Our Tiwi Xmas started off with collecting cockles on Raglan Beach, bush walk at Bridal Vail Falls, then dinner with my parents mates the acupuncture doctor and the writer, and then Montieths by the rolling river. Some things can not be more perfect.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Tiwi Xmas
Our Tiwi Xmas started off with collecting cockles on Raglan Beach, bush walk at Bridal Vail Falls, then dinner with my parents mates the acupuncture doctor and the writer, and then Montieths by the rolling river. Some things can not be more perfect.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Its a tradition
that I post a blog at the forever gracious Sydney International Airport. Somethings never change, like the cakey makeup of the perfume ladies, the grumpy crowd behind the late boarding signal with their pre-wrapped xmas presents, the five year old tape of the dreary security announcement, and I seem to be coming back here year after year after year. As always, ROCK ON e-portals and sushi!! Happy holidays everyone. FB.
p.s. in the mean time here's an epilogue of a merry little Christmas we had night before...
p.s. in the mean time here's an epilogue of a merry little Christmas we had night before...
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Blinking #7
Things starting with B seems to be dominating the Baroness's agenda this week. She is down with bronchitis and suffering a bit from office burn out, and this song called Bridal Train by the Waifs made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Try it. http://www.thewaifs.com/Albums.htm
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Canoe Trip Kangaroo Valley
Kangroo Valley canoe trip - the surprise mystery weekend I've been enticing Templeton for months.
On the first day we stopped over at Fitzroy Falls where we spotted a beautiful Lyall Bird, and stayed the night in the township of Berry at the Bunyip Inn which was very Victorianly gorgeous, follwed by breaky at the bakery round the corner.
Second day we hired the canoes and extra camping gear from Kangaroo Safaris - they dropped us off at a bank on Lake Yarrunga (yep, still there!!) the catchment which supplies Sydney with water, where we canoed downstream and camped over night finishing off at Tallowa Dam on the third day. Absolutely the best outdoor experience to date. 
Monday, November 06, 2006
Saturday, November 04, 2006
My new food blog
Food not only harness my life but it completes it. Woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning obviously and decided it might be nice if only I had a food blog. Bring it on Kylie Kwong!
Have a go at my recipes and lemme know how you went:
http://iplayfire.blogspot.com/
Have a go at my recipes and lemme know how you went:
http://iplayfire.blogspot.com/
Rain!
At last! Rain!
Its almost sad that I connect rain with specific memories - what I was doing last time it was raining, that time when we went to the gallery it was raining, the chalk writing on the footpath is finally washed off...
That gingery smell of wet bark - the warm "chill" in the air coupled with the smell rising from the earth, grey dots filling the concrete, the distant sound of thunder running up to my chest from my feet.
The drip on my forehead, the dry grass sticking to my bare feet, under the black bucketing sky.
This smells like home, and when you are home you run outside and dance like crazy like there's no tomorrow. Dance! Rain! Dance!
Friday, October 27, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Two Conspicuously Illuminating Dreams
Last night after we chased the giant blow fly that was on a verge of an ecstacy overdose out of the bedroom at 3am, I dreamt that I was Al Gore's intern, and got a very big tell-off by him for wearing jandals (thongs) in his White House office.
The night before, I dreamt that I arrived fresh at Monash University. I scribbled my name down on a piece of sign-up paper in the student union, only to find out it I accidently nominated myself on Student Exect and ended up being voted the Events Coordinator for the entire Orientation Week and the rest of the year. I skipped my first Exect meeting and was travelling in a Charlie&the Chocolate Factory type lift at 100km/hr, listening to a Professor of Physics (Bold and greying, tall and thin, naturally with red rimmed glasses) explain the equation which powers this box.
The night before, I dreamt that I arrived fresh at Monash University. I scribbled my name down on a piece of sign-up paper in the student union, only to find out it I accidently nominated myself on Student Exect and ended up being voted the Events Coordinator for the entire Orientation Week and the rest of the year. I skipped my first Exect meeting and was travelling in a Charlie&the Chocolate Factory type lift at 100km/hr, listening to a Professor of Physics (Bold and greying, tall and thin, naturally with red rimmed glasses) explain the equation which powers this box.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Cat sitter FAQ
(T & I are going sailing)
Who the hell is he?
His name is Shiner. Its because the pattern on his left eye implies that he had been given a “shiner” (Australian colloquial language for a black-eye) in his mother’s womb by his siblings. He just turned 19 last month and really likes to Meow & likes to be cuddled as often as he can persuade you to. He is an easy going fellow but you should put him outside if the meowing gets out of control.
How many times a day does he get fed?
Three. Once in the morning when he gets up, once again late in the afternoon between 4 – 6 pm, and then once again in the late evening before yourself or he goes to bed. He loves water so he would be grateful if you refill his water bowl upstairs and next to his bed if they get empty.
What does he eat & how much does he eat?
He prefers to eat things that are dead but if an insect provokes him he will take them out.
Usually he eats mushy cat food as he has no teeth. He eats one single cat food packet per meal, or 1/3 can per meal, which amounts to about 1 full can a day. He can be given biscuits as snacks outside those hours but not as meal food as he has a gentle stomach.
Has he got any medical conditions?
Yes. We think he might have or had a brain tumour which caused him to have two known minor seizures in the last winter, but he’s been fine for quite a while and its very unlikely that it will happen. In the unlikely chance of this happening, he would have a short collapse but would go back to normal (walk around and eat etc) after 30 or so seconds. If he has a seizure but returns to normal then we will take him to the vet on our return. If he does not return to normal & stays unconscious please take him to the vet ASAP – see separate emergency numbers/addresses. If they ask about the outstanding bill tell them we’ll fix it up when we get back. (bastards.)
When and where does he sleep?
He is probably sleeping as we speak. He sleeps around 20 hours a day anywhere that’s warm and soft. At night he sleeps in the laundry downstairs, he has a choice of three beds as he has outlived his other two mates. This prevents him from being outside and beating up the possum/younger cats and vice versa. He can be let out of the laundry in a reasonable hour in the morning, and let roam inside the house during the day if no-one’s there.
What about his toilet habits?
He is actually quite good with that. Since our other cat Milly passed away he has not once pissed or shat inside the house. What a good boy. He relieves himself either in the garden or his poo box in the laundry, if the doors are shut and he looks at you wearily beside the door that means he needs to GO! Leave the door to the staircase open cos he will take himself downstairs or outside via the cat door. Don’t worry about cleaning or moving the poo box unless you really want to. If it stinks you can put it outside during the day or use the air-deodorant on the window sill.
The thing to remember is: “If in doubt, let him out”.
THANK YOU!
Who the hell is he?
His name is Shiner. Its because the pattern on his left eye implies that he had been given a “shiner” (Australian colloquial language for a black-eye) in his mother’s womb by his siblings. He just turned 19 last month and really likes to Meow & likes to be cuddled as often as he can persuade you to. He is an easy going fellow but you should put him outside if the meowing gets out of control.
How many times a day does he get fed?
Three. Once in the morning when he gets up, once again late in the afternoon between 4 – 6 pm, and then once again in the late evening before yourself or he goes to bed. He loves water so he would be grateful if you refill his water bowl upstairs and next to his bed if they get empty.
What does he eat & how much does he eat?
He prefers to eat things that are dead but if an insect provokes him he will take them out.
Usually he eats mushy cat food as he has no teeth. He eats one single cat food packet per meal, or 1/3 can per meal, which amounts to about 1 full can a day. He can be given biscuits as snacks outside those hours but not as meal food as he has a gentle stomach.
Has he got any medical conditions?
Yes. We think he might have or had a brain tumour which caused him to have two known minor seizures in the last winter, but he’s been fine for quite a while and its very unlikely that it will happen. In the unlikely chance of this happening, he would have a short collapse but would go back to normal (walk around and eat etc) after 30 or so seconds. If he has a seizure but returns to normal then we will take him to the vet on our return. If he does not return to normal & stays unconscious please take him to the vet ASAP – see separate emergency numbers/addresses. If they ask about the outstanding bill tell them we’ll fix it up when we get back. (bastards.)
When and where does he sleep?
He is probably sleeping as we speak. He sleeps around 20 hours a day anywhere that’s warm and soft. At night he sleeps in the laundry downstairs, he has a choice of three beds as he has outlived his other two mates. This prevents him from being outside and beating up the possum/younger cats and vice versa. He can be let out of the laundry in a reasonable hour in the morning, and let roam inside the house during the day if no-one’s there.
What about his toilet habits?
He is actually quite good with that. Since our other cat Milly passed away he has not once pissed or shat inside the house. What a good boy. He relieves himself either in the garden or his poo box in the laundry, if the doors are shut and he looks at you wearily beside the door that means he needs to GO! Leave the door to the staircase open cos he will take himself downstairs or outside via the cat door. Don’t worry about cleaning or moving the poo box unless you really want to. If it stinks you can put it outside during the day or use the air-deodorant on the window sill.
The thing to remember is: “If in doubt, let him out”.
THANK YOU!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
L's World "i stopped counting": Bare feet driving
Last night I drove from Warramanga to Narrabundah through Hindmarsh Drive (80k) in pitch darkness in Templeton's giant automatic, in bare feet. Call me the stig.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Maybe Makybe
My attempts at fortune at glory at the annual Canberra Times Fun Run
once: 1:06:23 - September 2004
twice: 1:03:47 - September 2005
three times: 1:00:04 - September 2006
If any one can bottle adrenalin, they should.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
A few clarifications
Just in case you googled yourself into my site when looking for stories about the 8 year old West-Papuan boy called Wa-Wa who supposedly is under the threat of being eaten by his tribe "in the next ten years", well, it ain't me.
I really can't speak on his behalf despite sharing the same name, and I am pretty unclear on
exactly what the circumstances exactly of his life or welfare, but I'd still like to take this opportunity to say what a fuck wit twit Naomi Robson is and that Today Tonight is the lowest form of entertainment any one would ever come across. Nevermind all the misquoting and misleading editing they do all the fucking time esp about Muslim Australians, and the numerous times she'd been caught by Media Watch for doing whatever unethical business they are doing.
Australians, BOYCOTT THIS DISGUSTING PROGRAM!! Its not "current affairs" its not even gossip, its complete tripe that is keeping bogans of this nation bogans.
Oh, poor little Naomi gets kicked out by an authoritarian terrorist tolerating model-jailing drug-mule executing government for snooping around without prior permission. I can just imagine her squeeling. Serves her bloody right.
Of all the pressing issues you can investigate in West Papua, like their ongoing independence struggle against Indonesia, asylum seekers that Australia SENT BACK to face whatever Indonesia wants to do with them, the generl impoverishment of the area, the arms and drug trade, illegal logging and HIV/AIDS coming out of their ears etc etc etc, instead you go do a story another network has already done... on CANNIBALISM?? Several anthropologists/etc experts already says its not something they practice anymore, they only do it to each other's tribes not their own etc etc, the initial report was not even investigating cannibalism to start with, bumping in the the little boy was a side thing. To sensationalise Papuans as "savages" is reenforcing the ignorant and xenophobic and neo-colonialist attitude Australians has towards anyone who's not white and speaks English. As sad as it is for any one to die and their human rigthts violated, Cannibalism is not a systematic issue. Genital mutilation, domestic violence, forced conscription is - and millions more die from this much much more frequently than isolated cases of cannibalism. For fucks sake why isn't she going around saving kids from killing themselves in refugee camps or jumping off a leaking boat.
Oh, and did any one ask her to tick against "Indonesian Values" she identifies with on the visa card before they let her in? She failed? How unjust!!
I really can't speak on his behalf despite sharing the same name, and I am pretty unclear on
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exactly what the circumstances exactly of his life or welfare, but I'd still like to take this opportunity to say what a fuck wit twit Naomi Robson is and that Today Tonight is the lowest form of entertainment any one would ever come across. Nevermind all the misquoting and misleading editing they do all the fucking time esp about Muslim Australians, and the numerous times she'd been caught by Media Watch for doing whatever unethical business they are doing.Australians, BOYCOTT THIS DISGUSTING PROGRAM!! Its not "current affairs" its not even gossip, its complete tripe that is keeping bogans of this nation bogans.
Oh, poor little Naomi gets kicked out by an authoritarian terrorist tolerating model-jailing drug-mule executing government for snooping around without prior permission. I can just imagine her squeeling. Serves her bloody right.
Of all the pressing issues you can investigate in West Papua, like their ongoing independence struggle against Indonesia, asylum seekers that Australia SENT BACK to face whatever Indonesia wants to do with them, the generl impoverishment of the area, the arms and drug trade, illegal logging and HIV/AIDS coming out of their ears etc etc etc, instead you go do a story another network has already done... on CANNIBALISM?? Several anthropologists/etc experts already says its not something they practice anymore, they only do it to each other's tribes not their own etc etc, the initial report was not even investigating cannibalism to start with, bumping in the the little boy was a side thing. To sensationalise Papuans as "savages" is reenforcing the ignorant and xenophobic and neo-colonialist attitude Australians has towards anyone who's not white and speaks English. As sad as it is for any one to die and their human rigthts violated, Cannibalism is not a systematic issue. Genital mutilation, domestic violence, forced conscription is - and millions more die from this much much more frequently than isolated cases of cannibalism. For fucks sake why isn't she going around saving kids from killing themselves in refugee camps or jumping off a leaking boat.
Oh, and did any one ask her to tick against "Indonesian Values" she identifies with on the visa card before they let her in? She failed? How unjust!!
Friday, September 08, 2006
Beattie vs Greer
"Beattie adds 'stupid' to Greer backlash"
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,20365256-2,00.html?from=rss
er, when did over-exaggeration of public grief take over tolerance of a sober, and reasonably formed personal opinion? Oh, I get it, state election time, and you're picking on a child-less hairy raging feminazi. Who's 'stupid' and hiding behind "politically correct clap trap" exactly?
Clive Hamilton's piece in SMH hits the spot. Death becomes an excuse to savage "elites" - now that's nasty the pollies are milking this whole Steve Irwin thing big time, don't for one minute think that they are truly "sad" for it all, except for that fact that Steve Irwin won't be buying land off them and doing the state's job of conservation instead. or to call John Howard the greatest leader alive. *chunder in the land down under*
Personally, to me its a bit like picketting at Joh Bjelke-Peterson's funeral, like, you're making a valid point but at a cheap-shot kind of timing makes it just look a little bit not that cool, but its not like Germain Greer is the one to bite her toungue on anything. What I love about Germain Greer is her guts to say what she thinks, when ever she thinks, she shocks and she challenges, she picks up a deluded population masked by spin and systematic brainwash, and shake them about and bring them to the realisty of some pretty "inconvenient truths" to coin that other bloke, and thats what takes the message home, and I fearlessly defend her just for that.
Score Board- Greer:1, Beattie:1, Freespeech: Nil.
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,20365256-2,00.html?from=rss
er, when did over-exaggeration of public grief take over tolerance of a sober, and reasonably formed personal opinion? Oh, I get it, state election time, and you're picking on a child-less hairy raging feminazi. Who's 'stupid' and hiding behind "politically correct clap trap" exactly?
Clive Hamilton's piece in SMH hits the spot. Death becomes an excuse to savage "elites" - now that's nasty the pollies are milking this whole Steve Irwin thing big time, don't for one minute think that they are truly "sad" for it all, except for that fact that Steve Irwin won't be buying land off them and doing the state's job of conservation instead. or to call John Howard the greatest leader alive. *chunder in the land down under*
Personally, to me its a bit like picketting at Joh Bjelke-Peterson's funeral, like, you're making a valid point but at a cheap-shot kind of timing makes it just look a little bit not that cool, but its not like Germain Greer is the one to bite her toungue on anything. What I love about Germain Greer is her guts to say what she thinks, when ever she thinks, she shocks and she challenges, she picks up a deluded population masked by spin and systematic brainwash, and shake them about and bring them to the realisty of some pretty "inconvenient truths" to coin that other bloke, and thats what takes the message home, and I fearlessly defend her just for that.
Score Board- Greer:1, Beattie:1, Freespeech: Nil.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
STOP PRESS
This is a general note to all my 1.5 readers -
I think my quest to become blog queen of the century has been slightly interrupted (but probably died miserably as has my quest to complete a marathon before 40 and conquer Everest before 50). I have no time to do this blog and I am in no mood to do this blog. There's actually heaps going on in my life but at the moment its kinda quite crap.
Life is pretty aweful, as I said, just as I thought things had gotten better with a brand new job and a new goldfish... Two of my closest and faithful companions - Milly my aussie cat and Cupes my kiwi cat both died this monday on opposite sides of the Tasmin. Its a bit of a double whammy and I have not felt so physically and mentally disempowered for about 3 years. I've also had to travel interstate for work with a cold, but thank chemist-god for pseudoephredrine. I haven't had much sleep and my eyes are blurry from all the crying, and being a little worried about Templeton as well, having to let Milly go - he's such a gentle and loving boy. I will devote some time to their memory when I am able to do it next, but I just want you to know that there's just a little bit too much going on at the mo for me to write shit.
Sometimes, I think about how pathetic one's life is, being upset about the price of bananas and only having one cat left and plants not being watered, when there's like bombs dropping from the sky and crops not sprouting out of the groud for the 10th consequetive year and icebergs melting around you and all that even crappier stuff. Storms are often in tea cups, but hey, if you're stuck in a tea cup what can you do?
But adventures in L's world is as smooth as the DFAT carpark, in case you are wondering.
I think my quest to become blog queen of the century has been slightly interrupted (but probably died miserably as has my quest to complete a marathon before 40 and conquer Everest before 50). I have no time to do this blog and I am in no mood to do this blog. There's actually heaps going on in my life but at the moment its kinda quite crap.
Life is pretty aweful, as I said, just as I thought things had gotten better with a brand new job and a new goldfish... Two of my closest and faithful companions - Milly my aussie cat and Cupes my kiwi cat both died this monday on opposite sides of the Tasmin. Its a bit of a double whammy and I have not felt so physically and mentally disempowered for about 3 years. I've also had to travel interstate for work with a cold, but thank chemist-god for pseudoephredrine. I haven't had much sleep and my eyes are blurry from all the crying, and being a little worried about Templeton as well, having to let Milly go - he's such a gentle and loving boy. I will devote some time to their memory when I am able to do it next, but I just want you to know that there's just a little bit too much going on at the mo for me to write shit.
Sometimes, I think about how pathetic one's life is, being upset about the price of bananas and only having one cat left and plants not being watered, when there's like bombs dropping from the sky and crops not sprouting out of the groud for the 10th consequetive year and icebergs melting around you and all that even crappier stuff. Storms are often in tea cups, but hey, if you're stuck in a tea cup what can you do?
But adventures in L's world is as smooth as the DFAT carpark, in case you are wondering.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Truc's Quarte Quart Cake
A quarte quart, also known geekily as the "maths cake" is a classic, rich and dense french cake (close enough, Truc is French Canadian Vietnamese...) where you use exactly the same weight for the four main ingredients - ie. crack eggs first and weigh it (as its the weight least easy to control), then use exactly the same amount in grams for flour, sugar and butter. you can therefore control how big you want your cake to be depending on how many ppl you are feeding etc. Whisk it all up - add your flavouring ie cocoa powder or pulped up orange, cream, shredded coconut etc and ice as you please. All easy in the hood!
3 years in a Leaky Boat
Three years ago, on the 14th of July 2003, I came to Australia with a 20kg backpack and a doubtful mind. It could be sung out like the My Way kareoke number, or sewn out like the Citizenship Quilt, or just given a rant on m'blog.
This is the second time I've "immigrated", but probably the 20th time I've "migrated". I am from a line of people with boat blood, its natural to have a home that is constantly floating under your feet. Changing your environment is ultimately good for you, I believe this through and through. I appreciate the things that Australia makes me think about, and contribute to my accumulating wisdom. I think most of all its about understanding this landscape and a whole different way of relating to life and the world beyond homes gurt by sea. I've travelled to some amazing corners on this seemlingly endless land. I've seen the good, bad and the pure ugly.
I could have, but have not, taken out PR or citizenship. To be completely honest, and absolutely no offence to my closest aussie friends or my spouse, people here needs to have a good look at themselves here and ask themselves why they have let the Howard government manipulate, murder, cheat and lie to them for ten years and not twitch one bit. Why do they keep tolerating intolerance, ignoring ignorance, turn a blind eye with all this muslim bashing, double standard attitude towards people from other cultures. I simply do not want to be called Australian, yet.
Yet the larrikinism, the laid back black humour just that bit more exaggerated and bit more shamelessness than back home in New Zealand is just that attractive. They are better drinkers, and better fucks. *sorry!!* They have a less serious identity crisis than New Zealand or Taiwan, and certainly don't need to put pride on just one sport... But giiioooorrrd, that annoying accent???
In a nutshell, the Aussie Lingo I've managed to understand are:
- Doona - equivalent of duvet, a thick blanket stuffed with synthetic fibre or cotton or wool or feathers depending on how rich you are (in the ascending order I mentioned)
- Chunder - to spew
- Eski - chilly bin, I think its an unPC reference to the Inuit people
- dacks - track pants. John Howard Dacks are green suit with yellow stripes
- m'ticker - my heart
- A Doris - a parking spot closest to the entrance to a mall (newest addition)
Aussie Lingo I've not got:
- Buckleys/ Buckley's chance: what the?
- Bloody Oath
- ACCC
- The great Australian bite
- Drop bears
Anyway, seriously, its been a fun ride, and its good to not to feel too involved either. I feel lucky that Australia and I are able to embrace each other at a pace we are both comfortable with. I am not sure if I will still be here to see my fifth Canberra winter, I can and will jump ship when prompt, but if I do stay, it would be my pleasure if it will have me. *-)
This is the second time I've "immigrated", but probably the 20th time I've "migrated". I am from a line of people with boat blood, its natural to have a home that is constantly floating under your feet. Changing your environment is ultimately good for you, I believe this through and through. I appreciate the things that Australia makes me think about, and contribute to my accumulating wisdom. I think most of all its about understanding this landscape and a whole different way of relating to life and the world beyond homes gurt by sea. I've travelled to some amazing corners on this seemlingly endless land. I've seen the good, bad and the pure ugly.
I could have, but have not, taken out PR or citizenship. To be completely honest, and absolutely no offence to my closest aussie friends or my spouse, people here needs to have a good look at themselves here and ask themselves why they have let the Howard government manipulate, murder, cheat and lie to them for ten years and not twitch one bit. Why do they keep tolerating intolerance, ignoring ignorance, turn a blind eye with all this muslim bashing, double standard attitude towards people from other cultures. I simply do not want to be called Australian, yet.
Yet the larrikinism, the laid back black humour just that bit more exaggerated and bit more shamelessness than back home in New Zealand is just that attractive. They are better drinkers, and better fucks. *sorry!!* They have a less serious identity crisis than New Zealand or Taiwan, and certainly don't need to put pride on just one sport... But giiioooorrrd, that annoying accent???
In a nutshell, the Aussie Lingo I've managed to understand are:
- Doona - equivalent of duvet, a thick blanket stuffed with synthetic fibre or cotton or wool or feathers depending on how rich you are (in the ascending order I mentioned)
- Chunder - to spew
- Eski - chilly bin, I think its an unPC reference to the Inuit people
- dacks - track pants. John Howard Dacks are green suit with yellow stripes
- m'ticker - my heart
- A Doris - a parking spot closest to the entrance to a mall (newest addition)
Aussie Lingo I've not got:
- Buckleys/ Buckley's chance: what the?
- Bloody Oath
- ACCC
- The great Australian bite
- Drop bears
Anyway, seriously, its been a fun ride, and its good to not to feel too involved either. I feel lucky that Australia and I are able to embrace each other at a pace we are both comfortable with. I am not sure if I will still be here to see my fifth Canberra winter, I can and will jump ship when prompt, but if I do stay, it would be my pleasure if it will have me. *-)
Thursday, July 13, 2006
GRIPE!!! #2
What absolutely fucks me off on a Thursday morning is:
a) The cat (Shiner, I know its him) has confused the kitty litter and my fucking wardrobe, and pissed all over the pants I want to wear to work today
b) The FUCKING bus breaks down and you stand at the freezing bus stop (Canberra is a fine minus 5 degrees today) for 20 minutes, decide to get the next bus and have a coffee instead, and the bloody cafe is understaffed and they bring you the coffee 15 minutes after you order it, you have 2 more minutes to get back to the bus stop for the next bus, so you gulp down the coffee and BURN yourself
c) My bladder infection has decided to come back, great, now I'M the cat!!!
FUCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
a) The cat (Shiner, I know its him) has confused the kitty litter and my fucking wardrobe, and pissed all over the pants I want to wear to work today
b) The FUCKING bus breaks down and you stand at the freezing bus stop (Canberra is a fine minus 5 degrees today) for 20 minutes, decide to get the next bus and have a coffee instead, and the bloody cafe is understaffed and they bring you the coffee 15 minutes after you order it, you have 2 more minutes to get back to the bus stop for the next bus, so you gulp down the coffee and BURN yourself
c) My bladder infection has decided to come back, great, now I'M the cat!!!
FUCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
GRIPE!!
What absolutely frustrates the shit out of me on a Wednesday afternoon:
a) The telephone cord is so bloody old that it curls into a big bundle and every time you pick it up it curls back and you end up being pulled towards the phone set and speaking right next to the number pad. FUCK!$&*&*&**
b) Strangers at the bloody bus stop that wants to know the time or if a bus has been passed, and instead of asking you the bloody question they go first "oh, can I ask you a question??" and I'm like "yeah?" (like, NO!!! YOU CAN'T ASK ME A QUESTION COS YOU'VE ASKED IT ALREADY YOU FUCK WIT!) and they're like "um, have you go the time?". Like FUCKKK!#$^%$#&#%$
Basically yeah, I'm cranky.
a) The telephone cord is so bloody old that it curls into a big bundle and every time you pick it up it curls back and you end up being pulled towards the phone set and speaking right next to the number pad. FUCK!$&*&*&**
b) Strangers at the bloody bus stop that wants to know the time or if a bus has been passed, and instead of asking you the bloody question they go first "oh, can I ask you a question??" and I'm like "yeah?" (like, NO!!! YOU CAN'T ASK ME A QUESTION COS YOU'VE ASKED IT ALREADY YOU FUCK WIT!) and they're like "um, have you go the time?". Like FUCKKK!#$^%$#&#%$
Basically yeah, I'm cranky.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
L's World 2: My first driving lesson
My lovely mate Helen has been waiting forever to put me in the drivers seat and I have been procrastinating forever to avoid it.
But 2 July 2006, aged 26 years, 3 months and two days, just over 11 years from the time I passed my learner's licence test in New Zealand, I am behind the wheel. Earlier in the week the cheesiest smile I've had in years was firmly implanted into a piece of green plastic, and I am licenced (again). Herrahhh. I know its lame but I just can't help but pulling it out of my wallet at parties.
2pm came and I had to seriously kiss templeton goodbye properly before we left the house just in case its the last time I'll ever see him and the cats ever again... I was prepared to reck the shit out of Helen's car either by underestimating myself or over estimating myself.
The first time the car moved all happend too quickly for me. We were in a driveway of a factory (closed on sunday ofcourse) and there were two walls on either side which looked like they were running into me rather than the other way round. My shyness and brashness collided between my feet and the pedals. What the hell am I suppose to do? I press to light and the car doesn't move, and I press to hard it gets grumpy and as if it would shoot out of the driveway 200 Ks an hour... Stalling the car is like having a pretty violent hickup and I was told promptly that it would be a fact of life for the next few months. And what the fuck is with the crazy handbreaks - its like having too many veto powers in a democracy. Hearing my heart pound and my own fast panting while being completely stationary reminded me of the last time I was in an operating theatre on local anasthetics - using up fat stores without moving an inch. Finally upgrading from the laneway to the open road was a mixture of feeling daunted yet eager. Not sure if its an Asian thing or not but keeping to the left is actually quite difficult... and crossing paths with another L driver was a bit of hoot - neither of us were mentally or physically capable of acknowledging one another with eye contact or a friendly jesture to say "hey man, we rock."
It was like losing my religion. Full of uncertainty, letting go of the comforts I knew all my life up till today, grasping that bit of courage, forgetting the shame. So assuring, liberating, bursting through. Not ever going back.
But 2 July 2006, aged 26 years, 3 months and two days, just over 11 years from the time I passed my learner's licence test in New Zealand, I am behind the wheel. Earlier in the week the cheesiest smile I've had in years was firmly implanted into a piece of green plastic, and I am licenced (again). Herrahhh. I know its lame but I just can't help but pulling it out of my wallet at parties.
2pm came and I had to seriously kiss templeton goodbye properly before we left the house just in case its the last time I'll ever see him and the cats ever again... I was prepared to reck the shit out of Helen's car either by underestimating myself or over estimating myself.
The first time the car moved all happend too quickly for me. We were in a driveway of a factory (closed on sunday ofcourse) and there were two walls on either side which looked like they were running into me rather than the other way round. My shyness and brashness collided between my feet and the pedals. What the hell am I suppose to do? I press to light and the car doesn't move, and I press to hard it gets grumpy and as if it would shoot out of the driveway 200 Ks an hour... Stalling the car is like having a pretty violent hickup and I was told promptly that it would be a fact of life for the next few months. And what the fuck is with the crazy handbreaks - its like having too many veto powers in a democracy. Hearing my heart pound and my own fast panting while being completely stationary reminded me of the last time I was in an operating theatre on local anasthetics - using up fat stores without moving an inch. Finally upgrading from the laneway to the open road was a mixture of feeling daunted yet eager. Not sure if its an Asian thing or not but keeping to the left is actually quite difficult... and crossing paths with another L driver was a bit of hoot - neither of us were mentally or physically capable of acknowledging one another with eye contact or a friendly jesture to say "hey man, we rock."
It was like losing my religion. Full of uncertainty, letting go of the comforts I knew all my life up till today, grasping that bit of courage, forgetting the shame. So assuring, liberating, bursting through. Not ever going back.
Monday, June 26, 2006
L's World 1: The Edge of Reason
The rain has dried and the crops are dying. Then the snow fell. She wept as they took her horses to the next farm as she could no longer afford to keep them. She feels trapped in her winter wonderland, the servants and chauffers sent off to work elsewhere. The frost under her feet has stretched for more miles than her delicate feet could cope. The time has come for the Baroness to find another mode of transport.
I just spent $130 and a weekend with 15 year old pimply boys stuck in a run down smokey room in Woden having speed-kills-don't-drink-don't-this-don't-that drummed into my head. I know its not drummed in their heads cos most of them spent the weekend doodling pictures of Ren and Stimpy - or whatever they watch these days - on the course book.
Apparently we are the most priviledged state in the entire Australian federation to be chosen to go on a pilot program of compulsory road safety course before we can get our L's. Sure I can understand that you should know this stuff before you go on the roads, but a whole weekend?? and with that GIT with the handlebar mustache that is so patronising and so annoying to be have to listen to hour after hour, using ridiculous metaphors like driving is a lottery that is full of black tickets with names - like death, permanent brain damage, jail, etc etc, and we are about to fill in more names on those black tickets (fine, if you use it once, but for every subject??); if those tax payers dollars to fund the recouperation of Melanie's injuries would be transferred onto one dollar bank notes and pile up, you know how high? as high as Mount Everest, you know how high Mount Everest is? that's how many bank notes it takes to look after her for the rest of her life. You want that? Do you think your mum, your dad and brothers and sisters, your cousins and the dog next door would want that? No, no, no. Not an Everest worth of bank notes. What the fuck?
All I am glad for is that there are actually a few other people who have left their Ls as late or if not later than I have. There's a 30 year old from Melbourne that has taken trams her entire life till she joined the public service here, and a 45 yo star wars fan that's never had a problem taking buses for 20 years from Isabella Plains. I remember how annoying those adult students were during my undergrad years who would sit at the very front of the class and answer all the questions (and get them right) and ask all the questions (and get them right as well). Fuck I feel like one of them when the kiddies on my table glanced up from their doodling at me as if I was a WEIRDOOO when I questioned the gender analysis of road fatalities in Australia 2001 - 2005. Well at least I'm not starting a carpet-laying apprenticeship next week cos I DROPPED OUT OF YEAR 10!!!!
I politely let the younger ones through the knowledge test before me. The computer that I was going to use for my knowledge test breaks down, and so does the next one and the next one. The entire system shuts down and the GIT has a bit of a breakdown (does he do this when he drives too?). I repeat what I always knew in my head. To err is human; to fuck things up big time requires a computer. And bureaucracy is a mistake of a mutant produced by the struggle between humans yearning to become computers.
I start to write another letter to Jon Stanhope in my head (NB: international readers - he's the fearless leader of our magnificent Territory/minor kareoke celebrity who sports a crew cut), and find myself doodling a picture of a snow flake in the course book.
How rediculous, she thought. The Driving Baroness!?
I just spent $130 and a weekend with 15 year old pimply boys stuck in a run down smokey room in Woden having speed-kills-don't-drink-don't-this-don't-that drummed into my head. I know its not drummed in their heads cos most of them spent the weekend doodling pictures of Ren and Stimpy - or whatever they watch these days - on the course book.
Apparently we are the most priviledged state in the entire Australian federation to be chosen to go on a pilot program of compulsory road safety course before we can get our L's. Sure I can understand that you should know this stuff before you go on the roads, but a whole weekend?? and with that GIT with the handlebar mustache that is so patronising and so annoying to be have to listen to hour after hour, using ridiculous metaphors like driving is a lottery that is full of black tickets with names - like death, permanent brain damage, jail, etc etc, and we are about to fill in more names on those black tickets (fine, if you use it once, but for every subject??); if those tax payers dollars to fund the recouperation of Melanie's injuries would be transferred onto one dollar bank notes and pile up, you know how high? as high as Mount Everest, you know how high Mount Everest is? that's how many bank notes it takes to look after her for the rest of her life. You want that? Do you think your mum, your dad and brothers and sisters, your cousins and the dog next door would want that? No, no, no. Not an Everest worth of bank notes. What the fuck?
All I am glad for is that there are actually a few other people who have left their Ls as late or if not later than I have. There's a 30 year old from Melbourne that has taken trams her entire life till she joined the public service here, and a 45 yo star wars fan that's never had a problem taking buses for 20 years from Isabella Plains. I remember how annoying those adult students were during my undergrad years who would sit at the very front of the class and answer all the questions (and get them right) and ask all the questions (and get them right as well). Fuck I feel like one of them when the kiddies on my table glanced up from their doodling at me as if I was a WEIRDOOO when I questioned the gender analysis of road fatalities in Australia 2001 - 2005. Well at least I'm not starting a carpet-laying apprenticeship next week cos I DROPPED OUT OF YEAR 10!!!!
I politely let the younger ones through the knowledge test before me. The computer that I was going to use for my knowledge test breaks down, and so does the next one and the next one. The entire system shuts down and the GIT has a bit of a breakdown (does he do this when he drives too?). I repeat what I always knew in my head. To err is human; to fuck things up big time requires a computer. And bureaucracy is a mistake of a mutant produced by the struggle between humans yearning to become computers.
I start to write another letter to Jon Stanhope in my head (NB: international readers - he's the fearless leader of our magnificent Territory/minor kareoke celebrity who sports a crew cut), and find myself doodling a picture of a snow flake in the course book.
How rediculous, she thought. The Driving Baroness!?
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Melbourne June 06
I am in Melbourne for a worktrip, and have scored perfect time with the long weekend to stay on for some shopping and catching up with mates.This city is so murcky and bleak in the winter it really can be quite depressing if not for the smell of coffee and vietnamese noodles drifting into the streets. The view infront of me is a smudge of grey, and its chilled into my bones. The air particles feels like flakes of ice, condensing on the tip of my nose. My little cold is not appreciating this at all and I've been on strepsils and pseudoephredrine to keep me running.
Hopping inside a tram is like being surrounded by a bed of amber. These old classic style ones glow with the dim lights and the wooden seating. Young women in coats and boots texting away, old men in burets with their walking sticks, blokes in stubbles and hoodies talking about shakespearian deaths, and me, bewildered clutching a tram map, hands full with bits and pieces of shopping, food, a big bunch of flowers for my lovely hosts. This is so Melbourne, you can't feel like this any where else in the world.
Monday, May 22, 2006
You Will Go To The Hunter Valley
About a year ago at a dinner party I cracked open a fortune cookie that said
"You will go to the Hunter Valley".
Run Rabbit, Run Rabbit, Run! Run! Run!!
Run Rabbit, Run Rabbit, Run! Run! Run!!Day 1
Back on the bloody CAN=SYD express. Ignoring seat belt warning as usual. Funny tourist in over-sized jacket beside me overtakes arm rest and I'm too scared to push him off. He checks his "tour schedule"from the travel agent once every 20 minutes, and records town-passed/distance-travelled/distance-to-sydney every other 20 minutes with a neat pencil from his front pocket. Checks his airport hired mobile phone for messaged every other other 20 minutes. He is a spy.
Stumble into Sushi Train on George Street post-poning toilet break just to get my fix. Shocked to not find special plate with the raw salmon wrapped giant roe platter, panics a little. Asks one to be made and the chef looks up at me. Look, its been 6 months.
I pay $8 to get into the last week of Archibald Prize. I loved it you should go. Its sad that I go to the NSW Gallery more often than the NGA, but since visiting Australia for the first time in 2000 I have decided it was probably one of the best spaces there is.
Coffee with ex bosses.
Chai Latte at the Hilton with BF and his workmates on conference. Back to Templeton's grandfather's house for dinner. He is a fab cook and entertains us with crazy stories about people's fingers getting cut off, jumping into rivers, and a man who wears his wife's undies, and the Opera House. And muslims. Falls asleep after 1 champagne.
Day 2
The highway, symbolised by the big green line that wiggles through the coast, looks like it'll never end, but I have just realised that I can look at maps in a car and not omit all content of my stomach onto the driver's lap. And that Templeton and I share the ability to confuse left and right.
Car guy from New Castle is in deep shit, as its not ready for us to look at and "we drove 500Ks". But I've never been to this ancient port town and must endeavour to understand its historic, social, political, economic, cultural and environmental significance in 1.5 hours. But also must have fish'n chips when you're in NC!! while avoiding being attacked by gulls. T tells me about shipyard protesting in the early 90s. I see one Chinese person.
There's like only one way to get the Maitland, symbolised by the red line with the shield with a number in it, and we get there just before we thought we were lost. Side bar says it has the best preserved high street in Australia but neither of us could agree. Very quiet but I can see the appeal. Walked around the river and this place really reminds me of Wanganui.
The hills are incredibly huge above us. So we do feel some what far away from the valley. Its late autum and the hills are almost grey. Hazy, distant. Yearning.
Wineries... symbolised by 6 dots suggesting a vine of grapes on an empty space. T and I do a bit of strategising and decides that TranquilVale is the closest to Greta and we should get to it before 5pm so we have time to get pissed. The drive in down a narrow dust road felt like we were in the Anne of Green Gables TV show - the sides were clad with pink tails of tussock grass in the setting sun and passing the rows of aging fence wood on each side with the sound of wheels over pebbles beside you. The owner emerges with a full pink flushed smile. He used to be a finance broker in London but decided that the wine making life in rural New South Wales was for him. 156 dollars later we were back on the dust road racing the round red sinking sun into the hills.
Managed to get lost again and drive past signs. We arrive at our guesthouse in Greta just as darkness sweeps across the earth. No neon lights, just a green beam outside the local pub. It is soooooooo cute!! http://www.thetable.com.au/. Giant intimidating cat greets us and promptly makes his way into the car for a bit of a poke around. Obviously never seen a VW Beetle before. Malcolm the plum
p chef/owner is a lovely man but probably feels sorry for himself for having to work on a saturday night. Cat (introduced as "Pud") now sitting on top of the car, too scared to jump off. Templeton helps him off and scratches his chin. Sometimes I think Templeton is too patiently generous. Thats why I'm still around... After Templeton's compulsory daily nap, Malcome served us a fantastic dinner. 1) Olives and duck liver pate - matched with PUKKA ....... 2) Hearty Beechroot Soup - he obviously spent a lot of time on the stock, it really is the most creamiest thing I've had 3) Paella - which both of us have been trying to perfect so its great to taste some one else's - he has various topping like chicken drumsticks and cherry sausages, and the tip is probably not to cook the mussel right through so that it obtains a bit of rawness and has an oyster likeness to it. 4) 
I wake up in the hugest bed I've ever slept in and wonder why I am not sore today.
Breakfast was 1) Freshly squeezed OJ & coffee 2) Porridge topped with toasted pine nuts d
Clinkadee clonk goes the box of wine we carry down stairs and off we go to hunt out more. However Templeton still manages to score a few records at the garage sale at the old church hall down the road. Taiwanese Music from the 50s too. I feel like Dorothy. We head towards Polkobin and stop at Emma's Cottage first. We were going to stay there at one stage but The
I think the point is to pretend that you know what you are talking about, eased by the fact that you have chosen to swallow than to spit. The showroom people probably know nothing either. Its like the Emperor's clothes, what counts is how big your mouth or wallet or imagination is.
Apart from the very very excruciating traffic hold up between Gosford and Sydney on the way home, I could pretty much say the weekend was one of the most enjoyable adventures I've had in NSW.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Anzac Day - Celebrate this Land
On Anzac Day on Ngunnawal land, the Aussie and the Kiwi went on a bit of a trek in the Namadgi National Park. A bit of kanga stalking, rock tripping, a picnic under the gum trees - and heaps of sunshine! Highly recommended.
Entered the track from Gudgenby, a few Ks from the Gelndale Crossing about 30ks from Tharwa. Bring a 4WD cos it can get a bit hilly and dusty. Don't forget hat and sunscreen cos 70% of the track is open air with very little trees overhead due to land clearing. At Yankee Hat rocks you can 
see Aboriginal rock painting. The indigenous people of this land resided here till 1860s till it was turned into farm land. Its only been protected and heritage listed in 1984 when Namadgi was made national park. The rock painting is done by a mixture of clays, red ochre and some blood. The rock and the rock painting is likely to be a meeting place, with the black markings most likely from an open fire. You can see that the different figures in the painting depicts different animals - ie. the big white one is a kangaroo (looking suspiciously like our Milly...) smaller white ones are dingos, and the birds depict emus. The figures with the longer limbs are humans, and you can also see figures of a turtle and an achidna. The above picture is of a type of eucalyptus tree - commonly called scribbly gum - a type of moth's (called scribbly moth- eh!) lavae lives just under the bark and makes those marks (apparently doesn't hurt the trees). And on the right is another gum tree waiting to bloom.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Chuckle chuckle...
Was wondering if I was the only one that noticed...but, does the outfit which controversial model Michele Leslie - infamous inmate of the Bali police for possessing two ecstacy tablets on the way to a dance party with two male offsprings of Indonesian politicians- wore on her runway debut for Michael Azzollini since being released from jail totally resemble the classic prisoners' stripes to you or what? oooops.
photo courtesy of The Age website.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
To Chris And Alice!!
hey gorgeous people (or, brave souls) - YOU DID IT YOUR WAYYYYYY!! (and not much more cos I have no voice left and I lost my glasses...) Have fun in Thailand!!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Uranium, China, Australia, Taiwan
Well why the bloody hell am I not surprised that the federal government is selling uranium to China? and why do I think its the most stupidest decison they have made (this week)?
First of all, second of all, and third of all: Money
Obviously domestic pressures would never see Australia have a nuclear power station (for all the right reasons ofcourse), so what are they going to do with all the stuff sitting in the ground (by the way, aboriginal land, where the traditional owners don't want a mine, and don't want a waste dump put back in there to pollute their land and their health either). Export it. Where? Anywhere where public information is limited and controlled, and political oppression is rife and demand for energy for a booming industrialising economy is high, and the government and the big businesses licking their arse can do whatever they want. The offshore businesses loves you, the onshore businesses loves you, you get a big chunk of GDP growth/foreign reserves, voters are happy cos the nuke waste isn't coming back here, wah lah, k'ching!
No empathy for the environment nor public health
The environmental impact of radio active activity and waste is obviously extremely severe. Areas near the Chinobyl disaster is still badly contaminated and highly radio active (researchers need to enter in high-level protection suits) after almost 20 years after the disaster, never mind the cancers and feotal deformities of the people exposed to the radio activity in that area. This is considered short term. So think about what the long term impacts will be of other nuclear accidents. Over 22 known nuclear accidents around the world from power stations and other experiments have happened since Chynobyl. Given the fact that the Australian Government wants to contrain Australia in an energy system from 2 centuries ago rather than investing more towards renewable energy research and development, its not really that surprising that the environment isn't given much consideration in this decision to sell uranium off to China. I refer you to "Blowing In The Wind", a documentary by David Bradbury about the environmental destruction and health affects to local indigenous ppl from uranium mining and nuclear waste storage in South Australia (and other places) for an Australia context of the issue.
And now comes China, the most accident prone country in the world. They are prone to easily avoidable disasters because of corruption and lack of stricter controls in their rapidly growing industries. over 5000 miners died in coal mine disasters in China last year alone. Imagine what's going to happen in a completely new field of nuclear fission with a much greater risk of destruction to human life compared to coal mining.
Bringing Cross-Strait Arms Race to a New High
Great - China and Taiwan hates each other, and have been building up their arms on both sides of the coast of the Taiwan Strait for over 50 years. US sells billions of dollars worth of (old/retiring) arms over to Taiwan to deter China's edging military buildup each year. China buys more from other sources so it could just top Taiwan. Next year Taiwan stocks up more. On it goes. I ask you, if you were Taiwanese, would you feel safer if you had MORE weapons or less? Not the point, but certainly a sad one I should point out.
So here Australia goes fuelling this whole thing. China "promises" that its not going to use the uranium for weapons (as a signatory of the nuclear non-proliferation treaty) but Taiwan, who is not a signatory to the NPT, (Only BY DEFAULT not cos they are a rougue state, but cos they got kicked out of the UN and China won't let them back in) does not have an obligation not to develop nuke weapons. How do you think this make China (who loves their bloody ugly face, on top of it all) feel? They could never be trusted at the first place not to develop nukes in secret anyway, and now Taiwan possessing more uranium is going to ENCOURAGE China to do so.
The Taiwan Strait is probably one of the biggest flashpoints for conflict in the Asia Pacific - neither side are quite desperate enough yet to start any war yet, but if you think about the human, environmental and economic casualties if these two countries go to war. And especially if both sides had nuclear war heads. (by the way I staunchly stand by my view that Taiwan is/always should be an independant country, and this mess with China could be easily sorted by peaceful means if they'd barge, rather by brutal force from either side).
Hypocricy - now that's new
Meanwhile Downer sits around counting his cash from his free trade agreement, not really particularly concerned about human rights, a country's sovereignty, environmental degredation, blah blah blah, not going to help Taiwan if China declares war on it, cos you know, its ok to go to a totally unjustified and illegal war in Iraq to promote so called Western Democracy, but its not particularly justifiable to stand on Taiwan's side cos its a fully fledged democracy that elects their own parliament and goes about their business without hurting anyone, and instead stand by China which is an autocratic, corrupt, human rights abusing freedom hating regime.
I love Australia, I love this government, and where the bloody hell are ya?
First of all, second of all, and third of all: Money
Obviously domestic pressures would never see Australia have a nuclear power station (for all the right reasons ofcourse), so what are they going to do with all the stuff sitting in the ground (by the way, aboriginal land, where the traditional owners don't want a mine, and don't want a waste dump put back in there to pollute their land and their health either). Export it. Where? Anywhere where public information is limited and controlled, and political oppression is rife and demand for energy for a booming industrialising economy is high, and the government and the big businesses licking their arse can do whatever they want. The offshore businesses loves you, the onshore businesses loves you, you get a big chunk of GDP growth/foreign reserves, voters are happy cos the nuke waste isn't coming back here, wah lah, k'ching!
No empathy for the environment nor public health
The environmental impact of radio active activity and waste is obviously extremely severe. Areas near the Chinobyl disaster is still badly contaminated and highly radio active (researchers need to enter in high-level protection suits) after almost 20 years after the disaster, never mind the cancers and feotal deformities of the people exposed to the radio activity in that area. This is considered short term. So think about what the long term impacts will be of other nuclear accidents. Over 22 known nuclear accidents around the world from power stations and other experiments have happened since Chynobyl. Given the fact that the Australian Government wants to contrain Australia in an energy system from 2 centuries ago rather than investing more towards renewable energy research and development, its not really that surprising that the environment isn't given much consideration in this decision to sell uranium off to China. I refer you to "Blowing In The Wind", a documentary by David Bradbury about the environmental destruction and health affects to local indigenous ppl from uranium mining and nuclear waste storage in South Australia (and other places) for an Australia context of the issue.
And now comes China, the most accident prone country in the world. They are prone to easily avoidable disasters because of corruption and lack of stricter controls in their rapidly growing industries. over 5000 miners died in coal mine disasters in China last year alone. Imagine what's going to happen in a completely new field of nuclear fission with a much greater risk of destruction to human life compared to coal mining.
Bringing Cross-Strait Arms Race to a New High
Great - China and Taiwan hates each other, and have been building up their arms on both sides of the coast of the Taiwan Strait for over 50 years. US sells billions of dollars worth of (old/retiring) arms over to Taiwan to deter China's edging military buildup each year. China buys more from other sources so it could just top Taiwan. Next year Taiwan stocks up more. On it goes. I ask you, if you were Taiwanese, would you feel safer if you had MORE weapons or less? Not the point, but certainly a sad one I should point out.
So here Australia goes fuelling this whole thing. China "promises" that its not going to use the uranium for weapons (as a signatory of the nuclear non-proliferation treaty) but Taiwan, who is not a signatory to the NPT, (Only BY DEFAULT not cos they are a rougue state, but cos they got kicked out of the UN and China won't let them back in) does not have an obligation not to develop nuke weapons. How do you think this make China (who loves their bloody ugly face, on top of it all) feel? They could never be trusted at the first place not to develop nukes in secret anyway, and now Taiwan possessing more uranium is going to ENCOURAGE China to do so.
The Taiwan Strait is probably one of the biggest flashpoints for conflict in the Asia Pacific - neither side are quite desperate enough yet to start any war yet, but if you think about the human, environmental and economic casualties if these two countries go to war. And especially if both sides had nuclear war heads. (by the way I staunchly stand by my view that Taiwan is/always should be an independant country, and this mess with China could be easily sorted by peaceful means if they'd barge, rather by brutal force from either side).
Hypocricy - now that's new
Meanwhile Downer sits around counting his cash from his free trade agreement, not really particularly concerned about human rights, a country's sovereignty, environmental degredation, blah blah blah, not going to help Taiwan if China declares war on it, cos you know, its ok to go to a totally unjustified and illegal war in Iraq to promote so called Western Democracy, but its not particularly justifiable to stand on Taiwan's side cos its a fully fledged democracy that elects their own parliament and goes about their business without hurting anyone, and instead stand by China which is an autocratic, corrupt, human rights abusing freedom hating regime.
I love Australia, I love this government, and where the bloody hell are ya?
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Should One Name Their Goldfish?
Wooooooo hoooooo! Templeton and I took an interesting leap in our relationship this week - firstly purchasing an incredibly funky giant wine glass this week as part of an accident while looking for something else 2 days ago - then secondly taking up co-stewardship over three little goldfish from the appropriately named Fyshwick Markets earlier today so they could go in our giant wine glass.
The last time I had goldfish was 8 years ago as a very irresponsible young adult and it all ended in tears. So this time I consider as a fresh start and a new commitment to lives other than my own. I have done very good research and got all the necessary gear and ready to give our new friends a good start in their new spunky home.
Though I do have one dilemma - should one name their goldfish?
Identity
Should a goldfish have an identity like another member of your house as more common and larger and longer living pets such as cats, dogs, rabbits? I understand that animals raised for the purpose of food are not usually named but animals kept as companions are. Goldfish is in that grey area (for me anyway) - I do not keep them for the purpose for food, but neither are they companions as such, as I don't actually interact with them. Sounds aweful but they are for me more like "live ornaments". Don't get me wrong I still consider them as living feeling things (particularly how prone to stress they are). But they are not really you know, companions like Sexton and Millicent. I mean, I wouldn't name a vase or a wall hanging yeah?
I am aware that some less significantly regarded animals only get names after a particular incident. For example the hen that surviveds two consequent dingo attacks or the duck that rides for 200km in the engine room of a train would be called "Lucky". My goldfish only got 4km over the hill in a VW Beetle. But I am open to the option that they will do marvellously adventurous things.
Also - Templeton's argument - they don't live very long (induced by us??) and it would be traumatic to be sentimentally attached to them, aggrevated further by giving them a name. By the way my last one was called Finglebunce. yeah it does hurt.
Identifying
Usually people and animals are given names or a number so they could be identified from their population for a variety of purposes from feeding, taxation, mating, and when they get lost. When there are quite a few goldfish it probably isn't useful to refer to one particular fish as "the fish". Although our friends are not likely to "get lost" unless the cats work out how to fish them out. But it would be particularly unuseful when you are trying to describe which one is sick, hasn't had enough to eat, or stressed out.
In our case there are only three and I particularly chose three quite different looking ones - not because it would be hard to identify but simply because I like variety. There's the black and red spotted on white one, the orange one with a white tummy, and the classically orange one from the TVNZ and tampon ads. I could just identify them as that but that's quite a bit of mouthful. And giving codes instead of names ie 1, 2, 3 or A, B, C in a small population of fish would be just rediculous.
MMM... I think I'll sit on it for a few days.
The last time I had goldfish was 8 years ago as a very irresponsible young adult and it all ended in tears. So this time I consider as a fresh start and a new commitment to lives other than my own. I have done very good research and got all the necessary gear and ready to give our new friends a good start in their new spunky home.
Though I do have one dilemma - should one name their goldfish?
Identity
Should a goldfish have an identity like another member of your house as more common and larger and longer living pets such as cats, dogs, rabbits? I understand that animals raised for the purpose of food are not usually named but animals kept as companions are. Goldfish is in that grey area (for me anyway) - I do not keep them for the purpose for food, but neither are they companions as such, as I don't actually interact with them. Sounds aweful but they are for me more like "live ornaments". Don't get me wrong I still consider them as living feeling things (particularly how prone to stress they are). But they are not really you know, companions like Sexton and Millicent. I mean, I wouldn't name a vase or a wall hanging yeah?
I am aware that some less significantly regarded animals only get names after a particular incident. For example the hen that surviveds two consequent dingo attacks or the duck that rides for 200km in the engine room of a train would be called "Lucky". My goldfish only got 4km over the hill in a VW Beetle. But I am open to the option that they will do marvellously adventurous things.
Also - Templeton's argument - they don't live very long (induced by us??) and it would be traumatic to be sentimentally attached to them, aggrevated further by giving them a name. By the way my last one was called Finglebunce. yeah it does hurt.
Identifying
Usually people and animals are given names or a number so they could be identified from their population for a variety of purposes from feeding, taxation, mating, and when they get lost. When there are quite a few goldfish it probably isn't useful to refer to one particular fish as "the fish". Although our friends are not likely to "get lost" unless the cats work out how to fish them out. But it would be particularly unuseful when you are trying to describe which one is sick, hasn't had enough to eat, or stressed out.
In our case there are only three and I particularly chose three quite different looking ones - not because it would be hard to identify but simply because I like variety. There's the black and red spotted on white one, the orange one with a white tummy, and the classically orange one from the TVNZ and tampon ads. I could just identify them as that but that's quite a bit of mouthful. And giving codes instead of names ie 1, 2, 3 or A, B, C in a small population of fish would be just rediculous.
MMM... I think I'll sit on it for a few days.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
So this is Sunday...
Yum. BB bounce at 1.30pm on a Sunday afternoon. Shiner's been howling into the hallway since 5 o'clock in the morning ie an hour after I got to sleep, and Templeton is out of town, so I let him curl up with me in bed except he keeps on piercing his claws into me. My hair smells like a Chinese basketball stadium and I sound like Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother. I believe I also have two new blisters on my little darling toe, and I feel like what I had for dinner last night - a giant tortilla.
There is something remarkably unpleasant about cleaning up cat poo with a spliting head ache. But I am pleased at least that they urinated on John Howard's picture printed on the newspaper which I deliberately lined their poo box with.
There is something remarkably unpleasant about cleaning up cat poo with a spliting head ache. But I am pleased at least that they urinated on John Howard's picture printed on the newspaper which I deliberately lined their poo box with.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Hen's Night Now
The Baroness Reporting Live from Alice's Hen's Night
5.59pm – Where are you in the Pecking Order?
Its amazing how quickly the restaurant is filled between 5.59 and 6.13. Everyone looks absolutely HOT particularly compared to the pimply wait-staff behind the bar. Alice has soon-to-be ruined nice hair and a red flashing sash with “Bride To Be” written on it. She can’t wait mate. Mel gives us bright shiny tiaras. Exchanges of formalities and confusion about ordering ensues. Spit flies in the air as girls gasp when Craig Mottram falls onto the track and get trampled over by other runners (El Rancho is also a family friendly sports bar). Alice is wisked away by her mum Trish so we could have a little briefing from Isabel about this evenings events. Heh heh heh!! My giant tortilla arrives and I temporarily forget about the fat content in my mash. The wine is awful. I believe the late person who did not check their email about change of dinner time is once again Truc. I excuse myself again for having to squeeze past Mel and Kath’s chairs. I enter the toilet to find that the toilet seat of one of the cubical has completely fallen on to the ground.
8.10 pm – The Rooster Is On Fire
We are sitting upstairs in another wholesome Manuka establishment. I've never seen this many giggling women in one room before, except for the last time my mother made dumplings. I believe I smell smoke but I down my red bull and vodka anyway, calmly sussing out how I could make it down the fire exit without being trampled over. Suddenly an officer from the ACT Fire Service arrives and... [The following section of the report has been removed to uphold the high level of broadcasting standards in this magnificent country]
8.40pm – Feathering Up
We are sooo pumped after the false fire alarm. Mel and Toni administers 20 questions with Alice – ie. A test on how well she knows Chris, on things like favourite colour, food, position, pets and children. Every question she gets wrong she has to wear a piece of embarrassing item. Turns out that Chris has deliberately or otherwise LIED in most of his answers and he will be getting a thrashing when the Mrs gets home. In record speed Alice is donned in a) an oversized bra with lollies sawn on it so she could offer it to men to eat it off her b) lots of head gear c) feather boa d) aviators e) balloons stuffed inside her bra. I believe this is when I downed another redbull and vodka.
9.02pm – The Birdcage is Broken
Upon hearing that the Moonlight Bus has arrived, the girls pour onto the street from the said wholesome establishment. We kiss Trish and those not continuing onto The Journey with us goodbye and patrons in Manuka are quite shocked by the noise and size of the entourage. The chaperon on the bus is a middle aged bloke called Glen. I have never seen anyone more like a blueberry than he does. Glen gives us very very cheap champagne in plastic cups and we all accept in delight. Although very comfortable, the Moonlight bus is a bit boring in its aesthetics, I would personally decorate it like Pricilla Queen of Desert. Alice is at the front leading the charge. We demand loud music and gets it. The rowdiness eases down the drink and I get a top up. We hoon down The State Circuit. First stop Third Degree – a cocktail bar right next to the inter-state bus depot where one goes for a drink when the bus is late or when you stupidly
listens to the taxi company and checks in 1.5 hours prior to departure. A 21st is also happening. Some little rich girl has all her mates in cocktail dresses and is currently displaying her pony pictures and those of her and her rugby playing boyfriend on the projector. We get told off for being too noisy during the speeches. Matter of time really. No dancing but we are happy with two for one drinks and Alice has successfully rids a handful of lollies.
10.10pm- Migrating Southwards
Some blokes also “chartered” the bus – but they fit in quite well with us and just loving the attention they are getting. Alice tells them about true love. Lots of giggling is going on and my head is spinning. Carrie is speaking in an English accent. There is a big pack of policemen waiting for us at the end of Commonwealth Bridge and we are made to stop. The bus explodes into shrieks of excitement, most hoping that the officers are coming onboard to do a full monty. But no. It was still exciting though it would be more fun if we got into trouble. Yes and what about my spousal security clearance? We hoon past the tunnel. All I know is that we are currently in a suburb with lots of car yards, and the pub we are in is Irish and has“O'Shea” in its title some where. VERY COOL! It has a live cover band and lots of suburb folks and an empty dance floor. Some one trips over on the way to the dance floor and the rest floats in, again in giggles. It’s amazing how much one can giggle. Alice sells off more lollies and more of blokes buying her drinks and we shake a bit of our booties. I would walk 500 Miles. These chicks absolutely rock. I order four tequila shots, and the fantastic bar tender took these enduring images of my 8th ever Hens Night.
And I would walk 500 more. Iiiidddiiiyadda iiiddiiiyaaddaa iidddiiyaadaa yaaddaa lunddaa eyyy.
11.30 pm - Cockfight
We head back to town with more cheap and nasty champagne.
Blokes say they are going to do some research at another wholesome establishment called Sensations(?) and we get dropped off at Shooters. Urrggh this is quite nasty. More dancing ensues but the lack of space for my menouvers is a bit annoying. Alice knows the trick and heads onto the stage. Really annoying dude hits on me. Really annoying dude hits on Mirjiam. Really annoying dude doesn’t get the message so the other Alice and I tell him to FUCK OFF and he does. Such a shame that I didn’t have to resolve to wedging my heels into his toes. We rock. Young dude 1 plunges onto Young dude 2 and about 4 other young dudes wrestle into a big messy pile of limbs. Some one breaks their glass. And then a finger nail. Glen the chaperone ushers us out.
12.09pm – This Chick Is Too Young
We arrive at ICBM the ultimate cowboy bar. Unfortunately I am the only person that could not get in due to incorrect ID (not fake, just not good enough) and I obviously don’t look like I’m going to turn 26 next week. Alice is pissed off about that a lot more than I am and boycotts ICBM and we do what looks like a strike outside. Glen is unable to get the bus here straight away so we dance on the pavement instead. Alice gives away more lollies. I loose most of my inhibitions and I pat Glen’s round tummy. Emma and Kath eats pizza.
1.05am – Back at the battery farm
What is left of us arrive back at the wholesome establishment in Manuka. Alice tells of various rabbit-like behaviour and we are all amused. We take advantage of our last lot of free cheap champagne and I scull about half a bottle. Nasty. Entourage flocks upstairs and its pretty amazing to think that this packed club was empty just five hours ago and the fireman was putting out fire just over there in the corner where now some kids are pashing away. This lot is a lot friendlier and Alice gets hugs from all over the place. We dance a bit more and I really don’t remember much from then. Toni and Jen challenges these chicks to a game of pool and they absolutely cane them. I don’t understand how I am still awake, but I am. We file out downstairs and line up for cabs. Last November I did it till 7. But hey, its not last November anymore.
3.00am – Nesting up and laying eggs
This is the stage of the night when beautiful people goes home to beautiful people and the not-so-beautiful people goes home with a kebab.
And WE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL!
(only by default - the kebab place was closed.)
5.59pm – Where are you in the Pecking Order?
Its amazing how quickly the restaurant is filled between 5.59 and 6.13. Everyone looks absolutely HOT particularly compared to the pimply wait-staff behind the bar. Alice has soon-to-be ruined nice hair and a red flashing sash with “Bride To Be” written on it. She can’t wait mate. Mel gives us bright shiny tiaras. Exchanges of formalities and confusion about ordering ensues. Spit flies in the air as girls gasp when Craig Mottram falls onto the track and get trampled over by other runners (El Rancho is also a family friendly sports bar). Alice is wisked away by her mum Trish so we could have a little briefing from Isabel about this evenings events. Heh heh heh!! My giant tortilla arrives and I temporarily forget about the fat content in my mash. The wine is awful. I believe the late person who did not check their email about change of dinner time is once again Truc. I excuse myself again for having to squeeze past Mel and Kath’s chairs. I enter the toilet to find that the toilet seat of one of the cubical has completely fallen on to the ground.8.10 pm – The Rooster Is On Fire
We are sitting upstairs in another wholesome Manuka establishment. I've never seen this many giggling women in one room before, except for the last time my mother made dumplings. I believe I smell smoke but I down my red bull and vodka anyway, calmly sussing out how I could make it down the fire exit without being trampled over. Suddenly an officer from the ACT Fire Service arrives and... [The following section of the report has been removed to uphold the high level of broadcasting standards in this magnificent country]
8.40pm – Feathering Up
We are sooo pumped after the false fire alarm. Mel and Toni administers 20 questions with Alice – ie. A test on how well she knows Chris, on things like favourite colour, food, position, pets and children. Every question she gets wrong she has to wear a piece of embarrassing item. Turns out that Chris has deliberately or otherwise LIED in most of his answers and he will be getting a thrashing when the Mrs gets home. In record speed Alice is donned in a) an oversized bra with lollies sawn on it so she could offer it to men to eat it off her b) lots of head gear c) feather boa d) aviators e) balloons stuffed inside her bra. I believe this is when I downed another redbull and vodka.
9.02pm – The Birdcage is Broken
Upon hearing that the Moonlight Bus has arrived, the girls pour onto the street from the said wholesome establishment. We kiss Trish and those not continuing onto The Journey with us goodbye and patrons in Manuka are quite shocked by the noise and size of the entourage. The chaperon on the bus is a middle aged bloke called Glen. I have never seen anyone more like a blueberry than he does. Glen gives us very very cheap champagne in plastic cups and we all accept in delight. Although very comfortable, the Moonlight bus is a bit boring in its aesthetics, I would personally decorate it like Pricilla Queen of Desert. Alice is at the front leading the charge. We demand loud music and gets it. The rowdiness eases down the drink and I get a top up. We hoon down The State Circuit. First stop Third Degree – a cocktail bar right next to the inter-state bus depot where one goes for a drink when the bus is late or when you stupidly
listens to the taxi company and checks in 1.5 hours prior to departure. A 21st is also happening. Some little rich girl has all her mates in cocktail dresses and is currently displaying her pony pictures and those of her and her rugby playing boyfriend on the projector. We get told off for being too noisy during the speeches. Matter of time really. No dancing but we are happy with two for one drinks and Alice has successfully rids a handful of lollies.10.10pm- Migrating Southwards
Some blokes also “chartered” the bus – but they fit in quite well with us and just loving the attention they are getting. Alice tells them about true love. Lots of giggling is going on and my head is spinning. Carrie is speaking in an English accent. There is a big pack of policemen waiting for us at the end of Commonwealth Bridge and we are made to stop. The bus explodes into shrieks of excitement, most hoping that the officers are coming onboard to do a full monty. But no. It was still exciting though it would be more fun if we got into trouble. Yes and what about my spousal security clearance? We hoon past the tunnel. All I know is that we are currently in a suburb with lots of car yards, and the pub we are in is Irish and has“O'Shea” in its title some where. VERY COOL! It has a live cover band and lots of suburb folks and an empty dance floor. Some one trips over on the way to the dance floor and the rest floats in, again in giggles. It’s amazing how much one can giggle. Alice sells off more lollies and more of blokes buying her drinks and we shake a bit of our booties. I would walk 500 Miles. These chicks absolutely rock. I order four tequila shots, and the fantastic bar tender took these enduring images of my 8th ever Hens Night.
And I would walk 500 more. Iiiidddiiiyadda iiiddiiiyaaddaa iidddiiyaadaa yaaddaa lunddaa eyyy.
11.30 pm - Cockfight
We head back to town with more cheap and nasty champagne. Blokes say they are going to do some research at another wholesome establishment called Sensations(?) and we get dropped off at Shooters. Urrggh this is quite nasty. More dancing ensues but the lack of space for my menouvers is a bit annoying. Alice knows the trick and heads onto the stage. Really annoying dude hits on me. Really annoying dude hits on Mirjiam. Really annoying dude doesn’t get the message so the other Alice and I tell him to FUCK OFF and he does. Such a shame that I didn’t have to resolve to wedging my heels into his toes. We rock. Young dude 1 plunges onto Young dude 2 and about 4 other young dudes wrestle into a big messy pile of limbs. Some one breaks their glass. And then a finger nail. Glen the chaperone ushers us out.
12.09pm – This Chick Is Too Young
We arrive at ICBM the ultimate cowboy bar. Unfortunately I am the only person that could not get in due to incorrect ID (not fake, just not good enough) and I obviously don’t look like I’m going to turn 26 next week. Alice is pissed off about that a lot more than I am and boycotts ICBM and we do what looks like a strike outside. Glen is unable to get the bus here straight away so we dance on the pavement instead. Alice gives away more lollies. I loose most of my inhibitions and I pat Glen’s round tummy. Emma and Kath eats pizza.
1.05am – Back at the battery farmWhat is left of us arrive back at the wholesome establishment in Manuka. Alice tells of various rabbit-like behaviour and we are all amused. We take advantage of our last lot of free cheap champagne and I scull about half a bottle. Nasty. Entourage flocks upstairs and its pretty amazing to think that this packed club was empty just five hours ago and the fireman was putting out fire just over there in the corner where now some kids are pashing away. This lot is a lot friendlier and Alice gets hugs from all over the place. We dance a bit more and I really don’t remember much from then. Toni and Jen challenges these chicks to a game of pool and they absolutely cane them. I don’t understand how I am still awake, but I am. We file out downstairs and line up for cabs. Last November I did it till 7. But hey, its not last November anymore.
3.00am – Nesting up and laying eggsThis is the stage of the night when beautiful people goes home to beautiful people and the not-so-beautiful people goes home with a kebab.
And WE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL!
(only by default - the kebab place was closed.)
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