portal to the dark side

I just discovered that the official government site about divorce is called... The Divorce Portal. I find that weird. I associate portals with things in science fiction, like the portkeys in Harry Potter or the phonebox in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Portals are all about deep space, human matter transferance, David Bowie and hyperspace.
I know I've never had one, but I don't think divorce is really that space age. Which leads me to wonder. Does the Howard goverment have a secret plan to stop people from getting divorced? Do people who enter... the divorce portal actually just get sent to another dimension by John Howard and his evil minions?
I can imagine what this would be like. It would be a whole Stepford world where not just the women but the men as well have been turned into semi-functional robots programmed to be good breadwinners and housewives.There would be a whole heap of brick veneer houses with perfect lawns and 1.4 children with happy faces. And acres of picket fences.
Hold on, that sounds a lot like Golden Grove!
Maybe, all those new suburbs that keep appearing on the outskirts of our cities are actually the alternative dimension where John Howard sends robot people after they have been 'reprocessed' by entering the Divorce Portal.
It's a theory.

oops

that made me think of another really stupid thing I did recently.

Once upon a time I decided it would be fun to appropriate a large and very useless item that was left around the university by a militant evangelist student organisation I disagreed with. When I sobered up I realised that my student prank could be construed as theft but I was too paranoid about getting caught to put it back.

The other day I was laughing about this with a friend of mine (who actually stole it with me) and my friend's neighbour.

Then the friend's neighbour just sort of casually mentioned she was an office bearer in that club.

I'm expecting a visit from the police any time now!

planned redundancy

No, this isn't going to be another rant about the state of industrial relation in Australia. Sorry. What I'd like to whinge about today is that my mobile phone is RIP. As a civilisation, we have invented robots that will automatically vacuum floors. We have invented computers that can beat our best grand masters at chess. But, our mobile phones are not water resistant. I know this because I dropped my mobile in the bath the other day. Yes, a very stupid thing to do. I fished it out in half a nano-second, but it was too late. It was dead. It made me think about all the other really stupid things I've done with water in my life, and there's more than there should be...

1. bought expensive tropical fish aged about 10 and forgot that they need to live in warm water.
2. went on holidays during a heatwave and forgot about that whole water business.
3. climbed up to the highest diving board at the Adelaide aquatic centre and belly-flopped. That hurt.
and my personal favourite...
4. went swimming in the sea wearing $300 permanent contact lenses. Decided that the sea weed brushing my leg was actually a frenzied great white shark. opened eyes underwater.

scary stuff

Just to demonstrate the freakiness of the photo, here is the real Ozzy Osbourne himself...

I'm thinking I might send this in to 'that's life' maybe.

university by-laws

I just got this email from my university...

Animals on Campus

10.1 A person shall not:

(i) kill or injure or cause any suffering to any animal within the University grounds;

(ii) bring a dog into the University grounds or permit a dog to remain within those grounds unless the dog is at all times while in those grounds kept on a leash; nor without the consent of the University Council or its delegate, bring a dog (other than a dog used for guidance of a visual or hearing impairment) into any University building or permit any such animal brought by that person into the University building ;

(iii) without the consent of the Council or its delegate, bring any animal (other than a dog or a horse used as a beast of burden or traction) into the University grounds or permit any such animal brought by that person into the University grounds to remain within those grounds;

I find this sad because I've always wanted to bring my dog with me to work. She'd totally just lie under my desk and keep my feet warm. Being a very big German Shepherd, she could bite incompetent tradesmen who install blinds in idiotic ways.

Fortunately, beasts of burden are OK. In other words, I could ride to work on a horse and keep it grazing on the sports fields all day. I could even bring in my library books from home using a well-loaded Clydesdale draught horse. And I wouldn't even need the consent of the Council or its delegate. I'm tempted to test that rule out one day.

I can't help wondering if the first rule gets waived for scientists, who as we know are BAD bad people.

Separated at birth?

My friend looks exactly like Ozzy!!! And she's a girl, who normally looks like a model and is not at all manly. Crazy.

my sister is a pain in the arse

The scene. Our loungeroom. Mid July... the coldest month of the year in Adelaide.

Her (wearing a midriff top): I'm cold. Its so cold in here. Why isn't the bloody heater on?

Me: Why don't you put a jumper on?

H: FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF!!!!

Mum (to me!!!) leave your sister alone sweetheart.

later on that day, she starts trying to connect my old video player to her TV. Somehow, she has 'adopted' it. There is a lot of banging around.

Me (to mother): I'd be quite happy if she actually had one of the other VCRs

Her: THATS BECAUSE YOU HATE ME, I KNOW YOU HATE ME!!!!

later that night:

M: I'm going to bed. (shuts the loungeroom door)

H: (snidely) don't you want to be warm in your room?

M: No, everyone else is awake. I don't want to hear talking, I don't want to get annoyed by noises, I want to sleep.

H: You could have said that in less words

M: If I want a speech editor, I'll let you know.

H: FUCK OFF FUCK OFF FUCK OFF

mellow afternoon

Afternoon sun is casting a very long sunbeam across my desk.... people strolling to their cars are casting tall, masai-like shadows.... the university car park itself is emptying faster than you can say 'pub'... the song I am listening to would make a good soundtrack for a tragic love story about a melancholic Irishman and a sad eyed flamenco dancert... it is making me want to put on a flowing white nightie and cry underneath a waterfall... a fan heater is making soothing white noise, and blowing a sensuous and whooshy breeze at me... the sunbeam is warming my arm to a pleasantly warm temperature... my eyes are half closed... and I'm feeling super-mellow... the cosmos is whispering to me 'go home, go home'... like some sort of zen conch shell...

Come back when your teeth are fixed!!

It is so wrong when disgusting people think they have a chance with me. I'm not talking about the gentle secret admirer type, or the wolf whistling stranger.
No, I mean the guy who is after random female action, decides that the closest person on their radar is moi, and decides that 'no' is some strange female way of saying 'come give it to me RIGHT NOW', decides to bust their moves with no encouragement whatsoever, then doesn't take no for an answer.
What are they THINKING!! Surely, if I was interested, I'd come over and talk. But. If I'm staring at my drink with fierce concentration, it probably means I'm avoiding eye contact.
Like the time I was at a birthday party and a guy I know seemed to be trying to pick up every girl there. When he got around to me, surprise surprise, I wasn't interested either. In the memorable words of G, "come back when your teeth are fixed". Did he get the picture? Nup.
Do I look like someone who would be interested in blokes who look like albino rottweilers with scrubbing brush hair?

No sex please, we're Terrists.

There was a little section in my profile that asked for my occupation and I used to say 'Industry: Maritime; Occupation: Pirate'. But I've just changed it because I wouldn't want to think it's a reference to THAT pirate movie.
I know I'm probably the only person in the world who thinks this, but Johnny Depp is one of the people in the world I find the most annoying. Annoying. Smug. Funny looking. Personification of the word 'git' and probably also 'knob-end".
So I'm not a pirate anymore.

...Sense of humour irrelevant

In the last episode of Black Books, after we've just found out that Bernard's ex fiancee isn't really dead, Bernard retaliates by telling his friend Fran that he found her personal ad: "seeking men for sex... sense of humour irrelevant"
It made me think how funny it would be if everyone had to be that honest in personal ads. That way, they wouldn't just say 'financially secure man seeks slim younger lady' or 'woman seeks same for wiccan adventures' they would have to say "ugly 50 year old man with one bedroom unit seeks intellectually challenged, slim playboy bunny, must be aged 18-20" or "short practicing satanist seeks victim."
It all makes me realise how much personal ads are like job ads. Job ads say things like 'exciting new company seeks young funsters for exciting marketing role' when they really mean 'evil corporation seeks low paid casual workers who will have to dress up as giant bananas and try to get strangers to give them money'
Imagine if they all had to be honest instead.
Everyone would get to spend a few hours of a boring Sunday morning laughing at the number of dirty old men and women seeking 'casual' workers and relationships with elfin beings half their age.
If they were seriously looking, people could have a fair idea of which character/physical flaws they could live with, and which ones they couldn't. For example "I think amputees are kind of cute, but I don't know about that comb-over " or "I can live with the idea of meeting a pedantic accountant with a serious body odour problem, but I won't meet her now that I know she is a member of the Liberal party".
And there we have it. Another pressing social problem solved as Fifi takes an afternoon break from her social science theory book.

moving sucks

I get to move into my new office tomorrow, yay! But. There is something about picking up all my posessions, putting them into dinky little boxes, then moving the dinky boxes somewhere else, that really annoys me.
Moving seems to conjure up bad moving spirits. The bad moving spirits get revenge by breeding with my stuff and increasing its volume by about a million times. There is something about moving stuff that always makes it take way longer than it reasonably should.
Of course, moving office is nothing like moving house. When I moved out of a one bedroom flat once, it took me about 12 hours, and 11 of those were packing up stupid things like drawers and potplants. Then I ended up paying the rent for another month anyway.
All of this making me want to renounce all posessions.
I want to live in a large, open space, preferably with very tall windows. I will own nothing except a futon and a toga, or some tribal type robes. And a wooden bowl.
I will wear the robe/toga garment during the day, and use it as a blanket at night. I will eat with my hands so I never have to use cutlery.
That'll show those bad moving spirits.

Its a cold, rainy day.

So I thought I'd put in a little something for people who appreciate fine looking men. Actually, old Hornie's looking a bit too much like Mick Jagger in this pic. Maybe he's just ambivalent about being exploited as a sex object.

Yoda-isms of my future night.

Gone from me, the writing mojo is.

To the Elephant and Wheelbarrow (daggy shite place that it is) Go must I.

Barking like a Seal, I am.

Feeling sexy, I am not.

Meeting cute boys, seeming unlikely is.

Meeting non-hot scottish backpackers who have never heard of Mogwai, likely is.

Drinking immense jugs of cider, I shall be.

I'm still alive...

... but only just. This is my third attempt at being 'better now'. I have some bizarre illness that takes the form of the common cold but has somehow made me totally un-functional for over a week now. I've only just stopped barking like a seal every time I try to talk. While I've been technically able to get out of bed, my motivation to be out of bed lasts me about as far as the
fireplace, recliner and Oprah.
Today I watched this weird episode of Dr Phil where they take these 35 year old women who have never been kissed, get them really drunk and send them on a cruise with about four men. Yuk!!! I'm sure that show actually made me even sicker!