Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
It's the little things that get you
OK, so it's another whinge post.
The new building's all very lovely and the views are great blah blah blah. But it's possible someone skimped on a budget somewhere, as one of the electric blinds doesn't work. ie All the blinds around it close, but this one is forever open.
Now this may not sound like such a big deal. But seriously, you should check out what happens at sunset every day.
the offending blind is behind me and slightly to my left. So at a very special time very day, the sunset comes blaring drectly onto my computer monitor, and then reflects directly back into my eyes. I physically cannot see a single thing on my screen and end up having to turn it around sideways and len forward and turn my head to keep working.
Great for OH&S non? 
Taste
I've always wondered about how people like and dislike different flavours.
I mean, I assume we all have basically the same equipment for tasting, and if you're a Darwinist the basic theory is that taste developed to indicate what was good or bad to eat from a survival point of view.
So why would it be different for different people? Apart from allergies, foods that are good for one person are good for another and the same with poisons.
But, I'm willing to wager, if you turn to the person next to you and ask them what their favourite food is, and which foods they dislike, they will not be the same choices you would make.
Today I wandered down to one of the local food shops to get some lunch and ordered a pre-made salad. There were a lot of ingredients I like, and just a little bit of beetroot.
I don't like beetroot. Never have since I was a kid and first eating solids. this was much to my Mum's dismay, since she grew and pickled her own and I think it may have been a source of pride (not without good reason, mind) that her beetroot is pretty sensational. Regardless, I've never been able to stomach the stuff. As a side note, this may not be such a bad thing given my natural clutziness and the apparent ability of beetroot to permanently stain anything it comes into contact with.
Since I like to think of myself as open-minded and I also know that my tastes have changes as I've gotten older, I decided to give it another go. It was only a small piece after all, and mixed in with the rest of the salad stuff.
Well, I guess my tastes haven't changed. Yuck! I'll give that a miss for the next 10 years thank you very much.
So, now you may or may not be wondering what else I don't like. Regardless, I'm gonna tell you!
I mean, I assume we all have basically the same equipment for tasting, and if you're a Darwinist the basic theory is that taste developed to indicate what was good or bad to eat from a survival point of view.
So why would it be different for different people? Apart from allergies, foods that are good for one person are good for another and the same with poisons.
But, I'm willing to wager, if you turn to the person next to you and ask them what their favourite food is, and which foods they dislike, they will not be the same choices you would make.
Today I wandered down to one of the local food shops to get some lunch and ordered a pre-made salad. There were a lot of ingredients I like, and just a little bit of beetroot.
I don't like beetroot. Never have since I was a kid and first eating solids. this was much to my Mum's dismay, since she grew and pickled her own and I think it may have been a source of pride (not without good reason, mind) that her beetroot is pretty sensational. Regardless, I've never been able to stomach the stuff. As a side note, this may not be such a bad thing given my natural clutziness and the apparent ability of beetroot to permanently stain anything it comes into contact with.
Since I like to think of myself as open-minded and I also know that my tastes have changes as I've gotten older, I decided to give it another go. It was only a small piece after all, and mixed in with the rest of the salad stuff.
Well, I guess my tastes haven't changed. Yuck! I'll give that a miss for the next 10 years thank you very much.
So, now you may or may not be wondering what else I don't like. Regardless, I'm gonna tell you!
- Number 1 by a long-shot is Vegemite. Not very patriotic of me, I know, but the stuff literally makes me feel nauseous. Can't even handle spreading the stuff on toast for someone else because it smells like it tastes.
- Peas. OK on their own or raw in coleslaw (mum's secret ingredient), but I don't like peas mixed in with other stuff. It's just somehow wrong.
- Carrots. Love them raw. Not so good if they're cooked. I don't hate them, just rarely do them for myself.
- Tomatoes. Love them cooked, not so big on them raw. I used to refuse raw tomato altogether, but have conceded to not picking it out if it's already in a salad. Also I'm OK with them if they're home-grown.
- Bananas. Can't stand the texture. Don't mind if it's banana cake or something.
so yes, I'm kind of specific with the things I'm fussy about. My sister says I'm weird. but then she doesn't like garlic. she must be mad.
J.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The Winds of Change
There's nothing like a new look to liven up things up a bit. I've updated by blogger tool and so now have all sort of new bells and whistles to play with!
Hope you like the new look. I've also been toying with the idea of changing the name. Too much? Good idea? Any suggestions? You could end up going down in the jacki's Blog hall of fame (tempting, I know).
Submit your thoughts via the comments.
J.
Hope you like the new look. I've also been toying with the idea of changing the name. Too much? Good idea? Any suggestions? You could end up going down in the jacki's Blog hall of fame (tempting, I know).
Submit your thoughts via the comments.
J.
Count down...
I have started the countdown. Actually I started ages ago, but its kind of not cool to draw attention too far out. So anyway, now I've broken the 20-day barrier, expect constant reminders.
It's my birthday in 19 sleeps!!!!!
It's my birthday in 19 sleeps!!!!!
Guest Writer - A Night At the Phoenician with a Dash Extra
Some creative writing from Albert....
Here’s full account just as it happened, nothing more, nothing less. Well, perhaps I exaggerated a little, perhaps I made up most of the story, you the reader get to decide.
Last week I was at a restaurant called “The Phoenician”, with a group of friends. To be sure the food wasn’t all together intolerable. In fact it was quite adequate, one might even say it was tasty if one’s palates didn’t know better. However, one’s palates by no means gave an inkling to the sort of warped twilight zone one was about to make a wrong turn into. Suddenly, the music got louder. It sounded like the dance of the seven veils from the ancient royal courts of Jerusalem. The lighting dimmed, and in the back of my mind, I expected Salomé the daughter of king Herod Antipas to materialise from nowhere and start to provocatively sweep the dance floor. I was at least part right, for a Salomé look alike did indeed appear, followed closely by a male belly dancer, dressed in florescent green bikini-like top, and what looked like either a very large belt or a tiny skirt made entirely of golden tassels. He also had a green head garb, bejewelled with imitation rubies and emeralds, bestowing upon the observer many a far flashing, thus dazzlingly confounding.
“Keep an open mind”, I thought to myself, “for this is bound to be outlandishly entertaining”. The voice in my head was right on the money, no sooner had it stopped, the male belly dancer burst into serious dance, shaking his hip machinegun style. Had he artificially motorised his arse, it still wouldn’t have gone far enough to explain this unsightly scene. The hip oscillating at no less than 1000 RPMs, the stomach rippling like a pile of jelly on top of a jackhammer.
The last time I found myself in such surreal scene was at John Samaha’s party at Vaucluse Bowling club. We started by watching the sunset across the bay, that red fire goblet dips beyond the blue, indicating that the time was ripe for the loonies to make their appearance. Yes, I lucidly recall the provocative jazz singer named Edwina, dressed in a cat suit, swinging her tail left and right, all the time confessing to the beauty and simplicity of self-administered pleasures. So much was she into her theme that she may well have been a short 3 verses away from reaching for a cigarette.
Meanwhile, I stood across the room, with one martini in hand, totally immersed in her music. That voice, pure yet smouldering, like a nun with a shadowy past. It soaked the pleasure centres of the soul like a long shot of morphine into a fresh vein. What an indelent partie de plaisir she is, perhaps a tête-a-tête would be in order (the overuse of these French clichés could not be helped), by Jingo, yes, let’s do precisely that!
After some lapses and loses common to such dreamlike sequence, I fast-forwarded back to the present time, where the maitre d’ of the Phoenician had just brought us a complimentary dip. He proceeded to recite to us a certain legend about the Sumerian hero Galgamesh , that when he sought the bull of heaven, Humbaba, in the cedar forest of Ballabek, he consumed this very dip to gain miraculous powers, and thus triumph over his prey. I tried this “Hocus-Pocus” dip, it was rather good.
Given that it was so delicious, I thought I’d follow in my ancestral hero’s footsteps, and consume generous amounts of the stuff, in the hope of experiencing miraculous transformations myself. Alas, there was nothing to speak of, no overflowing reserves of wit, no superhuman strength. Perhaps the bowel movement the next morning was remarkably pale and coherent, like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube, now that’s hardly a miracle. All the same, pray to the good god this madness will never end.
Here’s full account just as it happened, nothing more, nothing less. Well, perhaps I exaggerated a little, perhaps I made up most of the story, you the reader get to decide.
Last week I was at a restaurant called “The Phoenician”, with a group of friends. To be sure the food wasn’t all together intolerable. In fact it was quite adequate, one might even say it was tasty if one’s palates didn’t know better. However, one’s palates by no means gave an inkling to the sort of warped twilight zone one was about to make a wrong turn into. Suddenly, the music got louder. It sounded like the dance of the seven veils from the ancient royal courts of Jerusalem. The lighting dimmed, and in the back of my mind, I expected Salomé the daughter of king Herod Antipas to materialise from nowhere and start to provocatively sweep the dance floor. I was at least part right, for a Salomé look alike did indeed appear, followed closely by a male belly dancer, dressed in florescent green bikini-like top, and what looked like either a very large belt or a tiny skirt made entirely of golden tassels. He also had a green head garb, bejewelled with imitation rubies and emeralds, bestowing upon the observer many a far flashing, thus dazzlingly confounding.
“Keep an open mind”, I thought to myself, “for this is bound to be outlandishly entertaining”. The voice in my head was right on the money, no sooner had it stopped, the male belly dancer burst into serious dance, shaking his hip machinegun style. Had he artificially motorised his arse, it still wouldn’t have gone far enough to explain this unsightly scene. The hip oscillating at no less than 1000 RPMs, the stomach rippling like a pile of jelly on top of a jackhammer.
The last time I found myself in such surreal scene was at John Samaha’s party at Vaucluse Bowling club. We started by watching the sunset across the bay, that red fire goblet dips beyond the blue, indicating that the time was ripe for the loonies to make their appearance. Yes, I lucidly recall the provocative jazz singer named Edwina, dressed in a cat suit, swinging her tail left and right, all the time confessing to the beauty and simplicity of self-administered pleasures. So much was she into her theme that she may well have been a short 3 verses away from reaching for a cigarette.
Meanwhile, I stood across the room, with one martini in hand, totally immersed in her music. That voice, pure yet smouldering, like a nun with a shadowy past. It soaked the pleasure centres of the soul like a long shot of morphine into a fresh vein. What an indelent partie de plaisir she is, perhaps a tête-a-tête would be in order (the overuse of these French clichés could not be helped), by Jingo, yes, let’s do precisely that!
After some lapses and loses common to such dreamlike sequence, I fast-forwarded back to the present time, where the maitre d’ of the Phoenician had just brought us a complimentary dip. He proceeded to recite to us a certain legend about the Sumerian hero Galgamesh , that when he sought the bull of heaven, Humbaba, in the cedar forest of Ballabek, he consumed this very dip to gain miraculous powers, and thus triumph over his prey. I tried this “Hocus-Pocus” dip, it was rather good.
Given that it was so delicious, I thought I’d follow in my ancestral hero’s footsteps, and consume generous amounts of the stuff, in the hope of experiencing miraculous transformations myself. Alas, there was nothing to speak of, no overflowing reserves of wit, no superhuman strength. Perhaps the bowel movement the next morning was remarkably pale and coherent, like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube, now that’s hardly a miracle. All the same, pray to the good god this madness will never end.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Quick Update
- The weekend was great
- Welcome back Ronene!
- Welcome back Adam!
- Happy birthday Bridget!
- How good is Spanish food?
- Trip to Tassie for me and the boy booked for March
- Still don't have the bloody clothes-dryer fixed!
Hope you all had a good weekend too.
J.
Friday, August 25, 2006
20 Questions
I've always been a fan of blogs. I read a couple of them regularly, and thought quite a lot about the whole thing before I started this one. During this time there were a few things I was interested to know, so I thought I'd put together a list of questions and my answers to them. I know I only speak for myself, but at best it may help demystify the whole blogging thing somewhat, and at worst it will bore you silly and you can skip it. So here goes. Jacki interviewing Jacki.
Why do you do it Jacki? Well, Jacki, It's fun for me and a creative outlet. I was a bit stale with the whole newsletter thing because it was too inflexible and I felt like I wanted to something a bit different. I consider myself a bit of an "open book" kind of person, so don't mind putting myself out there. Plus, as an added bonus, my friends & family who live far away can still keep track of what I'm up to.
What's the best bit Jacki? Definitely the comments and the feedback. Makes it all feel worthwhile. Especially when people tell me I make them laugh. My favourite posts to write are the ones where I get a bit silly and let my zany side out for a run. (It's a large part, OK).
What's the worst bit? Really can't think of too many worst bits. Only when I go to tell a story to one of my friends and they've already heard it because I put it on the blog.
What's the hardest bit? Trying to be honest about myself, but still respect the privacy of my friends and relationships. I have to remember that anyone could google me here so it's not fair to be too explicit about other people.
Where do you get your ideas from? funnily enough, that's never a problem. I actually keep a list of things as I think of them and can refer back to it on days when i have a bit more time on my hands. Usually it's stuff that happens in my life, stuff that annoys me or stuff that makes me happy or stuff that I have an opinion about.
Is everything in all of your posts true, or do you make it up? It's all true. Mostly. Let's just say I don't exaggerate any more than I usually do and leave it at that.
Where do you find the time? Usually I try to put up a post and do a bit of writing during my lunch break at work. If I've got a lot of ideas on the the go I'll sometimes do them at home and then bring them in and post them during my lunch hour. I deliberately (and mostly successfully) try to keep the posts themselves pretty short and manageable so as not to bore my faithful readers. Fridays are usually a bit quieter for me work-wise so I tend to do more.
Do you do drafts or just sit and write and post? A bit of both, actually. I always have a few half-written posts on the go which tend to be the longer, more general-opinion pieces (this particular post has been sitting in draft format for about 3 weeks). I'll usually spend a bit of time on them. The "what I've been up to" kind of posts I tend to just fire off. More often than not, though, I tend to have thought through what I'm going to write about and the basic structure of how I'm going to present it well before I sit down to write, so I just kind of bang away at the keyboard in a frenzy, read through once, spell check and then publish.
Do you have many readers? Not really sure. This particular blog host doesn't have counter or stats functionality so I don't know. Apart from one random comment from a random visitor a few weeks back, the only people I know who read are close friends or family. We could do a survey...If you're reading this, scroll down immediately to the comments link and raise your hand (electronically speaking). You don't have to say anything meaningful or witty. "OK, I read your bloody blog, OK?" will do.
You mentioned earlier that you watch a couple of blogs regularly. What are they? OK, I'll share my secrets. It's a rather eclectic mix. You can take a look via the following links...
http://www.meish.org/
http://www.moby.com/journal
http://shauny.org/pussycat/
http://www.slowleadership.org/
http://www.planetthoughtful.org/
http://becksposhnosh.blogspot.com/
..And lately....
http://roneneonthemove.blogspot.com/
If I'm new to a blog, should I go back in the archives to the beginning and read all the way through, or just start from wherever I come in? Well, I've tried both. Whatever tickles your fancy. With my blog, I'm sure the regular updates won't be enough of a good thing, so of course you would want to go back and read more ;-) Just kidding. Whatever you want.
You sometimes use some weirdo words, Jacki, are you trying to pretend you're smart? Confession time. I'm addicted to word of the day (today's is Denizen). And where else am I going to get to use all these fabulous words? And it's my blog. I'll use big words if I want to. But I do try not to get too carried away all the time.
And do you really think you're funny? Well, sometimes, hopefully. It's possible I inherited the smart-arse gene from my Dad. Why? Don't you like my sense of humour?
No. Actually. I don't think you're funny at all, except for being funny-looking. Now hang on a minute. There's no need to get mean about this. I do my best. If you don't like the blog, don't read it.
Well I kind of have to since I'm you and you write it, which means I write it and...Oh...Well, you know what I'm getting at. Anyway. It's not funny. I thought that you weren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so maybe that's normal.
Nope. I think it's just not funny.
Aargh! Forget it. I'm ending this interview now. I don't have to put up with this rudeness!!!
J. ;-)
Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. Answering yourself is the second. I'm clearly well beyond both points of no return!!!
Why do you do it Jacki? Well, Jacki, It's fun for me and a creative outlet. I was a bit stale with the whole newsletter thing because it was too inflexible and I felt like I wanted to something a bit different. I consider myself a bit of an "open book" kind of person, so don't mind putting myself out there. Plus, as an added bonus, my friends & family who live far away can still keep track of what I'm up to.
What's the best bit Jacki? Definitely the comments and the feedback. Makes it all feel worthwhile. Especially when people tell me I make them laugh. My favourite posts to write are the ones where I get a bit silly and let my zany side out for a run. (It's a large part, OK).
What's the worst bit? Really can't think of too many worst bits. Only when I go to tell a story to one of my friends and they've already heard it because I put it on the blog.
What's the hardest bit? Trying to be honest about myself, but still respect the privacy of my friends and relationships. I have to remember that anyone could google me here so it's not fair to be too explicit about other people.
Where do you get your ideas from? funnily enough, that's never a problem. I actually keep a list of things as I think of them and can refer back to it on days when i have a bit more time on my hands. Usually it's stuff that happens in my life, stuff that annoys me or stuff that makes me happy or stuff that I have an opinion about.
Is everything in all of your posts true, or do you make it up? It's all true. Mostly. Let's just say I don't exaggerate any more than I usually do and leave it at that.
Where do you find the time? Usually I try to put up a post and do a bit of writing during my lunch break at work. If I've got a lot of ideas on the the go I'll sometimes do them at home and then bring them in and post them during my lunch hour. I deliberately (and mostly successfully) try to keep the posts themselves pretty short and manageable so as not to bore my faithful readers. Fridays are usually a bit quieter for me work-wise so I tend to do more.
Do you do drafts or just sit and write and post? A bit of both, actually. I always have a few half-written posts on the go which tend to be the longer, more general-opinion pieces (this particular post has been sitting in draft format for about 3 weeks). I'll usually spend a bit of time on them. The "what I've been up to" kind of posts I tend to just fire off. More often than not, though, I tend to have thought through what I'm going to write about and the basic structure of how I'm going to present it well before I sit down to write, so I just kind of bang away at the keyboard in a frenzy, read through once, spell check and then publish.
Do you have many readers? Not really sure. This particular blog host doesn't have counter or stats functionality so I don't know. Apart from one random comment from a random visitor a few weeks back, the only people I know who read are close friends or family. We could do a survey...If you're reading this, scroll down immediately to the comments link and raise your hand (electronically speaking). You don't have to say anything meaningful or witty. "OK, I read your bloody blog, OK?" will do.
You mentioned earlier that you watch a couple of blogs regularly. What are they? OK, I'll share my secrets. It's a rather eclectic mix. You can take a look via the following links...
http://www.meish.org/
http://www.moby.com/journal
http://shauny.org/pussycat/
http://www.slowleadership.org/
http://www.planetthoughtful.org/
http://becksposhnosh.blogspot.com/
..And lately....
http://roneneonthemove.blogspot.com/
If I'm new to a blog, should I go back in the archives to the beginning and read all the way through, or just start from wherever I come in? Well, I've tried both. Whatever tickles your fancy. With my blog, I'm sure the regular updates won't be enough of a good thing, so of course you would want to go back and read more ;-) Just kidding. Whatever you want.
You sometimes use some weirdo words, Jacki, are you trying to pretend you're smart? Confession time. I'm addicted to word of the day (today's is Denizen). And where else am I going to get to use all these fabulous words? And it's my blog. I'll use big words if I want to. But I do try not to get too carried away all the time.
And do you really think you're funny? Well, sometimes, hopefully. It's possible I inherited the smart-arse gene from my Dad. Why? Don't you like my sense of humour?
No. Actually. I don't think you're funny at all, except for being funny-looking. Now hang on a minute. There's no need to get mean about this. I do my best. If you don't like the blog, don't read it.
Well I kind of have to since I'm you and you write it, which means I write it and...Oh...Well, you know what I'm getting at. Anyway. It's not funny. I thought that you weren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so maybe that's normal.
Nope. I think it's just not funny.
Aargh! Forget it. I'm ending this interview now. I don't have to put up with this rudeness!!!
J. ;-)
Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. Answering yourself is the second. I'm clearly well beyond both points of no return!!!
Welcome back Aunty Nene
great to have you back in the country and look forward to catching up and hearing all your tales of adventures tonight (if you don't fal asleep on me in the mean time), and maybe have a couple of glasses of red....
My million dollar idea for the day
Years ago someone told me (I'm reasonably sure I didn't make it up myself, even though it's possible) that the average person has 3 million-dollar ideas a year. That is, 3 ideas that could make a million dollars if they were actually done or invented.
Now necessity is the mother of invention, or so they say, and it certainly the motivator behind my idea.
About 12 months ago I needed a new mobile phone (after having my old one pinched, but that's another story). Like many people, I'd only ever owned Nokia phones. They were good and reliable and easy to use and you could get a decent one on pretty much any plan. But then something happened. The Samsung D500 slide phone had just come out on the market and I was instantly smitten. That very night I took home a shiny new black Samsung and have been very happy with it ever since. It does everything I want it to do exceptionally well and I am very attached to it. It may not have to be quite snowing in hell for me to be seen without it, but I would expect it to be getting towards the chilly side.
As with anything in this world, there's always a trade-off. After years of me and everyone I know having had Nokias, I was always pretty confident that there would be a Nokia charger to be found somewhere pretty easily if my battery should happen to have run down a bit further than I had realised. Plus I had a plethora of Nokia chargers...The ghost of mobile phones past...Of my own, so I could afford to have one in the lounge, one in the bedroom, one at work, one in my laptop bag, and a car charger.
Of course today my lovely sleek Samsung is running a little flat. I should have popped it on the charger last night, but completely forgot, and now it's down to the last bar. And Friday is always maximum mobile phone usage day (people to talk to, Friday night drinks plans to be made...You know how it is). And I'm at work. And I have one charger and one car charger. Needless to say, neither of them is here. And nobody around here has a Samsung charger. And even if they did, it's unlikely they will have had several Samsung chargers in a row and therefore have a spare to keep in their desk.
So you can see my dilemma. My necessity if you will.
Onto the idea. Actually, as I've been typing this it may have mutated into 2 ideas. Either would be a good thing.
Idea #1 - the universal mobile charger. How different can the technology in the batteries be? Surely it's only the attachment that's different. (I may be given a lecture the contrary from the battery-expert bf later this eve, but for now I'm sticking to my theory). Surely you could sell them through the office stationary catalogues? There'd definitely be a market. I know I'd consider investing in a spare charger more if I knew it would work on any future brands of phone I might buy. And if the whole battery thing is different, should there be some sort of regulation? Surely it's breaching some sort of monopoly rules or something (no, not the game. I'm trying to should like I know what I'm talking about).
Idea #2 - the retractable charger. Something like a vacuum cleaner cord perhaps? Maybe snapping open and closed so the bit that goes into the power-point (Yep, most definitely going to be told what the technical name for that is tonight) can actually be stored flat and inside the phone. How much of a competitive advantage would that feature give a phone over its competitors?? Lots I think.
So anyway. I think they're good ideas. And I've decided to be stubborn on this point. Even if I hear all sorts of responses about how neither of these things is possible, I still believe that they should be. And someone somewhere should just damn well come up with the technology to make it happen. That could be their million dollar idea. Maybe we could team up and both get rich. Anyone? Anyone?
Oh well. Guess I'll just have to try to use the phone as little as possible until I get home. A million dollars doesn't go as far as it used to anyway. Do you think I should adjust the saying for inflation?
J.
Now necessity is the mother of invention, or so they say, and it certainly the motivator behind my idea.
About 12 months ago I needed a new mobile phone (after having my old one pinched, but that's another story). Like many people, I'd only ever owned Nokia phones. They were good and reliable and easy to use and you could get a decent one on pretty much any plan. But then something happened. The Samsung D500 slide phone had just come out on the market and I was instantly smitten. That very night I took home a shiny new black Samsung and have been very happy with it ever since. It does everything I want it to do exceptionally well and I am very attached to it. It may not have to be quite snowing in hell for me to be seen without it, but I would expect it to be getting towards the chilly side.
As with anything in this world, there's always a trade-off. After years of me and everyone I know having had Nokias, I was always pretty confident that there would be a Nokia charger to be found somewhere pretty easily if my battery should happen to have run down a bit further than I had realised. Plus I had a plethora of Nokia chargers...The ghost of mobile phones past...Of my own, so I could afford to have one in the lounge, one in the bedroom, one at work, one in my laptop bag, and a car charger.
Of course today my lovely sleek Samsung is running a little flat. I should have popped it on the charger last night, but completely forgot, and now it's down to the last bar. And Friday is always maximum mobile phone usage day (people to talk to, Friday night drinks plans to be made...You know how it is). And I'm at work. And I have one charger and one car charger. Needless to say, neither of them is here. And nobody around here has a Samsung charger. And even if they did, it's unlikely they will have had several Samsung chargers in a row and therefore have a spare to keep in their desk.
So you can see my dilemma. My necessity if you will.
Onto the idea. Actually, as I've been typing this it may have mutated into 2 ideas. Either would be a good thing.
Idea #1 - the universal mobile charger. How different can the technology in the batteries be? Surely it's only the attachment that's different. (I may be given a lecture the contrary from the battery-expert bf later this eve, but for now I'm sticking to my theory). Surely you could sell them through the office stationary catalogues? There'd definitely be a market. I know I'd consider investing in a spare charger more if I knew it would work on any future brands of phone I might buy. And if the whole battery thing is different, should there be some sort of regulation? Surely it's breaching some sort of monopoly rules or something (no, not the game. I'm trying to should like I know what I'm talking about).
Idea #2 - the retractable charger. Something like a vacuum cleaner cord perhaps? Maybe snapping open and closed so the bit that goes into the power-point (Yep, most definitely going to be told what the technical name for that is tonight) can actually be stored flat and inside the phone. How much of a competitive advantage would that feature give a phone over its competitors?? Lots I think.
So anyway. I think they're good ideas. And I've decided to be stubborn on this point. Even if I hear all sorts of responses about how neither of these things is possible, I still believe that they should be. And someone somewhere should just damn well come up with the technology to make it happen. That could be their million dollar idea. Maybe we could team up and both get rich. Anyone? Anyone?
Oh well. Guess I'll just have to try to use the phone as little as possible until I get home. A million dollars doesn't go as far as it used to anyway. Do you think I should adjust the saying for inflation?
J.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
What a wonderful weird world
A couple of years ago I came up with a little bit of a theory. I came to believe that for someone like me, living in Newtown and working in the Sydney CBD, you manage to see something freaky pretty much every single day. At the time I was inspired by the fact that there was a loose crowd of people walking in random directions around the plaza next to my bus carry giant papier mache vegetables (didn't know then, don't know now. That experience has been relegated to the 'probably never will' category).
For a while I started writing them down, in order to prove my theory, but since I never really did anything with them and nobody else was interested, I stopped after a while.
The last couple of days, however, I do seem to have had a few stand-out freaky things cross my path.
On Tuesday night I was heading home, to find an iron sitting forlorn and alone under the dark footbridge near my house. Out and about looking for a nice lady iron perhaps?
On Wednesday night I was out for a few drinks to farewell Sandy. My taxi driver on the way home was an interesting fellow. He had all the speakers blaring and was singing along in that particular way that only a true fan can. To Boney M. He was also clearly wearing a Ray Martin Style wig. Although I'm not sure that I should really include this. It's almost normal for taxi drivers to be a little odd in Sydney.
Yesterday's actually happened outside of my usual observation zone, and might not actually be a strange thing for most people. See I actually have an uncommon surname. So I was very surprised last night to be ordering pizza and order it from someone who said they had the same surname. Not as surprised as him. Still, it obviously was a pleasant surprise for him, as he threw in a couple of free orders of garlic bread!
This morning has been all a bit strange as I was facilitating for a workforce management discussion group in North Sydney. First was the earlier than usual start, second the extra fuss involved in extra train tickets, third having to change trains without going outside to have a look at the TV screens and find out what platform I was supposed to be on, fourth, not having the address and directions on me so having to make a bit of a guess, fourth it being a bit of a longer and uphill walk than I expected, and the weather being far warmer than forecasted so turning up nice and sweaty and a little flustered.
Hmm. I guess I was my own freaky thing to observe this morning!
P.S. Tried to upload a stunning picture of Boney M in their hey-day to complement this posting, but the upload thing seems ot be on the fritz again. Feel free to imagine the stage performance complete with skin tight glittering lycra, capes and afros. And the backnig singers with weird cape kind of things coming down from their afros.
For a while I started writing them down, in order to prove my theory, but since I never really did anything with them and nobody else was interested, I stopped after a while.
The last couple of days, however, I do seem to have had a few stand-out freaky things cross my path.
On Tuesday night I was heading home, to find an iron sitting forlorn and alone under the dark footbridge near my house. Out and about looking for a nice lady iron perhaps?
On Wednesday night I was out for a few drinks to farewell Sandy. My taxi driver on the way home was an interesting fellow. He had all the speakers blaring and was singing along in that particular way that only a true fan can. To Boney M. He was also clearly wearing a Ray Martin Style wig. Although I'm not sure that I should really include this. It's almost normal for taxi drivers to be a little odd in Sydney.
Yesterday's actually happened outside of my usual observation zone, and might not actually be a strange thing for most people. See I actually have an uncommon surname. So I was very surprised last night to be ordering pizza and order it from someone who said they had the same surname. Not as surprised as him. Still, it obviously was a pleasant surprise for him, as he threw in a couple of free orders of garlic bread!
This morning has been all a bit strange as I was facilitating for a workforce management discussion group in North Sydney. First was the earlier than usual start, second the extra fuss involved in extra train tickets, third having to change trains without going outside to have a look at the TV screens and find out what platform I was supposed to be on, fourth, not having the address and directions on me so having to make a bit of a guess, fourth it being a bit of a longer and uphill walk than I expected, and the weather being far warmer than forecasted so turning up nice and sweaty and a little flustered.
Hmm. I guess I was my own freaky thing to observe this morning!
P.S. Tried to upload a stunning picture of Boney M in their hey-day to complement this posting, but the upload thing seems ot be on the fritz again. Feel free to imagine the stage performance complete with skin tight glittering lycra, capes and afros. And the backnig singers with weird cape kind of things coming down from their afros.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Quick Update
It's ridiculously busy here with impending deadlines all over the place, so I'm afraid this won't be lengthy. In fact, you may have to put up with a dot-point posting....
- The cold wasn't as bad as first thought
- The weekend was pretty good - first one I've had at home without visitors for ages
- I have a new flatmate...How that came about is another story so will have to wait
- Good luck to Sandy, who's off to Cape York for a month to work with the indigenous communities there. You'll be great, have a great time, and I'm proud of how brave you are (and how little you actually packed after all the angst!)
- This week is complete craziness work-wise. There are literally not enough hours in the day at the moment!
- Thank God for Cecilia! Despite being given only a sketchy, rushed and piecemeal introduction to the role, she's doing a great job already, and actually doing a pretty good job of understanding me as I ramble and mumble my way through trying to explain what I'm doing.
- Yay! Ronene's back on Friday. Well, yay for me, but probably not for her (and not just because she's bringing me duty-free!) Can't wait to have her back - it's really not the same if one of my girls is away...
- Welcome Daryl who is visiting from Melbourne for a few days. It seems they'll let anyone into the building these days... ;-)
J.
Friday, August 18, 2006
That impending sense of doom
My throat isn't sore yet, but it does feel like it's coated with dirt
I have taken off and put back on my jacket about 20 times today
My nose is starting to run.
All my joints are feeling a bit achey
And my head is pounding.
I've dosed up on vitamins and echinacea and have moved onto mild painkillers, but I have a suspicion this weekend is going to involve staying in bed with a cold.
Bugger.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Update to Humble...
Although I'm still eating Humble pie, apparently I'm not in too much trouble since the accident of height has meant that only inordinately tall people can tell.
Gulp. Whew. (almost relieved)
Gulp. Whew. (almost relieved)
Cheers to...
...Who chose to replace my broken bag today, even though I was one day over the 30-day return period. flexibility and a committment to customer service are great to see in this day and age. I'll be a long-term customer for sure.
J.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
What the???
OK, I just don't get it. We managed to get away for a lovely weekend in the small town of Berry (down near Nowra) for the weekend. Having been there before, we dutifully headed off to our favourite pub. I really like this pub. It's quirky and interesting, and the staff are always willing to have a chat and all the locals who frequent it are just as friendly.I'm really just not sure what the deal is with people who put dead and stuffed animals up on their walls and ceilings as decorations.
This place is filled with them. All sorts of them. There are deer and cows and a formidable looking bull.Our noble national animals (never got that concept of having national animals and flowers and stuff, but that's another story) appear stuffed side by side in all their splendour. And there's a monkey dressed in red pants and shirt playing the banjo up next to a moose head (I think, it wasn't one of the taxidermist's best jobs, that one).
On the roof (sorry, my picture of that one didn't work out due to
the lights on the ceiling) was a mighty black bear-skin. Resplendent king of the woods reduced to the indignity of a rug that's not even on the floor.Can anyone explain? Is this as ridiculous as it seems, or am I being an oversensitive free love & mung beans hippy vegetarian on this one?
Pros and Cons
So the new building is now a reality, the boxes are unpacked and the dust has settled.
As with every change in life, there are going to be some advantages and some disadvantages, as well as a few hiccups during the transition. I thought I might share a few things and you can decide which category they fall into (some may depend on your perspective).
As with every change in life, there are going to be some advantages and some disadvantages, as well as a few hiccups during the transition. I thought I might share a few things and you can decide which category they fall into (some may depend on your perspective).
- The Queen of clumsy apparently can't even be at her new desk for half an hour without spilling a glass of cranberry juice all over the place (OK, this one's a hiccup, whichever way you look at it)
- The new desks are substantially smaller and storage space is at a premium.
- The view is sensational (not so good if you're afraid of heights, though, I'd imagine)
- You're pretty much right in the thick of the weather (except not actually outside). So the huge thunderstorm / lightning storm / hailstorm that happened this afternoon (see http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/winter-suddenly-wallops-sydney/2006/08/15/1155407798255.html for more details) and was then followed by this:
- I know not everyone likes storms, but it was pretty amazing. The sunset afterwards was also spectacular, but I managed to fill up my camera memory and didn't get the photos cleared off in time to capture that particular moment. I'm sure there'll be other opportunities
- Hi to Karen from Melbourne (originally Tassie) who has been one of my best mates since I was 12. She was in Sydney for a rare stop-over today and caught up with me for lunch, reminding me how close we are to the Slipp Inn (no Princes there today, unfortunately!)
- I'm sitting back close to my old team. Good news for me as they're a funny old bunch. You'd have to ask them what sort of news it is from their perspective!
- I still haven't got the whole food thing sorted. Being a committed veggie (no, not committed that way, even if I arguably deserve it at times!), having to change my regular eating spots can be quite daunting and I've kind of chickened out so far.
- The kitchen is awesome. Actual matching crockery, cutlery and glasses. Plus Fisher & Paykel double dish-drawers (the same dishwasher I just had put in at my place because it is, without compare, the best dishwasher in the world today), plus big fridges (yes - plural!) and proper recycling facilities and 2 microwaves (that aren't so ancient that the display is in roman numerals).
- The removalists leaving behind our magnetic sasco year planner. How can we possibly plan our year without it???
- Having to learn how to use the new printer...Closely related to the definite bonus of having a printer that has had new toner at some point during the last decade, and doesn't chew more paper than it prints. (ditto for the photocopier)
- Having to get used to the whole train thing again. Somehow getting off at the wrong station on my first morning - a station I've never actually used regularly instead of one that I used to get off at every day. How does that work? I even make myself wonder sometimes. Plus rail tickets have gone up in price recently and are more expensive than bus tickets. Grr.
- The cool new mobile phone holder that came in the welcome pack that flashes pretty colours when my phone rings (I think it's supposed to encourage people to put their phones on silent). OK, small things amuse me.
So all in all, not a bad trade. Ask me in a couple of weeks when I've had a chance to rearrange my desk. It's become painfully obvious that my first attempt at optimal set-up has failed miserably (shelves behind the monitor not such a good idea in hind-sight), but moving all those cables and laptop locks etc is kind of daunting. I'll wait until a nice quiet Friday afternoon when procrastinating seems the best option.
J.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Humble pie.
Yep. I'll publically admit it. I'm most definitely in the girlfriend bad-books.
There may have been a slight incident on the weekend. It may have involved me helping trim around the edges of newly clippered hair.
It may possibly even have involved me slipping a little and it could have resulted in a tiny bit of a bald patch.
Oops.
Sorry!
In my own defense...who lets someone as clumsy as me near them with sharp objects?? Did I mention I managed to spill cranberry juice on my desk within about 30 minutes of occupying my new office?
There may have been a slight incident on the weekend. It may have involved me helping trim around the edges of newly clippered hair.
It may possibly even have involved me slipping a little and it could have resulted in a tiny bit of a bald patch.
Oops.
Sorry!
In my own defense...who lets someone as clumsy as me near them with sharp objects?? Did I mention I managed to spill cranberry juice on my desk within about 30 minutes of occupying my new office?
The dog ate my homework
OK, so I've been absent from the blog for a couple of days. Sorry. I have some really good excuses.
First my Grandma passed away and I had to go to Adelaide for the funeral (yes, I'm from Tassie originally, but that's only because my parents are where I got my nomadic genes from). It was a lovely day, celebrating the life of a strong and determined woman who had a good innings (so to speak) and passed away peacefully at the age of 89.
Then I got back to the shenanigans of moving office. Friday involved putting all the rest of my stuff (and the absent boss's stuff too) into boxes, then having to be out of the old office by 1pm so going off to have a lovely lunch in the sun.
Then today was unpacking, trying to get everything to work, trying to work out where the bathrooms were, and contemplating how much fun fire-drill are going to be when you sit on the 31st floor.
So with all that going on, I'm possibly a little behind in my work and not necessarily finding time for a quick post on my lunch-break. I promise to be back soon.
In other news - Yay!!! Cecilia's back. Primarily a good thing because she's been kind of stuck in Lebanon for the past 6 weeks, and secondarily because she's joining the team and giving me a well-needed hand over the next couple of weeks. (I promise those are in that order, truly they are!)
J.
First my Grandma passed away and I had to go to Adelaide for the funeral (yes, I'm from Tassie originally, but that's only because my parents are where I got my nomadic genes from). It was a lovely day, celebrating the life of a strong and determined woman who had a good innings (so to speak) and passed away peacefully at the age of 89.
Then I got back to the shenanigans of moving office. Friday involved putting all the rest of my stuff (and the absent boss's stuff too) into boxes, then having to be out of the old office by 1pm so going off to have a lovely lunch in the sun.
Then today was unpacking, trying to get everything to work, trying to work out where the bathrooms were, and contemplating how much fun fire-drill are going to be when you sit on the 31st floor.
So with all that going on, I'm possibly a little behind in my work and not necessarily finding time for a quick post on my lunch-break. I promise to be back soon.
In other news - Yay!!! Cecilia's back. Primarily a good thing because she's been kind of stuck in Lebanon for the past 6 weeks, and secondarily because she's joining the team and giving me a well-needed hand over the next couple of weeks. (I promise those are in that order, truly they are!)
J.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
The Endless e-tag Epic
Another thing I did with my day off was to finally get around to organising a e-tag for my car. For my non-Sydney based readers, an e-tag is an electronic gadget that you hang in your windscreen that you use to pay tolls, rather than having to go through the slow booths and hand over coins. I've been meaning to do this for some time, but it kind of became more imperative after my fist experiences with the new M7 freeway on the weekend. The M7 doesn't have toll booths at all. If you don't have an e-tag you have to ring up or go online within 48 hours and pay via credit card. As I don't have the internet at home and also only have a mobile number, this can become a very expensive exercise, plus I use the toll roads just enough to make it worth my while having a tag.
So anyway, after paying my M7 tolls from the weekend, I asked the operator about e-tags. She told me to go into my local post office and they would fix me up with one.
Given that it was a Bank Holiday (did I mention that it was a Bank Holiday on Monday?) and therefore everything was still open whilst I had the day off, I decided to get it over and done with right away.
So off I trotted to the Annadale Post Office.
Well, you'd think I'd gone in there asking the woman behind the counter for directions to Batman's secret bat-cave. I don't know about you, but I generally expect people to know how to do their job. Clearly there were a lot of things left off this particular postal worker's induction training. Including how to set up an e-Tag account (amongst other things).
After searching and finding a form in the rack, I dutifully filled it in, reading all the questions thoroughly and making sure I knew what I wanted. I then returned to the counter.
Well, the whole process seemed like it should have been fairly straightforward to me. The questions on the computer screens she was filling out seemed to align perfectly with the order of the fields I had completed on my application form.
So why, I ask you, do you think she felt the need to ask me every single question??? Wasn't that kind of the point of completing the form?? Plus given that she was now receiving all information from my spoken responses, rather than reading them off my form, I now had to spell my name, the street name from my address, my suburb, and my mother's best friend's guinea pig's maiden name. All the whilst having to listen to her tell me about 15 times during the conversation how she hadn't done this before (you don't say????). You have no idea how long this went on. Actually I'm not sure I really do either, as it felt as though I had been sucked into a time vortex for the agonising period of time I was stuck there.
Then, after me completing it on the form, and the employee-of-the-month asking me at the start or the form, she double checked which option I had chosen (there are 3 choices - 2 automatic debit ones, and a manual payment one - and I had opted for the manual payment plan) by making sure it was the automatic direct debit I had selected. AAAAARRRRFGGGGGGHHHHHH!!@!!!!!!!! Isn't automatic the direct opposite of manual???????
Anyway, I eventually got it sorted. Although I have a strong suspicion I could have taken control of her PC and completed the whole process far more quickly and far less painfully.
Surely it's not rocket science?? I'm not vain enough to think that my intellect is so far in exccess of that of the generaly populace that something might seem simple to me that is actually quite difficult for most people. I'm pretty sure any reasonable person should have been able to manage the task of typing the details from completed fields on a form into a computer.
What planet was this woman raised on?????
Grumble, grumble, grumble.
J.
So anyway, after paying my M7 tolls from the weekend, I asked the operator about e-tags. She told me to go into my local post office and they would fix me up with one.
Given that it was a Bank Holiday (did I mention that it was a Bank Holiday on Monday?) and therefore everything was still open whilst I had the day off, I decided to get it over and done with right away.
So off I trotted to the Annadale Post Office.
Well, you'd think I'd gone in there asking the woman behind the counter for directions to Batman's secret bat-cave. I don't know about you, but I generally expect people to know how to do their job. Clearly there were a lot of things left off this particular postal worker's induction training. Including how to set up an e-Tag account (amongst other things).
After searching and finding a form in the rack, I dutifully filled it in, reading all the questions thoroughly and making sure I knew what I wanted. I then returned to the counter.
Well, the whole process seemed like it should have been fairly straightforward to me. The questions on the computer screens she was filling out seemed to align perfectly with the order of the fields I had completed on my application form.
So why, I ask you, do you think she felt the need to ask me every single question??? Wasn't that kind of the point of completing the form?? Plus given that she was now receiving all information from my spoken responses, rather than reading them off my form, I now had to spell my name, the street name from my address, my suburb, and my mother's best friend's guinea pig's maiden name. All the whilst having to listen to her tell me about 15 times during the conversation how she hadn't done this before (you don't say????). You have no idea how long this went on. Actually I'm not sure I really do either, as it felt as though I had been sucked into a time vortex for the agonising period of time I was stuck there.
Then, after me completing it on the form, and the employee-of-the-month asking me at the start or the form, she double checked which option I had chosen (there are 3 choices - 2 automatic debit ones, and a manual payment one - and I had opted for the manual payment plan) by making sure it was the automatic direct debit I had selected. AAAAARRRRFGGGGGGHHHHHH!!@!!!!!!!! Isn't automatic the direct opposite of manual???????
Anyway, I eventually got it sorted. Although I have a strong suspicion I could have taken control of her PC and completed the whole process far more quickly and far less painfully.
Surely it's not rocket science?? I'm not vain enough to think that my intellect is so far in exccess of that of the generaly populace that something might seem simple to me that is actually quite difficult for most people. I'm pretty sure any reasonable person should have been able to manage the task of typing the details from completed fields on a form into a computer.
What planet was this woman raised on?????
Grumble, grumble, grumble.
J.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
An evil conspiracy
Does anyone else get the feeling that some things are really a lot more difficult than they should be?
My dryer hasn't been working properly. I hardly ever use the thing, but on occasion it would be handy to have it working. so when Dad was visiting, he pulled it down off the wall, undid the back and discovered the problem was simply a broken belt. Easy to fix...or so I thought.
So off we trundled to Bunnings. The home of all things fix-it...or so I thought. Apparently they don't stock large appliance repair items.
Then off to do some grocery shopping, where we think it might be a good idea to stop into Harvey Norman, where they sell large appliances, including the same brand dryer as mine. Surely they have an idea of how to service what they sell...or so I thought. Apparently not. The helpful salesman did refer me to a repair place at a particular address on Parramatta Rd in Ashfield. He couldn't actually tell me what it was called, but he looked like he knew what he was talking about so I believed him.
I didn't get a chance to go to Ashfield for a week or so (I'm a busy person, OK) but thought that I'd take advantage of the bank holiday and head on over. The mission started quite well, and the place was easy to find and even had its own parking (although using the same narrow ramp as both entry and exit to an underground car-park seems a little risky to me).
So in I go, clutching my broken dryer belt tightly in my hot little hand. Surely these guys would be able to help me. All the signs say promising things like "appliance repairs", "washing machines, dryers, fridges and freezers" and "Simpson, Hoover, Electrolux". Well, I was wrong about this one too. They told me to call the manufacturer directly.
So I left it a couple of hours, since I didn't really have a phone book handy and nobody at that place offered me the number. During a stop off at the post office a bit later that day (ooh...I left that one off the previous post. And actually I think its probably worth its very own post for the dramas that took) Sandy was waiting around whilst I tried to organise an e-tag, so she looked up the phone number for me.
So I rang up, during the middle of the day on an uncapped mobile (I no longer have a land line due to the fact that I almost never use on these days). Tangent - did you know that Simpson, Electrolux, kelvinator, chef, dishlex, westinghouse & hoover are all the same company???? Talk about the illusion of choice! and waited on the line for over 5 minutes before giving up and deciding to ring on Tuesday.
I rang today and the lady was very helpful. "Yes, you can order a new part. You can get it from one of our spare parts suppliers" of course, none of whom are conveniently located for my neck of the woods. The alternative was for her to order it for me. The part costs $15.99. The cost of sending it out to me would be $15.00.
Guess I'm up for another drive on the weekend.
J.
My dryer hasn't been working properly. I hardly ever use the thing, but on occasion it would be handy to have it working. so when Dad was visiting, he pulled it down off the wall, undid the back and discovered the problem was simply a broken belt. Easy to fix...or so I thought.
So off we trundled to Bunnings. The home of all things fix-it...or so I thought. Apparently they don't stock large appliance repair items.
Then off to do some grocery shopping, where we think it might be a good idea to stop into Harvey Norman, where they sell large appliances, including the same brand dryer as mine. Surely they have an idea of how to service what they sell...or so I thought. Apparently not. The helpful salesman did refer me to a repair place at a particular address on Parramatta Rd in Ashfield. He couldn't actually tell me what it was called, but he looked like he knew what he was talking about so I believed him.
I didn't get a chance to go to Ashfield for a week or so (I'm a busy person, OK) but thought that I'd take advantage of the bank holiday and head on over. The mission started quite well, and the place was easy to find and even had its own parking (although using the same narrow ramp as both entry and exit to an underground car-park seems a little risky to me).
So in I go, clutching my broken dryer belt tightly in my hot little hand. Surely these guys would be able to help me. All the signs say promising things like "appliance repairs", "washing machines, dryers, fridges and freezers" and "Simpson, Hoover, Electrolux". Well, I was wrong about this one too. They told me to call the manufacturer directly.
So I left it a couple of hours, since I didn't really have a phone book handy and nobody at that place offered me the number. During a stop off at the post office a bit later that day (ooh...I left that one off the previous post. And actually I think its probably worth its very own post for the dramas that took) Sandy was waiting around whilst I tried to organise an e-tag, so she looked up the phone number for me.
So I rang up, during the middle of the day on an uncapped mobile (I no longer have a land line due to the fact that I almost never use on these days). Tangent - did you know that Simpson, Electrolux, kelvinator, chef, dishlex, westinghouse & hoover are all the same company???? Talk about the illusion of choice! and waited on the line for over 5 minutes before giving up and deciding to ring on Tuesday.
I rang today and the lady was very helpful. "Yes, you can order a new part. You can get it from one of our spare parts suppliers" of course, none of whom are conveniently located for my neck of the woods. The alternative was for her to order it for me. The part costs $15.99. The cost of sending it out to me would be $15.00.
Guess I'm up for another drive on the weekend.
J.
The beauty that is a Bank Holiday
Bank holiday has got to be the best public holiday around (assuming you work for a bank, that is). I love it. It has all the advantages of a regular public holiday such as:
- Not having to go to work
- Being able to sleep in
- Not having to go to work
- Doing whatever you want
Plus, it also has added advantages such as:
- Other people still have to work (am I being smug in yet another post?)
- Everything is still open (apart from banks, of course)
- Nothing is closed
- No public holiday surcharges on menus
What more can a girl ask, really?
So I guess what you're wondering now, is what I actually did with my day off. Even if your not, I'm going to tell you.
- I actually didn't get a sleep in. I started my day early thanks to the efforts of an unnamed someone who did have to go to work so thought I should be awake when he woke up.
- Lying in bed dozing and watching morning TV until the desire for a cup of tea became all-consuming
- Lazy breakfast. Lazy getting ready in my own time.
- Picked up by Sandy to go shopping (yep, that's right. All the shops were open!)
- Out to Ashfield on a futile mission that I'll have to make a separate post on if I want to avoid going on too much of a tangent in this one.
- Back to Sandy's so I could borrow a small suitcase as I'm going to Adelaide overnight tomorrow and I thought my huge suitcase was a bit much. Plus, I managed to kind of bend the pull-out handle on it a bit after falling down an escalator on top of it at Melbourne airport a couple of months ago. Don't ask. (I have issues with escalators - "stairways to doom" I saw them referred to on one of those current affairs shows, and I can well understand why)
- Out to lunch at the Nag's Head (http://www.nagshead.com.au) where I had the most divine goat's cheese risotto - and spotted a number of other highly appealing vegetarian options on the menu.
- Back to my place for hot chocolate, doonahs and a DVD (and evenpossibly a little bit of napping)
- Dinner - I invented a new recipe for low-fat vegetarian shepherd's pie which I have to say turned out pretty damn well.
- Off to bed at 8.30 (it had been a hard day!)
Ahh...I love bank holiday.
J.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Smug
I read an article in the Sydney Morning Herald a while back about traffic and pedestrian crossings in the Sydney CBD and greater metropolitan area.
Apparently, our style of traffic control is biased towards vehicular traffic, rather than pedestrian traffic, especially during the daytime.
So the upshot of this fascinating piece of trivia, is that (unbeknownst to most Sydney CBD pedestrians) all pedestrian crossings are set to automatic in the Sydney CBD between 7am and 7pm every weekday. To spell it out for you, those pedestrian crossing buttons don’t work!!!
I don’t really know what the worst thing about this is. Do you think it’s the fact that we’re all being quietly deceived? Or the fact that I feel smug and superior whenever I see someone futilely (not sure of the grammar on that, oh well.) pushing one of those buttons when I stopped years ago?
What do you think? Does that make me a bad person?
J.
Apparently, our style of traffic control is biased towards vehicular traffic, rather than pedestrian traffic, especially during the daytime.
So the upshot of this fascinating piece of trivia, is that (unbeknownst to most Sydney CBD pedestrians) all pedestrian crossings are set to automatic in the Sydney CBD between 7am and 7pm every weekday. To spell it out for you, those pedestrian crossing buttons don’t work!!!
I don’t really know what the worst thing about this is. Do you think it’s the fact that we’re all being quietly deceived? Or the fact that I feel smug and superior whenever I see someone futilely (not sure of the grammar on that, oh well.) pushing one of those buttons when I stopped years ago?
What do you think? Does that make me a bad person?
J.
Shock! Horror!
I love horror movies. I know the kind of thing that you're either into or you're not, so if you one of those people who's not, I don't expect you to understand (in fact you may think me a little mad).But I love them. All the way back to the first real horror movie (in my humble opinion, subjective as it may be), the fist version of Night of the Living Dead, a good old-fashioned zombie movie.
I love all the classics - The Exorcist of course, the Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween series, anything with vampires (but especially Salem's Lot
and Lost Boys). I love the old fashioned horror movies, the B-Grade 80s horrors (yeah, especially those) and the modern take on things such as the Scream series and Saw. I love the suspenseful psychological horror movies such as The Omen series and the gory ones with ominous titles like The Dentist.So the question, I suppose, is why?
I love horror movies because they are at the same time both predictable and random. You can usually amuse yourself by feeling mentally superior over the fact that you can pick what order the disposable characters are going to die in, and at the same time, still be scared into jumping out of your seat by an unexpected cat jumping out of a cupboard at a suspenseful moment (a common red herring trick, by the way).
On that topic, I like those "fright" moments, and the adrenalin rush that goes along with them, making you feel on edge, and therefore enjoying the rest of the movie better.
I love the fact that you can walk out and know (in your head, at least, even if maybe not all of you believes it for a little while) that there really aren't any vampires waiting for me (I hope), and that I'm unlikely to be atttacked by Zombies in my home that evening. Or at least that I'd know what to do if they did.
Bring on the gore!
J.
Updated pictures
I've finally had some time to get a few personal things done with the forecast push today (if you don't know what that is, don't worry, but suffice it to say, it is long and boring and repetitive).
So I've updated my photo and photo diary sites. If you're interested and fancy a look, check them out at the following locations:
http://gallery129166.fotopic.net/
http://hotoiary.fotopic.net/
Hope you enjoy the window into my life
J.
So I've updated my photo and photo diary sites. If you're interested and fancy a look, check them out at the following locations:
http://gallery129166.fotopic.net/
http://hotoiary.fotopic.net/
Hope you enjoy the window into my life
J.
Eggheads
If you check back through the archives to the 6th of June this year, you'll discover that I take my breakfasts very seriously, particularly the eggs, and particularly the cooking of the eggs.
Seems I'm not the only one!
http://www.discover.com/issues/feb-06/features/cooking-for-eggheads/
J.
Seems I'm not the only one!
http://www.discover.com/issues/feb-06/features/cooking-for-eggheads/
J.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Thanks to my girls
Sorry boys, tune out now if your eyes are glazing over, but this post is a tribute to my girls.
Every girl's got to have her girlfriends. People to laugh and cry with, to share thoughts, hopes, dreams and disappointments. They pick you up when you're down and hear you out when you just need to get things off your chest. In turn you get to share in their special moments and be there when they need you. They don't judge you, but know you well enough to tell you when you're wrong, and they help you find your way when you're confused and lost.
I don't what I'd do without my girls. Thanks for everything - you know who you are.
J.
Every girl's got to have her girlfriends. People to laugh and cry with, to share thoughts, hopes, dreams and disappointments. They pick you up when you're down and hear you out when you just need to get things off your chest. In turn you get to share in their special moments and be there when they need you. They don't judge you, but know you well enough to tell you when you're wrong, and they help you find your way when you're confused and lost.
I don't what I'd do without my girls. Thanks for everything - you know who you are.
J.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
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