Recently - like over a month ago - I purchased the SC-PM54 Panasonic HiFi system. It's a black shiny thing and it was advertised as being able to play WMA files and MP3's.
Whoopee!
So I burned a disk of WMAs and MP3s, mostly WMAs.
And guess what - the WMAs wouldn't play. There was a little message flashing up "ERROR" each time I tried.
I checked the Panasonic webpage. Lo and behold, the reference to WMAs had vanished. But there was a cached site from just after I had purchased the stereo confirming what I had seen - that the advertisements HAD been advertising the capacity of the stereo to play WMAs.
So I contacted Panasonic and explained that I'd been ripped off. And what's more, they'd tried to cover it off, not by apologising on their website or to previous purchasers, but mysteriously deleting their reference to it one day.
It took over a month for them to get back to me - and I had to call them and prompt them.
What did they offer me?
"You can take the stereo back to the store and exchange it for instore credit at the price you paid for it, and get something you prefer," said the lady. "That's all we can offer."
She tried to sound really generous.
Hang on - what does this mean?
I lose the time I spent burning WMAs and the disk I burnt.
My mother lugged a huge stereo down the street, and now we are expected to bundle it up again and lug it back.
And then to get instore credit - not taking into account whether we actually want to spend more at that store. I mean - they stuffed up, and that's why we spent money at their store. Should Panasonic dictate that we spend money at that store again and restrict our purchases again?
Totally uncool.
I thought so, and asked the lady on the phone for a contact-back number.
To add insult upon insult, I got a call soon after saying "By the way, the return back offer only lasts for 14 days after today ..."
Uh-yeah.
So what does Panasonic get out of this? If I return it, after I've done all the leg-work and am stuck with instore credit instead of the cash I doled out, and have to go hunting for ANOTHER stereo system, Panasonic simply has a stereo system returned to them, which was simply "refunded", and they can flog off to someone else at the same price with no fear of getting into the same pot of boiling water because they've now changed their ad. And since I only bought it recently, and the return offer only lasts for 14 days, they can bet their boots it's in saleable condition.
Oh, too easy.
It's time for these places to pay when they stuff up. May a WMA blow up in their face. Or something.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Friday, 10 August 2007
An Even More Time-Consuming and Mind-Numbing Way To Waste Your Time Than Browsing Blogs
I haven't been writing posts or commenting on blogs much lately or even reading them.
Why not?
I found this competition on the Borders site recently - World's Best Fabricator's - Win A Bookcase
Comp ends 20th August
You actually don't get a bookcase but there are lots of books to win, like 100 of them. Someone is about to win 100 books at a go, but there are 100 books to be won individually - actually a whole lot more practical if you wouldn't have room for 100 books and have read some of those titles already, but wouldn't mind getting a freebie. And six $100 vouchers, and lots of coupons for Borders buyers.
But it's a pretty time-consuming game if you want some of the better prizes like a free book. It can still be a bit time-consuming if you want a better coupon (On my first few go's I got coupons for reduced price manga titles, and I'm not a big manga title buyer, so that wasn't much good to me).
It can also be rather addictive, ieven if you're just like me and waste a lot of time staring at the bookcase and trying to decide what your next purchases would be if only you had a few extra few hundred dollars to blow on fiction, and then realising you were getting sucked into the whole Borders gimmick right along.
Anyhow, good luck everybody!
Why not?
I found this competition on the Borders site recently - World's Best Fabricator's - Win A Bookcase
Comp ends 20th August
You actually don't get a bookcase but there are lots of books to win, like 100 of them. Someone is about to win 100 books at a go, but there are 100 books to be won individually - actually a whole lot more practical if you wouldn't have room for 100 books and have read some of those titles already, but wouldn't mind getting a freebie. And six $100 vouchers, and lots of coupons for Borders buyers.
But it's a pretty time-consuming game if you want some of the better prizes like a free book. It can still be a bit time-consuming if you want a better coupon (On my first few go's I got coupons for reduced price manga titles, and I'm not a big manga title buyer, so that wasn't much good to me).
It can also be rather addictive, ieven if you're just like me and waste a lot of time staring at the bookcase and trying to decide what your next purchases would be if only you had a few extra few hundred dollars to blow on fiction, and then realising you were getting sucked into the whole Borders gimmick right along.
Anyhow, good luck everybody!
Wednesday, 1 August 2007
A Nerd, Nurd, Geek or Dork?
I read this story with Mr Coffee just the other day, about the guy who was called a Nerd online and he drove from Virginia to Texas and almost killed him. The victim lived near Waco, and seemed to attract guys of the Whacko type.
N.E.R.D. - darn those four letter words.
That led to a debate with Mr Coffee and his sister - what was the biggest, most insulting 4 letter word - GEEK, DORK or NERD? The words flew fast around the room and I thought I might just get killed.
Mr C's sister actually thought Nerd sounded not too bad and couldn't see what the whacko from Virginia was on about; Mr Coffee didn't think Geek was quite as insulting as Nerd. But what did they mean?
"Dork means socially clumsy and pretty dumb around people," I pronounced, hoping no one was reading my eyes and thinking about how I was seeing my ninth grade years flash before me - and that awful outfit I wore for three years religiously in Uni ... and my ...
"And geek is kind of like being a specialist in one very narrow area of knowledge, but not having a rounded knowledge," explained Mr Coffee. "That's not too bad. I like that."
"But what does "Nerd" mean?"
"Suspenders," said Mr Coffee.
"And socks with sandals," I added.
So what did the Macquarie Dictionary say?
Dork revealed social clumsiness and ineptness.
But Nerdiness? "Also can be spelt "Nurd". That's strange, I'd never seen that. "Means: an idiot, fool." Nothing about suspender or socks with sandals.
And Geek? Nothing about specialised knowledge there: "An idiot fool, someone who holds themselves up to ridicule and indulges in such activities as biting the heads off chickens," Mr C's sister read out. "You like that?"
Nerd, Nurd, Geek, Dork - what's your favourite 4 letter word?
Mr Coffee is cheating on me!
I am convinced Mr Coffee must be cheating on me.
He has won about the last 4 matches of Uno from me, all by a massive margin, and one by over 500 points!
You only need 500 points to win Uno.
There is something in that.
What shall I do?
I read a book on 100% predictable things men will do when they cheat, and the top two things are they will deny it, and they will express disapproval in cheating.
Mr Coffee has already said he doesn't think it's good to cheat at Uno!
AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
He then denied cheating when confronted.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!
Can I keep the Uno relationship with him if there is no longer trust?
He has won about the last 4 matches of Uno from me, all by a massive margin, and one by over 500 points!
You only need 500 points to win Uno.
There is something in that.
What shall I do?
I read a book on 100% predictable things men will do when they cheat, and the top two things are they will deny it, and they will express disapproval in cheating.
Mr Coffee has already said he doesn't think it's good to cheat at Uno!
AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
He then denied cheating when confronted.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!
Can I keep the Uno relationship with him if there is no longer trust?
You Take The Greatness, I'll Take the Get Out of Gaol Free Card
I read this great letter in The Daily Telegraph today, contributing to that fiery debate where people try to defend either private or public schools, mostly trying to either validate which one they went to in the hope someone will look not snub them at the next social function, or to get the Howard Government to direct funding to their kiddies' school, not realising Howard is saving it up for a big all-expenses-paid-by-the-taxpayer holiday for himself and a fully furnished luxury bunker in the case of nuclear war:
"Unwanted" Underrated
Selective Schools are selective because they can select who they want, but more importantly who they don't want. Not for them the poor and unwashed, nor the behaviourally challenged, although I know that some Catholic schools do try to take all comers.
Those unwanted children are the responsibility of the general public school system. Have any beneficiaries of these special expensive educations achieved worldwide recognition for their contributions to mankind? I know of many strugglers who achieved greatness.
If you are protected from the realities of life how can you appreciate the problems that some people are forced to contend with?
K. Manning
Tamworth
1. Is K here talking about selective or private schools? Last time I looked, selective schools weren't that expensive, it's the private ones that shoot through the roof. Back to school!
2. .... depending on selection process, selective schools do take "poor" people. Selective schools' method is usually based on talent/intellectual capacity/skills/performance etc, not money. Is this the mix up of Private and Public again?
3. It's a great leap to assume that someone who has had a private education has lacked compassion, or doesn't have problems or troubles that they can share with others. This sounds like K here has made an easy separation "There are strugglers - nothing goes right for them - they understand the real world - they go to the general system - then there are the people on easy street - they are rich and everything goes right for them and they are protected and live in an illusory world".
Ever thought that people who may go to a private/selective school may not have things like the extreme lower end of income to deal with in their family, but may:
Struggle with budget anyway because lots of it goes to school fees?
Have split families?
Have image problems?
Struggle with discrimination, social violence, bullying, and crime?
Have academic difficulties, or difficulties keeping up with expectations?
Have health problems?
Suffer from tragedies, pressure and so on?
Have to make difficult decisions, and have both good and bad luck at different stages of their lives?
Get mixed up with drugs, not quite sure about their bodies, about sex, about employment, about what they're going to do with their lives?
and so on?
Plenty of people from everywhere face these things every day - that's real life.
4. You know strugglers who achieved greatness - good for you. I know people from exclusive schools who are compassionate and who have worked for the community selflessly, and some real ratbags from public school who despite their struggles tend to trample on everyone else and have a belief in their right to gain without work. The point being, your school doesn't determine whether you have compassion, and being at a public school won't make you a community achiever, nor will being from the private/selective sector make you a snobbish, aloof bum.
5. Despite the implication of this letter that there is a need for people to mix with the "behaviourally challenged" to achieve social greatness, if you don't want your kids to, all power to you. If behaviourally challenged means bullying, disruptive and violent, I can see good reason to get the heck out of there.
It reminds me of when I was talking to a man who was in custody - for 8 criminal charges in a row. He told me about some of the gaol culture, and said to me, despite the shock and disgust of some of the doings of inmates, "You know, it's [gaol] is a real learning experience!"
"You know, I don't think I'm in a hurry to become an inmate and get that learning experience!" I replied.
There are some experiences in life that being 'protected' from - well, who cares if someone uses it as an insult?
"Unwanted" Underrated
Selective Schools are selective because they can select who they want, but more importantly who they don't want. Not for them the poor and unwashed, nor the behaviourally challenged, although I know that some Catholic schools do try to take all comers.
Those unwanted children are the responsibility of the general public school system. Have any beneficiaries of these special expensive educations achieved worldwide recognition for their contributions to mankind? I know of many strugglers who achieved greatness.
If you are protected from the realities of life how can you appreciate the problems that some people are forced to contend with?
K. Manning
Tamworth
1. Is K here talking about selective or private schools? Last time I looked, selective schools weren't that expensive, it's the private ones that shoot through the roof. Back to school!
2. .... depending on selection process, selective schools do take "poor" people. Selective schools' method is usually based on talent/intellectual capacity/skills/performance etc, not money. Is this the mix up of Private and Public again?
3. It's a great leap to assume that someone who has had a private education has lacked compassion, or doesn't have problems or troubles that they can share with others. This sounds like K here has made an easy separation "There are strugglers - nothing goes right for them - they understand the real world - they go to the general system - then there are the people on easy street - they are rich and everything goes right for them and they are protected and live in an illusory world".
Ever thought that people who may go to a private/selective school may not have things like the extreme lower end of income to deal with in their family, but may:
Struggle with budget anyway because lots of it goes to school fees?
Have split families?
Have image problems?
Struggle with discrimination, social violence, bullying, and crime?
Have academic difficulties, or difficulties keeping up with expectations?
Have health problems?
Suffer from tragedies, pressure and so on?
Have to make difficult decisions, and have both good and bad luck at different stages of their lives?
Get mixed up with drugs, not quite sure about their bodies, about sex, about employment, about what they're going to do with their lives?
and so on?
Plenty of people from everywhere face these things every day - that's real life.
4. You know strugglers who achieved greatness - good for you. I know people from exclusive schools who are compassionate and who have worked for the community selflessly, and some real ratbags from public school who despite their struggles tend to trample on everyone else and have a belief in their right to gain without work. The point being, your school doesn't determine whether you have compassion, and being at a public school won't make you a community achiever, nor will being from the private/selective sector make you a snobbish, aloof bum.
5. Despite the implication of this letter that there is a need for people to mix with the "behaviourally challenged" to achieve social greatness, if you don't want your kids to, all power to you. If behaviourally challenged means bullying, disruptive and violent, I can see good reason to get the heck out of there.
It reminds me of when I was talking to a man who was in custody - for 8 criminal charges in a row. He told me about some of the gaol culture, and said to me, despite the shock and disgust of some of the doings of inmates, "You know, it's [gaol] is a real learning experience!"
"You know, I don't think I'm in a hurry to become an inmate and get that learning experience!" I replied.
There are some experiences in life that being 'protected' from - well, who cares if someone uses it as an insult?
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
You Know, Uno Anonymous
I think I should start an Uno Anonymous Society. There would be one member right here, me. But with a name like Uno Anonymous, that number is about right.
I'm addicted. It's dire. Lately, Mr Coffee has won several matches of Uno by massive margins, and I'm desperate to win them back. It's a matter of pride, I tell you. It's a matter, of you know, Uno.
My desperation has made me do some silly things. In my wild fever of sorting my hand out so I'd have the Mr Snuffleupagus's all ready in a row to defend, I failed to note that Mr Coffee didn't say "Uno!" - and I got hit with a menacing Draw 4 and he won over 200 points from me in one game. A cruel blow. That's what happens when cards make you throw caution to the wind, and my Uno Society is determined to cap that.
The more I lose, the more I play, like a pokey machine addict, or Pauline Hanson.
I beg for help.
I'm addicted. It's dire. Lately, Mr Coffee has won several matches of Uno by massive margins, and I'm desperate to win them back. It's a matter of pride, I tell you. It's a matter, of you know, Uno.
My desperation has made me do some silly things. In my wild fever of sorting my hand out so I'd have the Mr Snuffleupagus's all ready in a row to defend, I failed to note that Mr Coffee didn't say "Uno!" - and I got hit with a menacing Draw 4 and he won over 200 points from me in one game. A cruel blow. That's what happens when cards make you throw caution to the wind, and my Uno Society is determined to cap that.
The more I lose, the more I play, like a pokey machine addict, or Pauline Hanson.
I beg for help.
The Tale Of The Control-Freak Office Manager
I have just recovered from a weekend of irreverent slobbish lazying, DVD-watching and honey-macadamia nut gorging, and reluctantly crawl out to the real virtual world.
I am glad to report that I have indeed finished the 75 days of Law placement - hurrah! I walked back down Liverpool Street with my fellow law clerk on my last afternoon, having an emotional farewell every few steps, and then reminding myself I had a celebratory Japanese dinner awaiting me (early booking) so I couldn't keep doing this, so I dashed off after the 473rd hug and promise to keep in touch by mobile, SMS, email and to pop in at lunch times for no particular reason.
Some things, though I won't miss about work:
1. Waking up early by my alarm
2. Waking up again by my second alarm because I dozed off after my first
3. Running to catch the bus
4. Running to catch the bus in the rain
5. Chain smokers
6. No time to blog
7. This one pop song that I don't know the name of but I know the tune by heart and I know one line by heart. It must come on the radio at least four times a day, and every time it does, my office manager starts singing it out loud. Badly. And shrieks out one line piercingly. Help!
8. My office manager
Yes, my office manager is one of the chain smokers.
Perhaps my Office Manager can best be explained through a little, dare I say, moral story?
The Tale Of The Control-Freak Office Manager
Once upon a time there was an Office Manager who managed a little office where there were some animals working for her. They were not stupid animals, but she treated them as though they were stupid, and she gave them rather confusing orders, which made them look stupid.
At least to her.
One day an iguana came to work for the Office Manager.
"You must not answer the telephone, unless I am too busy to answer it," said the Office Manager.
The iguana ignored the telephone. "Why aren't you answering the telephone, I am busy!" screamed the Office Manager, getting rather red.
The iguana was rather confused, as the Office manager had been playing solitaire on the computer and having a smoke. But next time she answered the phone. "Put it down, I told you not to answer it!" shrieked the Office Manager.
Poor Iguana!
It was like this for the Pretty little Hen upstairs, and the horse, and even the Lion was cowered even though he was supposed to be king. The Office Manager shrieked and confused them all. A rabbit gave her resignation, and a giraffe proudly walked out the door - or would have looked very proud if he hadn't had to bend his neck a lot to get out.
Very soon it was just the Office Manager sitting there with her solitaire and her smokes.
Wondering what she - how she - did manage.
P.S. I rather liked to be an iguana, at least just once in my blogging life!
P.P.S. Yes, Mr Coffee and I did watch 'Miss Potter' as our celebratory end of Law Placement DVD. Recommended.
I am glad to report that I have indeed finished the 75 days of Law placement - hurrah! I walked back down Liverpool Street with my fellow law clerk on my last afternoon, having an emotional farewell every few steps, and then reminding myself I had a celebratory Japanese dinner awaiting me (early booking) so I couldn't keep doing this, so I dashed off after the 473rd hug and promise to keep in touch by mobile, SMS, email and to pop in at lunch times for no particular reason.
Some things, though I won't miss about work:
1. Waking up early by my alarm
2. Waking up again by my second alarm because I dozed off after my first
3. Running to catch the bus
4. Running to catch the bus in the rain
5. Chain smokers
6. No time to blog
7. This one pop song that I don't know the name of but I know the tune by heart and I know one line by heart. It must come on the radio at least four times a day, and every time it does, my office manager starts singing it out loud. Badly. And shrieks out one line piercingly. Help!
8. My office manager
Yes, my office manager is one of the chain smokers.
Perhaps my Office Manager can best be explained through a little, dare I say, moral story?
The Tale Of The Control-Freak Office Manager
Once upon a time there was an Office Manager who managed a little office where there were some animals working for her. They were not stupid animals, but she treated them as though they were stupid, and she gave them rather confusing orders, which made them look stupid.
At least to her.
One day an iguana came to work for the Office Manager.
"You must not answer the telephone, unless I am too busy to answer it," said the Office Manager.
The iguana ignored the telephone. "Why aren't you answering the telephone, I am busy!" screamed the Office Manager, getting rather red.
The iguana was rather confused, as the Office manager had been playing solitaire on the computer and having a smoke. But next time she answered the phone. "Put it down, I told you not to answer it!" shrieked the Office Manager.
Poor Iguana!
It was like this for the Pretty little Hen upstairs, and the horse, and even the Lion was cowered even though he was supposed to be king. The Office Manager shrieked and confused them all. A rabbit gave her resignation, and a giraffe proudly walked out the door - or would have looked very proud if he hadn't had to bend his neck a lot to get out.
Very soon it was just the Office Manager sitting there with her solitaire and her smokes.
Wondering what she - how she - did manage.
P.S. I rather liked to be an iguana, at least just once in my blogging life!
P.P.S. Yes, Mr Coffee and I did watch 'Miss Potter' as our celebratory end of Law Placement DVD. Recommended.
Friday, 6 July 2007
Dear Maria: Actually, Ask a Statistician
The fretfully in love, and sexually embarrassed on Ask Sam
(previously known as Sam And The City) were confronted with the statistic from wherever Sam gets her stats, which was that the average man has had 7 sexual partners, and the average woman has had 4 sexual partners, which "doesn't add up" complained some, and bewailedcertain others, "women must be lying, where are all these extra women that men are sleeping with???" ('Course, couldn't be the men who were exaggerating their sexual prowess.)
Of course the stats could add up.
The average (whoever "average" is) man has had 7 sexual partners. The average female has had 4 sexual partners.
Doesn't say that those partners are all of the opposite sex.
Or for that matter, even human.
--
Postscript:
Jerry Springer's team read the above paragraph and has started storyboarding:
My hubby is bi, homo, gay, queer, experimental, and every othe not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that word you can think of!
My boyfriend bonks aliens!
I found my partner bonking a squirrel and now I'm experiencing insecurity problems and furry fantasies!
My man has ghost fetishes and it's driving me nuts!
My father likes it with ... well however you'd describe it you can't call my piano teacher human!
(previously known as Sam And The City) were confronted with the statistic from wherever Sam gets her stats, which was that the average man has had 7 sexual partners, and the average woman has had 4 sexual partners, which "doesn't add up" complained some, and bewailedcertain others, "women must be lying, where are all these extra women that men are sleeping with???" ('Course, couldn't be the men who were exaggerating their sexual prowess.)
Of course the stats could add up.
The average (whoever "average" is) man has had 7 sexual partners. The average female has had 4 sexual partners.
Doesn't say that those partners are all of the opposite sex.
Or for that matter, even human.
--
Postscript:
Jerry Springer's team read the above paragraph and has started storyboarding:
My hubby is bi, homo, gay, queer, experimental, and every othe not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that word you can think of!
My boyfriend bonks aliens!
I found my partner bonking a squirrel and now I'm experiencing insecurity problems and furry fantasies!
My man has ghost fetishes and it's driving me nuts!
My father likes it with ... well however you'd describe it you can't call my piano teacher human!
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Brought to you by The Sydney Morning Herald's Sunday Life, and D. Morgan, Esquire
The article "The Best Mates I've Never Met" disturbed me. We mistake these confessions and narcissistic displays for intimacy. We're treating each other as freak shows and fleeting entertainment. Everyone is too busy delivering their opinions and emotions to reflect on anything at length or listen attentively to anyone else or check the facts. If blogging makes you part of a community, why are bloggers sitting in front of computer screens alone? I can understand why it is a lifeline for people who are isolated by geography. war, age, illness, disability or carer's duties but I wonder if we should spend less time talking about ourselves to strangers and more getting to know our neighbours.
D. Morgan
Wollstonecraft, NSW
(Watch out, Wollstonecraftians, there's a D. Morgan out to get to know you all. That is, if John Howard, your friendly neighbourhood politician, doesn't get there first with some hefty hand-shaking.)
I found this in a Letters to the Editor section of the magazine, and the following thoughts tumbled out:
1. "If blogging makes you part of a community, why are bloggers sitting in front of computer screens alone?" - This sounds like "if those girls are having fun why don't they go to nightclubs, instead they stay at home and read books?" question. Answer - because they're having a different kind of fun from you. Doh!
2. WE mistake ... WE'RE treating each others as freaks ... What the heck are you doing D. Morgan? Don't automatically include me in it! - You need my explicit permission! - While I'm not high on my orange juice, chocolate binge or a good blog post!
3. It's so nice to know that blogging is what makes you a narcissistic pontificator, incapable of listening, rather than your personality. And no other medium does this - not even a Letters Page to the Editor.
4. And my neighbour couldn't be a complete stranger. (or a narcissistic pontificator who doesn't listen.)
D. Morgan
Wollstonecraft, NSW
(Watch out, Wollstonecraftians, there's a D. Morgan out to get to know you all. That is, if John Howard, your friendly neighbourhood politician, doesn't get there first with some hefty hand-shaking.)
I found this in a Letters to the Editor section of the magazine, and the following thoughts tumbled out:
1. "If blogging makes you part of a community, why are bloggers sitting in front of computer screens alone?" - This sounds like "if those girls are having fun why don't they go to nightclubs, instead they stay at home and read books?" question. Answer - because they're having a different kind of fun from you. Doh!
2. WE mistake ... WE'RE treating each others as freaks ... What the heck are you doing D. Morgan? Don't automatically include me in it! - You need my explicit permission! - While I'm not high on my orange juice, chocolate binge or a good blog post!
3. It's so nice to know that blogging is what makes you a narcissistic pontificator, incapable of listening, rather than your personality. And no other medium does this - not even a Letters Page to the Editor.
4. And my neighbour couldn't be a complete stranger. (or a narcissistic pontificator who doesn't listen.)
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Men Don't Understand Me! Waaahh!
And I thought I just didn't get the romantic life.
Perhaps we'll start a little "What Shall I Do With My Love Life?" column, right here. All responses welcome. As a long time contributor to the hugely entertaining, highly addictive, often turning-into-jelly-wrestling-type-lowbrow banter blog, Sam And The City (if that offends anyone, please let me know and I'll ignore your complaints - I'm sure even the most ardent fans will agree that Sam's blog doesn't exactly massage the highest of their cerebral functions, or if it does, then ... oh dear) - the topic now turns to romance. Or lack of it.
I head to the streets, and turn my attention to the distressed Pinky.
Maria: Pinky, let me guess. Man problems?
Pinky: Isn't it always? My boyfriend is an idiot. He doesn't know what I want!
Maria: Hmmm, neither do I. What do you want?
Pinky: Boyfriends are jerks! The last one didn't stay long enough to be a boyfriend. He just has sex for a week then he disappears!
Maria: Ummmm ... welll ... Pinky: *glares* I AM NOT A SLUT!
Maria: Errh, I wasn't going to say that. *thinks: next interview I will bring a bodyguard/bulletproof vest/at least a heavy baseball bat*
Pinky: Then the next one gets all gooey eyed and wants to have kids and be my husband - can you believe it? My husband?
Maria: *thinks of glaring eyes* I definitely can't.
Pinky: I just want a gorgeous hunk of spunk who I can use for sex when I want and who'll spoil me rotten and adore me and never look at anyone else but won't marry me and doesn't expect commitment - is that too much to ask?
Maria: Errh ...
Pinky: Men are idiots aren't they?
Maria: *thinks: you'd better hope so* Thanks Pinky, good luck.
There's always someone with a pressing problem. Plenty of those unlucky in love out there.
Perhaps we'll start a little "What Shall I Do With My Love Life?" column, right here. All responses welcome. As a long time contributor to the hugely entertaining, highly addictive, often turning-into-jelly-wrestling-type-lowbrow banter blog, Sam And The City (if that offends anyone, please let me know and I'll ignore your complaints - I'm sure even the most ardent fans will agree that Sam's blog doesn't exactly massage the highest of their cerebral functions, or if it does, then ... oh dear) - the topic now turns to romance. Or lack of it.
I head to the streets, and turn my attention to the distressed Pinky.
Maria: Pinky, let me guess. Man problems?
Pinky: Isn't it always? My boyfriend is an idiot. He doesn't know what I want!
Maria: Hmmm, neither do I. What do you want?
Pinky: Boyfriends are jerks! The last one didn't stay long enough to be a boyfriend. He just has sex for a week then he disappears!
Maria: Ummmm ... welll ... Pinky: *glares* I AM NOT A SLUT!
Maria: Errh, I wasn't going to say that. *thinks: next interview I will bring a bodyguard/bulletproof vest/at least a heavy baseball bat*
Pinky: Then the next one gets all gooey eyed and wants to have kids and be my husband - can you believe it? My husband?
Maria: *thinks of glaring eyes* I definitely can't.
Pinky: I just want a gorgeous hunk of spunk who I can use for sex when I want and who'll spoil me rotten and adore me and never look at anyone else but won't marry me and doesn't expect commitment - is that too much to ask?
Maria: Errh ...
Pinky: Men are idiots aren't they?
Maria: *thinks: you'd better hope so* Thanks Pinky, good luck.
There's always someone with a pressing problem. Plenty of those unlucky in love out there.
Thursday, 28 June 2007
Err hmm - Taxpayer Funded Intelligentsia, Aussie style?
I came across this government report, enticingly titled: Report: Link between head injury and serious violent offences .
My first thought upon reading the title was, "several years of research and tens of thousands of taxpayers' dollars spent to come to the conclusion that when someone beats you repeatedly on the skull with a crowbar, it causes damage?"
Now that's money well spent.
My first thought upon reading the title was, "several years of research and tens of thousands of taxpayers' dollars spent to come to the conclusion that when someone beats you repeatedly on the skull with a crowbar, it causes damage?"
Now that's money well spent.
Wednesday, 27 June 2007
Emergency Post
If an ambulance hits you as it's speeding to someone in need, will it stop to assist you, or call another ambulance and go to the person who called it?
Actually, this question has been bothering me for some time about the emergency services, so much so that I think about it every time I hear the emergency siren. I was almost crossing a road when a truck with a siren ran the red light and I thought "Oh, I could have jumped in front of it, got knocked over and tested what would have happened!" Oh dear.
Then I realised it was a fire engine.
I heard another today, but it was an ambulance motorcycle (it's the first time I've seen one of those). It's not quite the same thing, is it?
This is really getting to me. It's like, if doctors get sick, do they write their own sick notes to say they're too sick to go to work? .... or come to hospital?
I've never been a doctor before (or for that matter, an ambulance) so I don't know.
Actually, this question has been bothering me for some time about the emergency services, so much so that I think about it every time I hear the emergency siren. I was almost crossing a road when a truck with a siren ran the red light and I thought "Oh, I could have jumped in front of it, got knocked over and tested what would have happened!" Oh dear.
Then I realised it was a fire engine.
I heard another today, but it was an ambulance motorcycle (it's the first time I've seen one of those). It's not quite the same thing, is it?
This is really getting to me. It's like, if doctors get sick, do they write their own sick notes to say they're too sick to go to work? .... or come to hospital?
I've never been a doctor before (or for that matter, an ambulance) so I don't know.
Guilty, Guilty, Guilty
Ahh heck. It seems only recently I was writing a whole lot of agonised posts about job interviews, and soon I may be writing them all over again, because this li'l job at this 'ere place is coming to an end pretty darn soon. Or maybe it only seens pretty recent because I've been lazy about updating this blog, so it's only been a few posts ago, but quite a while ago?
Anyhow, news from this job: We lost. I mean the court case. A lovely farewell card to this job.
I felt terribly nervous when the jury came in with the verdict, and when they finally said it "Guilty. Guilty. Guilty." - I wasn't sure how to react.
I'm glad I didn't react like one man in the court, who for some reason got so excited he started cheering at the guilty verdict and rushing about with glee, which didn't make anyone feel any better, and didn't impress the judge too much.
The accused's mother broke down and started screaming, and they had to call an ambulance.
The truth is, you spend so much time preparing for this and talking to the families, and in the end you will never know if he was guilty or if he was not. Maybe he deserved to go to gaol, or perhaps he is an innocent man who will be locked away. There is just a lump inside you when you remember, especially, his crying mother, his laughing children.
Anyhow, news from this job: We lost. I mean the court case. A lovely farewell card to this job.
I felt terribly nervous when the jury came in with the verdict, and when they finally said it "Guilty. Guilty. Guilty." - I wasn't sure how to react.
I'm glad I didn't react like one man in the court, who for some reason got so excited he started cheering at the guilty verdict and rushing about with glee, which didn't make anyone feel any better, and didn't impress the judge too much.
The accused's mother broke down and started screaming, and they had to call an ambulance.
The truth is, you spend so much time preparing for this and talking to the families, and in the end you will never know if he was guilty or if he was not. Maybe he deserved to go to gaol, or perhaps he is an innocent man who will be locked away. There is just a lump inside you when you remember, especially, his crying mother, his laughing children.
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
I'll just have the platelets, hold the blood ...
Has anyone ever been inspired by one of these posters (found outside the Red Cross, in Sydney's Clarence Street), to burst into the donation centre, and say,
"Hi, I'd like to donate a large number of platelets, you can take a moderate amount of plasma, but no blood. Cool with you?"?
"Hi, I'd like to donate a large number of platelets, you can take a moderate amount of plasma, but no blood. Cool with you?"?
Monday, 4 June 2007
Frostbitten Mittens
I have recently taken to singing Christmas songs, and it's driving Mr Coffee crazy, not just because I can't hold a note to save my life, but because I'm really early or really late for Christmas, depending on whether you're a cup half-full-or-half-empty type of person.
But it's not my fault, it's because of all those mulchy Christmas symbols with snowmen wearing Christmas caps and houses covered in white. My hands are getting frostbitten, and I'm beginning to think it's a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite Christmas. I'm also wondering at how I'm actually going to get to the end of this post. Every so often I have to sit on my hands and hope this warms my hands up just so I can type a few more letters, otherwise there would be no more post.
I don't know how the Eskimos can stand it. They say they had 42 words for snow or something, but what's the use of them if your fingers are so frozen you can't write any of them down?
But it's not my fault, it's because of all those mulchy Christmas symbols with snowmen wearing Christmas caps and houses covered in white. My hands are getting frostbitten, and I'm beginning to think it's a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite Christmas. I'm also wondering at how I'm actually going to get to the end of this post. Every so often I have to sit on my hands and hope this warms my hands up just so I can type a few more letters, otherwise there would be no more post.
I don't know how the Eskimos can stand it. They say they had 42 words for snow or something, but what's the use of them if your fingers are so frozen you can't write any of them down?
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