spring: on the wisteria vine and the persimmon tree, green velveteen buds have appeared, and I know that sometime in the next two weeks, they will burst out into leaves.
it's raining, but the sun is strong enough to give the air a yellowish glow.
the white lilies that line the curve of the front path protude a liy head-height above the giant lily leaves. they have Art Deco curves, trailing off into an invisible line that points to the sun.
Saturday, August 25, 2001
Friday, August 24, 2001
defining moment # 1:
visiting Heather and Richard and the beautiful 4-day-old Rosie last night. I came out of the hospital glowing and warm and frankly wanting one of my own.
they will be the BEST parents.
defining moment # 2:
getting my motorcycle jacket out of the cupboard and finding mildew all over the collar and back. I've had that jacket for 10 years. so what if I'm scared of the bigger bike. the sun is shining, the wind is blowing and dammit, I'm feeling restless.
ps: yes, I realise these two d.m.'s are mutually incompatible. so?
visiting Heather and Richard and the beautiful 4-day-old Rosie last night. I came out of the hospital glowing and warm and frankly wanting one of my own.
they will be the BEST parents.
defining moment # 2:
getting my motorcycle jacket out of the cupboard and finding mildew all over the collar and back. I've had that jacket for 10 years. so what if I'm scared of the bigger bike. the sun is shining, the wind is blowing and dammit, I'm feeling restless.
ps: yes, I realise these two d.m.'s are mutually incompatible. so?
Thursday, August 23, 2001
I am talking to a vacuum. blogger is down and my post will post, but not publish.
in two days, I have filled 1/2 an A4 notebook with work notes.
and I wonder why my work gives me headaches and leaves me tired.
and worse: I have to do my tax tonight... help, somebody save a poor strugglin' gal from the evil ATO
in two days, I have filled 1/2 an A4 notebook with work notes.
and I wonder why my work gives me headaches and leaves me tired.
and worse: I have to do my tax tonight... help, somebody save a poor strugglin' gal from the evil ATO
Tuesday, August 21, 2001
Thursday, August 16, 2001
The dot-com era didn't really end for me until last Thursday.
That was the day I sat down at my home PC after work, in the mood for a good argument, a little online discussion, some virtual interaction with real people. I tried to log on to Salon's Table Talk forums.
I couldn't.
Sometime in the last month, while I wasn't looking, Table Talk had become a "member-supported" community; a nice euphemism for "no pay, no play."
So after almost exactly four years of membership, I was shut out. I could no longer post irrelevant word associations on the One Word Thread, dream of New Orleans summers in La Nouvelle Orleans, or poke fun at the Yanks from the safety of one of various threads for Australian members.
I know that in Silicon Valley, spoiled dot-commer's complaints about the withdrawal of "free stuff" have been mocked by those who see it as less than a tragedy that young men and women now have to go and buy their own T-shirts, or pick up the phone to order pizzas.
And lately, I've been an infrequenter poster on Table Talk, distracted by new toys like my blog (Web log).
So whether I'm entitled to wax nostalgic about (no doubt wasted) hours playing "Continue The Story" creative games and indulging in mutual commiserating over trashed relationships with complete strangers is arguable. But to be suddenly locked out of a favourite forum like that still feels wrong.
Most of all, it's made me realise that what we thought was ours never really was. Salon - who have valiantly tried to keep going as a quality publication and no doubt have good reasons for what they're doing - owned us and our words and ideas all along.
And if you check the terms and conditions of your own favourite forum or free publishing service, like Geocities, you will probably find that they own yours too. An honourable exception are the free Web log services, who seem to see their role as facilitators a little differently.
Salon has, so far, left the forums open to public readership. The threads I looked at were filled with discussion of the should-I-stay-or-should-I-go variety, and the odd wail about the cost of membership - US$9.50 a month, soon to be US$15. In Imagination, where silly ideas and brilliant writing were the order of the day in 1997, one thread plaintively asked "Is There Anybody Out There?".
The consensus was that Table Talk was dying, a wasteland of diehards who would not stay once they realised that most of their buddies had gone.
I'll admit to being a Web cheapskate - my first-ever search string was "free software", and although I've paid for URLs, I've always found the cheapest possible way to get stuff published.
But I won't be paying to be part of a community. Friendship is just one of those things that you should get for free, or not at all.
That was the day I sat down at my home PC after work, in the mood for a good argument, a little online discussion, some virtual interaction with real people. I tried to log on to Salon's Table Talk forums.
I couldn't.
Sometime in the last month, while I wasn't looking, Table Talk had become a "member-supported" community; a nice euphemism for "no pay, no play."
So after almost exactly four years of membership, I was shut out. I could no longer post irrelevant word associations on the One Word Thread, dream of New Orleans summers in La Nouvelle Orleans, or poke fun at the Yanks from the safety of one of various threads for Australian members.
I know that in Silicon Valley, spoiled dot-commer's complaints about the withdrawal of "free stuff" have been mocked by those who see it as less than a tragedy that young men and women now have to go and buy their own T-shirts, or pick up the phone to order pizzas.
And lately, I've been an infrequenter poster on Table Talk, distracted by new toys like my blog (Web log).
So whether I'm entitled to wax nostalgic about (no doubt wasted) hours playing "Continue The Story" creative games and indulging in mutual commiserating over trashed relationships with complete strangers is arguable. But to be suddenly locked out of a favourite forum like that still feels wrong.
Most of all, it's made me realise that what we thought was ours never really was. Salon - who have valiantly tried to keep going as a quality publication and no doubt have good reasons for what they're doing - owned us and our words and ideas all along.
And if you check the terms and conditions of your own favourite forum or free publishing service, like Geocities, you will probably find that they own yours too. An honourable exception are the free Web log services, who seem to see their role as facilitators a little differently.
Salon has, so far, left the forums open to public readership. The threads I looked at were filled with discussion of the should-I-stay-or-should-I-go variety, and the odd wail about the cost of membership - US$9.50 a month, soon to be US$15. In Imagination, where silly ideas and brilliant writing were the order of the day in 1997, one thread plaintively asked "Is There Anybody Out There?".
The consensus was that Table Talk was dying, a wasteland of diehards who would not stay once they realised that most of their buddies had gone.
I'll admit to being a Web cheapskate - my first-ever search string was "free software", and although I've paid for URLs, I've always found the cheapest possible way to get stuff published.
But I won't be paying to be part of a community. Friendship is just one of those things that you should get for free, or not at all.
Wednesday, August 15, 2001
my official "go-away" to all telemarketers, cold-callers, junk-mailers and banks at Junkbusters
it's getting there, as far as a personal profile on the Web goes. I wonder if I can refer all spammers etc to it? but how?
it's getting there, as far as a personal profile on the Web goes. I wonder if I can refer all spammers etc to it? but how?
this is of no interest to you, it's just a young Australian geek I plan to come back and read more about: black ice media
This, otoh, is a site promising eternal life
This, otoh, is a site promising eternal life
what a good idea: spambait,, a series of pages that clog up the spam spiders.
did I mention I've been getting 15-20 spams A DAY at my Hotmail address since I put this blog up?
did I mention I've been getting 15-20 spams A DAY at my Hotmail address since I put this blog up?
oh McJim, you've done it again!
I believe this product may be real. they have a patent pending 'n'all.
I believe this product may be real. they have a patent pending 'n'all.
I have converted my dog - a perfectly good Keeshond (think big Pekinese) into a poodle.
I have done this by means of a skin-tight tank top that flattens all the fur on his middle bit, leaving a plume-like tail and a huge main separated by a sleek sausage.
I'm a bit ill tonight; just doing whatever comes into my head.
I have done this by means of a skin-tight tank top that flattens all the fur on his middle bit, leaving a plume-like tail and a huge main separated by a sleek sausage.
I'm a bit ill tonight; just doing whatever comes into my head.
Monday, August 13, 2001
Saturday, August 11, 2001
I'm starting to like Ruth, in a perverse kind of way:
"I grew up with the philosophy that you do not leave your bedroom unless you are properly attired and to leave your home looking anything but your best was considered a crime against humanity."
you go, girl! today, white shoes in winter; tomorrow, Milosevc!
I think you'd have to start with the hair. It's very Eraserhead.
Sucky Way to Die has accepted my nomination of Christopher Skase as a person who died in a sucky way (natch).
can I just say that it's sucky, too, that all the people who were pursuing him for the money he ripped off from ordinary tradespeople and other creditors to finance his family's nice life in Majorca, stopped maligning him just because he's dead?
I mean, I know there's no point now, and his family's upset and all that, but he was a thief and stayed one. The suckiest thing about his death, I think, is that he appeared to still be in denial about having done wrong. Like John Howard, he never apologised, and unlike Alan Bond, he never faced a court and did his time.
not that I really care.
can I just say that it's sucky, too, that all the people who were pursuing him for the money he ripped off from ordinary tradespeople and other creditors to finance his family's nice life in Majorca, stopped maligning him just because he's dead?
I mean, I know there's no point now, and his family's upset and all that, but he was a thief and stayed one. The suckiest thing about his death, I think, is that he appeared to still be in denial about having done wrong. Like John Howard, he never apologised, and unlike Alan Bond, he never faced a court and did his time.
not that I really care.
I really shouldn't poke fun at other people's foibles - after all, I was looking for "black tie" dress codes because I am anxious about what to wear to the HUGE wedding tomorrow - but could one deprive one's loyal readers of Modern Etiquette.com?
This particular page features the author, Ruth, in a fur muff of her own design on the page devoted to "Ladies Who Lunch."
Quite.
This particular page features the author, Ruth, in a fur muff of her own design on the page devoted to "Ladies Who Lunch."
Quite.
Thursday, August 09, 2001
I could set up a really strange referral loop with Jim
the academics folded, btw. on both my creative arts subject and the last-minute problem they found; apparently I'd been doing all "second year" subjects and was supposed to call some of them "third year" to complete my degree. all exactly the same subjects, of course.
when the course advisor suggested this morning that I should just do more subjects (this is after SIX YEARS) I looked at her and said "I don't think I have the financial or the emotional commitment."
the tireder I get, the weirder the things I say. last weekend in the great bathroom fittings shopping disaster, I used the word "concept" to describe a tap. on the way home, I told Andrew I really wasn't enough of a yuppie for him. but he loves me anyway.
the academics folded, btw. on both my creative arts subject and the last-minute problem they found; apparently I'd been doing all "second year" subjects and was supposed to call some of them "third year" to complete my degree. all exactly the same subjects, of course.
when the course advisor suggested this morning that I should just do more subjects (this is after SIX YEARS) I looked at her and said "I don't think I have the financial or the emotional commitment."
the tireder I get, the weirder the things I say. last weekend in the great bathroom fittings shopping disaster, I used the word "concept" to describe a tap. on the way home, I told Andrew I really wasn't enough of a yuppie for him. but he loves me anyway.
usually, if I've had an extra hard day at work, I'll come home and after a while have a bath and a dhinandtonik. but not tonight. no, tonight, the jynnantonyk has to be NOW!
I think it was the addition of a story for the news section that turned the slight ache in my neck into a full-blown cervical headache
I've probably had it coming for a while, what with my being down the slack end of the scale. but why'd it have to happen so FAST?
and on top of that, various administrative nightmares at uni, I've lost the key to my bike, the neighbours' flats appeal is creating work, my friends and rellies all want their kids babysat, and Andrew hasn't been home from work before 9.30 pm, usually midnight, and won't be tonight either.
no wonder I only work a four-day week. apparently the cure for these headaches is relaxation. hah!
maybe if I filled the bath with gin'n't'n'c?
(if you're wondering why I can't spell Gin and Tonic, you need a Guide)
I think it was the addition of a story for the news section that turned the slight ache in my neck into a full-blown cervical headache
I've probably had it coming for a while, what with my being down the slack end of the scale. but why'd it have to happen so FAST?
and on top of that, various administrative nightmares at uni, I've lost the key to my bike, the neighbours' flats appeal is creating work, my friends and rellies all want their kids babysat, and Andrew hasn't been home from work before 9.30 pm, usually midnight, and won't be tonight either.
no wonder I only work a four-day week. apparently the cure for these headaches is relaxation. hah!
maybe if I filled the bath with gin'n't'n'c?
(if you're wondering why I can't spell Gin and Tonic, you need a Guide)
Monday, August 06, 2001
I've had two cups of good Italian coffee this morning and am typing MUCH faster than usual.
Read about coffee (in the US only, maybe I'll offer them some reviews) at caffmag
Read about coffee (in the US only, maybe I'll offer them some reviews) at caffmag
there are some amusing words on the Echelon keyword list
this one finishes at "Middle" (Middle Earth? Middle Age? whatever can they mean?) but before that are the words "fangs", "furby", "Scully" and "dictionary." And you'd think the word "explicit" alone would jam their servers, wouldn't you?
the words "mailbomb" and "computerTerrorism" are, of course, in every good computer terrorists' emails. not.
and "froglegs"? FROGLEGS!?! huh? non comprende
this one finishes at "Middle" (Middle Earth? Middle Age? whatever can they mean?) but before that are the words "fangs", "furby", "Scully" and "dictionary." And you'd think the word "explicit" alone would jam their servers, wouldn't you?
the words "mailbomb" and "computerTerrorism" are, of course, in every good computer terrorists' emails. not.
and "froglegs"? FROGLEGS!?! huh? non comprende
Stolen from Jim: revenge on those annoying academics; the truth about how they make up subject titles.
yes, I know they haven't done anything to me yet. but they will, they will
yes, I know they haven't done anything to me yet. but they will, they will
I think Jim is probably a really nice guy. And if I ever get back to Wales, I will track him down and take him to the pub.
this is because I have laughed out loud no less than four times while reading his blog.
this is because I have laughed out loud no less than four times while reading his blog.
Sunday, August 05, 2001
ho hum. here we go again. another administrative battle, this time with the University of Melbourne
seems Arts students aren't allowed to do creative arts subjects (in this case my coveted biographies/writing subject). And I've bought the reader and everything!
don't know if I can be bothered going back to the doubtless very fine Shakespeare subject that is the alternative. but if I don't, I'll be one of those people who is one subject short of a degree, so to speak. $329, it would cost. enough to do a semester of Spanish for the trip back to Spain I'll probably never make.
option C is to fight the ruling, blah blah blah. it's too late to do the subject as a "community access" person, even.
why do I have a feeling this will end up in some tribunal or other?
but given that I originally started my Arts degree in order to transfer into Law, and given that they then changed the rules so I had to do heaps of arts subjects before transferring, then lost interest in law and decided to just do my B.Litt, I'm inclined to stand my ground this time.
stupid rules.
seems Arts students aren't allowed to do creative arts subjects (in this case my coveted biographies/writing subject). And I've bought the reader and everything!
don't know if I can be bothered going back to the doubtless very fine Shakespeare subject that is the alternative. but if I don't, I'll be one of those people who is one subject short of a degree, so to speak. $329, it would cost. enough to do a semester of Spanish for the trip back to Spain I'll probably never make.
option C is to fight the ruling, blah blah blah. it's too late to do the subject as a "community access" person, even.
why do I have a feeling this will end up in some tribunal or other?
but given that I originally started my Arts degree in order to transfer into Law, and given that they then changed the rules so I had to do heaps of arts subjects before transferring, then lost interest in law and decided to just do my B.Litt, I'm inclined to stand my ground this time.
stupid rules.
I have decided I want to buy an Emily Kngwarreye painting. I will have to remortgage my flat to do so, or convince Andrew that it's a good idea. but I really want one.
a) she was a genius and they are really beautiful works and
b) I fully expect that they will be worth more as the years go on. we're talking Picasso, Monet, Rothko-level art here. It's funny, because I have always been very suspicious of the Aboriginal art industry - it can be deceptive, shallow and exploitative. but when I went to her retrospective at the National Gallery of Victoria a couple of years back, it blew me away.
a) she was a genius and they are really beautiful works and
b) I fully expect that they will be worth more as the years go on. we're talking Picasso, Monet, Rothko-level art here. It's funny, because I have always been very suspicious of the Aboriginal art industry - it can be deceptive, shallow and exploitative. but when I went to her retrospective at the National Gallery of Victoria a couple of years back, it blew me away.
eh. sometimes I just sit down to blog without having much to say. maybe because it's Monday morning and I'm procrastinating the whole shower/ride/behave like a work person thing.
so I'll just put up a link to a teenage stream-of-consciousness blog with less than the usual level of banality and some intriguing (verbal) images scattered through it.
so I'll just put up a link to a teenage stream-of-consciousness blog with less than the usual level of banality and some intriguing (verbal) images scattered through it.
Saturday, August 04, 2001
I have a new blog for my new uni subject at the rather pretentiously named Internet Flaneur
it's all about writing, journals, biography, identity, real life as it appears in fiction. I think.
it's all about writing, journals, biography, identity, real life as it appears in fiction. I think.
Wednesday, August 01, 2001
I find it hard to believe that an index of popular links from 9,000 blogs could only find four new links in common.
usually when something is hot, it pops up EVERYWHERE for a few days; think Kaycee Nicole.
but this is worth a look; and I might submit my blog to get the backlink traffic ...
Tuesday, July 31, 2001
have discovered the answer to the question: am I brave or not?
we pulled over to check the map on our way back up to Perth. after about five minutes debated highway numbers, we noticed that a large building about 50 metres away from us was on fire. not a bit on fire, totally burning up; flames leaping out the windows, that kind of thing.
what did I do? did I grab the camera, leap out and take photos? did I even note the numberplate of the car that was stopped in front of us?
No, I said to Andrew "go. now. let's get out of here."
it was a fairly industrial area and I guess I was afraid of exploding chemical tanks.
the ensuing conversation with the 000 operator as I tried to explain where the fire was was nothing short of farcical. the tape, when reviewed by investigators, will include lots of me saying to Andrew as we sped away: "what does that sign say?" "where are we".
we pulled over to check the map on our way back up to Perth. after about five minutes debated highway numbers, we noticed that a large building about 50 metres away from us was on fire. not a bit on fire, totally burning up; flames leaping out the windows, that kind of thing.
what did I do? did I grab the camera, leap out and take photos? did I even note the numberplate of the car that was stopped in front of us?
No, I said to Andrew "go. now. let's get out of here."
it was a fairly industrial area and I guess I was afraid of exploding chemical tanks.
the ensuing conversation with the 000 operator as I tried to explain where the fire was was nothing short of farcical. the tape, when reviewed by investigators, will include lots of me saying to Andrew as we sped away: "what does that sign say?" "where are we".
on returning from our four days of idyllic blobbing about in Perth and Margaret River, I have made an important discovery: there is simply not enough time.
no, really. there is not enough time to do all those things on your to-do list, not to mention the sundry distractions and interruptions.
furthermore, life will not, eventually, be all sorted out, neatly filed, with all those jobs finished (the dog perfectly brushed, the fence replacement organised, the garden weeded, Christmas shopping done in advance, novel written, blog restyled).
never.
so get used to it. and get nasty about that time. `cause there's not enough.
no, really. there is not enough time to do all those things on your to-do list, not to mention the sundry distractions and interruptions.
furthermore, life will not, eventually, be all sorted out, neatly filed, with all those jobs finished (the dog perfectly brushed, the fence replacement organised, the garden weeded, Christmas shopping done in advance, novel written, blog restyled).
never.
so get used to it. and get nasty about that time. `cause there's not enough.
Monday, July 30, 2001
I'm BAAAACK!
I can't say I missed blogging, given as how I was strolling around art galleries. stuffing my face with Western Australia's best food, walking on winter beaches at dawn and dusk and snapping up large amounts of yummy wine and one beautiful piece of art glass.
But it's nice to be here @ home, with five days' washing sloshing away in the laundry, the dog sulking in the hall and a class or two to start this afternoon.
I said to Andrew: "smack me". because both Shakespeare's Worlds and Autobiography (the study of) appeal to me enormously, and I'm thinking of doing both, which is more than I need to finish my degree. would post links, but every browser other than this one refuses to give me an address bar, so I can't go find it.
Have received a lovely yellow Australian Census form, and oh, exciting; a couple of hours after I got in this morning (a 1.20 am flight has left me with jet lag of the two-hour-time-difference-and-no-sleep variety) Stan rang.
Stan is Gavin's dad.
For those who came in late, Gavin is the skip man who made me cry with his horridness.
Stan was VERY pleasant and reasonable. It's his company, you see. he is going to pay me the $50 for the rubbish removal, make sure the City of Yarra get the fee Gavin didn't pay (but I paid Gavin for), and in return I am withdrawing my case at the tribunal.
one feels quietly vindicated. one jumps up and punches the air.
one needs a small nap before class.
I can't say I missed blogging, given as how I was strolling around art galleries. stuffing my face with Western Australia's best food, walking on winter beaches at dawn and dusk and snapping up large amounts of yummy wine and one beautiful piece of art glass.
But it's nice to be here @ home, with five days' washing sloshing away in the laundry, the dog sulking in the hall and a class or two to start this afternoon.
I said to Andrew: "smack me". because both Shakespeare's Worlds and Autobiography (the study of) appeal to me enormously, and I'm thinking of doing both, which is more than I need to finish my degree. would post links, but every browser other than this one refuses to give me an address bar, so I can't go find it.
Have received a lovely yellow Australian Census form, and oh, exciting; a couple of hours after I got in this morning (a 1.20 am flight has left me with jet lag of the two-hour-time-difference-and-no-sleep variety) Stan rang.
Stan is Gavin's dad.
For those who came in late, Gavin is the skip man who made me cry with his horridness.
Stan was VERY pleasant and reasonable. It's his company, you see. he is going to pay me the $50 for the rubbish removal, make sure the City of Yarra get the fee Gavin didn't pay (but I paid Gavin for), and in return I am withdrawing my case at the tribunal.
one feels quietly vindicated. one jumps up and punches the air.
one needs a small nap before class.
Wednesday, July 25, 2001
this is what my friend Graham sent off to Dubya. I might spam a few people, see if I can get it going. feel free to take and send on.
Dear all,
In my disgust at the US attitude to the Kyoto agreement (they are
actually
delighted that the rest of the World has ratified it because it will
make
American exports more competitive!), I've sent the email below to the
Presidents Office.
If you agree, and send him an email yourself, and pass this message on
to
everybody in your mail box, you never know.... it just might make a
difference!
Regards,
Graham
-----Original Message-----
From: John Chadwick
To: president@whitehouse.gov
Date: 25 July 2001 08:45
Subject: The World is My Sweatshop
>Mr Bush,
>
>In response to your decision to sacrifice the future wellbeing of the
World
>for your own short term greed, my family and I have chosen to stop
>purchasing American products.
>
>When enough people react this way you may see the flaw in your
argument.
>
>Graham Chadwick
>
>
Dear all,
In my disgust at the US attitude to the Kyoto agreement (they are
actually
delighted that the rest of the World has ratified it because it will
make
American exports more competitive!), I've sent the email below to the
Presidents Office.
If you agree, and send him an email yourself, and pass this message on
to
everybody in your mail box, you never know.... it just might make a
difference!
Regards,
Graham
-----Original Message-----
From: John Chadwick
To: president@whitehouse.gov
Date: 25 July 2001 08:45
Subject: The World is My Sweatshop
>Mr Bush,
>
>In response to your decision to sacrifice the future wellbeing of the
World
>for your own short term greed, my family and I have chosen to stop
>purchasing American products.
>
>When enough people react this way you may see the flaw in your
argument.
>
>Graham Chadwick
>
>
Monday, July 23, 2001
story idea: a nothing restaurant or bar, down a side street, smelling of stale oil and cigarettes.
the mafia or a bikie gang walk in one day, say "this will be our place".
what do you, the owner, do?
it means money, customers, big tips.
crimes being planned under your roof, over plates of your ravioli
the mafia or a bikie gang walk in one day, say "this will be our place".
what do you, the owner, do?
it means money, customers, big tips.
crimes being planned under your roof, over plates of your ravioli
I caught the tram around to Flinder St this afternoon, just to get out of the office; it's lovely out there, cold and blue.
there was a police motorbike and an ambulance blocking traffic; a stopped bus.
at first I couldn't see what was happening. Then, alone on the ground, a white sheet over a body.
it was the freshness of the blood running away from the body that made me turn my head away.
there was a police motorbike and an ambulance blocking traffic; a stopped bus.
at first I couldn't see what was happening. Then, alone on the ground, a white sheet over a body.
it was the freshness of the blood running away from the body that made me turn my head away.
from my friend, who is slowly going mad as an expat wife in a mining town in Papua New Guinea:
To amuse myself...
PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION FOR POTENTIAL OTML DEPENDENTS
When invited to a ladies’ luncheon, do you:
A: Throw on your thongs and grab a packet of Shortbread Fingers from
the back of the cupboard?
B: Wash down a couple of valiums with the duty free scotch and whip up
a sponge?
C: Fall to the ground laughing and say you wouldn’t be caught dead
going to a ladies’ luncheon if it was your last meal on earth?
If you see an attractive man in the superstore (the glamorous name for
our one shop), should you:
A: Lower your eyes demurely and walk on by?
B: Introduce yourself and casually drop the phrase ‘single status’ into
the conversation at every opportunity?
C: Rip off your dirty old T-shirt and shout, ‘Come and get it big boy!’
If you feel yourself on the verge of a nervous breakdown, should you:
A: Go to Mary’s (the American's) place for waffles?
B: Go to Cloudlands (the pub) and buy booze?
C: Go to Cloudlands and buy booze, then go to Mary’s place for waffles?
D: Spray painting the front of the Whitehouse with the words, ‘Roger
(the MD) go home.’
When you finally feel ready to leave (censored) after a rewarding and
exciting time, would you consider it important to:
A: Grab the children?
B: Grab the duty free and leave the kids?
C: Burn down the town?
To amuse myself...
PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION FOR POTENTIAL OTML DEPENDENTS
When invited to a ladies’ luncheon, do you:
A: Throw on your thongs and grab a packet of Shortbread Fingers from
the back of the cupboard?
B: Wash down a couple of valiums with the duty free scotch and whip up
a sponge?
C: Fall to the ground laughing and say you wouldn’t be caught dead
going to a ladies’ luncheon if it was your last meal on earth?
If you see an attractive man in the superstore (the glamorous name for
our one shop), should you:
A: Lower your eyes demurely and walk on by?
B: Introduce yourself and casually drop the phrase ‘single status’ into
the conversation at every opportunity?
C: Rip off your dirty old T-shirt and shout, ‘Come and get it big boy!’
If you feel yourself on the verge of a nervous breakdown, should you:
A: Go to Mary’s (the American's) place for waffles?
B: Go to Cloudlands (the pub) and buy booze?
C: Go to Cloudlands and buy booze, then go to Mary’s place for waffles?
D: Spray painting the front of the Whitehouse with the words, ‘Roger
(the MD) go home.’
When you finally feel ready to leave (censored) after a rewarding and
exciting time, would you consider it important to:
A: Grab the children?
B: Grab the duty free and leave the kids?
C: Burn down the town?
My newspaper failed to use this. So y'all can have it for free. It's a bit out of date.
This is a fan letter.
Last week, while the death of the singer Perry Como hogged newspaper headlines,
the passing-on of an equally great performer of the mind, Douglas Adams,
languished on the obituary pages and in briefs columns.
In cyberspace, Como's death made hardly a ripple, while over at
www.douglasadams.com, probably the world's first real cyber-wake was in full
swing. Messages of tribute poured in at the rate of more than one a minute,
sometimes one a second, for days on end.
If you're unaware of who Douglas Adams was (probably because you've just
popped onto Earth from a parallel universe identical to ours in all respects bar the
existence of humour), he was the author of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
He's the reason AltaVista's language translation service is called Babelfish, and the
reason the words "forty-two" said at the right time can drive the average geek into
gales of laughter.
The book, published in 1982, was based on a hit radio series, and spawned a
television series and several sequels.
Like any good sci-fi writer, Adams combined wild prediction with a veneer of
plausibility - in his world, things made sense, even if they didn't follow traditional
logic.
He imagined an improbability drive that sounded uncannily like a quantum
computer, an e-book that would put your Palm Pilot to shame (the Guideitself) and
artificial intelligences that sulked. His Earth was an irrelevant planet that was
demolished in the first chapter of his first book anyway; a sense of perspective was
one of his strong points.
But it was the wayhe wrote that made the difference and won him his legion of
fans. The email shorthand "LOL" (laugh out loud) could have been invented for
Adams' writing.
It's hard to choose just one from the tens of quotes that live in my mind after
reading the Guide five or six times and several readings of the rest of the four books
in the trilogy, (Adams wasn't very good at maths).
But this one comes close to summing up his style of an earnest setup and a
deflating punchline: "It is an important and popular fact that things are not always
what they seem. For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that
he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much -- the
wheel, New York, wars and so on -- whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck
about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always
believed that they were far more intelligent than man -- for precisely the same
reasons."
Adams, who by all reports was a hard man to get to finish a book ("I love deadlines.
I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."), did manage to publish several
other fiction works, and a moving book about threatened species, Last Chance to See.
In recent years he was involved in designing computer games based on his books.
His Meaning of Liff and Deeper Meaning of Liff found useful roles for all those good
words that hang about on town signposts doing not much, as well as giving names
to phenomena we all knew but couldn't label. (The British town of Kettering lent its
name to the pattern left on bare legs after sitting on a wicker chair, for instance.)
Adams was 49 when he suffered a heart attack on May 11, leaving behind a wife
and young daughter.
The tributes on his site range from devastated to would-be humourous, recycling
his jokes about stars "spending a year dead for tax reasons", towel jokes and the
ubiquitous "so long and thanks for all the fish".
But there's another, more appropriate, line, from Last Chance to See
Adams was
writing about why we should care about "rhinos, parakeets, kakopos and dolphins,
but it could serve as his own epitaph: "the world would be a poorer, darker, lonelier
place without them."
This is a fan letter.
Last week, while the death of the singer Perry Como hogged newspaper headlines,
the passing-on of an equally great performer of the mind, Douglas Adams,
languished on the obituary pages and in briefs columns.
In cyberspace, Como's death made hardly a ripple, while over at
www.douglasadams.com, probably the world's first real cyber-wake was in full
swing. Messages of tribute poured in at the rate of more than one a minute,
sometimes one a second, for days on end.
If you're unaware of who Douglas Adams was (probably because you've just
popped onto Earth from a parallel universe identical to ours in all respects bar the
existence of humour), he was the author of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
He's the reason AltaVista's language translation service is called Babelfish, and the
reason the words "forty-two" said at the right time can drive the average geek into
gales of laughter.
The book, published in 1982, was based on a hit radio series, and spawned a
television series and several sequels.
Like any good sci-fi writer, Adams combined wild prediction with a veneer of
plausibility - in his world, things made sense, even if they didn't follow traditional
logic.
He imagined an improbability drive that sounded uncannily like a quantum
computer, an e-book that would put your Palm Pilot to shame (the Guideitself) and
artificial intelligences that sulked. His Earth was an irrelevant planet that was
demolished in the first chapter of his first book anyway; a sense of perspective was
one of his strong points.
But it was the wayhe wrote that made the difference and won him his legion of
fans. The email shorthand "LOL" (laugh out loud) could have been invented for
Adams' writing.
It's hard to choose just one from the tens of quotes that live in my mind after
reading the Guide five or six times and several readings of the rest of the four books
in the trilogy, (Adams wasn't very good at maths).
But this one comes close to summing up his style of an earnest setup and a
deflating punchline: "It is an important and popular fact that things are not always
what they seem. For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that
he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much -- the
wheel, New York, wars and so on -- whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck
about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always
believed that they were far more intelligent than man -- for precisely the same
reasons."
Adams, who by all reports was a hard man to get to finish a book ("I love deadlines.
I love the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."), did manage to publish several
other fiction works, and a moving book about threatened species, Last Chance to See.
In recent years he was involved in designing computer games based on his books.
His Meaning of Liff and Deeper Meaning of Liff found useful roles for all those good
words that hang about on town signposts doing not much, as well as giving names
to phenomena we all knew but couldn't label. (The British town of Kettering lent its
name to the pattern left on bare legs after sitting on a wicker chair, for instance.)
Adams was 49 when he suffered a heart attack on May 11, leaving behind a wife
and young daughter.
The tributes on his site range from devastated to would-be humourous, recycling
his jokes about stars "spending a year dead for tax reasons", towel jokes and the
ubiquitous "so long and thanks for all the fish".
But there's another, more appropriate, line, from Last Chance to See
Adams was
writing about why we should care about "rhinos, parakeets, kakopos and dolphins,
but it could serve as his own epitaph: "the world would be a poorer, darker, lonelier
place without them."
yankspeak 101:
taxi = cab
lift=elevator
first floor = second floor
sauce = ketchup
holiday = vacation
autumn = fall (and fall may mean spring if you come from the southern hemisphere and they're talking "fall quarter" as in actual dates)
university = college
bitumen = blacktop
maths=math
24 by 7 = all the time
dollar= two dollars AU
taxi = cab
lift=elevator
first floor = second floor
sauce = ketchup
holiday = vacation
autumn = fall (and fall may mean spring if you come from the southern hemisphere and they're talking "fall quarter" as in actual dates)
university = college
bitumen = blacktop
maths=math
24 by 7 = all the time
dollar= two dollars AU
things that have been bothering me:
the photo of a G8 protestor dead on the ground, surrounded by paramilitary police
the photo The Age ran last weekend of a tram fare evader pinned to the ground by "inspectors" from the tram company.
some articles The Age also ran last week saying that privacy was seriously compromised by new databases, talking about new Australian privacy laws (sorry for the lack of links, maybe later), and saying that privacy was a sacred right in the West.
the phone calls I keep getting at dinnertime trying to sell me stuff "Hello, could I speak to Mrs Sinclair please?". No, you can't, 'cos I'm not "Mrs Sinclair".
A book I haven't read yet: Naomi Klein's No Logo
the more people get treated as commodities for the global machine, the more some of them - only some - resist with whatever means possible.
it's like the environmentalists - the really hardcore ones that sit up trees for years
for every overwhelming force there's a kind of immune-system reaction in which counter-forces arise. Humans make the planet sick, humans make society sick, and the planet and society fight back with a modified version of humans.
the photo of a G8 protestor dead on the ground, surrounded by paramilitary police
the photo The Age ran last weekend of a tram fare evader pinned to the ground by "inspectors" from the tram company.
some articles The Age also ran last week saying that privacy was seriously compromised by new databases, talking about new Australian privacy laws (sorry for the lack of links, maybe later), and saying that privacy was a sacred right in the West.
the phone calls I keep getting at dinnertime trying to sell me stuff "Hello, could I speak to Mrs Sinclair please?". No, you can't, 'cos I'm not "Mrs Sinclair".
A book I haven't read yet: Naomi Klein's No Logo
the more people get treated as commodities for the global machine, the more some of them - only some - resist with whatever means possible.
it's like the environmentalists - the really hardcore ones that sit up trees for years
for every overwhelming force there's a kind of immune-system reaction in which counter-forces arise. Humans make the planet sick, humans make society sick, and the planet and society fight back with a modified version of humans.
Wednesday, July 18, 2001
I think I'll rename this blog Angry Girl.
I'm at it again: the neighbour's horrible development got a permit last week. now we have to spend lots of time and money organising an appeal. and we will, a) because I can't stand the idea of that lovely tree being replaced by a two-storey block of flats and b) because the value of our house will probably drop $50,000 when there's a horrible building there. so a few hundred on application fees/professional town planners seems like a good investment.
oh, and the council did make them modify it. it's 10 cm away from the boundary now, and the first (second for Yanks) floor is now 150 cm in instead of 100. big effing deal.
Tuesday, July 17, 2001
oh, please! Blogger has dignified this New York Times article (you'll need to register: lie) with a pointer.
it finishes "No longer a worrisome curiosity, the Internet is simply another of the means by which people find out what in the world is going on."
"Dave Kansas, formerly editor in chief of TheStreet.com, is now traveling in Europe."
Dave may be a very clever, switched-on person. But this article is written for the we-don't-understand-the-Web people to make them feel like they do; like it's just like RL only on a computer. it's so NOT.
maybe Dave needed more quick $US for more cervazas.
I need to think about this more; it is "just another means" but Dave makes it sound like the medium ain't the message.
it finishes "No longer a worrisome curiosity, the Internet is simply another of the means by which people find out what in the world is going on."
"Dave Kansas, formerly editor in chief of TheStreet.com, is now traveling in Europe."
Dave may be a very clever, switched-on person. But this article is written for the we-don't-understand-the-Web people to make them feel like they do; like it's just like RL only on a computer. it's so NOT.
maybe Dave needed more quick $US for more cervazas.
I need to think about this more; it is "just another means" but Dave makes it sound like the medium ain't the message.
I love this: "thank you for giving us the opportunity to leave you in peace".
they always HAD that opportunity!
the spam in question was from VeriSign, btw, which I had thought was a reputable company that wanted people to trust it.
hello, VeriSign: spam does not make people like you. it even less makes people trust you.
address deleted: ** jennysinclair@hotmail.com
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to leave you in peace. You have
been removed from all of the PostMasterDirect.com lists and should
receive
no further mail from our service. There is the off chance an additional
email has been queued for you already, however the chance is slim.
If you have subscribed under a different email address, there is still
the chance you'll receive mail under that address. If so, just forward
any mail you receive to deleteall@postmasterdirect.com to unsubscribe
that address.
If you feel you have been removed in error, simply visit
http://www.postmasterdirect.com/sub to resubscribe!
Thank you for being with us!
PostMaster Direct http://www.postmasterdirect.com/
they always HAD that opportunity!
the spam in question was from VeriSign, btw, which I had thought was a reputable company that wanted people to trust it.
hello, VeriSign: spam does not make people like you. it even less makes people trust you.
address deleted: ** jennysinclair@hotmail.com
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to leave you in peace. You have
been removed from all of the PostMasterDirect.com lists and should
receive
no further mail from our service. There is the off chance an additional
email has been queued for you already, however the chance is slim.
If you have subscribed under a different email address, there is still
the chance you'll receive mail under that address. If so, just forward
any mail you receive to deleteall@postmasterdirect.com to unsubscribe
that address.
If you feel you have been removed in error, simply visit
http://www.postmasterdirect.com/sub to resubscribe!
Thank you for being with us!
PostMaster Direct http://www.postmasterdirect.com/
Monday, July 16, 2001
and when for no particular reason I fed this into zapper
"the quality of mercy is not strained.
it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
upon the place beneath.
it is twice blessed
it blesseth him that gives
and him that takes
tis mightiest in the mightiest.
its becomes the crowned monarch
better than his crown"
it gave me: a group against the death penalty
"the quality of mercy is not strained.
it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
upon the place beneath.
it is twice blessed
it blesseth him that gives
and him that takes
tis mightiest in the mightiest.
its becomes the crowned monarch
better than his crown"
it gave me: a group against the death penalty
what's the world coming to? A mad person shoots a security guard at a perfectly nice abortion clinic, and when people stop to help distressed motorists in the Northern Territory, they get shot at, tied up and generally terrified.
somehow there's a common thread here ...
somehow there's a common thread here ...
Sunday, July 15, 2001
hey, I got 91 for my cybersocieties subject at uni! of course I was being marked too high; I'm a 75-80 student these days, what with work and all. maybe I'll put up a link to my essay about how we all need a ratava-avatar link to combat identity theft and commercial prostitution and Big Brotherness of our very selves. when I get the essay online, yeah, I might do dat.
and this guy has an animated cube that solves itself before your very eyes! a kind of cubeblog, I think. He claims a record of 1:11. that's minutes:seconds, not hours:minutes or even days:hours. I have never got beyond two layers.
oh, and his site is weird. the page is black and all the action's in the popup window. check it out.
oh, and his site is weird. the page is black and all the action's in the popup window. check it out.
I have given in and watched Big Brother Australia, only a week before it finished. Sara-Marie, the big-bottomed bumdancing bunny-ear-wearing shrieking blonde, was such a phenomenon I had to see what happened. She got evicted, and went from the house where she's lived for seven weeks straight into a TV studio full of screaming teenage girls all dressed up as her. so of course she screamed too.
The host didn't handle it too well. she wanted order and attention, but got screaming. it was quite a TV moment, even for a non-TV person. or am I?
The host didn't handle it too well. she wanted order and attention, but got screaming. it was quite a TV moment, even for a non-TV person. or am I?
it had to happen. poetry. sorry.
I heard news of my old boat:
“sold” said the 6’2” sailor
in the silver minidress
and I thought of polished timbers
red wine and pasta
waking at night to creaking, slapping, groaning.
Dolphins off the starboard bow.
And I thought of other sailors.
I remembered a boat, half-finished,
a labour of love or stubbornness
in an immigrant’s back yard.
Dry dock. 200 metres from St Kilda pier
and how we never sailed her.
But Wise of Time
who took me to Tasmania
on a Bass Strait made of glass
is sold.
Who knows where?
And I tried not to think of that sailor
who took me there.
The boy in the Barbarella minidress
leaned over me in my tie and painted mustache
breathed beer
and said “you’re cute. But you’re too short for me”
and cackled like a crone.
So I went home.
To my husband.
To my dog.
To my warm bed.
Five kilometres from the coast.
Wise of Time.
I never did understand that name.
I heard news of my old boat:
“sold” said the 6’2” sailor
in the silver minidress
and I thought of polished timbers
red wine and pasta
waking at night to creaking, slapping, groaning.
Dolphins off the starboard bow.
And I thought of other sailors.
I remembered a boat, half-finished,
a labour of love or stubbornness
in an immigrant’s back yard.
Dry dock. 200 metres from St Kilda pier
and how we never sailed her.
But Wise of Time
who took me to Tasmania
on a Bass Strait made of glass
is sold.
Who knows where?
And I tried not to think of that sailor
who took me there.
The boy in the Barbarella minidress
leaned over me in my tie and painted mustache
breathed beer
and said “you’re cute. But you’re too short for me”
and cackled like a crone.
So I went home.
To my husband.
To my dog.
To my warm bed.
Five kilometres from the coast.
Wise of Time.
I never did understand that name.
Friday, July 13, 2001
am I sane?
|
Disorder |
Rating |
|
Paranoid: |
Low |
|
Schizoid: |
Low |
|
Schizotypal: |
Moderate |
|
Antisocial: |
Moderate |
|
Borderline: |
Low |
|
Histrionic: |
Moderate |
|
Narcissistic: |
Moderate |
|
Avoidant: |
Low |
|
Dependent: |
Low |
|
Obsessive-Compulsive: |
Moderate |
|
-- Click Here To Take The Test! -- | |
Wednesday, July 11, 2001
if I ever get like this, shoot me.
oh, I know she's a good person and probably a good mother and all that, but. but. but.
oh, I know she's a good person and probably a good mother and all that, but. but. but.
what I don't get about this is: if the wine was about US$45,000, and the total bill was $62,000, where did the other $23,000 go? that's one hell of a tip
hooray! we're going to Perth! Agenda: see Monets, drink ourselves silly on West Australian wines and watch the sun set from our country hotel balcony.
pity that on our frequent flyer points, Ansett will only give us a 12.05 AM flight home... never mind. in order to burn more points, we're going business class; plus my lounge membership expires the day after we get back, so we'll be quite swish really.
Monday, July 09, 2001
ripped off: Sony have released the new AIBO.
And what did they send me? a printed press release and a CD-ROM. Where's my free robot dog, guys?
And what did they send me? a printed press release and a CD-ROM. Where's my free robot dog, guys?
Friday, July 06, 2001
having just re-read my site description, I noticed that apart from references to Vegemite content, it promises "how to save the world".
for a start, how about saving the spotted quoll?
new environmental plans basically give it up for dead. there are still some left, dammit! how can we say "oh, there goes the largest mainland native mammal species. never mind" as if it DIDN'T MATTER??
I just don't get it sometimes.
for a start, how about saving the spotted quoll?
new environmental plans basically give it up for dead. there are still some left, dammit! how can we say "oh, there goes the largest mainland native mammal species. never mind" as if it DIDN'T MATTER??
I just don't get it sometimes.
better now.
one of the festering sores of Australian politics and Australia's identity is the lack of what therapists call "closure" on the way this land was taken from the indigenous people.
the current focus of this is the refusal of John Howard (our Prime Minister) to say "sorry" for what was done.
today's paper has an extract from overland magazine, outlining the massacres of the 19th century. it points out that the massacres were not official policy - they were a tactic of individuals, companies (farmers) and government officials.
which got me thinking that maybe an official apology is not the right thing. we need a dispersed sorry movement to match the dispersed outrages of the past. and in many cases, the not-so-distant past at that. it always annoys me when John Howard says present non-Aboriginal Australians are not responsible for what was done in the past, when as recently as the early 70s Aboriginal children were being removed from their mothers. is there no-one over 30 in this country?
one of the festering sores of Australian politics and Australia's identity is the lack of what therapists call "closure" on the way this land was taken from the indigenous people.
the current focus of this is the refusal of John Howard (our Prime Minister) to say "sorry" for what was done.
today's paper has an extract from overland magazine, outlining the massacres of the 19th century. it points out that the massacres were not official policy - they were a tactic of individuals, companies (farmers) and government officials.
which got me thinking that maybe an official apology is not the right thing. we need a dispersed sorry movement to match the dispersed outrages of the past. and in many cases, the not-so-distant past at that. it always annoys me when John Howard says present non-Aboriginal Australians are not responsible for what was done in the past, when as recently as the early 70s Aboriginal children were being removed from their mothers. is there no-one over 30 in this country?
Monday, July 02, 2001
at 10.30, I felt fine. at 11, I arrived at work feeling a bit chilled and bruised. by 12.15 I was walking back to my car with my teeth chattering.
the 24-hour-clinic doctor (my dear Ralphine wasn't in the office) said I have an upper respiratory tract infection. I am to take penicillin, stay warm and rest. so I'm only doing three interviews tomorrow.
I don't think it's legionella, although there's been a bit of that around lately, even at my work. Isn't it amazing that someone would dedicate a whole Web site, voluntarily and clearly in his own time, to a nasty respiratory disease?
So I am reading about Monet's garden in an overheated bedroom and watching the tree loppers cut back the beautiful trees outside our house and drop them on my car in order to protect cables owned by Optus and Telstra, which is ludicrous, because no one in this street uses their pay-TV rubbish, and Optus even denied to us that they had broadband internet available in our street, when we can clearly see their cables.
now we have ADSL from Pacific Internet, which is nice and fast and doesn't rely on separate ugly cables - although it does rely on Telstra's login servers or some such, which are useless part of the time.
I think I need some comfort food...eggs on toast, chicken noodle soup and jellybeans. I know I'm really sick when my body rejects caffeine.
the 24-hour-clinic doctor (my dear Ralphine wasn't in the office) said I have an upper respiratory tract infection. I am to take penicillin, stay warm and rest. so I'm only doing three interviews tomorrow.
I don't think it's legionella, although there's been a bit of that around lately, even at my work. Isn't it amazing that someone would dedicate a whole Web site, voluntarily and clearly in his own time, to a nasty respiratory disease?
So I am reading about Monet's garden in an overheated bedroom and watching the tree loppers cut back the beautiful trees outside our house and drop them on my car in order to protect cables owned by Optus and Telstra, which is ludicrous, because no one in this street uses their pay-TV rubbish, and Optus even denied to us that they had broadband internet available in our street, when we can clearly see their cables.
now we have ADSL from Pacific Internet, which is nice and fast and doesn't rely on separate ugly cables - although it does rely on Telstra's login servers or some such, which are useless part of the time.
I think I need some comfort food...eggs on toast, chicken noodle soup and jellybeans. I know I'm really sick when my body rejects caffeine.
Sunday, July 01, 2001
another thing there should be a word for: Web sites you find yourself at but have no idea how you got there. I'll call them Qualls.
this is one; a New Yorker writer who thinks. not that the others don't, oh God, I'll get myself in trouble, I think I'll just shut up.
this is one; a New Yorker writer who thinks. not that the others don't, oh God, I'll get myself in trouble, I think I'll just shut up.
Thursday, June 28, 2001
Wednesday, June 27, 2001
oh, and the "unbeknown to us" below? young Gavin is about to find out that I do exactly what I say I'll do, and I'd told him that I was going to do that.
I expect I have some repressed anger issues and if I was an American I'd be in therapy. But I'm an Australian, and I'll just take it out on someone; in this case, the richly deserving Gavin.
did I mention he was so rude to me on the phone that he actually made me cry? and like any good feminist, I can be my own white knight: "I'll beat him to a bloody pulp for you, ma'am".
ps: that is a figure of speech, not a threat of violence, OK. although one sometimes wonders ...
I expect I have some repressed anger issues and if I was an American I'd be in therapy. But I'm an Australian, and I'll just take it out on someone; in this case, the richly deserving Gavin.
did I mention he was so rude to me on the phone that he actually made me cry? and like any good feminist, I can be my own white knight: "I'll beat him to a bloody pulp for you, ma'am".
ps: that is a figure of speech, not a threat of violence, OK. although one sometimes wonders ...
aargh. the idjuts at the bin company ignored both my emails, so I got the nice Jim's man to take the rubbish away.
The VERY NEXT MORNING some fool turns up with a bin and thinks he's going to take a small pile of sticks away. My clever nephew, thank goodness, told him not to.
So now I'm heading for a tribunal hearing.
not that any of you care, but I'll just blog the emails since then - now that Gavin Eddy, bin master extraordinaire, has decided he can reply to emails after all.
let this be a warning to all you customer service people out there. which Gavin is clearly not.
don't bother reading this: it's just for my satisfaction and to get it out of my head so I can get back to work
Dear Gavin,
a few points:
The bin was not full to its potential; a large part of the contents was grass, which compresses easily, and it was not quite full to the edge. I have photographs of the remaining material and a witness (the person actually loading it) who can support that what was left was not a particularly large amount - it would definitely have fitted into the removed bin, but it was oo much to go into a domestic bin.
At no stage did I ask for an empty bin; the issue was not volume, but timing, and I suggest you speak to Mat about his definite assurances on that issue. He informed me that that the bin would be left for 48 hours, I checked with him again and relied on that and the written invoice. If that had not happened, we could easily have put the material in the bin on June 19.
You could have emailed me back, as I suggested, if you did not want to speak to me. I might point out that I was the person who stopped talking on Friday, and you were the one who said "I'm not going to listen to you." You seemed more concerned with getting your side across than with hearing mine, which is even more important to resolving disputes. The timing issue of getting the property cleared was crucial, which I tried to tell you and to express in my emails.
The rubbish was removed on Tuesday June 26, in line with the intentions I expressed earlier, so whether I took the calls on June 27 is not relevant.
I regret that you decided to ignore both my emails, but as I've said, I feel that I was first misled, then ignored. With no response to my two emails and with no real prospect of the rubbish being removed, and after being quite upset by the way you spoke to me on Friday, it seemed to me that All Over Bins had no further intention of assisting me or even communicating with me.
As a courtesy and in line with the VCAT guidelines, I will send you the invoice and my supporting material in the next few days; about a week after that, if I haven't received payment, I will have to institute proceedings and let the tribunal sort it out, which no doubt will be very time consuming and boring for both of us.
Regards,
Jenny Sinclair
>From: "Gavin Eddy"
>Reply-To: "Gavin Eddy"
>To: "J Sinclair"
>Subject: Re: Gavin
>Date: Wed, 27 Jun 2001 15:09:21 +1000
>
>Dear Jenni,
>
>Thank you for your emails of Tuesday and Friday, I apologise for not calling
>you but as I experienced in previous calls it was difficult to put across a
>point of view, something crucial to resolving disputes.
> You were informed that we would get another partially filled bin to you
>as soon as one became available, this happened today but it was too late,
>(unbeknown to us)
> We left two unanswered phone calls on your phone this morning
> To provide you with an empty bin would have been overkill and more than
>we would have been obliged to do
> The driver who picked up the bin informed me that the bin was full and
>the chances of getting any more in it were unlikely. (thats why he took the
>bin)
> As far as we are concerned, we provided a 2.5m3 bin and we picked up a
>2.5m3 bin that was used to its potential, and that we paid full tipping fees
>on. We have no problem with our conduct in this matter and receipt of your
>Jims Mowing invoice will not meet with payment.
> Your are welcome to take what ever action through what ever agency you
>see fit.
>
>GAVIN EDDY.
>
>
>----- Original Message -----
>From: J Sinclair
>To:
>Sent: Wednesday, 27 June 2001 0:24
>Subject: att: Gavin
>
>
> >
> > Dear Gavin,
> >
> > As I indicated in my email of Tuesday morning, after not hearing from you
>in
> > response to either my email of Friday or Tuesday, I hired a contractor at
> > lunchtime yesterday to remove the hard rubbish which had been on the front
> > lawn of the property for six days.
> >
> > I understand that a person came past this morning with a bin.
> >
> > It's unfortunate that you didn't call or email me in the five days since
>we
> > spoke. I did try to let you know that if I had a firm time within the
> > deadlines I was working to, that would fix the problem, but as there was
>no
> > response from your end, I didn't have a choice.
> >
> > As it is, I paid Jim's Mowing $50 to remove the material yesterday
> > afternoon.
> >
> > I now have two choices; to send you a copy of that invoice and ask you to
> > reimburse me, or to go to VCAT for a full or partial refund of my payment
> > for the original bin, on the basis of all the events in my earlier emails.
> >
> > You can call or email me if you like; at the moment I plan to send you a
> > copy of the invoice and a request for payment, unless I hear from you.
> >
> > Jenny Sinclair
> >
> >
> > _________________________________________________________________________
> > Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com.
> >
>
The VERY NEXT MORNING some fool turns up with a bin and thinks he's going to take a small pile of sticks away. My clever nephew, thank goodness, told him not to.
So now I'm heading for a tribunal hearing.
not that any of you care, but I'll just blog the emails since then - now that Gavin Eddy, bin master extraordinaire, has decided he can reply to emails after all.
let this be a warning to all you customer service people out there. which Gavin is clearly not.
don't bother reading this: it's just for my satisfaction and to get it out of my head so I can get back to work
Dear Gavin,
a few points:
The bin was not full to its potential; a large part of the contents was grass, which compresses easily, and it was not quite full to the edge. I have photographs of the remaining material and a witness (the person actually loading it) who can support that what was left was not a particularly large amount - it would definitely have fitted into the removed bin, but it was oo much to go into a domestic bin.
At no stage did I ask for an empty bin; the issue was not volume, but timing, and I suggest you speak to Mat about his definite assurances on that issue. He informed me that that the bin would be left for 48 hours, I checked with him again and relied on that and the written invoice. If that had not happened, we could easily have put the material in the bin on June 19.
You could have emailed me back, as I suggested, if you did not want to speak to me. I might point out that I was the person who stopped talking on Friday, and you were the one who said "I'm not going to listen to you." You seemed more concerned with getting your side across than with hearing mine, which is even more important to resolving disputes. The timing issue of getting the property cleared was crucial, which I tried to tell you and to express in my emails.
The rubbish was removed on Tuesday June 26, in line with the intentions I expressed earlier, so whether I took the calls on June 27 is not relevant.
I regret that you decided to ignore both my emails, but as I've said, I feel that I was first misled, then ignored. With no response to my two emails and with no real prospect of the rubbish being removed, and after being quite upset by the way you spoke to me on Friday, it seemed to me that All Over Bins had no further intention of assisting me or even communicating with me.
As a courtesy and in line with the VCAT guidelines, I will send you the invoice and my supporting material in the next few days; about a week after that, if I haven't received payment, I will have to institute proceedings and let the tribunal sort it out, which no doubt will be very time consuming and boring for both of us.
Regards,
Jenny Sinclair
>From: "Gavin Eddy"
>Reply-To: "Gavin Eddy"
>To: "J Sinclair"
>Subject: Re: Gavin
>Date: Wed, 27 Jun 2001 15:09:21 +1000
>
>Dear Jenni,
>
>Thank you for your emails of Tuesday and Friday, I apologise for not calling
>you but as I experienced in previous calls it was difficult to put across a
>point of view, something crucial to resolving disputes.
> You were informed that we would get another partially filled bin to you
>as soon as one became available, this happened today but it was too late,
>(unbeknown to us)
> We left two unanswered phone calls on your phone this morning
> To provide you with an empty bin would have been overkill and more than
>we would have been obliged to do
> The driver who picked up the bin informed me that the bin was full and
>the chances of getting any more in it were unlikely. (thats why he took the
>bin)
> As far as we are concerned, we provided a 2.5m3 bin and we picked up a
>2.5m3 bin that was used to its potential, and that we paid full tipping fees
>on. We have no problem with our conduct in this matter and receipt of your
>Jims Mowing invoice will not meet with payment.
> Your are welcome to take what ever action through what ever agency you
>see fit.
>
>GAVIN EDDY.
>
>
>----- Original Message -----
>From: J Sinclair
>To:
>Sent: Wednesday, 27 June 2001 0:24
>Subject: att: Gavin
>
>
> >
> > Dear Gavin,
> >
> > As I indicated in my email of Tuesday morning, after not hearing from you
>in
> > response to either my email of Friday or Tuesday, I hired a contractor at
> > lunchtime yesterday to remove the hard rubbish which had been on the front
> > lawn of the property for six days.
> >
> > I understand that a person came past this morning with a bin.
> >
> > It's unfortunate that you didn't call or email me in the five days since
>we
> > spoke. I did try to let you know that if I had a firm time within the
> > deadlines I was working to, that would fix the problem, but as there was
>no
> > response from your end, I didn't have a choice.
> >
> > As it is, I paid Jim's Mowing $50 to remove the material yesterday
> > afternoon.
> >
> > I now have two choices; to send you a copy of that invoice and ask you to
> > reimburse me, or to go to VCAT for a full or partial refund of my payment
> > for the original bin, on the basis of all the events in my earlier emails.
> >
> > You can call or email me if you like; at the moment I plan to send you a
> > copy of the invoice and a request for payment, unless I hear from you.
> >
> > Jenny Sinclair
> >
> >
> > _________________________________________________________________________
> > Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com.
> >
>
Monday, June 25, 2001
Sunday, June 24, 2001
need ... more ... coffee ....
Dilbert says to his boss: "is it OK if I take naps during the day? Or would you prefer that I make important decisions while groggy and delusional?"
when I rule the world, the afternoon nap room will be a standard office fitting. strategically situated outside the nap room door will be a fridge filled with Coke, Mars Bars, Cadbury chocolate and possibly Tim Tams. maybe some sultanas and green tea for health nuts.
my quality of work is inversely proportional to the length of time since my last nap. or something.
Dilbert says to his boss: "is it OK if I take naps during the day? Or would you prefer that I make important decisions while groggy and delusional?"
when I rule the world, the afternoon nap room will be a standard office fitting. strategically situated outside the nap room door will be a fridge filled with Coke, Mars Bars, Cadbury chocolate and possibly Tim Tams. maybe some sultanas and green tea for health nuts.
my quality of work is inversely proportional to the length of time since my last nap. or something.
yeah, OK Ev, I voted. and the superior numbers of Blogger are already showing.
RED ALERT! there are fewer than 100 Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats left. they are all in one small national park, the dingoes keep eating them and they're not very bright. but they are cute and fuzzy.
unfortunately I can't find a way you can send them donations, but the researchers' site is here.
why don't you care?
RED ALERT! there are fewer than 100 Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats left. they are all in one small national park, the dingoes keep eating them and they're not very bright. but they are cute and fuzzy.
unfortunately I can't find a way you can send them donations, but the researchers' site is here.
why don't you care?
if I haven't blogged over the weekend, it's possibly because there is nothing in my heart except anger about skip company people. Brian was only the beginning - Gavin, the owner, told me after two days of non-skipness, "I'm not going to listen to you". he also spoke to me rudely, loudly and at great length, which upset me more than it should have. I will probably end up going them in the consumer tribunal.
in the meantime, there is a big pile of rusting junk on my front lawn. I wonder if I can sell it on ebay?
in the meantime, there is a big pile of rusting junk on my front lawn. I wonder if I can sell it on ebay?
Tuesday, June 19, 2001
the word that best describes my mood today: Feisty. Well, maybe angry. slept terribly, have a huge article to write today, and THE SKIP GOT TAKEN AWAY!!!
leaving us with a dead cat and lots of junk that was yet to get thrown in it.
apparently the driver's verbal assurance that I had it for 48 hours and the piece of paper which also said I had it for 48 hours did not override the original call-taker's failure to tell me that the minimum hire was 48 hours. when I called, I said "a day" assuming that that was the shortest (cheapest) hire. no one informed me otherwise. when it was dropped off I discussed the 48 hours TWICE with the driver and was v. pleased at the extra time. so we left some things to today. but they still took it away.
leading to a rather heated phone call to All Over Bins in which one Brian Wilkie said to me "Are you going to listen or do I just have to listen to your constant ramblings?" At which I asked for his name because "this conversation's not going very well and I want to take notes"
eventually Jim, the original booking person, got on the phone and agreed to provide - get this - a partly full bin for another day. they seem to suspect that it's all a scam on my part to get another 2.5 cubic metre's worth of rubbish, when all I have is a dead cat, some old tin and a few bits of Luigi's concreting equipment that is surplus to requirements.
you just can't get good service these days.
oh well, at least the argument about whether or not the driver should have said what he did, whether I had a contract and whether I cared what the driver should have said or not saved me a) cancelling my cheque and b) starting a long and boring fight in the Small Claims Tribunal.
one just doesn't take this kind of shit from people any more.
leaving us with a dead cat and lots of junk that was yet to get thrown in it.
apparently the driver's verbal assurance that I had it for 48 hours and the piece of paper which also said I had it for 48 hours did not override the original call-taker's failure to tell me that the minimum hire was 48 hours. when I called, I said "a day" assuming that that was the shortest (cheapest) hire. no one informed me otherwise. when it was dropped off I discussed the 48 hours TWICE with the driver and was v. pleased at the extra time. so we left some things to today. but they still took it away.
leading to a rather heated phone call to All Over Bins in which one Brian Wilkie said to me "Are you going to listen or do I just have to listen to your constant ramblings?" At which I asked for his name because "this conversation's not going very well and I want to take notes"
eventually Jim, the original booking person, got on the phone and agreed to provide - get this - a partly full bin for another day. they seem to suspect that it's all a scam on my part to get another 2.5 cubic metre's worth of rubbish, when all I have is a dead cat, some old tin and a few bits of Luigi's concreting equipment that is surplus to requirements.
you just can't get good service these days.
oh well, at least the argument about whether or not the driver should have said what he did, whether I had a contract and whether I cared what the driver should have said or not saved me a) cancelling my cheque and b) starting a long and boring fight in the Small Claims Tribunal.
one just doesn't take this kind of shit from people any more.
Monday, June 18, 2001
The most exciting thing to happen to me today: the arrival of The Skip, into which, I hope, my nephew will throw all the junk around the yard that's been bothering me. it sent me into a state of very mild anxiety about what to chuck and what to keep, and I'd rather be at home doing that than at work on this lovely day.
The second most exciting thing to happen to me today: I forgot to pack my stockings when I rode into work, and had to run about the place pretending to ignore my white, hairy legs for a few minutes before I got to the emergency tights.
don' t you wish you had my life?
The second most exciting thing to happen to me today: I forgot to pack my stockings when I rode into work, and had to run about the place pretending to ignore my white, hairy legs for a few minutes before I got to the emergency tights.
don' t you wish you had my life?
Sunday, June 17, 2001
blogs I want to come back and read later, that appear to be written by intelligent people: one ,a piece about how the structure of the hand influences human history and Matthew who is on fire and falling still, but on a different server now.
maybe it's the crashing headache I had Saturday morning. Maybe it's the subtle whine of the fan and the way it reminds me of work.
but another non-computer weekend has passed, and I don't mind at all. the boys (Andrew and my nephew Marc, who is staying here until he works out what he'd rather be doing) are off getting a PS2 to occupy them, but apart from blogging, I'll be planning my garden and reading my book of gay Australian short fiction.
poor old garden. anything I plant would be run over by the backhoe when we finally renovate, so I've been "waiting" for a year and a half now. if I'd known it would take so long I could have raised several generations of chickens/tomatoes/sunflowers there. don't wait. it may never happen.
as it is, two beautiful 30-year-old grapevines will probably be destroyed before they can sprout leaves next summer (that's if we ever get a building permit).
But Marc got out there amongst it today, following up on what I did two weeks ago. Pathetically, I want to train the four remaining grapevines on each side (that's eight) over a series of arches and pretend it's like the grand allee in Monet's garden at Giverney. To that end, Marc dug up the nasturtiums that have run wild all over Luigi's beautiful brown soil, and planted them along the vines, where only two weeks ago there was knee-high grass. In summer, the nasturtiums will spill over the edge of the path in waves - or that's the idea.
now all I have to do is organise air that sparkles in summer, and a creek that I can turn into a picture-perfect water garden...
who's Luigi? It's a long story. for now, enough that he is responsible for the grapevines, the olive tree, the magnificently cared-for soil that will grow anything, the dodgy tiling and wiring and more concrete than you can poke a stick at.
As Marc's Italian boss on the farm he was working on said to me: "We Italians: we came, we saw, we concreted."
but another non-computer weekend has passed, and I don't mind at all. the boys (Andrew and my nephew Marc, who is staying here until he works out what he'd rather be doing) are off getting a PS2 to occupy them, but apart from blogging, I'll be planning my garden and reading my book of gay Australian short fiction.
poor old garden. anything I plant would be run over by the backhoe when we finally renovate, so I've been "waiting" for a year and a half now. if I'd known it would take so long I could have raised several generations of chickens/tomatoes/sunflowers there. don't wait. it may never happen.
as it is, two beautiful 30-year-old grapevines will probably be destroyed before they can sprout leaves next summer (that's if we ever get a building permit).
But Marc got out there amongst it today, following up on what I did two weeks ago. Pathetically, I want to train the four remaining grapevines on each side (that's eight) over a series of arches and pretend it's like the grand allee in Monet's garden at Giverney. To that end, Marc dug up the nasturtiums that have run wild all over Luigi's beautiful brown soil, and planted them along the vines, where only two weeks ago there was knee-high grass. In summer, the nasturtiums will spill over the edge of the path in waves - or that's the idea.
now all I have to do is organise air that sparkles in summer, and a creek that I can turn into a picture-perfect water garden...
who's Luigi? It's a long story. for now, enough that he is responsible for the grapevines, the olive tree, the magnificently cared-for soil that will grow anything, the dodgy tiling and wiring and more concrete than you can poke a stick at.
As Marc's Italian boss on the farm he was working on said to me: "We Italians: we came, we saw, we concreted."
Wednesday, June 13, 2001
just to get this out of my head; I saw an article the other day claiming that meaningless work rituals, like always using the same coffee cup, boost productivity. so far, so OK. but then it said that some huge number of people will insist on using the same toilet stall EVEN IF THEY HAVE TO WAIT!!!
now that, I can't believe. it's just a toilet. what did their parents do wrong when they were getting these people out of nappies?
now that, I can't believe. it's just a toilet. what did their parents do wrong when they were getting these people out of nappies?
the weather is normally considered not blog-worthy, but then again, most of you don't live in Melbourne, do you? sunshine, blue skies, driving hail, winds so strong they blow the smoke back down the chimney, bone-chilling cold, scudding fluffy clouds - it's all in a day's work here.
we have a saying in Melbourne : if you don't like the weather, wait a minute.
we have a saying in Melbourne : if you don't like the weather, wait a minute.
Monday, June 11, 2001
ok, I've shamelessly listed myself on the Blogger rent-a-quote page. the rave from which my quote is drawn is here
My husband is afraid if people keep coming to my site looking for information about netbroadcaster, I'll get sued. so this is to make it easy for the lawyers
so there I was, for the first time in months and months properly riding a motorbike (bringing it home from the workshop doesn't count.)
this bike, a Suzuki GS(x?)500 is twice as big as my old Honda 250, lower but a lot heavier as well. there are subtle differences too, like the lack of a fairing and the way the mirrors move when you move the handlebars, where the old bike had mirrors on the frame.
I did a lap or two of the suburb, sticking to left turns (right turns are my weak point) and eventually got onto the freeway to take it up to 100 (k's, before you freak out).
and as I was toodling along at 105 with nothing between me and the bitumen but a 1/4 inch of leather and my ability to stay upright I realised I was terrified.
Then I remembered that terrified is how you're supposed to be on a motorcycle. anything else is suicidal.
In a funny way it's good that it's been so long. When I first got this bike, it scared me because it seemed so much heavier and to handle differently to the nippy but weak Honda. Now, all I know is that it's a bike and I have to learn to ride it. After 10 years on motorcycles, you'd think I'd be confident. No way. It's like going back to the start - take it easy, do lots of small rides and keep on talking to myself: "turn your head, check your mirrors, countersteer" and sometimes "TAKE YOUR HAND OFF THE CLUTCH AND GIVE IT SOME POWER YOU STUPID BITCH!!!"
this bike, a Suzuki GS(x?)500 is twice as big as my old Honda 250, lower but a lot heavier as well. there are subtle differences too, like the lack of a fairing and the way the mirrors move when you move the handlebars, where the old bike had mirrors on the frame.
I did a lap or two of the suburb, sticking to left turns (right turns are my weak point) and eventually got onto the freeway to take it up to 100 (k's, before you freak out).
and as I was toodling along at 105 with nothing between me and the bitumen but a 1/4 inch of leather and my ability to stay upright I realised I was terrified.
Then I remembered that terrified is how you're supposed to be on a motorcycle. anything else is suicidal.
In a funny way it's good that it's been so long. When I first got this bike, it scared me because it seemed so much heavier and to handle differently to the nippy but weak Honda. Now, all I know is that it's a bike and I have to learn to ride it. After 10 years on motorcycles, you'd think I'd be confident. No way. It's like going back to the start - take it easy, do lots of small rides and keep on talking to myself: "turn your head, check your mirrors, countersteer" and sometimes "TAKE YOUR HAND OFF THE CLUTCH AND GIVE IT SOME POWER YOU STUPID BITCH!!!"
Sunday, June 10, 2001
one more thought before I forget it; a line from a business article I read this morning; that people who don't change and learn risk becoming caricatures of themselves. which somehow fits with a line from Richard Sennet's excellent The Corrosion of Character, in which he said that change is valued for itself these days, with no clear reason why.
don't know how that feeds into my current work-related existential crisis, but I think it does. change; the whys and hows matter.
don't know how that feeds into my current work-related existential crisis, but I think it does. change; the whys and hows matter.
I'm pleased to report that this is my first moment at a computer since 5 pm Friday. It's a long weekend here (happy birthday to Her Majesty) and my body/mind have reacted to the very thought of sitting in front of a screen in an unusually negative way.
So we went to the market, shopped for a juicer and tech toys for Andrew, went to the movies (no, that doesn't count as a screen) (Best In Show, great characters, funny, btw), I went for a bike ride, spent many happy hours killing plants in the garden (the more you kill, the better the garden looks. Roses especially are the sado-masochists of the plant world - they'll try to spike you, but if you get past that and cut their arms off, they blush like willing virgins next summer), and we walked the dog a lot.
and now that I'm here on the PC, I've realised again how ANNOYING that whine of the hard drive's cooling fan is. Think I'll go and take my motorbike for a ride - it has spent months in the workshop and we have some getting-to-know-each-other to do.
So we went to the market, shopped for a juicer and tech toys for Andrew, went to the movies (no, that doesn't count as a screen) (Best In Show, great characters, funny, btw), I went for a bike ride, spent many happy hours killing plants in the garden (the more you kill, the better the garden looks. Roses especially are the sado-masochists of the plant world - they'll try to spike you, but if you get past that and cut their arms off, they blush like willing virgins next summer), and we walked the dog a lot.
and now that I'm here on the PC, I've realised again how ANNOYING that whine of the hard drive's cooling fan is. Think I'll go and take my motorbike for a ride - it has spent months in the workshop and we have some getting-to-know-each-other to do.
my latest hot business idea: a weekend away/housecleaning service.
you'd need an apartment or holiday house all set up to deal with at least two kids - spa bath for the parents, lots of videos and toys, meals prepared in the freezer and so on.
then you offer a service where the harried parents can grab their kids on Friday night, go to this place, relax for the weekend and come home on Sunday morning to a clean house. even the most disgusting things - week-old cooking pots, piles of nappies, overflowing bins - would be cleaned up. the dog would be walked and the parents would have half a chance of dealing with their week come Monday.
this idea comes from my lunch with my friend on Friday when she looked at me and said "I just can't cope with it ... I need some time for me ... it's all too rushed" or words to that effect.
Two small kids, full-time work, an ill mother, deadlines... I can't imagine how anyone does cope with it, just with the basic work of getting the laundry done and food on the table, let alone spending enjoyable time with their children and getting some sleep.
And while not a lot of people have the money to pay for regular hired help, maybe from time to time they'd get desperate enough to be willing to pay to walk out of the house, leave the chaos behind and have it halfway-organised when they return.
of course you could only do this if you don't have kids of your own...but it would be a good weekend cash earner idea, especially if you're a clean type and have your own apartment the clients could stay in.
you'd need an apartment or holiday house all set up to deal with at least two kids - spa bath for the parents, lots of videos and toys, meals prepared in the freezer and so on.
then you offer a service where the harried parents can grab their kids on Friday night, go to this place, relax for the weekend and come home on Sunday morning to a clean house. even the most disgusting things - week-old cooking pots, piles of nappies, overflowing bins - would be cleaned up. the dog would be walked and the parents would have half a chance of dealing with their week come Monday.
this idea comes from my lunch with my friend on Friday when she looked at me and said "I just can't cope with it ... I need some time for me ... it's all too rushed" or words to that effect.
Two small kids, full-time work, an ill mother, deadlines... I can't imagine how anyone does cope with it, just with the basic work of getting the laundry done and food on the table, let alone spending enjoyable time with their children and getting some sleep.
And while not a lot of people have the money to pay for regular hired help, maybe from time to time they'd get desperate enough to be willing to pay to walk out of the house, leave the chaos behind and have it halfway-organised when they return.
of course you could only do this if you don't have kids of your own...but it would be a good weekend cash earner idea, especially if you're a clean type and have your own apartment the clients could stay in.
Tuesday, June 05, 2001
sometimes I just want to go up to her and yell "why don't you EAT something!"
you've seen her. she is thin, thin, thin. not sexy thin or naturally, Asian-style, thin.
her bones stick out from her flesh. if it's at the market, she's buying celery and apples. if it's in a cafe she's sipping herbal tea or plain hot water.
her hair is lank and floppy, her eyes are dead. she's not on drugs. she thinks this looks good. she probably even thinks she could stand to lose a few pounds.
it hurts to look at her.
you've seen her. she is thin, thin, thin. not sexy thin or naturally, Asian-style, thin.
her bones stick out from her flesh. if it's at the market, she's buying celery and apples. if it's in a cafe she's sipping herbal tea or plain hot water.
her hair is lank and floppy, her eyes are dead. she's not on drugs. she thinks this looks good. she probably even thinks she could stand to lose a few pounds.
it hurts to look at her.
a day of being pretty good at work has led to me having a blog-surf tonight. it's like floating around a crowd, mind-reading, especially when all the good blogs are updated at least within the last couple of days.
there's a blogger clone with a fairyfloss look at diaryland
there's a blogger clone with a fairyfloss look at diaryland
searches that may bring you to this blog: On Google "pamela+anderson+theory+media".
on aol: "www.netbroadcaster.com."
the former has something to do with Britney Spears and my joke about using Pammy's name to get traffic.
the second is due to netbroadcaster's shocking mousejacking tactics and a whinge I had a few weeks back about the fact they brushed off my complaint that their site sucked my browser into a mosaic of crappy popup windows
I'm sure neither search is satisfied by this blog.
such is the random wisdom of the Web. so sorry.
on aol: "www.netbroadcaster.com."
the former has something to do with Britney Spears and my joke about using Pammy's name to get traffic.
the second is due to netbroadcaster's shocking mousejacking tactics and a whinge I had a few weeks back about the fact they brushed off my complaint that their site sucked my browser into a mosaic of crappy popup windows
I'm sure neither search is satisfied by this blog.
such is the random wisdom of the Web. so sorry.
Monday, June 04, 2001
so much for not blogging when I'm at work. I nearly made it throught the day.
only two hours after coming back from my week off, I had a headache and sore eyes. this screen is just awful, and I spend far too much time looking at it.
between my essay and my job, both of which involve taking large amounts of not-quite-random data and turning it into a narrative often supported only by writers' tricks, sometimes I feel like a Babelfish.
only two hours after coming back from my week off, I had a headache and sore eyes. this screen is just awful, and I spend far too much time looking at it.
between my essay and my job, both of which involve taking large amounts of not-quite-random data and turning it into a narrative often supported only by writers' tricks, sometimes I feel like a Babelfish.
Sunday, June 03, 2001
'lemon tree, very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet ..."
when we bought our beautiful house a year and a half ago, the big lemon tree in the backyard was covered in fruit - and bugs.
so we had to cut off just about every single leaf and twig and hope it survived.
now, on the fourth day of winter, a sunny warmish winter day at that, I've just noticed bunches of flower buds in amongst the new leaves.
"but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat ..."
tra la la. that makes me happy.
(I was trying to link to a pic of said beautiful house, but for some reason geocities didn't want me to put it up on my site there; and I can't be bothered with all that FTP stuff to get it onto my other site. one day I will rationalise all the bits of me that are spread around cyberspace.)
when we bought our beautiful house a year and a half ago, the big lemon tree in the backyard was covered in fruit - and bugs.
so we had to cut off just about every single leaf and twig and hope it survived.
now, on the fourth day of winter, a sunny warmish winter day at that, I've just noticed bunches of flower buds in amongst the new leaves.
"but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat ..."
tra la la. that makes me happy.
(I was trying to link to a pic of said beautiful house, but for some reason geocities didn't want me to put it up on my site there; and I can't be bothered with all that FTP stuff to get it onto my other site. one day I will rationalise all the bits of me that are spread around cyberspace.)
Friday, June 01, 2001
oh, nearly forgot to mention: after 15 years of having long, natural coloured hair (bar the odd blonde/red/black highlight or two) yesterday I got it cut to shoulder length and dyed red. I wanted light, Nicole Kidman-red, but I got a kind of dark glossy. well, Andrew has this thing about redheads... and it seemed a good way to farewell the guy who's been cutting my hair for the past 15 years. a 55-year career in the same job! even when it's your own salon, it's still beyond my imagining.
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