Monday, 24 June 2013

oh, say!

this past weekend I attended a geekfest known as "Supanove Pop Culture Expo".  I'm not even slightly ashamed to say I loved it beyond measure.  the place was crawling with thousands upon thousands of excellent nerdbergs, around half of whom were in full cosplay mode. who needs drugs?

while the young blokes in my company were diverted by the Nintendo stand, I did the fangirl thing and went to stare at modestly famous actors - who were lined up like cattle signing autographs for $30 a pop. which is utterly fucked, but anyway, I pretended to have a 'token' and stood in line for a closer scrutinisation of Alan Tudyk.  you've all heard of him haven't you?  no?  Firefly, dears. goofy pilot of the Serenity.  well he's a ginger isn't he, so I had to an inspection. he was orright, as it happens.  not a bad looking bloke.  hi Alan - I was the one who wasn't morbidly obese. middle aged chick in work boots?  remember?  you forgot to ask me for my cell phone number, you lovely ginger doofus.

some other famous peeps. a couple from torchwood, which is noice.  love a welshy.  carrie fisher was there, apparently, but the young blokes didn't want to look at the nanna.  fantastic day out amongst the peculiar.  loved every second of it :D

Some of these bricks explode

which reminds me ....

smoke stack reports an inability to attend for reasons beyond his control.  he remains daft and funny.

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Ah I see, Si (with a c)!

Chrissy Amphlett
Cover of Chrissy Amphlett
Ahhh hombre, all is not going as well as we planned, said Miguel, he's inflection rising at the end of the sentence. 

Casa di mi Padre is the greatest film never made replied Pedro cryptically, as his stead Pinto's head rose and fell in time with the duos gentle pace across the plains.

Pinto and Punto had carried them near and far since the days when Lady Gaga was seen gallivanting across the Himalayan high plains. Those are nothing compared to the Monaro High Plains of which that southern breed, the Australian, is so proud.

A Monaro 327 pillarless GTS roared passed as the driver slipped the marque into top gear, the wind catching Pedro and Miguel's bandanas, ruffling the peacock feather that Miguel had stuck in the band of his genuine imported rabbit fur Akubra as soon as they had landed onto the terra firma of their homeland, Terror Australis.

Ah Pedro, the roar of the bull at night as he dreams of his lovely bride. Just like the man who dreams of Danni, Kylie's sister.

Lady Gaga: Queen of Pop
Lady Gaga: Queen of Pop (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Yes, Miguel, the call of the wild. We learnt so much on our journey through South East Asia, and while everyone was splurging out on the latest 3D plasma TV and Surround Sound Bluetooth sound system we have been learning the ancient wisdom of the Far East to our North.

The world is a paradox, hey Pedro? It makes me laugh, he said laughing as Punto missed a step as Miguel rolled to the right still holding on tightly to the reins.

Yes, Miguel, the world is not as it seems.

They approached a large billboard on the side of the road of Danni with a large protruding belly.

Looks like someone's put a bun in her oven, said Pedro

Si, si, said Miguel, a tear rolling down his cheek. Perhaps Senor we have spent too long searching, always searching for the navel to gaze at...

You are right, old friend, our path has been arduous and long, much longer than I'd thought or hoped for. Who'd have suspected that we'd have a lady Prime minister in this fair country who is no lady at all. If only Kylie had been given a chance, or better still Chrissy Amphlett.

Que?

You know, the singer from way back when, when bands actually sang songs that you could hear the words to, because your hearing aid's batteries were not yet flat. You know, before Midnight Oil.

Ah si senor. I tink that that was what do you say a watership.

Yes, a watershed Miguel, a watershed, and now the Prime minister has had an abortion and I doubt that our path will ever end.

The two rode on along the plains through the wild flowers that spangled each side of the path they rode. Along side rocks were strewn carefully as if placed there by some great God intent on making the front page of Home Beautiful. Pinto and Punto were well worn by now, and our two heroes had put on some weight around the midriff, but still our faithful donkeys carried our loyal friends onwards towards their destiny...
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Thursday, 6 June 2013

a little from column a, and a little from column b

a half-arsed catch up.  you with moi, since you lot don't seem to post anymore.

finished the half year course - well, end of next week, but this week is a quiet one. let's just say I won't be doing that again in a hurry.  student life is grand, in many respects.  delightfully self indulgent and such.  campus life is novel for a week or three, too. then the backpack starts getting heavier, packed lunches start to taste a bit samey, the dirty dishes from brekkie are still there at 8pm, and mixing with 28 year old academics from well heeled families (hence the failure to earn their keep at age 28) gets old rool quick.

on the hacienda frontage, all the winter veg went in, amazingly.  thriving too, this year.  haven't had to buy spinach, brussels sprouts, parsnips, carrots, lettuce, beetroot, leeks, nor herbs yet this season.  yee haw! even my basil is still going, now that I've found a super sheltered north facing possy under a frost shielding shrub. kids are still growing, for some reason, and the elder of the two has been experimenting with lip and scoffing, now that he's in HS. the smaller one is still delightfully free from such experimentation for the foreseeable future (the next week or so). both have recently taken up fencing (the 'en guarde!' type, not the other kind involving posts and rails), which is a slightly arresting past-time.  still, it's nice to have kids who are able to vanquish an intruder with a sabre, should the need arise. and they do get to dress up like storm troopers every saturday for 2 hours.  that's apparently a good percentage of the appeal.

we're about thiiiiiiiiiiis much closer to run away and joining a commune, since you ask.  the rosey vista beckons eternally.  Tasmania keeps looking betterer and betterer. the only obstacle at this point being the storm troopers, who go a bit berzerker when the prospect is discussed out loud.  kids really REALLY hate the idea of poor old Taswegia, for some reason.   seems universal, too, as comrades with similarly aged kids seem to get the same response.  if you say "we're all going to live in Melbania, on a semi-urbany communey thingy but not quite in town!", it's "do we have to?". if same is said about Tassie it's "OH MY GOD .................NOOOOOOOOOO!" and is accompanied by full body flails and other theatrics.  it must seem like some sort of pergatorial banishment :/

drat, time to go.  back with more tomorrow.  because I can :p

having said that ...

wtf

just when I start to get some free time after half a year of sloggery, yooz have all buggered off. 

ha-bloody-rumph

again

bliss

Kid #1 is currently on a Woodstock jurney, and has been reading books about the politics etc behind the event, and listening up on some of the lesser known artists. This has seen us trawling the tube, and in amongst it all I found this. Had never seen this footage before, as it didn't make it to the WS film. My long time personal favourite of the 'unknowns', Bert Sommers.  Not exactly unknown NOW, but he certainly was then.  I've always loved this song, and his version of S&G's "America". The voice of seven angels, disappeared into obscurity right after WS, then died young.  Naturally.God would never let someone this beautiful and this talented live long.  It wouldn't be fair.

Put it on loud, and put it on repeat.  Then watch "The Voice" :p