Monday, October 3, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
For a girl!
Let it be known that despite popular opinion I am not that short......for a girl. My height has been the point of much mirth and deridement over the past few years, usually by the opposite gender. Yes, I am shorter than most males but this is not unnatural at all and really not that funny. In fact it is the most natural thing and shows how incredibly normal my height is. As we learn in school humans are sexually dimorphic meaning one gender, in our case males, are generally physically larger than the other, females. Many women seem to attract ridicule from men regarding their height but really it's like teasing someone for having two arms or using their legs to walk. Sexual dimorphism does not mean men are better than women because they are usually larger and stronger. Did you know that women produce antibodies faster than men meaning we are less likely to catch infectious dieseases and will be able to get rid of them quicker! So ladies next time some smart Alec decides to make a quip about how you are "vertically challenged" smile to yourself and remember that in a few years when there is some terrible pandemic spreading throughout the world like something out of an 80s apocalyptic horror movie you shall be far more likely to be one of the few survivors than he will
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Hyberbole - it's my favourite sport.
"Freedom! Liberty! Tyranny is dead!" I am sure you have heard this cried in the streets. Not in the wake of Hussein's capture or Gaddafi's absence but in the suburban streets of this very nation. Joyous house wives and/or hubbies, gather their children around them, and with bright eyes and voices that quaver ever so slightly they say 'dream, children, dream - our dark clouds have lifted and our futures are what we make of it!' You see, the bane of our western lives have been scrounged by an enterprising, innovative and fearless company who dared to imagine a life unyoked by our cruel master - the dastardly washing peg. Thank God Ezyline, the peg-less clothesline, has saved us all from falling over because we had to carry those unwieldy and colourless pegs. Now our clothes can hang in the eternal sunshine, soaking up the glorious warmth and come off the line not by the wind or some other element to which those pegs so villanously gave them up to, but by our own hand and most probably, cleaner and brighter, and ironed and folded. Such is the legend of our noble liberator! We are "free from the tyranny of pegs", thank you Ezyline - I will name my first born after you.
Isn't this fun. You take something fairly ordinary. You open a thesaurus. And hey presto! Sensation. Calamity. Scandal. Yet again, the Phoenix rises. Sport, and there is more of it.
I was driving past a new housing estate in Perth, the sign by the entry told of wonder akin to the grandiose settings of a Tolkien novel, "...Blocks that will leave you stunned!" I took a look around, I wondered if I should call my mum and let her know what I was up to - who knows how long I could have layed there in the car, zonked out by the all the glory? Um, well yeah - my vitals remained steady, I wasn't even at a loss for words, 'anticlimax' being only the first in a long line, feeling hungry I continued my search for lunch.
Other favourites; Lindsy Lohan likes a tipple and a line of grown-up's sherbet followed by a short drive in her fast car. Good heavens! How could I neglect to mention - she isn't... SUNSMART!!!! The tragedy of a red head with freckles. Yes, all of this information was in one paragraph of a whole article in some hard hitting gossip magazine. Drink Coke and welcome to the eternal fountain of forever young, hotness, back flips and being held on to by the love of your life. Def not rotten teeth, bloated belly and caffeine addiction, don't be silly.
And yet, as ridiculous as all this paints society, I love it. Heck, I contribute to it almost with every sentence I breathe. So join me, get fit, get hyper-boling.
Isn't this fun. You take something fairly ordinary. You open a thesaurus. And hey presto! Sensation. Calamity. Scandal. Yet again, the Phoenix rises. Sport, and there is more of it.
I was driving past a new housing estate in Perth, the sign by the entry told of wonder akin to the grandiose settings of a Tolkien novel, "...Blocks that will leave you stunned!" I took a look around, I wondered if I should call my mum and let her know what I was up to - who knows how long I could have layed there in the car, zonked out by the all the glory? Um, well yeah - my vitals remained steady, I wasn't even at a loss for words, 'anticlimax' being only the first in a long line, feeling hungry I continued my search for lunch.
Other favourites; Lindsy Lohan likes a tipple and a line of grown-up's sherbet followed by a short drive in her fast car. Good heavens! How could I neglect to mention - she isn't... SUNSMART!!!! The tragedy of a red head with freckles. Yes, all of this information was in one paragraph of a whole article in some hard hitting gossip magazine. Drink Coke and welcome to the eternal fountain of forever young, hotness, back flips and being held on to by the love of your life. Def not rotten teeth, bloated belly and caffeine addiction, don't be silly.
And yet, as ridiculous as all this paints society, I love it. Heck, I contribute to it almost with every sentence I breathe. So join me, get fit, get hyper-boling.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
It's that time again...
So, spring has sprung which means so have my sinuses. Yes ladies and gents it's time for another rant against hayfever......or is it? As it turns out it actually isn't. Oh no this blog is actually a casting call for a new musical I shall be writing. This musical shall be a prequel to a famous movie/book and shall explain how the main antagonist, an evil witch, came to be the way she is. Sound familiar? Wait and see!
My musical shall be a prequel to The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe and shall explain why the White Witch decided to cast Narnia into perpetual winter. You see its my belief that she was a longterm sufferer of hayfever. Frustrated year after year by irritated sinuses, dry, itchy eyes and little relief from medication she decided to cast a spell which would ensure, in Narnia, it was never spring. Unfortunately what she did not realise is that it would mean the seasons would not move past winter, for you cannot have a summer without a spring.
The musical will conclude with the revelation of the real key to the demise of the White Witch. After so many years being clothed in winter and the very sudden change to spring brought about by Aslan the eruption of pollen into Narnia's air was so great that the witch was severely weakened by a debilitating bout of hayfever and was thus much easier to over come.
Expressions of interest are now open for positions of musical director, stage manager, costume designer and members of the cast
My musical shall be a prequel to The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe and shall explain why the White Witch decided to cast Narnia into perpetual winter. You see its my belief that she was a longterm sufferer of hayfever. Frustrated year after year by irritated sinuses, dry, itchy eyes and little relief from medication she decided to cast a spell which would ensure, in Narnia, it was never spring. Unfortunately what she did not realise is that it would mean the seasons would not move past winter, for you cannot have a summer without a spring.
The musical will conclude with the revelation of the real key to the demise of the White Witch. After so many years being clothed in winter and the very sudden change to spring brought about by Aslan the eruption of pollen into Narnia's air was so great that the witch was severely weakened by a debilitating bout of hayfever and was thus much easier to over come.
Expressions of interest are now open for positions of musical director, stage manager, costume designer and members of the cast
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Cruel to be Kind
To the little girl sitting with her parents next to me in Dome
Yes. Your mum does want to go on a holiday with Sarah ALL BY HERSELF! I'm sure she is aware that YOU ARE HER DAUGHTER TOO but it's quite obvious that you are not the favorite so get the flip over it. And to be perfectly honest if you were my child I'd be taking Sarah too. I'm sure your sister doesn't sit there and interrupt conversations your parents are having every 10 seconds with insightful comments such as YOU AREN'T EATING ANYTHING! ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO EAT THAT? YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO EAT IT WHY AREN'T YOU EATING IT? Sarah isn't here and apart from being your sister I have no other knowledge of her but Im quietly confident her voice is not as loud and irritating as yours. Yet another reason as to why your mother is choosing her over you to go on a holiday to some, as yet, undisclosed location.
Yes. Your mum does want to go on a holiday with Sarah ALL BY HERSELF! I'm sure she is aware that YOU ARE HER DAUGHTER TOO but it's quite obvious that you are not the favorite so get the flip over it. And to be perfectly honest if you were my child I'd be taking Sarah too. I'm sure your sister doesn't sit there and interrupt conversations your parents are having every 10 seconds with insightful comments such as YOU AREN'T EATING ANYTHING! ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO EAT THAT? YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO EAT IT WHY AREN'T YOU EATING IT? Sarah isn't here and apart from being your sister I have no other knowledge of her but Im quietly confident her voice is not as loud and irritating as yours. Yet another reason as to why your mother is choosing her over you to go on a holiday to some, as yet, undisclosed location.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
"Gay your life must be"
As a child I always had an issue with that line from the traditional 'Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree' but not because of any reference to sexuality. I did not erupt into childish fits of laughter but was rather perplexed at the meaning of the line. In particular I struggled with the word "MUST". "Gay your life MUST be" sounded to me like a rather threatening demand. Why must the kookaburra be happy and exuberant all the time? What if he was having a rough day? What if he was suffering from serious depression? Is he meant to mask those emotions and put on a jolly exterior for the amusement of others? Why is he unable to express his true self and forced to play to some ridiculous stereotype? Who came up with this rule in the first place? I'd like to see how they would cope with such an outrageous demand! These poor kookaburras are being allowed no expression of self which can be quite damaging......oh no hang on a minute I see now. "Gay your life must be" as in "you must be having such a wonderful time in your life as you seem to be laughing all the time" not "you must have a happy life or there will be terrible consequences". Still, it could be all fake laughter.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Spoiler Alert
Ladies and gentlemen it has come to my attention recently that there are number of you out there concerned about the possibility of a real zombie invasion or the likelihood of the sun expanding and consuming the earth or that maybe, just maybe, we will soon be embroiled in a global war and shall end up destroying each other as our humanity slowly fades with the desperate struggle for survival. None of these shall come to pass. I am quite certain of it. I know exactly how the human race will be forever expunged from the face of the planet and I recommend that if you are in any way a hysterical or paranoid person that you cease reading this blog entry for the sake of your own sanity and peace of mind.
Cephalopods everyone. That is how we will be brought down, by cephalopods. I have no confirmation on this from any reliable sources, in fact I have formulated this whole theory on my own, but the signs are there! Cephalopods, for those who are not strangely obsessed with marine biology, are really just squid and octopuses. "What's so scary about them?" you may ask "I mean I know they are incredibly ugly and creepy looking and what the heck is with the eight to ten arms but they can't take over the world....can they?" you may continue. Cephalopods are the most intelligent and the fastest of all marine invertebrates. They move by JET PROPULSION and some of them can fly through the air for up to 50m! I think I'd struggle to sprint 50m let alone fly. They have brains throughout their whole body, thousands of taste buds all over their suckers, incredible eyesight and statocysts which means they can detect gravity! They have more than one heart. They are amazing at camouflage and can communicate to each other by flashing signals across their bodies. Sometimes when they are scared they leave an ink trail which mirrors their body shape so their predator will be confused. How do they do that? I struggle with bubblegum! They have long and short term memory and the scariest thing of all.....they are observational learners. They watch other creatures and learn from them. They watch us and learn from us. Soon they will have gathered enough information to band together, crawl out of the ocean and begin to destroy our cities. There are so many of them that it is bound to happen one day. You may think we are safe because we are so much larger than them but what about the giant or colossal squid which can grow to 13 or 14m long! No one is safe.
I'm sorry if I have frightened some of you with this disturbing tale of impending doom but I really do feel the people deserve the truth. Every time you see a friend or family member make sure you tell them how much they really mean to you because you never know when the tentacle of a cephalopod could end their life forever.
P
Cephalopods everyone. That is how we will be brought down, by cephalopods. I have no confirmation on this from any reliable sources, in fact I have formulated this whole theory on my own, but the signs are there! Cephalopods, for those who are not strangely obsessed with marine biology, are really just squid and octopuses. "What's so scary about them?" you may ask "I mean I know they are incredibly ugly and creepy looking and what the heck is with the eight to ten arms but they can't take over the world....can they?" you may continue. Cephalopods are the most intelligent and the fastest of all marine invertebrates. They move by JET PROPULSION and some of them can fly through the air for up to 50m! I think I'd struggle to sprint 50m let alone fly. They have brains throughout their whole body, thousands of taste buds all over their suckers, incredible eyesight and statocysts which means they can detect gravity! They have more than one heart. They are amazing at camouflage and can communicate to each other by flashing signals across their bodies. Sometimes when they are scared they leave an ink trail which mirrors their body shape so their predator will be confused. How do they do that? I struggle with bubblegum! They have long and short term memory and the scariest thing of all.....they are observational learners. They watch other creatures and learn from them. They watch us and learn from us. Soon they will have gathered enough information to band together, crawl out of the ocean and begin to destroy our cities. There are so many of them that it is bound to happen one day. You may think we are safe because we are so much larger than them but what about the giant or colossal squid which can grow to 13 or 14m long! No one is safe.
I'm sorry if I have frightened some of you with this disturbing tale of impending doom but I really do feel the people deserve the truth. Every time you see a friend or family member make sure you tell them how much they really mean to you because you never know when the tentacle of a cephalopod could end their life forever.
P
Friday, August 5, 2011
Not Nigella...
The left side of my face is in pain. From temple to cheekbone is puffy as if I have just had my first round of botox. I feel heat coming from it and I suspect a bruise is waiting to surface. Domesticity is not my second nature and it surely is not for those who can't take a little punishment. Don't worry, we don't have stairs in our house, I am too tall to be walking face first into door knobs, I always have a bathmat down when showering/bathing to avoid slipping. P does not kiss with her knuckles. The only abuse I have been suffering is from our clothes line. P and I will intermittently be separating (never fear, blog flow will not slow down (it would actually be impossible to be any less frequent (unless offcourse we stop altogether and P won't let me (not that I really want to, it's just that I have been consumed with other details and I apologise for being MIA (not actually MIA because I am actually S))))). Hello, welcome back from the tangent. So, we are vacating premises and that means that the most trying housecleaning test lies before us. I got started nice and early with the most arduous task - sorting through all my photos whilst reclining in bed with coffee. Then at around 10am I started on the laundry, dishes and library. By 11am the towels had washed and since it is a nice sunny day and it is winter and global warming is making me feel bright, sunshiny and a little guilty, I decided to brave the long grown dewy lawn, and make it to the clothes line in the backyard. I had hung the second last towel and inspiration strikes for a humorous greeting card that I could fashion. Using my new phone (RIP Nokia E97 (see blog, 'Ode to the Lost')) I capture the image of the washing peg which doubled as my muse, and whilst musing on the various lines that would accompany said image I hang the final towel and with it my the secret joy I had for having a trauma-free face. The stupid thing, hereinto hinged to the wall to form a pleasing right angle, crashes down on my head forming a decidedly less pleasing acute angle and causing me acute pain. I lay slain. I become damp from the lax grass. I know that I will never be like Nigella. This would never have happened to her. Realising that death is not actually imminent, recovered from shock, having curbed swearing at only one or two emphatic blows, quietly pleased that I did not cry and a little disquieted that tomorrow I might be considered grotesque at work, I picked myself up.
I verbally and physically corrected the washing line. I found a neglected bag frost-bitten beans from the depths of the freezer and applied it to my face. I proceeded to clean and pack single handedly. I went to a service station for tea. I am not a domestic goddess.
S.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Bombshell
Dear Henry Cavill,
wow this is really awkward I don't even no where to begin. I've recently received news that you're engaged to be married to a certain younghussy cow bitc lady named Ellen Whitaker. This came as quite a shock, did you not read my last letter? I was quite concerned that I had received no reply for some months but just assumed you were too busy swanning around being incredibly charming and ridiculously good looking. This however, was totally unexpected. Where on earth did this come from? I wasn't even aware you had a girlfriend, much less a smoking hot, blonde bimbo, international show jumping champion! I'm so sorry for writing to you earlier I feel terrible as I would never knowingly try to break you and your girlfriend/fiance up no matter who she was.
That being said I am a little concerned that you may be rushing into this without really considering if she is quite the right person for you or if maybe someone else (me), would be a more appropriate match. I mean granted, she is a horse jumping champion, but she has 12 horses. Bit extravagant don't you think? I know nothing about show jumping (I can learn if you really want me to) but I do know that you can only use one horse at a time so what's the point in having 12? Especially if one happens to be the most expensive horse to be imported in to England at the staggering price of 1,000,000 Euros. I think these two facts reveal a lot about how her relationships work as well. Having 12 horses obviously meansshes a slu she doesn't value loyalty or monogamy. The million euro horse she has she doesn't even own, her dad bought it! Imagine the lavish and expensive gifts she will expect from you Henry (I would never ask for anything except your love and devotion).
Henry all I ask is that you just think carefully before you marry Ellen and in the end follow your heart. I will always love you and respect the choice you make and if you do choose her and get married and then quite suddenly after the wedding all her horses legs are being broken and the tires on her car are always slashed and then she gets killed in a horrific hit and run accident I just want you to know that I will be there for you.........every day.......waiting outside your house
Yours ever affectionately (and seriously way more affectionately than any aristocratic English girl would ever be capable of)
P
wow this is really awkward I don't even no where to begin. I've recently received news that you're engaged to be married to a certain young
That being said I am a little concerned that you may be rushing into this without really considering if she is quite the right person for you or if maybe someone else (me), would be a more appropriate match. I mean granted, she is a horse jumping champion, but she has 12 horses. Bit extravagant don't you think? I know nothing about show jumping (I can learn if you really want me to) but I do know that you can only use one horse at a time so what's the point in having 12? Especially if one happens to be the most expensive horse to be imported in to England at the staggering price of 1,000,000 Euros. I think these two facts reveal a lot about how her relationships work as well. Having 12 horses obviously means
Henry all I ask is that you just think carefully before you marry Ellen and in the end follow your heart. I will always love you and respect the choice you make and if you do choose her and get married and then quite suddenly after the wedding all her horses legs are being broken and the tires on her car are always slashed and then she gets killed in a horrific hit and run accident I just want you to know that I will be there for you.........every day.......waiting outside your house
Yours ever affectionately (and seriously way more affectionately than any aristocratic English girl would ever be capable of)
P
Monday, May 30, 2011
White and Nerdy
So apparently 'geek chic' is very fashionable at the moment and nerds are 'so hot right now' but after much thought and deliberation I feel that this is very far from the case.
I have been a bit of a geek and a nerd my entire life so I am well versed in many areas of what would constitute such a label. The geekery which we see displayed in fashion and the media at the present is but a mere scratch at the surface and I believe the best has not been accepted by the mainstream. We see at the moment that it's very 'cool' to wear big glasses, lacy socks with black lace up shoes, have a Penguin Classic tucked under the arm and wear bow ties and braces. I blame a lot of this on the hipsters who I believe to be the antithesis of nerds and geeks the world over.
It's cool at the moment to like Star Wars and wear a t-shirt with Darth Vader's face plastered on the front in some awful pink print but is Star Wars really cool? I think not. Sci-fi has always been a favourite among many geeks and for the present appears to be embraced by our society but, knowing all the names of the bounty hunters from Star Wars or being able to instantly recognise a Mandalorian helmet will not get you any popularity points. It's still going to weird people out. And can I just say that while having glasses may be really 'awesome' actually having bad eyesight sucks. It's expensive, inconvenient and can be very embarrassing when the optometrist in primary school asks you to read the eye chart and you can't even see the giant 'A' right at the top.
I'm a nerd and I enjoy it but I am under no false pretences that this makes me 'cool' or fashionable. The highlights of my week so far have been seeing that they have brought out a Star Wars Mighty Beanz range (including collectible Darth Vader carry tin) and getting 'SHOULDER' in Boggle this morning (whilst playing by myself and yes I did dance ecstatically around the house in my pyjamas). I think if the elite fashion industry or the hipsters found this out I would be shunned from their society forever and this does not phase me at all because their insipid version of nerdiness could never measure up to the fun and joy I get from watching all 6 Star Wars movies back to back
P
I have been a bit of a geek and a nerd my entire life so I am well versed in many areas of what would constitute such a label. The geekery which we see displayed in fashion and the media at the present is but a mere scratch at the surface and I believe the best has not been accepted by the mainstream. We see at the moment that it's very 'cool' to wear big glasses, lacy socks with black lace up shoes, have a Penguin Classic tucked under the arm and wear bow ties and braces. I blame a lot of this on the hipsters who I believe to be the antithesis of nerds and geeks the world over.
It's cool at the moment to like Star Wars and wear a t-shirt with Darth Vader's face plastered on the front in some awful pink print but is Star Wars really cool? I think not. Sci-fi has always been a favourite among many geeks and for the present appears to be embraced by our society but, knowing all the names of the bounty hunters from Star Wars or being able to instantly recognise a Mandalorian helmet will not get you any popularity points. It's still going to weird people out. And can I just say that while having glasses may be really 'awesome' actually having bad eyesight sucks. It's expensive, inconvenient and can be very embarrassing when the optometrist in primary school asks you to read the eye chart and you can't even see the giant 'A' right at the top.
I'm a nerd and I enjoy it but I am under no false pretences that this makes me 'cool' or fashionable. The highlights of my week so far have been seeing that they have brought out a Star Wars Mighty Beanz range (including collectible Darth Vader carry tin) and getting 'SHOULDER' in Boggle this morning (whilst playing by myself and yes I did dance ecstatically around the house in my pyjamas). I think if the elite fashion industry or the hipsters found this out I would be shunned from their society forever and this does not phase me at all because their insipid version of nerdiness could never measure up to the fun and joy I get from watching all 6 Star Wars movies back to back
P
Friday, March 18, 2011
So I've heard
Do you ever listen in to random people's conversations as you pass by and feel they are much more interesting than any conversation you have had? Perhaps you were sitting by yourself in a coffee shop pretending to read a book but really you were eavesdropping on anyone within earshot? I do. My favourite is to listen to people in the next aisle in a shopping centre. If they are alone in the aisle they can't see anyone and therefore think no one can hear them. Fools. We can hear you. We are the Secret Listeners.
I think I have been a Secret Listener (or SL) for my whole life. I'm not a CSL (Chronic Secret Listener), it's not a problem and I don't do it to everyone. Just every now and then I like to listen in on someone's conversation and I have heard some very fascinating and sometimes scary things.
For example I was on a bus once with a father and son behind me. The son, who's age approximate to be 8, suddenly asked his father: "Dad. Are you going to cut my head off?" I cannot recall the father's response as I was reeling from the questions raised by the son's query and whether or not I should call Child Services as soon as I stepped off the bus. Another favourite of mine was one in the shops where a young male said to his friends "Yeah, being a checkout chick is hell easy. I could do it. It's just the chick part I'd have a problem with." As you can see, from just these two sentences, being a SL gives a great insight into how diverse our society is. A good coffee shop example would be when a group of young girls were discussing the chocolate dusting on top of their hot chocolates and one had the exciting anecdote: "There was this one place I went to, in Perth, where they had music notes and love hearts on top.............It was crazy." Yeah it sounds well crazy, I'm surprised you left it til now to share this astounding story with your friends, in fact I bet it's so crazy that it's the type of place which you can only visit once every few months because the craziness would just be too much, lucky it's in Perth otherwise I don't think we could sleep living so near a place like that. Yes it's very hard as a SL to not respond to a comment or question but the secrecy must be maintained. That's the whole point of being a SL.
Maybe you think being a SL is weird and an invasion of privacy but I don't care. It's entertaining, informs me of the world in which I live in and gives me something to blog about.
SLANAOIP
(Secret Listener and not ashamed of it P)
I think I have been a Secret Listener (or SL) for my whole life. I'm not a CSL (Chronic Secret Listener), it's not a problem and I don't do it to everyone. Just every now and then I like to listen in on someone's conversation and I have heard some very fascinating and sometimes scary things.
For example I was on a bus once with a father and son behind me. The son, who's age approximate to be 8, suddenly asked his father: "Dad. Are you going to cut my head off?" I cannot recall the father's response as I was reeling from the questions raised by the son's query and whether or not I should call Child Services as soon as I stepped off the bus. Another favourite of mine was one in the shops where a young male said to his friends "Yeah, being a checkout chick is hell easy. I could do it. It's just the chick part I'd have a problem with." As you can see, from just these two sentences, being a SL gives a great insight into how diverse our society is. A good coffee shop example would be when a group of young girls were discussing the chocolate dusting on top of their hot chocolates and one had the exciting anecdote: "There was this one place I went to, in Perth, where they had music notes and love hearts on top.............It was crazy." Yeah it sounds well crazy, I'm surprised you left it til now to share this astounding story with your friends, in fact I bet it's so crazy that it's the type of place which you can only visit once every few months because the craziness would just be too much, lucky it's in Perth otherwise I don't think we could sleep living so near a place like that. Yes it's very hard as a SL to not respond to a comment or question but the secrecy must be maintained. That's the whole point of being a SL.
Maybe you think being a SL is weird and an invasion of privacy but I don't care. It's entertaining, informs me of the world in which I live in and gives me something to blog about.
SLANAOIP
(Secret Listener and not ashamed of it P)
Monday, February 28, 2011
Vegetable Connoisuer
The musings of a farmer's market casual employee...
There is a guesthouse called the Noble Grape and I have often wondered at the title, pictured a grape resplendent in battle dress, slaying grape enemies and bestowing grace when its conscience demanded so. As I stand here, in the echo and re-echo of beep beep scanners, and the orders of military matriarchs organising their familial rabble, "You fetch a box, you pack out, you pack in, out the way, stand aside, no, the heavier stuff goes first, shit! I forgot the cheese, you get a block o'cheddar..." I begin to question the possibility of a savage potato. Can a potato truly be savage, perhaps if you consider an older one that has been kept in the dark (literal dark, as in not keeping the identity of its real parents from it, or the state of its credit card debt) so that it has become a little green, soft and possesses several unseeing eyes. No, this strikes me more as a once reliable potato that due to neglect has become a little madcap. Well, a daikon is definitely not a contender, more a monk of the oblong vegetable variety, a cloistered parsnip, if you will. Perhaps a parsnip then, no cliche`. As P has rightly pointed out in a previous entry, a parsnip is naught but an albino carrot and I will not have it suffer the reputation incited by fiction of novel and screen genres, where those who are a little short on pigment are the seething pimples of blunt and foul evil. So the parsnip is not savage, just misunderstood. "They are mushrooms, love," I am interrupted. Yes, I smile sweetly to indicate my gratitude and comprehension of well intended but redundant information. It says mushrooms on the bag. I am still required to to peer into the bag to identify the type of fungus. Ah, the androgynous button mushroom. Bland in texture, colour, shape and taste, though pop them in a hot pan with some butter and a good dash of nutmeg and they gain a lovely distinction. They are also fabulous in beef stroganoff - 'Oh those Russians'. Ah, the parsnip - of course! Purple war paint around its gills and a stark tuft of foliage, stiffened no doubt by the vegetable blood of countless vegetable sacrifices offered in appeasement of the vegetable gods. All in vain, for it shall be plucked from the earth, washed, trimmed and transported, paraded and sold, cooked and et! And if not, then woe betide the savage turnip that crosses that noble grape.
"That comes to $175.00, thank you. And which account is that on?"
There is a guesthouse called the Noble Grape and I have often wondered at the title, pictured a grape resplendent in battle dress, slaying grape enemies and bestowing grace when its conscience demanded so. As I stand here, in the echo and re-echo of beep beep scanners, and the orders of military matriarchs organising their familial rabble, "You fetch a box, you pack out, you pack in, out the way, stand aside, no, the heavier stuff goes first, shit! I forgot the cheese, you get a block o'cheddar..." I begin to question the possibility of a savage potato. Can a potato truly be savage, perhaps if you consider an older one that has been kept in the dark (literal dark, as in not keeping the identity of its real parents from it, or the state of its credit card debt) so that it has become a little green, soft and possesses several unseeing eyes. No, this strikes me more as a once reliable potato that due to neglect has become a little madcap. Well, a daikon is definitely not a contender, more a monk of the oblong vegetable variety, a cloistered parsnip, if you will. Perhaps a parsnip then, no cliche`. As P has rightly pointed out in a previous entry, a parsnip is naught but an albino carrot and I will not have it suffer the reputation incited by fiction of novel and screen genres, where those who are a little short on pigment are the seething pimples of blunt and foul evil. So the parsnip is not savage, just misunderstood. "They are mushrooms, love," I am interrupted. Yes, I smile sweetly to indicate my gratitude and comprehension of well intended but redundant information. It says mushrooms on the bag. I am still required to to peer into the bag to identify the type of fungus. Ah, the androgynous button mushroom. Bland in texture, colour, shape and taste, though pop them in a hot pan with some butter and a good dash of nutmeg and they gain a lovely distinction. They are also fabulous in beef stroganoff - 'Oh those Russians'. Ah, the parsnip - of course! Purple war paint around its gills and a stark tuft of foliage, stiffened no doubt by the vegetable blood of countless vegetable sacrifices offered in appeasement of the vegetable gods. All in vain, for it shall be plucked from the earth, washed, trimmed and transported, paraded and sold, cooked and et! And if not, then woe betide the savage turnip that crosses that noble grape.
"That comes to $175.00, thank you. And which account is that on?"
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A letter to my love
first my I say congratulations on landing the role of the new Superman for the new movie next year and also the main role of Theseus in the upcoming film Immortals. I'm sure you must be very excited.
I'm just writing this letter to let you know that although you have been dubbed 'The Unluckiest Man in Hollywood' this will soon cease to be. Your career is taking off and I think your love life will be as well. You see Henry, it is my humble yet educated opinion that we should be married. I have a number of reasons why we would be perfect together and I have it all planned out so you don't need to worry about anything.
The first reason being that I am completely in love with you. Quite simple really. I think you are a very talented actor, you seem very nice in interviews, I think your drop dead gorgeous and you look very good in a suit. I wouldn't say I'm incredible to look at but I'm a bit of alright, I'm interesting and educated and a very genuine person so I think you can definitely grow to love me. I've also been a fan for a while so I'm not just jumping on the fame band wagon. I loved you before you were super famous, please keep that in mind.
So here's how it's going to go down. We will meet when I go to England next year and you will be so enamoured, even in the short time that I'm there, that you will follow me back to Western Australia. I will take you on a tour of the lovely South West and you will love all my family and friends. I think then you might fly me back to London so I could be your date to a premiere of something. Then maybe to Paris for the proposal? No too cliché. The cliffs of Dover should do. We would be married in Australia of course (just a simple ceremony) and then move to London. I presume that's where you live I haven't actually checked that. I could teach maybe in a remedial school or even at Eton. So you would have your work and I would have mine and we would have plenty of time in the school holidays to hang out and do whatever it is married people do.
Henry I know we could love each other I really do think we'd be great. I promise I'm a fun person and I'm from Australia so that's got to be worth something right?
Please get back to me soon
P
Monday, February 14, 2011
A new friend
OK so I just went to the toilet and as I was sitting there I noticed a tiny skink on the floor. He was probably smaller than my pinky finger and absolutely adorable. He had big eyes and big sticky feet. I was thinking he could be my new friend. Everytime I went to the toilet he'd be sitting there somewhere and I could have pretend conversations with him. I could even give him a name. Maybe Fred, Fred is quite cute for a skink and seemed to suit him but I thought it a little boring. I could come up with something later. I bet he would even eat bugs which is great because I'm not keen on spiders so I need a replacement predator to eliminate the bugs if I manage to eradicate all the spiders. My little new friend would become a real character in my life. And then as he crawled under the door I realised that he will most likely be eaten by the cat tomorrow and I'll never see him again.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Dear ...,
Dear Friends,
Our sincere apologies for the blog silence that has pervaded over the Christmas season. I have read some of our latest blogs and I have noticed that many have been motivated by unquiet feeling, be it anger, despair, umbridge, indignance ect. Thus it was decided to wait for some inspiration from more serene ponds, I did not anticipate, however, that these ponds are frozen solid during Christmas. Closed for the summer. Guarded by snipers. Surrounded by a ring of poison tipped barb wire, land mines, a moat of nuclear waste, the living room of Bret Michaels. Only accessible through a soul sucking black hole. In North Korea. Does this mean I am old and jaded, a better looking Scrooge aiming my stake 'o holly at the 'eart of every fool wiv merry Christmas on 'is lips. Has the childhood brilliance that shone at Christmas vanished? Bugger - tangent, what I am trying to say is that what follows here will celebrate love, the little feathers that tickle my fancy.
Dear Sensible and Charming Cafe's,
I would like to raise my cup of tea to you in a toast that commends your selection of lovely cookies, lovely in size, lovely in taste and lovely in price. I am tired of the over-sized, androgynous, mass produced and exorbitant discs with receding chocolate fringes, carefully displayed in glass specimen jars and standing as a monument of a consumer society which is willing to sell out on the joys of small delights. (I have done it again, soz, - happy blog, happy blog, happy blog...). I love it when I am given the option to choose a ginger nut or a macadamia short bread or a chocolate chip or a Bavarian sugar cookie or that dark horse, the ANZAC (it's even healthy because they have oats in them) or a passion fruit delight that really does satisfy and is enough for three polite mouthfulls. I have even found some establishments that sell them three for a dollar and a half, brilliant! One for me, one for my friend, another for later - handy should it become necessary for me to bribe a small child. So, I would like to thank you special Cafe with your sensible cookie diameter and sensational cookie taste, you have made little moments of my life splendid and you make me happy.
S.
Dear anyone involved with casting for films,
Could I please recommend to you the legs of Rupert Penry Jones. They are long and lean and masculine and look strapping in a pair of britches. They are perfectly suited to roles that require period costuming, especially if boots are involved. If a lot of running is required mister R. Penry Jones is certainly your man, whether he is chasing a fast horse that has run away with the woman he loves, or is being chased by a corrupt official of the law, angry because his girlfriend has become distracted by what would be Ruppie's character's elegant movement, he is up to the task. Plus he can act. Plus you have a definite audience, me and all of my friends (well, all those of the female persuasion). Plus you don't even need to audition for the role of the female character because I will do it for free. Plus he has nice legs, two of them.
Can I thank you in advance for your careful consideration,
S.
Dear Mr. Matthew (V.) Goode,
A little while ago P, C, and our most frequent and welcome house guest, J, were watching a little quality television. It was "Celebrity Sexiest..." something a'rather (referring to some body part) on channel 'E'. You were not listed in their count down - idiots! However, you were given the chance to speak for an extended period of time about Johnathan Rhys Meyers bottom, and eventhough this topic is tasteless you spoke with such awesome eloquence that the general effect on the room was swoon. Now that I have begun this letter, I feel rather at a loss for words, because what I have to say is rather short. We love you. Just three words but spoken in truth. I would like to emphasise that this is not a sordid love elicited by your physique alone, we are none such base creatures. It is obvious that you are intelligent, witty, charming and kind hearted. You were wonderful in My Family and Other Animals and that episode of Miss Marple - see, we appreciate your acting ability as well. We would, however, like to suggest that you stick to roles that demand an English accent, brown to black hair worn in a slightly tussled fashion, with stylish, almost old world, dress sense. Not that you are not able to act well as an American or as a blond but these roles simply do not exhibit your finer points, your sleek muscular shoulders, your fine eyes and your sweet smile. Oh, and they are demeaning to your acting prowess as well. See this is true love, because no obsessed, silly girl, too immature to recognise for your talent would have the courage to show you where you can improve. I think that this is a sound basis for a relationship. The residents of this home humbly offer ourselves as friend and confidantes and perhaps something more (we would be willing to consider living as part of a harem). Just leave a comment at the bottom of the post to organise a meeting when you are next in this part of the world.
With boundless ardour,
S.
Dear Ms. Dawn French,
I have just finished reading your memoir and would like to dedicate this blog to you. I have thoroughly enjoyed the humour, I appreciate the stretch in my vocabulary and I admire the sensitivity with which you relate personal experiences. Most of all, I would like to thank you for the format of your book as every thought born in the last in the week has been addressed and mentally posted.
Thank you awfully,
S. (Just a pseudonym, don't worry)
Our sincere apologies for the blog silence that has pervaded over the Christmas season. I have read some of our latest blogs and I have noticed that many have been motivated by unquiet feeling, be it anger, despair, umbridge, indignance ect. Thus it was decided to wait for some inspiration from more serene ponds, I did not anticipate, however, that these ponds are frozen solid during Christmas. Closed for the summer. Guarded by snipers. Surrounded by a ring of poison tipped barb wire, land mines, a moat of nuclear waste, the living room of Bret Michaels. Only accessible through a soul sucking black hole. In North Korea. Does this mean I am old and jaded, a better looking Scrooge aiming my stake 'o holly at the 'eart of every fool wiv merry Christmas on 'is lips. Has the childhood brilliance that shone at Christmas vanished? Bugger - tangent, what I am trying to say is that what follows here will celebrate love, the little feathers that tickle my fancy.
Dear Sensible and Charming Cafe's,
I would like to raise my cup of tea to you in a toast that commends your selection of lovely cookies, lovely in size, lovely in taste and lovely in price. I am tired of the over-sized, androgynous, mass produced and exorbitant discs with receding chocolate fringes, carefully displayed in glass specimen jars and standing as a monument of a consumer society which is willing to sell out on the joys of small delights. (I have done it again, soz, - happy blog, happy blog, happy blog...). I love it when I am given the option to choose a ginger nut or a macadamia short bread or a chocolate chip or a Bavarian sugar cookie or that dark horse, the ANZAC (it's even healthy because they have oats in them) or a passion fruit delight that really does satisfy and is enough for three polite mouthfulls. I have even found some establishments that sell them three for a dollar and a half, brilliant! One for me, one for my friend, another for later - handy should it become necessary for me to bribe a small child. So, I would like to thank you special Cafe with your sensible cookie diameter and sensational cookie taste, you have made little moments of my life splendid and you make me happy.
S.
Dear anyone involved with casting for films,
Could I please recommend to you the legs of Rupert Penry Jones. They are long and lean and masculine and look strapping in a pair of britches. They are perfectly suited to roles that require period costuming, especially if boots are involved. If a lot of running is required mister R. Penry Jones is certainly your man, whether he is chasing a fast horse that has run away with the woman he loves, or is being chased by a corrupt official of the law, angry because his girlfriend has become distracted by what would be Ruppie's character's elegant movement, he is up to the task. Plus he can act. Plus you have a definite audience, me and all of my friends (well, all those of the female persuasion). Plus you don't even need to audition for the role of the female character because I will do it for free. Plus he has nice legs, two of them.
Can I thank you in advance for your careful consideration,
S.
Dear Mr. Matthew (V.) Goode,
A little while ago P, C, and our most frequent and welcome house guest, J, were watching a little quality television. It was "Celebrity Sexiest..." something a'rather (referring to some body part) on channel 'E'. You were not listed in their count down - idiots! However, you were given the chance to speak for an extended period of time about Johnathan Rhys Meyers bottom, and eventhough this topic is tasteless you spoke with such awesome eloquence that the general effect on the room was swoon. Now that I have begun this letter, I feel rather at a loss for words, because what I have to say is rather short. We love you. Just three words but spoken in truth. I would like to emphasise that this is not a sordid love elicited by your physique alone, we are none such base creatures. It is obvious that you are intelligent, witty, charming and kind hearted. You were wonderful in My Family and Other Animals and that episode of Miss Marple - see, we appreciate your acting ability as well. We would, however, like to suggest that you stick to roles that demand an English accent, brown to black hair worn in a slightly tussled fashion, with stylish, almost old world, dress sense. Not that you are not able to act well as an American or as a blond but these roles simply do not exhibit your finer points, your sleek muscular shoulders, your fine eyes and your sweet smile. Oh, and they are demeaning to your acting prowess as well. See this is true love, because no obsessed, silly girl, too immature to recognise for your talent would have the courage to show you where you can improve. I think that this is a sound basis for a relationship. The residents of this home humbly offer ourselves as friend and confidantes and perhaps something more (we would be willing to consider living as part of a harem). Just leave a comment at the bottom of the post to organise a meeting when you are next in this part of the world.
With boundless ardour,
S.
Dear Ms. Dawn French,
I have just finished reading your memoir and would like to dedicate this blog to you. I have thoroughly enjoyed the humour, I appreciate the stretch in my vocabulary and I admire the sensitivity with which you relate personal experiences. Most of all, I would like to thank you for the format of your book as every thought born in the last in the week has been addressed and mentally posted.
Thank you awfully,
S. (Just a pseudonym, don't worry)
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