I once wrote a blog article asking which superpower people would have if they could choose one, like say psychic powers or flying or running really fast or shooting lasers or invisibility or something.
However I've thought of a new superpower I'd really want. I'd like to have the power to win at those grab a toy with a clamp game machines.
You know the ones. They are filled with fluffy toys, and you put money in the slot and have a turn. You either use a joystick or buttons to control a claw or clamp, and you get one chance to point it a certain way, then it will go and dive and reach out. If you have aimed well and the toys are positioned nicely it may pick up a toy for you and then drop it in a chute. If you haven't then you don't win anything.
Of course those games are nigh imposible usually because the toys are in a mess, the claw is inaccurate and you only get one chance to dive. And the claw is often really wide so even if it does pick something up it is liable to drop it before it reaches the chute.
Most likely it will dive and all it will do is toss around a few fluffy toys.
I think it's very frustrating. I tried a couple of those toy machines out. No deal! I still would have liked that devil Hello Kitty. Just for the heck of it, why not?
If I had a magic power, the claw would pick up a toy every single time it dived. Maybe it would pick up two. And it would drop them in the chute. I would have the largest collection of soft toys ever that way.
It is not entirely selfish. I would have an overflow so I would donate some to little kiddies in hospital. Maybe. When I have got bored with lining them all up in rows and photoing them and picking out my top 100 out of all the green teddies or whatever.
I spend nights thinking about that claw and wondering what I did wrong, why I missed, why the toy slipped. Someday the nightmare has to stop, and if I had the superpower maybe I could live a normal life. Someday.
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
Aaaargh! My Driving Instructor Cursed Me!
It sounds lame, but I haven't been blogging recently because I've been cursed.
I have been so ill recently I haven't been able to look at the computer without feeling a bit nauseous and feeling like I want to puke on the keyboard; not a healthy way to feel when I want to compose a blog article. On top of that I haven't been really in the mindframe to write a coherent few sentences.
It all started when I went for a driving lesson. As usual I was driving pretty badly, but that's the usual for me and I deal with it. My usual habit of not being able to brake or accelerate smoothly.
My instructor got frustrated with me and told me I'd feel sick because of it. "You'll feel it HERE," he said and touched the right side of his neck.
"What a wuss," I thought. I'd driven like this and much worse many other times, and never had such problems before. I'd always felt fine.
The day after the lesson I started to feel a bit groggy. "Must be Fridayitis," I thought, making up a convenient ailment. I felt like flopping down on the keyboard at work and was glad that the boss gave me an early mark at 4pm.
I was feeling all tight on the ... yes ... right side of the neck, so I fortunately got a lovely neck massage from Mr Coffee (many thanks!) which seemed to ease some tightness. However I still felt groggy - and I developed a headache on the right side of my head.
Saturday - head still throbbing. Tried to sleep all day. And it didn't get better by Sunday.
By the time the next week rolled around, things weren't getting better. In fact in the next week I developed MORE ailments, not fewer, including a worsening migraine on the right side, tightening muscles, tummy aches and a fever. Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't think. My body ended up with cramps and pains.
I took a whole week off work.
I've never had an illness quite like that before so I dub it "The Curse of the Driving Instructor" and hope there is no reason to have to go through it again.
Certainly not if I get my license!
I have been so ill recently I haven't been able to look at the computer without feeling a bit nauseous and feeling like I want to puke on the keyboard; not a healthy way to feel when I want to compose a blog article. On top of that I haven't been really in the mindframe to write a coherent few sentences.
It all started when I went for a driving lesson. As usual I was driving pretty badly, but that's the usual for me and I deal with it. My usual habit of not being able to brake or accelerate smoothly.
My instructor got frustrated with me and told me I'd feel sick because of it. "You'll feel it HERE," he said and touched the right side of his neck.
"What a wuss," I thought. I'd driven like this and much worse many other times, and never had such problems before. I'd always felt fine.
The day after the lesson I started to feel a bit groggy. "Must be Fridayitis," I thought, making up a convenient ailment. I felt like flopping down on the keyboard at work and was glad that the boss gave me an early mark at 4pm.
I was feeling all tight on the ... yes ... right side of the neck, so I fortunately got a lovely neck massage from Mr Coffee (many thanks!) which seemed to ease some tightness. However I still felt groggy - and I developed a headache on the right side of my head.
Saturday - head still throbbing. Tried to sleep all day. And it didn't get better by Sunday.
By the time the next week rolled around, things weren't getting better. In fact in the next week I developed MORE ailments, not fewer, including a worsening migraine on the right side, tightening muscles, tummy aches and a fever. Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't think. My body ended up with cramps and pains.
I took a whole week off work.
I've never had an illness quite like that before so I dub it "The Curse of the Driving Instructor" and hope there is no reason to have to go through it again.
Certainly not if I get my license!
Sunday, 11 May 2008
I'm a Mug!
Over dinner, my mother pronounced her preference for fine bone china over other kinds of china. She wants to replace a mug she broke at work with one made of this elegant china.
"Why's it called bone china?" asked my brother.
"'Cause it's got bones in it," I explained. None of my family believed me at first, but it's true. I read up on it a bit more closely to ffind out how it's made. Bone china is a large percentage animal bone ash, as I reported back to my Dad.
"But why not HUMAN BONE ASH?" I mused.
"Good idea!" enthused father, who has taken to the idea of being cremated. "I'm a mug in life, why not make me a mug in death!"
I now present to you my services - or my FAMILY DINNER SERVICES.
Don't put granny in an urn - Make Granny into an urn!
Preserve the whole family in a classy dinnerware service. The Family Dinner Service, where you can choose the dinner service piece you'd like to be that represents YOUR personality! Would you like to be a fancy jug, an elegant platter, a smooth plate?
Be part of the family dinner ritual for decades after your death!
Or perhaps you'd like to be a little jam pot - not just be preserved but HOLD PRESERVES!
It's all up to you, at CREMATIONS and CERAMICS - We CARE for your WARE!
"Why's it called bone china?" asked my brother.
"'Cause it's got bones in it," I explained. None of my family believed me at first, but it's true. I read up on it a bit more closely to ffind out how it's made. Bone china is a large percentage animal bone ash, as I reported back to my Dad.
"But why not HUMAN BONE ASH?" I mused.
"Good idea!" enthused father, who has taken to the idea of being cremated. "I'm a mug in life, why not make me a mug in death!"
I now present to you my services - or my FAMILY DINNER SERVICES.
Don't put granny in an urn - Make Granny into an urn!
Preserve the whole family in a classy dinnerware service. The Family Dinner Service, where you can choose the dinner service piece you'd like to be that represents YOUR personality! Would you like to be a fancy jug, an elegant platter, a smooth plate?
Be part of the family dinner ritual for decades after your death!
Or perhaps you'd like to be a little jam pot - not just be preserved but HOLD PRESERVES!
It's all up to you, at CREMATIONS and CERAMICS - We CARE for your WARE!
Review: Moliere
I think I've written some mean reviews lately. Not that those in question didn't deserve it, like Hating Alison Ashley, yegads, but I've shown a bit of dissatisfaction with what I've been watching.
Well, last Friday, I saw Moliere. Heartily recommend, especially if you're looking for a good cackle!
It's not a movie I would have picked to see, but now I've seen it I'm glad I did. I won tickets - so a freebie always makes you feel extra good in the theatre. The movie's a French one. It's about this Moliere fellow, a comic actor who's part of a bankrupt troupe of actors. He then ends up trying to earn his keep by hiring himself out to a Mr Jourdain under the pretense of being a religious young man and a tutor, for the man's daughter.
Mrs Jourdain catches on pretty quickly, but Mr Jourdain's in the dark. If you happen to appreciate a Ricky Gervais kind of comedy, with a cringeworthy David-Brent-from-The-Office character, then Mr Jourdain is your man. The film makes some obvious points about people asking for advice or criticism - but not taking it unless it's exactly what they wanted to hear - and has some excellent oppportunities for Moliere to showcase his comic acting abilities.
Watch out especially for the "dewdrop and horse" scene and the "Fair Marquise letter" scene. The "singing lesson scene" is definitely worth a mention too. You'll know which they are when you see them!
Well, last Friday, I saw Moliere. Heartily recommend, especially if you're looking for a good cackle!
It's not a movie I would have picked to see, but now I've seen it I'm glad I did. I won tickets - so a freebie always makes you feel extra good in the theatre. The movie's a French one. It's about this Moliere fellow, a comic actor who's part of a bankrupt troupe of actors. He then ends up trying to earn his keep by hiring himself out to a Mr Jourdain under the pretense of being a religious young man and a tutor, for the man's daughter.
Mrs Jourdain catches on pretty quickly, but Mr Jourdain's in the dark. If you happen to appreciate a Ricky Gervais kind of comedy, with a cringeworthy David-Brent-from-The-Office character, then Mr Jourdain is your man. The film makes some obvious points about people asking for advice or criticism - but not taking it unless it's exactly what they wanted to hear - and has some excellent oppportunities for Moliere to showcase his comic acting abilities.
Watch out especially for the "dewdrop and horse" scene and the "Fair Marquise letter" scene. The "singing lesson scene" is definitely worth a mention too. You'll know which they are when you see them!
Mums worth $124,000
A calculation based on all the different job titles Mum takes on figured that if Mum were paid in cold hard cash she'd earn $124,000 a year.
Typical duties included:
housekeeper, daycare centre teacher, van driver, psychologist and chief executive officer
and the fact she works more than 40 hours a week.
I actually find this amusing because I asked someone what CEO means and it means you get to make all the executive decisions.
In fact I do that all the time, anyone can make them if they choose, just wish I could get paid in cold hard cash what duties I perform.
I am
CEO - I make decisions on everything for myself and often for other people too.
Legal secretary/paralegal (OK I'm getting paid for this)
Typist (what the heck am I doing now?)
Housekeeper (my bedroom is quite spick and span thank you. Lots better than some housewives I know)
Computer technologist
Courier
Psychologist
Mediator
Events Organiser
Boardgames Player
Orange Juice taster
DVD watcher
Phone answerer
Professional Procastinator and Sleeper
Blogger
to name just a few ... Oh and I do this full time.
Darn, I should be getting paid a fortune. Unfortunately I'm not. It's a disgrace I tell you!
Typical duties included:
housekeeper, daycare centre teacher, van driver, psychologist and chief executive officer
and the fact she works more than 40 hours a week.
I actually find this amusing because I asked someone what CEO means and it means you get to make all the executive decisions.
In fact I do that all the time, anyone can make them if they choose, just wish I could get paid in cold hard cash what duties I perform.
I am
CEO - I make decisions on everything for myself and often for other people too.
Legal secretary/paralegal (OK I'm getting paid for this)
Typist (what the heck am I doing now?)
Housekeeper (my bedroom is quite spick and span thank you. Lots better than some housewives I know)
Computer technologist
Courier
Psychologist
Mediator
Events Organiser
Boardgames Player
Orange Juice taster
DVD watcher
Phone answerer
Professional Procastinator and Sleeper
Blogger
to name just a few ... Oh and I do this full time.
Darn, I should be getting paid a fortune. Unfortunately I'm not. It's a disgrace I tell you!
Sunday, 27 April 2008
Law & Order: DUI
Recently I was sent a little note about a crime-writing competition, and accompanying it, a useful pamphlet with crime-writing tips.
One stuck out to me: Don't take 'crime' too literally; most crime fiction involves murder. Fraud and espionage rarely makes for a good crime novel
Well, there went all my fantastic ideas, just like that, but I just don't see why people are so bloody (excuse the pun) narrow-minded. I can assure you that every crime has its thrills and spills, and if you think you can just get your jollies out of murders, then you're missing out on a whole buffet of potential ecstasy the crime world has to offer you.
Here was a synopsis I had all planned:
Stacey is a beautiful and misunderstood young lady with a traumatic past. We follow her throughout the story as she divulges more and more about her difficult childhood. She has few friends and has isolated many in her life. The suspense is immense, until one day Stacey is at the mall and decides to rebel against the world that has caged her glorious soul by stealing two erasers.
That one was going to be called "Winona Forever".
Then I sketched out:
The detectives are called to the crime scene. The evidence is scanty, but they are making do with the photographs they have. They have no eyewitnesses - at least there are none who'll make a statement - and the man who owns the nearby pub is tightlipped. But Special Agent Shamrock Combes will figure it out in the end - he always does - which bastard really was the owner of the sedan that was driving 10km over the limit past the camera, and possibly under the influence, given the probabilities? If only the camera had taken a slightly better shot ... (but difficulties like this never faze Shamrock)!
One stuck out to me: Don't take 'crime' too literally; most crime fiction involves murder. Fraud and espionage rarely makes for a good crime novel
Well, there went all my fantastic ideas, just like that, but I just don't see why people are so bloody (excuse the pun) narrow-minded. I can assure you that every crime has its thrills and spills, and if you think you can just get your jollies out of murders, then you're missing out on a whole buffet of potential ecstasy the crime world has to offer you.
Here was a synopsis I had all planned:
Stacey is a beautiful and misunderstood young lady with a traumatic past. We follow her throughout the story as she divulges more and more about her difficult childhood. She has few friends and has isolated many in her life. The suspense is immense, until one day Stacey is at the mall and decides to rebel against the world that has caged her glorious soul by stealing two erasers.
That one was going to be called "Winona Forever".
Then I sketched out:
The detectives are called to the crime scene. The evidence is scanty, but they are making do with the photographs they have. They have no eyewitnesses - at least there are none who'll make a statement - and the man who owns the nearby pub is tightlipped. But Special Agent Shamrock Combes will figure it out in the end - he always does - which bastard really was the owner of the sedan that was driving 10km over the limit past the camera, and possibly under the influence, given the probabilities? If only the camera had taken a slightly better shot ... (but difficulties like this never faze Shamrock)!
Friday, 18 April 2008
If we're man's best friend, why do you still call us bitches?
The heading is my answer to the question "What would dogs say if they could talk?", but I'm sure plenty of people out there have their own idea about that.
The question was spun out by HarperCollins, and winning answers won a Selby pack - mine got me a pack, but I really thought it wouldn't, because Selby is a children's series and I thought the bitches bit might exclude me. Seems not.
A Selby pack was a copy of Duncan Ball's Selby Santa, a dog plush toy and a Selby cap. It's childish, but then Selby's a favourite of mine. I got the first Selby book when I was a kid (even then it was a simple read for me) and the series is still going strong. And I must admit that I catch up on Selby's adventures every now and then when I'm in bookstores!
For those who haven't had the joy of Selby in your life, the premise is this:
Selby is a normal dog, who lives with his owners, Dr Trifle, a somewhat eccentric inventor/scientist, and his wife Mrs Trifle, Mayor of Bogusville. Then one day Selby realises he understands human language. He decides to teach himself to speak it. After acquiring language skills, he thinks it'll be a great idea to reveal his secret to his owners as a Christmas present.
He's just about to do it, when he overhears a conversation that makes him realise that if the Trifles (lovely people though they are) knew that he were an intelligent, conversant dog, he'd lose his laidback, leisurely life. He'd be running errands, answering phonecalls, and in general being a slave.
He's best off keeping his secret a secret and using it to his advantage when he can, but keeping his old life where he can laze about the house and be the adored and looked after pet with no responsibilities.
Of course, this isn't easy, because Selby's ability to understand language makes him a sensitive, feeling, understanding, intelligent dog with curiosity, ambition, worries ... and the ability to get himself into a lot of trouble, all the while trying not to give his secret away while trying to use his skills to his advantage when he can.
There must be something like 30 Selby books out there now.
I find Selby fun - maybe also because in the whole thing, he's incautious, and just a bit up-himself! Just as many kids like their books - the adults around him are kind of gormless, even if one's a scientist and one's the Mayor, and Selby the talking dog is far wittier than them - and knows it - and doesn't try to hide it.
In Selby's Secret, Selby kisses himself in the mirror, saying "Oh you perfect pooch! You're my kind of dog."
He's my kind of dog, too!
The question was spun out by HarperCollins, and winning answers won a Selby pack - mine got me a pack, but I really thought it wouldn't, because Selby is a children's series and I thought the bitches bit might exclude me. Seems not.
A Selby pack was a copy of Duncan Ball's Selby Santa, a dog plush toy and a Selby cap. It's childish, but then Selby's a favourite of mine. I got the first Selby book when I was a kid (even then it was a simple read for me) and the series is still going strong. And I must admit that I catch up on Selby's adventures every now and then when I'm in bookstores!
For those who haven't had the joy of Selby in your life, the premise is this:
Selby is a normal dog, who lives with his owners, Dr Trifle, a somewhat eccentric inventor/scientist, and his wife Mrs Trifle, Mayor of Bogusville. Then one day Selby realises he understands human language. He decides to teach himself to speak it. After acquiring language skills, he thinks it'll be a great idea to reveal his secret to his owners as a Christmas present.
He's just about to do it, when he overhears a conversation that makes him realise that if the Trifles (lovely people though they are) knew that he were an intelligent, conversant dog, he'd lose his laidback, leisurely life. He'd be running errands, answering phonecalls, and in general being a slave.
He's best off keeping his secret a secret and using it to his advantage when he can, but keeping his old life where he can laze about the house and be the adored and looked after pet with no responsibilities.
Of course, this isn't easy, because Selby's ability to understand language makes him a sensitive, feeling, understanding, intelligent dog with curiosity, ambition, worries ... and the ability to get himself into a lot of trouble, all the while trying not to give his secret away while trying to use his skills to his advantage when he can.
There must be something like 30 Selby books out there now.
I find Selby fun - maybe also because in the whole thing, he's incautious, and just a bit up-himself! Just as many kids like their books - the adults around him are kind of gormless, even if one's a scientist and one's the Mayor, and Selby the talking dog is far wittier than them - and knows it - and doesn't try to hide it.
In Selby's Secret, Selby kisses himself in the mirror, saying "Oh you perfect pooch! You're my kind of dog."
He's my kind of dog, too!
Two More Lessons, 10 Minutes Better!
Driving Update:
I have now had 2 more driving lessons in the last week, and my driving instructor's comment is that I am still a danger on the road, but I improved in the last 10 minutes of the second lesson.
Hey, some improvement is better than no improvement!
Apparently there is a big difficulty in the fact that I mix up the accelerator and the brake. That is a problem. Also in that I need to look at the floor to figure out the answer to "Is your foot on the brake?"
Also there is a problem in that I am not 100% sure which is my left hand. I have tried to explain that there is so much more to concentrate on than really piddling things like left hand, right hand, I mean, gosh! There's things like traffic and road signs and mirrors and stuff - pick 1 thing for me to concentrate on man!
My driving instructor also repeatedly asks me "Why do you not brake when we get to a T-intersection! I don't understand! We will go over the edge!"
I can't explain it's because I know he has the emergency brake, because he doesn't react nicely to that.
In lesson 1, we drove around, I made lots of mistakes, but I didn't die.
"You know what the problem is? You are too tense! you grip the wheel too hard and you are too worried about everything!" he said.
So in the next lesson, I was determined to not be tense. I relaxed completely. Serene. I settled back.
I refused to worry. Even when the car was speeding down the hill and we almost crashed into the back of the car and my driving instructor asked "Why didn't you brake? I had to brake for you?" I sat, laid back, with a satisfied, serene smile on my face. Nothing would break my mood! Nothing would make me tense today!
We drove in the middle of the road and swrved to the side and almost road up the kerb. But nothing would make me nervous today! Not even rocketeering down a hill or being yelled at for speeding over a speed hump!
Next lesson: 11 days' time
I have now had 2 more driving lessons in the last week, and my driving instructor's comment is that I am still a danger on the road, but I improved in the last 10 minutes of the second lesson.
Hey, some improvement is better than no improvement!
Apparently there is a big difficulty in the fact that I mix up the accelerator and the brake. That is a problem. Also in that I need to look at the floor to figure out the answer to "Is your foot on the brake?"
Also there is a problem in that I am not 100% sure which is my left hand. I have tried to explain that there is so much more to concentrate on than really piddling things like left hand, right hand, I mean, gosh! There's things like traffic and road signs and mirrors and stuff - pick 1 thing for me to concentrate on man!
My driving instructor also repeatedly asks me "Why do you not brake when we get to a T-intersection! I don't understand! We will go over the edge!"
I can't explain it's because I know he has the emergency brake, because he doesn't react nicely to that.
In lesson 1, we drove around, I made lots of mistakes, but I didn't die.
"You know what the problem is? You are too tense! you grip the wheel too hard and you are too worried about everything!" he said.
So in the next lesson, I was determined to not be tense. I relaxed completely. Serene. I settled back.
I refused to worry. Even when the car was speeding down the hill and we almost crashed into the back of the car and my driving instructor asked "Why didn't you brake? I had to brake for you?" I sat, laid back, with a satisfied, serene smile on my face. Nothing would break my mood! Nothing would make me tense today!
We drove in the middle of the road and swrved to the side and almost road up the kerb. But nothing would make me nervous today! Not even rocketeering down a hill or being yelled at for speeding over a speed hump!
Next lesson: 11 days' time
Thursday, 17 April 2008
Crap Service for Crap Signage - at Coles
I have had a hang up about the incorrect use of the words "less" and "fewer" - most people use "less" instead of "fewer" rather than the other way round, which urged me to write this ode to Coles last year.
But the "12 Items or Less Service Lane" actually does grammatically make sense.
It's just that you never seem to get to get to choose.
Even if you take 12 items, you still get crappy service, it's just as crappy, not any better, than when you take 11 or 9 items through. So you aren't really choosing between 12 items, or less service. They should take the freaking sign down.
But the "12 Items or Less Service Lane" actually does grammatically make sense.
It's just that you never seem to get to get to choose.
Even if you take 12 items, you still get crappy service, it's just as crappy, not any better, than when you take 11 or 9 items through. So you aren't really choosing between 12 items, or less service. They should take the freaking sign down.
Has the Pope got this the right way round?
News from The Daily Tele, April 17:
WASHINGTON: Pope Benedict XVI yesterday told how he was "deeply ashamed" of the clergy sexual abuse scandal that stained the US Catholic Church and pledged to work to make sure paedophiles do not become priests.
Well, it's a step in the right direction, sure, but I'd feel it were a better step if the Pope were making sure priests weren't becoming paedophiles ...
WASHINGTON: Pope Benedict XVI yesterday told how he was "deeply ashamed" of the clergy sexual abuse scandal that stained the US Catholic Church and pledged to work to make sure paedophiles do not become priests.
Well, it's a step in the right direction, sure, but I'd feel it were a better step if the Pope were making sure priests weren't becoming paedophiles ...
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
How would we dispose of the Queen?
I've just been reading a book called The Queen and I. I've done everything a bit topsy turvy because late last year I read Queen Camilla by the same author, Sue Townsend, and I've just realised you're supposed to read them in the other order. Still, I understood Queen Camilla at the time. However, I recommend reading them the other way round. And if you're into Royal Irreverence, I recommend them fullstop.
Anyhow, I'm not a monarchist, but the book did make me feel sorry for Queen Elizabeth when she got ousted. The start of the novel is when the Queen gets kicked out of her Queenship and Britain starts as a Republic.
The Royal Family is exiled into a slummy area, and they exist on payouts and stuff. Phillip goes nutters, the Princes talk in street slang, Anne starts flirting with commoners, and Charles gets thrown in gaol for assault. And Princess Di is bugger all use at assisting him from the outside.
You've got to feel sorry for the Queen and all, trying to feed her dog, make a broth, deliver a neighbour's baby and get poor useless Phillip out of bed, while still trying to visit the Queen Mother who is in a time warp. Oh, and trying to cope with the fact that her son's in gaol.
It did make me think a bit about how we keep going on about how we should just get rid of the monarchy, but get rid of them .... HOW? We never really talk about that. WHat should we do, chuck them in the river and drown them?
When we get rid of a politician, we give them a hefty pension, in thanks for services rendered. Lots of politicians take time to get another job after politics. Some don't get one at all.
But what about the Royal Family?
After all, while we may think it's a bt annoying they've been living off us for years, it's probably cruel to throw them into the streets when they've grown up with skills like polo and curtseying, and this isn't entirely their fault. In fact, it's a lot our fault - our fault as a society, not individuals, so it's our duty to set them up so we don't have little Prince Phillip hobos with cardboard signs round their necks saying "donate 5c for a bit of high tea and scones and jams and cream, please"
We could possibly pension The Queen off completely by selling some of those nice jewels in her Crown, and maybe give her a complimentary life membership to a bowls club and let her keep her dogs. A nanny flat out the back of Charlie's place and she'd be all set.
Charles has all his gardening skills at his fingertips; what he doesn't have is the practical skills to make a go of it. Perhaps a gardener's apprenticeship, or a course in setting up his own small business, charged to the state.
We could also think about complimentary surgery for his ears.
Camilla could just do with a new wardrobe, and she and Princess Anne could probably get together and put their love of horses to some profitable use. I think both are past the jockey stage - Camilla especially - but surely grooming, training and breeding aren't out of the question. Or maybe they could just dress up as horses and amuse kids at birthday parties. The possibilities are endless.
And as for the Princes, Prince Harry probably just needs someone to keep him from becoming another Corey Worthington and throwing an Internet drug fuelled party. That would be enough for now.
Anyhow, I'm not a monarchist, but the book did make me feel sorry for Queen Elizabeth when she got ousted. The start of the novel is when the Queen gets kicked out of her Queenship and Britain starts as a Republic.
The Royal Family is exiled into a slummy area, and they exist on payouts and stuff. Phillip goes nutters, the Princes talk in street slang, Anne starts flirting with commoners, and Charles gets thrown in gaol for assault. And Princess Di is bugger all use at assisting him from the outside.
You've got to feel sorry for the Queen and all, trying to feed her dog, make a broth, deliver a neighbour's baby and get poor useless Phillip out of bed, while still trying to visit the Queen Mother who is in a time warp. Oh, and trying to cope with the fact that her son's in gaol.
It did make me think a bit about how we keep going on about how we should just get rid of the monarchy, but get rid of them .... HOW? We never really talk about that. WHat should we do, chuck them in the river and drown them?
When we get rid of a politician, we give them a hefty pension, in thanks for services rendered. Lots of politicians take time to get another job after politics. Some don't get one at all.
But what about the Royal Family?
After all, while we may think it's a bt annoying they've been living off us for years, it's probably cruel to throw them into the streets when they've grown up with skills like polo and curtseying, and this isn't entirely their fault. In fact, it's a lot our fault - our fault as a society, not individuals, so it's our duty to set them up so we don't have little Prince Phillip hobos with cardboard signs round their necks saying "donate 5c for a bit of high tea and scones and jams and cream, please"
We could possibly pension The Queen off completely by selling some of those nice jewels in her Crown, and maybe give her a complimentary life membership to a bowls club and let her keep her dogs. A nanny flat out the back of Charlie's place and she'd be all set.
Charles has all his gardening skills at his fingertips; what he doesn't have is the practical skills to make a go of it. Perhaps a gardener's apprenticeship, or a course in setting up his own small business, charged to the state.
We could also think about complimentary surgery for his ears.
Camilla could just do with a new wardrobe, and she and Princess Anne could probably get together and put their love of horses to some profitable use. I think both are past the jockey stage - Camilla especially - but surely grooming, training and breeding aren't out of the question. Or maybe they could just dress up as horses and amuse kids at birthday parties. The possibilities are endless.
And as for the Princes, Prince Harry probably just needs someone to keep him from becoming another Corey Worthington and throwing an Internet drug fuelled party. That would be enough for now.
0.3% difference of PC
According to Piers Akerman's article, the 0.3% of extra women at the 2020 Rudd summit, or "gabfest" should make each woman their question her own merit as a speaker.
Bernald Salt, a KPMG summiteer, noted that women make up only 50.3% of the population, but the summit had 50.6% female delegates. He ranted then that the summit was preoccupied with political correctness, and that the percentage was carefully engineered.
"If I was a woman at the summit, I would now wonder whether I was selected on merit or whether I was selected on gender."
Now, certainly the figures look very engineered, but come on - out by 0.3%!
Let's look at some other places where people are suppose to represent the public - say Parliament. I think we've overdosed on the testosterone there, and there's a good more than 49.7% reps in Parliament. But do male MPs walk around questioning whether they were voted ini on political correctness or merit. Not bloody likely. In fact, I don't think we've heard a peep about it in the papers, that male MPs should question their validity as Parliamentarians because there are too any males and they were just put in there because of political correctness but someone overdid the numbers.
How about board meetings, with a stronghold of men, or the High Court - still with more males than females?
It says more about the sexism boundaries in this country that Bernald Salt would bring into question a woman's merit merely over the fact there are a few more delegates at a summit than males when we do not question the merit of men (and I wonder if Mr Salt does) when there are more men than women in decision making or representative groups.
Note: I found this interesting piece on KPMG (Bernald Salt's company). The US branch announced the partners it admitted very proudly on its website, and seemed to put an emphasis on how it welcomed women and ethnic minorities:
"The new partners come from diverse cultural and professional backgrounds, with more than one third of the new class comprised of women and ethnic minorities."
Gee, 1/3 which are from women and ethnic minorities. Which means, I assume, 2/3 are male and in the ethnic majority. But should we question the merit of that 2/3 ... after all ...
Bernald Salt, a KPMG summiteer, noted that women make up only 50.3% of the population, but the summit had 50.6% female delegates. He ranted then that the summit was preoccupied with political correctness, and that the percentage was carefully engineered.
"If I was a woman at the summit, I would now wonder whether I was selected on merit or whether I was selected on gender."
Now, certainly the figures look very engineered, but come on - out by 0.3%!
Let's look at some other places where people are suppose to represent the public - say Parliament. I think we've overdosed on the testosterone there, and there's a good more than 49.7% reps in Parliament. But do male MPs walk around questioning whether they were voted ini on political correctness or merit. Not bloody likely. In fact, I don't think we've heard a peep about it in the papers, that male MPs should question their validity as Parliamentarians because there are too any males and they were just put in there because of political correctness but someone overdid the numbers.
How about board meetings, with a stronghold of men, or the High Court - still with more males than females?
It says more about the sexism boundaries in this country that Bernald Salt would bring into question a woman's merit merely over the fact there are a few more delegates at a summit than males when we do not question the merit of men (and I wonder if Mr Salt does) when there are more men than women in decision making or representative groups.
Note: I found this interesting piece on KPMG (Bernald Salt's company). The US branch announced the partners it admitted very proudly on its website, and seemed to put an emphasis on how it welcomed women and ethnic minorities:
"The new partners come from diverse cultural and professional backgrounds, with more than one third of the new class comprised of women and ethnic minorities."
Gee, 1/3 which are from women and ethnic minorities. Which means, I assume, 2/3 are male and in the ethnic majority. But should we question the merit of that 2/3 ... after all ...
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
How to sell yourself, when there's nothing much to sell
I've been idling away at job applications recently. I really don't know what to write, so many attempts go something like this:
Dear Employer-Hopefully-To-Be,
I am writing to apply for the position of Personal Injury Lawyer. My interests are in paper craft and my responsibilities at the moment include making coffee. Consequently I can relate to paper cuts and burns.
Yours,
Maria
This attempt sounded really lame, so I decided to try to big myself up a little for the big law firms. Unfortunately they all seem to want copies of academic transcripts, something I hate being scrutinised. Who needs to know how I did in that elective, or that I took Post-Communist Law for an elective, or that I tried Time-Travel as an Arts subject?
Dear Very Big Impressive Law Firm,
I feel that I am most suited to your firm as my favourite colour is blue and your logo is also in blue. This could not be just a coincidence.
You have requested my academic transcript. Unfortunately a small terrier of my next door neighbour gobbled it up recently. I am sending a photograph of the terrier in lieu of the transcript.
Yours Sincerely,
Maria
I have tried to vary this a bit by changing the breed of dog, and sometimes going for a wallaby or hamster instead.
I got bored recently and threw off this attempt, but haven't sent it yet:
Dear Big Bone-crushing Law Firm,
I feel I would fit into your corporate culture as I am also an over confident paper-pusher and pathological liar.
Here is a copy of my academic transcript, doctored especially to impress you.
Yours Sincerely,
Maria
Dear Employer-Hopefully-To-Be,
I am writing to apply for the position of Personal Injury Lawyer. My interests are in paper craft and my responsibilities at the moment include making coffee. Consequently I can relate to paper cuts and burns.
Yours,
Maria
This attempt sounded really lame, so I decided to try to big myself up a little for the big law firms. Unfortunately they all seem to want copies of academic transcripts, something I hate being scrutinised. Who needs to know how I did in that elective, or that I took Post-Communist Law for an elective, or that I tried Time-Travel as an Arts subject?
Dear Very Big Impressive Law Firm,
I feel that I am most suited to your firm as my favourite colour is blue and your logo is also in blue. This could not be just a coincidence.
You have requested my academic transcript. Unfortunately a small terrier of my next door neighbour gobbled it up recently. I am sending a photograph of the terrier in lieu of the transcript.
Yours Sincerely,
Maria
I have tried to vary this a bit by changing the breed of dog, and sometimes going for a wallaby or hamster instead.
I got bored recently and threw off this attempt, but haven't sent it yet:
Dear Big Bone-crushing Law Firm,
I feel I would fit into your corporate culture as I am also an over confident paper-pusher and pathological liar.
Here is a copy of my academic transcript, doctored especially to impress you.
Yours Sincerely,
Maria
Review: The Birds
OK, here's anothertime where I swoop in for a peck at a disappointing book-to-film.
I had read Daphne Du Maurier's short story The Birds, but it wasn't devotion to that which mde this film so disappointing. I wasn't exactly expecting it to be the same, as the short story - chilling as it was - wasn't what I thought could be made into a feature length film. However, I did expect better from Hitchcock the LEGEND.
I wasn't so disappointed in the not so fab effects, of course it's an older film (1963) and the fact that it's oh so obvious that the heroine is driving a stationary car against an indoor scenery when it's meant to be a fine sunny day outside, and the blood and wounds are fake as (the birds peck faces, they scream, drop almost dead there's fake blood, but the blood is washed off and there's not so much the sight of a gash) was to be expected. Nor that the accents were unbearably plummy. Or that the little girl was an unbearably tryhard child actress, labouring every line.
Trouble is, the film just isn't suspenseful enough. That's really it. There's some scenes with hope - for instance, the birds in the attic, or gathering on the play equipment, but there's too much levity in between, you just don't realistically feel that the birds have got into everyone's heads. I wanted them freaked out more.
I would have liked Hitchy to have built up more on the idea of the birds getting to people so much, they witchhunted his girlfriend and they went mad, and that they drove his mother REALLY loopy. That kind of psychological terror could really have been explored further, with the birds just wearing people down more and more.
It would have been different from Daphne's idea, but I think, would've worked better than what was presented.
I had read Daphne Du Maurier's short story The Birds, but it wasn't devotion to that which mde this film so disappointing. I wasn't exactly expecting it to be the same, as the short story - chilling as it was - wasn't what I thought could be made into a feature length film. However, I did expect better from Hitchcock the LEGEND.
I wasn't so disappointed in the not so fab effects, of course it's an older film (1963) and the fact that it's oh so obvious that the heroine is driving a stationary car against an indoor scenery when it's meant to be a fine sunny day outside, and the blood and wounds are fake as (the birds peck faces, they scream, drop almost dead there's fake blood, but the blood is washed off and there's not so much the sight of a gash) was to be expected. Nor that the accents were unbearably plummy. Or that the little girl was an unbearably tryhard child actress, labouring every line.
Trouble is, the film just isn't suspenseful enough. That's really it. There's some scenes with hope - for instance, the birds in the attic, or gathering on the play equipment, but there's too much levity in between, you just don't realistically feel that the birds have got into everyone's heads. I wanted them freaked out more.
I would have liked Hitchy to have built up more on the idea of the birds getting to people so much, they witchhunted his girlfriend and they went mad, and that they drove his mother REALLY loopy. That kind of psychological terror could really have been explored further, with the birds just wearing people down more and more.
It would have been different from Daphne's idea, but I think, would've worked better than what was presented.
Thursday, 10 April 2008
I'm a bus!
This is a true story:
Recently, someone, a close relative, called M, was caught by the police and fined.
"It's not quite right," said M. "I'm a good driver, people like me shouldn't get fined! (or lose points!)"
It's a sad tale, M was on the road and a naughty person in front of her was pretending to be broken down, or so it seemed, and pretending to be one of those horrid annoying people who acts broken down to hold up traffic. M was sick of being stuck behind the poser.
And you know what you do when you see one of those people - you OVERTAKE them!
At all costs - it's the rule!
So M ducked into the nearby bus lane, fully intending only to be there for a couple of seconds, just enough to get around the posing pretend-to-be-a-broken-downer.
Shock horror!
Suddenly M found she was in a bus lane - and the poser was not a poser, but just someone stuck in a traffic jam, and there wasn't anyway M could get back into the normal lane. She was stuck in the bus lane!
It was all the POSER'S fault!
Unfortunately a police officer came by then and said "M, you're in a bus lane - TICKET!"
and M spluttered "If it weren't for the poser, this wouldn't have happened, it's her, not me!"
Too bad.
Later on, M went home with her fine, and consulted me on several possible ways to clear her otherwise perfect driving record.
The only excuse I could think of was:
"Officer, I have chronic multiple personality personality disorder, at the time I thought I was a bus"
Any other offers?
Recently, someone, a close relative, called M, was caught by the police and fined.
"It's not quite right," said M. "I'm a good driver, people like me shouldn't get fined! (or lose points!)"
It's a sad tale, M was on the road and a naughty person in front of her was pretending to be broken down, or so it seemed, and pretending to be one of those horrid annoying people who acts broken down to hold up traffic. M was sick of being stuck behind the poser.
And you know what you do when you see one of those people - you OVERTAKE them!
At all costs - it's the rule!
So M ducked into the nearby bus lane, fully intending only to be there for a couple of seconds, just enough to get around the posing pretend-to-be-a-broken-downer.
Shock horror!
Suddenly M found she was in a bus lane - and the poser was not a poser, but just someone stuck in a traffic jam, and there wasn't anyway M could get back into the normal lane. She was stuck in the bus lane!
It was all the POSER'S fault!
Unfortunately a police officer came by then and said "M, you're in a bus lane - TICKET!"
and M spluttered "If it weren't for the poser, this wouldn't have happened, it's her, not me!"
Too bad.
Later on, M went home with her fine, and consulted me on several possible ways to clear her otherwise perfect driving record.
The only excuse I could think of was:
"Officer, I have chronic multiple personality personality disorder, at the time I thought I was a bus"
Any other offers?
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