As happy as a clam!

I'm sparing a moment of thought for all those women who went before me, slaving away at dead end jobs while maintaining a constant level of poor self-esteem to keep them happy in dead end jobs.  While sometimes my assertiveness and self-satisfaction could be mistaken for arrogance (surely not), I partly attribute this state of mind to all those sisters and mothers who came before me and took the big hits.  So here is my list of thankyous to the sisterhood:
1.  Thankyou for questioning the notion that women have small emotion ridden brains and so can only work as mothers or in menial repetitive service jobs.
2. Thankyou for entertaining the concept that not all ovaries need to be put to good use
3.  Thankyou, and this is from deep in my heart, for absorbing the slings and bows of disdain from those people in your workforce who wished to mock you for your efforts.  A special thankyou for those times that you said: "Enough" and chose to fight back.
4.  Thankyou for not taking everything so seriously and for imparting the notion that a head-cold is not life threatening.
5.  Thankyou for wanting more when others thought you deserved less
6.  Thankyou for passing on a sense of decision and certainty to your daughters, even when you doubted your judgement in doing so.

SAY NO TO SUNDAY NIGHT TELLY!!!

Noooooooooo!!!!!- Bob and Blanche you were so unsexy then, you're still unsexy now, even with two moderately attractive actors playing you.

Tell me you did not just grab her butt- that's sooo wrong!  It's going to take at least a thousand years before this romance is going to look anything but ickky.

Channel 10- shame on you,- I hope this doesn't count in your Australian made content quota.

Off for a quick chuck and a cry over the sorriness of our Australian political heritage.   

Is that an election in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

At the moment I feel special. Because my vote counts and there are people out there willing to tell me so.  There are even advertisements on the telly that reinforce my importantness.  I am so imptytimpityimportant.
That's why I've decided to cast my vote for Paul the Psychic Octopus.  Just look at his track record:
Able to show vision: tick.
Belief in the future: tick.
Provide two struggling countries with economic stimulus: tick.
Bucketloads of charisma: tick.
A member of the EEC: tick.  (That's not so important, just thought I'd add it.)
Knows what it's like to be displaced and imprisoned and then used for economic gain by the powerful imperialist ruling group: tick.
Has his own iphone app: tick tick tick.

VOTE 1 PAUL THE PSYCHIC OCTOPUS

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All Hail the Mighty Salad!

Image via Wikipedia

You never know what your latest life-rope is going to be.  There are the conventional: walk along the beach, laughing with friends- virtually every life saver has been accounted for, and in the quest for instant sanity we are marched "Achtung!" into the next make-happy cure.

So never would have though the dinner salad would have done it for me.  I'm used to being saved by a hefty block of chocoate, maybe something deep-fried (doesn't matter what).  However, the joy of salad assemblage was only eclipsed by the eating.

Whoa- have I gone nutty, nut nuts? (Actually, Australian pecans mmmm)  After a day of computer inservice, a strawberry Freddo that almost sliced me in two with its sweetness and the unbearable cheerfulness of my well balanced colleagues who seemed to be coping with being back at work with a far-better game face than I could ever muster-the combination of rocket, roma cherry tomatoes, pecans, cucumber, pear and marinated pecan was all it took to bring back some inner peace.

I think I said once before that I confuse myself.  This hasn't changed. 

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"I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about."

 I've missed doing nothing.  Like Oscar Wilde (from whom I pilfered the above quote), I think I excel at it.  I just don't do it enough.
I'm just finishing off my two week holiday break and I don't want to go back to work.  No offense to the education system, but I'm quite happy at home sleeping, eating, sometimes moving and doing odd bits of reading and writing.  In between all that I get moments of nothing, blissful islands of time where I really don't have to achieve a thing.
I'm a bit scared about going back to work.  I'm going to have to achieve things, not only that but I'm going to have to show other people how they can achieve too.  I know it's supposed to be something good-to be a leader and an educator, but right at the moment it sucks. 
Nothing gets a bad rap, ("Nothing shall come of nothing, speak again" King Lear to daughter Cordelia just before he kicks her out of his castle and kingdom) mostly because the urge to do something meaningful and worthwhile has overtaken the value of just kinda hanging around. 
Over the next day or two I'm going to have to get excited about losing nothing.  Any tips or ideas would be greatly appreciated!

A new addition to our happy home!

Meet our new BBQ- Garth.  He arrived pre-named and absolutely stony cheap.  Cost us nothing, but was a combined effort of Ted the scrap man, Classic Steve and Glenn the beloved.  Garth's arrival in our home keeps the combined cost of all furnishings in our home over the last six years of being together at: $660!!!!  Yes, as much as we lust after Natuzzi lounge suites, the lure of running a recycled home is too great.  Thankyou to all who have made this possible: Mum and Dad for table, chairs, TV table, bedroom suite, office table, drier and wonderful floating kitchen bench (and probably a whole heap of other stufff), Viv for retro kitchen table and chairs, Megan and Jeff for bookshelves, Auntie Naomi for fluffy eighties tiger bedspread/rug, Classic Steve for office furniture, Noodles for the punching bag, Nick and Emma for retro tins, retro shelving and super maxi TV set and finally, to the courier company who brought Glenn the wrong computer two years ago-bigger, better, faster and stronger!

Ask Doctor Prince Alfonse

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'Scuse me, Doctor Prince Alfonse, and I hate to bring this up, but you-being a dog, qualifies you, I believe, to comment on two vexacious issues that have been plaguing my mind.

First, on a lesser note, could you account for the reason why one of the most pernicious and lowly examples of human fodder be given canine qualities.  I ask this knowing that you, as a most regal and dignified hound who exemplies all the noble qualities, temeperament and wisdom of all your 56 breeds and-oh my goodness, you just answered my question oh wise one.  Hot dog= at least 56 different aspects of cows/pigs (lips, knees, earlobes etc.).  

A second and more plaguing issue- who would want to stuff themselves stupid with these 56 different aspects? And in a competitive manner?  For the accolades and derision of others? World-wide? Would you do this Doctor Prince Alfonse?  Even as I type this  the news that tells us a Chinese tightrope artist dressed as Elvis spent 60 days on the high-wire.  Now that is something to brag about, don't you think?  

Oh, Doctor Prince Alfonse, you wouldn't understand what it is about humans that we must distinguish ourselves by our menial pursuits.  We should all be like you Doctor, and distinguish outselves by doing the simple, most life affirming actions, with great gusto and dignity.

Ebay builds character

Just like to show you my you-beaut Eames reproduction chair- posh ay?  Goes to show the kind of quality folk we are, and true to form it was a berloody bargain!  My first and only foray into the land of E-bay, somehow I managed to carry off a pro-ish kind of move, beat off all the other REAL BIDDERS and picked it up for 126.50.  Oh yes, you read it right and that was in AUS dollars.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

And the vendor?  REALLY, REALLY PISSED!  Offered to buy it back for, hmm, now let me think- 126.50!!!  No,no,no,no.no I said.  And because he was a professional ebay seller (even though they are, hmm, illegal and just plain un-Australian), he didn't reneg.  Although, he did make it very difficult to a) pick it up, and b) get from Melbourne to sunny Queensland.  Still, with a little help from the in-laws and the always up for a hoot Trev and Liz, Eames is home!

But that's not the fairy story ended, in the true sense of triumph over adversity, Eames developed some character of its own, and, after a journey of 2000 kilometres, found its true calling of travel!  Yes, every morning is a journey of body and spirit, of new horizons and possibilites.  Thankyou ebay, thankyou.

My dirty litte secret of excess, or, "Don't drive anything bigger than the combined headspace of a small European nation"

This is a Plymouth Cuda, (short for Barracuda) and I took the photo at this year's Wintersun.  It's my dream car.  It's definitely a trapping of excess.  Totally unnecessary, but totally hot.  I confuse myself sometimes.

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Maybe it should be titled: Don't read anything bigger than your head

Image via Wikipedia

It's taken me six months of staring guiltily at Wolf Hall  by Hilary Mantel (I bought it with a gift certificate), I've started reading.  First five chapters- well that's like reading in a language you're not entirely used to speaking, but pushing ahead with it anyway.  Sloooowwww.  And a lot more demanding than the vampire fiction that I'd been slothing through over the last month or two.

Gotta say it, didn't really give a woolly rats arse about English history, sort of thought it was a bit snooty and over-rated.  I still think it's over-rated (particularly as a resident of one of the "colonies"), but this book has certainly challenged my view of Henry VIII as a portly lad in a phooffy outfit dragging around a turkey drumstick.  I'm going to concede- the Tudors are good pickings for fiction and gotta love how Mantel writes about the women- Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Katherine of Aragon, Mary Boleyn, LizWyks- that is, she really writes about them.

Next step for me, after finishing the book, is watching the miniseries: "The Tudors", wasn't interested before, but ready to give it a go- I hear there's not a turkey leg to be seen. 

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I'm not always that narky

When I'm not railing against the excesses of society I can actually be a pretty nice person. Even to the point of appreciating too-ing and fro-ing of day to day living.

A great too-er and fro-er in in my books is the Cordyline to the left. This photo does its colour absolutely no justice- you've got to imagine a big old colour clout between the eyes at seven in the morning to appreciate its full beauty.

It sits outside our front door, and on a 'specially cold morning like this one, where you untangle yourself from 56 doonas and 84 blankets to then put on twelve pairs of sox, 24 undies and a couple of thermals, it's a good reminder of how up here in the tropics life really kicks in during winter.

We've been a bit cash poor over the last week or two, but when you sit out here in the morning, slurping on some non-cat poo coffee and watching how the sunlight and pink mix and mash, well, cash just doesn't really matter.

"Cat-Poo-Coffee", or, "My C21 brush with the French Revolution"

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

I've been known to do a slightly shady thing or two to get a cup of coffee. Glenn, my partner and main competition for the morning cuppa might have called my devotion "obssessive", but cat-poo coffee takes it that one step further.

Wouldn't think you'd find a world-class roastery in beautiful down-town Yandina, but neither would you expect to be invited to attend the tasting of twenty-dollar thimblefulls of coffee from beans pooped out by Thailand rainforest cats. 'Scuze me? Who found this out? And who collects the poo? What cats eat coffee beans? And are these free range or battery cats?

Coffee-Nazi in charge, aka bigwig barista, didn't appreciate the questions, top of the list was "Why?" Why, why, why, why- did we suddenly get bored with coffee, with ourselves, with regular cup size, or with twenty dollar notes? I've got dogs and they poo- maybe I could open a restaurant." (Too far?)

But come on, look past the fact that I went too far with that last comment and ask yourself: what kind of society do we live in when we beveragize the unthinkable, and, usually undrinkable. Hats off to the the people of Thailand if this is one of their cultural delicacies, and if someone eight thousand kilometres away has contributed to a better way of life through the purchase of a dab of coffee- even better. But if your next high involves playing with poo and paying for it, then maybe it's time you asked yourself: "Am I willing to lose my head to this?"

Yeah, Fair suck of the Sav

An excess of footy talent doesn't always mean you make a good decision- or spell it right for that matter!

When your eyes are bigger than your mouth

Welcome to my blog themed to give a boot up the bum to the culture of excess. And by excess I don't mean owning an ipod (or my new bestie, the iphone); I mean excess to be in the state of having so much that you lose the ability to make sense (think Louis XVI, Sun King, pre-French Revolution kind of excess).

Case in point- viewed the movie "It's Complicated" (Streep and Baldwin) and thankfully had my laptop ready to fast forward through uncomfortable middle age copulation. Dammit, watching Streep and Baldwin get their jiggy on is just not sexy! And, living up to the titular command- the movie was complicated and maybe should have been subtitled: "I'm a viewer and I'm confused".

Here's the plot as I understand it: Couple has family, lots of money, good careers, but hang-on, they forget to talk or even like each other (oops!) So he has an affair and she divorces him before she can have a chance to admit that she really didn't like him anyway. Then they meet up again ten years later, both still have lots of money but hmmm, she's bored and lonely and living in a fantastic house with a big garden and he's bored and feeling old with a young wife and a hideous stepson. New title "I'm bored so I'll get complicated."

Here's my remedy: take away the house, garden, high paying jobs, good looking spouses, secret nookie in a flash hotel and what do you have? Just getting through. See, nothing complicated about that!