Absentino

Well, will you just look at that? Weeks and weeks have passed by and there has been nary a post in sight.

I would have been almightily booted from my guild if I indulged in such behaviour in my alternate WoW life. Lucky they don't know who I am.

If only I had that same arrangement with Facebook [muttering].

Still, it's been quite a busy time.

Really.

I've been doing a mosaic course and some house rearrangements, getting prepped for Christmas and voting. I think voting was the last straw. Honestly. I just can't get pumped up about politics. I fear I suffer from the whole "we live in a really safe electorate, it doesn't matter what I do" apathy. Not to mention the fact that all the political ads make me want to punish the television in cruel and unusual ways...

"I will stick with Facebook for the long haul" EEERGH!!

"I won't" DIIIING!!

All I can say is thank goodness the great democratic shenanigans are over and we can all get back to focusing on the pov, non-ratings season melodramas that are about to hit our little screens. Oh boy!

Aaanyway, I've just been rummaging through some of our historical holiday pics in a pathetic attempt to find an acceptable Facebook profile photo, and I've been thinking how terribly slack I am at doing anything with all those happy snaps. I mean I realise that if I was so inclined I could, say, post them on Facebook. But let's face it - I'm not so inclined. So what can I do?

Perhaps I will simply post an unrelated holiday image to each of my posts from now on. I could even add some thoughtful, little-known, and possibly invented tidbit about the location of choice as a clincher.

For example, did you know that this castle is the home of my prehistoric, leprechaunian relatives? They used to sit atop it hurling tiny potatoes and large insults at the insolent lamppost. Ahhh, good times.

Facebook - Work of the Devil

What am I thinking?

Last time, I could only handle Facebook for about three days. So why oh why am I back on the FB horse?? :S

You are spot on in thinking that it would have to be something pretty darn special for me to take this leap of faith again. And it is.

A very good friend of mine in Melbs has just had a no-doubt gorgeous, talented, baby boy with mad skills far beyond his years (or days), and guess where the photos are being posted...

So, I find myself, once again, a slave to the online plague that is Facebook. What shall I do? Poke someone? Admire all those cities I've travelled to?

Nah, I think I'll just keep posting on this blog and import it! (Who does Facebook work for, uh?)

No Sleep, No Blog

Yes, I've taken another break from blogging - there is a world outside the PC you know...

But here is one more cool little thing that has shunted me out of my blog-rut:



I swear this is Thistle's instruction video.

Tix

It seems I just won a double pass to check out the Network Ten premiere screening of The Bourne Ultimatum at Southbank on Monday night...

BOOYAH!

Ekkascellent!

It is Winter in Bris Vegas, and that means one thing. EKKA TIME!

And FLU SEASON.

It means TWO things. Ekka time AND flu season.

If I could just think of a third thing, this would be a truly glorious post. But no.

So back to the point - the EKKA.

In the last week, I have had the enviable pleasure of talking to some of those zany Southern types - you know, "Victorians" and such. We've been chatting about this and that. Social highlights, work gossip and, at least from my end, the EKKA.

And I am outraged. It has become apparent that our lower states (yes, south = lower in my world) DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE EKKA IS.

"What does 'Ek-ka' stand for?" they ask, pronouncing 'Ekka' like it's a dirty little slug. "Is it like that expo thing you had?" they query. (And adding insult to injury, "Yeah, you know, that expo in '89?")

Well, firstly, for all the culture vultures out there, 'Ekka' stands for 'Exhibition'. Or 'Royal Queensland Show' - though, admittedly, that title is slightly less obvious. And secondly, although the Ekka is many things to many people, no, the Ekka is NOTHING like Expo '88.

For some, the Ekka is about the rural animals making a trip into the big smoke. For others, it's the fireworks and sideshow alley. Some just go for the showbags and rides. But most? Well, most go for the dagwood dogs. And the flu.

Personally, I haven't gone to the Ekka for quite a number of years now. But what would I know? I knit these days.

To all the diehard fans though, I say, keep on truckin' - don't fight it. After all, it's hard to keep a good man, or a dagwood dog, down.


PS. As for the pic, these wee tykes were huddled in a pen at Central Station - genius marketing I think.
PPS. The durgy blur at the bottom of the picture is a pig, yes.

Wraps-A-Million (Everything must go...)

Working within ASIC's Consumer Protection Directorate, it's no surprise that my colleagues are a bunch of die-hard do-gooders. But in the last few weeks, our little team (together with roped-in family and friends), has truly gone beyond the call of duty.

In a bout of extraordinary commitment, my fellow male and female work buddies have pulled together in the massive extra-curricular effort of producing not one, but TWO, full-blown, colour-coordinated, mammoth woolly wraps! (Agreed that 'woolly mammoth' wraps would be even more impressive, but you have to work with what you have.)

So why-oh-why have we been sitting around like little nigel nanas? For the great 'Wrap with Love' phenomenon, of course! This event calls for sturdy adventurers to join forces in a knitting frenzy to create woolen wraps for the cold and needy people of the world. Far and wide, where there are cool climates and just not enough resources to go around, our larey wraps will be there. Chile. Mongolia. Tasmania.

Sadly, the photos really don't do the wraps justice - they are truly something to behold in real life. And warm to boot. Choice bro.

I'd love to send out huge props AND kudos to our inspirational and fearless leader who, despite much adversity (generally personified as boys with needles), pulled us through. Unfortunately, however, due to her propensity for modesty and double life as a dentist, her identity will, I fear, have to remain a mystery. Too bad...

Aaanyway, needless to say that after the last month of intensive training, I am now in peak knitting condition. So what better way to come down from my high than by biting off more than I can chew, and launching into my very own mega-lap-rug? Uber-cool pastime, I know. At least it will keep me out of trouble (and, fingers crossed, chores) for the next 6 months or so. Will have to wait and see...

Will endeavour to keep the blog updated with developments, in a desperate attempt to maintain motivation. So let me say, there is already one square down, with another 30 or so to go.

Still, even if I don't end up meeting my personal challenge, at least the whole 'Wrap with Love' experience has brought cold humanity, and knitting, back into the public eye.

To the fellowship of the wrap...
Australia says WOOT!

Much Better Places To Be. Seriously.

No.

Hell no.

I want to know, RIGHT NOW, the name and place of residence of the sorry sorry person responsible for canning Torchwood.

I have been hanging, ALL WEEK, to watch Torchwood tonight. And it is not on. Not even a LITTLE BIT.

I simply do not understand. I refuse to believe that it did not rate well. It had all the elements of a cult classic - implausible stories, questionable acting, low budget sets. What's not to love? It was up there with the best of them... South Park, Iron Chef*, Antiques Roadshow.

Yes, it was a little unrealistic - a couple of examples eloquently summarised and quoted from the Aussie Cult Fiction website :


Episode 2 - Day One

An alien entity (personified as a sexy purple mist) wreaks havoc in Cardiff. It finds a human host-body and proceeds to feed itself by bringing other people to orgasm and incinerating them at this point. Deadly shagging ensues.


Episode 4 - Cyberwoman

A Torchwood employee, Lisa, was partially cybernised by the Cybermen in the Battle of Canary Wharf (events depicted in the last two episodes of the 2006 series of Doctor Who). She's been hanging out in the basement of Torchwood 3, and she decides to go apeshit.

NB: And that's not even mentioning that the cunning plan to rid Torchwood of 'Lisa' was to sick the pet pterodactyl on her. Genius.


But the Sydney Morning Herald's The Guide's review got it spot on, saying "The appeal of Torchwood is not so much that it's gloriously implausible sci-fi pulp, but that it knows it's gloriously implausible, sci-fi pulp."

And I ask you, truly, is that not the best type of sci-fi pulp?

Ok, there's no denying that the show's sci-fi budget was a little on the minimalist side, and was always, always, kept for the last 5 minutes. But this was all part of Torchwood's charm. I mean, it's a BBC production set in Cardiff. Yes, Cardiff, WALES, people! We're lucky they speak English.

And let us, just for a moment, consider what the substitute option is tonight - a documentary special on the alleged opening of Jesus Christ's tomb. I don't want to watch that! Why, EVER, would I want to watch that?? Channel 10, seriously. Have you forgotten your target audience? i.e. ME?? I love you Channel 10. I have no VCR, recordable DVD player, little recordy box thing, or Foxtel. I don't even change commercial tv channels!

As I like to say, "If it's not on Channel 10, it's not worth watching."

But this time, you've cut me deep Channel 10.

Torchwood at 12am Wednesdays?

That decision may well be 'separate from the government, outside the police and beyond the United Nations'... But it is also just WRONG.


*Speaking of Iron Chef, a 'please explain' goes out to you too SBS. No Iron Chef for the last two weeks now. Hmm....

The Black Pearl

Heh heh.

Funny.

You watch now!
(You watch now, bitch)

Absolute Bollocks

Two weeks ago to the day I attended my first trivia night. And won. (With just a little help from the other geniuses in my team, of course).

Unsurprisingly, following on from this unprecedented high, one week ago to the day I attended my second trivia night. And came third. Still respectable, yes, but slightly disappointing given the previous week's glory. And, in some ways, outright embarrassing as the winning team was a trio of teeny-chicks who had the air of particularly dense numbats about them.

Still, not to be put off, three hours ago to the now I attended my third trivia night. And came, well, somewhere beyond third - I lost count. Fair enough that the questions this week were a degree of difficulty higher than previous weeks, and may have suited some people's particular topics of interest (i.e. Shakespeare & Greek & Roman Mythology)....

But it is ABSOLUTE BOLLOCKS that the triad of devilry won again. Having suffered a second taunting from these children, it became clear in my mind that they must be witches and we should BURN THEM. However, just as I reached for the lighter, a colleague tactfully pointed out that the chickettes appeared to have been using a magical device to assist them throughout the night. A telephone of mobility. Or "mobile phone", they said.



To this minute, it is still unknown whether the chicklets phoned a friend or are, indeed, witches. Either way, I stick to the point that their victory is absolute bollocks and we should, without hesitation, burn them.

World of Warcraft (and Silly Little Boys)

A most amazing thing happened to me the other day when I was playing Warcraft...

Most Warcraft sessions involve me seeking out fellow players to help in the odd quest. But the other day a strange thing happened - I received an unprecedented number of group invites, guild membership proposals and unsolicited comments.

One guy (a pov little lvl 1 human) even singled out my alt's* avatar** (Tinks) amongst the throng outside Stormwind auction house, and proceeded to follow me to the bank and out to the Stormwind gates. He soon whispered me***, which I stupidly responded to, and the next thing I knew he was following me out the gates into Elwynn Forest. I tried to hide behind one of the castle's buttresses on the way out, but no cigar.

He asked if he could hang out with me, but I explained that with me being a mighty lvl 12 and him a lowly lvl 1, I just didn't think the relationship would work. Despite this seemingly reasonable argument, he blindly followed me into Elwynn Forest where he was promptly slaughtered by a murloc. Sadly not before he offered to pay**** me to let him hang around though.

(And yes, I asked him what exactly he thought he'd be buying, and he responded with 'A friend').

(Puh-).

(-Lease).

Fortunately, I ran away before he ressed***** and haven't heard from him since.

I guess what still stumps me is what the big deal was the other day. Jesse thinks it may have been my sparkling personality. But I don't know...




Methinks Tinks' newly-acquired Bloodspattered Loincloth of the Bear may also bear some responsibility.


*"Alt" - alternative character (generally created when supreme boredom with your initial character kicks in).
**"Avatar" - visual representation of a character.
***"Whisper" - the act of sending a real-time message exclusively to one player.
****"Pay me" - in WoW money of course... what do you take me for?
*****"Ressed" - resurrected. .. duh...

Noobs

Although I feel somewhat advanced in the WoW arena these days - being up with the acronyms and having created my first alt - I haven't forgotten those painful, early days as a noob.

And so, for all the noobs out there... this one's for you.

Out of Retirement

Bonjour encore mine kiddles.

Although I have relished the relaxing, 6-or-so month hiatus I have had from blogging, I have a sudden compulsion to get back in the game. To dust myself off and get back on the horse shall we say. To throw my hat back in the ring.

'What could cause such a ruckus?' I hear you think. Well this is gold, my friends. Pure gold. A genius website with an appropriately genius title: I Can Has Cheezburger? You may delve into this gem at your leisure (and there really is much delving to be done, my treasures). But to get you in the mood, here are some current hot shots...

For the sporties:

And the filmies:

For the lost:

For the nerds:


And the nerdiers:

And finally, in a tribute to the classics, the original and arguably the best - the 'happycat':

kthx. brb. bai.

Answers

Ok, so I have been in exceptionally poor blogging form lately. The subtle chastising from certain parties who will remain unnamed has made this shameful fact abundantly clear. But let me explain...

We have recently committed the cardinal sin of any serious bloggartiste. Yes. It's true. We have succumbed to the irresistibly evil pull of the greatest of MMORPGs*, World of Warcraft.

Given my new-found dedication to 'WoW', I would really appreciate it if you could all call me by my avatar name from now on - Stara. And please refrain from introducing me as a friend from school, work or such. I would much prefer the representation that we met at the night elf camp for beginners in Teldrassil where I was the most promising druid to hit the scene in a good couple of weeks. Also, please avoid any taint of sarcasm when commenting on how you admire my dashing long ears and striking green hair - it would be a poor decision to forget that I have a Medicine Staff of the Monkey with +3 Bashing, +4 Gashing and your name all over it.

Please also bear in mind that whilst you may be whiling away your time waiting for me to post on this blog, I am saving a world. Saving a world dammit. The Horde aren't just going to slay themselves. Someone has to be ever-watchful and look out for the deeries and squirrellies and things. And that someone might as well be me. So a little patience would be much appreciated during these perilous times.

Thank you.


P.S. Yes, the reason why I'm suddenly blogging IS because the WoW server is down for servicing. What's your point?



*For the less nerdically inclined, MMORPG = massively multiplayer online role playing game = virtual world with lots of equally tragic people running around pretending to be kick-arse war machines wreaking havoc upon an evil world of undead coolies.

Cocktails & Dreams

In a bout of organisation (by other people, of course), I recently found myself catching up with some old school buddies at the hallowed grounds of West End.

We kicked off at the Lychee Lounge - one of the most terrifyingly chic establishments in all of Bris Vegas. Fortunately, because we'd come quite early, the Lounge wasn't totally jumping yet, so my fears were somewhat allayed.

A short squizz of the extensive cocktail list and we'd each chosen our poison. I'd thoroughly recommend my 'Turkish Delight', with genuine rosewater and everything. Very lovely. And very pink. Certainly calmed my nerves, which were a little on edge due to the barbie-doll-head chandeliers...

Aaanyway, the stomach grumblies soon called for a mosey over to the Ottoman Cafe, just 'round the corner by the Gunshop Cafe. I'd wanted to go to the Ottoman for ages, having long admired its cute fairy lights and Aegian blue glass, so I was extremely happy by this turn of events.

Not surprisingly, the Ottoman's offerings were lamb, lamb, lamb, chicken and lamb. And the vegetarian option was beef ravioli. Odd. Still, the meal was great and the entertainment entertaining - featuring a charming (but not overly useful) French Turkish waiter, and a crazy-arsed 'hips don't lie' belly dancer.

Oh, and for the record, everyone should try hot Turkish apple tea some time. I like apples. I like tea. I REALLY like apple tea - even after I spilled it all over the table and it had to be mopped up by the hot French Turkish waiter. (Oh. Did I neglect to mention how hot he was before? Hmm...)

Still, leaving the fair shores of the Otto behind, we made a short cross to every late-20-something Brisbanite's sentimental favourite, the Three Monkeys. A few biscuits and soup-sized chais later, it was time to call it a night - but not before a quick sighting of Mutto from 2006 Aus Idol. Wow.

Who would have thought anyone could pack so much manic liquid chaos into one night, huh? I, for one, am well impressed with myself. We are wicked kewl.

Sayonara Oosutoraria

'Why is it that it is that you have titled this post in Japanese Ari-san?', I hear you all think.

Well my friends, that, quite obviously, would be because we're going to JAPAN!

Truediddly. In an unprecedented bout of irresponsible frivolity, Jesse and I have made a snap decision to spend a couple of weeks over Easter touring the land-o-rising-sun. We did spend a good couple of minutes deliberating the merits of the usual South East Asia suspects, but soon agreed that they were far too affordable; and, really, what could be cooler than communal baths, silky bathrobes and all-season socks and sandals.

Now, unsurprisingly, some sad, sorry and cynical friends have already taken the opportunity to point out that our lack of Japanese language skills may pose some problems. Bah! I flap my hands at them. My high school Jap studies are about to pay dividends, and then some.

Prepare to be amazed. For I can actually remember how to say 'Let's go to the beach by train.'* Aaaaand, I can, when pressed, interchange 'beach' with 'mountains'. How hard can it be after you've mastered that sort of bilingual gold? Hells bells! I've even read 'Memoirs of a Geisha'.

And watched the movie.

So bring it on ye friends of little faith.

Bring. It. On.

* For the record, that would be something at least reasonably close to 'Uma ni densha de ikimashoo-ka.' Yeah! Take that all you doubting Thomases who said that Geography was a more reliable subject for future success and happiness.

Reading Is For The Children

I am sure many of you will be shocked to know that I was a complete nerdburger when I was little. (Yes, even more than now.)

I was known to simultaneously read something like SIX or SEVEN books at a time. I look back now with the wisdom of my 20-something years and realise, woah, how completely mad that is. I also realise that I must have been a lot sharper and more enthusiastic then, than I am these tired tired days.

As goes the common tale, the daily survival of high school, uni and work, has caused reading for fun to almost completely drop off my agenda. Sure, I've read a few seriously recommended books (Life of Pi, The Lovely Bones). But they are little books. They didn't hurt my head when I read them.

To the contrary, I am currently reading 'Wild Swans : Three Daughters of China". And I feel like I've been hit by a brick.

Don't mistake my meaning though - I don't mean to run the story down. I'm sure the story is excellent. It's just that I've already invested an embarrassing number of hours into this epic book, and have only covered the intro, family tree, chronology, map and first two pages of Chapter 1.

I've no doubt this situation is a reflection on both myself and the book. But I tell you, I am NOT feeling the love right now.



I think I'll get some vids out.

Australia Says No To The Plant of Spiky Pineness

I have been most lax in expressing my distaste for that class of things and customs I have unilaterally labelled as being unquestionably wrong.

Ok, so raw eggs kicked things off, and I still back that. But the crazy heat of the Summer season has reminded me of another favourite wrongness. That is, fruit in savoury foodstuffs. Most notably, pineapple on any form of pizza, burger or other fast food delight.

And what is with the particular, inexplicable fascination pineapples hold for Queenslanders? Ok, so we grow most of them. But do Queenslanders just lose it over Summer? Is this the best taunting we have for Southerners?? "Ok, so you have some nice architecture, tasteful attire and serious multicultural diversity. But we have PINEAPPLE... on our PIZZA!"

I feel so dirty.

Countdown 2

My previous post referred to my counting down of the very last day of work before a luxurious couple of weeks off.

This post refers to the 350-ish day countdown until my next likely couple of weeks off.


Bingo. You guessed it. I've got the 'First Day Back' blues. I can only hope that my sleeping in through the alarm this morning, and subsequent noticeably late arrival at work, is not an omen of 2007's potential offerings.

Fortunately, I managed to ease myself into the office today with much discussion about everybody's new year resolutions. Amongst the zealous talk of healthy eating, outrageous fitness regimes and ambitious business plans, I was saddened to realise that I had no impressive or thoughtful response to the age-old resolution question when it was bandied my way.

I think part of the problem is that I'm genuinely uncomfortable talking up resolutions that I know, deep down, in my heart of hearts, I have absolutely zero intention of following. If memory serves me correctly, pursuant to my previous years' resolutions, I should, by now, be a multilingual supermodel with a seven figure income and a kitten petting zoo. Alas, dear readers, this is not the case.

And so, if I really must make a resolution for 2007, I would wish for a realistic one. Not work-life balance. Not cleaning the house every Thursday. But for 2007 to simply be a better, happier year than 2006 (which was a shocker).

If I can achieve that, then maybe, just maybe, 2008 may herald the year of the petting zoo.