08 December, 2008

Golden nerd alert!

You know you've been watching too much Mysterious Cities of Gold when you start to think Mendoza (left) is pretty hot. C'mon, you have to admit there's something there. You should see him doing dashing things with his blue cape on.

So I finished watching the series today, having received the DVD boxed set for my birthday (it was a long road - not only was my birthday in May, I had to tell my friend what to buy, where to get it and print out a 40% off voucher for her as an incentive...). It was worth the trip down memory lane. I feel like I should do a thesis or something, I'm so fanatic about the series right now.

One particular theme I'm caught up in is the fact that the three children all talk about missing their fathers (there's no mention of anyone's mother except when Esteban learns that his mother dies because of an apparent curse). Tao knows his father has died, Zia spends a large part of the series searching for her father, a priest, and finds him in a village near the end of their journey, just before he dies. Esteban's reasons for following Mendoza to the New World is the possibility that his father may still be alive. But in a turn of dramatic irony, Esteban meets his father, high priest of the Mysterious Cities of Gold, but does not realise it. It is Mendoza who figures out the true relationship between the high priest and the child of the sun. And then the priest dies while saving the world from destruction without Esteban ever knowing his true identity.

Anyway, I am interested in the ongoing notion of fatherhood in the series because much of it gets moved along by various wise men and a lot of the motivation (for the children) for finding the Mysterious Cities of Gold comes from their respective fathers' legacies, rather than the promise of riches. In an interesting twist, Mendoza morphs from a greedy Spaniard to a father figure as the adventure wears on. In the beginning he is the children's main protector because he realises how valuable they are as tools to discover the city, but towards the end he admits to Sancho and Pedro (his greedy sidekicks) that he has grown fond of them and eschews a chance to set off for the city at the earliest possibility to fight on their behalf.

But Mendoza never becomes like a father in the truest sense. He protects and defends them, and eventually earns their trust and respect, but they never love him as a father and vice versa. The relationship they build during their adventures together is like that of equals in a team.

It is further of interest to note that although Mendoza is intelligent, brave and shows leadership, he is not the leader (Esteban fulfils this role), nor the 'vizier' (which is Tao). Neither does he show any particular friendship toward Sancho and Pedro compared with how they treat each other and how the children treat each other. Rather, he is the maverick, an individual who allows himself to get too close to the trinity and embroiled in their affairs.

Anyway, enough rumination on Mendoza as father figure. I found out by watching one of the DVD extras - an interview with the voice actors for Mendoza, Esteban, Tao and Zia - that the guy who did the voice of Mendoza got the part by accident. Howard Ryshpan was actually the director of the English version and they were about to send the tapes to France so the producers could pick the voices they wanted. One of Ryshpan's colleagues discovered they were short a Mendoza (they only had three Mendozas for the four tapes) and as it was 2am in the morning, Ryshpan just laid down a track and they made their recommendations for one of the other three actors to take the part. But the producers chose Ryshpan.

Another funny thing I found out was that the voice actors were sourced from Canada because the series was to be dubbed for both the American and UK markets and the Americans couldn't understand Brit accents and the Brits didn't like heavy American accents. Considering the voices that ended up on tape, they did a really good job picking quite neutral accents. They don't even sound Canadian.

Over the next couple of weeks I'll make my way through all the DVD extras. It has been more than 20 years, but it was worth the wait!

01 December, 2008

The Memory Box

It was baking hot outside, just like those other sticky summer days gone by that I remember from my childhood. My memories of school, of holidays, of riding around the house on my pink Malvern Star with the spokey-dokes, were all blooming with the smell of cut grass, dusty heat, then the sharp sting of rain on concrete from the summer storms.

Inside the house it was cool and quiet. My parents would be back in just over a week, returning from their three-month overseas jaunt where they saw their first grandchild grow up just a little. It must be exciting to see someone grow so quickly. In the time since they've been gone, I doubt I've grown as a person very much at all.

There used to be cardboard boxes filled with photograph albums on the top shelf in my parents' walk-in wardrobe. Now they're kept in a trundle box on the floor behind my mother's collection of designer handbags. Much manoeuvring and the box trundles free, out into the open where I can examine it more closely. It's a sizeable box, but it contains the entire collection of my family's life in pictures. Considering that, it seems diminutive.

The top layer depresses me. They are all small albums, one photo to a sleeve, from pre-digital Malaysian photo shops filled with photo after photo of people in black at various funerals I never attended. My grandfather, my aunt, my uncle, my cousin... I'm not sufficiently intrigued to follow that morbid path, so I put those books aside.

The next layer looks newer and yields albums with flip up sleeves that lie like fallen dominoes on each other. I rush through time, trying to guess my age. I'm always eight, until I find a picture of myself on my seventh birthday. But seven is too odd a number to guess.

There are half-recalled aunties and uncles - friends of my parents - at backyard parties, day trips to anonymous towns and all our birthdays, bad fashion, teased hair and big earrings.

The books get older as the box goes deeper. Some creak open, having not seen light for over a decade. These albums are inevitably brown and dusty-looking. The pictures are sepia-toned and the pages of the album fold out like shutters to reveal others behind them. These are the really early years. There's my mother in her training nurse outfit with some girls I don't recognise. There she is again with Nanny, her house mother in Australia, a lady who has always been ancient in my time. In this one she's wearing a crocheted dress and looks groovy. And there she is at the seaside with a younger version of my brother, posing in a purple bikini.

I jump back a bit in time for the next album. My brother, over six years my senior, being cradled, newly born. And suddenly he's a toddler playing in English snow with my dad. I put the collection down in favour of another, which I know contains traces of me. In a series of photos I am grumpy and serious while my mother, her mother, and my brother wear the grins for me. Then suddenly there's a break in the cloudy photos, a gurgle escapes my lips when I am nine weeks. Maybe I'm cute after all?

Then there's the hi-fi baby pose, losing myself in the sound. What am I listening to? Maybe it's The Muppet Show on record. Or maybe it's a lullaby, a ploy to get me to sleep.

Two and a half years later my sister comes along with her doll face and deep eyes. We're photographically inseparable as I lead her unsteady feet across the vinyl floor in our old kitchen, make her laugh uproariously by blowing a party horn, perch beside her in front of the camel enclosure at Taronga Zoo. We'd already seen the giant pandas that day, just she, my dad and me.

So there it is, a memory box full of images from my family life that are as clear in my mind as the translucent plastic of the trundle box. I don't know what I thought I would find when I opened this box - myself? I borrow some photos, pulling them free of their crusty plastic sleeves, just to try and remember what it was like when I was eight. Seven.

16 November, 2008

Newsletter Digest

I recently voted for a new arts and culture award. To be eligible for any of the prizes on offer, you had to allow the two award sponsors to send you their weekly e-newsletters. I was already a member of one and, to be honest, I already subscribe to so many arts, music, literary, events, film and enviro newsletters that I just couldn't bear signing up for another, so turns out I'm not eligible for a prize.

All you IT prograsmming geeks out there: where is a program where you can send all your newsletters and it'll sort it into a nice little digest (weekly, fortnightly or monthly as required) with topic areas and chronological news and a calendar that shows you when stuff is on or when you have to do something to be eligible for something?

All I want is one email a week that contains everything I sign up for, complete with all the benefits like discounts and giveaways etc but without the cloggy inbox drawback.

Am I asking too much?

15 November, 2008

Omens of the New

Some perfect change is afoot, I know it. Lately I have been harvesting omens of the new.

The beginning is symbolised in:
The perfectly boiled egg I cooked for dinner.
The dying carrot leaves I cut, which brought new growth.
The intense nostalgia that has permeated my life for the last week, which has suddenly given way to the present, and is slowly opening a portal into the future.

09 November, 2008

SO EXCITED

Leonard Cohen coming to Sydney in January!

30 October, 2008

Diet Coke is bad

I've just been analysing a few consumer items for a 'Green Day' I'm hosting at work. I've come to the conclusion that a can of Diet Coke from a vending machine is probably the worst thing you could buy (other than a uranium mine, perhaps).

Firstly, there are more environmentally-friendly beverage alternatives, so there isn't a true need to buy it.

Secondly, most of a can of Coke is actually marketing and packaging and energy consumed to get it to you.
- Aluminium for the can in particular has a high energy consumption.
- A vending machine uses a lot of energy to keep the product cool and the machine lit for marketing purposes.
- Fake sugar means you're keeping some chemical lab operating somewhere.
- It takes about three litres of water to make a litre of Coke.

Thirdly, the can, although recyclable, is not likely to be recycled if purchased at a vending machine due to the lack of recycling facilities in those types of locations (train stations etc).

And all you get is brown fizzy water that tastes gross.

Why do people drink that stuff?

Things I find funny

Entries are now being accepted for the 2009 Public Domain Awards, Australia's pre-eminent awards for the innovative use of concrete to enhance the urban landscape.

The Institute of Public Administration Australia (IPAA) Queensland is the peak professional body for people passionate about making a difference through public administration.

Alan Kohler: "Before the mid-30s, all cyclical economic downturns were called depressions, which is why the big one in 1930-33 was called the Great Depression: all the others were just common or garden variety depressions."

Please find attached Airport Doors' press release celebrating their 50th anniversary. As you'll see some of Australia's iconic doors have been created by them.

Jen Bishop: "Do all the comments about your hair annoy you?"
Donald Trump: "Not at all."

"As Haldeman-Julius readily found out, the public also liked titillation. Guy de Maupassant's The Tallow Ball sold three times better when entitled A French Prostitute's Sacrifice, and sales of Gautier's Fleece of Gold jumped from six thousand to fifty thousand when it was retitled The Quest for a Blonde Mistress."
- 'The Henry Ford of Literature' by Rolf Potts in The Believer magazine (Issue #56: September 08)

18 October, 2008

The Muppet Show Ep 38 (TV show)

Read a summary of this episode at Muppet Central.

When I want a little time out, I sit down and watch DVDs of The Muppet Show. I remember enjoying the show as a kid but I don't actually remember any of the shows so I've coerced these season DVDs out of my mum as Christmas gifts for the past couple of years (and I hear season 3 is out now, so that's Christmas 2008 sorted).

Although the jokes are often self-consciously corny, I like the show, the silliness and the oblique digs at conservatism.

But the reason this episode is super special is because it features Elton John, who was a big superstar at the time (and is still pretty newsworthy today) in a number of muppet-ational outfits. Often, the guests stars are well-known in the US, but I would struggle to name those I actually recognise apart from Julie Andrews and Bernadette Peters, both musical stars, and Peter Sellers.

While not my favourite artist, Elton ranks pretty highly on my list of musical favourites and this episode doesn't disappoint, with three big numbers: Crocodile Rock, Bennie and the Jets and Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road (which I usually attempt to sing at karaoke).



However, it isn't just Elton that makes the show appealing. The support skits are actually a lot funnier than previous shows, particularly the running gag with the Swedish chef and the chicken, which bleeds into the Pigs in Space sketch (when "two alien life forms" are detected on the ship) and continues backstage, front of stage and in Statler and Waldorf's box at the end of the show.

In the DVD version that I have, there is also a scene where Fozzie and Rowlf play English Country Garden on the piano. It is actually from a later episode in the season but cut into this episode for no apparent reason. However, it is one of the better Rowlf pieces (Rowlf is my favourite Muppet character) because it features Rowlf shouting "Modulate!" at Fozzie and ends with a huge glissando that takes both characters off the seat, the physical gag.



The other recurring theme that I like is the conservatism of Sam the Eagle, who always gets his comeuppance. In this episode, Kermit and Sam have a particularly funny exchange -
SAM: "I have seen some pretty weird guests on the show but this Elton John borders on the REVOLUTIONARY!"
KERMIT: "Sam, Elton John is a very important musician."
SAM: "Then why does he dress like a stolen car?"

Kermit then tells Sam that even classical musicians like Mozart were 'revolutionary' and wore high heels, stockings and a wig. After being shown a painting of Mozart wearing said outfit, Sam loses a bet and is forced to announce Elton's last song in flamboyant clothing. A win for the arts over conservatism!

This episode, for me, epitomises everything I like about the show: the guest spot, the characters, the jokes, the sly subversiveness and the music.

Episode rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 10/10

LolDarth





From ROFLRazzi - most of them are crap but occasionally there's GOLD.

12 October, 2008

Facebook stole my life

I'm really annoyed because anyone who knows my sister will have seen pictures of my niece on her Facebook page. I haven't even seen a picture of my niece as I'VE NOT YET BEEN SENT A PHOTO DESPITE REQUESTS TO BOTH PARENTS AND BROTHER. And I'm not on Facebook.

09 October, 2008

Espanol

The best ad I've ever seen for language classes ever:

Long musing on short selling

I was surprised to find myself reading all about the role of ‘short selling’ in the global financial meltdown instead of heading out with my workmates to enjoy the lunchtime sunshine.

‘Short selling’ is basically this: I see an item at the shops. I say to you ‘hey, I just saw that thing you wanted at the shops—did you want me to get it for you next time I’m there?’ You say ‘sure, how much was it?’ I say, ‘$50’ and you hand over the cash.

So the next day I go to the shops, only they’re having a 20% off sale. I buy the item for you, but I have $10 spare. Should I keep the money or give it back to you? You were happy to pay $50 for the item, so it doesn’t matter to you whether you get the $10 change or not. But neither the item, nor the money you gave me, was actually mine, so I really shouldn’t have any claim to anything.

Short selling is making money from the fall in stock price with money that isn’t yours (excluding fees etc). It was also perfectly legal in Australia until last month. The part that people have a problem with is the deliberate preying on the fall in stock price. If I knew, for example, that the store was having a 20% off sale but still took $50 from you and pocketed $10, that would make my actions less ethical.

The up side of being a business journalist and learning all these things is now I think I actually understand the machinations of the enterprise that Milo Minderbinder sets up in Catch 22, which I’ve always skimmed over despite having read the novel several times. Milo buys eggs for six cents apiece and sells them for four cents and still makes a profit, and Yossarian wonders how. Milo, you capitalist bastard.

06 October, 2008

I heart TINA

THIS IS NOT ART...


The TINA Festival Club came furnished with pew-like seating and these delightful cardboard finishes. This year the club was located in the old rail holdings on the water side of Civic Station. It looks less dodgy than the PAN Building but it does seem to take the action away from the rest of the block, consisting of Civic Park, Watt Space Gallery, Octapod and Newcastle City Hall where a lot of the panels are.



Staple Manor where good zines go to be born.



Nobbys Head by night. The tripod was a good investment for night scenery like this. I have no idea why the sky turned out so red. The light was actually kind of yellow/orange.



Near Civic Station. I giggled for a while after I saw this. I just didn't realise you could get sheets of orange dot stickers the size of a tablecloths, nor did I realise those stickers could become a form of street art.

29 September, 2008

Misplaced

I've just misplaced a large spider.

There was a huntsman spider on my balcony last night, overseeing me hang out my laundry. This morning, it had vanished.

28 September, 2008

Diet

Things I ate this week that I shouldn't have:
  • (Wednesday) Packet of cheap Aldi fruit jellies that were supposed to be sour but weren't;

  • (Friday) Dodgy felafel roll prepared by a man who didn't wear gloves and didn't wash his hands prior to preparation accompanied by an ancient sitting-in-the-counter-window-all-day Greek salad;

  • (Saturday) Bowl of strawberries and cream, having already eaten two pancakes layered with strawberries and cream;

  • (Sunday) 700ml of Cottee's Instant Vanilla Pudding made with Coles Lite Milk, which had a use by date of 25/09. It smelled okay. It was the only way I could think to finish the milk;

  • (Sunday) Five slices of thick-cut raisin toast slathered in butter. I had to finish the loaf.

21 September, 2008

Hello chihuahua

Right. Whose frickin' idea was it to make a movie entirely populated with spoilt chihuahuas? I'm talking about that Disney monstrosity soon to hit our screens: 'Beverly Hills Chihuahua'.

The WORST part is that The Cat Empire, one of my favourite bands in the whole wide world ever, have licensed their song 'Hello' to the film, which I just heard on the trailer. Why why WHY?!? Surely cracking the US market isn't worth that?

It reminds me of the time I heard Bic Runga's 'Sway' in the teen flick 'American Pie'. She was tongue-in-cheek when she referred to it one gig. As I recall, she said "I'm going to end with a song that you may have heard in that quality movie 'American Pie'. It's called 'Sway'..."- knowing full well that 'Sway' was a mega-hit years before the movie.

15 September, 2008

Hello Zia!

Holy crap, they've finally released The Mysterious Cities of Gold here on DVD dubbed in English!

Sir saw it at Borders while we were browsing yesterday. The worst part is that I've just found out that it has been out for more than a month here. How did I not hear about it?

I've been dropping large hints about Christmas to anyone who will listen.

14 September, 2008

Back to implacable

For some crazy reason the weather has whipped back to 'implacable', giving us wild winds and bursts of rain this morning. I found it difficult to sleep.

Last night I was walking around the city in short sleeves.

I blame climate change.

13 September, 2008

Word on the weather

Today, it is summer.

I don't care whether you consider early September 'summer', but if there ever was a day I could label the beginning of summer, it would be today.

Last Saturday, the best word to describe the weather was 'implacable'. The wind and heavy rain made the streets of Sydney a miserable place to be. It was my great misfortune to be forced to go out and contend with the elements when my commitments bid me outside.

Today, however, I stepped outside and the hot dry air immediately enveloped my skin. The pavement burned and I felt naked without sunscreen. I felt I should head to the beach instead of the polling booths for the local council elections. Summer, I thought, is here.

One surefire summer sign is a scent I can only really describe as 'strawberry ice cream'. Not the deluxe stuff you get in cardboard tubs, but the pink third of a neapolitan plastic offering. My parents have this growing in their front yard. I've not yet identified the exact plant because they have a bit of a flower jungle in their front patch, but the scent was always strongest in summer.

One year I thought I knew which plant it was. Ironically, the suspect died but the scent remained and I still don't know. Now I pass gardens on my way to and from work and I can smell it: strawberry summer.

21 August, 2008

Made in China

At the risk of being arrested for sedition if I ever go to China, here's a series of images I received from a workmate today called 'Making a logo'. Unfortunately she didn't leave on any identifying details in the forward so I don't know who it is by therefore can't credit it properly as I'd like.









11 August, 2008

Cecilia

My niece-to-be (in about six weeks) has been named Cecilia. I'm not sure whether I'm less crazy about the name or the fact that my brother keeps signing cards and emails with his name, his wife's and his unborn daughter's. Surely it's some sort of bad luck to do that?

Cecilia is the patron saint of music, and also (before St C had lute lessons, I presume) 'dim-sighted one'. Hmm.

I was saying to my sister that I can't wait until Cecilia is five so I can take her to the zoo and be a cool aunt, but that I would probably have kids of my own by that point.

- "Why would that stop you from being a cool aunt?"

- "Because I'd be the mother of her younger, therefore uncool, cousins."

- "Yeah, you're right."

26 July, 2008

21 July, 2008

Word, words, words

Having survived the surgical removal of my wisdom teeth, I remembered to email Dr Ruth Wajnryb, Spectrum's 'Words' columnist about an interesting linguist question that has been bothering me for some weeks:

Recently I had to go into day surgery to have my wisdom teeth removed. A day before the scheduled surgery a nurse called to ask a few questions: 'Do you have diabetes?' 'Do you smoke?' etc. Her last question was 'You haven't had a cold or cough in the past week?' Instinctively I said 'yes', which I then had to explain as 'yes, I haven't had a cold or cough'.

What is the correct interpretation of the negative question? If she had asked 'Have you had a cold or cough in the past week?' I would have answered 'no', so surely asking a negative version of that question should also reverse the answer.


I received the following reply today:

Thank u for ur email. Interesting question. First let me ask u if you're a speaker of an Asian language, because this is a point of grammar that often trips up such a speaker and my reply would be different then compared to if u'd been a native speaker of English. Ruth

Seriously, is this columnist really a linguist? I'm not sure if this is some kind of post-modernist response incorporating SMS language or just a truly bad email.

The first thing that threw me was the use of the 'u' instead of 'you' and yet she's typed out 'you're' in full. The second thing that threw me was the use of 'then' instead of 'than' for the comparative.

I feel three things at the moment:
1) The subs must do a good job with her column;
2) The literate world as we know it is about to end;
3) Maybe this is joke she plays on people to see if they correct her.

20 July, 2008

WYDney

A curious phenomenon: although plenty of mutterings about wasted taxpayer money can be heard reverberating around town with regard to World Youth Day, there's also a strange sense of pride emerging that comes from the fact that, after all, these pilgrims are tourists and we need to show them a good time. Even though it won't necessarily involve sex and alcohol.

15 July, 2008

Jesii of North Sydney

Is the plural of Jesus 'Jesuses' or 'Jesii'?

Anyway, there are three statues of Jesus along the Mount St plaza in North Sydney. One is Jesus in a technicolour dreamcoat, one is greyscale Jesus and the other is 'One Love' Jesus. I keep bumping into all the Catholics who stop to take photos with each of them.

I made the mistake of scheduling a meeting in the city this morning. The top of George Street was blocked to traffic. There was a pilgrim parade instead, which was worse because the crowd wasn't going my way. The parade featured pilgrims grouped in countries with the head of each group displaying their country's flag. It was like the Olympic opening ceremony for Catholics.

This evening I came home to find that the quiet suburb of Waverton had turned into a very loud concert of people covering bad music: CDB, Mary Mary, Mariah Carey and Guy Sebastian - need I say more? It ended with a ferocious fireworks display that I couldn't see, only heard. Fortunately all World Youth Day acoustic activity ceased about half an hour ago. Catholics need to sleep, after all.

Can someone tell me why this event is called World Youth Day?
1) It's not for all the world, only Catholics;
2) It's not just for youth - I would hardly call the Pope a spring chicken;
3) It's not for a day, it's for SIX.

10 July, 2008

On the scene

My mother has always hated Get Smart ("it's a silly show") and now that it's in cinemas everywhere, I think she dreads the revival of the TV series, which is inevitably available on DVD. I've always enjoyed the inanity and have used terms like 'the cone of silence' on many occasions.

Anyway, the point of mentioning her comment was that we couldn't agree on anything to watch at the cinema on Tuesday. She wanted to see Children of the Silk Road, I wanted to see Get Smart so we compromised and saw Mongol instead. It was a bit too long and a bit too bloody, is all I'll say.

What amazes me is the number of films out now which are based on TV shows: Get Smart, Sex & The City, The X Files: I want to believe, The Dark Knight (albeit originally based on a comic book). Then the number of films based on graphic novels, stage shows, character franchises, books, anime... Is there an original idea in this industry?

Am looking forward to The Dark Knight but also have a bunch of others on my list to see: The Orphanage, Wanted, The Square and maybe even Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay.

07 July, 2008

Citizen Pain

So, having just had my three remaining wisdom teeth surgically removed I decided to catch up on some DVD-watching. First on the list, Citizen Kane, which has been nominated as the best movie of all time by... a number of people.

It's good, but not great. Good because some of the film techniques in it are quite striking and contemporary, even for a movie so old. Not great because it is based on the life of Randolph Hearst and so I have to take points off for lack of originality in terms of plot.

By the way, I'm not in much pain - my jaw's a bit achey - but I think it's funny that I have jowly cheeks like Orson Welles.

29 June, 2008

Peter Alexander



I have two pairs of Peter Alexander pyjamas, both of which I bought on sale some years ago. My favourite of the two is my 'Breakfast Egg' pyjama set. When I did my Northern Exposure tour to Europe in 2005 I brought these pyjamas with me because I just couldn't face sleeping in my clothes for three months. I got a lot of comments from fellow hosteliers about how comfy they looked.

I've worn them out now, but I couldn't face throwing them out so I decided to do the enviro-friendly thing and turn them into rags.

The Peter Alexander story is a heartening, rags-to-riches one. Peter started the business at his mother's dining room table and now boasts a chain of stores in addition to his mail order and online business. And now, because of a pair of scissors, Peter Alexander is once again rags.

Supposed Gloucester Pregnancy 'Pact'

For those of you into more serious news, you may not have heard about the Gloucester pregnancy pact rumours. Gloucester is some small town in Massachusetts, USA (not the sizeable town in the UK) where the local high school has just recorded 17 teen pregnancies, far more than the usual three or four.

There are rumours that the teen mums-to-be made a 'pact' to get preggers at the same time and look after the kids as in some kind of commune situation but these are quite unsubstantiated.

Anyway, a report about the pregnancy spike caught my eye in the Saturday paper. Originally from Associated Press, the last paragraph reads:

Karlee's father, Michael Mitchell, 17, thinks he knows why the spike happened. "They were horny, it was a cold winter. It's boring around this town."

Mystery solved.

28 June, 2008

Confucius says

"Do you like my metaphor? I think it works on so many levels."
- Pinstripe Pants by Kid Confucius

24 June, 2008

The Big Apple

No, not New York but the new Apple Store in Sydney. The Apple frenzy was still alive and well on Sunday night (22nd June), when I snapped this pic, just a few days after opening.

I know it sounds strange, but I think I'll miss the mysterious scaffolding on the corner of King and George Streets. I never thought about what was behind that facade and totally missed the hype about the store due to the Sydney Film Festival.

The next two stores to open will be Chatswood Chase, which is one of my local shopping centres, and Chadstone in Melbourne. That is, a win for Gandel who own both those centres.

Still debating about whether to get an iPhone when it arrives.

21 June, 2008

The Good Fight

There's a moment in every tumultuous situation when you realise that whatever happens, you'll emerge unscathed. Someone may hate you, but that's okay because you realise, with oh so much clarity, that you don't care what they think.

18 June, 2008

I don't drive

... so I found this image quite funny. Look, I feel for people who have no option but to drive because there's no public transport (or what public transport there is sucks arse) but for all those people who find it merely 'inconvenient', they can pay what it's worth, which is actually more than they're charging so be thankful.

My worry is that since urban sprawl has eaten up metropolitan farmland, the follow-on effect will be that we pay more for food because it's so damn far to transport it from where the farms are now to where we live. The problem with that is, packaged food becomes more attractive because it's cheaper to transport due to its longer shelf life than fresh food and that's worse for the environment.

10 June, 2008

Orphaned

I hate when I go to a media event not knowing anyone and everyone is in little groups talking to each other. How do you break into a conversation to introduce yourself? Surely it's rude to hover around, waiting for a break in the conversation.

I found myself in a room of economists today. Journalists I can handle now that I'm a big girl, but economists I haven't had enough experience in. I was orphaned.

07 June, 2008

Barack Bin Laden?

A gaffe in the Sydney Morning Herald's 'News Review' section today...



Now if everyone could just give the Obama covers a rest until after the US elections, I'd be happy to read an Australian-focused publication again.

04 June, 2008

More about chocolate

One of the designers is leaving on Friday so I decided to make some cookies for her from the (American) chocolate recipe book that everyone pooled together and bought me for my birthday last month. (Also because I need to redeem myself for sending all my pages in late this issue, but that's a boring story).

Apart from having to convert all the measurements, everything went quite well so I now have a massive batch of 'Confetti Fudge Cookies' ready to share.

By volume, the three top ingredients of 'Confetti Fudge Cookies' are:
* Cooking chocolate
* M&Ms
* Cocoa powder

In other words:
* Chocolate
* Chocolate
* Chocolate

I think it is safe to say that 'The Everything Chocolate Cookbook' is not a tome for dieters.

31 May, 2008

The Phantom of the Opera (show)

The Phantom of the Opera
Lyric Theatre - Star City, Sydney (21st May, 2008)

The Lyric Theatre, located within Sydney's harbourside casino, Star City, is NOT conducive to imagining the Paris Opera House in the 19th century. The bland, modern seating and the brightly coloured roof painting made sure of that. The last time it played in Sydney it was at Her Majesty's Theatre (if my memory serves me correctly), which is a theatre with much more character. As is The State Theatre and The Capitol.

Having said that, the designers did their best and the set was a nice blend of functional, Parisian and 1980s musical kitsch. I was only aware of the vastness of the stage in the rooftop scene (at the end of Act 1) where Raoul (Alexander Lewis) and Christine (Ana Marina) couldn't quite fill the stage with their posturing and at the start of the graveyard scene (halfway through Act 2) when Christine's wandering around before the Phantom and Raoul turn up.

But the show... With Anthony Warlow reprising his role as the Phantom, it was bound to be a treat, and he didn't disappoint. His Phantom portrayed both a figure of menace and heartbreak - sometimes simultaneously - which is incredibly hard to do with just one's voice, considering his facial features were covered by a mask for the most part (and some of us sit well back from the stage).

Marina's voice impressed, incredibly clear and suitably vulnerable at key moments, however I'm sorry to say that her acting was terrible and there was no chemistry between her and Lewis at all. She sunk 'Wishing you were somehow here again' (graveyard scene) with her contrived 'anguished' motions and I found myself bored for the first time in the show until the Phantom and Raoul came along.

Lewis is a real find as Raoul, however. Despite the lack of chemistry with Christine, he cut a dashing figure as the soprano's lover and theatre patron (think young Hugh Jackman) and his voice resonated well in the context of his role.

For the first time, I felt I understood Raoul, not as an arrogant suitor who wants to rid himself of his rival, the Phantom, but as someone who is straightforward in his thinking of a problem. He sees the Phantom bothering Christine and threatening others in the theatre so he immediately wants to address the root of the problem by eradicating the menace. What he doesn't understand is how the Phantom's tutelage of Christine has affected her, making it hard for her to make a decision against the Opera Ghost. It is his misunderstanding of her feelings for the Phantom that causes the greatest amount of conflict between the lovers but it also serves to show how his love endures her indecision.

Someone else to note is Carlotta, played by Andrea Creighton, whose voice was not only spot on, but whose acting - part diva, part comic relief - was well-balanced and unforced, unlike Marina's Christine.

Much has been made of the 'tired' musical but I don't think it is tired at all, just out of context at the Lyric Theatre and perhaps requiring a stronger actress than Marina (although I must emphasise that her voice is very good). There are elements that make it kitschy, like the underground lair, but that's actually what the audience come to see so it's an element that must stay. In fact, I personally love the underground lair. It's suitably 'creative genius meets dark side' with a dash of romance. It's on par with the production I saw in 1997 and better than the hapless movie that came out in 2006.

Show rating: 7/10
Enjoyment rating: 8/10

Supplementary, my dear witmol

My mother, whenever I see her, likes to give me nutritional supplements. I don't know whether she thinks I can't feed myself properly now that I live away from home or whether it's just her way of 'mothering' me because I don't live at home but there's a good chance that the next time I see her there will be more nutritional supplements in my cupboard than actual food.

22 May, 2008

Men At Arms

Have been reading more Terry Pratchett than is good for me lately. My favourite bit from Men At Arms (part of the City Watch Trilogy omnibus somebody gave me some time ago) happens when Constable Cuddy (a dwarf) and Constable Detritus (a troll) are in an underground sewer when they discover that Ankh-Morpork has been built on an older version of Ankh Mopork:

'In Ankh-Morpork even the shit have a street to itself,' said Detritus, awe and wonder in his voice. 'Truly, this a land of opportunity.'

Genius.

27 April, 2008

Hot Fudge

My chilli chocolate refuses to set.
It has become chilli chocolate fudge.
I am officially a genius.

25 April, 2008

Hot Choc

I was really supposed to be chipping away at some of the massive pile of work I've managed to get myself involved in but instead I found myself once again in the kitchen, this time making chocolate.

I did this because cooking is one of the only things that makes me focus entirely on one activity (doing the crossword is another, as is swimming). I decided it wouldn't be too bad if I just spent an hour or so making chocolate as a kind of break from work, considering I've been doing the hard yards for about three weeks now.

Why chocolate? Because after Easter I bought a 1kg bag of Priceline Easter eggs for $3 and soon found out why it was cheap and the last thing on the shelf. So I wanted to melt them down and add a couple of flavours and see if I couldn't make the chocolate better. The eggs were just sitting in the cupboard, waiting to be transformed. Besides which, I'd run out of flour and butter for other baking activities.

I ended up creating three batches, a couple of trays of freckles, a mocha-flavoured batch and a chilli chocolate batch. When I started out melting the chocolate (miraculously remembering my high school food tech teacher's warning never to heat chocolate directly but put a bowl above boiling water instead), my mouth began to water, thinking of all the bowls I would have to lick at the end.

When the chocolate was liquid, I sifted in a couple of tablespoons of pure cocoa and then some organic milk to make the chocolate more flavoursome. For the first batch I poured the mixture into muffin trays that had been lined with hundreds and thousands so that when you tipped them out they'd be all colourful on top.

For the second batch I sifted through mocha flavouring (shh, the powder actually expired last month but I didn't think it would really affect the chocolate). This was actually a bad idea because while I love drinking mochas, I don't really like coffee-flavoured chocolate to eat. This I only realised later on.

For the third batch I sprinkled chilli powder (god knows how much) until I could smell it had chilli in it. I ended up pouring this lot into an oblong container so I could eat it as a block.

However, by the end of the exercise – and I'd barely touched any 'spare' chocolate – I felt ill at the thought of eating chocolate, despite the fact that it all smelled so good. It was like that time I went to Estonia with my Finnish friends and we ate at a chocolate cafe and afterwards I vowed I'd never eat chocolate again. (The funniest thing was the very next day we made a special trip to Fazer, a chocolate shop in Helsinki...).

So now I have almost a kilo's worth of chocolate just hanging around with no one to eat it. What a fool am I.

Even worse, the clean up was a nightmare. Everything I touched turned to chocolate and the stuff really was everywhere. What was supposed to be an hour-long break turned out to be a three-hour kitchen odyssey, with results I can't even bring myself to eat. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow.

No such thing as Anzac cookies

The first thing I ever made all by myself was Anzac biscuits. I was driven to do my own baking for two significant reasons: one, most commercial Anzac biscuits were crunchy; and two, all commercial Anzac biscuits contained coconut.

With the help of Family Circle: Irresistible Biscuits, Cookies & Shortbread (Murdoch Books, 1993), I developed a modified recipe for chewy Anzac biscuits consisting of no coconut but more oats and half the sugar but an extra 1/2 tablespoon of golden syrup. I brought these into work on Tuesday and they were enjoyed by all.

The other day a gift arrived from a PR company. The package contained Anzac cookies. Now, I'm the kind of person who calls a spade a spade and a cookie a cookie. Anzac biscuits ARE NEVER COOKIES. This is not some anti-American spiel against cookies, it is a recognition of the sad indictment that is poor education encompassing both the meaning of words and culinary difference.

In general, biscuits are hard and you should be able to munch on them noisily (unless they are chewy Anzacs...). They are generally flat in appearance as their ability to 'rise' is NOT a key factor in their making. If you were to break them, you would be able to snap them off. Biscuits can be sweet or savoury.

Cookies are 'little cakes', which means they are doughy. They are always sweet. If you were to break them they would crumble. Their key characteristic is that they have more 'air' in them and thus tend to be puffy or chunky.

Anzac biscuits are never and have never been cookies. When the recipe was developed last century, the women who invented them didn't even know what cookies were, as they would have come from Anlgo-Saxon stock which exclusively dealt with biscuits. Even mine, which are chewy rather than crunchy, do not become cookies because of that trait.

What would need to happen to Anzac biscuits to turn them into Anzac cookies? Well, the Anzacs never ate cookies so whatever modification made to the biscuit recipe to make cookies would render the Anzac adjective redundant. Perhaps Anzac biscuit-like cookies would be more accurate? Oatmeal cookies are probably most similar to Anzac biscuits and the main difference in the result probably comes from the beating of the butter and sugar (making the mixture fluffy) before adding the other ingredients.

By the way, I make cookies too. I like them and I'm getting pretty good at making them. I just hate the term 'Anzac cookies'.

P.S: According to my analysis, this means that the 'cookies' you get at McDonald's – the little kiddie ones you get in the box that are shaped like McDonald's characters – are actually biscuits.

22 April, 2008

Rich Women

I received a call today from a lady named Kate who had rung on behalf of Naomi Simson, founder of Red Balloon Days, the experience gift company. Kate opened her spiel with a reference to the BRW Rich List (whichever one is out now, they have so many it's rather boring...) saying that of the 200 people on the list, only two were women.

I feigned some kind of interest, as the call was more appropriately addressed to my editor (to whom I passed dear Kate), but then I thought about it some more. Why would only two women be part of the mega-rich?

My theory is that women do not go into business to make money as their ultimate priority. If we want to take a more stereotypical view of women, it's their caring nature that may prove the driver for their business. If this is the case, some rich list is probably not as important as being a responsible business and, for example, being named in the top 200 of the most socially responsible businesses in Australia (if there was such a list).

From my experience networking with businesswomen, plenty of them start their own business not to make lots of money but to make enough money to be sustainable so they could control other things such as their work-life balance, or do something that other businesses, under which they had worked previously, wouldn't let them do.

If you want a 'tough woman against staid corporate world' scenario, it may be that a woman who was constantly denied leave to care for her chronically ill daughter found it easier to set up her own business than fight the existing system. Sometimes they thrive, sometimes they struggle.

The other thing about being on the rich list is that generally you need to be at the head of a fairly sizeable company, and very few of these are self-made; names like Murdoch, Packer and Lowy don't appear in the top five as sole traders or as owners of the corner store. So the problem isn't that women aren't earning a lot of money (surely some are earning a pretty good salary...), but that women are not promoted to the head of large companies that they do not own for whatever reason you care to explain.

There are a lot of female entrepreneurs starting small businesses. Personally, I think the number outstrips men. Their businesses may be profitable, but the owners themselves may not be one of the 200 richest people in Australia. And a lot of them, I think, would say - 'so what? Business is good and I'm doing what I want to do.'

15 April, 2008

The Black Balloon (film)

Long time since I've been here and I apologise. Never mind, I'm back for a very good reason, The Black Balloon. I went in expecting a nice little Aussie film, for aside from Wolf Creek and Rogue, I think most Aussie films have been 'nice' of late, which is to say pleasant, a bit ho-hum and nothing to write home about. The Black Balloon is different and here's why...

First of all, the casting is superb. I can even forgive (catwalk model) Gemma Ward's alien looks for what is a pretty good acting debut (barring a previous performance in another of director Elissa Downs' films way back in 2001).

The film follows teenaged Thomas to an anonymous suburb where he lives with his army father, pregnant mother and older brother Charlie, who is autistic. Moving around would be difficult enough without throwing Charlie's autistic behaviour into the mix and it is Charlie's unpredictability that gives the film its necessary tension.

Toni Collette is destined to play the mother of an unconventional family. She did it as ghost-visionist Haley-Joel Osment's mother in The Sixth Sense, and had a wonderful turn as matriarch in Little Miss Sunshine. As Maggie Mollison, she balances standard 'no-nonsense' authority with a clearly loving and almost endlessly patient maternity. Her dynamic with Charlie seems especially real.

Her husband looks like an army man but has his quirks too, for example, he takes orders from his teddy bear Rex. He's tough but soft inside, which makes the family dynamic heartbreaking at times.

Thomas (Rhys Wakefield) is sick of having an autistic brother (Luke Ford) he has to hide or defend, but he finds an unlikely ally in Jackie (Gemma Ward). While Gemma does well in the role (considering she's a renowned model, she pulls off teen gawkishness pretty well), the role itself is a bit of a let down as Jackie seems too good to be true — too understanding, too deep, too tolerant, and too quick to attach herself to Thomas despite the incidents that threaten to snuff their nascent relationship.

However, suspend your disbelief at Jackie's character and the rest works smoothly, with moments of beauty (the storm where Thomas, Jackie and Charlie need to take shelter at the army training ground) and bouts of ugliness (the climactic violence between Charlie and Thomas).

Other than the well-chosen cast, three other things stand out. The first is the very real portrayal of the average Australian suburb in the early 1990s. The attitude of the neighbours, the schoolyard tussles, even the PE lessons in the pool are uncomfortably familiar.

The second is the truth in Thomas' journey of understanding about his brother's autism. It takes Jackie's tolerance for him to grasp that Charlie won't change and become normal, so it's up to him to make his peace with the fact. The journey is not easy, in fact it's fraught with layers of hard lessons, but his inklings of acceptance close the film nicely.

Finally, the balance of humour and discomfort is the right one. There is much that an Australian can identify with and laugh at (while inwardly squirming) and Downs has interplayed these moments with Charlie's misbehaviour and the havoc it wreaks.

All in all, an entertaining film that hits all the right emotions. And better yet, nothing to be embarrassed about when talking about homegrown talent.

Film rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 9/10

14 April, 2008

Gold

funny pictures

The expression on this dog's face is gold

13 April, 2008

When consumption is good for you

Most people who know me know that I'm a pretty hard market to sell to. It isn't that I'm miserly, just that I'm not all that interested in buying stuff. In general. I'm more likely to spend a great deal of money on an experience, like tickets to a gig or travel or something other than stuff. But sometimes it's the simple purchases in life that can make you happy.

Yesterday I went to the North Sydney Markets to pick up my street signs. The proceeds from the sale of the street signs go to the community centre. I'd bought Doohat Lane and Croquet Club for $50 each (Doohat because I pass the street every day on my way to work and it always makes me laugh and Croquet Club for a friend who'll be hosting an Alice in Wonderland 30th Birthday party later this year). There were others that hadn't been sold yet and I managed to get Sirius St for $10. I'm not sure whether to give it to an astronomy nut or a Harry Potter fan. Buying street signs, for some strange reason, made me happy.

Then I hopped on a bus and went to The Good Guys in Chatswood to buy a washing machine that uses 50L less water than our current model and half as much energy. I won a $50 voucher courtesy of Jetstar (which I thought was from my Brisbane trip earlier this year but was actually from when I went to Hobart for work last October...) and managed to get the machine for $610 + $42 delivery = $652 - $50 voucher = $602. Of course it took me ages to save up that much in cash (and my flatmate won't pay for half of it because she's hopeless with money) but with the enviro benefits and the fact I'll be getting $150 in a Sydney Water rebate, that purchase also made me happy.

I was mostly buoyed by the fact that my credit card bill this month is less than $500 (when it is usually $1500), though it didn't include my recent Brisbane trip, which will be coming soon.

Then I caught a bus back to North Sydney Markets and bought some random secondhand goods including a 3/4 length pinstripe blazer, 'The 80/20 Principle' by Richard Koch, a mushroom coloured Portmans top and a Rif Raf crochet dress, as well as avocadoes and tomatoes from the produce people. And I didn't eat anything that would compromise my pants situation. And, for some reason, all that made me happy.

05 April, 2008

Pants!

My small pants are too big, my big pants are too small...*

I recently read a post by Neil Gaiman at his website about the 'jeans test' to figure out whether you've been putting on weight. This is a phenomenon currently sweeping my closet. My baggy jeans fit perfectly and my favourite cargo pants (ie my only cargo pants which are 10 years old because I cannot find a pair that doesn't have 'bits' - ie toggles and random zips and straps and shit - all over them), which were my 'comfy' pair of pants now leave marks on my stomach if I sit for too long.

At least Mr Gaiman has a winter to blame his weight gain on - I have nothing. In fact, I've been quite healthily eating plenty of vegetables and exercising a lot in the past couple of months. Yes, I do snack and I do eat out but no more than usual (ie, the last couple of years) so I can't really understand why I'm starting to pile it on now.

For confirmation, I saw my weight in numbers when I went to give blood because they have to weigh you to make sure you're in the eligible weight range to donate. Seems I've put on 6kg since the last time they weighed me (nine months ago), which was itself 3kgs up on my weight six months prior to that. Generally speaking, I need to lose about 10kgs to get back to my mass 18 months ago.

The thing is, when I look at myself in the nude I don't look fat, but the clothes test never lies (and neither do the scales) and damned if I'm going to buy clothes that won't fit WHEN I lose weight.

And the worst thing? The worst thing is not all the work I have to put into losing the extra kilos. The dietary discipline, the punishing exercise regime, I can handle. It's the fact that I have to become a cliche 'person on a diet' that bloody well shits me. Low fat everything, refusing biscuits with afternoon tea that no longer exists and fake sugar. Ugh, I hate fake sugar, I think I'll do without. Save me!

* By the way, this does make sense. It means even my smallest pants are considered 'large' size and what I thought were big pants are too tight.

30 March, 2008

Recovery

In Which Dr Witmol Starts With A Champagne, Argues About Nachos, Eats At Krispy Kreme, Shoots a Jager Bomb And Wakes Up In A Pool Of Giraffe Saliva.

Said goodbye to my editor who moves on to greener pastures with no hard feelings. Drank lots. Ate food that I shouldn't have. Ripped open my hand on the zipper of my boot (this was quite surprising to me at the time - all I could do was watch the blood drip onto the footpath with a strange sense of amazement).

Went to Gla's birthday/end of exams gathering at The Royal George (the downmarket version of The Ivy) and met a bunch of accounting types. Between bars we stopped at Krispy Kreme, the fount of all that's evil in the world, and vaguely remember losing my bag of cinnamon fun bun (their sugary version of an Easter bun) between the counter and the ice cream fridge. Rescued by Gla's friend, who I later repaid by destroying his cigarettes. I like to think of it as saving his life.

Bar 333 was loud so instead of yelling at each other we just had Jager bombs and started dancing. At some point, Bun Rescuer's friend took a photo of me and later asked me for my number, of which I gave him, and he asked me out yesterday so I mustn't have looked as trashed as I felt. Then five of us went to karaoke at Echo Point and then I used my last $20 to get a taxi home.

Not long after I fell asleep I had to wake up again because I'd been invited to a behind-the-scenes of the zoo (one of Skippy's friends works there) and had to walk to Neutral Bay to catch a bus. It was awesome!

Keeper does tours in the Australian mammals section so we started at the education centre patting snakes and lizards, then moved into the nocturnal section where we saw the zoo kitchen; the funniest part was seeing Keeper take out a plastic container full of frozen baby mice and then waving around a frozen rat. We fed the bilbies and the potoroos and then headed out to take a look at a koala, pat an echidna and a quokka. The quokka was especially adorable (right).

Then Keeper managed to get us into the Giraffe Encounters later in the afternoon but then had to start her shift. We had some time to wander around so saw the bird show (finally managed to see my condor in action) and then I split from the group to go and see the condor habitat and wander around on my own. Due to lack of sleep I kept finding all these areas devoid of animals and seriously slowed down quite a bit as the afternoon became drowsier.

By the time I arrived at the giraffe enclosure for my Encounter I was practically crawling up the hill. But after I handed over my ticket and fed the four of them carrots, I perked up significantly. There's nothing quite like having your hands covered in giraffe saliva to make you more alert. One of the giraffes, who I think went by the name of Safara (below), kept lolling her tongue around and slobbering everywhere. It was quite endearing.



Nothing else quite as interesting happened for the rest of the weekend (I turned off all the electricity in my apartment during Earth Hour, then promptly fell asleep in the couch) so that's where I'll leave you.

24 March, 2008

Curry Puffs

This is the recipe for curry puffs that I extracted from my mum for Maundy (Multicultural And Undeniably Nice Delicious Yums) Wednesday, an international buffet we held at work to celebrate the um, cultural diversity of the staff. And food, of course. I represented Malaysia.

Filling ingredients:
2 tablespoons curry powder
1 brown onion, finely diced
250g beef mince
4 medium potatoes, finely diced
1 cup peas
oil
water
salt

Filling method:
* Mix curry powder into a small quantity of water to make a thick paste
* In a frypan, fry onions in oil on medium heat. When the onions turn golden, add curry paste
* Simmer for 5-10 minutes until oil separates. Add meat, potatoes and peas. Mix well. Add salt to taste if required. If the mixture seems dry, add a little water
* When the filling is cooked through, let stand to cool. If the mixture is oily, drain using paper towels

Pastry ingredients:
1 packet puff pastry, thawed (or you can make your own if you're game but make sure they roll out to six 30cm x 30cm square sheets)
1 egg, beaten

Pastry method:
* Preheat oven to 180c
* Slice each pastry sheet into nine squares
* Holding each square along its diagonal, drop a teaspoonful of filling in the centre
* Pinch edges together and fold to seal so the puff has a triangular shape. It's almost impossible to describe how to do this to make the edges frilly, but the important thing is to seal the edges of the pastry in such a way so the filling doesn't escape
* Place on trays and baste with the egg wash
* Bake in the oven until golden brown (approx 20-30 minutes)

(Makes 54)

21 March, 2008

'Getting to know me' meme

Supposed to pass this on to friends via email but because I have a ban on forwarding such things, here's a semi-permanent reference online.

I also have the King and I musical soundtrack going around in my head because of the damn title.

What is your occupation? Journalist, writer
What colour are your socks right now? Bare feet
What are you listening to right now? Soundtrack to Baraka
What was the last thing that you ate? Lindt Lindor milk chocolate Easter egg
Can you drive a stick shift? I can try
If you were a crayon, what colour would you be? Flaming Lamborghini
Last person you spoke to on the phone? Linda, head of the Sydney Freelance Journalists committee
Do you like the person who sent this to you? Giada has her moments
How old are you today? 26
Favourite drink? Tea
What is your favourite sport to watch? Cricket
Have you ever dyed your hair? Not successfully
Favourite food? Something approaching a Lindt Lindor milk chocolate Easter egg
Last movie you watched? Juno - I liked it but thought it was overrated
Favourite day of the year? Any day that I can get away with doing whatever I like
What do you do to vent anger? Write, tidy my room
What was your favourite toy as a child? Lego
What is your favourite season? Autumn
Hugs or kisses? Hugs from friends, kisses from lovers
Cherry or blueberry? If we are talking the real fruit, cherry; if we are talking the flavour, blueberry
Do you want your friends to email you back? I exert no such pressure
Who is most likely to respond? Janne might publish this meme on his blog [and here 'tis]
Who is least likely to respond? Giada, because she sent this to me
Last vacation? Brisbane, last week (for the Freelance Convention and high tea, naturally)
When was the last time you cried? "Good night, Fuzzy Stone!" in The Cider House Rules by John Irving. I just finished it last night
What is on the floor of your closet? A box filled with photo albums
Favourite smells? Rain, jasmine tea
Who inspires you? Other writers
What are you afraid of? Abandonment
Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Vegie burger?
Favourite car? Pair of working feet
Favorite cat breed? Burmese
Number of keys on your key ring? Four
How many years at your current job? 8 months
Favourite day of the week? Friday
How many states have you lived in? All nine realms
What book (s) are you currently reading? Just finished The Cider House Rules, just about to start Touching the Void by Joe Simpson
Do you think you're funny? I'm... odd

10 March, 2008

A Century of Mills & Boon

So Mills & Boon, that icon of romantic fiction, turns 100 this year. Looking good for a centurian, I must say. With legs like that...

Anyway, I read an article about the history of this noble publishing house in this week's Spectrum. They had a box out at the bottom with various quotes from different Mills & Boon books from different eras. The one from 2008 read:

"He **** his **** and then the **** *** on her ****."
- Don't Look Back by Joanne Rock


Now, I'm not sure whether I don't know enough censor-able words or whether they just censored a whole bunch of words that I wouldn't ordinarily censor but I can't actually figure out what that's supposed to say. I mean, c'mon! Give us the initial letter or something!

Any guesses?

08 March, 2008

The Zuman Race

I went to Taronga Zoo today. I don't generally make a habit of going when it's a) a weekend; or b) sunny because then there are likely to be people around and I wouldn't want that, would I? However, as I'd bought a yearly pass (which expires at the end of this month) and hadn't used it at all, I thought I'd go at least once so I didn't feel as if I'd wasted $80 (or whatever it is now... I forget). I may even be able to squeeze in another visit during the Easter break. I found out that the entrance fee has gone up to a phenomenal $37 for an adult, which is $10 more than it was five years ago so I may only need to visit one more time to get close to what I paid.

Anyway, part of the reason I went is because I have writer's block. I have so many ideas running around in my head on things to write that not only am I not writing any of them, I'm not furthering the most important project ie my novel. Going to the zoo, I believed, would be a great idea because sitting on the lawn in front of the aviary of my South American friends, the Andean condors, has yielded quite a lot in the past. Besides, I thought the concept of captivity would rub off nicely to aid my novel.

Instead, I managed to think of two solid plots for short stories and an ephemeral one for a novel. Sigh. And I took lots of photos. Here are a few of my favourites:

Zebra

Meerkat acting as a sentinel

Giraffes in a row

Dingo contemplating a nap


As you can see, I like when animals look pensive. I would also like to note that it is the first time I've ever seen the Clouded Leopard at Taronga. Every time prior to this, the enclosure has either been empty or I couldn't find the beast. It's a lot smaller than I thought (no pics, sorry), about the size of a medium dog, but very prettily patterned.

On the way home I remembered to buy laundry liquid but forgot to buy myself a Creme Egg.

06 March, 2008

Hugz

humorous pictures

I totally love lolcats, even when they're bunnies.

03 March, 2008

Fully Sick Art


Skippy's sister volunteered to co-ordinate an art project sprucing up the children's ward at Liverpool Hospital. Above is just one example of the results.

I told her it was like rinzen for pre-schoolers and that I wish I were 20 years younger and sick enough to spend some quality time there (not that I want to sacrifice my health, mind you, just an exaggeration about having a pretty environment like that around me to get better).

02 March, 2008

Hmph

Humorous Pictures
(P.S: NOT me on Saturday morning)

01 March, 2008

The Rainbow Parade



Well, the religious right failed in their prayers for rain; it was a brilliantly sunny day today, perfect weather for The Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras. The irony, of course, is that it has been raining all week, which makes this parade more of a rainbow than usual.

I'm not going this year because I'm traumatised by crowds (a hangover from being in last year's parade audience, methinks), but I do wish everyone a gay day.

Ideas for floats:
The Black Parade - led by My Chemical Romance's Gerard Way. This could be the emo float for angsty, confused teens.
Phalanx - 300 buff young men in loincloths. Nuff said.
FRUiTS - like the Shoichi Aoki publication, full of Harajuku costumes like Rock Star Lolita, Tartan Dervish and French Maid Hobo. I just made those up but I wouldn't be surprised if they've been done.

Now, am I in the mood to listen to George Michael or Pink Martini or Missy Higgins?

27 February, 2008

How to Get Your Ass Kicked...

...or 'losing at Donkey Kong in a way that makes you look like a complete dickwad'.


Thanks to FBi radio I won a free double pass to see King of Kong at the Dendy Newtown so I took Sir and we had free Coopers (green label) and settled down for what I envisioned to be nerd central.

For those of you who haven't heard about it, King of Kong is a documentary set around the two contenders for the Donkey Kong world record (highest score). Billy Mitchell (pictured above, receiving an award for Pacman) has been the champion since 1982, his teenage years. Steve Wiebe is relatively new to the competitive side of the game but manages to beat Billy's longstanding record. Rivalry – and hilarity – ensues.

The doco plays things nicely. Billy is portrayed as the arrogant twat, while Steve is just a high school science teacher cum good. Along the way there are some great quotes from the main 'characters', which although sincere, need a healthy dose of irony from the audience to allow the best jokes to slip through. A selection:

Walter Day (video game referee): "I wanted the glory, I wanted the fame. I wanted the pretty girls to come up and say, 'Hi, I see that you're good at Centipede'."

Jillian Wiebe (Steve's daughter): "Work is for people who can't play video games."

Billy Mitchell: "No matter what I say, it draws controversy. It's sort of like the abortion issue."

Mr Awesome (Steve's 'patron' and gamer striving to have his Missile Command record recognised): "Everything would've fell right into place, but he forgot about one thing, about me convincing Steve Wiebe not to be a chump, talking him out of chumpatizing himself."

Brian Kuh (Billy's 'protege', wandering around Funspot as Steve approaches the end of a Donkey Kong game): "If anybody wants to see, there's a Donkey Kong kill screen coming up."

Jillian Wiebe: "I never knew that the Guinness World Record Book was so important."
Steve Wiebe: "I guess a lot of people read that book."
Jillian Wiebe: "Some people sort of ruin their lives to be in there."

Ah, the wisdom of children. In the doco, Jillian looks about eight years old and I swear that she's far more mature than most of the gamers introduced.

Anyway, it's a well-made doco, I recommend that you watch it, if not for the petty squabbling over pixels, then certainly the gamers' dubious aggrandisation.

* I also wanted to add that of course I know that the correct Aussie way to spell 'ass', as in one's bottom, is ARSE but clearly I would have missed the punful title.

18 February, 2008

BLACKLISTED (Feb, 2008)

The following businesses are hereby BLACKLISTED for hiring people who disobeyed my NO ADVERTISING MATERIAL sticker:

LJ Hooker Crows Nest
Changes Exercise Studio Crows Nest
First National Real Estate Peter Hill
Fitzgerald & Sons Removals
Coles
Franklins (TWO catalogues)

17 February, 2008

Mint condition

For some time now, for maybe four or five months, my flatmate and I have been at war with some tiny red ants. They haven't exactly swarmed our apartment (hmm, except for a shocking discovery of a colony of them in a shoe box in my cupboard, which I had to flood out of existence in the bath) but we keep finding drowned ones in our kettle for no apparent reason.

This doesn't make much sense to us. Not long after we first moved in, there were some black ants that tried to storm our liquor cabinet (understandable, lots of sugar) but why these red ones seem to be attracted to boiled water, we have no idea.

Anyway, in accordance with the dr witmol code of living, I refuse to keep pesticides in my apartment as I believe they do humans more harm than the pests they eradicate. So I looked up some natural remedies for repelling ants. Among the ones that we tried were sprinkled borax (which I use for cleaning my bathroom anyway) which didn't work because it kept getting wet, and ground cinnamon, which just didn't work, perhaps because the remedy was species specific.

Yesterday I went to the farmers market (a visit that resulted in me rejecting to buy truss tomatoes at $9.99/kg no matter how organic or hydroponic they were) and happened upon a stall selling potted herbs. Excited by the prospect of keeping fresh rocket on hand, I also purchased a pot of common mint, remembering that mint was an ant repellent I hadn't yet tried.

My friends, we have success. For while sitting here transcribing an interview for a profile I'm working on, I spotted one of the critters brazenly marching around on my desk. I picked a few leaves of mint and crushed them, smearing a line in the path of the little trooper. Repelled, it attempted to tramp around the line until I decide to smear a circle of mint around it, to see what it would do. Caught in a holding pattern - getting to the mint border, then turning away, only to encounter another mint border - it went stir crazy.

Here's a pic (click on it to get the full image):


Unfortunately it soon died in a vinegar dropper accident as I attempted to form a mint maze with a vinegar watercourse, otherwise I would have a short video to post of its incessant, frustrated pacing.

Tonight I will fortify the kettle with mint turrets.

P.S: I'm not entirely sure whether the ant species in question is of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad fire ant variety as I was led to believe these were Queensland's problem. However, I am unable to find a comprehensive field guide about behaviour (e.g. penchant for kettles, suicide by drowning, aversion to mint?) so I don't have any other species suggestions.

As yet I've not been stung by any of them, even though I've been picking them off one by one when they happen across my desk, so I don't know (and don't want to know) whether the resulting pain is like being burnt. Can anyone tell me what they think this ant is?

16 February, 2008

Economies of scale


A partial zoom of Chris Jordan's work 'Ben Franklin 2007', which depicts 125,000 US hundred dollar bills ($US12.5 million), the amount the US government spends every hour on the war in Iraq.

The piece is part of an exhibition called 'Running the Numbers', which illustrates the scale of US consumption in various industries. The artist says, "My hope is that images representing these quantities might have a different effect than the raw numbers alone, such as we find daily in articles and books".

You can visit his site at: Chris Jordan Photography

11 February, 2008

Tears

Sometimes I don't know the difference between the sound of a child laughing and the sound of a child crying.

05 February, 2008

Across the Universe

The Beatles' 'Across the Universe', subject of a recent blog entry about Rufus Wainwright has been chosen to represent Planet Earth at the Univision Song Contest. Or something like that.

Well, apparently NASA has decided to beam the song into outer space, perhaps in the hope that it will bring world peace.

Whatever. It's a good song.

P.S: Rufus was GREAT, I highly recommend seeing him live if you get a chance. He's one of those guys who has genuine charm, wit and great legs.

30 January, 2008

Rufus Wainwright (gig)


Rufus Wainwright
State Theatre, Sydney (29th January, 2008)

Supported by Leena

The State Theatre is a vast auditorium, and for the meek singer-songwriter, the expanse must be intimidating. I feel that was the case for poor Leena, whose set felt overwhelmed. While she showed plenty of promise with glimpses of talent (particularly 'After the Rain' on the keys), there was nothing striking about her voice or instrumental prowess. Instead, it was very clear that the theatre was grander than her presence and abilities. I do hope that she will grow into performance and come back more relaxed and able to start a rapport with future audiences.

Conversely, it seems Rufus Wainwright is a born performer. Gregarious, cheeky and brimming with campness, the droll musician is one of the few people who can walk the tightrope between class and trash and not take a fall, especially in the type of clothes he chooses to wear to performances.

Wainwright has plenty of sparkle, literally and metaphorically, which he shared with his eight piece band, making the live experience richer for it. As this gig followed the issue of his recent album 'Release the Stars', most of the set revolved around a mix of the album's content. Some songs on the album I found a bit flat, but in the live setting Wainwright does a superb job of making everything seem ten times more exciting than it probably is.

The picks of the night were the jaunty 'Matinee Idol', the thumping 'Between My Legs' (with the speaking part completed by competition winner Chantal) and a rather brash version of 'Do I Disappoint You'. And I'd probably follow that with his a cappella rendition of an Irish folk song (I forget the name), which was both touching and, well, showing off his vocal talents (why am I not surprised?) as well as the 'Rufus does Judy Garland' section (see above image) in the latter part of the gig. I wish my legs were like that!

Wainwright deserved all the accolades. His banter between songs was witty and self-deprecating (before 'Leaving for Paris' he mentioned that he wrote it for the film Moulin Rouge but it was eventually dropped in the final edit of the movie, "and that was a flop so let that be a lesson") and by the end of the night he had the audience eating from his hand.

A top class performer, a must-see live even if you only have a passing interest in his music.

Gig rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 10/10