Which Italian River Shares Its Name With A Teletubby?*

I have always had an unearthly fear of trivia.

Primarily because I do not know anything. I can recite the Corporations Act backwards - sure. But when it comes to the things that really matter, I've got nothing. Nada. Nought. (See? I don't even know any more synonyms for 'nothing').

I was often heard joking that the only skill I brought to a trivia team was the ability to answer Harry Potter questions. Then, this one time at work trivia, we actually got a Harry Potter question, and my answer was definitively WRONG. I can't put the shame into words. Needless to say, since then I don't joke about bringing any skill WHATSOEVER to trivia.

Given this supreme legacy of failure, it is with as much surprise to me as anyone else that I currently find myself in a weekly trivia comp. I'm still not sure that I bring too many l33t trivia skillz to the table, but fortunately "The Right to Arm Bears" (see hand-crafted team logo courtesy of Jim above) hasn't booted me yet, so there's still time to improve.

Mind you, I don't even know how you learn trivia! Yeah, I could scour Wiki for hours on end, but it wouldn't stick. The other day I tried to memorise music and movies of the 1990s. Just pointless. If I haven't seen it, danced to it or karaoked it at least half a dozen times during my life, I'm not going to remember a jot.

And so, until trivia questions are restrained solely to my existing knowledge, or you can win Trivial Pursuit by filling your entire pie with Science wedges, I fear I shall never be known as Ali - Queen of Quizziness.

*The answer is Po. Thank goodness Jim knows his Italian rivers and I know my Teletubbies!

Choice Bro

The Flight of the Conchords. Totally awesome.

Check out a lot of their magic on YouTube. But in the meantime, you can get the feel from this. (I just know you're going to like this Richo!)

"Business Time"

Death By Socks

I am calling for all the testosterone-pumped, suit-clad lads out there to take a stand and just say no to the fashion nicety of dark work socks.

Yes, perhaps a transition to flouro patterned knee-highs may seem a bit drastic in the short-term. But I swear, the endless frustration of trying to match about 1000 pairs of Jesse's virtually identical dark work socks post-wash is going to be the end of me.

And death by socks is not pretty.

PB

I'd like to officially record that QML artfully procured not one, not two, but TWELVE mighty vials of my precious red stuff today.

Yowza.

A personal best.

Pass Me the Tiger Balm...

... for I seem to be missing a rotator cuff.

The first of no doubt many, very necessary sacrifices to the Wii God.

Fortunately, thanks to the wonders of technology, any further injuries to my upper limbs can be cleverly disguised with state-of-the-art, life-like appendages, such as this:



So you will never suspect anything.

Addled (aka The Hierarchy of Skittles)

A short explanation of feudalism in confectionary.

The blackcurrant king always reigns supreme
Closely followed by his strawberry queen.
And whilst the tangerine knight is only all right,
He still pwns plebs in lemon and green.

I have lost it.

You Never Saw This Post Coming

When it's 1am and I can't get to sleep, this is what I'm thinking about...


Ruby red platforms
And bright silver Docs,
Soft ballet slippers
And hard wooden clogs,
Beanies on kittens
And mittens on dogs.
Just some of the things that I like.

Forests of pine
With trees all aligned,
One long and tenuous
Orange peel rind,
Smarties and parties
Of every kind.
A few more of the things that I like.

A bold wish, some goldfish,
Cheap fuel discount dockets,
Strange foreign currency
Lining my pockets,
Fairy lights sprouting from
Twelve power sockets.
Now THOSE are the things that I like.

Then there's big furry Ragdolls
And harsh ginger moggies.
Baking and swimming in
Nice new blue toggies.
Lovers and dreamers
And tiny green froggies.
These things I could not do without.

But sunshowers, blue flowers,
Tempests and tests,
Red Autumn maples
With old cuckoos' nests.
Pieces of eight bound in
Drowned treasure chests.
Their importance cannot be in doubt.

Tridents and wands and
Meandering chats.
Rabbits extracted from
Black magic hats.
Garden gnomes, secret tomes
Celtic knot tatts.
This is what life is about.

The classics, the hacks,
And ol' Jabberwocky.
Hot Subway melts and
The best home-made gnocchi.
Training a lovebird to say
"Hello Cocky!"
Essentials in every day.

Can only be followed
With CDs I've borrowed
But never had time to play.


Aaaalso... (and these are in no particular order...)


There are living mazes and purple hazes,
Thimbles and dimples and chooks.
Words en Francais, dusty cabriolets
And pucka celebrity cooks.

Puddles 'n cuddles 'n
Chilled apple ciders,
Hopscotch 'n dewdrops 'n
Wee jumping spiders,
Glossy black stallions
With brave swarthy riders.
Without them no life is complete.

Whilst hairspray I daresay
Can never be chicer
Than when its imbued
With shiny gold glitter.
Cold footy pies washed
Down with Vic Bitter.
These things simply cannot be beat.

Hi-fis and fireflies and
Spielberg's old sci-fis.
Reindeer on tin rooves
And twinkles in tikes' eyes.
Sweet loot and stone fruit
And dressing in disguise.
Oh! They are all such a treat!


And just a little change in tempo here...


Slushies concocted with strong grapey syrup
Sugar-free green apple gum,
Buttermilk pancakes draped with whipped cream
And jam a la Bonne Maman.

Carp and cows and bunnies so cute,
Oboe and harp and piccolo flute.
Goosebumps and hiccups and shivers with wine.
The strange little phrases that are only mine.

Wii time and me time, an MMORPG or two,
Ribbons and gibbons and jazz at the zoo.
I'd never survive with only a few.
You know what I'm saying is true.

So when it is late
And I'm still wide awake,
I always know just what to do.
Forget counting sheep.
For sure-fire sleep,
I just conjure a riddle or two.

Bienvenue et Hon Hon Hon

It is, bien sur, that temps de la year encore.

The time of lycra-donning, cheese-eating, surrendering and 'hon hon hon'-ing.

LE TOUR TIME!

It's been long (too long) since this festival of music, colour and cycling last hit our soapboxes. And so, it was with irrepressible frothing at the mouth that Jesse and I partook of the first leg yesterday.

The first leg is difficult to recap in one small post. But it started with cycling. It ended with cycling. And I believe there was a bit of cycling in the middle too.

There was also eating from little food baggies (some of which were thrown into other cyclists' spokes causing all worlds of pain and angst). But more importantly, there was Gabriel and his first dish de le tour.

Gabriel is, without doubt, my favourite segment in the daily tour show. Such combinations of fresh seafood, seasonal vegetables and lard, you could never dream of beyond the belle French borders. And don't forget Christian. No gastronomic wonder would be complete without Christian's expert advice vis a vis alcoholic accompaniments. "But what fair dish shall delight our petite tastebuds tonight?" I hear you rumble with your outrrrageous guttural 'r's. Well, tonight we are promised pear tart with lashings of pear... and tart... and cheesy lard I daresay. So keep your stomach grumbling for that one.

The other thing that really piques my interest in le tour is the absolutely stunning countryside and, more strangely, the identical houses. Every one so far has been white with a grey roof. Weird. I realise the French are born with impeccable taste; however I can't help but feel that the Government may be involved in this structural pleasantry somehow. Eitherways, it is utterly beautiful.

Finally, I love all the pretty coloured cyclists with their chrome domes and 22nd Century sunglasses. I am especially infatuated with the pink-dotted King of the Mountain jersey, which is an essential in any Winter wardrobe.

And even more finally, I am also somewhat taken by the team names adopted in this year's tour. "Credit Agricole" - the farmer's bank. "Gerolsteiner" - derived from the large family of steins called Gerol. "Barloworld" - for suits on the go. And "Euskaltel-Euskadi" - which really doesn't mean anything in any language, but is often followed with much hooting and good times aplenty.

And yes, the Euskaltel-Euskadi team is a crowd favourite, 'cause you can never have too much 'good times aplenty'.

Weekend-O-Wii

First of all, may I say HAPPY BIRTHDAY RICHO!

Second of all, may I say THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME PLAY YOUR NEW WII RICHO!

And last of all, may I say WHERE IS MINE RICHO???

THE END

Don't Ask What Facebook Can Do For You...

It is with much regret that I have come to accept that I am a complete and utter Facebook wench. It's much like being a Googlewhore, only sadder.

After a rough beginning to our relationship, it has now blossomed into a whirlwind affair of emails and apps. But it's not as though I haven't been putting the hours in. I mean, just today I completed Facebook's '10 Second Interview' and it took, like, 3 hours or something. Mad.

The other little gem of software I've been checking out lately is the oh-so-sweet Skype. Absolutely everybody should be using this awesome prince of technology. Cheap, effective and simple enough for me to use somewhat adequately. So, three ticks there. Get on it people.

Also on the PC front, we've started to give yet another MMORPG a run - LOTRO, or Lord of the Rings Online to all the non-nerds. I'm still unconvinced that it can match Conan's sweet sweet graphics, but it has NO PvP option. I repeat, NO PvP option. So it's lovely and civil and all good to me. Psych.

Moving away from the world of IT, Jesse and I have also been getting into a bit of hard-core board-gaming action of late. (And you thought this post couldn't get geekier, shame on you). The latest tabletop pleasure to hit our house's fair shores is Shadows Over Camelot, a co-operative game where everyone gets to play a wickedly cool knight of the round table.... or Sir Kay, who I have totally never heard of and who looks a bit dodgy. Aaanyways, the take home message is that this is a super-fun game and is even more enjoyable when consumed whilst donning silly hats.

In truth, I sense that most things are more enjoyable whilst donning silly hats...

Sharing the Love

www.askaninja.com

Check it and thank me later.

Or thank Jim for passing it to me, and thus to you.

Or thank me and I'll pass it on to Jim.


Whatever already! It's aaaall goooood.

BTW...

... I finished Tess.

And it was all kinds of uncharted terrible in the end.

(And no, chasing Tess' climax with being incessantly pwned in Conan has NOT HELPED!) :( :( :(

You Can't Stop the Angry

I HATE PvP SERVERS!

HATE HATE HATE!!!

MY WRATH HAS NO BOUNDS AND NO-ONE CAN SHAKE THE ANGRY PILLS OUT OF ME!!!

What kind of pathetic, squishy, little bug do you have to be to want to play on a PvP server?

If you love pre-pubescent boys, and their infinite lust for bravado, bullying and ABSOLUTE PATHETICNESS OF A DEGREE YOU'RE NEVER LIKELY TO ENCOUNTER AGAIN, then you'll LOVE Conan's PvP servers.

I can't believe we're even attempting to build our guild membership by inviting nice people into it? Nice people?? On a PvP server?? ARE YOU INSANE???

Repulsive, small-minded, tools there are aplenty... but nice people? I fear they are all on PvE servers, which is exactly where I'm ressing back to...

Queen of the Green

I played my first round of golf ever, the other day. And I am a natural.

No, not really. But it was still pretty fun, and some of my shots actually went in the air, which is a good start. We played this teeny 9-hole course at Bulimba which was full of equivalent noobs, and thus just perfect for me.

In fact, such a good time was had, that I'm now thinking of taking some lessons. Obviously, there's little work to be done on my putting given the hours I've already racked up at mini-golf over the years. But my driving and pitching could probably do with some tweaking. :S

Speaking of golf, that is the reason why I'm having such a blog frenzy this morning. Jesse is out having a round with the lads, and it seems to be taking a little longer than expected. They started at 7.30 this morning and, incredibly, are STILL GOING! Further still, Jesse just rang to say that if he's lucky, he'll be home by 1pm. That is just nuts. Liquid nuts.

I think they need me to show them how it's done. :)

Upon My Honour

I am currently reading 'Tess of the D'Urbervilles', which, to my surprise, I am really quite into.

Admittedly, any book that actually uses the phrase 'upon my honour', is always going to get points from me, but I really am amazed at how accessible the story is.

I'm only part-way through, and I'm pretty sure that certain woe approacheth the heroine (which I'm not so into), but I think I might actually make it to the end of this classic. (Unlike '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea', which was hard, hard going and I just couldn't claw my way to the last page).

The other thing that I like about this novel is that it's quite short. Preceding Tess, I finished 'The Pillars of the Earth', which was great. I've always been a bit of a Ken Follett fan, but this 1000+ page epic in tiny print was a long haul. And before I tackle the 1000+ page sequel 'World Without End', it's nice to attack a shorter tale and take a bit of a breather.

The other reading I've been getting into is genuine Japanese manga - pretty cool once you're accustomed to the right-to-left comic style. I can't help but feel that like anime, manga is a new world I should have discovered long ago. Oh well...

Chasing 'World Without End', I'm hoping to mix things up with a bit of fantasy or sci-fi, but you just never know. The library is an amazing place...

A Month and A Year

I have been away from work for a month now and it feels like a year.

You never realise how much work fills your day, until it doesn't. And then, difficult as it may be to believe, you suddenly have too much time on your hands. Particularly in my case, when a scary proportion of my friends seem to have jumped on the parenting bandwagon and have recently popped or are at the point of popping in the very near future.

So given my slightly stir-crazed mind, I have to be forgiven for doing some strange things. Like yesterday, I had a big outing to the shops. (By 'big outing', I mean I went to Coles). I was rummaging round the aisles when I came to the make-up section and, now having long nails (again, thanks to leaving work and its associated stresses), I thought I deserved some new polish. The options were clear, pale pink or ruby red.

In a moment of slow-mo weakness, I reached for the ruby red and put it in my trolley. "What a vamp," I thought. "If I wore lipstick, I could look like a real girl with this new ruby red polish," I muttered.

And so, as soon as I got home (but just after I did the clothes washing, dish washing, washed the dog and cleaned the bathroom), I released the polish spirit upon my hands...

... and discovered that I'm not very good at painting my nails. In fact, it was more like finger-painting, given the disproportionate amount that ended up on my nails' surrounds, as opposed to my actual nails. Which would be fine if it was clear, but which is not so hot in ruby red.

Aaanyway, needless to say, I'm not sure how long it will take for me to revert to the safety of clear polish, but I daresay it shan't be long.

It. Is. Done.

Officially. It is done. We have purchased the mighty Age of Conan and my social life has ended.

Despite being overawed by the amount of bugs in this new release, I still can't seem to drag myself away from its stunning landscapes and decapitating goodness. (Though I must admit, the wenches have been a little disappointing).

And so, if you notice my blogging is a little lack-lustre these days, you now know why...

My Avatar Brings All the Boys to the Yard

Drop that taco and hold everything. For rumour has it that there is a new, multi-online-player thingy that is going to BLOW YOUR MIND. That's right. Blow it right out of your TINY LITTLE SKULL.

And its name?

AGE OF COOOONAAAAAN! (expressed a la Captain Caveman stylings)...
Or 'AoC' to all you sweet l33t speakers...
Or "Wench Tycoon" for all those who can't talk about one PC game without referring to another.

I'm not sure what the goal of the game is. Who the characters are. Or what the many laborious quests may involve. But, fear not, for more importantly, I have been reliably informed that you can make CHICK CHARACTERS. Which is fully excellent. Particularly as I find character creation to be the most fun part of most of these games. And with CHICK CHARACTERS available, you know all the boys gonna be brung to the yard. (Even if those boys are oddly playing CHICK CHARACTERS themselves. Pervs.)

Aaaanyway, I cannot cannot cannot wait to check out the smooth moves of this new release when Jesse and I crash Jim's place on Monday.

Woot for the long weekend! Woot for Jim! And woot for the wenches!

MCU "Milky Cows United"

It dawned on me at brekky this morning, that soy milk is the devil's juice.

It's been a while since I had a good ol' purge about the many wrong things in this big wide world. And if ever there was a worthy candidate to get back on that wagon, it's soy milk.

First, I can't believe it can legally be classified as 'milk'. The Fresians of the world must be rolling their boogly brown eyes in disgust. Yes, arguably, it's as valid a member of the 'milk' family as, say, coconut milk. But you wouldn't put coconut milk on your granola, would you?

No, you wouldn't.

The last time I tried soy was when work had shamefully run out of milk and my caffeine status was dire. Even then, I took one mouthful and splurted it all over my monitor and surrounding suburbs.

And really, if you think about it, how good is juice from a bean ever going to be? Nobody's plucking the innards out of baked beans, squeezing them through a wet tea towel, and chipperly stirring the extract into their morning beverage. And I should know. 'Cause some of my friends are pretty weird.

"But, it just has a bit of a nutty flavour," they proclaim.

Nutty alright.

No. Just no already. I say, it's time to stop hugging the trees and start showing soy milk the big fat hand. Who's with me?

There's Always a Catch

There is one major problem with coming back to blogging after six months. And that is that nobody knows you've come to back to blogging.

And it makes me wonder...

Who am I addressing right now? Myself? A couple of friends with aggregators? Or just that weird dude from Brazil who can't stop accessing my page thanks to that Antonio pic I put up a while ago?

And it's a real shame that Microsoft didn't develop a huge neon light that bursts out of people's monitors when you've jumped back on the blogging horse. Because, truthfully, it's quite embarrassing to have to plug your own blog. Particularly one as lame and ramshackle as this one. It's like:

"Hey, guess what. I'm back on my blog again."
"You have a blog?"
"Yeah, sure, don't you remember all those posts that used to put a little sunshine in your lunchtime?"
"Errr, not really."
"Well, aaanyway, I'm back on it. Even posted about mascara this morning. You should totally check it out. It's the only blog that Afe reads. And you know how cool Afe is."

From that point I usually obtain the obligatory, "Sure, yeah, I'll check it out when I have some free time. Like after I restump the house and shave my chickens."

And at that point, basking in the realisation that I have enlightened them of the might of my blog, I revert back to our conversation about backpacks with too many zips. Which is wonderful and interesting....


... but which still doesn't shake off the dirty feeling that I've sold my soul and dignity for just a few more page clicks.

That's Hot

What the pumpkins is going on in the make-up world?

I'm sure I recall a time when life was simple and each make-up brand just had one of everything. One mascara. One foundation. And a limited range of eye shadows and blushes.

I'm not a huge fan of mascara. Hence, it's quite irregularly that I traipse to the shops in search of a new one.

But OMG! There is no end to the range of gooey black goop you can currently dress your lashes in. Volumising. Separating. Defining. Smudgeproof. Waterproof. Idiotproof.

At the moment, I think I'm using the Lashomatic 4000 - "The fully lashiest of lashtastic mascaras with lashes of smudgeproof definition to make your volumised lashes 100% idiotproof."*

Or some such.



* Representations may be simulated. Actually guaranteed to produce panda eyes, to sting like hell when it runs, and make you look like a complete plonker (if not an idiot).

You Know You Want It

I hate Big Brother.

Wherever I may go. Whomever I may meet. Whenever the subject of Big Brother comes up. There is just one thing I hear - "I hate Big Brother".

This statement is usually followed by the typical comments, "It's stupid", "What's good about watching a bunch of nobodies doing nothing" and "I canNOT believe that one of those morons wins a million bucks or whatever".

Well, methinks the general public protesteth too mucheth.

SOMEONE is watching Big Brother. Some people even pay money to be in Big Brother's live audience. (Although they may just be Dreamworld staff on late shift).

It is fascinating to me that people are ashamed of things like this.

The same deal applies to music. I know SO MANY people who take unwarranted pride in their musical taste. They only like Aussie rock. They only like Swedish troubadour ballads.

I know we all want to be unique and special. (Hence my endless and unrequited desire for an eyebrow ring). But personally, I am a complete slurry when it comes to music. The only styles I am really opposed to are heavy metal and disco (which make me feel physically sick, so it's not really a personal choice). Other than that, it's all good.

I mean honestly. What's a party without some toe-tapping Brit-pop? Some pity-party US soft rock? The macarena???

The world is an amazing place. Don't be so cool that you miss it.

The Haps

Ah, how the cycle of life turns, and I found myself back in the blogosphere.

My poor, neglected blog was in the throes of its melodramatic death spasms, when here I am again, giving it a shake and ruffling its feathers.

If only, if only, I had something riveting to report - "I've created a perpetual motion machine (no really)". "I've adopted Madonna's baby". "I've dyed my hair blue". But alas, it's not to be. Truly though, there was, at least, a chance that the third statement may have come to pass. Currently enjoying the freedom of not holding down a seriously conservative job, the thought of azure hair was strongly leaning on me. This was my one chance to throw myself out there. (At least until retirement, of course, when I can fully lavender myself up to the hilt).

Sure, I had some misgivings. Like, what if my hair doesn't match anything? It's hard enough to match tops and bottoms, let alone adding a third degree of difficulty. And what if it faded and just looked like a terrible highlighter tragedy? Certainly, there were some practical concerns that I needed to consider.

But, ooh, the temptation. The appeal of having hair that just stuck it to society and said, "Sure, you may be cool. But I have blue hair. So, like, meh". The ability to walk into West End and not feel like a foreigner. The ability to listen to Britney and still retain edginess (sort of).

So I rang my hairdresser. I locked in the appointment. And I braced myself for the new, blue and improved Ali.

With barely-concealed excitement I revealed to my uber-grungy hairdresser my reckless intentions. He listened intently. He nodded with understanding...

And then he told me that if I wanted something different, maybe we could "do a nice blonde".



And so, I now have a nice blonde.

Look out world.

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!