Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Teehee - Weight Watchers recipe cards 1974

Lexie sent these round today, and I was still giggling about them an hour after the e-mail banter had done the rounds. My favourite has to be the bong pond (click on the link in the commentary - "Stop it! Stop staring!").

I love how they put red sauce on something and it suddenly becomes "Mexican" or "Italian".

Lexie is going to fix some love-meals for Muz when she gets home, but first she has to stock up on gelatine, beef stock and dried fish flakes :)

New online comic - Questionable Content

Questionable Content - a new online comic that MFC found. It's quite good. Heh, reminds me of my emo days in high school, moping around with the nerdy drama/muso/lit crowd, plotting revolution, listening to Depeche Mode. What a sad sack. I think my friends and I may have paid for the new wing on Anne Rice's mansion, or at least one of the buttresses... "If you become a vampire, will you come back and make me one too?" Pfffft.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Black Eyed Peas

The Black Eyed Peas were on at the Burswood Dome last night. They came on after John Legend at about 8.45 and kept going for two hours. Damn good value. Fergie's face looked very scary on the big screen but she has ripped abs and can do one-handed cartwheels so all is forgiven. Very good rack also. In fact all the Peas are pretty good breakdancers. Who would have thought it? Acoustics were not fantastic but you could still recognise the songs. Kate was antsy all week that they'd do old stuff like "Joints and Jam" - and they did.

On a side note, while that song was being played, suspicious smelling smoke was wafted off the stage. Eau de grass? Would they have money to burn a bale of the real thing for each show? I don't know.

I was in the front general admission area by myself. (After dinner I had to separate from the girls because they bought their tickets an hour after I got mine, and there were no standing tickets left in my area. In a hour.) The vibe was pretty good so I didn't mind.

Side-note: after last night, as Gwen is my witness I am never settling for anything less than front standing room at a rock concert. Being any further away is just not worth it.

I started off 50 metres away from the stage but started doing a little shuffling and dodging and some Jedi mind-tricking and finally ended up about 20 metres from the front centre. Not too shabby. There were some short girls there that I felt sorry for because there was no way they could have seen the stage.

A group of feral skanks on my right tried to push their way to the front but someone's boyfriend gave them the hard word. Hee. They also tried to pick a fight with some private school girls but that fizzled out. I was a little disappointed. I mean, da-mn, my first time in the pit AND a girlfight. Ah, the stories I could have told...

It's funny how mobile phones have replaced lighters when the ballads come on. Much prettier and without the stigma of lung cancer. How I wish my phone took proper digital photos instead of LSD-trip shots.

I also like Taboo's style, even if he does look like a character from Planet of the Apes. Will.I.Am came on and did some improv rap which was pretty good. He also did a quick cover of Milkshake and Drop It Like It's Hot. Now that's something everyone could sing along to.

The bits I enjoyed the most were:

- when "My Humps" came on. Yes, go on, cast the first stone. You love it too. Liar.
- the Peas breakdancing.
- watching feral skank girls try to get right up the front and failing, then trying to get closer to the middle but being pushed back by little schoolgirls. One of them tried to get past me but I just engaged my abs. (One day, when RPM has worked its magic, perhaps others can see them too.)

I do like that Humps song. Sigh. Although I mock them, I'm afraid I do have a little chigga in me.


Ah, a new exercise addiction. Cycling to music. Brilliant!

I started RPM it to improve my kendo performance. Witness, however, that I have been to nil kendo practices and 3 RPM classes this week. Those endorphins are damn addictive. I finish one in the morning and by lunchtime I'm already thinking about my next RPM hit.

Smart Car and mummy's boy underpants

If you Google images and type in "smart car", a car with an interesting light blue pattern will appear halfway down the page. (I asked Damon if he'd seen any smart cars [as in the ones made by Daimler-Chrysler] and he found some on Google images.)

So anyway that pattern reminds me of the men's underpants you see in Target. When I see them I usually think "What the hell kind of grown man would buy those?" It's like their mothers have always bought their underwear and they finally move out of home at 40 and they have no idea what to get and keep buying ye old faithfuls.

Well, stop it. I swear those things are on the top 10 "Is your date a loser?" list that sends women running away. Right up there with g-string swimwear and wearing white singlets under see-through shirts. Gentlemen, the only female equivalent that immediately springs to mind is, well, nothing springs to mind. I suppose because as long as there's a naked chick in front of them guys don't care if she's wearing some dead raccoons and a hat made of earwax. Ditto for Speedos. No patterns. Just plain, and in any colour as long as it's black*.

White underwear, unless you're Marky Mark Wahlberg also makes women queasy. Please, unless you're an immaculate gay man who knows about bleach - no white.

Well, that's my rant for the day done.

*5th Oct 2005 - Hmm, in retrospect, that's probably a little harsh. I would like to rephrase that as "any solid dark colour". There, there, you can stop crying now... :)

Friday, September 09, 2005

"10 secrets for success and inner peace" by Wayne Dyer

1. Have a mind that is open to everything and attached to nothing.

2. Don't die with your music still within you.

3. You can't give away what you don't have.

4. Embrace silence.

5. Give up your personal history.

6. You can't solve a problem with the same mind that created it.

7. There are no justified resentments.

8. Treat yourself as if you already are what you'd like to be.

9. Treasure your divinity.

10. Wisdom is avoiding all thoughts that weaken you.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Film title quiz

Go to this site and click on "Film Title Quiz", it shows scenes from movies and you have to guess the title. Very well done.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Spiderwebs and caffeine addiction

An interesting site about how spiders produced the worst webs under the influence of caffeine. Published in 1995 though, and makes rather spurious claims about how caffeine contributes to a lot of mental illnesses. (I don't drink coffee but I would've liked to see something more conclusive.)


I must get an engagement ring for emergency situations.

Janine has lent me some short-notice bling to wear on my wedding ring finger for the next two days. If necessary, I have concocted an appropriate story about my husband (not sure if I should use Kim or Ryan for this one - their boyfriends won't mind, I'm sure) and Janine can phone my mobile at regular intervals so that I can answer it and go "OK, sweetie, I'll pick Angie Junior up from school today! Mwah mwah. Yes, your boxing gloves and rappeling gear are in the Jeep. Love you! No, love you more! Oh, you naughty boy... tee hee..."

I'm sure Nicky would be chagrined if she could see me, but I am deliberately wearing my "bite me" work outfit today and making sure all cleavage is hidden. At times like these I can see the attraction of the chador.

And if I really need to, I'll ask Carl E to show up in his tightest singlet and say he just dropped in to see his angel-pie before going to kick-boxing class. In those words! I can make him do it! He owes me a favour!

Thursday, July 28, 2005


Eftel put me on hold and I'm being forced to listen to Delta Goodrem! AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Recipe: Pecan pie


Janis Dohmann's Pecan Pie

2 Eggs, Slightly Beaten
1 Cup Light Corn Syrup (I used Golden Syrup)
1/4 Cup Sugar
2 Tablespoons Flour
1/4 Teaspoon Salt
1 Teaspoon Vanilla
1-1/4 Cups Broken Texas native pecans (Or just use broken walnuts, because pecans are v. expensive in Australia)

1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees C.

2. Spread pecans in an unbaked 9-inch pie shell. (Pampas makes a nice sweet flan shell. Their ready-rolled, cut-it-yourself pastry however, is terrible.)

3. Mix remaining ingredients and pour over pecans.

4. Bake at 180 degrees C. for 40 to 50 minutes or until filling is set.


1. I blind-baked the flan shell for about 10 minutes to make it extra crispy.
2. Cover the pie crust with aluminium foil about halfway through baking to prevent crust from getting too brown before the pie is done.
3. Next time I'm going to try and use honey instead of golden syrup because I don't like the slightly metallic aftertaste of golden syrup . Will also try halving the sugar as it was very sweet.


Darn it! System of a Down gives me motion sickness. I was listening to their "Mezmerize" album last night, and although I was really enjoying the songs (especially B.Y.O.B. and Revenga), I started getting that strange dizzy ill feeling that you only get when your parents force you to sit in the back seat for hours and hours with the smell of hot vinyl in your nostrils. Oh yes - good times...

So that's rather unfortunate as I really do like their music. (I can see Ching rolling her eyes - first hip hop, and now metal, she's thinking. Oy vey :) I think it's mainly the thrashy bits that give me vertigo, which is strange because I wasn't even head-banging at the time...

Anyway, it's very annoying, this tendency towards motion sickness. I can't play first-person PC games or go in submarines, and although they say that people who get motion sickness tend to have a good sense of balance (due to some mechanical process in the inner ear), "they" have obviously never seen me try to balance on a bar stool while painting behind the Rangehood (I nearly electrocuted myself, but that's a story for another day).

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Arrested Development/ice-cream

I love how 80s and 90s TV stars are being rediscovered and reinvented. First the ladies (and lovely gay Matt) from Melrose Place in Desperate Housewives, and now Jason Bateman in Arrested Development. And Silver Spoons boy in Scrubs and, is it NYPD Blue? I can't remember and quite frankly can't be arsed looking it up. All we need now is for Scott Baio to join DH and my happiness will be complete.

Doh, now I have the Charles in Charge theme song in my head. I don't know the words, but that is one catchy chorus!

I watched 7 episodes of Arrested Development back-to-back last night and nearly peed myself laughing.

Ice-cream with Susan was very good yesterday. I had a Magnum Ego (yes, the irony) which is vanilla ice-cream dipped in chocolate, covered with caramel and then dipped in chocolate again. Frozen caramel is a bit strange. I can't wait till Nasa invents a way of making caramel runny even though it's frozen between chocolate coating. Hmm, if they added alcohol to the caramel that would probably work. Add alcohol to caramel? Brilliant!

Hang on though, that would mean that the outer layer of chocolate would have nothing to stick to. Damn, think these things through before you say them, Angie!

Now, I was rather traumatised last Friday because two large bits of white chocolate coating dropped from my Cadbury Dream ice-cream onto the carpeted floor, so you can see how having two layers of chocolate dip gave me a nice feeling of security. I also like the new Arnott Tim Tam Cornettos, and anything cookies and cream can do no wrong in my eyes.

You can tell that I'm staying with my parents again, can't you? It's not just the extra eye bags that even miracle SK-II eye film can't soften, and the harassed lemming look and the slight tremor. It's also the inversely proportional weight gain correlating to time spent with parental units and trying to fill my emotional canyon of doom with food. Ching, back me up on this one.

Anyway, talking to Susan is great. Everything suddenly falls into perspective and you can see that things aren't always your fault, and really, as she likes to put it, in 100 years who's going to care anyway?


I'm going to Japan next February!

Kim e-mailed to say that Monika (the travel agent) said it would be OK to fit me in for the first week (snowboarding in Niseko) so it looks like I'll be there for the whole three weeks: first week snowboarding in Niseko (I'll have to take private English lessons at first because I've never done it before), 2nd week seeing Kyoto and 3rd week seeing Tokyo, where I might get to catch up with Momo and Pete Strauss from kendo, but with only 4 days in Tokyo this may be a little ambitious.


I've already budgeted for it. Will have less to spend on house deposit, but it'll be the trip of a lifetime :D

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

I need chocolate

What a delightful morning. First I'm woken by the strange odour of soup at 6.30 (it's not really the kind of thing you want to wake up to at that time of day), then later I smell burning, and the smoke alarm goes off. Someone's forgotten to take the soup off the stove, and I can't find the smoke alarm because it's been fastened to the ceiling fan using a luggage tie.

I park at the train station and start walking to work. It rains at a diagonal angle. 5 minutes into the walk it rains harder and I decide to go back to the car and drive in and pay for parking at work. I turn around and my shoes fill with water. I leave the train station car park and as I drive out the rain stops and the sun comes out.

Having lunch with Susan later. I plan to have an ice-cream the size of my head afterwards. As Jon said last night, it's funny how girls eat bad food when they're feeling bad, and guys eat bad food because they know it's bad and feel bad afterwards.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Bad things I have done #2

I made a prank call to a boy I met at Bible Camp (yeah, har har, get it out of your system now), pretending I was the mother of a girl he'd been dating and now she had morning sickness and I demanded an explanation, young man!

His mother took the call and gave the phone to her husband, I didn't know and kept talking. Chaos ensued. He got my name and threatened to tell my dad (the parish priest) and I spend the next hour on my knees praying to God not to smite me and wondering if 12 year olds could be sent to the big-house.

I didn't make another prank call for 4 years, and then I got someone else (Nicky) to do the voice :)


So on Groove (101.7) this morning they were talking about eggs and how you like to have them, and for me that would be (in priority order) 1) half-way between soft-boiled and hard-boiled with a few drops of soy sauce, served in an egg-cup with hot buttered toast 2) fried with a slightly runny yolk and a few drops of soy sauce 3) scrambled with salt and pepper on hot buttered toast 4) in cake.

Hot damn, I love eggs. Although I hate birds. Oh - the irony!

And then I thought of this girl who I went to boarding school with but was a few years above me. Her name was either Fiona or she had a sister called Fiona or her sister's best friend was called Fiona. Anyway, they had to put together projects for some Science fair and what Fiona-or-maybe-that-wasn't-her-name chose to do was the developmental cycle of the chicken in the shell. So she took 21 freshly fertilised chicken eggs*, put them under an incubator, and then every day, cracked an egg open and put the contents into a small jar. This didn't start off too badly, but apparently by day 8 it started to become quite gross, and by day 16 she was peeling off bits of egg off these half-formed embryos *barf* And on the last day the last egg hatched. Awww...

* It just occurred to me that it would be really hard to perform artificial insemination on a chicken, let alone an unfertilised chicken egg. Hee. I'm feeling silly today.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Urban legends

I was reading stuff on the Snopes site today, and this reminded me of how you get the same urban legends all over the world, but with local flavour (Mmm, new instant noodles now with...local flavour!) Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, eh?

Here's one I remember my Mum telling me about the Phillipines:

Apparently there's a huge department store in Manila that's been owned by the same family for decades. They're incredibly rich and have lavish lifestyles, but they have a horrible secret [
can you see where this is going?]; one of the sons in this family was born horribly deformed and he's kept locked up somewhere. Some of the women's fitting rooms are actually rigged with a fake wall, and while they're trying on clothes these walls open up and the hapless women are whisked away to feed his gruesome appetites, never to be seen again [what, they're so rich they can't buy sexual favours like normal rich bastards?].

And then in the country I grew up in, whenever any big construction projects are going on single women and young people are told to stay indoors, because superstitious builders believe that foundations will only hold firm if people are buried underneath them. Bridges are especially bad because you need someone for each post.

There's also the local vampire or
pontianak who appears as a beautiful girl with long flowing black hair dressed in white, often accompanied by a strong smell of frangipani or jasmine. They only prey on men, but what exactly they do to these men has never been elaborated on [are they forced to go curtain shopping at Ikea? The horror! The horror!] Apparently though, if you're a little desperate and want to find yourself a sexy female slave, word on the street is, you can trap these ladies in mortal form. There's a little hole on the back of their necks, and if you carry an iron nail around with you and you're fast enough to insert this nail into the hole, they'll become mortal and be your docile love slave. To which I say, good grief, if you're desperate enough to risk death at the hands of a vengeful she-demon to get a bit of nookie, why not just propose marriage to Rose Hancock? Eh?

I don't know if this story has a happily-ever-after. Follow-up stories have someone accidentally removing the nail and either watching the pontianak crumble into a pile of dust, or turning on the man who enslaved them and dealing him a horrible death.

Ooh, I've just remembered another one called the penanggal.
It's a woman who's made a pact with the devil, looks normal during the day, but at night her head detaches from her body and flies around with her entrails dangling behind her, looking for pregnant women and young children (mainly firstborns) so that she can feast on their blood.

Apparently they enter through the floorboards so the main way to deter them is to have spiky plants underneath the house (ref: the Queenslander house-on-stilts style of architecture) or to sleep with a knife under the pillow.

There's also a little demon some witch-doctors keep in a bottle made from bits of dead baby that they've robbed from graves.

Hmm, I'm starting to creep myself out. And I'm house-sitting this week. Doh!

PS. I hate clowns. They're evil at worst, and pathetic at best. Just thought I'd throw that in. Nicky used to have a clown doll that laughed when you pulled the cord hanging out of its back. Ye gads that thing was creepy.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Heated car seats

I don't like 'em. I remember the first time I rode in a rich man's Audi and the seat warmers came on. My first thought was "Holy crap! I've wet myself!"

It's rather disconcerting.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Batman Begins

Absolutely, positively, the best Batman film EVER. Some movies just get silly and let you down half-way, but BB had really good pacing and flow. It was pretty much riveting from start to finish. Some of the very intelligent (or do I mean barely intelligible?) thoughts running through my head during the movie were:

1. I love Christian Bale. Ooh, Christian Bale doing push-ups. Mmm, Christian Bale getting out of bed.
2. Liam Neeson is one fine looking man. Nice to know some things just get better with age.*
3. I want to go to ninja school!
4. Hehe, he's a psychologist and his name is Dr. Crane! I don't like Dr. Crane, he has girly fish-lips.
5. That is all.

I also find that I'm quite susceptible to advertising. That beer ad for Beck's came on and I thought "Wow, German sounds so cool! I wish I was German!" Good chocolate is so cheap in Germany. You can pick anything and it'll be melt-in-your-mouth goodness. Whereas here the equivalent product would taste like Milo-flavoured wax. And German immigration were so nice and just let me straight through when I visited. "Haff a nice day!" said the nice Teutonic man to me, barely glancing at my passport. UK immigration on the other hand were going "How long are you staying for? What are you doing for a living? Where are you studying? When do you finish your degree? Where are you staying in London? Let me see your ticket so I can see when you're flying back!" and I was going "Dude! I come from country with better weather. I don't want to stay here!"

Sorry about the jive talk. I was watching "Save the Last Dance" with the girls last night and we were going "Holla holla holla - why you all up in my grill foo'?" all night. Hee.

* Seeing Liam Neeson in BB also got the bad taste of Kinsey out of my mouth. Urgh! Self-pleasuring grandma! Ptui!

Friday, June 24, 2005

Feeling alive

Ever notice how you never feel more alive than when you're slightly uncomfortable, or even in pain? You don't lie in bed wrapped in a nice warm doona, reading a book and eating chocolates and thinking "Hmm, I've never felt more alive." You think it when you're outside in the freezing cold, or your heart's racing from speeding downhill on skates, or your muscles are burning from pushing your body too far.

Feeling alive isn't always about feeling comfort. Wow, that's the deepest thought I've had all day.

Bad things I have done #1

If someone pushes in front of me in a queue, or if they're doing something annoying, I like to breathe heavily through my nose onto the backs of their necks :)

Yeah, this is pretty tame. Thought I'd warm up first.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005


My mother said something interesting the other night. She was talking about how a lot of guys are going around sporting that interesting quiff-type hairdo à la David Beckham, except she didn't describe it as such, and used a lot more hand-gestures.

I was getting a little confused when suddenly she said "You know, like Tintin!" "Holy cow!" I thought. "She's hit it on the head. Now that I think about it. They do look like Tintin!" It's funny to think about all these guys walking around thinking they look so cool when they actually resemble a 1920's comic book character who wore short pantaloon pants :)

I also noticed an abundance of these styles amongst the clones at the Llama Bar when I went with the girls + 1 escort/chaperone to Subi a few Saturday nights ago. Funny place, the Llama Bar. You'd see someone and go "Hm, he's alright," and then see someone else and think "Isn't that the same guy, but in a slightly different shirt?" Then you realise you've stepped into an episode of the O.C. - clone city! Definitely no rugged individualists in this group. Then on to the Sapphire Bar. Too much douf-douf music and even more posers. Sigh. How hard is it to find a place in this town where you can: 1) be silly 2) dance to songs you know 3) sing along to songs you know?

And sigh, the boys have learnt a new word and were using it today: bukkake.

Friday, June 17, 2005

But my horoscope told me to buy it!

Hilarious. I've just received the Priceline magazine, which is basically a huge advertising catalogue, but printed on nice shiny managzine paper, and here is my horoscope for this season:

"Your working life is a major feature during the autumn months. Interaction with colleagues and new projects are on the horizon - a perfect time for you to bring all your great ideas forward. Stay well presented and fresh at work meetings and functions with Summer's Eve Feminine Cleansing Cloths 16pack, $5.39."

I suppose it could have been much worse, it could have started with:

"Leos are vulnerable to thrush!"
"Leos, have people been avoiding you?"

Oh dear, this could so easily turn ugly. I will desist here.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Hokkien - telling it like it is

I love my dialect group. It's so rude and completely straight to the point. It's the Dr. Phil of Chinese dialects, but with hair.

An aunt of mine (who shall remain unnamed - Ching, if you would like this entry deleted, do let me know) used to breed terriers. Very cute ones. Anyway, as she was driving around the neighbourhood one day, she spotted a rather fetching cocker spaniel that she thought would make a good, erm, donor to her stable. So she decided to borrow it for a couple of days. And before you decide to pile on the recriminations, let me remind you that this is South East Asia we're talking about. People either let their pets roam free or chain them up all day. Sometimes they end up as other people's lunches. I've seen dead cats on top of rubbish bins and bits of dogs, well, let's just not go there. I'm not condoning it, but that's how it is. A dog here, an underage sweat-shop worker there, meh, it's all the same to some people.

So she lures the dog into the 4WD with some biscuits, and manages to smuggle it home, where she sets it up with one of her desperate ladies and waits for the fireworks to happen. The dog just sits there. Shoving the dog closer to the target and, at one point, lifting said dog into position have no effect whatsoever.

My grandmother happens to walk past, takes a single look at the situation and sums it up in three words: "BO LAM PAH!"

A closer check does indeed, reveal, that if our dog were human, he would be singing soprano and loving pastels (gross generalisation, I know). Hee.

Hokkien is also very good for swearing at impolite people, but only in countries without a large migrant Asian population. Colourful epithets regarding the genitalia of the man who just shoved you on the escalator, or the current occupation of the mother of the woman who stole your place in the queue, may all be freely bandied about without fear of imputation. So - no storing up of tiny balls of rage and raising the blood pressure, and public swearing without getting in trouble. It's all win-win :)

Sunday night

Kylie was a flop. They expected 1400 people at the Harbourside and only 100 showed up, apparently. So we had a drink at Little Creatures and then went back to D Court to play Pictionary and Charades.

I have the image of Kim doing the charade for "The Virgin Suicides" burned into my eyelids.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Quote from Scrubs 4.13 ("My Ocardial Infarction")

I think the second you stop fighting it, time really is on your side. - JD

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Photographer risks life to take photos of natives eating other people's fingers

Do you know how offputting it is to be eating spare ribs while your parents discuss cannibalism?

Sugar and Spice, Foxtel, Acoustic Anne-Marie, Afterwards

I went on a little excursion to the video store and got out a swag of DVD booty, ar. So I'm watching Sugar and Spice and the character of Jack Bartlett played by James Marsden SO reminded me of someone that I kept bursting into little fits of hysteria (Nicky - you will know EXACTLY who I'm talking about). I call them "golden retriever" men. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you obviously haven't had a lot of experience with dogs... And I don't mean Metro Freo on a Saturday night. Hee.

The parentals have now installed Foxtel, which I have no time to watch, (I don't have a very active social life but I have no spare time on my hands. Yes, I can't figure it out either.) but on the odd occasion that I do, let me say that it just opens up a whole new bag of scariness. How do the people on TWOP put it? Oh yes, you stare at the floor and whisper "Awkward." Another variation is to mutter "Un! Comfortable!" through gritted teeth. Animal Planet - that just leads to places you don't want to explore with your parents watching, and don't even get me started on explaining the plot of Flowers in the Attic to your mother (as I did tonight).

(Actually it wasn't that bad, my mum is very cool. HOWEVER, she is a midwife, so please never, never, never I'm-begging-you-with-a-side-of-Kyan-Douglas get her started on the topic of nipples. In fact, topic-wise around my mother, never venture below the neck area.* Un! Comfortable!)

On Friday night, Anne-Marie and Donna played an acoustic set at the Swan Basement. I arrived early and had to wait in the Swan Hotel (which is, surprisingly enough, above the Swan Basement) with my diet cola post-mix while large beefy men with no chins watched the footy on about 30 televisions. I presume such a large number of televisions were needed due to the absence of chins, necks, and hence, neck-turning ability among the Swan Hotel's usual clientele. Anyway, I think I fitted in about as well as a tampon in a barbershop.

Luckily the Basement opened up 10 minutes later and I made my way downstairs to a completely different room where Graham, Jake and Leesh were seated around a Starfighter type game, and the people that milled around wore shirts with collars (presumably because they had necks). It was like walking through a wormhole (the Star Trek kind). Very strange. Everyone else turned up shortly after Jake had caned Graham's arse by about 1000 points.

AM and Donna played beautifully. AM's written some really lovely songs, full of fire, some of them very moving, and I think she will make it big. (And I will get to go to all the backstage parties. Woo!)

Despite poor Jon's sleepy protests, we went back to D Court afterwards and admired (well, in my case, heckled) the mail-ordered swords (and helmet) that they'd ordered a couple of weeks ago. Carl used his smiting sword to very cleanly cut Graham's Subway footlong in half, so I suppose barbaric weaponry can come in useful sometime. Meh. Bamboo's good enough for me. Although a smiting sword would make an excellent suburito. Sorry, just ignore my inner kendo geek.

*Actually, just don't discuss anything anatomical with my mother at all, even objects above the neckline can be used as cannon fodder - my mother was convinced for years that I was growing a small hump on my back and would end up ringing bells at Notre Dame in my twenties. I think this was her loveable variation on the "Stand up straight!" routine that mothers tell their slouchy teenage daughters. A pity it never came true - I could have named it "Leopold" and pretended it was my dead twin, or repelled annoying people by asking them if they wanted to touch it. Hmm, good times...

Friday, June 03, 2005

Things that Janine says to me at least once a day

"You idiot!"
"You're an idiot!"
"Get out of my office!"

28th May recap: Ross Noble at the Playhouse, Becca's birthday party

Well, my recollection of this is sketchy at best, so I'll put my thoughts down in point form:

- Holy crap, when did Ross Noble get so chunky?

- Hehe, owl cage bling (you had to be there).

- Audience participation should be made illegal (either that or Angie should be allowed to bring an elephant tranquilliser gun with her to all future gigs). There were some very drunk or stoned people who would shout incoherent things from the balcony and at one point started singing "Yellow Submarine".

- Gah, I think the same ditzy blondes from Kill Wil were at the gig. They kept bursting into shrieks of laughter at the wrong moments. And the hullabaloo that erupted when he started talking about Telstra, ye gods. When asked where she worked at Telstra and she replied "Directory assistance", I thought "A-HA! It's all so clear now!" (That's where they used to send the Telstra dregs. Like in Judge Dredd where the exiled judges were sent out into the desert to convert the people who insisted on marrying their cousins.)

- I think Ross-boy was getting a little annoyed. Was it the way he told the people at the back to "SHUT THE F*** UP?" Just a thought.

- During interval Janine (who had been sitting in the row behind me with Allan) said she'd gone to the loo before the show and seen some girls openly popping a couple of tablets.
Angie: "Well, maybe they had a headache and were taking some Neurofen."
Janine (with appropriate "you are a simpleton" look): "Angie, Neurofen doesn't come packaged in clingwrap."

Oh good grief, what a waste of an E (not that I endorse drugs of course blah blah blah). It's a comedy gig - why would you need to take ANYTHING? Well, maybe if you were seeing Wil Anderson live... (NB. Wil, you material recycling hack - I WANT MY MONEY BACK!)

Onto Becca's party. I thought I would need to go to bed early, but whaddya know, ended up staying till 3.30. It's a bit sad, I really should leave just after the peak but for some reason I keep going while other (note: YOUNGER but only chronologically) people start yawning and curling up on the floor.

Carl introduced me to a TV cartoon series called Sealab 2020. I'm just confused now as to whether it's quite clever or just really REALLY crap. Yes, it's that kind of show. Hmm, maybe alcohol was required. Or I should've asked one of the girls in the Playhouse loo for a "Neurofen". Dave arrived as Goldmember. I thought my eyes were going to start bleeding.

I like silver wigs. I think I'll get one.

Not again...

At a party I dropped a Dorito and then accidentally stepped on it when I bent over to retrieve it. Damn!

When I told Damon he said, "Hey, that was me at the last party!" We come to the conclusion that mortal food cannot withstand our martial arts-enhanced reflexes. (So why wasn't I able to block men cuts from a beginner last night? Dammit!)

Hehe, I was thinking of a friend I ran into in South Perth a few months ago. He was with one of those clone girls that you see at clubs hanging around in pouty packs. Asian fever material. Long Jennifer Aniston hair, perky boobs, beestung lips, heavily plucked eyebrows, very long nails, tight three-quarter jeans, and that permanent pissed off look (or maybe it's the pout, it's very hard for me to tell)... I was mentally rolling my eyes so high that I could see my hypothalamus. "Oh, J, I'm so disappointed in you," was my first thought. So we're standing there catching up on news, and he doesn't even attempt to introduce her, and she doesn't even try to join in the conversation, just stands there poutily and looking kind of pissed off. Hee. I found it all highly amusing.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005


Holy crap - the lighting in the women's change rooms is brutal! I think I'll stop eating until Friday.

Eh, who am I kidding?

Monday, May 23, 2005

Oh dear lord...

I saw the ugliest shoes today. Normally I don't care this much... oh OK, maybe I care a little, and then I heckle. A lot. (I really have to make a deposit in the karma piggy bank soon.)

But these shoes were SO truly hideous I could not stop staring at them. And then I had to tell Janine about them. Immediately. (She already thinks I'm completely mad anyway.)

They were like black suede desert boots with white stitching and two thick red fabric straps across the front. I know this sounds fairly innocuous but you weren't there to see them. Even Noddy would have rejected them. Heck, even Big Ears would have rejected them. And he's a gnome!

Perhaps I'm being mean. Maybe she was at a fair for special people, OK, let's make that special blind people, and decided to help one of them out and bought their special shoes. Maybe she ran out of clean shoes because her shoe rack exploded unexpectedly. Maybe her five year old made them and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. I don't know. I just really really hope she doesn't wear them tomorrow.

Sunday, May 22, 2005


Eh, trying to be ladylike just doesn't cut it for me. I have to ask my mother if the "special" fairy godmother attended my baptism and decided to leave a surprise gift.

The Tupperware party was lovely, and Emma's mother and her friends were lovely, although after too much champagne even lovely Mums start having conversations that freak their children out :) I'll leave the rest to everyone's imagination...

And there was stacks of food - oh Em, how well you know me... :)

In the space of an hour I had managed to:
- spill my glass of water on the carpet,
- spill someone else's glass of white (thank God) wine on the carpet,
- hand round a tray of pastries and watch in horrified slow motion as one fell onto said carpet in an explosion of tiny crispy flakes.

All that was lacking was a large tub of custard and jelly for me to take a pratfall into, or for the small terrier that was running around to somehow become hilariously entangled in my underwear...

Other incidents have included:

- Childhood visits to restaurants ending in a blur of various beverages spilling across tables, Coke, Fanta, 7-Up, red cordial...

- Being invited to tea at the headmaster's house upon first arriving at boarding school, and watching my orange cordial spread like a liquid mushroom cloud over Mrs. Bickerdike's immaculate white tablecloth...

- Cups of Chinese tea at dim sum leaving brown tide marks around islands of steamed goods...

- Watching videos at someone's rented house and spilling red wine over a two metre radius onto their white carpet. It was like the aftermath of Psycho, but less tasteful...

...and the list of spillages goes on. The accidental stabbing, slicing and grating of digits and appendages I'll save for another blog. Also the strange driving events where I become distracted by the second set of lights and not the ones directly ahead, or I start singing along to the radio and miss my freeway exit. Twice. Sonofa...

Friday, May 20, 2005

Buffy byte and new words

Remember when Willow met Tara and became a lesbian? Now really, WHO WOULD'VE SEEN THAT COMING?!


Interesting colloquialisms to add to "brown sugar" vocabulary (courtesy of


1. (verb) To run or to leave in a hurry
E.g. "I f**kin' booked when the pigs showed up."

1. (noun) One with an overinflated ego, sex drive and self-image, and also a complete moron, the Peel is typically a chav, this person believes themselves to be an absolute sex god, and will regale everyone with his (often fictitious) exploits. He also has an obsession with male genitalia.

This particular brand of chav is, as with many, also an alcoholic. The beverage of choice is Carlsberg, and consumption is usually around the mark of 50 pints per week. Consequently, when combined with the hyperactive sex-drive and IRC chat, the Peel will often resort to asking for (gay) cybersex from people who will turn him down repeatedly, but he'll hump them anyway.

One final note to make on the Peel is his fetish for exhibitionism. He will think that it is clever to wear a thong to a formal ball, and then climb on a table and strip off, causing nausea among many attendees.

2. (verb) To leave or exit or evacuate the scene/premises.
E.g. "Yo - I'm bout to peel, this party is wack."

3. (verb) To steal.
E.g. "I peeled this bike out of a yard and rode it home last night."

4. (verb) The act of ejaculating on an unsuspecting girl, used in the context "to peel one off".
E.g. "In that movie he totally peeled one off on her face!"

Such a versatile word. I think I'll bring it out at the Tupperware party tonight at Emma's Mum's house :)

Emma has threatened to uninvite me if I attempt any kind of homie speak around her mother. I shall have to switch to sweet demure Angie mode. Oh, the strain...

Recipe file: Mango pudding

3 packets of mango jelly mix (or tropical fruit jelly mix)
1 large tin of mango slices
1 normal sized tin of evaporated milk

1. Drain the tinned mango and keep the syrup or juice separate. Puree the tinned mango in a blender.
2. Dissolve the jelly mix in 500ml of boiling water.
3. Stir the syrup/juice from the mangoes to the jelly mix. Wait for the mix to cool.
4. Stir in the evaporated milk.
5. Put it into the fridge until it sets.

This makes a softer dessert pudding. I like my jelly quite firm and not so sweet, so for personal use (don't go there!) I only use two packets of jelly and plain gelatine, and skimmed milk. The only thing about using skimmed milk is that it curdles a little when you stir it in. It makes no difference to the taste, but it doesn't look as nice.

Desperate Housewives...

Man, I wish I were one, but only if I could be married to Tom, and without the homely aggressive kids.

I have all these back episodes of DH to watch and it's cutting into my bedtime! I'm completely addicted. I start watching at 9pm on my laptop. Then I have to watch the next episode. Soon it's 10.30pm. Hmm, I can squeeze in one more, right? 11pm. I'll just watch till 11.30. I did manage to tear myself away at midnight, but only just. Soon I'll run out, and I'll have to find something else to watch, or actually start doing things that matter in the real world and don't add to the size of my arse.

Those houses are fantastic. I want to live in one. Now that someone topped themselves in one and someone else was murdered in another, the real estate values must be stabilising in the area, right?

They've stolen the set from the Truman Show. Lynette has the best kitchen. Her children need to be sent to military school (that's my solution for everything... People getting you down? Military school! Your fruit cake's sunk in the middle? Military school!) Everyone has the same lawn layout (one tree in the middle surrounded by hydrangeas. Speaking of which, how did Bree's lawn recover so quickly after Mrs Huber rolled the dead guy onto it? Such deep thoughts occupy me as I lie in bed at night). Gabrielle's stylist has to get some glasses. Rex has to get a spine. I have Bree's anal retentiveness and Susan's klutziness, except without the legs that go up to my neck and the flawless skin and the cute little jumpers. Sigh. Que sera sera.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Calories OUT! OUT!

Right, my BRAND NEW weight-loss strategy is as follows...

Two photos on PC desktop to look at when contemplating consumption:

Photo #1, named "Are you sure you want to eat that.jpg":
Group action shot of the "six marry murderesses" from Chicago in their fishnets and lycra. Reason to be explained in a later blog, say, around June.

Photo #2, captioned "Are you REALLY sure you want to eat that.jpg":
Photo of very stern Jennifer Garner in black leather outfit from Season 2 with very toned arms and abs.

Of course, having these on my desktop is certainly not going to help the lesbian rumours. (It's hard having these broad swimmer's shoulders.)

Past strategy failures include:

Theory: Eating only when hungry.
Reality: Always hungry. Next.

Theory: Eating only at mealtimes.
Reality: Mealtimes become 7 courses long and 2 hours long. Next.

Theory: Keeping healthy snacks in drawer.
Reality: All snacks consumed in one sitting. Next.

Theory: Exercise.
Reality: I like this one, but I've had bad luck recently with feeling run down, followed by back problems, followed by flu. Must persevere and go to kendo. I'm sure the Shaolin Temple monks weren't coddled with a cup of Lemsip and a hot water bottle when they got the sniffles.

Where's Mr. Burns? Can't he just pay for the liposuction?


I'm sure that people in cars actually speed up when they see me crossing the road.

Friday, May 13, 2005


OMG! I'm just listening to a Backstreet Boys song at work (yeah, yeah, save the heckling for later) and they've just used the word "tragical" so that they had something to rhyme with "magical". That's not a word!

I'm crushed!

"The Ring"

I should never have watched "The Ring". It totally messed with my mind. For two weeks afterwards I kept having "Ring" flashbacks under my eyelids whenever I closed them.

It was the feature movie on the plane that I took from Perth to Singapore en route to London. We found out very late that the flight from Singapore to London was delayed, and that we would have to stay overnight at Changi airport. I booked their very last room with an ensuite before leaving Perth, thinking I was sooo clever. Well...

So I watched "The Ring" on the plane and was very freaked out, even though it was in crappy stereo headphone sound and was showing on a screen the size of a postcard. Then we finally arrived in Singapore and I checked into the airport hotel. We walked through the corridor where the normal rooms were, and then walked straight past them. Then we walked down a long staircase. And then we walked down another corridor.

"Excuse me, where are we going?" I asked the porter.
"Well, ma'am, all the normal rooms with ensuites are taken. But we've got a renovated store room down here that we use for extra guests."
"Oh. Good."

I have to switch to present tense now to describe the terror that followed:

Finally, at the end of the corridor is a single door. He lets me into the room and then ominously closes the door behind him.

The Room is dimly lit, has two single beds, and a TV SUSPENDED FROM THE CEILING THAT HAS BEEN UNPLUGGED AND IS FACING THE BEDS (and is too high up for me to put something over the screen so it doesn't glare at me). I'm starting to freak out again.

Then I go to the bathroom, which has FLOOR TO CEILING, WALL TO WALL mirrors, is ridiculously long and has a dark shower cubicle at the far end. I think I took all of 2 seconds to have my shower. And I certainly didn't stop to make eye contact with my reflection in the mirror.

Then I lie down in bed and discover that both beds are reflected in the television screen. ARRRRRRRRRGH!!!

The next few hours ticked past excrutiatingly slowly as I tried to remember the words to "Hail Mary" and all the songs I was ever taught in Sunday school.

I nearly kissed the cleaner when she started vaccuuming outside my door at 6am. It felt like the longest 5 hours of my life. Ironically, it may also have shaved off 5 years of my life.

Damn those demon children. I'm only watching Reese Witherspoon comedies from now on...

Evil chain mail - she's after my soul!

Well, it's the right day for ghosts. It's dark and gloomy, the kind of weather that makes trees look sinister and little children look like they've come here on a field trip from Salem's Lot.

Anyway, I was trashed this morning because yesterday, Miss Nicky, in her infinite wisdom, forwarded on a "Ringu" type chain letter to me. I didn't open the .jpg file, but I read the text at the bottom, which might be enough. I don't know. Anyway, the gist of it was "This is a picture of a woman who died in hospital on Monday [or something like that], you must forward on this letter to five more people or she will come for your soul. Blah blah a woman from Western Sydney ignored this message and died in an accident the next day blah." Now, in principle, I refuse to forward on chain letters or e-mails, even the ones from the Dalai Lama that promise me eternal happiness and meeting my buff soulmate if I send on his happy Prozac message in ten days to ten people. So I didn't open the graphic, because I was in the middle of some work thing, and I deleted the e-mail.

Unfortunately, I have an overactive imagination, and last night I kept lying fitfully in bed, in the dark (ironically, I can only sleep in the dark, but I'm also afraid of the dark), and kept waking up with a start and turning on the bedside light. But I couldn't sleep because the light was on, so I'd turn it off, and then I couldn't sleep because it was dark and a vengeful demon was going to devour my soul, so you can see the bind I was in.

And then this morning, I had a close miss while while driving into work on the freeway. I was changing lanes because I thought my blind spot was clear, and then the car behind me decided to change lanes as well. They nearly ran into me becuase they were morons and it was raining and they had a dark blue car with no lights on, so of course I thought "Argh, she's still after me!"

Hence, I presently have a rabbity nervous twitch and shadows under my eyes that make me look like a vampire. But one of the Nosferatu type ones from the 50's movies and not the sexy Anne Rice ones.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

From Kendo World Forum: "My Kendo Hero" post

This is a post from Lnguyen in reply to the thread "Who is your Kendo hero?" Teehee...

"My wife, I don't know how many dan she is but her Ki is so strong that I have to do what she told. Her chudan is so strong that I never control the center in the house. Her waza is so smooth that I fall into the trap to do house chore all the time. Her grip is so strong that I am always a broke swordman. Now you tell me who is my hero."

Follow your bliss

I like what Joseph Campbell has to say about how to live:

"If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. Wherever you are - if you are following your bliss, you are enjoying that refreshment, that life within you, all the time.


Now, I came to this idea of bliss because in Sanskrit, which is the great spiritual language of the world, there are three terms that represent the brink, the jumping-off place to the ocean of transcendence: sat-chit-ananda. The word "Sat" means being. "Chit" means consciousness. "Ananda" means bliss or rapture. I thought, "I don't know whether my consciousness is proper consciousness or not; I don't know whether what I know of my being is my proper being or not; but I do know where my rapture is. So let me hang on to rapture, and that will bring me both my consciousness and my being." I think it worked.


My general formula for my students is "Follow your bliss." Find where it is, and don't be afraid to follow it."

And from an interview by Bill Moyers:

BILL MOYERS: Do you ever have the sense of... being helped by hidden hands?

JOSEPH CAMPBELL: All the time. It is miraculous. I even have a superstition that has grown on me as a result of invisible hands coming all the time - namely, that if you do follow your bliss ... you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be.

I have to say I've found that this does happen: you find something you want to do, or feel you should be doing, you pursue it and suddenly doors start to open; you meet the right people, ones who can help you along or mentor you, opportunities and openings keep presenting themselves...

It's like giving a little push to a line of dominos and watching them fall smoothly into their pattern. You can't be apathetic and wait for things to happen, but a little bit of effort seems to cause a veritable avalanche of opportunities and new experiences to come your way.

Friday, May 06, 2005

The Day After Tomorrow

Have I ranted about this movie before? I probably have, but this is one of my all-time favourite rants, so let's play it again, Sam.

As far as I'm concerned, the only things that save this movie (for me) are Jake Gyllenhaal's abs (I did say, "for me"). I saw this movie in London with my cousins, Ching and Jack (who are girls but those are their nicknames), and Ching's husband Joe. What a great night. It provided us with at least 2 hours worth of ranting material afterwards.

- That stupid policeman. When French woman is frantically banging on the window of the taxi and screaming, I do believe that is international language for "For F*** sakes get me the hell out of this deathtrap!" Instead he stands there scratching his head and love interest girl (or Morona, as she shall henceforth be known) has to come over and translate. "She's saying she can't get out!" Good one, Morona! Maybe you can translate what my body language is saying right now. Just the hands now. Can you?

- And then, after the French woman is rescued, she has the temerity to turn to Morona (perhaps, like the audience, she's sussed out that Morona isn't the sharpest nail in the bucket) and squeal, "Oo-er, I left my passport in the taxi!" "I'll get it!" chirps Morona, despite the fact that a 2000 metre high tidal wave is heading right towards them.

Now, perhaps it's because I'm Chinese, and we are a rather pragmatic race, but at this stage I would have politely responded with some Hokkien obscenities about her private parts and then trampled my own grandmother to get into the building.

Under the circumstances, I think the French embassy would have no trouble believing the story about how you got caught in New York and a giant tidal wave washed away your luggage. That is, if there is a French embassy left. That is, if there is a France left.

- The scene where Morona has septicaemia and they're looking for a cure in one of the medical books. Stereotypical librarian woman is reading, "She'll need antibiotics, or ..." Pause. Y'all know it. Amputation. I can't wait! 

And then--dammit, Jake decides to go look for penicillin instead. I'm crushed. Luckily none of them are medically trained, because with septicaemia there's a certain point where recovery is well nigh impossible, and it looks like she's got to that stage.

(By "that stage", I mean the stage where I'd be sharpening my carving knives and singing, "Who wants the wishbone?" Hey, they might be holed up in the library for a while. I'm feeling hungry already. Waste not, want not.)

In fact, her recovery at the end is nothing short of miraculous. She must be related to the woman in Blade who, after having most of her blood drained by Blade (so he can go open a can of whoop-ass on Stephen Dorff), still has enough energy to have a full-on girl fight with Euro-trasherina. Where can I get me some of those supplements? They can't just be taking Berocca, unless it's special gamma-irradiated Berocca .

- The US government has to make a deal with Mexico so that US citizens can cross the border to survive. Is it just me, or on that map did they not outline HUGE expanses of land belonging to the United States that wouldn't be affected by the freeze? In terms of latitude, what's a mile here or there?

- Australia is not listed on the big scary map as a country affected by the big melt. Yay! We're number one! We're number one! Suck on that ... erm ... everyone else! We'll have no one to sell our exports to, but maybe we'll finally win the Winter Olympics! Without someone falling over in the Speed Skating!

- I don't know if it was just me, but after the movie it felt a lot colder than when we first went into the cinema. I was mentally tallying how many clothes I had in my suitcase, and if they were enough to keep me warm in a holocaust. Also how long Ching's book collection would last as kindling. And last but not least, who amongst my cousins was the meatiest-looking in case we ran short on food. Hehe, just kidding.

OK, maybe not. (Actually, I  have a nasty feeling that the meatiest one is ... me.)

"OK, we're all walking home!" said Joe when we got to the car. "God forbid we burn more fossil fuels!"

Tuesday, May 03, 2005


How I love this show. Just suspend scientific fact, common sense and principles of logic and enjoy the ride!

Things I've learnt from watching Alias:
- Don't want to piss off Sydney Bristow. I also want her toned triceps. Whenever I go to the gym I try to visualise them and work towards them. I try not to look in the mirror because I know I'll see a female Eric Weiss instead.
- You definitely don't want to piss off Jack Bristow.
- And the last thing you want to do is piss off Arvin Sloane.
- Vaughn is so very pretty. His range of facial expressions is rather limited but he's so ornamental that it doesn't matter.
- Milo Rambaldi annoys me. I'll bet he was teased at school.

Bad parents and my worm-like status

Oh the folly of parents naming their children. This is funny. I particularly like the following entries. Comments in red are the author's, not mine:


I was thinking of naming my son Toolio. Does anyone know the origin on that one?
---[Jane] DeSac

Toolio DeSac. Boy, can't think of any way that kid'll get picked on. That's one taunt-proof name there!

My husband and I were once told that we should "pray for a name." That in the Biblical times God named many people and still would today if asked. We had a little girl and were very surprised at the name that came to us when she was born and we have been very happy with it ever since. We are doing the same with our baby that's due in October.

Did the fortune cookie slip with the name come before or after the placenta?

These happy parents are hoping for a little brother for their baby, Default Marie.


I went to school with a girl with an unusual name. Hippie parents, meh.

I'm sitting here doing the footy tipping for the work (damn you Stu for making it sound easy) even though I couldn't give a rat's about the sport. Am contemplating my impending HUGE arse mortgage in suburbia and my lack of fame or svelteness. Also my kendo ineptitude. 

Mind you, I have some poppy seed cake waiting at home and an episode of Alias to watch. I'm also feeling quite chipper because I've unstrapped myself from that damn corset my mother forced on me for my stuffed back. (It was doing unspeakable things to my body.)

Monday, May 02, 2005

Oh the indignity

I had to stay home today. My back is stuffed, and so is my knee (both entirely my fault). I can feel the Reaper's skeletal hand trying to cop a feel already.

I love work. It is my quiet, little sanctuary.

But instead I got to stay in bed and lie on my back all day. Woohoo. Yes, I know there are people who would loooove to do that blah blah, but they've never had to live with my family.

No matter how old you are, there are always new ways they can torture you with love. Let's just say that my particular experience today involved camphor oil and a girdle-corset thingy.

No, I don't want to talk about it.

Saturday, April 30, 2005


Watched "Kinsey" at Janine's house. Yeurgh. Feel grossed out and slightly violated. Bugger procreation. The human race can damn well fend for itself. I'm going to go scrub myself down with steel wool and Jif.

Note to self, avoid eye contact with sweet looking white-haired old ladies. They harbour unspeakable seediness. Doh--must repress and then remove that image from my head Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.
Gyllenhaal's...abs... Damn. Can't do it.

Yes, mankind will be all the poorer for the lack of my superior genes.Maybe I should just clone myself. And while they've got the gizmo out, I'll ask if they can do a two-for-one deal and make me a new doggie as well.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Darth Vader's blog

Damon said to me today, "I've found a blog that's even better than yours!" And though it pains me, I have to agree (for the time being). Although Darth needs to run his blog through a spell-checker first, for goodness sakes! Obviously grammar is not one of the requisite skills for managing a Death Star. 

Hehe. Make sure you start reading from the first one (April 9th). Some of the comments people have left are more amusing than the actual blog. I particularly like the mugu* letter.

Mind you, he does have a lot more material to play with than I do. There's only so much you can milk out of living in the Perth 'burbs. Obviously I need to be saving up for a mortgage on a giant space fortress of death. And some henchmen! Gotta have the henchmen. But not bumbling ones that keep letting the good guys get away. Good henchmen!

"Would you like the prisoners delivered alive, milady?"
"Nah, just decapitate them."

Maybe the bumbling ones come cheap. I mean, they are expendable, after all.

And I'll have a pet panther with a spiky collar. And a big throne.


On a completely unrelated note, a hilarious e-mail went round to only the ladies yesterday. You know how some guys (horrible, horrible ones who are obviously destined for lifetimes of loneliness, rejection and beer guts) say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" There's now a companion saying amongst some women that substitutes "pig" and "a little sausage" in the pertinent places. Teeheehee.

*See if you don't know what a mugu is.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Revised dream dictionaries

See, the French and the English have institutes dedicated to updating dictionaries with new words, but unfortunately the stoned hippies that publish those handy guides to your dreams have no such dedication to their craft.

If I had a nightmare about a tamagotchi (yes, I know they're passe), I could look it up in the Oxford dictionary, but not in the local dream guide, which has "crimpers" and "gopher", but not "cocaine" or "gimp mask". Move with the times, people!

And to add insult to injury, their dubious publications tend to be printed on such incredibly coarse and cheap paper that they cannot even be put to use as serviettes, cigarette papers, or handy rollies for lines.

Let's put it this way, if I were trapped in a bush toilet and had to choose between the pages of the "Australian Dream Guide" or a passing hedgehog*, there would be a deliberate pause while I made decision. Knowing my luck, the hedgehog would probably escape during my ruminations, and I'd have to wait for more unsuspecting fauna to stroll by.

Anyway, let's say the other night one might have dreamt that one was in the canteen talking to a guy that one may have fancied (definitely no one that any of you know. No, definitely not. Doesn't even live within a 3000km radius. So drop it.) and in my ... I mean, one's dream he was totally gay! Stupid brain!

So I consult a dream guide that I find lying around at work, and look up "gay". Hmm, nothing. "Homosexual"? Nope. In desperation, I even try "camp". Zero.

What does it all mean? These things may be important! Get your act together people!

* Except we don't have hedgehogs in Australia. Damn!

Infamy! Wooo!

Hey! I'm mentioned in someone else's blog! Look under the "Tuesday Treat" for April 12, 2005. Thanks, Catheter Man!

Otaku cosplayers


I am concerned about these people. 

For those unfamiliar with the term, see the definition of "otaku" on Most otakus are "cosplayers" who like to dress up as cartoon characters from their favourite Japanese anime.

Unfortunately Japanese cartoon characters are drawn with impossibly long legs, tiny waists and huge ... assets. And the women are worse. (Ha! I kill myself!) So when mere mortals try to dress in the same costumes, the results are quite frightening.

I feel especially sorry for the poor "Cutey Honey" girl. (You'll see her as you go through the slides.) She looks very cold. Someone give that girl a jacket before her assets freeze!

My Virtual Model

This is a bit disappointing in that there aren't that many types to choose from. HOWEVER, you can have fun playing with it and trying to make really hideous people.

I particularly like my virtual man Gronk - 4ft5, 350 pounds, red corn-rows and a blonde soul-patch. Mm-MMM :)

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Boys, run away

It occurred to me today that I know a lot of nice guys who just don't know about the scary chicks that are out there.

Of course, there are a lot of lovely, normal females out there too. I work with many of them (and they're taken. Sorry.)

Anyway, here are some warning signs I've picked up on. If you meet people like this, set off at a brisk trot towards the hills. I mean it. Run, Forrest, RUN!

1. She really enjoys and laughs at the gory violent bits in movies.
2. She's still married to a street busker with a wooden monkey puppet.
2a. She's married. (Well, DUH.)
3. She's on meds for mental conditions (yes, plural) that she doesn't want to talk about.
4. She wears pantaloons.
5. She goes down to Freo whenever the sailors come to town.
6. She admires your fantasy knife collection.
7. She collects figurines of her totem animal.

I knew a girl who filled three of the above criteria at the same time, by the way. This list is by no means complete. I'll add some more when I think of them.

The Cyborg Name Generator

Your name as a cyborg acronym:

My cyborg name makes me sound like a porn bot! (And I had unwittingly chosen the "handyvac" avatar as well. Sigh.)

Seriously. This one's much better.

Homies drink Bacardi?

Is it just me or does Bacardi seem to be getting a lot of airplay as the homeboy drink of the choice? Maybe Bacardi sponsors them. Anyway, I can name two songs off the top of my head that mention it: Mariah Carey's "Get Right" and 50 cent's "In Da Club". I think Nelly and Robbie Williams refer to it as well in some of their lyrics.

Wish I had some right now. Actually, I wish I could drink (alcohol) without adverse effects), full stop. Mmm, liqueur chocolates. Once I had an entire bar of Lindt Cognac after a stressful day at the [large telecommunications company] IT Helpdesk. Sweet, sweet alcohol and chocolate are such good companions ... 

This one time (at band camp ... hehe, nah) this lady called me and said "That bar thing at the bottom of my screen keeps disappearing! Oh, look! There it is! Oooh, it's gone again! Wait! It's back!"

She had the Windows Toolbar on auto-hide. Sigh.

Anyway, if you google "Bacardi lyrics", even allowing for repeats, there are LOTS of search results. Just something that occurred to me driving home the other night... Perhaps I should have been watching the road instead, but people in comas can't talk, right? :)

I missed The Best of Queer Eye on Monday night. Man, am I bummed... Carson has the best one-liners. And he graduated with Honours in Fine Arts and Finance. And he was on the US Olympic Equestrian team. What a dude!

Friday, April 22, 2005

Plus ca change

... plus c'est la meme chose. (Yes, I know the accents are missing but I'm too lazy to figure out how to do them.)

The title of this book caught my eye while I was browsing eBay. Amazing how many variations people can concoct on the same theme. In this case it is how a marriage of convenience turns into red-hot blah-blah when he unleashes the blah in her ... something or other ... I'm getting sleepy ... Full marks for getting it into print though.

Selling for $4.92 at the moment with 0 bids.


*Romancing the Crown series*

Condition: Edgewear and Spinewear

A KINGDOM'S HONOUR depends on the actions of the man assigned to protect its princess...

When Princess Samira Kamal found herself pregnant and abandoned, she faced shaming her family and threatening the peace between Tamir and neighbouring Montebello. Then her mysterious bodyguard made a shocking proposal: 'Marry Me.' She'd thought Farid Nasir more machine than man—now Samira yearned to uncover the hidden depths of the man she would call husband...

For Farid, marrying the princess to save his country's honour was all in a day's work—until night came. Suddenly Farid realised his wife was a warm, desirable woman—and a threat to the walls of ice around his heart!

Things my mother told me #2: Suki's Story

I do not agree with the message behind this story, but it does make for entertaining reading. My mother has told this tale to me so many times that I repeat it word-for-word.

Mum brings it out when she is feeling particularly low re: her grandchildlessness state. (To which I usually reply: "But you work in a hospital--can't you just steal one from the nursery?")

Hem-hem. I choose to start the story ... now.

Suki was a nurse who worked in the general hospital. Now, she wasn't very pretty, but she was fair and slim. [an9ie: These are my mother's exact words. Don't shoot the messenger. Especially when the messenger is not the slimmest person around either.] She also had some weird spinal thing going on, I can't remember the medical term; it wasn't scoliosis, and it wasn't very noticeable, but it was there, nonetheless.

Anyway, Suki was pretty full of herself, having just come back from nursing college in the UK. There was this one doctor, Dr. Tan, who was crazy about her and constantly pursued her. He would follow her around the hospital and get his friends to invite her to parties so he could "bump" into her. But Suki was too proud and kept rejecting him. [an9ie: At this point, I always feel like yelling, "Get a spine, Dr. Tan!" Don't waste the pretty!]

And then, one day Suki got a blood clot in her brain, which led to a mild stroke, which caused partial paralysis on one side of her body. She had to stay in hospital for a long time, and she got fat, and after a while even Dr. Tan stopped visiting her and married some other nurse. I believe this other nurse may even have been Suki's best friend. [an9ie: Don't let that eligible doctor go to waste!]

Luckily, Suki has a rich family who can support her financially, because she can't work as a nurse any more. And nobody wants to marry her anyway. And she will never supply her parents with grandchildren *pointed glare at audience* [an9ie: That would be me.] The end.

The moral of this story is: settle for a Dr. Tan if he comes your way. You may not love him. He may not be your soulmate. But take what you can get while you're young. Good men are hard to find.



There should be no settling. The world is a huge place. There are plenty of people out there, decent or otherwise.

Who knows? Suki may have married Dr. Tan and then found out that he was a cross-dressing wife-beater. Or worse (OK, not worse, but not great), she may have married him, had the big house in suburbia, the 2.3 kids, and then found herself trapped in a loveless dull marriage. Don't do it.

Aim high. We all deserve the best.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Seppuku - A Practical Guide

Speaking of seppuku (Japanese ritual suicide - I mentioned it in the "TV" blog from yesterday), I found this gem on the Net.

F3ll0wsh1p of teh R1ng (geeks only)

This owns! I'm not sure where this originated, but type in "F3ll0wsh1p of teh R1ng" into any browser and you'll find it. There's one out for The Two Towers somewhere as well.

Prerequisites: Primer course in l33t required, much geekiness

[At Bilbo's 111th Birthday]
Merry: "Omg, I pwn"
Pippin: "Sif, I pwn"
**Rocket goes off
Gandalf: "Pwned!"

Bilbo: "This = shiz, bai foos"
Bilbo has left the server
Frodo: "***!?"

[later, in Bag End]
Gandalf: "Give teh ringz0r to Frodo"
Bilbo: "Sif! It r precious!"
Gandalf: "STFU NOOB!!!"
Bilbo: "ok"
Gandalf has logged on as admin
Bilbo has been kicked from The Shire

Gandalf: "Show me teh ring, foo!"
**Gandalf rides out, does some research, comes back
Gandalf: "OMGZ, it R teh ring!"
Frodo: "***?"
Gandalf has logged on as admin
Frodo has been kicked from The Shire
Sam has been kicked from The Shire

[At Isengard]
Gandalf: "sup dawg, i r g4nd4lf da gr3y!"
Saruman: "Foo! U R teh noob!"
Gandalf: "***?!"
Saruman: "Sauron pwns joo!"
Gandalf: "Sif, I R leet"
**Sarumon beats the **** out of Gandalf
Saruman: "Pwned!"

[on the road to Bree]
Merry: "look foos, shrooms!"
Pippin: "Woot! Shrooms!"
Frodo: "Ph34r!"
Sam: "Shrooms!"
Frodo: "PH34R!1!1"
**black rider stops, sniffs, goes past
Frodo: "OMG, packetloss!"

[Bree, in the Inn of the Prancing Pony]
**Frodo is drinking and dancing on a table, then slips
Frodo has left the server
Frodo has connected to the server
Frodo: "OMGz, dc'd"
Aragorn: "OMG, noobz"

[at Weathertop]
Merry: "Mmm, shrooms!"
Frodo: "Foos! Ph34r teh haxorz"

**the black riders attack
Merry: "OMG!!!"
Sam: "O.M.G!!!11"
Pippin: "***"
Frodo has left the server
**head nazgul stabs Frodo's ghost
Frodo has connected to the server
Frodo: "***... hax!"
**Aragorn lraps into the fray with a flaming brand
Aragorn: "PH34r!!!!!!"
Merry: "LOLOL flamed! "

[on the road to Rivendell]
Aragorn: "ZOMG!Arwen!"
**Arwen rides up
Aragorn: "A/S/L? Wanna net secks?"
Arwen: "Sif! *** is up with Frodo?"
Sam: "teh leet Hax0r "
Arwen: "Firewall?"

**Arwen rides off with Frodo, the nazgul give chase. Arwen crosses the ford at Rivendell.
Arwen: "PH34R!! My dad pwns urs!"
**nazgul start to cross
Arwen: "LOLOLOLO noobs!!1!"
**the ford rises up and washes the nazgul away
Warning: Connection Problems Detected
nazgul has disconnected
nazgul has disconnected
nazgul has disconnected
nazgul has disconnected
nazgul has disconnected
nazgul has disconnected
nazgul has disconnected
Arwen: "Pwnt"

[at the Council of Elrond]
Gimli: "dwarves pwn!"
Legolas: "Sif, Elves pwn!"
Boromir: "OLOLOL noobs, men pwn!"
Elrond: "STFU tards!!1!"
**Frodo puts the ring on the plinth
Gimili: "Sif ring pwns all!"
**Gimli swings his axe at it, which shatters
Elrond: "**sigh, noob"

[Frodo meets up with Bilbo]
Bilbo: "OLOL, me = 10th level thief!"
Frodo: "OMG, u r teh pwn!"
Bilbo: "Do u still have teh ringz0r?"
**Frodo shows Bilbo the One Ring
Bilbo: "OMG u tard, I want to TK you!"
Frodo: "sif!"
Bilbo: "ph34r my mithril"

[The Fellowship leaves Rivendell]
**Gandalf leads the fellowship through the mountains
Legolas: "ZOMG, leet gfx!"
Gimli: "I R dropping frames! FFS"
**There's an avalanche which threatens to knock them off the shelf
Gimli: "Gandalf, teh draw distance is too far!1!!1"
Gandalf: "**Sigh. Moria?"
Gimli votes to change map to Moria
Votes 4 of 4 required
Legolas: "lolol Gimli, time to upgrade!"

[The fellowship approaches the gates of Moria]
Gandalf: "FFS, its too hard! Anyone got a walkthrough?"
**The gates of Mordor open, but the Guardian attacks!
Frodo: "OMG! ph34r!"
Boromir: "GL HF"
Aragorn [broadsword] guardian
Legolas [arrow] guardian
Gandalf: "gg"

[The fellowship enters the mines of Moria]
Gimli: "OMG!!!! PWNED!"

**After travelling some time in the dark the Fellowship come to a chamber with a large well
Gandalf: "teh bookz0r has some clues!"
**Merry knocks a skeleton in armour down the well
Gandalf: "OMG! noob!"
Merry: "d'oh"
**The fellowship hears the orc drums
Boromir: "***?"
Aragorn: "***?"
Frodo: "..."
Gandalf: "Oh ffs >.<"
**the fellowhip shores up the doors as the orcs come
Boromir: "TEAMS FFS!"
Aragorn [broadsword] orc
Gimli [axe] orc
Legolas [arrow] orc
Aragorn [broadsword] orc
Aragorn [broadsword] orc
Boromir [broadsword] orc
Gimli [axe] orc
Gimli [axe] orc
orc: "OMG! h4x!"
Gimli: "pwned"!
Legolas [arrow] orc
Legolas [arrow] orc
Legolas: "lol!!"
Boromir [broadsword] orc
Gimli [axe] orc
Gimli: "Foos!"
Legolas [arrow] orc
orc: "ffs, wallhax!"
**The cavetroll enters the chambers destroying the doors
Gandalf: "Oh ffs!"
Boromir: "Omg, its teh boss!"
Aragorn: "Sif noob, we're not at teh end yet!"
**Cavetroll slams Boromir and Aragorn out of the way, and then skewers Frodo
Sam: "OMG!"
Gandalf: "OMG!"
Aragorn: "omg, pwn!"
**Legolas jumps on the cavetroll and shoots arrows down into its head
Legolas [arrow] cavetroll
Ork: "OMG! PWNED!"
Gimli: "LOLOOLOL! noobs"
**The fellowship then runs through Moria, chased the whole way by a horde of orcs
Boromir: "FFS! Teams, foos!"
**A flaming shadow starts to follow them, and the orcs withdraw
Aragorn: "Now THIS is teh boss!"
Gandalf: "OMG!"
**The fellowship take to long flights of stairs that are starting to crumble and fall. Orcs shoot at them with arrows.
Legolas: "LOL, noobs. Chex0r this out!1!"
Legolas [arrow] orc
Legolas [arrow] orc
orc: "AIMBOT!"
orc: "turn it off!"
Legolas: "lolol!"
**The fellowship crosses a bridge, Gandalf stops to confront the balrog
Gandalf: "joo shall not pass!"
Balrog: "***?"
Balrog: "Sif, noob"
**Gandalf strikes the bridge with his staff, cracking it and causing it to break under the Balrog's weight
Balrog: "ZOMG! PWNED!"
Frodo: "OMG! Gandalf!"
**The Balrog falls and in a last act of defiance strikes out with its whip, entangling Gandalf
Gandalf: "D'oh"
Frodo: "OMG, joo foo!"
Gandalf: "fly u foos, fly!"
**Gandalf lets go and follows the Balrog into the crevass
Gandalf has left the server
Balrog has disconnected

[After escaping Moria the fellowship finds itself in Loth Lorien]
**The fellowship rests, and in the night Frodo speaks with Galadriel
Galadriel: "For a noob, u r teh leet!"
Frodo: "Sif. I don't want teh ringz0r. Do u want teh ringz0r?"
Galadriel: "******! SIF I want teh ringz0r. I have enough h4x of my own!1"

[The fellowship leaves Loth Lorien and sets out via river]
Saurman: "ph34r my army of uruk hai! Go outz0r, find teh hobbitz and pwnz0r them!"
uruk hai: "leet!"

[stopping at the banks of the river, the Fellowship sets up camp]
**Frodo goes off looking for firewood, Boromir follows and confronts him
Boromir: "Gimmie teh ringz0r so ** hax can fight teh boss!"
Frodo: "Sif, foo. Punkbuster will pwn joo!"
Boromir: "Naw, we play on non-pb servers"
Frodo: "STFU noob"
Frodo has left the server
Boromir: "***! FRODO! Bring teh ringz0r back, faghat!"

**A group of Uruk Hai encounter Boromir
Boromir: "OH FFS, TEAMS!!"
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Uruk Hai [arrow] Boromir
Boromir: "****ing campers"
**Aragorn comes across the battle
Aragorn: "Boromir joo noob! ***!"
Uruk Hai: "Hah, pwn!"
Aragorn [broadsword] Uruk Hai
Aragorn: "I bring joo teh pwn!"
**Aragorn goes to Boromir
Boromir: "Damn lag!"
Warning: Connection problems detected
Boromir has disconnected
Aragorn: "FFS!"

[Frodo returns to the bank of the river where he gets into a boat. Sam 'sees' him]
Sam: "Frodo! ***! Invisibility h4x!"
Frodo has connected to the server
Frodo: "Sam, STFU and FOAD!"
Sam: "Sif!"
Frodo: "Oh, ffs n00b!"


Wednesday, April 20, 2005


For some reason, whenever I end up watching TV with my Mum and brother, reality shows seem to be on. Whether this is a testament to the volume of RTV out there, or just coincidence, I'm not sure.

(Actually I have a sneaking suspicion that, despite saying she's too busy and has no time to watch TV, it's actually my mother's secret vice. It's funny how she "happens" to turn the TV on just as a reality show starts.)

We're watching "For Love or Money", where the guy has to choose between the "girl of his dreams" and $1,000,000. The intro comes on and we're already yelling "Take the money! TAKE THE MONEY!"

I can't believe they're even deliberating the issue. Look, random dude, a) you do not meet your soulmate on a TV show, b) $1,000,000 can get you a lot of classy ass, c) the sleazy host might say, "You'll never see her again if you take the money," but how can he guarantee that? Does the FBI add them to the Federal Witness Relocation Program? Do they make the woman commit seppuku if the guy doesn't pick her? Is there a plastic surgeon with a Nigerian passport waiting in the dressing room? Come ooooon. If he likes her that much, he can use $20,000 of the prize money to hire a kick-arse P.I. to look for her. MORONS!

I become emotionally invested in these shows rather quickly. I don't know if you can tell.

The other night we were watching The Bachelor. Sometimes I watch it and think, hmm, so you've been single for a while eh? I wonder why ... not.

In the meantime, my Mum has remarked, "Haha! Look at his droopy left eye and large teeth!" Hmm, I think she was exaggerating about the eye, but ye gods he does have large teeth, and they've had the heck whitened out of them. It's like looking at Chiclets on an Omnimax screen.

Poor guy.

I think her favourite is The Apprentice, which I haven't watched much, except when I feel like gazing at Donald Trump's comb-over. The man is that rich, you'd think he'd be able to afford to have someone with similar hair killed discreetly and get a fresh scalp implant every six months.

Although this paints me as a complete peasant, I must say I was addicted to the first American series of Temptation Island. The blonde girl with the pigtails who made her boyfriend cry when he saw the video of her eating fruit off another man's erogenous zones? Pure gold.

Proms in the 'hood

Mmm, classy...

Is it just me or do all the guys look like P. Diddy?

Actual prom photos

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

How to... self-mummify

This is an excerpt from

How to be a self-made mummy

Scientific study of the [Buddhist mummies of Japan] and the process that created them only began in the early 1960's. It was generally expected that the mummies studied would show signs of having been mummified after death by other priests, in much the way Egyptian mummies -- and almost all other mummies on Earth -- have been created. The first step in that process is the removal of the internal organs, because the bacteria in these begin the process of decomposition within hours of death; with these removed, it is relatively easy to prepare, dry, and preserve the remainder of the body. But x-rays discounted this expectation... the internal organs were intact, which meant that mummification had been accomplished in some new way that scientists had not yet encountered. So the process itself was next investigated.

The actual practice was first pioneered by a priest named Kuukai over 1000 years ago at the temple complex of Mount Koya, in Wakayama prefecture. Kuukai was founder of the Shingon sect of Buddhism, which is the sect that came up with the idea of enlightenment through physical punishment. There were three steps in the process of self-mummification that Kuukai proposed, and the full process took upwards of ten years to lead to a successful mummification.

The first step is a change of diet. The priest was only allowed to eat nuts and seeds that could be found in the forests surrounding his temple; this diet had to be stuck to for a 1000 day period, a little under three years. During this time, the priest was to continue to subject himself to all sorts of physical hardship in his daily training. The results were that the body fat of the priest was reduced to nearly nothing, thus removing a section of the body that easily decomposes after death.

In the second stage, the diet became more restrictive. The priest was now only allowed to eat a small amount of bark and roots from pine trees. This had to be endured for another 1000 day period, by the end of which the priest looked like a living skeleton. This also decreased the overall moisture contained in the body; and the less fluid left in the body, the easier to preserve it.

Towards the end of this 1000 day period, the priest also had to start to drink a special tea made from the sap of the urushi tree. This sap is used to make laquer for bowls and furniture; but it is also very poisonous for most people. Drinking this tea induced vomenting, sweating, and urination, further reducing the fluid content of the priest's body. But even more importantly, the build up of the poison in the priest's body would kill any maggots or insects that tried to eat the priest's remains after death, thus protecting it from yet another source of decay.

The last step of the process was to be entombed alive in a stone room just big enough for a man to sit lotus style in for a final 1000 day period. As long as the priest could ring a bell each day a tube remained in place to supply air; but when the bell finally stopped, the tube was removed and the tomb was sealed.
When the tomb was finally opened, the results would be known. Some few would be fully mummified, and immediately be raised to the rank of Buddha; but most just rotted and, while respected for their incredible endurance, were not considered to be Buddhas. These were simply sealed back into their tombs. But why did some mummify and some not? This is the tricky part of the whole process.

It is not clear if this is part of the process as set down by Kuukai, but in Yamagata is a sacred spring. This spring is on a mountain called Yudono, which is in fact the third sacred mountain of the three I visited in 1998. Many of the priests in the area considered both the water and the mineral deposits from this spring to have medicinal value, and may have injested one or both previous to their entombment. An analysis of the spring water and deposits revealed that they contain enough arsenic to kill a human being! Arsenic does not get eliminated from the body, so it remains after death... and it is toxic to bacteria and other micro-organisms, so it eliminated the bacteria that started the decompostion of the body.

As you can see, the process of self-mummification was a long and extremely painful process that required a mastery of self-control and denial of physical sensation. The self-made mummies of Japan are people who have earned the respect now shown to them, as they exemplify the teachings of the Shingon sect of Japanese Buddhism.

Sunday, April 17, 2005


Somehow, at 4.30 last night/this morning, I managed to delude myself into thinking that I'd be able to get up at 8am for a 10:00 walk in the hills.

My alarm goes off.

Brain: "Yay, let's go for a bush-walk!"

Body: "You moron!"

I hit the snooze button. I then proceed to snooze for about two and a half hours. At 10:14 I rouse briefly (brain has humbly agreed with body that we are rather wasted and movement is a very bad idea) and decide to SMS Damon to tell him I'm not coming. Twelve minutes later I finally manage to type in an almost coherent two line message.

At 11:30 I wake up feeling much better and decide to rouse G (little bro') so that he can come to Canning Vale markets with me and carry the new carpet I'm going to buy.

Damn, no cream sisal carpet available. Have to wait till next week. Buy peanut M&Ms instead.

Later on in the afternoon, I totally gross my brother out by telling him about [something I can't mention here--yes, it is that gross]. He vows never to mingle his washing with anyone else's ever again. Hee. My work here is done.

After dinner, I'm eating a chive pancake and reading a purloined copy of Woolworth's Good Taste magazine (March 2005 issue) when I stumble across an article about Jessica Yuille--my Science teacher from Year 9 in Bathurst. She was a total hippie and very nice, which of course means that we took advantage of her all the time.

Anyway, she's living in one of those environmentally friendly houses in the Blue Mountains where the patio is made out of recycled drink bottles, the huge stove in the backyard uses 34 hours of the sun's heat to cook 2 cookies, and milk is stored in a "cold cupboard" with strategic vents instead of a fridge.

Oh well, kudos to her for trying to save the Earth, even though we're all going to live on Mars in a couple of decades because we've left this planet a withered husk. It will give us somewhere to put all the hippies.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Three parties in one night! SCOOOOORE!

Hehe, I love parties.

Party #1: Ryan's party-for-the-sake-of-having-a-party party. (I think I've mentioned the word "party" in there too many times. Oh well...)
Theme: Relaxed elegance (Damn! And I had my teenage mom skank-wear all ready to go!)
- Everyone there belonged to a book club. What am I doing with my life?
- Ryan's goat cheese filo pastries.
- Ryan's home-made mini-pizzas.
- Ryan's witty repartee and this girl with crazy eyes that I hit it off with right away. Bitch factor set to: STUN. Woooo! 

Party #2: Anne Marie's 21st and Tribute to Friends
- AmM singing "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge as a duet with Donna.
- AmM singing a song she wrote for her mother and not being able to finish it because she kept bursting into tears ... awww.
- the catfight that broke out in the carpark when one well-covered lady asked another well-endowed lady if she was pregnant. (I wasn't there for it but Andrew told me about it.)
- Meeting Graham there and getting invited to another party! Yay!

In between I had to rush home to get changed out of "Relaxed Elegance". Mum goes "Oh, you're home early!"
Me: "Can't talk! Must find brightest, most garish clothing and go to another party! Hey, do electric blue and bright green go together? No? Eeeeeexcellent..."

Party #3: Kylie's 24th
Theme: Hi5
Damn! I missed Pass the Parcel. Apparently a boy had to kiss another boy. But still made it in time for Musical Statues, Musical Bob and the Pinata.
- Definitely the pinata. Kendo skills translated well, but for sheer viciousness there's no beating Donna. Not a person you want to corner in a dark alley. I gave an involuntary kiai. Oops. Habit. I hope the neighbours didn't complain.
- Blowing bubbles. I like bubbles.
- Playdoh.
- Kylie's cupcakes. And Kylie's cookies. Yum.
- Evading RaZeR's camera. HAH! No embarrassing photos this time! What a coup!

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Photoshop rocks!

Amazing what you can do with Photoshop and airbrushing. These guys would make a fortune hiring out their services for wedding albums.

Poor FHM readers, it's not like they buy it for the articles ... 

FHM May 2005 Cover: Before and After

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Bratz dolls

Flipping through the latest Target catalogue (I like catalogues. I find them soothing) and ye gods, these horrible Bratz dolls are everywhere, with their bedroom eyes and slutty come-hither bee-stung lips.

Apparently there's a talking one available that says things like "Let's go out and meet boys!"

I wouldn't be surprised if the next batch of talking Bratz have gems like:

"Oh Mom, I need to go on the Pill for my skin." (Yeah, pull the other one kiddo. Why don't you just get pregnant instead? My dermatologist says that's great for the complexion. And at least it's honest. I mean, really, in Year 9 I was amazed at the number of girls in my year who were on the Pill for their "skin", or "irregular periods" a.k.a. David from Geography class. It's a wonder the town didn't have an epidemic of hermaphrodite sheep with really small genitals from all the hormones recycled into the water supply.)

"University degrees are for ugly girls!"

"Let's go Brazilian so boys will like us!"

OK, maybe that last one was a little far-fetched.

They are like ho' templates for little girls. Why are mothers buying these things for their daughters? I presume these are the same mothers who let their daughters leave the house looking like that. (You know what that means, do I have to spell it out? I know the guys love it, but can you spell J-A-I-L-B-A-I-T? Let's just say that with school holidays upon us, the shopping centres will be full of girls who look like they've been to a mass fluffer convention. "The Porn Recruitment Van's in town, everyone! Let's go audition!")

Sunday, April 10, 2005

Swimming pool, how I loathe thee

This blog is starting to get mother-intensive, but I've decided to move back home in order to save money for a) future property investment, b) world domination, c) kendo, d) Nicky-visiting trips interstate, so it's inevitable. Get used to it.

The pool at my parents' house has been the bane of my life for the past 10 years. It is a ravenous parasite, never satisfied with the monstrous quantities of acid and buffer taht we pour into it, even when you put that stuff in that's supposed to prevent the other stuff from evaporating. (I'm having an Oriental blonde moment and can't remember the name. It's white powdery stuff that you have to put it in a sock so it disperses slowly. Amortiser? Sodomiser? Volumiser? Hang on, that's a L'Oreal hair product. Whatever. That white stuff that goes in a sock.)

Anyway, the pool's been acting up again, so Mum and I went out to investigate the skimmer basket. The menfolk had somehow mysteriously disappeared just when we decided to do this.

One day that pool will be filled up or the house sold, and Mum and I will crack open the Bolly and have a huge party. The only thing it's good for is a) swallowing money, b) keeping briefly cool on those six really hot days in summer, c) becoming a potential future silo for hoarding petrol when the prices go past $1.15 a litre*, and d) becoming a potential future hidden burial area for useless mysteriously disappearing menfolk.

I was about to plunge my arm into the freezing water to remove the basket (yeah, I get all the good jobs) when Mum goes "*Squeal!*" and points at the water. I jump back. "What? What?" She keeps pointing at the basket. I peer in and see a small marinated rodent. I give a loud squeal myself and nearly fall into the pool.

"Hold on, I'll get a plastic bag," says Mum and goes back into the house. I get a stick and fish mousie from the water. I stand there, holding it out at arm's length, pondering how its little ribs look remarkably like fish bones and how all meat looks like chicken and why the heck is my mother taking such a long time to get a plastic bag out of a drawer? The mouse is getting heavy and I'm resisting the urge to take a closer look. Thank god I'm wearing my blindie glasses (useless for driving but good for close work).

"Why don't you just throw it over the fence into the laneway?" says a disembodied voice from the study window (my brother Glen).

So that's what I did. Exciting stuff, eh?

* Yes, I know this sounds dangerous and foolhardy, but we are talking about people related to Singaporeans, who, during the fuel price boom in the late 90s, did the following: in a bid to make an easy $100, some enterprising souls converted their car boots to a second petrol tank, drove across the border to Malaysia, filled the tanks up, and then drove their uneasy cargo back across the border to sell to cash-strapped Singaporeans. That's why they now check that people driving across to Malaysia for the weekend have full fuel tanks. Sad, eh?**

** I'm also certain that these are the same people who prompted the S'pore government's health department to issue a warning that it was UNSAFE to try and make your own contact lens saline solution from tap water and table salt.