merry x-mas

This is all I gots today.

Oh boy! Excitement! And bad stuff...

Ok. Lets start with the fun stuff. It is THE SEASON as well we all know, and I am always caught slightly off guard by all of the things that happen. Like, "Oh yeah... Boxing day. Thats right", and, "Oh yeah... decorations around the city. I had forgotten about that". Well, the one I am having today is, "Oh yeah! Holiday release films!! I had TOTALLY FORGOTTEN about them!". And in particular ... Harry Potter is out next week. Oh hurrah!! For the anticipation of a Harry Potter film is one of the best things, with actually seeing the film using falling somewhere below having a kick in the bum in my list of fun things to do (as regular as the excitement is the disappointment I am afraid). But still. Hurrah!!!! It is next week ...

Now for the … well .. not so happy-happy joy-joy stuff. I am seriously thinking about quitting my job. I simply don’t want to be here anymore and it is eating my soul like some sort of soul-eating job monster. Not very pleasant. The clock is ticking. At the moment the “considered Tangles” quits her job in mid December. The “unconsidered Tangles” quits this afternoon (no, that won’t ACTUALLY happen). I will need to buy a computer first, me thinks, so that I can download porn while unemployed. Otherwise, dear chaps, what is the point? What, indeed…

And... back to happy!! with a picture of Harry Potter and the goblet of fire (oooooooooh!)

You know... that tennis player... "Never-had-a-pavlova"

The "silly" season gets downright ludicrous

‘Tis the season indeed. ‘Tis the season to be either stressed out of ones head, or downright bored. Drunk on free booze, or, well, drunk on free booze. There is no getting around it, really. Nevertheless, I have gotten around it today; another industry event scheduled for tonight turns out to be being held in sunny Melbourne. More pity them, I am sure.

Crap I am bored. I am working on a stupid report on ecommerce that is failing miserably to entertain me. Maybe I should go and join a circus. I have heard that they are entertaining.

Will report in soon if anything interesting happens.

If I said you had a beautiful body...

From the golden font of knowledge, wikipedia, I give you...

One of the earliest examples of double entendre in American culture was the late 19th-century vaudeville act, the Barrison Sisters. They danced, raising their skirts slightly and asking the audience: "Would you like to see my pussy?" After an enthusiastic response, they would raise up their skirts, revealing live kittens secured over their crotches.

The Barrison Sisters reveal kittens beneath their skirts, at the conclusion of their notorious vaudeville cat dance, c. 1890s.


Oh mirth. And who, in their right minds, wouldn't respond enthusiastically to those girls? Hmmm?

…the sweet joys of voyeurism.

I have just become a paying member of last.fm, which, for the forgetful or uninitiated, is a website with super powers in the music department. A non-paying member can track their listening taste, listen to streaming “similar artist” radio, and pursue the tastes of their friends and musical neighbours and discover the hidden depravity of the former and gems of wisdom from the latter.

Now, while all of that has been entertaining me no end over the last couple of months, there are certain things that have been chaffing slightly. “Similar artist” radio can be a little too broad (so many freakin artists) and simultaneously too narrow (too many freaking artists that ALL sound the SAME). But a paid up member can go one of their neighbours and listen to their “loved tracks”, thus looking over their shoulder interweb-wise, and getting a healthily diverse range of music thrown at you from cyberspace which doesn’t necessarily sound like pavement AT ALL (I have noticed that all Indie roads seem to lead Pavement, er, that is, the band Pavement, not the concrete surface pavement). It also feels quite voyeuristic because it is such an unsolicited invasion of someone’s personal music space. I LIKE it.

Now, if you have understood half of what I have just said, then, “Well done you”. I, for one, haven’t. But I do know that I am having a lot of fun.
Also, I am currently minding three turkey chicks. I fed them boiled egg this morning. This means only one thing – my parents are in town and they have brought their own personal circus.

Mushaboom.

I gotta girl crush on Feist. Here is a picture. At least, I guess, if I am to get a girl crush it is nice that she is photogenic. Feist, by the way, wrote the track Mushaboom which has me wandering around intoning, “mushaboom … mushaboom… " a lot.

Last night I went to an “industry event”. The pizza was very nice, the wine was plentiful, the night was late, and the headache predictable.

At the event was a weird german clown and a man making pizza. Both of them, rather than performing as such, wandered around teaching people their craft. Maybe they wanted out. An overheard phone conversation went something like this;

Man, “Yes… there is a funny German clown and a man making pizza”.

Friend, “Are you on acid”.

Man, “No… I just work in the IT industry”.

Last night I rediscovered my slightly startling ability to juggle. I have always been surprised by my talent cause I have never practiced juggling. I just picked up three oranges when I was in high school and thought, "Juggle". And up they went. I remembered this sometime during uni (Mat, do you remember me throwing oranges around the flat?) and it worked again. Last night, pissed, I remembered I could juggle and said to clown, "Here. Give me them". He obliged. I had a brief moments panic thinking, “Chia … you can’t actually juggle”. But then I just thought, “JUGGLE” and up they went. Always a surprising talent, that one. I must have been a clown in a former life. Or at least, very silly. Actually, what am I talking about. That is this life!! Oh dear. I am confused again. I think I am channelling a late great aunt who was demented.

Bon voyage.

Arrrghhhhh hhhh

Extra "h"s there cause today *hurts*.

Newtown festival yesterday and much madness. Stuff you wouldn't read about, primarily because noone in their right mind would write about all of it. Some that is fit to print includes;

* Chia giving Mat a generous hand with his bottle of bourbon and coke.

* Getting dusty at the 2SER tent.

* Spending a hell of a lot of time finding people

* Bumping into friends not seen for nigh on 5 years (jo and Dave for anyone that that means anything to. And if you are one of those, then you will probably go, “Really!!?”. To which I reply, “Yes, really!”).

* Watching only 15 of an actual band playing music

* Ending up at some dudes house with a bottle of Amil

* Chia and Marcy polishing off a bottle of pink bubbly
'
* Sitting on King St with Mat accusing people of being Irish and yelling, “Fiddle de deee” at them alot

* Chatting up dudes at the Zanzibar

* Taking over the top flour of @newtown and helping ourselves to alcoholic mixers (apparently bitters has some alcohol but you have to drink a fair to tell).

* Eating pies and calling them, “Roooooad pies!” for no particular reason.

* Getting home at 3am with my housemate locked out and on the front step fretting about his car.


Newtown will do that to you. Gosh darn. Dusty crazy Newtown, huh? Gotta love it.

Narrabeen yesterday (not mine)

Pretty, huh?

Witness the fitness

From this.....

To this.....

he he. I couldn't resist.

Now I ain't sayin shes a gold digger, but she ain't messin with no broke niggers

Geezy wiz. I would never have anticipated how one swollen engorged body part could so distract one from ones’ daily duties. This toe of mine has me reluctant to get out of bed in the morning, dreading the walk to work from the bus, and sitting at my computer whimpering and looking up dodgy websites. Who would have thought?

In other news, in a fit of decision I purchased a mobile phone over the interweb yesterday. It is quite a crappy number; just a black clunky-ish nokia, however the speaker works, which has it one giant leap ahead of my last handset technologically. It also has polyphonic ringtones. Currently when I am called it sounds like the 7.30 report theme song, which makes whatever I say next sounds sound much more relevant, pertinent and timely.

In breaking news … “Hi!”, “How are you?”, “Yeah … not bad!”, etc.

The downside is that I have a strong temptation to get some ultra crappy polyphonic theme song, like maybe the Black Eyed Peas,

“My hump. My hump. My hump, my hump, my hump. My lovely little lumps.. check it out.. you love my lady lumps … ” etc.

That would be good.

In keeping with my theme fruit, Bananas, I give you the following food item.

Featuring stark nudity on slick paper

I have a couple of new nicknames. You can choose to call me;

-> tangles

-> limpy

-> Miss Broken Toe

-> Miss “Way to play touch football drunk with no shoes, come arse up and nearly twist your toe off” O'Reilly

-> Miss “Grumpy, yoga-disabled, x-ray-ed, swollen blue toe, hung over and shitty” O'Reilly


Yep – any of the above now suit me to a “T”.

It was an eventful and rather tragic weekend that spilled over onto Monday due to the need to visit the doctor to repair damage done on Saturday (you can measure how good or bad a weekend was by the repair work necessary, I think).

Weekend prognosis;
-> Doctor says yoga not likely for at least a month

-> X-ray man says toe is not actually broken, although tendons could be dodgy

-> Housemates, friends, and work colleagues say, “Eeeeeew!!!”, “That looks NASTY!”, “Get it away from me!”, “Put some goddamn ice on it”, and other expressions of similar intent.

-> I say, well at least I have learnt an important lesson – don’t play touch foot ball with no shoes on drunk, albeit a searingly obvious lesson that you think would have come along as a free corrolory to other important lessons leant in the past (such as, “don’t take acid, drink loads of beer, and go rock hopping along the beach in the middle of the night” learnt nigh over two years ago).

GO Makybe!!

For those of you who are not in either Sydney or Melbourne at the moment - I will fill you in on a little local gos. The Melbourne Cup was yesterday - and Makybe Diva won it for the THIRD TIME IN A ROW. This has a number of jokeys VERY excited, and quite a few drunk people stumbling around this fair city. Now, normally I wouldn’t give a cobbler’s profanity, but it just so happens that I won the work sweepstake yesterday. In true Me style, I only purchased one ticket and begrudgingly at that. I was the first to draw, and out she came!! I walked away with a handsome $130 lining my pockets. Far from crying, “to the pub, my shout!!”, I walked coolly to the door with a, “So long suckers” swagger. It was a pretty cool win – very auspicious.

I also caught up with Warwick yesterday who was on a bit of a whirlwind Sydney tour. He was up over the weekend as well, but was off camping. Normally I would be all up for the camping thing, but the weekend just gone was an exercise in revelling in house-ly matters so recently resolved (ie sitting on the couch for extended periods watching Arrested Development).


I also find it interesting, although entirely off nearly any possible topic, to mention that if Bird Flu does what it apparently seems possible it will do (and that is cross with the human flu strains and become a highly contagious and very deadly cocktail flu), Australia has said that they will pretty much close off the Aussie borders to all international travel. How completely insane a concept. Very Armageddon style. I think I would head back to my parent’s place and commence a lifestyle entirely dependent on yoghurt, granola and barley pudding. Whats your plan? I would have a couple of seats in the back of my Astra, but you would have to bring your own granola.



And another thing.

What in hells name WAS going on in the 70's??