My Little Zombie Finger

sock puppet blog

2009-01-22T19:20:00.002-05:00

Ok first blog for 2009.... this blog needs a theme. So my theme is sock puppets. Send me your pictures of sock puppets, and I will have cute sock puppet of the day every day

Rosie the Dog

2008-04-12T03:08:00.005-05:00

This morning when I walked my dog I realised I would never, ever fit into my suburb.

Before I left I picked an outfit. Most of my clothes were in my floordrobe, so I picked a t shirt I was given last election when I gave out how to vote cards.

My Mia Handshin 'Labor for Sturt' t-shirt is a fine t-shirt.

It's bright orange. No-one would ever hit you with their car wearing it. Actually it is flourescent orange, even more orange than my netball skirt and far more orange than an actual orange.

This was the only thought that went through my head when I put it on.

When I was walking in the park I saw this other dog playing in the middle of the road.

It was a very little, very girlie dog. And it was oblivious to the fact it was in the middle of the road. Clearly about to get hit by a rampaging four wheel drive. So I tied my dog to the fence and went to make friends with the lost dog.

It had no name tag on it, only the council tag. I thought about carrying it home because as I said it was a very small, girlie dog, but I thought I would see if I could find it's home first. When I walked up to it the dog rolled over on its tummy and whimpered at me, then followed me when I walked across to the other side.

I could here some people talking in a house. A man, in particular, whose voice was as camp as a row of tents. And lots of children.

I called out to the camp man 'excuse me, have you lost a dog?'

'No' he said. 'Hang on, does it look like a Jack Russell'

'Yep' I replied.

'OOOh! said the camp man. I think that is my dog'

Then the camp man came out of his house, chasing the dog.

'Rosie!!! Rosie' he called, flapping his arms in a very unmanly way. 'Rosie'.

Then he looked at me.

'You supported my opponent in the last election' he observed.

'I did' said I.

'I' he continued 'am Christopher Pyne'

I almost ran away.

That's when I realised I would never fit into my neighbourhood. Every blue ribbon, Liberal voting house of it.

It was so strange I even forgot to gloat. I wish I had said something like 'enjoying opposition ha ha...'. or 'Not so smug now are we?' but no, the words did not come out.

I like to think I would have returned the dog even if I did know whose dog it was. I am a dog lover, even if I detest the Liberal party and everything it stands for.

I even more wish I had got to return a better politician's dog. Maybe Greg Combet's dog? But then again if Greg had a dog he probably would look after it properly and not let it run onto roads.

Maybe the whole dog freedom thing merely represents Liberal party ideas about market freedom. Maybe Pyne thinks the dog should be free to choose whether it wishes to be run over or not, and that if every dog owner had a fence it could restrict the market share of Smackos. Or the market in new dogs?

Anyway, I'm moving to a Labor area as soon as I can. Or an area with a Socialist Alliance member, if I can find one.

Slim Dusty's Voice is Trapped in my Brain!

2008-01-16T03:27:00.001-05:00

I don't really want to but I think I might have to make a financial claim for my pain and suffering.

Recently I blogged about my recent journey on the Indian Pacific. How I thought it would be somewhere in between an Agatha Christie novel and the Raj. Nu-uh! It was sort of like being on a suburban train, like maybe the all stations to Penrith via Yagoona and Mount Colah. The suburban train experience was because a) the train never really went over 60km per hour, and there were frequent strange stops when the driver felt like he or she needed a nap. Anyway, enough bitchin.

The real reason I want to sue Great Southern Railways is that while travelling, I contracted a terrible disease. A brain-worm. A brain-worm is what happens when a song travels around your skull like a frustrated working sheepdog stuck in a suburban back-yard. Or like when a mosquito is trapped in your small kitchen and it buzzes around going NEEE! NEEEE!

My brain worm goes like this "The Indian Pacific Spans the Land" over and over again with bushwhackers style backing music. I hope it goes away soon!

The Darkest Material on Earth.

2008-01-16T03:16:00.000-05:00

Milwaukee's goth scene will never die!

US researchers say they have made the darkest material on Earth, a substance so black it absorbs more than 99.9 per cent of light. It's made, not from the tears of Robert Smith (that's goth juice hairspray) but from upright carbon fibres. The makers of the darkest material on earth are going to be ZILLIONAIRES!
Why?
Because emos the world over won't be able to get enough of it.
They can make clothes, hair dye, ugly platform boots with inexplicable, non-functional buckles. No goth or emo will be considered cool without The Darkest Material on Earth.
They can make vinyl bags, body piercings, guitars, outfits for Vince Noir.
A word of warning, though. According to the latest issue of Cheekbone, just delivered to me by ninja, it's already out of style.

The Train

2008-01-15T06:13:00.000-05:00

On Saturday night I had possibly the most un-rock and roll Saturday night. Of. My. Life.
It was the Indian Pacific's fault.
The night of horrors started just after we pulled out of Sydney's Central Station, and the loud speakers crackled to life. They spawned a soundtrack of terror- voiced by BOTH Slim Dusty and Bud Tingwell. Obviously designed to appeal to folks like my dear grandfather, who sit there in their Gold Kangaroo class sleepers reminiscing about the war. I think people like that probably like Slim Dusty and Bud Tingwell. Ol Bud is supposed to be a much loved actor, by the way. I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him in anything. Didn't he die recently?
Anyway, Slim has written a whole song about the Indian Pacific. I know all the words now! I think I will have to have a conversation about that with my counsellor, I feel I've been scarred for life.
After we crossed the Blue Mountains (at walking pace, goddamm, or indeed walker pace) the real fun started. The foetal position, Will This Ever End, Oh My God, sciatica inducing horrible pain of the Day/Night Sleeper. While the gin-soaked sots in their sleeper carriages stretched their legs and massaged themselves with moisturiser from their free Indian Pacific toilet bags, I tried to sleep. It was OK until the bastard next to me started snoring.
I started to fantasise about clobbering him on the head with one of my thongs. Thinking about it like I was some sort of creepy stalking serial killer, debating with my creepier instincts. Then my id got the better of my good manners.
"Oi!" I said. "Mate", I said. "YOU SNORE REALLY LOUDLY IN THAT POSITION!" I snapped. "I just thought I'd tell you" I continued feebly. "Sorry" he said "I don't usually sleep like this". No you don't... because it is totally inhuman and horrible!
One of my friends used to work on the trains, and she said the train people partied really hard, all night every night. Now I know why... they can't bloody sleep!
The first night in my own bed, I slept for eleven and a half hours. That was more like it.
Next time, It's Gold Kangaroo gin sottism all the way! Or, I'll fly in an aeroplane like sensible people!

The election

2007-12-19T07:08:00.001-05:00

I am so, so, happy that Labor won. So's big Kev.
yay yay yay yay!
Take that you miserable old bastard! Kev and Julia, you rock. While you'll probably not actually abolish capitalism and set fire to the Business Council of Australia, I like you anyway.

I haven't forgotten about my blog, I haven't!

2007-12-19T07:01:00.000-05:00

I was on the phone to Optus this morning when I had a scary ageing experience. Only recently recovered from the trauma of 'going up a box' from 18-24 into 25-34 (I know I can't complain) the Optus lady believed me when I said I was a 56 year old woman! Due to various bureaucratic sillies, the internet account has to be in the name of the phone account holder. That's my mum, born in 1950. So when I rang up, and I gave my birthdate as January 1950, the optus lady didn't even pause. She just believed me. I sounded like I could plausibly born in 1950, the same year John Howard froze his mojo and the same decade it was cool to wear pointy bras.
Ouch.
She didn't say 'Don't be ridiculous, I can tell that you are actually an overgrown teenager'. She didn't say 'Now dear, is your mum there?' No, she just belived me.
Oh, my lost youth!

Hydro-lord The Game

2007-11-06T03:20:00.000-05:00

I don't live in Glenelg, but I found one somewhere in the depths of Magill. Thankyou mysterious hydro-lord delivery force!

I got one!!!!

2007-11-06T03:12:00.000-05:00

Here is a picture of prizewinning wowser, David Smith with his free copy of Hydro Lord The Game. Ingrate. Doesn't he know it would have cost him $30 at the shops?
Here's the article that appeared in the local paper.

Drug-themed game put in 20 driveways

Article by Adam Todd
The Messenger (Adelaide) 23Oct07.

David Smith with the board game Hydro Lord, which was found in the front yards of at least 20 homes in Glenelg East. Picture: Neale Winter
A BIZARRE marijuana-themed board game has been mysteriously delivered to at least 20 Glenelg East residents. The game, Hydro Lord, is a Monopoly-style game where players have to buy hydroponic set-ups, then harvest and sell the marijuana.More than 20 copies of the game, which is covered in images of marijuana leaves, were dumped last Thursday (October 18) in the front yards of several houses in Fifth Ave, Sixth Ave and Keen Ave, Glenelg East.Glenelg East resident David Smith discovered the boxes on Thursday while delivering magazines to letterboxes.``I just started seeing more and more of them, they were in driveways, on the footpath... there had to be at least 20,'' he said.Mr Smith, who has a son, 5, said he was concerned for any children who may have come across the game.The aim of the game is to buy hydroponic set-ups, survive without being caught by police for four months, harvest the crop and reap the cash.Hydro Lord's website claims it is ``an exhilirating (sic) board game that takes you into the lucrative money making world of hydroponics; the trials and tribulations, the highs and of course the lows''.The game's box also carries a warning: ``The game accepts no responsibility for ideas players may acquire during the game.''Mr Smith called police, who collected all visible copies of the game from front yards.``They said they'd never seen anything like it before,'' Mr Smith said.Police at Glenelg Police Station told the Guardian Messenger they had never heard of the game and would launch an investigation into the matter.Sturt Police Chief Inspector Les Buckley, who took over the investigation, did not return the Guardian Messenger's inquiries before deadline.The Guardian Messenger attempted to contact the makers of the game through their website but they did not respond.

There are some things I like about Australia.

2007-10-11T05:26:00.000-05:00

Australia, Australia. There are some things I hate about it, like Quadrant magazine and the Young Liberals.* I think Prince Charles... whoops, Kevin Adrews' comments about Sudanese migrants are shameful and ignorant. Somehow I don't think he spent his childhood in a dangerous refugee camp! Anyway, these issues are serious. They are enough to make me move to a less racist and narrow minded country, like maybe somewhere in Scandinavia.

But there are one or two things I do like about Australia. This one is from The Australian...

"Australian doctors used an intravenous feed of vodka to keep an Italian tourist alive after he consumed large quantities of a poisonous substance.
The 24-year-old man, in an apparent bid at self-harm, had swallowed ethylene glycol, found in antifreeze, which can cause death.
Doctors administered pure alcohol, the conventional antidote, but exhausted the hospital's supply.
Desperate to continue the treatment the doctors at Mackay Base Hospital in Queensland state hooked up an intravenous feed of vodka, hospital officials said."

Woo Hoo! I'm going out to get some antifreeze right now!!!

*I'm going to the Young Liberals ball next year, it will be soooo funny! I just need to figure out how to get tickets. If anyone can help me out, I will be so grateful!

Where are all the lounge bars?

2007-10-09T07:19:00.000-05:00

I know I live in Adelaide, but some issues are so important they concern all Australians.

"Former Prime Minister Paul Keating told the NSW Government last week that "the pub culture in Sydney is stultifyingly bad" and the "hotel warlords" were out to stymie reform."

Too right Paul. Where are all the lounge bars indeed?

I am glad to see that the Iemma government is finally taking action on the important issues, and taking measures to encourage smaller, more intimate venues to open in Sydney.

After all, I am a Sydneysider born and bred (if now inexplicably living in SA of all places) and I

might want to go back there one day.

Will George do an Osama video for Johnny?

2007-09-11T00:40:00.000-05:00

I have a new theory, that is probably completely unoriginal, that the Osama videos are actually being produced by the American government in order to justify their bad habit of invading other countries.
As the famous saying goes 'When women get depressed, they buy new shoes. When men get depressed, they invade another country"
Anyway, we were talking at work the other day and saying that the only thing that can make John Howard win the election is a terrorist attack. Even a video would probably do it... so I wonder if George will make Johnny an Osama video.
Ps Osama looks so silly with a dyed beard, I want to ring him and say no, osama, this year is all about the silver fox look, don't do it!

My ghost

2007-08-13T03:01:00.000-05:00

I live in a girl's room who is on holidays. It is so wierd living someone else's life. I eat her food (she said it was OK) I hang out with her flatmate (he is emo), I read her books. Some are good, like feminist books and travel books. I have also found some funny books (Cosmo sex positions guide and a volume of Ayn Rand plays). I get her mail (a newsletter from her posh private school), and I get her debts (she didn't leave money for any bills that arrived after she left but for which she was responsible). I laugh at her (she has a sparkle garden for goodness' sake, this is a collection of disco balls hanging in the garden, it is so ugly!); she is super-organised with little clear boxes for everything, and I am sometimes sad for her (she has a few books on how to deal with break-ups). I sleep in her bed, but I reject her sheets because they aren't Sheridan (I seriously hate cheap sheets). Even though I know her more thoroughly than many other people in my life, I have only met her once. I didn't like her all that much actually, she seemed too into being a vegan.

the athiest game

2007-08-13T02:51:00.000-05:00

I was in the pub with my friends on Saturday night. I was talking about athiesm with my friend Log, who is an athiest too. I said that you can tell who is definitely an athiest, or definitely not an athiest, just by their appearance. He didn't believe me at first. But I was totally right! Log asked me to pick out a person who was definitely not an athiest. I picked a sort of simple, happy looking guy and bingo, we asked him the question and he said he was a Lutheran. Then we tried it again with about three other people. They were all either athiests or not athiests, whatever we said they would be. It was amazing! Basically how to do is it that people who have big dark rimmed glasses are athiests (this does not work on pictures from the 50s, when all people had big dark rimmed glasses, like Billy Graham)
Try it at at a pub near you!

State Politician of the Month

2007-06-11T06:49:00.001-05:00

This month's State Politican of the Month is Ian Hunter, who bears the noble crown previously awarded on this website to Ann Bressington and Sandra Kanck. Go South Australian politics.

I found this in The Advertiser, no snidey pinko comment necessary because we've already said it all...

A LABOR MP has described parliamentary prayers as an "archaic practice" and a waste of time, angering fellow politicians.
Legislative Council backbencher Ian Hunter wrote a letter to The Advertiser after it was reported he was reading a book during prayers.
"Of course, as an atheist, I don't say prayers," he said.
"I see them as just one more example of an archaic practice which wastes the time of MPs.
"However, I am a polite fellow generally, and rather than cause a fuss for my colleagues who may take some comfort in such practices at the commencement of each parliamentary session, I prefer to improve my mind by reading."

Go Ian Hunter!

Hi Sandra!

2007-06-10T07:27:00.000-05:00

This is not a dream. This really happened.

Sandra Kanck is a favourite politician of mine. She supports euthanasia, safe drug use and is against the war. She does a lot of progressive stuff. Also, at school roll call she would have been S.Kanck, which is pretty cool too.
So anyway, the other day I was a bar wench at a function. I have always wanted to be a barmaid, so this was pretty fun. It was like, one for you... one for me... one for you... two for me. So anyway Sandra Kanck comes up to the bar, which sounds like the start of a brilliant Irish joke. So anyway Sandra Kanck comes up to the bar. And I was like "Hiiiii Sandra!!!!" and introduced myself. She looked a bit surprised, like she doesn't usually get that sort of rock star response. She said hello back and things, and then she sort of looked at me in a serious way. Then she said "do you have anything with no carbs in it?" I didn't even know you could get carbs in alcohol, because I don't pay much attention to crappy food fads. So I said "I don't know..." so she asked for water or orange juice. I really wanted to offer a joint but I didn't really have one, so I didn't ask in case she said yes. And that, dear reader, is my Sandra Kanck story.

Everyone needs slim slime

2007-05-29T08:57:00.000-05:00

http://www-robot.mes.titech.ac.jp/robot/snake/slim_slime/slim_slime_e.html

This is the coolest website ever. It belongs to a Japanese company who make 'slim slime' a robot for helping people. I think it looks like the silver cord things in Donnie Darko.

I can also think of a few other things it looks like but that would be wrong, wrong wrong.

Go to this website! You won't regret it.

I think all the psy trance and Neil Young I have been downloading have somehow mated in my brain to create a trippy yet relaxed mindset. On yoghurt, and apple juice I ask you.

Slim slime robots are the way of the future.

John Riley

2007-05-23T02:58:00.000-05:00

This song has been covered by everyone from the Byrds to Joan Baez and even Odetta (who has sort of been forgotten about but I have one of her records... she plays guitar). It's the one I was talking about in the last entry.

Fair young maid all in her garden
Strange young man came riding by
Saying: fair young maid, will you marry me?
This then, sir, was her reply

Oh no, kind sir, I cannot marry thee
For Ive a love who sails the deep salt sea
Though hes been gone these seven years
Still no man shall marry me

What if hes died all in some battle slain
Or if hes drownded in, in the deep salt sea?
What if hes found some other love
He and his new love both married be?

If hes found some other love
He and his new love both married be
I wish them health and happiness
Where they have love far across the sea

He picked her up all in his arms
And kisses gave her one, two and three
Then weep no more, my own true love
I am your long lost John Riley
Saying: weep no more, my own true love

For I'm your long lost John Riley

Night persons

2007-05-23T02:43:00.000-05:00

There is a wierd timing imbalance in my office. No, not the menstrual kind, but the kind of morning person evening person stuff. I come in at 11, bleary eyed and not functioning properly, and they're all ready to go home because they got there at six am. Meanwhile at five I'm just getting into my stride. Yet I look like some sort of workoholic psycho-loser with no life (actually that's true) just because I don't have to go home to cook a meal for a bunch of screaming kiddies, so I stay at work and do worky stuff until it's later, so I don't have to go home. If only I actually did worky stuff. Actually, I feel so sorry for myself working late that I just look at dating sites to try and look for people I know in Adelaide. Aah the joys of living in a small city/big country town! I saw a bloke I know... we'll call him Bob... on the web, it was funny because his profile actually was a fair representation of his kindly but depressed personality. He didn't lie about anything that I could notice. And no, I don't have a profile. Even though I secretly think it might be fun, I would be too scared that someone I know would look at it and laugh at me for being on there. Although, the funny thing is that I would have to ask, why were they there? And then I worry about myself even more because then I wonder if just subconsciously don't want to meet anyone because I still think my life is some sort of English folk song about a woman who waits for her sailor man... who comes back in the end. Not that I'm pining for anyone in the Navy at the moment, although maybe that would be a good way to get myself in a great unrequited love situation.... and I've heard that if you live with someone in the Navy you get a rent discount... that is a good plan!

I mean really

2007-05-23T02:42:00.001-05:00

Anti drugs campaigner

2007-05-16T23:42:00.000-05:00

This is South Australia's most enthusiastic anti-drugs campaigner. She is associated with the religious Right including the Festival of Light movment. But look at her. Has she always beeen this anti-drugs? Or did she live a life of sin, debauchery and too much tatooed on eyeliner before she was saved?

On togas.

2007-04-25T20:45:00.000-05:00

I had a dream where I needed to go to a job interview. As usual, I was running late. I was wearing a disgusting full length not-exactly clean light blue flanelette nightie (which I actually do own in real life). So I made a toga out of gold/green brocade curtains (which I actually do own in real life) and put it on over the nightie. I thought no one would notice, but they did.

Toga parties rock. There's something liberating about wearing bed sheets. I actually think togas should be mandatory for job interviews. Everyone would be more relaxed. And you could go straight to a toga party afterwards without having to get changed.

Me and Vince Noir.

2007-04-23T01:23:00.000-05:00

By the way, it's true about me and Vince Noir.

Fifi's Rules for Healthy Eating:

2007-04-23T01:17:00.000-05:00

1. Eat meat and fish. Lots of meat. All day. Or you'll die. Ideally, have bacon and eggs for breakfast, sashimi for lunch and steak wrapped in bacon for dinner. Quail is a good plan for entrée, and duck is the best food of all time.
2. Chocolate is good. Forms of chocolate which combine truffle, white chocolate and some form of liqueur, are the most nutritious.
3. Red wine is good. Make sure you get rat-arsed at least once a day.
4. Cream is good. Preferably the double creamy King Island sort.
5. Fruit is best eaten in the form of lychee cocktails, banana milkshakes, apple sauce and raspberries served on ice-cream.
6. Offal is an underrated food. We should all eat more offal, especially in the form of duck liver and port pate. Liverwurst is the best thing ever.
7. No food is truly healthy unless it contains alcohol. Try putting red wine into spag boll, port into sauces and white wine into stir fries. Any form of food will taste better if alcohol is added to it.
8. Margarine is bullshit. Eat butter. There's no strange chemicals, and it tastes better. Eat more ghee.
9. Incorporate mushrooms into every meal. Every. Meal.
10. Eat more goulash.
11. If food smells off, don't throw it away. What about those starving children in Africa? Curry it instead. No-one will notice.
12. Fish is good. Raw fish is better. Especially salmon.
13. Any meal will taste better with oysters.
14. Lots of food tastes better with a teaspoon of sugar, just like Mary Poppins suggested. Try this with carrots, goulash and thai curries.
15. Make your own stock. It will taste better.
16. Try eating hippies. You will get lots of nutrients from textured soy protein, wheat germ (yuk) and other things you would never want to eat yourself.
17. Steak is rarely as healthy as when it's charred on the BBQ and gooey red inside.
18. Meat is healthier and tastes better extremely rare. If it moos, wear ear plugs.
19. Add marijuana to your baking. Think of it as a useful food additive. Your guests will be more relaxed and laugh at all your jokes. This is very healthy.
20. Avoid all pretendy meat products like 'vegetarian sausages' and 'vegie patties'. They are made from a combination of lentils, ethanol and used rubber thongs. They are not at all healthy.
21. Cream, alcohol, bacon, rib eye steak, butter, mushrooms, Worcestershire sauce and garlic are the ideal foods. Steak Diane, therefore, is the ideal meal.
22. The two fat ladies are GURUS. Game meats rock.
23. Make sure you have a glass of champagne every day.

Secret confessions of a second rate socialist.

2007-04-10T00:19:00.000-05:00

Even if I want to be able to choose between different brands of say, lipstick, I think things like health care, education and the water supply probably shouldn't be left to the vicious, twisted bird of prey we call market forces. I hate that companies chase ever-increasing profits at workers' expense. So really, I'm not exactly Capitalism's best friend.
But even while I believe all this, there is a little sick part of my brain that spent over an hour this morning looking at Jaguar XK8s (second hand, of course. That's recycling. Recycling is green right?). This is the same part that insists that shampoo from the hairdresser is way better than from the supermarket, which is way, way better than rinsing my hair in dish detergent which apparently is the same chemical, but 5,620% cheaper.
Why is consumerism so seductive?

Question of the day

2007-03-28T20:04:00.000-05:00

I was sitting in the bath last night enjoying the sound of rain on the iron roof of the house. Then something happened to disrupt my serenity. It was a dripping tap. It was horrible. Drip. Splat. At uneven intervals. And it just made me wonder, why is rain on a metal roof one of the best sounds ever, when a dripping tap is so annoying? Why doesn't falling rain sound like a million dripping taps?

I hate writing

2007-03-20T00:27:00.000-05:00

I hate writing. I am absolutely terrified of putting down my crappy thoughts on paper for others to view with their judging eyes. I really really try. But I still hate it. I don't know how things can sound so original in my head and yet look so banal on my screen. This is so horribly painful. I want to work with plants.

Sienna Miller, I hate your fashion!

2007-03-06T23:11:00.000-05:00

Dear Sienna Miller,

I had a dream about you the other night. Don't worry, it wasn't a rude one. What happened was, I dreamt that you worked at my research centre, at the other end of my office. One day, you were arriving at work and I could see you below my window walking through the car park. I opened the window and screamed out "Sienna Miller, I HATE YOUR FASHION" This is only partly true. I think I would prefer to say that I don't think you are particularly an amazing fashion icon, but then again neither are most people and I don't think I would really use the word hate in that situation. I don't think it is responsible to bring monochromatic rags back into fashion though.

Fifi-Belle

Ode to the Stalactite Cave at the AAC

2007-03-06T23:02:00.000-05:00

This blog entry is about how much I love the fibreglass mud cave structure at the Adelaide Aquatic Centre. We are entering an age of shiny space age architecture where everything is made of stainless steel. Everything is angular, ice coloured, non slip and minimalist. Not the crazy mud cave, where for no particular reason an otherwise sensible, functional swimming pool building turn brown and starts oozing stalactites of brown plastic from the ceiling. Or stalagmites? There's even a shower (unused) there.
It's comforting to know that Magic Mountain might be gone, but there's still a little piece of tacky plasic heaven left in Adelaide.

Vice Regal Column

2007-02-28T23:27:00.000-05:00

I love vice regal columns. That few millimetres of column on the back of any major newspaper. I am so glad to know that the Queen's representatives in Australia aren't wasting the tax I don't pay.
Today's VR column in the Age was excellent. The Governer, Sir Blah Blah, went to some place where he chatted on the phone to the Peruvian Ambassador. Or in The Advertiser, The Governer, Dame Whatsername, hosted a tea party and went for a walk to the deli.
I love it. Don't ever change!

Adventures of an unconvincing drag queen.

2007-02-21T20:44:00.000-05:00

I have had a bizarre morning trying to get people to be in a newspaper article about my project. Last night the journalist rang me and said her editor was OK to do a story and could I please find three young people to be photographed.
I had to go around the campus with a flyer trying to find people in their twenties and thirties, no easy task when everyone looks about 12! And they're all girls! Anyway I found myself accosting random tradies working at the uni. At one stage a guy in his thirties came out of a lecture to go to the loo and I forced him to take one of my flyers. He looked so scared!
I meanwhile was feeling silly because I put my makeup on with a trowel this morning in anticipation of being photographed, so all the people probably just thought I was a drag queen!
A not very convincing drag queen at that.

Christians and Apples

2007-02-18T21:00:00.000-05:00

It's my 6th ever university O week this week, and I'm a bit over it. I am experiencing that feeling everyone gets when the students are always 18 years old and you (lecturer, staff member or other) are aging. But there were a few highlights:
Christian groups handing out apples to tempt vulnerable new students/babies. Do they get the significance of the serpent/apple/eve scenario? Or are they just encouranging people to be healthy?
Computer companies trying to sell stuff. Students buying their own computers on student incomes, Hello?
Students bringing their mums. Hello?
Students being picked up by their mums outside my office. Although, I have been known to get my mum to pick me up too, and that's even more sad because I'm a postgrad.
The fact that the young guys (not that there are many) actually look embryonic to me now rather than cute. It occurs to me that it's not fair how young women are seen as the most attractive of women, yet young men all have pimples, bad haircuts and, like males of other age groups, are frequently obnoxious and no older woman (except Demi Moore) would even want one.

Why I'm glad my mother called me Fifi-belle

2007-01-31T01:31:00.000-05:00

Researching for my PhD, I remembered that I have to think of pseudonyms for my participants. I decided the best way to do this was to look at the lists of popular babies’ names for the year the people were born. Not that there was going to be anyone born in 2006 in my study, but I had a squiz at the 2006 girls’ names list anyway.

I was disturbed. The names ranged from the pretty conventional: Laura Emily, Jessica sort of names to the just completely wrong and strange names. Or maybe the names themselves weren’t too weird, but you just know what primary school will be like for the poor kids. Like Angelina. Nice name, bad celebrity associations. Tia. Great, but she will be called Tia Maria forever.

Jordan. Will the other kids think of the Middle Eastern nation, or she of the giant boobies? Makayla. What the???? Isn’t that meant to be Michaela??? I can understand that maybe the odd bogan floozie would get the spelling wrong, but how have so many people made that mistake? Ditto Georgia (high up the list) and her ‘wrong side of the tracks’ sister, Jorja. Unless Jorja is from a South American family and has a brother called Jorge. And then there’s the Madison/Maddison dilemma.

Mackenzie. How girlie, not. It sounds like a company that would sell clothing in saddleries along with Akubra hats, Drizabones and Blunnies. Charli: makes me think it should be in the middle of a long series of names that starts with Eponee-Ray and has Darlene in there somewhere, along with Tayla, which was mid-way down the list. Joria? I have actually never heard of that name. I hope its ethnic and therefore an actual name, somewhere. Hmmm. Ditto Taya. Wasn’t that the name of the geeky girl in Clueless?

Sienna is so high on the list. Why? Her dress sense isn’t that great guys!
I think the office of Births, Deaths Marriages (and Gender Re-assignment registrations in WA) really needs to have a section where mothers who want to inflict names like Jordan on their kids need to provide a well argued justification, (if this is even possible) and otherwise be politely asked to re-think their decision.

Starting, obviously, by back dating this rule to 1982.

don't laugh at bogans.

2007-01-22T21:28:00.000-05:00

Don't laugh at bogans. Not even during the car races in Adelaide city when they are running around everywhere. Do you know that there even is a real place called Bogan Shire?

About Bogan Shire (http://bogan.local-e.nsw.gov.au/about.html)

Bogan Shire, situated in Western New South Wales, has an area of 14,610 square kilometres, equivalent to about 1.8% of the State's land surface. Please click on http://www.nynganarea.visitnsw.com/ for direct access to the Tourism in Bogan Shire NSW gateway for our region and surrounding areas.

So there you go.

boar it up ya

2007-01-21T19:22:00.000-05:00

Dear Readers, I have a confession to make. I am oficially more of a bogan than anyone knew.

Do you know that there is not one but two magazines in the Regent Arcade newsagency specialising in wild boar hunting!

Boar it up ya: The most diverse and easy to read pig hunting magazine available in Australia.
Australian Hunters & Their Stories
Win Rifles, Dog Rack Systems, Trackers Systems and lots more...

This magazine is so cool. I am going to subscribe. I don't know what I will read first, the hot chicks posing with pit bulls page, the 'what knife' page, or the article comparing the merits of bull arab crosses versus pit bulls. Maybe I'll read all the stories about billy-bob and Wazza's trip up the territory to hunt pigs in their sick new ute. Or the page where hunters get their little kids to pose with the carcasses of giant enormous dead feral pigs with tusks longer than chopsticks. It's so cool. I'm not just talking mini-bogan little boys with mullets and earrings, I'm talking little blonde girls with pony-tails dressed in pink. Posing next to massive hairy dead pigs.

I don't know if I'll have that much time to read in the future though, I think a lot of my time will be taken up by my new job as a calendar model for 'chicks with guns' a quality publication in need of an underwear model or two.

Jacuzzi Men

2007-01-16T20:22:00.000-05:00

The patriarchy is alive and well!
One of the most annoying ways the patriarchy asserts its testosterone fuelled self-appointed authority is at the Burnside swimming pool.
Men, (never, ever once have I seen a woman doing this) seem to think its OK to lounge at the end of the lap lanes and talk about what hardcore swimmers they are (but never actually swim a lap)Meanwhile, the people who actually want to swim laps are kept from getting to the end of the pool by the invisible force field that is the extensive personal space of the jacuzzi men. Its not a bloody jacuzzi alright!
When a woman needs to recover at the end of the pool, she will usually get right to the edge of the lane so other swimmers can comfortably get past.
And I also hate that ugly man with the unkempt beard who thinks its OK to swim a lethargic side stroke and therefore take 15 minutes to swim a lap. In front of me. Loser.

why is it?

2007-01-11T22:26:00.000-05:00

Why is it that I will be an absolute nigel no friends for weeks on end, and then get invited to two or three good parties that happen to be on the same night? Since I've been studing and forgotten who most of my friends are, way too many of my Saturday nights are all about me, the dog, an outdated Australian Women's Weekly and an over-full glass of port. Then, when I've decided to change my name to Ethel and start working in a library again, there will be all these events on.

Why is it that my cheap linen pants decided to explode and create an enormous and spectactular hole in them, when I had to walk past a building site this morning?

Why is it that I can't stop myself from using phrases like 'um' and 'you know' when I want to sound all professional?

Greg for PM

2006-12-20T02:16:00.000-05:00

I swear I did not put these on EVERY SINGLE TOILET DOOR at uni. Really. No it wasn't me. But the person who had this idea is definitely a legend.

Cheep Cheep!

2006-12-20T01:34:00.000-05:00

Today I had one of those moments when you realise something bad about yourself. I realised that being part Viking and part Polish villager has its down side. From the Viking heritage, we have a desire to rape and pillage. From the Polish villager side, we have extreme thriftiness. So, I found myself pillaging a half-drunk bottle of white wine from the restaurant where we had a work dinner. It was a screw top, and it was there! I wasn't going to leave it there was I? They might just pour it down the drain!
I also realised that this was something more than an isolated incident. Once I took home half a blue cheese from a cheese platter the Scenic Hotel in Norton Summit because I wasn't going to leave it there was I? Ditto the half-eaten lamb chop (It was for the dog!!) the numerous barbeque sausages and the half used Melboure tram ticket that I might need one day even though I live 800 kilometres away.
I have expensive items of clothing that look shocking on me but I am not! going to give them away because I haven't worn them yet and maybe one day I'll be a size 10 again. I have books on queer theory that I know I am never going to read but I don't want to give them away. I re-use wrapping paper. And Christmas cards. And Christmas presents I didn't like last year, like candles. What's with candles!
At least I'm not like my grandmother yet. She'll be at an Op-shop and see a designer dress in her size and her favourite colour, that looks really good on, and she'll be like "two dollars! I'm not paying two dollars!"
No, I always go to three dollars for things like that.

The One Thing I Never Could Stomach about Southampton was All the Damn Vampires

2006-12-18T23:49:00.000-05:00

I found this sentence on the web. It was about someone complaining about people in pubs playing live roleplay games. I agree. Don't they realise how silly they look?

Bad Beefcake.

2006-12-14T21:55:00.000-05:00

In an office with 10 women (and one very quiet, unobtrusive man) it was only inevitable that the topic of beefcake would arise at lunchtime:

"Beefcake: often used to denote male sexual attractiveness stemming from physical build... The word can also be used for a (male)body or physique, a (male) sex symbol or more generally a man, and as an adjective meaning burly, muscular, manly, virile etc."

Wikipedia

Our only man, a visiting Associate Professor from Japan, needed to look up the word in his english/japanese electronic dictionary.

The only thing funnier than beefcake is bad beefcake. Bad beefcake is bad taste crush. Our workplace examples include: the badly facelifted Sly Stallone (for SHAME), the lovely balding Bruce Willis (never fall in love with a man called Bruce) and the just totally inexplicable... Storm Boy (although the Storm Boy fan was admittedly 12 at the time.) Not that I can talk obviously.

The beefcake theme just made me wonder if men, too, have a problem with bad woman beefcake. Do they ever sheepishly blush over their tuna salad and talk about the time they were in love with Amanda Vanstone? Do they have a few VBs and tell all their friends about how they secretly think Kerry Ann Kennerly is a bit of alright?

So I throw a challenge to everyone who ever reads this blog (yes, that's both of you)... what is your best example of bad beefcake love?

sorry, I forgot I had a blog

2006-12-11T01:59:00.000-05:00

hmmm, I'm obviously very committed to this blogging business.

Unfortunately, the excitement of IR laws, young adult underemployment, ending capitalism and heated work discussions about beefcake was just too much for me.

My first inspiration for this blog was pretty lame, something like 10 things I hate about Christmas or 10 best cocktails for getting off one's tits at New Years. But lists (and I'm a Virgo and I do love lists, even if I don't believe whatsoever in astrology) are such a crap excuse for a blog.

So here's something even more lame than a list...

The majority of young adults do work full time. As with other areas of employment, participation in full time work is highly gendered with men having consistently greater access to full-time work: In 2005, 71.6 per cent of men aged 20-24 worked full time compared with 60.8 per cent of women. The gap is wider for workers in their late twenties and early thirties: in the 25-34 age range, 91.3 per cent of men worked full-time compared with only 65.2 per cent of women.

FULL-TIME EMPLOYEES(a): HOURS PREFERENCES(b)....

I think next blog's going to be about beefcake, and how beefcake doesn't count as a stationary item. Maybe even, how elderly yet somehow spunky ACTU personalities don't count as beefcake...

10 signs you had a big night last night.

2006-11-21T00:52:00.000-05:00

You have mysterious cuts and bruises that appear to have come from that spiky bush you decided to wee in.
There are more empties on the floor of the car than there is carpet.
You think you might have used the phrase 'I love you maaaan' more than is usually appropriate.
You only have one shoe.
Your mouth feels like something died in it, possibly a spring lamb or two.
You can't form a sentence. For three days.
You're voice is hoarse from singing along to November Rain, Sweet Child of Mine and Paradise City at least four times each.
One of your mates is still asleep on the lawn, snoring like an animal giving birth to a chair.
There are at least 10 half-remembered incidents that need to be put in order like a surrealist jigsaw involving wineries, sheep, pub-dwelling bogans and hot dudes with maori tattoos.
There's a wizened, toothless she-drunk with bad hair in your bed. You freak out until you realise you're looking in a mirror. Then freak out again.

Who wants cake?

2006-11-14T23:37:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Canadian TV show Strangers With Candy, I know that anyone could secretly be a retard. And that they're just like everyone else, and may or may not be gay.
I have some great retarded moments. This morning, I struggled with the English word for tea towel for about three minutes... while making wierd gurgling noises. That wouldn't be as sad if English wasn't my native language. I blame it on an insufficient supply of instant coffee.

At netball the other day I had another one. In netball, you're not allowed to swear, take more than one step, or throw the ball to yourself (I think). That's why I was pretty proud of myself for catching the ball, dropping it, picking it up again, trying to throw it to someone in front of me and actually chucking it backwards between my knees. Swearing. While stumbling backwards.

I feel like the more I do on my PhD, the less I can function in daily life. I feel like my academic IQ may be getting higher, but my IQ all the rest of the time is dropping faster than Debbie's dacks in Dallas. So to speak. Maybe its going to be a bit like Flowers for Algernon, where the newly genius scientist acutally discovers his own mental disintegration. Anyway, I'm off to get some cake now.

PS Ryan, if you're reading this, I'm still working on your birthday present and you're going to love it.

How To Pick Up a Sailor

2006-10-31T02:14:00.000-05:00

Waiting for a lift home from work, I stumbled across how to dot com and found this great article...

How to Pick Up a Sailor

Difficulty: Moderately Easy

If a mate in uniform is who you seek, go where the sailors go....
Instructions

STEP 1: Visit port towns or cities with large, rotating sailor populations.
STEP 2: Frequent bar and restaurant establishments in the vicinity of docking areas.
STEP 3: Visit areas that hold Fleet Week celebrations or similar U.S. Navy-based military events.
STEP 4: Keep apprised of current world affairs and the U.S. military's involvement in those affairs.
STEP 5: Learn key sailing terms and become well-versed in navy terminology.
STEP 6: Get a clerical job in the U.S. Navy so that you will have access to ship schedules and personnel records. But don't be a stalker; the Pentagon might be watching.

Tips & Warnings
Popular U.S. Navy port cities include San Diego; Houston; Pensacola, Florida; Jacksonville, Florida; and more.

The usual rules of dating apply, even when sailors are involved. Make sure you get to know your sailor before you get into any compromising situations.

Overall Things You'll Need

Binoculars
Breath Fresheners
Perfume
Lip Gloss
Maps
Cameras

2006-10-27T02:49:00.000-05:00

I've just had a clever idea. It's based on my earlier theory that Kath and Kim is a good guide to life. I'm already playing netball like Sharon (and I'm still not very good at it). I'm already dressing like Kim. Now the next step is to find a man like Kel. I'm not talking about an actual 50 year old with really bad hair. I'm talking Kel if he was hot and a lot, lot younger. This is because Kel is a butcher. And I am far from vegetarian. Kel has a butcher's shop. This is good for many reasons. Those reasons are steak, pork, mince, duck, sausages, chickens, bacon, spare ribs, fillet steak, sirloin steak, t-bone steak, veal, schnitzel, quail, mince, roasts, silverside...
I would save literally thousands of dollars a year. I would be able to have BBQs for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I would be a happy woman.

Just Call Me Sharon

2006-10-16T20:16:00.000-05:00

I played a game of netball last night.
It was fun in a horrible sort of way. First I got a uniform: bright orange netball skirt: size 20! and it just fitted! In normal clothes, I wear an Australian 12 or so. (Where does Sharon from Kath and Kim buy her skirts?) Then I got a black (not white, yes yes yes!) polo shirt. Fortunately the giant skirt was longer than the average netball skirt, to the relief of the random guys watching the game from an old commodore with dark tinted windows. It wouldn't have mattered how short it was, because I invested in a giant pair of full briefs just in case I flashed anyone.
Then I had to actually play. The referee very kindly explained to me all the rules I was breaking, and the rest of my team didn't sigh too loudly when I let the other team get goals and/or actually threw the ball out of the court. The goal shooter I was defending came up to my elbows, which didn't make it any easier for me because she just shot goals underneath my flailing arms.
Any guy who thinks netball is hot should not come and see me play. My hair plastered itself to my head, my face went the colour of tomato paste and I found myself swearing under my breath like a really coarse wharfie. I was so unfit that by the end of the first quarter I just wanted to pass out then and there. My lungs felt like I had just inhaled hot coals.
The other team were totally laughing at me. Of course, it could just be my interpretation that the other team were evil bitch molls and my team were all top sheilas.
Afterwards I borrowed anti-inflamatory drugs from my poor arthritic old mother to help the pain in my poor injured body. The drugs caused me to hallucinate that there was a mummified body on my bedroom floor with staring eyes.
I can barely walk today. And I have to go to training again on Wednesday. Hopefully, that will be fun in a slightly less horrible way. If I go.

Bloody builders II

2006-09-27T00:26:00.000-05:00

I think the builders just dropped a grand piano on the roof of my office. And they are singing falsetto duets.

Update

2006-09-27T00:18:00.000-05:00

Bloody builders are on the roof of my office now. They are singing falsetto duets. This is hell.

Squeeeek

2006-09-26T00:03:00.000-05:00

In the last few weeks my life has been assailed by new, bizarre noises. Its not just the experimental prog/electronica I listen to on the radio. Its builders. They're worse than possums. One bloke on our roof at the moment seems to be getting ready to audition for 'Priscilla: The Musical'. Every morning, he performs death-defying feats of falsetto while fixing our air conditioner. The air conditioner itself is a great source of bizarre noise. When on, it sounds like a 1960s soviet aircraft carrier is taking off in the middle of the room. Somehow, there are new weird noises at home as well. My dog has taken to squeaking like a rusty hinge when she thinks I'm going to take her for a walk. My new car, also, makes random little screeching sounds seemingly at random, but never when a mechanic is around. I think I'm going to make a sound recording of all of this and see if it helps my new career as an electronic avant-garde music genius.

Edwina Pickles

2006-09-13T01:37:00.000-05:00

If I was going to write a novel I'd call one of the characters Edwina Pickles. Edwina Pickles is a photographer who works for the Sydney Morning Herald. I want to meet her mum and tell her she's a genius for naming her daughter Edwina Pickles.
This is just one of the really cool real life names I've come across lately. I keep getting forwards that have come through someone called Rod Hardman. Rod. Hard. Man. I have never met the bloke, but I think I want to sleep with him.
Then there's Sheila Shaver, an Australian academic whose name sounds like a brand of razors designed for women who hang out at wild country shearing shed parties.
I'm glad my real name is unpronounceable to many but otherwise not silly!

Earring Magic Ken

2006-08-23T22:17:00.000-05:00

I was looking at pictures of Ken dolls on the net (don't ask) and I found a picture of my favouritest Ken EVER, Earring Magic Ken (commonly known as gay Ken). Here he is...

It made me nostalgic for my Ken doll, who I apparently used to torture. I don't remember ever giving him any clothes to wear either, which was mean of me because my Barbies had great outfits. My mum even used to make them corture evening wear based on great 80s patterns. These seemed very tasteful at the time, since it was the 80s.

All this excitement about Earring Magic Ken (and his pal, Boy George Ken) made me start dreaming about my ideal imaginary Ken collection. It would include...

Robert Smith Fun Ken (complete with goth makeup kit and messy black hair)

Drag Magic Ken (comes with a selection of Barbie outfits and outrageous eyelashes)

Feral Stoner Ken (comes with dreadlocks and a sarong, miniature bong optional)

Young Liberal Magic Ken (comes with a law degree and detachable ethics)

Death Metal Ken (with mini guitar and real thrash sound effects!)

Straight Edge Ken, comes with a CD of hardcore sounds, a packet of tofu, a bible and a cricket bat, for beating up Drag Magic Ken, Earring Magic Ken and any atheists or meat eaters.

Then I'd play games where they all start bands together but have 'musical differences'

don'tdatehimgirl.com

2006-08-17T00:44:00.000-05:00

If anyone hasn't gone there yet, check out this website! Even if you are a hardened swearing person, you will learn more filthy and creative insults than you could have ever dreamed of! You will learn amazing new ways to spell words and amazing grammatical errors you never felt possible. And, you will learn more than you ever needed to know about the love lives of bogans.

You will read about stuff like

'he tried to rape my puppy but it wouldn't eat the tranquiliser he gave it'
'he cheated on me with his sister...'
'he is wanted for tax evasion in five states'
'he's GAY and he left me for a pregnant 15 year old man he met in a public toilet'
'he left me 8 months pregnant to party with sluts'
'he's an abusive drunken meth addict with a distinctive tattoo of an arrow pointing to his penis, which is very small, and he doesn't know how to use it, he has Hep C and AIDs and he wouldn't know a condom if it jumped off his tiny dick...'
'he stole my CAR...'

I'm sure not all of it is true.

but...

Where have you been all my life don'tdatehimgirl.com?

Ryan, this one's for you.

fifi needs a beanie

2006-08-10T21:55:00.000-05:00

please will somebody buy me a beanie?
I went to the hairdresser last night to work on my goal of re-blonding my hair after going goth-black/dark brown for a while. It's been a painful few months of orange hair, strange streaks and odd regrowth. I've had to put up with straw-like texture, floaty split ends... I could rant about it for weeks.
I thought it would finally get back to sort of normal this time. I went to my usual 'visual art salon with a New York theme' and handed over a hefty chunk of my pay packet.
And now I look like Shane Warne.
My poor hair is an excruciating shade of brassy blonde. I keep expecting to be invited to play cricket for Australia. I keep getting the urge to go down to players bar and trying to pull sports groupie chicks.
Somebody buy me a beanie!
(Or at least another hair appointment)

lab coat of the day

2006-08-08T21:30:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I just get an urge to post pictures of men wearing lab coats and big black glasses. Is that weird?

Moogy Blues

2006-08-08T21:22:00.000-05:00

I've just discovered that Moog is actually pronounced to rhyme with Rogue, not to rhyme with the noise that cows make. That's so awful! All my life I've been trying to chat up cute musicians while flagrantly mispronouncing the name of one of my favourite instruments. (No wonder they never really seem aware of my inner Brazilian super-model!) And, as the radio announcer on the Moog show put it, it feels so good to say Mooog. I don't usually have that many good things to say about hip hop artists, but one thing I do like about it is that you're never in doubt about how to pronounce their names. Anyone who is anyone in hip hop has to have at least one song where they introduce themself at least 10 times. That's how I know Puff Daddy is actually pronounced 'knob'.

Zombie Songs

2006-08-07T22:09:00.000-05:00

When I was on the triple J website this morning looking for something to listen to at uni, I found that JJJ had a who list of songs with zombie in the title or the name of the band. I thought I'd put it here to add to the zombie theme. Here it is!

Snowman – Zombies On The Airwaves Of Paris
Baterz – Zombie Girl
Rob Zombie – Living Dead Girl
REM – I Walked With A Zombie
The Zombies – Time of The Season
Alice Cooper – Cold Ethyl
Sufjan Stevens – They Are Night Zombies…
Ozzy Osbourne – Zombie Stomp
Regurgitator – I Zombie
The Hooters – All You Zombies
White Zombie – More Human Than Human
The Horrorpops – Walk Like A Zombie
The Spazzys – Zombie Girl
The Cranberries - Zombie

solvent abuse

2006-08-07T21:50:00.000-05:00

There is a health warning on my hairspray. It says ‘solvent abuse can cause instant death”. I know they really want to stop people inhaling it who can’t afford real drugs. But how many teenage aerosol sniffers would sniff $20 hairspray?? This is what makes me wonder if that warning is actually a threat to people who misuse hairspray in other ways. I can think of quite a few people who deserve instant death for hairspray abuse. Like Janette Howard, who has weird helmet hair that doesn’t move (actually, she probably uses embalming fluid) Like every commercial newsreader in Adelaide, and everyone who made metal in the 80s, especially Ronnie Dio.

moog moog moog moog moog

2006-08-04T01:30:00.000-05:00

"Hi! We are Blaxtyn (bright orange) and Ky-Leesha (the not so bright one). Our four kids are Shardonnai, Shay'deen, Sharlot and X (the fish formerly known as Prince). Please feed us, but not too much"

This is the sign on the new fishtank I bought for our office. My office sharing pal Catherine and I challenged our minds to the extreme to think of the trashiest names in the universe. This is the brilliant brain fruit of our imaginations. I don't know why we didn't get awarded an honorary doctorate just for thinking of them.

Blaxtyn and Ky-Lee are rosy barbs and they are such a couple (story of my life!) They take turns blindly following each other around the tank. Every so often, they have a lovers' tiff and swim to opposite sides of the tank (but not very often). Mostly, they just graze off the pebbles at the bottom, finding exciting bits of slime and old fish food.

The other four are boring fish. They just sit around and stare at us. I wonder if they would like to eat us if they grew big enough. The not so fab four are only interesting when I put fish food in. Then they dart around like mini-pirhanas, attacking each other ovetastyivious offal flavoured fish flakes.

The fish themselves are looking pretty excited at the moment. They seem to like Moog music. They seem to prefer it to Radiohead. This is all because IÂve discovered that the paranoid super-security computers at the university allow me to listen to JJJ podcasts. First I listened to the Radiohead J files (of course) and IÂve just spend the last half hour or so learning about the history of the Moog.

I have always wanted a Moog. Not just any synth, it has to be a moog one just because the word Moog is so cool. Moog moog moog moog. If I had a moog, it would cause big problems in my imaginary band because I would want to be both the moody moog player and the highly talented, perfectionist, lead guitarist. Maybe I can be like one of those drunken old carnival men who play six instruments at a time. I would have to invest in a pole covered in beer lids and learn how to play Slim Dusty on a gum leaf.

portal to the dark side

2006-07-27T02:06:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-26T01:20:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-26T01:08:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-24T03:29:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-23T23:03:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-07-23T22:54:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-23T22:34:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-21T01:50:00.000-05:00

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!!

2006-07-19T02:04:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-07-14T01:31:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-14T00:44:00.000-05:00

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

2006-07-09T21:54:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-07-07T01:23:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-07-07T00:58:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-07-06T00:02:00.000-05:00

... 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!

Coming to you from Melbourne...

2006-06-17T10:56:00.000-05:00

We made it!
...and our adventures included:

hanging out at the Meningie hotel with lots of very Wolf Creek like blokes asking us polite questions about where we were going and what car we were driving.
Listening to Eagle Rock a lot.
Fifi-Belle getting extreme paranoia about hitting a water buffalo or other enormous wild animal along the Coorong.
but actually seeing no animals except two mice and a rabbit.
going to Millicent music and finding heaps of Westlife CDs but no Jefferson Airplane's 'surrealistic pillow'.
Posing for happysnaps in front of a hard looking ute.
Getting crazily tail gated by a crazy pensioner with a blue heeler.
taking down his numberplate and telling the nice policeman.
who did NOT find our stash of weed, because we didn't take any.
Driving for about 30 million hours.
Seeing the Dirty Three yay!
cooking t-bone steak in a suprisingly non crusty kitchen in our youth hostel.
Getting a good night's sleep so I can drive for millions of hours again tomorrow!

amazing talking boonie

2006-06-15T02:11:00.000-05:00

My talking boonie is pictured on the left of this picture. I don't know who the guy on the right is, I think he might be a marketing executive for Fosters.

more silly blog genres

2006-06-15T01:29:00.000-05:00

(fig. 2: a typical picture from a couple blog)

At the risk of sounding like Bridget Jones, what's with couple blogs!!! They usually contain tons of pictures of the happy lovers celebrating their love. If they are married couple blogs (a particularly virulent sub-strain) they contain pictures of houses, kids, and weddings.

BLEURGH!!

UUURK!!!

YUKYUKYUKYUKYUK!!!!!!

As if the world isn't covered in enough soppy couples as it is! But surely a happy relationship is about more than boasting on the bloody internet! It's like these people are treating their lifestyles as some sort of consumer purchase, not an actual life. Its as though having a perfect relationship is a box that 'successful people' tick, along with the 'McMansion' box and the 'Monstrousity of a Flat Screen Television' box.

Horror Movie

2006-06-14T02:35:00.000-05:00

I have to drive to Melbourne in a 35 year old car this weekend.

We were going to take my Mum's car but she accidently sideswiped a parked car and the passenger door won't open. Plus, its covered in dents.

Pauline's car is even less reliable than my car or mum's car, although its very cool.

My car was built in 1971.

In 1971, East Germany was still a communist country. People wore flares. Michael Jackson was Black. You could buy a house in Sydney for about $15,000. Black Sabbath were this exciting new thing.

I hope we make it!!!

blogging about jogging

2006-06-14T00:34:00.000-05:00

I find running blogs very mysterious. I have come across a whole lot of blogs that totally consist of people's running experiences. I always thought running was a private penance that people did to avoid looking like Jabba the Hutt. (see fig 1. right) I hated doing any sort of sport at school and probably handed in more 'sick notes' than homework. But these people are so into jogging, they share their morning jogs with the whole internet???

Little Britain in Adelaide

2006-06-13T21:56:00.000-05:00

Just about everyone in my life is a character from Little Britain.

I'm definitely Vickie Pollard... I really, really want a pink Kappa jacket. If I had a baby, I would definitely swap it for a Westlife CD. And I don't even like Westlife.

I turn into Dame Sally Markhamwhen I write my thesis.

If Pauline's mind snaps any more, she'll turn into Ray McCooney, the mysterious Scottish bard who answers all questions with a piccolillo. Except when he answers them with a fife.

Marjorie Dawes, the evil fat fighters lady, is a conglomorate of my last two bosses.

In honour of his appearance as Joyrene last Halloween, Ryan has got to be Emily Howard, who is a real lady, not a not-very-good trannie.

Anne the psychiatric patient is a retarded, still-living-at-home-at-35, born again christian I used to work with.

All the boys I like are Sebastian (or the crusty blacksmith's hot, hot brother).

All the boys who like me are Kenny Craig, the dirty television hypnotist.

food

2006-06-07T02:31:00.000-05:00

I ate my lifetime quota of turnip today. And water, carrots, onions, peas, haricot beans, potatoes, cauliflower, green beans, parsnips, Swedes, sweetcorn kernels, chicken stock, celery chicken and yeast.
Today for lunch I ate Baxters Chicken and Vegetable Soup.
It was the first time I've eaten canned soup since I read a book about the Franklin expedition, where the soup contractor cut a few really disgusting corners.
It was quite nice stuff, but it was about as filling as a teaspoon of fairy floss. When I read the fine print, I realised it had 1% chicken. I had to eat another can about two hours later because it was that or eat the girl I share an office with.
It is a complete coincidence that I was reading the lyrics to Weddings Parties Anything's "A Tale They Won't Believe" at the time.
I spent the afternoon fantasising about eating a giant veal schnitzel covered with cheese and tomato sauce, with chips on the side. My fantasy schnitzel would probably be part of an Adelaide uni Unibar meal deal, where you also get a mini cadbury chocolate bar and a beer. Nice.
I think it was Frankl who said that the driving force of humans was not sex (freud) or spirituality (jung) it was food.
food food food food food.
food.
food is so good.
I'm going home to cook dinner now.

caffeine error

2006-06-05T02:40:00.000-05:00

I have to reconsider my life. I tried to make a coffee today, and I actually made a mess of it.
I put the coffee in. I put the sugar in. I put the water in. I put the milk in .
But it didn't taste quite right.
I'd forgotten to boil the bloody jug.
Then I heated it up in the microwave and absolutely nuked it, leaving something like butter on top.
It tasted really crap but I drank it anyway.
One of the other PhD students down the hallway assured me that its just a sign that there are more important things taking up space in my mind. I'll go with that.

data entry is so boring

2006-06-02T01:58:00.000-05:00

Data entry is so boring it makes me want to cry. I wish I had a PA.

somebody to love

2006-05-31T21:26:00.000-05:00

I first saw him at Grange. A cricketer, strong, broad and made of plastic. He had a fine moustache like a virile walrus, and it was love at first sight.
I took him home with me.
His instructions told me to put him directly in front of the television. But he wasn't happy there. He didn't say a word until I put him in my bedroom.
He was a bit of a chauvinist. He didn't talk unless he wanted something. The something was usually VB. Otherwise, he'd ask me to either turn on the cricket, make him nachos or find his thongs.
He had no apparent receiver device. John at my local bottle shop said Boonie should live in a box in a dark corner of the shed, because he was obviously a government spying device.
But Boonie and I got along OK.
Then Boonie began to change.
First he began to slur his speech. I just thought he'd had too much VB.
Then, Boonie started to speak in a satanic whisper... He had evolved his own language.
He would wake me in the night, slurring and crackling like an evil alien.
But I stayed with Boonie, in memory of what had been.

Captain Woot

2006-05-31T03:43:00.000-05:00

I just went to myspace (Yes! I'm a whore!) I was going through the bands section (as you do when you're a sad wannabe groupie) and there is a band called Captain Woot. I mean, how cool is that! what kind of a genius thinks of a name like that! Its like a woot captain beefheart!
So I'm thinking, band names.

Snatchtastic and Spy Lobsters are genius band names, obviously.
But to help those other people out there who might be great musicians but SUCK at thinking of band names (you know who you are)

So, I've invented

The really pretentious pseudo prog band name generator.

First you think of the colour of your tackiest ever garment, and make it a nuanced colour like tangerine, it can't just be orange. Then, your favourite animal, again make it exotic. If you're feeling creative, include the name of your first fluffy toy. Maybe then the name of a place. Last of all, you need a very, like 'explosion' , obviously depending what sort of band you are. You have to make sure you put "the" on the front, and make the last word plural.

so your boring band becomes

the tangerine snake cactus Willingham explosion.

and you have to INSIST that no one capitalises the 'the' or any of the other words.

If you want a short snappy post rock sort of name, just pick the two best words generated.

Snatchtastic Fantastic

2006-05-31T03:30:00.000-05:00

There's a little part of me that thinks it would be fun to be emo. I've almost got the hair and I could probably bleed on my guitar if I wanted to. It would be pretty easy to go to an op shop and buy an all black wardrobe (although I wouldn't want to get confused with my evil sister).
The crowning glory of my imaginary emo world would be my myspace site.
I'm thinking, it would be so fun to have a fake band and put it on myspace.
I'm so inspired.
I think Snatchtastic and spylobsters have a photo shoot coming up!!!

why we blog

2006-05-30T03:19:00.000-05:00

I always thought blogging was about telling the world how cool you are and how witty your writing is. But apparently, people blog for all kinds of crazy reasons.

People like to sell stuff like viagra and weight loss 'solutions'. There seems to be a whole genre of break-up blogs, where people tell the internet community how they are SO over someone they have to write a blog about it. There are whacko religious blogs.

But what freaks me out even more are medical blogs. There is a whole blog about skin diseases. I'm sure somewhere there's a blog about the health benefits of drinking urine.

So, what happens is that I have finished my marxist polemic of the day, and think 'I'll go look at a random blog today". And before I know it, I am staring at psoriasis. Yuk... If I wanted to look at psoriasis I would go read a med journal.

bloody christians

2006-05-30T03:13:00.000-05:00

I went to this blog

the address was

http://horsgal360.blogspot.com/

and the profile said:

I'm like this "normal" girl from this like "normal" island, Tasmania, and I am a full-time christian, ITS THE BEST!!

what the?

Neo-Liberalism: Its Your Choice

2006-05-30T02:39:00.000-05:00

Free choice is a patriarchal lie based on the fiction that humans are somehow rational beings. Solid, serious, evidence based research shows that this is not the case. If Australians are rational, why did they vote for John Howard?

hair: the bane of my life.

2006-05-29T00:18:00.000-05:00

In its natural state, it's dishwater blonde.
In its current state (dyed dark brown) it gets roots in about two weeks. Yukky, dishwater blonde roots.
When boys run their fingers through my hair, they say things like "you have such thin hair", scarring me for life.
The hairdresser I go to charges $79 for a haircut.
No other hairdresser has the ability to cut my hair properly, so I can't go to a cheaper salon.
I am singlehandedly making the hole in the ozone layer bigger, but I need to use lots of hairspray or it clings limply to my head.
Ditto volumising mousse, hairdresser shampoo, conditioning treatments, shine spray, defining product and leave in conditioner.
Some would say I am really gullible for buying the products recommended to me. But they do appear to make my hairstyling routine less challenging.
All I want is for the colour and the style to look OK in between haircuts. Is that really so much to ask?

fifi-belle knows heaps of daggy stuff

2006-05-26T01:54:00.000-05:00

When I was looking through family photo albums as a child, I was always fascinated by one of the captions. It was a picture of a convent in Wagga Wagga, and the note in my Grandfather's writing was
"a nun, sister Ligouri, caused a scandal when she escaped from this convent".
I thought this was pretty cool. I though it had to be some sort of sexy scandal, in which some rebellious nun got influenced by 20's flapper culture and decided to join the big bad world.
So today I googled the phrase, hoping to get the dirt on Sister Ligouri.
Sadly, there was no sex involved. Poor old Sister L had a fight with her mother superior over a broom and decided to run away with some protestant activists, who helped her sue the bishop of Wagga. Although she did accuse the convent of trying to poison her. So really, it was all about Irish nationalist politics.

leaked internal memo from the ministry of silly walks

2006-05-24T01:33:00.000-05:00

John Cleese can't do silly walks any more, because he has arthritis. I was at the pub with some Scottish blokes last night and neither of them knew about Mogwai the band. Everything about the world is wrong, plain wrong. Apparently this is called apocalyptic nihilism, not to be confused with ni-ism, which is an intense feeling of desire for shrubberies.

Life Choices

2006-05-23T20:44:00.000-05:00

I've just had an idea for a great reality TV show. Its beautifully simple, and it would be incredibly cheap to make.
I would find a wealthy family, and challenge them to live on a Centrelink income.
It would have to be for a longish period, like maybe three months. I probably would have no trouble finding the family, because many people like to deny the existence of poverty in Australia, and believe it is the result of nothing but poor budgeting. I'm sure they would love a chance to try and prove the crypto commie lefty whingers wrong.
I would make the conditions as realistic as possible. They would not be allowed to bring any of their own possessions, not even their underwear.
At the beginning of the period they would be sent to Goodwill with vouchers allowing them to pick clothes for themselves, according to the number of items a family in need would normally be allowed to pick for themselves: two pairs of pants, two jumpers etc per person.
Then, they would have to find somewhere to live. Low income people are far more likely to be renting privately than living in public housing, although they are given a small payment for rent assistance.
Then they would have to spend the next three months living in the house, in whatever area they had 'chosen' to live, knowing the amount of money available. On their income of probably about $200 per week, they would have to feed themselves, run an old car if they had 'chosen' to buy it, entertain themselves if they 'chose' to, and pay any bills that came in if they 'chose' to get the electricity connected or use heating. They would have to pay any medical or pharmaceutical expenses that arose if they 'chose' to get sick.
Because life's all about choices these days.
Of course, nothing could really give them the depressed mental state that comes from the drudgery of living in poverty. They would know that this was just an experiment, and that they could go back to their old lives and their high income at the end of the period, which would be a cheering thought unthinkable for a real family living in these circumstances.
What the reality TV show would do, is answer the question about whether or not poverty in Australia is really due to poor financial management, or the inadequacy of our social welfare system.

more about me

2006-05-22T22:02:00.000-05:00

Fifi-belle is a PhD candidate at ___ . Her research interests are sleeping, eating and watching Oprah. She came to the centre after working at Centrelink, where she hatched an elaborate plan to pretend she had been doing an Honours degree. She was never really an undergraduate, but she went to all the lectures except the ones that were too early in the morning. Before this, she had a brief career as a failed Pirate, serving several years in jail for robbery on the High Seas. She has also been convicted for selling shares in a non existent Papua New Guinea gold mine. She had a child, but she accidentally left it at the supermarket.

dj sydneytripp vs Jefferson Airplane

2006-05-19T04:10:00.000-05:00

So I had the most boring day of my entire life. I spent 2 goddamn hours waiting at Adelaide airport because my budget aeroplane was delayed. Then I sat in an aeroplane and wanted to retch the whole trip. Ryan, I hope you've been reading Cleo this month because there's a great article about women who get off on tiny doorknob shaped "wieners". They have an internet community and everything. When I was on the plane there was a russian woman in front of me yelling at people. She didn't want them to use the overhead locker because her clothes were in there. Like, have you heard of a suitcase? I got on the airport train. The ticket machine sold me a student ticket, which was nice of it. I refuse to pay full fare on the airport line, who am I, kerry packer? Then I got off at Hosworthy (doesn't that just sound like a place there would be gorgeous skinny English boys with long hair and anoraks?). Finally, I had arrived at my destination, which was 1958, aka my grandfather's house. Help help I'm a prisoner in 1958! Let me ooooout!!!

when I am king

2006-05-18T02:49:00.000-05:00

when I am king of the world, I am going to ban fashion. I am going to make everyone wear hypercolour overalls. Because.

Internet saddo

2006-05-17T03:22:00.000-05:00

I just realised I've been blogging for five months now. Thats actually longer than my longest ever relationship. Like that relationship, I have also broken up with my blog from time to time, called it rude words, and OH SHIT
do you know that 67% of Australians aged from 20-29 identify with Christianity?
what is going through these people's minds? do they also believe in aliens?

2006-05-17T03:17:00.000-05:00

Dirty 3 are playing with cat power. They are two of my favourite musical acts of all time. They are playing in Adelaide when we are in Melbourne, and in Melbourne when we are in Adelaide.

I hate my life
I hate my lie
I hate my life

I can only resolve this evil dilemma if I go see their Melbourne show, so I think I’ll be going to Melbourne. I will definitely go to Melbourne.

Speaking of music, I would like to report the results of my research to the world. The "pink floyd" version of House of the Rising Sun is actually by a 70s Detroit band called Frijid Pink. Thats right, Frijid, not Fridgid. Its a great song, although I have read that its popularity destroyed them as a band.

everything is freaking me out today

2006-05-15T00:17:00.000-05:00

I think I may have been drinking too much caffeine. I didn't get much sleep last night. Its all Adelaide's fault. You know how, if you live in Sydney (where I'm from) and you have 2 friends, they will never, ever meet each other unless you introduce them?
Not like that here.
Here, random acquaintances you moan about your stupid crushes to, turn out to be going out with one of said crush's friends!

it sucks to be me.

List of things that are freaking me out today:

the weird english accent woman on the payphone behind the cafeteria, saying "can you explain to me why you think that"
the woman in the cafeteria, who looked a bit like Deborah Mailman, but wasn't.
the fact that the cafereria is called magoo's.

I think I'll stay in my office and not go to the cafeteria again.

Hey Sheriff, You Forgot Your Pants

2006-05-14T21:34:00.000-05:00

I have to write my PhD now, but the internet is sooooo good. I heart broadband. I heart Ryan's blog. And going to random blogs and yelling out hey sheriff, you forgot your pants!!