The Best News I've Heard In Ages

After years of waiting, TiVo is coming to Australia in 2008.

::head explodes with joy::

Fortunately Clocks Don't Go To 6:66

I had a totally fucked up night's sleep last night, tossing and turning and not dreaming of John Barrowman. What the fuh? Why forsake me John?

I'm a very light sleeper, and if I wake in the middle of the night boooooiingggg I'm wide awake and functioning. You want long division? Want me to spell floccinaucinihilipilification? No problem. The downside of this is that I don't just roll over and go back to sleep easily. The worst thing to do of course is to freak out about what time it is by looking straight at the bedside clock, which of course is the first thing I always reflexively do.

Last I woke up and looked at the clock, and it said 3:33. "Huh, neat" I thought and went back to sleep.

Then I woke up again and the clock said 4:44. "Um, whoa" I thought and went back to sleep.

Then I woke up again, and this is 100% true, the clock said 5:57. My first thought? "Fuck, I missed it."

Ventin' Time!

Oh my gah you guys. Come pull up a chair and warm your hands by the white hot frustration I'm giving off. Toast some marshmallows. Slip off your Choo heels and warm your toes.

It has been a long stressful day in the office. Just be thankful I was able to squeeze out a hasty post about Cap'n Dreamy earlier, because aside from that I've barely had time to scratch myself. (FYI - not that I need to.)

The two part-time replacements for my role here at The Big Christian Charity have started. For those in need of backstory; I'm a contractor, I have to leave this job by June 30 because that's when the funding runs out for my position, my job role has grown from one looking after the admin needs of around 40-50 clients to now around 300. I could have taken the position a while back, but the money sucks so I'm happy to move on. So, they are replacing me with two part-timers, making this more like a 1.5 times me position.

They are very nice. They are very nice. Nice, nice. Nice times two. But my head is about to explode. They've done nothing wrong, well almost nothing but we managed to dig the pesky staples out of the innards of our very, very expensive photocopier and in the long run no (obvious) damage was done. This is just the wrong day. I'm in the middle of a billing cycle that is way overdue, the field staff all come in to drop off their client payments to me today, and well blah de blah de blah. You know?

The Internetz and I have not had anywhere near enough quality time.

I Was Dreaming When I Wrote This

One of my quirks, just one of the little foot soldiers in my huge battalion of quirks, is that I rarely ever remember my dreams. However, having said that I woke this morning in the middle of a dream about Cap'n Jack Harkness, pansexual intergalatic rogue and infamous kisser of both Rose Tyler and Doctor Who, as portrayed by the delicious John Barrowman.

It wasn't even a sex dream sadly, but I'm sure if I had stayed asleep just a little bit longer I would have gotten to that eventually. I'm certain.



Le sigh. John Barrowman. Singer, actor, Scot, hottie, occasional kilt wearer and (since a civil ceremony in December 27 last year) husband of his long time partner Scott Gill. We love, love, love John Barrowman.



His Doctor Who spin-off series Torchwood starts here very soon and the show is being heavily promoted on tv at the moment. Maybe tonight he'll be in my dreams again, and I'll manage to finally get him out of that great coat.

Anthony Gayton

You know that for a tiny person I don't like to do things in small measures, right? (Except work, exercise, house cleaning... well, you get the idea.) Things I'm into, I'm really into.

Since discovering it recently I've been obssessively hanging out on Fabulon, to the point where Thom is now my new arbiter of all things fabulous. Thom has a great set of photography links on his blog, my recent post about Eugenio Recuenco was courtesy of Thom's links. I just checked out another of Thom's cadre and I think I'm in love!

Remember my admission (and slight over-share) that I have a weak spot for vintage porn? Well the works of Anthony Gayton are most definately not porn, but much of his work does tap into that sort of fabulous vintage homoeroticism. Think vintage guy mags, amateur pics or gay muscle guys on holidays as a few of the themes.

To wit:









Anthony's photos are arranged by 'story' and check out his site for more great pics in these series, and others. Some of his other themes include Renaissance and Medieval paintings, gods and mythology. Gorgeous!

Computer Says "No"

I've just spent a futile 15 minutes trying to find pictures or information about Joel Salem, a cutie patootie (and very skilled) juggler who appeared on the most recent episode of anarchic comedy/burlesque show The Sideshow on ABC tv*. He did this amazing act with electronic gauntlets that were hooked up to some sort of loop machine and mixing desk. During the act he juggled balls, which when bounced off the gauntlets triggered drum beats and sound loops to make a music track and a laser light show.

So, I consulted The Oracle and got no hits. None. Ok, a couple of peripheral mentions of him in reviews but that's it. No photos. (Which is a shame, because he was hella cute.) Not even a MySpace page! WTF?

What I thought was interesting was what it says about my expectations. I'm so used to being able to find info or pics of almost anything on the Interweb. You want Christian clowns? Pages of them. It's so weird to find someone, especially someone in the arts and entertainment industry, who is off the radar. I had to double check just to be sure. I even tried variant spellings, adding the word "juggler" etc (btw - there are a lot of jugglers in Salem, just so you know) but still zip. Joel is off the grid.

I guess it says a lot about how things have changed in just a few short years. With online encyclopedias, wikis and the world of blogs, it's so unusual to not find info about somebody out there. Perhaps Joel might get at least one Google entry after this post...

* That's the Aussie tv channel ABC, for those of you playing along in the Northern Hemisphere.

Suburbia

A couple of snappy snaps from my walk up the street to buy lunch yesterday. I work in deepest, darkest suburbia.

They paved paradise, put up a parking lot.









There's a lot of ugly out there. The sky is pretty though, right?

Literally

"Words in papers, words in books
Words on tv, words for crooks
Words of comfort, words of peace
Words to make the fighting cease
Words to tell you what to do
Words are working hard for you
Eat your words but don't go hungry
Words have always nearly hung me

What are words worth?
What are words worth? - words

Words of nuance, words of skill
And words of romance are a thrill
Words are stupid, words are fun
Words can put you on the run"

"Wordy Rappinghood",
Tom Tom Club, 1981.

Words can also make you want to cover your ears and sing la, la, la, I can't hear you! until the evil goes away.

One of the women I work with is a literalist. A user (and abuser) of that problematic little bastard child, the word literally. She uses it in almost every sentence. Or as she might say, she uses it in literally every sentence. She uses it to mean figuratively, almost, very, or any number of meanings except the true meaning - "in a literal manner, word for word".

Actually, I'm doing her a disservice. Her scatter shot use of the word means that every now and then she chances upon the correct usage. On those occasions I feel like telling her to go and buy a lottery ticket, because it's her lucky day.

I love language. Yes I believe in the rules, and yes I also think that language is a living and changing thing, and a tool that is sometimes most effective when wielded incorrectly. Sometimes. I make my own mistakes and I try not to be too big a pedant. Occasional slips are one thing, but beating a poor defenseless word to death is another thing entirely.

You know how everyone has their bugbear? Their line in the sand? (For some it's even blogworthy.)

Literally.

The Weekend That Was

To paraphrase Dorothy, "My -- ! Weekends come and go so quickly here!"

Sigh. Gone, gone far to soon dear sweet Weekend. I barely knew you, but it sure was fun while it lasted.

Saturday afternoon's cafe Stitch & Bitch was lots of fun, all the goss, laughs, knitting and Peppermint Tea a boy could wish for! Afterwards I met up with my friend (and ex) Stephen for some recreational beverages at The Bank Hotel in Newtown. Since Stephen located to Brisbane a few years ago we don't get to see each other anywhere near enough, and his trips to Sydney are always choc-a-bloc full of social engagements as he tries to catch up with everyone. So, consequently we pack as much quality time together as we can when we get to see each other, in this case over a few early evening beers (for me) and a few Rum & Cokes (for him). I miss him. [insert sad face here]

Sunday morning was some basic common or garden 'lolling'. Reading in bed, a bit of Sunday morning news tv, the making of crepes (with lemon and sugar - yum!), the eating of said crepes and the drinking of coffee.

In the early afternoon I went along to the regular Sunday afternoon Pub Knitting in the beer garden of The Courthouse Hotel in Newtown. We had quite a good turn out this weekend, about 12 or so knitters at its peak and around half of those guys. I dubbed Cecilia (recent TOA reader and commentor!) The Knit Whisperer a few weekends back, for her invaluable technical guidance. Cecilia helped me get my head around a technique for knitting a neat form of edging which looks like a piped edged, called an i cord bind off (scroll down towards the bottom of the page). Oh man! It's like someone let me in on one of the essential cunning secrets of the Universe. I cord bind off! A neat rolled edge! Of course now I want to i cord everything! All the world must have neat rolled edges.

Sunday night was the usual tv of Big Brother (snore), Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy and then an early night. Yay for early nights!

I promise to try and work up a weekend of drunkenness and skanky debauchery sometime soon, just to try and balance out all the Peppermint Tea and knitting...

Sa'urday

Ah! Sweet, sweet Saturday!

It's cool here, but the sun is shining. I have two loads of washing on the line. I've been to the doctor and found out my blood pressure is improving, and that my cholesterol readings are reasonably good (high end of 'normal', but I'm going on some low dose meds to bring it down anyway). Shortly I'm heading off to a local cafe to meet with my friend Judy and a bunch of cool knitters, to sit, knit, drink tea and probably do some bitchin'. Afterwards I'm meeting my friend, and ex boyfriend, the adorable Stephen (who is visiting from Brisbane) for a few afternoon beers and a catch-up.

Life's good.

Time To Exercise Your Good Taste

I need your help. (Does that excite you a bit, to feel so needed?) You see, I've decided that it's time to take off the knitting training wheels. The basketweave scarfe is almost done. The felted satchel, which until now has remained in the shadows, is past the half way point. It's time to start planning for the future. Kicking things up a notch.

I'm thinking 'sweater'.

I found a couple of free easy(ish) looking patterns online that I quite like. Both modelled by the same smoking hot model, which may or may not be part of the appeal. It certainly gives both designs an aspirational quality.

Choice 1: There is enough detail and texture here to make it interesting, yet the construction is pretty simple. No set in sleeves, just a simple dropped shoulder. The entire thing is knit in several variations of rib, which is easy peasy. On the downside, turtleneck. However, the good thing about making it yourself is that if it's hateful, well you can just rip that bit out and do something different! I'd probably knit this in a slightly chunky wool called Rustic from Bendigo Woolen Mills, in a flecked Denim colour.



Choice 2: He's still hot, even with the dumb visor thing. So, much simpler and almost a bit boring. The raglan sleeves are a bit more of a technical challenge (remember, beginner here), but the body of the sweater is plain. I do like the detail of the fat rib (dirty?) at the cuffs and unseen hem. I'd knit the option of a simple rolled kneckband on this one though, as I think a kneckband in that same rib would push it over into hateful. I'm not sure if I'd do this in a solid colour, not orange, or maybe in the same flecked Denim yarn as above.



So. Do we love? Do we hate? Does one get deux points and the other nil points? Do we think Mr model boy should be my next husband? (Answer = yes.) Hit me up in the comments, because inquiring minds need to know.

Separated At Birth?

Exhibit A:



Exhibit B:



I mean, the taste in knitwear is a dead set give-away, right?

What Have I Become?

I was trudging to work this morning. It was cold. I had reached the bottom of the underwear draw this morning, so I had on that pair. The ones with the elastic that's just a tad perished. Consequently they were kind of falling down, and I had to keep hitching them up. My left shoulder was aching (where I broke my collarbone a couple of years back), as was my lower back. Suddenly my bones are now a more accurate barometer than the Channel 9 weather man. I was carrying a canvas tote. A "Big Christian Charity" freebie canvas tote. I think there was even muttering.

Somehow, it seems I am just one pair of support hose stockings away from being someone's loony grandmother.

Green Clean?

One of the things on my To Do list for this weekend is to clean my grubby, grubby house. Ok, to be fair to me it's not that bad, but a few weeks worth of busy weekends have left it untouched for a while now. More than a few weekends really. It's tough for me to get motivated during the working week, in part because I spend a couple of hours each day in a to and from commute. The last thing I feel like doing when I get home is scrubbing the shower alcove. Or the toilet. Or vacuuming. Or dusting...

Anyhoo. I have a guilty secret. I love industrial grade chemicals when it comes to cleaning. I've tried to pretend I don't, but there's a lot to be said for thoroughness. I know, I know. I'm trying to mend the error of my ways, really I am. When I get to the end of the various toxic potions and lotions I've been using I'm going to investigate some less environmentally damaging alternatives. They can get things clean, right? Even though they leave you with all your nasal hairs intact, and don't require a welder's mask?

At lunchtime today I did of bit Google goggling and I discovered a couple of slick looking local suppliers of low impact cleaning products, Todae and Neco. My, my, but eco friendly has come a long way from its hippy origins. No muesli, patchouli and saggy boobs here (although one of them does sell masseur sandals). Todae even has a retail store just a few suburbs over from me, so it's like it's forcing me to get all green and stuff. I like to shop the old fashioned way. Finger the merch. Fork over cash money.

Maybe it's me that's no so far from my hippy origins.

[Updated - 25th May, 2007: I am clearly PSYCHIC because when I arrived home last night my flatmate had done housework! I was greeted by the aroma of lemon scented Mr Sheen! O happy, happy day.]

Here Comes The Bride

This blog entry still keeps sizzling my eyeballs every time I check on this little blog o' mine, so I felt it was time to provide a little balance. Some Yang to that entry's Yin. Some pretty to balance out all the... not pretty.



You're welcome.

The Unique Eye

Sometimes when I'm feeling a bit jaded about photography, I like to refresh my enthusiasm by looking at the work of photographers who are at the top of their game. Inspirational.

I was looking through the wonderful collection of photography links on my new big love Fabulon: Life On A Fabulous Planet (see my previous post) when I came across the work of Eugenio Recuenco. In his own words:

eugenio recuenco is a spanish photographer who is a pain in the ass because he always insists on doing whatever he wants. He works for quite a number of clients both in the advertising and editorial fields all over the World who are also a pain in the ass, because they always want to do whatever they want.

That just made me love him already, you know? Without even seeing a single photo.

But, oh the pictures! The beautiful pictures!!

[Click any of the pics to seem them bigger. It's worth it, they're stunning. Oh, and go visit his website and see them in context, because they are all part of a series.]

Life On A Fabulous Blog

If you can possibly fall in love with a website (and let's face it, it's obviously more than possible, right everyone?) then my new beau on the block is Fabulon: Life On A Fabulous Planet. A heady mix of high fashion, glamazons, high art photography, retro style and camp humour.

Oh. Jeebus. This blog made me laugh out loud a whole bunch of times yesterday.

Try explaning that one to the workers at The Big Christian Charity. (I blamed the Tourette's. Woooop! Betch!)

Riddle Me This

There is something not quite right with this picture.



Any guesses?

[Click the pic to see it bigger. But steel yourself first. Photo via Go Fug Yourself.]

Tagged

The delicious Nash tagged me a few days back for an '8 Random Things or Habits' style meme (his version is here). I hate to disappoint and I love to do as I'm told, so here's my stab at it.

Before I begin I need to give a disclaimer. I've already done the 100 Things thing, heaps of other memes and am fairly open with y'all about myself, so if I repeat things I've already told you then just smile fondly at me like I'm your great aunt who tells you the same story over and over again. Then calls you by the wrong name. And sits clutching her purse on her lap the whole time.

1. I sometimes wake myself up with my own snoring. I don't snore very often, mostly just when I have a bad sinus situation going down. I am however the world's lightest sleeper, which is not a great combination with the doing of the snoring.

2. I like vintage porn. I understand that liking porn is not everybody's cup of tea, and is very much a guy thing, but really who doesn't enjoy a bit of voyeurism every now and then? I'm not sure why vintage porn in particular appeals. Maybe it's the fact that the guys are more natural looking, which is a bigger turn on for me than the waxed and buffed gym bunnies of modern porn. Even the guys in the 50's beefcake and muscle mags seem more natural looking somehow. Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe it reminds me of the illicit mags I bought and hid on top of my wardrobe as a teenager. (What it isn't is the lack of condoms. I'm a pro safe sex slut.)

3. Given deeper pockets, I would be an insufferable wine snob. I did a fantastic wine appreciation course a number of years back, and when Mikey (the lovely ex) and I were together Mikey would often buy very good (and very expensive) wine. In fact, he still does. (Bless him!) Combine these too things together, the knowledge and the exposure, and I have a pretty good palette these days. Champagne taste, on a beer budget however.

4. I love kitsch. Bad taste. Cheese. Trash with flash, and sleaze with ease. I love it all.

5. I suspect that somewhere in me, perhaps buried quite deep, is The Great Australian Novel. Or at least The Reasonably Good One. I just need to get it out, somehow.

6. I tend to eat the things on my plate one by one. It's not a hard and fast rule, but generally speaking I will eat all of one thing on my plate at a time, say all the peas for instance before moving on to all the carrots. I'm not all OCD about it, but I've done it since I was a kid.

7. I'm a folder. Do I really need to explain this?

8. I always read a book before falling asleep. Even if I'm really tired, I always try to have a short read before falling asleep. It may be for only 5 minutes, but it's like a relaxation ritual that I find difficult to skip.

(Nash, I know I'm supposed to tag 8 people but I always skip that part of memes! Anyone who wants to play along please do, just let me know in the comments if you post an entry on your blog.)

Signed "Tightly Wound, of Newtown"

Oh my gah, I was in such a full on, wound up, don't you dare look at me, could you please just stop doing that, snit by the end of yesterday. Maybe it was the planets, bad humours, or the conjunction of Uranus, but by day's end I was a 5'4" bundle o' stress. At least that's a fairly small bundle, you know, on the upside.

Anyhoo. Weird, because once the audit we had on was over I was all sunshine, smiles, fields full of daisies and powder blue unicorns, you know? Making with the happy. Relishing the fact that I got two thumbs up. Which is quite an achievement if you think about it. Who doesn't love a thumb up every now and then?

Eh, I don't know. I put it down to being the complex, layered, nuanced and yet completely open book creature that I am. I'm a little bit country, and yet at the same time I'm also quite thoroughly rock and roll.

3!

I just paid my daily visit to Michael Guy over at Temporary Troublespots and noticed that it was his third blog anniversary on the 20th of May. I'm reading his fab entry, thinking wow, three years! etc, all the time a small niggle starts at the very base of my subconscious and proceeds to slowly shoulder its way to the forebrain. You see, as I recalled Michael and I started blogging around the same time. I should double check that I thought to myself. So I checked my sidebar and went back to my first (kinda boring) entry.

May 20th, 2004!

So, happy third anniversary to me too! For yesterday. Close enough though, right?

Thanks for hanging around everyone. Thanks for reading along, for commenting, for patting my hand through the not so good times, for elbowing me in the ribs for the boring bits, and for the eye rolling when I decide to over-share. You're the best! I'd snuggle you all if I could.

Fight Or Flight

I've got the Auditors here at work this morning, and I've just had a nearly 3 hour session with them. Yup, I was first cab off the rank. It's kind of weird, because much of my job I've had to essentially make up as I go along, with very little guidance or procedural imput. Judging from their feedback I'm doing ok, some things need to be amended a bit or tightened up, but one big plus was their sheer surprise at the volume of work I have to get through each month.

Yes exactly, thank you.

I'm handing this job over in a few weeks to the two part-time staff who will be replacing me, so while I want things to be neat for hand over, ultimately it will soon no longer be my problem.

Soooo. ::exhale:: Audit mostly over. I didn't think I had any significant areas of concern, but you still worry about these things a bit, you know? It's that being judged thing. Having someone cast their critical eye over you. Trying to stay relaxed and not feel defensive.

Most importantly, trying to not give into the Fight Or Flight response. You know, the one that makes you want to lash out when feeling backed into a corner. To go on the attack.

The one that makes you want to point out that they have a $20 haircut and cheap shoes. So far so good.

[Updated: Whew! Feedback is in, we passed with flying colours. When they were leaving we got talking about the fact that I'm finishing up here at the end of June, and they said they'd put a good word in for me at Head Office. They love me. They really LOVE me. I take back all the meanness!]

I Thought Paula Abdul Said That Opposites Attract?

Talk abounds of late about the new agey bit of silliness The Secret. Or 'The Not-So-Secret' given how every one keeps banging on about it. The 'Universal Law of Attraction' that says we 'attract' the things that happen to us based on a principle of 'like attracts like'. Unless you're a magnet I guess.

So, here are some of the things I have 'attracted' to myself in the past few days:

• Poverty.
  
• A mild, and by no means life threatening, brief dose of constipation.
  
• Rain apparently, because it's thundering down outside.
  
• Wet socks. (see above)
  
• A work financial audit on Monday. (I have no need to be nervous about this, but I am anyway. It's that feeling of being judged I guess.)
  
• Celibacy. Which needs fixing, stat.
  

Things I plan on attracting to myself this weekend are:

Next Knitting Project?

I'm not sure, but I could probably make this work don't you think?

Thom Browne, Fall 2007. Photo by FirstView.

[Updated: You know, I should add that one of the things that amuses me so much about this shot is that you just know there is like a totally gorgeous model boy under all that crazy. A totally gorgeous model boy who is thinking to himself "I need a better agent."]

I Made Cupcakes

...and they were bloody delicious.



Remember back when I mentioned buying a cupcake recipe book, and consequently worrying whether I was turning into Martha Stewart or just nesting? Well I bought the new cookbook by the Aussie outfit Crabapple Cupcake Bakery. Verdict = FABULOUS. I made a batch to take to the Eurovision Semi-Finals I went to on Saturday night, and some more for the Finals on Sunday.

The cookbook was easy to follow, the recipe worked like a charm and I even picked up some usefull tips along the way (who new that you got better cake results if the moist ingredients, the milk, eggs and butter, were all at room temperature? I certainly didn't). I ended up with waaaaay too much butter frosting left over, I guess because I was supposed to pile it up high in a great big swirl. Still, I put plenty on and I'm not sure that they might have turned out over the top sweet if I piled more on.

Plus there is something oh so wrong, and yet oh so right, about having a tub of butter frosting in the refrigerator... mmmmmm...

Misty, And Too Much In Love

Ok, first off the bat. What's the difference between fog and mist? I mean, they work together well as rhyming slang. Who hasn't had a night out with the boys and gone home a bit fog & mist? Really. But there is some sort of difference between the two though, right?

::consults the oracle::

M'kay, it seems that like so much in life thickness is paramount. Density. (As an aside, did you know that Princess Anne's ex-husband Mark Phillips was referred to as 'Fog', because he was thick and wet?)

So, this is a long, rambly, roundabout way of saying that I woke to thick mist this morning. Something to do with cold nights, warmer days and temperature of the ocean. Don't you just love science!? Curiously it looks a little less dense in the photo than in real life (if only I could pull that one off), but here is a shot into the mysterious mists from the end of the platform at Redfern train station this morning, part of my daily commute.



Anyone spot a gorilla?

Fugovision

Hah! The Go Fug Yourself girls take on Eurovision.

(Thanks for the heads up Lara!)

And Now For A Short Break

Sorry for the short break in transmission over the past 2 days! No, I wasn't struck down with Post Eurovision Depression. Or overdosed on too many cupcakes and mini-pizzas. But I did wake up with a fever and sore throat late Sunday night and it has been all downhill from there. Fevers. Chills. You know the drill. Some sort of flu-ey thing. So I've spent most of the past two days in bed, with occasional journeys to the sofa and back.

I'm back at work today, feeling and looking like ass (and not in a good way) and already thinking this was big mistake to come back to work. However, if I want to eat anything other than pot noodles next week I have to be here and ride this out, on account of I don't get sick pay. Boo.

I have a massive amount of catching up to do, so posts will perhaps be scarce today. Unless I get bored. Or go home. Or decide to do no work...

I'm Getting A Semi

So, the Eurovision semi finals were a mixed bag. There was Chinese take-away, cupcakes (I made them and they kicked ass, pics to come sometime soon), cocktails and good cheer, and some snappy numbers - on the upside. I always thought I was the target demographic though, you know? As the snerky British co-host of the telecast said (about an email he received) ""We are 4 gay men getting together in Basingstoke to watch the show", like that's never happened before!" (Maybe he was referring to the Basingstoke bit?)

Anyhoo, I digress. My predictions/favourites were way off. Two of my top three got through, and a whole bunch of my lowest scoring acts did too. Oh, did I forget to mention we had score sheets? (The official Eurovision Semi-Finals Score Sheets actually. Yep, I am that person.)

So, tonight is the Finals and then we can all go back to regular programming. Don't you find my excitement just a little intoxicating though? No? I'm on a self imposed media blackout until tonight when we get the delayed telecast. So please, if you've read who wins already somewhere on Das Internetz don't spoiler, m'kay? Just because.

So, this evening I'm off to the lovely James O'Brien's house for the Finals. Judging by how poorly I went with the Semis I think my chances of taking home the prize James has on offer somewhat slim. Eh, a boy can try though, right?

I'm Sorry, But I'm Still Banging On About Eurovision

UK Eurovision entrants SCOOCH are in a spot of hot water about the video of their song, released to cash in coincide with their Eurovision appearance. The very same video which was summarised by reliable pop judges Popjustice as "It's brilliant because it's so shit!! It's what pop is all about!!!".

Anyhoo, that aside. Apparently, if you are going to release a song entitled Flying The Flag (For You) it's best to make sure that you fly the flag the right way 'round. Oops. The whole SCOOCH thing may have bigger repercussions though, I mean it seems that even associating with them can have negative consequences. As I'm sure this fan can attest:



I haven't listened to the song yet, because as I said to Mikey (the lovely ex) in an email earlier today I'm avoiding previewing any of the songs because "I want all the deliciousness to be served fresh!" I have already seen it described as "laboured" and "workmanlike". My special love is for the reviews "I got to 48 seconds before my ears started to bleed and I had to turn it off." and "It's like The Vengaboys never happened." Snerk.

I hope I don't hear it and fall in love with it, because I'm enjoying these reviews way too much.

Putting 2 and Two Together

I had a sudden realisation last night. Right after I got home, and after I had stopped off at a bookshop on the way home and bought a cupcake recipe book. The knitting thing. The wanting to bake cupcakes thing. The obssessively cruising interior design websites like these cool sites.

First thought, rapidly discarded, was that I'm pregnant. After a quick check to confirm the absence of womb (still), I despatched this thought. Second thought, also rapidly discarded after a quick check in the mirror, was that I was turning into Martha Stewart. Then I thought about an off the cuff question and answer with Graeme on Wednesday night at the pub.

[Whilst talking about guys, relationships, you know Boy Talk...]

Graeme: Do you want a boyfriend?
Me: [Nano-second pause] Yes. Yes I do.

So there. It's nesting. I'm not sure yet whether I'm trying to make myself into a Trophy Wife or a Chubby Hubby, but meanwhile I think I'm off to look at the Golden Retriever ads in the paper...

Turn On The Sun

Nash did this What Tarot Card Are You? thingy the other day, and I hadn't done one of these quizzes in ages so I wandered over and checked it out.

I am The Sun baby! Joy! Fresh! Clarity of mind! Youthfull energy! (Um, oh-kay. Sure.) Given my love of all things Eurovision Song Contest-y, the understanding of "beautifully constructed music" is already a given though, right?

---

You are The Sun

Happiness, Content, Joy.

The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.

Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.

The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

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Oh, and I should say that I took this test while hungover, so I was all like grump, grump, grump, whatever for most of the day. Hah! Yet still I'm all light, clarity and joyousness people. I frickin' rock, apparently.

The Cards never lie.

The Eurovision Checklist

1. Boybands


The Spanish boys of D'NASH have all promised to be my boyfriends.
OMG! LOL.


2. Drag


"DQ" from Denmark. Any guesses on what the initials stand for?


3. Pyrotechnics


Ooooh, sparkly!


Ooooh, lame!


4. Divas


Work. That. Windmachine, Finland!


5. Strange Themes


Malta reprises a touring company production of "Miss Saigon".


Oh, how embarassment! As does Portugal...


While the UK present a 3 minute hommage to budget air travel.


6. Big Hair


One of the lost tribes of Switzerland, rediscovered!


7. 'Hard Rock' Acts That Aren't


Iceland gets all 'cock rock'.


8. National Costumes


Greece wearing the traditional mini-toga.


9. 'Emo' Ballads In Fractured English


Lithuania, represent!


10. Persons Of Indeterminate Gender


The Serbian singer person.

It looks like we're all set!

This Can Only Mean One Thing

Either it's Christmas and trees are in short supply in the Ukraine...



Or, Dame Edna and Divine had a secret love child...



Or, it's Verka Serduchka, the Ukrainian entrant in The Eurovision Song Contest!



Ah, Eurovision! My love for you knows no bounds.

Hold The Maio

Um, I know I'm a tad hungover after last night's drinking with the boys*, but perhaps I'm still drunk... Is it just me or have the month heading on my sidebar all of a sudden changed to a foreign laguage? Maio? Abril? Feveriero? (I think Feveriero is my favourite.)

Quell exotique! Ja?

Of course, if this miraculously all changes back shortly then this entry will make no sense, but you don't come here for sense right? Just take my word for it, that for a brief and glorious moment things were even stranger than usual around here.

* On the topic of hangovers. I'm not exactly saying that it was all James O'Brien's fault, but it has now passed the realms of coincidence, don't you think?

[Updated: Ok, I just refreshed and now it's all back to English. Weird.]

Viva La Hump Day!

Wednesday. The half way point, or as the Germans romantically call it Mittwoch, Mid-week. Wednesday is like the first sock of sock knitting, a bit of an acheivement to just get there, but still only halfway done. The still ouchy (but thankfully much better) lightly sprained ankle and I had a rather poor night's sleep last night, and I'm feeling a tad weary today. On top of the regular Mittwochian fatigue.

I used to be a trainer in a particular type of bookkeeping software, one of the reasons why I was hired in this job, and today I have to test 5 candidates vying to be my replacement. (I have to leave or take a permanent position here by the end of June, and as I'm of declining enthusiasm for the position and the permanent pay they're offering sucks I've elected to go once they have my replacements. Yup they're replacing me with two people, I'm that good.) This testing sort of means having to be ON, you know? Putting the person at ease. Thinking up simple tasks for them to do. Trying to hold back from actually coaching them instead of testing them. Or today, trying not to be mean.

Not that I would, be mean that is. But you know, when you're tired and whatever...

I did this once before, testing applicants in the same role as me but for another new service that was starting up. It was kind of shocking and even hilarious at times. It certainly showed who lies on their CV and who doesn't. One applicant just stared at the screen, unable to even open the software, slammed back her chair, grabbed her bag, fixed me with a steely stare and said "I think we're both wasting each other's time, don't you?". Apparently so.

So. My Mittwoch is going to be mentally taxing, will probably stop me from getting finished all the other work I really need to be doing, yet may turn up some unexpected entertainment. Then tonight, a few beers with the boys, possibly including this sweetie. As is traditional, any hangovers will be deemed his fault.

RIP Mad Hatter

Rest in piece Isabella Blow.

Photo: Stevel Meisel, 1993.

Possessor of one of the best names ever. Style maverick. Talent spotter (I mean Philip Treacy, Alexander McQueen & Hussein Chalayan - that's quite some trifecta). Fashion eccentric. Millinery consumer ne plus ultra.

Yarny

I'm trying to take my mind off the fact that my twisted ankle hurts like a muthaf*cker. So bear with me as I attempt to distract myself by thinking pretty thoughts, thoughts that don't include my ankle hurts like a muthaf*cker.

So. After a heads up from Lara last week about the opening of the new website for Bendigo Woollen Mills, I decided to check them out online and then ordered shade cards of their great value yarns so I could get a better idea of the colours. They arrived in yesterday's post and I'm glad I ordered them, because many of the colours are much nicer than they appear on the interweb. Something worth considering if your thinking of ordering. Just email them and they will send you out some shade cards gratis.

That's all. Sweet Jeebus, my ankle hurts.

The Having Of The Cranky Pants

If you came here today looking for glitter rainbows, misty valleys and powder blue unicorns then run, save yourselves. I'm cranky. Not all caps italic CRANKY, just regular lower case cranky.

I woke up feeling weird this morning, dry throat and a bit achey which may be a) advancing years or b) the start of some sort of bug. I sat on the couch for 10 minutes staring dead eyed at the morning news and considering whether it really would be nicer to stay in bed and read my book, even if it means giving up a day's pay. Fiscal needs won out, sadly.

I need to get this stat dec thingy signed for work, basically to say that I don't have a police record. Of course the deadline is today. Of course I didn't think to bring my passport as ID, because I don't have a driver's licence. So of course nobody will witness the damn thing.

I twisted my ankle walking up the street to the office. It's not real bad, just a bit achey. I don't think I've done any major damage to it, maybe just a very light sprain.

So there. In hindsight, I think I should have just given up the day's pay. You know those sorts of days? Just better to decide not to participate.

Countdown To Eurovision.

It's just around the corner now. My toes are already curling in anticipation. My ears are already tingling at the thought of all those three minute (max), key change probable (but optional), pop gems. Some will be polished gems, some will be diamonds in the rough and some will prove the old adage You can't polish a turd. Many will make no sense at all. Drinking games will be devised, such as Scull Your Drink When You See A Jumpsuit or Everyone Downs A Shot Each Time The Hosts Fill An Awkward Moment By Saying "Great!".

The real source of my excitement though, the real thing that gets my junk tingling, is that my favourite Swedish crypto-homo glam rockers "The Ark" are singing their little hearts out for Sweden.



I can't wait.

Pausing & Reflecting

Monday morning is a time for reflection. Not just reflecting on the thoughts "Please God, let me be anywhere else than here at my desk." and "How little work can I do today without anyone noticing?". Maybe, perhaps, also a time to look back upon the recent past, the weekend say, and pause and reflect on the good times. To allow the soft focus veil of nostalgia to descend.

Saturday began with a brief bloodletting by my doctor. Nothing like a good leeching to balance the humours! (Actually it was just a cholesterol test.) And because my doctor likes to be the bearer of good news, he also informed me that my blood pressure continues to descend without the aid of modern pharmacopeia. Yay me.

I headed into Chinatown afterward for a fantastic Yum Cha brunch at Zilver with Mikey (the lovely ex), Natalie, her mum Sandra, Linda and her new beau Ted. Much cholesterol enhancing fatty, salty, yum cha-y goodness was consumed. Nummy. Afterwards we headed to a nearby pub for an al fesco early afternoon beer in the glorious sunshine, before Mikey and I headed off to the cinema to see Spiderman 3.

What Mikey and I didn't realise when we bought our tickets was that it was a special Annoying People Get In Free Day at the cinema. The talkers behind us. The guy rustling through his backpack and talking back to the screen beside Mikey. The guy further along the row alongside me who made a call on his mobile phone during the film. "Can you hear me? Can you you hear me?", oh honey we all can. So, I admit to being a tad distracted by thoughts of crushing someone's head during the film. Even so, the film was quite good, quite enjoyable, and quite long. Not exactly 'meh', because there were big slabs of it that were really good, but still not quite brilliant. Worth seeing, but not my favourite of the franchise.

I capped the day off with a quiet night in with the teev and my knitting. The scarf continues apace.

Sunday I had a lazy morning lying in bed, reading a fantasy novel lent to me by my flatmate's daughter, "Luck In The Shadows" by Lynn Flewelling. I hadn't read any fantasy for a while, and although I didn't have high expectations I'm really enjoying it. Central to the plot is the burgeoning love affair of the two main male characters, even though it doesn't really read as a 'gay novel' as such. So far so good. (Lynn Flewelling has a livejournal if you're interested.) In the early afternoon I headed into Bradfield Park on the Harbour foreshore for Amy's (aka GadgetGirl) graduation congratulatory afternoon tea. See my previous post for pictorial goodness.

Can I just say, it's somewhat disconcerting when everyone starts a conversation by repeating back to me stuff they've read on my blog. It's nice, but it does sort of take the conversational wind out of my sails a bit. They've already heard it all, you know? Amy's mum is visiting from the US, and it was fun to find out that she's a reader too! Holla Lynne!

Much insufficiently chilled Sauvignon Blanc was consumed, along with assorted nibbly bits, photos were taken and laughs had. Around sunset we called it a day, having had a lovely afternoon. Sunday evening was the usual Ugly Betty/Grey's Anatomy tv session before calling it an early night.

Good times, good times. You?

Pretty As A Postcard

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you - Sydney Harbour!

First off, the Sydney Opera House. It's mighty pretty, either in full sun or at sunset:



That bridge is a handsome piece of engineering too, and not at all bad for a 75 year old. Also, turn and look the other way, to your right, and not only do you see the tops of the lovely Art Deco towers of the historic Luna Park amusement park, but the working harbour and Glebe Island Bridge in all their glory too:



Yesterday my friend Amy (aka GadgetGirl) had a late afternoon boozefest afternoon tea at Bradfield Park, nestled down on the harbour's edge between the Bridge and Luna Park, to celebrate her graduation as a fully fledged 'Libarian'[sic]. The weather was gorgeous, and so were we. Enough said.

[Click any of the pics to see them bigger.]