Never Separate A Simple Man From His Cheese

Hanging out at TAFE institutes, or, That which I do in my spare time.

2011-11-09T17:06:00.000-08:00

So, I realise I haven't blogged in more or less forever, and in my defence that's been because of life. To begin with, due to the fact that my latin class (see my numerous posts titled 'The Week') have all graduated, my life is markedly less entertaining. This fact, combined with the fact that this year I finally finished the HSC (on a side note, A JIHAD ON THE BOARD OF STUDIES) meant that when I did actually do something worth blogging about, I was too busy to actually blog.

Anyway, yesterday was the day of the Art exam, the final exam of a mutual friend of myself and Isy. Isy and I decided that it would be marvellous fun if we were to surprise the aforementioned mutual friend, Angus, by turning up at the end of his exam. The busride back to the city and the time following offered up this conversational gem:

To begin with, Isy and I were discussing our respective post-HSC viewing lists, and I mentioned Torchwood: Miracle Day.
Isy: I heard that its only redeeming feature is all the gay sex.
Angus: Are you talking about Glee?

Of course, he had a point. The gays are the only reason I still watch Glee.

I also took my Brownie for a spin - Reginald now has two pictures sitting on film, waiting to be developed. I've also been working with some 1990s filmstock cameras I found at home. But, of course, the reels aren't done, so no photos until then.

But it'll happen. And when it does, they'll be here along with captions.

Stay classy.

A Night to Remember (Or, That Awkward Moment When the Encores go for Longer than the Second Half)

2011-09-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

So yesterday, I had some free tickets to see the Placido Domingo/Katherine Jenkins concert.

It was pleasant. It was a popera concert, and before you freak out too much, it was nothing like a concert of He-Who-Must-Not-Even-Be-Alluded-To-Let-Alone-Named (do yourself a favour and don't click the link).

There was some solid opera (for example it was 50 years to the day since Placido Domingo performed his first aria from Tosca, and then he performed it again and it was all terribly cute), and then there was some less solid opera. For example there was some West-Side Story.

But whatever works to keep the plebeians happy.

And whilst on the subject of keeping the plebeians happy, Katherine Jenkins. She had no fewer than four costume changes during the show. I cannot help but think that her gowns budget must be PHOENOMENAL.

My main beef stems from the encores. The concert had finished, and then Placido Domingo did an encore of some kind of spanish opera thingy. And then Katherine Jenkins sang Time to Say Goodbye, a song which she owns like her prison bitch, might I add. Then the orchestra played an overture. Then, since Placido Domingo was the headlining act, he sang again. But this time it was Besame Mucho - a tango standard. I was somewhat confused by that choice of closing piece.

I wasn't confused for long. Because on came Katherine Jenkins again. And she sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow. After Time to Say Goodbye, you can imagine how much of an anticlimax that was. And then of course the headlining act came back on for another song (we were back to opera by now). I though surely, we're done now.

Lol jks, we weren't. There was another duet, by which time I was expecting a nice rendition of Nessun Dorma to follow to round out the night.

There wasn't. They were actually legit done.

The encores ran for longer than the second half. Surely there's a law against that kind of thing.

Looking around the sitting room.

2011-09-25T03:28:00.000-07:00

Speedy disclaimer - you may have to physically click on the photos in order to view them.

There's a little nook between the window and the door, next to one of the sofas. In that nook, there's a chair, and a tuba. Music books are stacked against the wall, and there's some sheet music peeking out of the top of the tuba's bell. A cat is sitting in the open tuba case, looking altogether too much at home. The sofa has its back to a curved bank of windows. Sometimes a sousaphone hides in the space between the sofas and the windows, but not today.

If you look past Sophia being a fool, you can see the chair and some of the music.

The sofa is a mahogany colour which matches the bookcases (from IKEA) housing the encyclopaedia collection. You can see them in the background if you look past Monica being an even bigger fool.

Then there are the bookcases. There are four all up, going from the windows to the miniature alcohol collection. On top of the first, is a big old boom box, as well as a box of badges.

Inside the box of badges are all kinds of cool things, like this shovel:

And all these badges from gigs and rallies my dad went to:

There's a tape collection, filled with all kinds of art rock (anyone for 'Peter and the Wolf' read by David Bowie?), the bookshelves, the atlases and history books, the 1957 Encyclopaedia Britannica and a reproduction of the 1779 original Britannica. Books of the year, Funk and Wagnalls' encyclopaedia, Encyclopaedia Judaica and more art books. A vase from the Chinese government. Various nicknacks from trips overseas.

A set of porcelain bells, also from the Chinese government, stemming from back when dad did tax law consulting work with the World Bank.

Perpendicular to the third bookcase is the other sofa. It faces the other, and between the two is a table adorned with all the books we've been given, but never really read. Here we have (l-r) Monica, Sarah, Elsa and Mersini, reading them because we were in the middle of a power outage. On the far left, you can see part of a quilt, and in the background, the dining room. Taking up the fourth bookcase are the dictionaries. From an 1800s encyclopaedic monster to the bilingual ones in various and numerous languages, as well as (my favourite) the compact Oxford English Dictionary, printed four pages per view, and sold with an accompanying magnifying glass. you can just glimpse them past Mersini.

Then there's the miniature alcohol collection. Dad would bring them back from trips overseas, and some of them are quite unique.

Leaning against the unit housing the miniatures is dad's suitcase, which has sat there for the past eleven years. It still has the dried out pens and business cards which were in it when it was first laid to rest there, once it became apparent that it wasn't going to be used any more.

There's a light above the table. I hung a disco ball from it as a joke, and it stayed as a cutesie fixture.

Next to the tuba, on the other side of the entrance from the front of the house, is the piano, and a wingbacked armchair which is the perfect size for curling up with a decent book. Against the back wall is a violin and it's accoutrements, and next to the sofa is a bassoon and its trappings.

A teddy bear sits on the bottom octave of the piano, overseeing its realm.

Why I am the Best Older Sister EVER

2011-07-16T04:13:00.000-07:00

I spent a good hour and a half illegally appropriating photos of Deborah at nationals for Gymnastics.
Then I made a facebook photo album.
Because I am officially THE BEST SISTER IN EXISTENCE.

That and the fact that Deb is a bit of a ninja. Who planks like a boss. A boss whose pre-eminence floats all across the land of Mordor.

You can find that album here.

Bitch went there...

2011-07-13T22:37:00.000-07:00

I'm on tumblr now.

Who'd have thunk.

adelatur.tumblr.com

Dogs (or) Why I Have Stabby-Stabby-Murder-Face, but No-One Available to Stab

2011-07-13T16:44:00.001-07:00

In general, I have nothing against dogs. They can be pleasantly entertaining in some circumstances, and I'm sure they serve some discernible purpose. Well kind of, anyway.

I only bring this up because I'm currently looking after a dog while some family friends are on holiday. I hate this dog.

It's big and smelly and it jumps on me (something which I don't tolerate from animals which weigh more than about 7 kg and will thus leave a bruise) and it is possibly the least intelligent animal I have ever had the misfortune to meet.

It's four years old and STILL chases its tail. It barks ALL THE TIME. And worst of all, it slobbers. I tolerate drool from babies because I know they aren't harbouring any pathogens from masticating on raw meat and that mysterious clod of something it ate at the park on its walk, but I don't tolerate it from dogs for the reasons set out above.

"So why did you agree to do it in the first place?" I hear you ask.

The answer is that I didn't. The day before she left to take Deb to Perth for gymnastics, we had one of our (incredibly frequent) 'oh and by the way, I've said you're going to [insert verb] for [insert name] for [insert length of time]' conversations.

So now, I'm stuck looking after an idiot animal until saturday. I am unimpressed.

Also, did I mention that it scratches?

Pretensions

2011-07-13T04:22:00.000-07:00

Today I had a horrifying thought. Am I pretentious when it comes to music?

Admittedly, when it comes to classical music I'm more a fan of the darker stuff - deaf or nearly so Beethoven, Mozart at the end of his life when he was all dark, Jenkins for reasons I can't really understand - and when it comes to popular music, I'm the same. Metallica, Apocalyptica, Rammstein, Within Temptation, Iron Maiden, Kamelot, even the odd bit of Murderdolls.

Recently however, I've found that I'm liking more and more non metal. I quite like three of Adele's latest songs, I can listen to Christina Perri's Jar of Hearts on an endless loop, and there's one Florence + The Machine song which I love, I just don't know what it's called. Either way, this made me wonder. Am I truly a metalhead, or am I just fooling myself?

Am I just pandering to my pretensions that I'm more hardcore than that? Ought I give up and stop visiting Utopia (which is probably my favourite store after Dymocks Stationery - the cheapest place to get Calligraphy supplies)?

To test this theory, I went into JBHifi and purchased a CD. Lungs by Florence was $10. If I didn't like it, I could always just give it to my sister.

I stuck it in my computer and listened with trepidation.

As it turns out, I didn't like it. Cosmic Love was alright, but not really to my taste. All of the tracks sounded the same, with the same airy voice and electronic instrumentation. I'm not a pretentious ass. I genuinely dislike the majority of popular music. I don't know whether I should be pleased or disappointed. Who cares?

Either way, I'm off to cleanse my mind of all that ranga music by listening to some music which never fails to perk me up: Amour by Rammstein, Parliament of Fools by Skyclad, Sacra by Apocalyptica and what is probably my favourite piece of classical music: The Allegretto (mvt. 2) of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

Because as it turns out, I really am hardcore like that.

Harry Potter

2011-07-13T03:39:00.000-07:00

Today (it was midnight and all) I honoured the end of an era. I went to see Harry Potter 7 part 2. Not only that, I saw it in 3D.
This post will consist of three parts: The end of an era; Why are two dimensions insufficient; Six hours is a long time. I'm refraining from commenting on the plot and all that, because I don't entirely want to be that bitch who is constantly mind-raping you with spoilers. Regardless, I'm pretty darn sure that even if you haven't read the book (which you really ought to), you still know the rudiments of it.

Part the First - The End of an Era.

When HP1 came out, so very long ago, I was but a wee lass of seven [for the record, I use the word 'lass' in the Scots sense of small lady; not in the Adidas clad, going on Mainies and staunching sense]. Now, as the series ends, I am eighteen, having spent a goodly portion of my leisure time either reading the books (over and over), watching the movies or, most enjoyably, cracking up at the atrocious Fanfiction. Because there are some absolute shockers out there.

There were two movie series which defined my age group: the Toy Story trilogy (which I hear is about to do a Douglas Adams and release a fourth) and of course Harry Potter. In the same way I grew up alongside Andy, I grew up alongside Harry and his magical friends. I swooned over Robert Pattinson's pre-Edwardian hotness; I drooled over the 'bad boys' (Tom Felton, Young Tom Riddle and Young Snape); I generally questioned why Ginny, coming from such a lovely family, ended up being such a ho-bag.

But I digress. The point I'm trying to elucidate is the fact that we are at a turning point. The acoutrements of our childhood (like Harry Potter) are finished, to be replaced by whatever is going to define our age bracket now (I'm hoping True Blood). We're getting old.

Part the Second - Why Are Two Dimensions No Longer Sufficient?

It's no longer enough to merely watch a film or TV show. Now we have to have stuff flying at us and gettin' all up in our bidness as it were. I'm probably sounding like the grumpy old conservative that I am (I mean I certainly look the part - I'm wearing a blazer and pearls) but why can't we return to the good old days when the dividing line between entertainment and life was just that. A line. Because entertainment, in 2D was just a linear construct whereas real life was a spatial construct involving specific densities and volumetric displacements and all sorts of other fun geo-physical funsies.

Wow. That was a pretty darn nerdy rant.

Part the Third - Why One Really Ought to Avail Oneself of Internet Banking Facilities When Said Facilities Present Themselves.

I didn't. As a result, in order to be assured of tickets for the midnight showing, I arrived at Westfield Miranda at around 1800 and by 1830 I had four tickets to the midnight showing of HP7pt2, along with special edition Harry Potter glasses shaped 3D glasses.

By 1910 I was joined by Monica and Koby, and eventually (2040) we were joined by Meg - Monica's cousin, and a new addition to my internet exploits. There was nothing to do (and I really do mean nothing), and so we hung out like cool kids, judging the profusion of lads which seemed to be everywhere. We then got incredibly bored so we went on some mainies and staunched some bitchez.

I lie. We didn't.

We went for churros. Because we're hardcore like that.

By about 2130 we were hanging out outside the cinema. Which gradually filled with Shire dwellers, including lots of hipster boys who gave Mon and Koby 'lady boners' (their terminology, not mine), but just weren't my type. Because we all know what my type is...

Anyway. As the Shiries appeared in their varying levels of costuming (there was one girl who looked uncannily like HBC as Bellatrix. Snaps to her), we played Would You Rather. Because we had nothing better to do. Most of it was reasonably middle of the road, with the exception of two which were absolutely inspired. Were I still writing The Week (which I'm not because my life is too boring), they would most definitely be in there.

1) Monica to myself:
Would you rather One Time At Band Camp a Tuba, or verb of choice a goat.

2) Monica and myself to Koby:
Would you rather a dead Nick Jonas with a goat watching (N.B.: this goat has Riley's face), or that same goat with Nick Jonas watching.

As you can see, goats were for some reason quite a prevalent theme. Go figure.

My point in all this is to pre-order your tickets. Because that was six hours I'm never getting back.

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

2011-05-17T03:33:00.000-07:00

EVERYBODY!
SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

What is it with me neglecting to tell you how smashed I'd be if I were playing a drinking game as opposed to blogging?

32 shots. Well under the other two posts, but still remarkably wasted. Go figure.

Hier Kommt Die Semifinal

2011-05-17T01:39:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in a computer room at school, ready to get my Eurocamp on. Here’s hoping I’m not disappointed.

Following on from my recurring theme of the last two posts, I will continue along with Blackie's Eurovision drinking game (for full details, look at the Semifinal 2 post). How euro-trashed will I be??

I’m not sure I’m a fan of Anke’s dress. It’s not enough to warrant a shot, but still. Judith’s is quite nice, but I can’t fathom why Stefan isn’t wearing a tie.

And now Anke has punched Stefan. She does it again in the final... generally when he’s just a bit too much of a tool.

Stefan: voting is so easy even a woman could explain in.
Audience: did he just go there??

Poland
The land of Po. Cute postcard. Painfully so.
Shot for the Gaga/ABBA inspired costumes. The singer looks rather like Santana from Glee. Sings just about as well as her too. Nice use of strobing, but underwhelming use of wind machining. The plumes of smoke help somewhat. A nice Europop song.
8/10
One shot – costumes.

Norway
I didn’t know they had Kenyans in Norway. I’m not being racist, I’m just saying. Apparently the song is partially in Swahili. As you would, when performing at Eurovision. But as those of you who read my comments regarding France’s entry last year will know, I’m quite a fan of afropop. This is no exception. There is however a shot for the gold onesie with butt ruffles.
8.9/10
One shot.

Sam: finally some mid-tempo afro-fusion-pop. Did notice that one of the backup dancers was wearing a tie, I hope it was a full Windsor knot.

Albania
Apparently the singer has crazy fake nails. I'll allocate a pre-emptive shot. Good fog to start with. Another shot for the rest of the outfit. I only wonder if there'll be any wind machining later to capitalise on the floofy bits. Albania traditionally is strong when it comes to the use of wind, but this year is apparently an exception. This lack is compensated for with abundant fire. I'm also a fan of the studded hair. I'm horrified to realise that this is the third song and I'm yet to hear a keychange.
8.5/10
Two shots.

Armenia
This song's called 'Boom Boom'. TITLE SHOT. Interesting set design, shot for the giant boxing glove chair. Shot for the backup dancers in their dressing gowns. I am cracking up at this song, but not in a good way. I'll be giving shots just for the sheer trashiness. The male dancers are also showing a decently Eurovisual amount of chest.
7.25/10
Three shots.

Still no keychange.

Turkey
Shot for the '70s rocker inspired costumes. This should be good. Nice use of fire and fog. Shot for the contortionist chick in the spherical cage. That shit's weird. Not enough strobing if you ask me. Points for the contortionist chick turning into a bird at the end.
8.25/10
Two shots.

Interview Interlude: Portugal are apparently wearing original costumes from '74. And the Albanian lead singer is tiny. I find that without a raging rock band behind her, Georgia's lead singer is even worse. It's a pity, because she brings down the entire performance.

Serbia
I didn't like this one in the final, let's see if I like it more this time... I don't. I do however quite like Nina's dress tonight.
5.5/10
One shot - finally a keychange.

Russia
I'm struck by how much Alexej looks like Ben McKenzie, but in a hotter, European way. I'm also a fan of the fact that he's working the crowd. The backup dancers are also quite cute, despite the fact that their costumes warrant 30 mLs of spirits. The lyrics are a bit odd too: "Put my mind in a dirty zone". Really? Clearly that made more sense in Russian. And call me an elitist, but I liked the rehearsed and regimented bow at the end. 9.5/10
Two shots - keychange, and what a great one it was.

Switzerland
I liked this postcard on the final, but not the song. Will I change my mind? I like the Ukelele, but not her singing. It's all so painfully twee.
5/10
A shot to ease the pain.

Georgia
Shot for the costumes. Her hair is bigger tonight than in the final. And already, she's working the wind machine in true Georgian style. I still don't understand the purpose of the rap though. WHY WOULD YOU EVEN PUT IT IN THERE? The strobing is also a touch underwhelming. Pity.
7.5/10 - I'd give more if she could sing better.
One shot.

A couple of Lordi jokes later, here's Finland.
Sam: If you liked Lordi... turn off your TV now.

Finland
Again, I love the postcard. Yay for classical music.
The song's called 'Da Da Dam'. TITLE SHOT!! This singer is painfully adorable. He's just so cutely huggable. This is a ballad that I actually like. The only issue is that it's not poppy enough for Eurovision. That having been said, I'm still tempted to pull out a lighter and do a Cold Chisel. So adorable.
8.75/10
Two shots - downbeat entry.

Malta
I like the postcard. Probs because I <3 opera.
Well. The backup dancers are very Eurovision with their sleeveless shirts. The lead singer is similarly tanned into oblivion in a very Eurovisual manner. The whole song is however a bit too... irritatingly camp. Decently rousing keychange, but otherwise...
6/10
One shot.

San Marino
Another ballad. From the first chord, I know that despite all the fog flowing over the stag, I'm going to hate this song because it's crap. She's not a very good singer, it's an atrocious song.
<5/10
Shot to erase the memory.

Croatia
According to the hosts [as in Sam and Julia, not Anke, Judith and Stefan], this is one for the drinking games. It's definitely bad enough. I'm not understanding the purpose of the creepy DJ. He's kind of overkill. I'm rather impressed by the quickchange artistry. Pity it's a crap song. A good, rousing keychange, but still. So many points for the changing.
7/10
Two shots - the quickchanging totally distracted from the song.

Iceland
I'm loving the Barbershop aesthetics. And again, I appreciate the fact that they're not wanking it up on a grand piano. They're just honky-tonking along on an upright. I also liked the harmonies at the end.
8/10
One shot - keychange.

Hungary
Sam: No, that's not Michael Bolton.
This is a delightfully boppy song, she's actually quite good. I still feel that the costumes are almost libatively ABBA. And a touch scanty. But I still very much like the LED lit backup dancers. That's Eurovision. I feel that this song could have really benefited from some wind machining, but it just wasn't there. Pity.
8.5/10
Two shots - costume and keychange.

Portugal
The costumes are visibly '74, although why they have a guy dressed up as Fidel Castro is well beyond me. I almost feel as if this song is from some Playschool-esque programme. It feels a touch... infantile. The only thing keeping them above 5/10 is the Castro lookalike. He jives me much jollies.
6/10
Two shots - costume and national dress (vintage clothing from the '70s qualifies in my mind).

Lithuania
An operatic ballad. Not ever a good fusion idea. Here goes nothing... I don't like her voice. Maybe it's just me, but she's a bit pitchy. Shot for the ridiculous dress train. There's good fog, but no wind. Her hair (and dress) could really capitalise on it, but it just isn't there. And I still don't understand the sign language in a SONG CONTEST. So bland.
6/10
One shot.

Azerbaijan
I'm going to allocate five shots for how nauseating this was, and then fast forward through it. <5/10
Five shots.

That was painful.
Sam: it's all a bit to Graduate for me.

And now for Greece.
Julia: The Greeks combine classical music, folk music and rap.
Sam: Finally.

Greece
Now this will be Eurovisual. I'm ready for partially shirtless men. What's this? They're wearing shirts. At least they're breakdancing as compensation. The rap guy soinds like he should be singing backup in Cannibal Corpse, but the classical guy is a cutie. There's a shot for the LUDICROUSLY Greek background image. The Greek dancing interlude is also cracking me up no end. And now the backup dancers are divested of their jackets and dancing among pillars of fire. Cool.
9/10
One shot.

Interview Interlude: in which the singers talk rapidly at the SBS cameras in their native languages. I swoon.

So according to me, the qualifying nations are as follows, in order of performance:
Poland
Norway
Albania
Turkey
Russia
Georgia
Finland
Iceland
Hungary
Greece

I'm not going to comment on the Drumline entertainment. They didn't even march in step. They ought to be ashamed of themselves.

I must say that Jon Ola Sand has a far less entertaining name than last year's lord god king of Eurovision, Svante.

So... the nations which Europe has chosen for qualification are as follows:
Serbia - 0 for 1
Lithuania - 0 for 2
Greece - 1 for 2
Azerbaijan - 1 for 3
Georgia - 2 for 3
Switzerland - 2 for 4
Hungary - 3 for 4
Finland - 4 for 4
Russia - 5 for 4
Iceland - 6 for 4

Same accuracy as the other semi.

I'd just like to have a quick final private rant regarding this year's Eurovision.

WHERE WERE THE WIND MACHINES? THIS IS EUROVISION. I EXPECT GALE FORCE WINDS IN EVERY NUMBER. I AM SO UNIMPRESSED WITH THE CALIBRE OF THIS YEAR'S WIND MACHINING.
So unimpressed.

DER EUROVISION FINAL!!!!

2011-05-16T04:45:00.000-07:00

Here's the final, following the same drinking game as the last post, with a quick addition: when a nation gives it's top 3 points allocations to countries within it's region, you drink a geopolitics shot. Enjoy, my drunken dearies.

Now would also be a good time to point out that my scoring system is logarithmic rather than linear. It'll come in handy later.

This is the first time I’ve seen the starting credits. They’re cool. And apparently they somehow got 36 000 people into the stadium. I am impressed. As usual, us aussies get a shout out from the hosts. As usual, I’m feeling the love.

And now, since Lena is once again germany’s entry, the hosts are going to give us their rendition of Satellite. That is some weird shiznit right there. That having been said, it’s a cute arrangememnt. And the double bass player is a bit of a hottie. And I’m a fan of the whole big band thing. As well as the 43 Lena lookalikes. And now, Lena is apparently standing on a double bass whilst singing. Respect.

I must say that the video showing the football stadium to euro-temple was pretty darn cool. And now onto the videos.

Finland
I’m in awe of this postcard. The guy took his double bass ON THE BUS.
The song’s called ‘Da da dam’. Shot. He’s a cutie though. And it’s quite an adorable song. I think I just love his accent a little. Oh to be back in Finland. The problem is that it’s a bit too meaningful, and not quite Europop enough. I love it, but will Europe?
8.75/10
One shot.

Bosnia and Herzegovina
He's still old. And the song is still kind of weird. I'm still not sold, but I'm liking it slightly more than before. It's kind of cute in a sadly postcommunist way. I'm also thinking I might have hallucinated one of last night's keychanges.
7/10
One shot - keychange.

Denmark
Another unnecessary shot yesterday - it's the band which has a stupid name. I actually really like this song. They're so adorably Scandiwegian. Respect for the random giant balloon, but once again, it's a shot for the backless shirt on the lead singer.
9/10
Two shots - keychange.

Lithuania
An operatic ballad. This should be interesting. A lovely dress, but not quite enough to merit a shot. good use of fog, bad use of a wind machine, in that there wasn't any. Her hair and dress are just crying out for it. I'm not quite understanding the point of the sign language. Clearly it's for all the deaf people who are watching a SONG CONTEST. The keychange was a bit... forced.
7/10
Two shots - downbeat entry.

Hungary
She's an old one. Shot for the ABBA inspired costumes. Decent seizure inducement, underwhelming male dancers. It's an alright song overall, and I'm muchly a fan of the use of spotlights. I'm surprised there wasn't a keychange, but the LED clothing more than makes up for it.
8.5/10
One shot.

Interview interlude - wow. Russia is a BABE.

Ireland
John and Edward (Jedward from hereonin) have a brother named Kevin. According to Sam, he's the Fredo of the family. Awkies for him.
Instant double shot for the hair and the outfits. Respect for going with it when one of them dropped his mike stand. Very profesh. Once again, loving the bit when they marched. Very cute.
8.25/10
Three shots - keychange.

Sam: This is what happens when eighteen year old boys drink red cordial.

Sweden
I still love the viking postcard.
Well. They've notched it up since the semi. There are more specfx. I'm still not a fan of the whole glove thing, although the semi-shirtless male dancers are more than Eurovision enough to compensate. I just feel that the lights didn't strobe enough.
8.25/10
Two shots - keychange, that bloody glove.

Estonia
Adorable as this song is, I can't like it because it just isn't trashy enough. I like it as a song, but not as an example of europop.
7.5/10 - I marked it down because it wasn't trashy. Otherwise, 9/10
Still no shots.

Greece
I'm watching Greece, and yet I can see no chest hair. I can't even see any chest. WHAT IS THIS? The rapper sounds as if he should be in some heavy metal version of Linkin Park. Despite the lack of open shirts, I'm liking the song. Probably for the metallic undertones. It's very dark by Greek standards, but there's great use of pyrotechnics. I will however need to allocate a shot to the ridiculous backdrop.
8.25/10
One shot.

Russia
Cool postcard.
Apparently the singer just won dancing with the stars on ice... and on land. Kudos to him. And he's a bit of a HOTTIE. There's a shot for what the breakdancers are wearing. I like it though, partially because he's the first act to actually work the crowd. And I'm impressed by the writing on the jackets. The song could have used a keychange.
8.75/10
One shot.

France
I'm looking forward to this. He's a babe who sings opera. I've been looking forward to this ever since I saw the little clip of him in the Big Five montage. So far I love the music, and his voice... and him in general. The hair's a touch odd, but otherwise this is some great shit. There's good use of fog, and have I mentioned that he's amazingly beautiful? And there's pyrotechnics.
10/10 - it'll never win, and I don't care if it wasn't even clichét enough to warrant a shot. I'm in love.

Italy
This is Italy's first performance in 14 years. That's a while. And now I can see why. There's a creepy dude playing a clear perspex piano. And it's slow jazz, which I also hate. And the trumpet player has a bun. And he's a dude. DISLIKE. I haven't actively hated a song this much since last year.
<5/10
One shot - we need to erase the memory of just how bad that was.

Interview interlude - France's entry is the youngest tenor in the world. AND HE'S BEAUTIFUL.

Switzerland
Cute postcard. I liked the fact that they had 'Feel your heart beat' in all four main languages.
It's a pity, because that was the last thing I liked about Switzerland.
<5/10
No shots.

UK
Shot for the giant LCD portraits. Shot for the shiny outfits. Points for harmonising. Points lost for the solos. Points for the amount of chest showing - Britain has really put some eurotrash into it this time. I can't help but feel however that the only reason the black guy is there is because he's muscly and thus adds some street cred.
8.25/10
Two shots.

Moldova
They've supported Korn and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. It shows.
I can't help but realise that the guitar players aren't wearing hats tonight. That won't stop me from giving two shots immediately for outfit. This song is like a technicolour seizure, replete with some random chick on a unicycle. I still, for some ridiculous reason, still find that I like it.
7.5/10
Three shots - that monocle really creeps me out.

Germany
This postcard is a behind-the-scenes thing looking at the hosts. Muy adorable.
Lena's backup dancers look like something you'd ezpect in a Katy Perry clip. It's weird. Lena still sounds like Missy Higgins, but if anything, she is now too seasoned a performer. She's stopped being adorable. And the harem pants were a mistake. One shot for the outfit, one for the unitard-clad dancers. None for changing key.
6/10
Two shots.

Romania
I like the postcard of the graffiti artists.
This song seems cool. The pianist is nicely insane, and there's some good subtle sparkling. The women are unfortunately not wearing enough clothing. This is then offset by the fact that they're trumpeting. Shot for the tartan on the back of the men's vests. Decent light show, good fire to finish.
7.25/10
Two shots - keychange.

Austria
I am unmoved in my opinion. She's pleasantly sparkly, but otherwise... The fog and the sparkles are all that's keeping her above 5/10.
6/10
A shot to erase the memory of how boring that was.

Azerbaijan
Immediate shot for the quasi-grecian costumes. Their outfits may be white, but the song is incredibly beige. I approve of the fireworks shower, but this is overwhelmingly unimpressive. And the guy weirds me out.
5/10
One shot.

Slovenia
Another immediate shot for outfit. Honestly, what was she thinking? I'm also not liking the power balladry - this is another white girl trying to be Beyonce, whom I already dislike. Rousing keychange, and passable wind machining towards the end.
7/10
Two shots.

Iceland
Cutely barbershop. I like the fact that they aren't wanking it up on a grand piano. I also like the story of the band's formation. Nothing like Eurovision to give you the warm fuzzies. Points for the backdrop.
8/10
One shot - keychange.

Spain
I'm ready for another shocker. Will I be pleasantly surprised? Probably not. They're wearing white/lurid pink. SHOT! All I can say is that this song is like Spanish daytime TV in song form. If not for the handheld pyrotechnics, this would be a total loss.
5/10
Two shots - keychange.

Ukraine
I am struck bu how much the singer reminds me of Teylor Swift. I still can't get over the weirdness of the costumes, but they're cool nonetheless. And the sand art... wow. I also love the use of wind and fog.
8.5/10
Two shots - keychange.

Serbia
They're very sixties. Libatively so. I, unlike Sam and Julia, am not feeling the love. I like the fact that the backdrop is nauseatingly bright and swirly, but that's it.
5/10
Two shots - keychange.

Georgia
This lot look adorably dark. They sound adorably dark too. The costumes warrant a shot, but the wind machining is on par with Georgia's usual good capitalisation thereof. My only criticisms are: they're trying to hard, the girl kind of sucks, and there's a random guy rapping. The only people who get away with that kind of thing are Linkin Park. I do however like all the crazy strobing and the fireworks at the end.
8.5/10
Two shots - keychange.

So, at the end of another final, the placings according to me are as follows:
1 - France
2 - Denmark
3 - Finland, Russia
4 - Georgia, Hungary, Ukraine
5 - Greece, Ireland, Sweden, The UK
6 - Iceland
7 - Estonia, Moldova
8 - Romania
9 - Bosnia & Herzegovina, Lithuania, Slovenia
10 - Austria, Germany
11 - Azerbaijan, Serbia, Spain
12 - Italy, Switzerland

Now we drink a shot for the new dress Anke is wearing. Apparently Anke is a professional comedienne. I'm loving all the Berlin wall jokes.

And now onto the dangerous territory of politics shots. Prepare your glasses, this could get ugly.

Russia: Greece 8; Ukraine 10; Azerbaijan 12.

We drink a shot because the UK are still on a duck.

Bulgaria: Ukraine 8; Greece 10; UK 12.
The Netherlands: Bosnia & Herzegovina 8; Sweden 10; Denmark 12.
Italy: [we drink a shot for what the presenter is wearing] Moldova 8; UK 10; Romania 12.

What is this? The UK are actually leading???

Cyprus: Azerbaijan 8; Sweden 10; Greece 12.

Well, that was foreseen. I don't see why people are bothering to boo, but still. We all knew that was going to happen. Either way, we drink a shot!

Ukraine: Russia 8; Azerbaijan 10; Georgia 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Finland: Iceland 8; Ireland 10, Hungary 12.

Finland, Switzerland and Spain are all still sitting on a duck. That's a pity with regard to Finland.

Norway: [ooh, look! It's that chick who hosted last year.] Iceland 8; Sweden 10; Finland 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Armenia: Russia 8; Georgia 10; Ukraine 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

FYR Macedonia: Serbia 8; Slovenia 10; Bosnia & Herzegovina 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Switzerland is still on a duck. Sucks to be them.

Iceland: Azerbaijan 8; Finland 10; Denmark 12.
Slovenia [which half the time the hosts refer to as Slovakia]: Ireland 8; Sweden 10; Ukraine 12.

I'm yet to drink an Ireland shot. This is odd.

UK: Moldova 8; Switzerland 10; Ireland 12.

LUCK OF THE IRISH!! It seems I spoke too soon.

Denmark: Germany 8; Sweden 10; Ireland 12.

LUCK OF THE IRISH!!

Austria: Azerbaijan 8; Germany 10 [duhh]; Bosnia & Herzegovina 12.
Poland: Azerbaijan 8; Italy 10; Lithuania 12.

Spain, on 7, is the only country still on single digits. Of course they WERE crap...

Sweden [the presenter's wearing an Eric Saade shirt. POLITICS SHOT!!]: Bosnia & Herzegovina 8; Denmark 10; Ireland 12.

LUCK OF THE IRISH!!

San Marino [presenter singing? ANAESTHETIC SHOT!!]: Greece 8; Azerbaijan 10; Italy 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!! (San Marino being only a principality, giving the 12 to Italy counts as geopoliticking.)
At this point, there's only one point between Sweden and Azerbaijan. In previous years, the winner was clearly visible by this stage in the proceedings. Go figure.

Germany: Ireland 8; Greece 10; Austria 12 [duhh].
Azerbaijan [Shot for what the presenter's wearing]: Greece 8; Georgia 10; Ukraine 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Slovenia [More presenter singing. Unnecessary. At least he's better than the guy from San Marino]: Denmark 8; Serbia 10; Bosnia & Herzegovina 12.
I liked his octopus reference. Lols abound.
Turkey: Georgia 8; Bosnia & Herzegovina 10; Azerbaijan 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Spain is STILL on single digits. There are STILL only two points between Azerbaijan and Sweden.

Switzerland: Germany 8; Iceland 10; Bosnia & Herzegovina 12.
Greece [who will they vote for now that Cyprus is out of the running?]: Georgia 8; Italy 10; France 12. HUZZAH!!
Georgia: Azerbaijan 8; Ukraine 10; Lithuania 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

France [They aren't using English. Snap. Good thing I like hot guys who speak French. POLITICS SHOT!!]: Italy 8; Sweden 10; Spain 12. Really? Really??
Serbia: Hungary 8; Slovenia 10; Bosnia & Herzegovina 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Croatia: Serbia 8; Azerbaijan 10; Slovenia 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Belarus: Germany 8; Ukraine 10; Georgia 12.
Romania: Greece 8; Azerbaijan 10; Moldova 12.
Albania: Azerbaijan 8; Greece 10; Italy 12.
Malta: Ireland 8; Italy 10 [duhh]; Azerbaijan 12.
Portugal: Azerbaijan 8; Italy 10; Spain 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!! (With Spain being the only neighbour Portugal has, this warrants alcoholic recognition)

Azerbaijan is starting to really break away.

Hungary: Greece 8; Sweden 10; Iceland 12.
Lithuania: Azerbaijan 8; Italy 10; Georgia 12.
Bosnia & Herzegovina: Azerbaijan 8; Serbia 10; Slovenia 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Ireland [loving the prosthetic Jedward hair]: Moldova 8; Lithuania 10; Denmark 12.

SHOT FOR THE UK GETTING NOTHING FROM THEIR ONLY REAL EUROVISUAL NEIGHBOUR!!

Spain: Romania 8; France 10; Italy 12.
Israel: Russia 8; Denmark 10; Sweden 12.
Estonia: Azerbaijan 8; Denmark 10; Sweden 12.

I can't help but realise that Sam and Julia aren't feeling the love for Azerbaijan either. They weren't that good.

Moldova: Ukraine 8; Azerbaijan 10; Romania 12.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!!

Azerbaijan have now won to a mathematical certainty. But it's not by the 150+ points margins of the last few winners.

Belgium: Greece 8; Romania 10; France 12. Hurrah. He's such a cutie.

GEOPOLITICAL SHOT!! (Belgium really doesn't have that many neighbours)

Latvia: Germany 8; Ireland 10; Italy 12.

Well that's Eurovision. Azerbaijan won, which shits me, but at least with the 62 shots I theoretically drank, I was way too wasted [pronounced: dead as a result of alcohol poisoning] to care. Stay tuned for Semifinal 1.

SHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTS!!!

2011-05-14T22:51:00.000-07:00

EVERYBODY! SHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTS!!

I just realised I neglected to tell you how smashed I would theorietcally be.

51 shots.

I'd have passed out somewhere in the middle of Belgium's entry.

Now that's Eurotrashy.

Eurovision 2

2011-05-14T20:23:00.000-07:00

Those of you who are concentrating will see that I didn't actually post something from the first Eurovision final. This is because I was at a school function that night. But fear not, I'll post it some time this week. Once I actually watch the show.

This year, as a bit of a side note, I'll be referencing a Eurovision drinking game developed by Andrew Blackie of UNSW. It goes as follows.

Whenever the costume overwhelms the song, you take a shot.
Whenever there's ridiculous national dress, you take a shot.
Whenever a song has a stupid title, you take a shot.
Whenever anyone says the word 'baby', you take a shot.
Whenever there's a keychange, you take a shot.
If ever an entry tries to be serious by using an actual instrument, you take a shot.
Whenever a song gets political, you take a shot.
When Cyprus and Greece are overtly buddy-buddy, you take a shot.
When the Irish win, you take a shot.
When the UK come dead last, you take a shot.

I'll also be giving my ratings out of 10. These don't nevessarily reflect quality of song, the majority of the points are for eurotrashiness; use of fire, fig and wind; and most importantly, shock value. Because this is Eurovision, after all.

So here we go: the second semifinal.

Bosnia and Herzegovina
For a show opener, this was boring. I honestly cannot remember anything interesting about it, apart from the fact that they had a string bass on stage. They did have two keychanges though.
7/10
Two shots.

Austria
All I can think is that the lead singer wishes she was Beyonce. This isn't working for me, mainly because I rather dislike Beyonce. I'm also not a fan of power ballads when they aren't sung by 1980s british rockers. I do however approve of how sparkly her dress is. Swarovski crystals. Shiny. The keychange was well executed, but otherwise, the song was just a bit... meh.
7/10
One shot.

The Netherlands
The lead singer is wearing a textured white suit. He's only mildly classier than Elvis.His sideburns are also quite Presley-esque. And watching him, I can't help but think that he and the bassist have a bit of courtly man-love going on. But dear god, the song's bland.
6/10
One shot - costume.

Belgium
I'm thoroughly impressed by the a capella action going on here. I just can't seem to understand why the ladies are wearing one glove each. They aren't Michael Jackson. Or if they are, that's some trippy shit. And why is that guy, who is clearly over 30, wearing skinny jeans? And they said 'baby' at least sixteen times (and I may have missed a few). I mean the song's called 'With love baby', but still.
8.5/10
Seventeen shots - sixteen for saying the word 'baby', one for costume.
SEVENTEEN SHOTS!!!

Slovenia
They have a piano and a slow drummer - it's a downbeat entry. There is very impressive use of a wind machine - at last, someone's actually getting into the Eurovision spirit. The costumes are a bit ridiculous, although well designed for use in conjunction with a wind machine. It's a pity the singers are flat. There are, however, pyrotechnics, so there's some points there. Probably the eurotrashiest song yet.
Quick side note: BOOOOOOOBS. Honestly ladies. Keep them in your dresses.
8.25/10
Two shots - attempting to be serious, costume.

Ukraine
Cute postcard.
I'm very impressed by the sand art. It's like freaky amazing. But what's with the costume? The Ukraine have, as always, really outdone themselves. Feathers and lurid pleather. Unfortunately, not very good use of wind machines, which is odd for the Ukraine. Usually they capitalise well on such things. The use of a fog machine does however compensate somewhat.
8.75/10
One shot - costume.

Moldova
I'm liking the song. Not because it's good, but because it's so trashy that I can't help but love it. It's almost as good as the song 'Super DJ' by Russian pop-techno group 'Disco Accident'. But the costumes? This is the first double shot for costumes. Eek. There is however impressive usage of seizure inducing lights. I also quite like their custom brass instruments. Oh but wait, there's a monocle. That's another shot in itself.
8.75/10 (for the trashy factor)
Three shots - Costume, national dress, monocle.

Sweden
I like the postcard. The marching band in me just loves footage of parades. I also have a bit of a thing for vikings. Just saying...
Well. Male backup dancers. Now that's Eurovision. I'm not sure about the finished product though. I mean the microphone glove on the lead singer? It's just a bit... REALLY INCREDIBLY HOMOSEXUAL (I couldn't think of a more PC way of saying that). He can dance, though. And the lights could cause the odd seizure.
8.25/10
Two shots - one for costume, one for the very well executed keychange.

Cyprus
I hear from the voice over that there's going to be 'traditional instruments'. That's a shot. There's fog. Cool. There's a chick in a ballgown. With crazy hair. There's another shot. Great music, though. Nice harmonies. Oh wait... Why is that chick now screaming and practising hammerthrow? And I'm also put off slightly by the whole leaning from side to side thing in the verses. Combined with the background art also moving from side to side, I feel as if I'm on a pitching ship. Good dance though.
9/10
Two shots - reasons set out above.

Bulgaria
I feel as if they mugged a young David Bowie for these costumes. They're also a bit... white. The costumes that is. They could really benefit from a wind machine. Good use of fire, however.
8/10
Two shots - keychange, costume.

FYP Macedonia
This song is incredibly beige. And that girl in the backup dancers is camera-whoring WAY too much. If ever there was a song which was just SCREAMING for a modulation, it was this one, but the key stays the same throughout. UNIMPRESSED.
6.75/10
One shot - national dress.

Israel
A transsexual. There's a shot. The song's called 'Ding Dong'. There's a shot. Moving on, the singers are a bit aurally mushy (crap diction), and they're all singing a bit too high for their voice types. The hebrew/english fusion is a bit confusing, but that's because I keep translating in my head. Decently rousing keychange, but the lights could have been more strobe-y. And there could have been a wind machine.
7.5/10
Three shots - another for the fact that the dress makes the singer look a bit like a lizard.

Slovenia
Her voice is passable, but the dominatrix costume is a bit... unnecessary. There's a shot in those boots alone. Second use of a wind machine tonight, but under-capitalised.
7.5/10
One shot.

Romania
Very Human Nature. They're adorable, well dressed, and have a good keychange. And they're also really bland and unmemorable. Pity.
7/10
One shot.

Estonia
Cute postcard. Cute costume. Cute song, with nice use of a snare drum. I'm also liking the unison breakdancing. The buildings which form the backdrop actually look like downtown Tallin. It's a good pop song, but not really that Eurovision.
7.75/10
NO SHOTS. THIS IS WHY IT'S NOT THAT EUROVISION. IT'S COMPLETELY UN-CLICHÉD.

Belarus
'I Love Belarus'. Nice song title. Amazing pyrotechnics. Probably the best I've ever seen in Eurovision. Shot for the overtly political message. That's not going to stop me from downloading it and then sticing it on my ipod. Shot for the costumes. Shot for the amazingly well integrated keychange. AND THEN SHOT FOR THE EVEN BETTER ONE RIGHT AFTER IT!!! RESPECT!!
9.25/10
Four shots.

Latvia
Weird use of swivel stools. Passable wind machining, but not enough. And that weird chiffon stuff is just odd. As is the whole red/white/black colour scheme. And the falsetto? Really? Ick.
6.25/10 - it was that unmemorable.
One shot - costume.

Denmark
Shot for the song title. A Friend in London? Honestly. Shot for their hair. They're adorable enough as their quasi-boyband, but the lights aren't seizure inducing enough. Shot for the backless shirt on the lead singer. There really is no excuse.
8.75/10
Three shots.

Ireland
According to the voice overs, these guys are the second favourites to win the contest. We'll see. Shot for the Gaga appropriated costumes. Shot for the hair. Good use of fog machines. I also take back everythign I said before about Sweden. They were NOWHERE NEAR as overwhelmingly gay as this veritable fount of gay is turning out to be. BRAINSPLODE.
9/10
Three shots - there was a decent keychange.

And now, according to the creepy host guy, "fifteen minutes remain for woting"

So, according to my scores, the countries advancing to the final are, in order of appearance:
Belgium
Slovenia
Ukraine
Moldova
Sweden
Cyprus
Bulgaria
Belarus
Denmark
Ireland

Let's see how many I got correct.

But first, back to the hopelessness of that creepy host guy.

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Five. Five. Four." etc.

Host lady: Name two things that don't go together.
Creepy host guy: England and penalty shootouts. Germans and humour. Women and Technology.
Crowd: Did he just go there???

But anyway, now for my impressions of the Big Five, having seen a couple of seconds of their clips.

Spain: What on EARTH were they thinking? Yet another fail.

France: What a sex bomb. He's all brooding and operatic. YAY!!

Italy: I'm shaking my head in disappointment. Honestly.

UK: Muscly boy band. Like the Backstreet Boys, but less wimpy looking. This should be informative.

Germany: Weird. That's all I have to say. Weird.

And now the qualification according to Europe.
Estonia - that's 0 for 1 (I'll be using US football rankings here. It's easier.)
Romania - 0 for 2
Moldova - 1 for 2
Ireland - 2 for 2, and we do another shot
Bosnia & Herzegovina - 2 for 3
Denmark - 3 for 3
Austria - 3 for 4
Ukraine - 4 for 4
Slovenia - 5 for 4
Sweden - 6 for 4

That's an improvement on last year - back then I was only 4 for 6.

Quote from Julia (re: Sweden): Men holding each other in man love.
Quote from me (re: Sweden): We thought they were gay, but then we saw Ireland.

Another side note, cameraman 4 is so fired. He's been giving us closeups before it's announced. Sucks to be him :)

Stay tuned for the final, as well as semi 1 when I get around to watching it.
Until then...

The Wonders of the Book of Face

2011-04-23T05:09:00.000-07:00

When I happened to see this on the sidebar of Sarah's home screen, I knew I had to immediately take a screen shot, crop it in paint, and then stick it on my facebook wall.
And then I decided to blog it for good measure. Such fun.

Deborahfail

2011-04-10T20:15:00.000-07:00

I'm at MLC at the moment jacking their student internet on Deb's laptop because she has gymnastics at the moment. She didn't want to catch the train on her own, so I accompanied her like the lovely sister I am.

A few minutes ago, whilst practicing her beam dismounts, she managed to overbalance forward and land on her face. Which prompted me to speak the following quote from that brilliant movie 'Fired Up'

Oh My God, you broke her face. Almost in half. Where are we going to find another one of those this late in the day?

Such fun.

Although now she's developing a black eye, so that should be heaps awkies for me on the train with her.

JewRevue - The Aftermath

2011-04-10T18:46:00.000-07:00

Those of you who were anywhere near my facebook profile in the past week and a bit will be more than aware of the fact that JewRevue 2011 (The Lambshank Redemption) just finished its run of of performances.

Gosh it was fun. Being only in high school I had to be content with merely writing scripts and doing front of house, but even so, it was terribly enjoyable. To re-affirm what I've taken to saying reasonably often: Such fun.

In a later post, I'm going to go through the program etc, in a manner akin to my Eurovision rundowns, but for now, I'm going to just go with a quick summary of the afterparty. And what an afterparty it was.

Hosted by Tom, one of the voiceover guys, we were told to enter via the side entrance to his house. Understandable, seeing as his parents were home. So Sarah and I walk down the driveway, and guess what he has in his front yard.

Have you guessed yet?

A TENNIS COURT.

Oh yes. Welcome to Vaucluse. Anyway. We then descend the sandstone staircase that is the 'side entrance', walking past the billiards room (more on that later), to reach the backyard. Now let's take a moment to let our minds boggle. In his backyard, there is a pool on a cliff, overlooking THE HARBOUR BRIDGE. I MEAN HOLY EXPLETIVES.

Anywho. We then enter the kitchen/party central, wherein we see a liquor cabinet so expansive and extensive that it was actually ridiculous, and a television so large that I initially mistook it for a feature wall. But no. It was a television. I know.

And now, in the bent of the Marching Band Blog which I write, we have a Fun Fact!: Tequila tastes remarkably like horseradish. Thus making Tequila and orange juice taste remarkably like horseradish and orange juice. There you go.

And now onto the billiards room mentioned above. The table was roughly two by five metres. I shit you not. It was like pool on steroids. But stemming from that, I have discovered that watching mildly intoxicated uni students play pool (or rather fail thereat) is incredibly entertaining. Such fun.

I also discovered that I am reasonably atrocious at pool. I should probably stick to activities which merely involve hitting people with sticks.

Anyway, come 0500, my phone alarm goes off, and Sarah and I realise that perhaps we ought to jolly on home lest mum awaken before we get there. Because that would be mildly awkies.

So we sat in the car, blasting Ke$ha (because we;re just that classy) in a desperate attempt to not go into microsleeps and thus DIE A HORRIBLE, PAINFUL AND FIERY DEATH, and somehow made it home by quarter to six. And then proceeded to sleep until 1330.

Best. Afterparty. EVER.

I'm so pumped for the Revunion.

Shenannigans in Lewisham

2011-04-01T03:43:00.000-07:00

Today, I wasted a perfectly good triple free.

I needed to drop off the audition video I made for spec (which I was up until 1 am burning to a disk. It's harder than you'd think); so the moment recess started, I vamoosed from the school grounds to catch a train to Lewisham via Redfern, because for whatever ridiculous reason, The Arts Unit is based at Lewisham Public School. As one would.

Regardless. After traversing the inner west for a while as I actually searched for the school, I finally found the blasted school. At which point I had to work out where to deposit the bloody audition DVD. Luckily for me, there was a lovely young administrative drone who happened to step outside as I pondered possible routes of delivery, and who proceeded to take said DVD for me to deposit with whomever it was meant to be deposited. So thank you, kind stranger affiliated with The Arts Unit.

Aaaaaaaanywhom, I then headed back to the station (although this time via a far less circuitous route - I love learning from mistakes), at which point I got to wait on the rather hot platform of Lewisham station, before getting onto an even hotter train. I mean we're back to analogies regarding Satan's armpit here. Although I suppose the fact that I was in full school uniform down to the stockings wasn't helping matters. Gosh does that stuff insulate.

On the train, I happened to run into Katelyn Campbell, which was lovely, seeing as we hadn't actually seen each other since year 8, wherein we had [a certain mildly crazy biology teacher who now runs enviro club] (ever since that post earlier this week, I'm ensuring I don't actually put in any names lest any more shit hit any more fans). So basically we spent year 8 science choosing hair colours and reading science fiction. Such fun.

And (much to my satisfaction) I made it back to school in time for a lunchtime dance rehearsal.

I just can't help but think that I would have had FAR more fun coaching year 10 Lacrosse. There's just something innately enjoyable about yelling at juniors (for those of you who haven't yet noticed, I consider anyone below year 12 to be a junior) to shove each other out of the way, to be more violent etc. Terribly entertaining.

Oh well. Come next term, I'll be working with [the new head teacher PDHPE, a certain diminutive redhead] to get an interhouse Lacrosse competition going. Gosh I'm pumped.

Oh Bugger. I just realised that I neglected to sign back in upon my arrival at school. That might be an issue come next week.

Today

2011-03-31T00:33:00.000-07:00

I gave blood today. It was reasonably enjoyable, as giving blood generally is; although I was somewhat irritated to discover that the minimum age for plasma donations has been raised to 21 for girls, as opposed to the 18 it was a couple of months ago.

Keeping myself occupied as I did so was a marvellously cheap ($6) copy of this month's ELLE (America). I needed it for horoscope inspiration because I am once again writing the horoscopes for the newly resurrected Papa. Fun times for everyone.

During my blood donation, I underwent the rather disconcerting experience of having several separate people compliment me on the quality of my veins. It's indescribably awkward when a nurse tells you that she really enjoys taking your blood. Or when another tells you that 'You're the easiest girl to take blood from all day'.

I MEAN COME ON!!!

Anyway. Armed with mX, I ran down the escalators at Martin Place to catch an express to Hurstville. As I reached the bottom of the escalator, I lay eyes on the most gorgeous guy in a suit I had seen in quite a while. For those of you whose brains are going in questionable directions, he looked to be early twenties. And so, safely ensconced in the train (he was waiting on the platform for a later train) I sent my first 'Here's Looking At You' text.

Gosh I feel cool.

Rage and Vitriol (or, Why I Was In Tears At School)

2011-03-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

N.B.: At the recommendation of Sarah, I have removed all names from this post to ensure that I can't be expelled.

Today, after the airing of some philosophical differences with the current principal of my school, I am reminded of just how much I hate [insert name of my school]. Not the school per se, but the administration, and it's self-preserving bureaucracy.

What passes for a choir at [insert name of my school] is a depressingly tuneless bunch of girls led by an equally talentless hack who not only cannot conduct, but has failed to grasp the concept that when one is conducting a choir, one does not sing at the same time. It's just not done. Regardless, faced by this vacuum, I thought it might be an idea to start up my own little chamber choir for which I would choose the repertoire (thus immediately ensuring that there would be nothing off the soundtrack of a musical, nor would there be any ridiculous arrangements of rightly obscure songs which aim to feature someone who really oughtn't have been given a solo, nor would there be any song entirely in unison (I mean really. We are in high school now. We can handle parts); as seems to be the norm of the official school choirs), and restrict membership to only those who were ACTUALLY ABLE TO SING. Crazy, I know. Imagine only letting people who could sing join a choir.

Moving on. This choir was to have auditioned for the Schools Spectacular - the Department of Education and Training's way of saying 'Look at us!! Aren't we fantastic!! Yay us!!'. As it was, this was to be a bit of a rush job, as on Thursday, when I thought to check the website for when applications opened, it turned out that they closed the next day, with audition videos being due in a week later. Thus I spent Friday frantically getting the signatures I needed so that we could be considered. After a mild initial hitch involving the meddling of the afore-mentioned choir bitch, [insert name of the teacher who runs the school choirs], I managed to get the necessary signatures to fax off the forms.

Come Monday, I met with the girls who were interested, handed out music, assigned parts and more or less explained what we were doing. I'd spent a large chunk of the weekend working out what the audition pieces would be - there had to be two contrasting pieces - and I finally ended up choosing Eternity by Michael Bojesen (an ambitious choice, being that it ends up in 8 parts, and I only had 8 girls in the choir, and they only had until filming on Thursday to have it up to performance standard) and Little Fish by Neil Finn (the dude from Crowded House) which was a rather more accessible piece, being only in 3 parts. As far as I could tell, everyone was keen, and more than willing to put in the hard yards necessary to get the pieces up to scratch in the couple of days they had.

Today, Tuesday, was to be our first runthrough of Eternity, so as to ensure that they knew what they were practising in the leadup to Thursday. Thus runthrough was to have taken place at recess. About 5 minutes before the start of period 3, the junior on office duty came to my English class with a Go to the principal's office now/recess/lunch slip. Unlike the friendly white Go to the front office now/recess/lunch (with the incorrect options crossed out) slips, the principal forms are blue and only handed out under dire circumstances. This was my second experience of receiving such a summons, the first time being in year 11 when I was told, although not in the succinct manner which would have made the news more palatable because it would have given the impression of respect ([insert name of principal], our principal has the most nauseating habit of beating around the bush in this irritatingly magnanimous manner, as if she's so above such meniality that we should be honoured that she's taken the time to bestow such wisdom upon us lowly mortals), that I wasn't allowed to wear the school vest that I had made after cutting the sleeves off of an old school jumper (I mean honestly. It was a school jumper. It's not like I was wearing some ratty black cardigan like the majority of girls at my school) and that (although this wasn't actually articulated - but she made damn sure I knew what she was getting at) if I did not, I would lose my position as president of the SRC. Suffice to say that I don't tend to enjoy meetings with the principal. The fact that she's a raging bitch doesn't help.

But as I was explaining before that rather lengthy tangent, I was called in for a meeting in the middle of class, so I was feeling an understandable level of trepidation. I was sat down and it was explained to me in an indescribably patronising manner that I was not allowed to start this choir, that I should merely join the school choir and (verbatim) if they're good enough, see if they get into Spec (end quote). The meeting was so interminably long that I had to spend the majority of it digging my nails into the sensitive bits of skin on my hands and wrists in a desperate attempt not to cry, and in doing so, give her the satisfaction of winning the argument. As it was, no tears fell whilst I was in her office, so round 1 to me. The galling thing was that just before I was dismissed, she asked if I thought it was fair. Well let's be honest now. It's not as if I had the option of speaking my mind. So I nodded. AND THEN SHE SAID THAT IT SEEMED TO HER AS IF I THOUGHT HER DECISION WAS UNFAIR! I MEAN COME ON! OF COURSE I THOUGHT THAT. I'D PUT IN SO MUCH EFFORT AND THEN SHE JUST SUMMARILY SHUT IT DOWN. And of course the only reason why the issue would have returned to her attention after she most willingly and enthusiastically signed the forms on Friday, was that [insert name of the teacher who runs the school choirs] actually went and complained about it. Because clearly she felt threatened by the thought of a few girls getting together to sing a little. Perhaps instead of stabbing MY choir in the back, she could concentrate on making HER choir better. Wouldn't that be pleasant.

Having left her office I spent a marvellously enjoyable 10 minutes hyperventillating in the year 12 study with Carmel (I hyperventillated, she hugged) before I had to go back to class and pretend that nothing had happened. I then spent recess telling the girls that we had in fact been shut down. Do you have any idea how saddening it is to see an ensemble you put together shut down without even being given an opportunity to perform? I wasn't even given the opportunity to argue in favour of my choir.

Appartently, [insert name of principal] felt I had "manipulated her into signing off on a choir which she ordinarily would never have signed off on", because apparently I "made it seem as if this was an official school choir run by [insert name of the teacher who runs the school choirs]". And I know I did no such thing. I was open from the outset about the fact that this was entirely student run and organised. Furthermore, [insert name of principal] was "surprised that [I] had the audacity to form such a choir behind everyone's back" (now would be a good time to say that the stuff in quotation marks is verbatim).

Well fuck that. I just wish I'd thought of transferring earlier. The whole vest incident ought really have acted as a warning sign of the authoritarian nature of her purvey. The sad thing is that come next year she'll be the longest serving principal at [insert name of my school]. All she's done is fuck the school over. Both figuratively and literally. If I didn't know it would more or less shoot my ATAR to hell, I'd transfer anyway. Because I honestly don't think I can hack this school for much longer. I'm thinking as a bit of recreation I'll write some open letters to newspapers and the like. I'm thinking that would be even more cathartic than writing this has been. Because if there's something [insert name of principal] hates, it's bad press...

Q and A

2011-01-31T21:09:00.000-08:00

Would I give you my number?
Yes.

Would I go out with you?
Yes.

Would I take you home with me?
Yes.

Would I call you in tears to have a bitch session with you?
Yes.

Do I like it when you upload every photo to pass through your sim card, iespecially all of the incredibly unflattering ones that I'd thought you'd deleted?
No, you little shitheads. Cut it out.

Analogies

2011-01-31T20:10:00.000-08:00

Today is hot. The only way to accurately describe just how hot today is would be to utilise the much underused analogy 'hotter than satan's armpit'.
Friggin' satan.

Apathy

2011-01-25T03:17:00.000-08:00

I am incredibly tired and sore from marching band. It seems I am no longer used to hefting a sousaphone about. Read about my marvy weekend at the band blog.

X

2011-01-21T01:06:00.000-08:00

Today marks the tenth anniversary of my father's death.
How time flies.

Continuity

2011-01-15T03:11:00.000-08:00

I was flicking through the channels and came across Troy.

If ever there was a movie in which no-one gave a damn about continuity, this is it.

To begin with, the Trojan war went on for a good 10 years. The movie pegs the war at about three days, maybe four.

With each morning, there's a lovely shot of the sun rising... from Troy's western shore.

When the civilians are running into Troy as the greeks arrive, if you look carefully, you'll see my favourite extra: a Llama.

Not to mention the fact that Aeneas is practically a child. The man was in his thirties and carryign his crippled father on his back when he fled Troy.

And there was no sword of Troy. Srsly guys.

And that wasn't even getting started on the historical innacuracies, but since I don't have several hours on my hands, I'm not going to bother.

Beardie Weirdies

2011-01-14T16:39:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know me will be aware of the fact that I am not a fan of facial hair below the nose. Eyebrows are great, I just take issue with stubble. And any mustache other than a Stalin. Because foreign policy aside, the man had a great mow.

This dislike of stubble is so profound that I avoid university campuses like the plague during exam time, because they're flooded with guys rocking their 'beard of knowledge' - namely the bum fluff that roves about their faces as they try to convey the fact that they're studying so hard they don't have the five minutes max per day it would take them to shave.

All the St Georgians out there will remember when Mr Mo went from clean shaven to stubbly back in '09. It's not like we'd never seen him with stubble before, each year at LSS he was rocking the 'holiday beard' as we called it, and so imagine our horror when the holiday beard persisted for two entire years of school. It must be said in his defense that the beard growing might be an attempt to break out of the boyish persona he developed from starting teaching at St G fresh out of university, and at a school where he was a good 10 or more years younger than everyone else on the teaching staff, because now that he has a daughter, he now has to conform to his role as paterfamilias. Perhaps this contributed to his being kicked out of the Under 30s club growing at St G because he was too mature.

Regardless, this post is here because I saw the most marvellous thingie on a blog I follow - a chart ranking the trustworthiness of male facial hair.

Enjoy.

Click it and it gets bigger (which is kind of what she said...) alternately, go here to find it in its natural habitat.

Begging Forgiveness (or, a bitch about improper scansion)

2011-01-14T04:11:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged in a while. I apologise. I suppose that the fact that my life has been completely boring of late isn't an excuse, because although my life has been frighfully ho-hum, world politics is getting marvellously fruity, and I like nothing more than dispensing political analysis.

Because I'm cool like that.

I'm trawling youtube for decent music to listen to, and so far I've got nothing. So I've gone to my fallback - Sacra by Apocalyptica. Any piece of music which features phasing between 12/8 and 4/4 is bound to be something I'm willing to listen to over and over again.

I have a feeling that I'm drawn to music with fruity and/or questionable time signatures. That's probably why I like Suicide and Redemption by Metallica. It starts and ends in 5/4.

There is one flaw with this reasoning however - by my above logic, I should like music composed by Ross Edwards. Which I most unequivocally do not. It's as if the man opens up Sibelius or whichever music writing software he uses and then selects notes and beats at random and then just formats time signatures around whatever drivel appears on the screen and then calls it avant-garde or whatever he happens to call it.

I'm so apathetic at the moment that I can't even be bothered to rant about modern art. For those of you who haven't uttered the name Ross Edwards in my earshot, I have a very good and angry rant on the subject of modern art/s. I'm just feeling too blegh to put it on the internet.

Suffice it to say that The Promised Land was a bitch to perform and didn't even sound any good. Don't even get me started on David Malouf's lyrics therefor. Not only did they not make sense, they didn't scan well. And if I learnt nothing from Latin, it was that it's not that difficult to get stuff to scan well. Seriously. especially if you've just chosen random words and stuck them together. If you've done that (as Malouf indisputably did) there is no excuse for bad scanning.

My, my. That was a mildly pointless stream of consciousness. I was only motivated to blog so as to test whether or not my interface between my blog and facebook works. Theoretically, when I publish my post, my facebook profile will be automatically updated to reflect that fact. Gosh I love technology.

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

2010-12-08T01:59:00.000-08:00

Come gather 'round, people wherever you roam
And admit that the waters around you have grown,
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone;
If your time to you is worth saving
Then you'd better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone
For the times, they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics who prophesise with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won't come again,
But don't speak too soon for the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'.
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times, they are a-changin'.

Come Senators, Congressmen, please heed the call:
Don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he who gets hurt will be he who has stalled,
The battle outside ragin'
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times, they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
And don't criticise what you can't understand:
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command,
Your old road is rapily agin'.
Please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand
For the times, they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast:
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past,
The order is rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now will later be last
For the times, they are a-changin'.

Today was one with more reflection over the past than usual.

Following an average day (swimming then school), I headed off to the State Library to see what they had on the My Lai massacre (HEX). With that accomplished (for the record, they didn't have much of what I was looking for - but then they never do... Fisher Library all the way!!) I was in the city with nothing to do. And since it was a wednesday, I decided it would be an idea to drop into SCC (Sydney Children's Choir) for a visit.

With the annual Christmas choral extravaganza taking place in a week, rehearsal was fully in swing. During the first half I helped the supervisors sort the red choral robes (so unspeakably bad, but yet so good - it's kind of like Stockholm Syndrome: you find yourself inexplicably attached to them) into height order so as to facilitate the allocation thereof.

As the allocation took place, I had an opportunity to chat with choristers whom I hadn't seen since the choir's 21st anniversary concert back in late june. Sitting in on the rehearsal for part of the second half showed me how much had changed in the 18 or so months since I aged out of the SCC - there were new kids everywhere, all the male soprani I remember were now off in the marvellous magical land of Alto 2 (guess which section I was section leader of back in the day...), and about to leave because they no longer really qualified as trebles... It was somewhat depressing. It made me feel old, and I thoroughly dislike feeling old.

I then happened to spot an old friend waiting outside the rehearsal room (Vox, the Sydney Philarmonia's youth choir has rehearsals wednesday evenings after SCC), and so I exited for a chat (but not after Lyn (our fearsome and awe inspiring conductor) noticed me and had everyone say hello... I love getting the alumna treatment).

Angus and I started in the SCC back in 1999 when we were in kindergarten, and both about two feet tall and blond. Now of course, he's still blond and significantly taller, and I'm still stunted and short... And my marvellous Jew-fro is gone... But seriously. He knew me back when I did things like turn up to a rehearsal and announce loudly, and in a tone of indignant socialism "Did you know that they're putting a GST on breast pumps?!" (In my defence, I was five or six. This of course didn't stop Lyn bringing that little anecdote up at the 21st anniversary concert... Luckily she didn't name me. It was only after that I found out she was talking about me. I must say I had completely repressed that gem of a memory). Good times... Good times.

It was great remembering the old days of Opera House christmas concerts with the horrid red robes and the nauseatingly kitschy electric candles we all had to make us all look angelic and such... the days when supervisors stood waiting in the wings to drag the bodies of the choristers who passed out from heatstroke off the stage... back in the day where there were only seven choirs in the SCC structure... as compared with the current 20 or so.

It made me realise just how much I miss being part of choir. Bloody expletiving HSC.

And then this evening, whilst on facebook, I was facebook chatting with one of my friends from my latest hospital stint, and the following was said:
Kelsey: ADELA I thought of that song the other day
You know the times are changing song
And almost cried because I realised how much I missed you

She was referring to Bob Dylan's "The Times, They Are A-Changin'" which I spent a lot of time singing whilst we were stuck in hospital (I had a ukelele with me, and I had a repertoire of about six songs... stuff got repeated.), and even ended up calligraphising on a 2 metre piece of paper which now hangs above the door in the classroom (hospital sucks, and it helps to have a reminder that everything is transient, including medical incarceration).

And to be honest, the song affects me the same way. Every time it comes up on my ipod, I remember all the girls I spent 8 weeks living with and how much I miss them.
It also reminded me of just how quickly things change. Change is scary and unfamiliar. To be honest, I wish everything would just stay the same.

I wish I were still a cute little blond six-year-old with socialist tendencies, I wish my blood still did what it was meant to, and most of all, I wish my dad were still alive. The times, they are a-changin', but I really wish they weren't.

The Aftermath of Spec

2010-11-28T16:50:00.000-08:00

Schools Spectacular was week. For marching band, that meant 55 hours of band from Tuesday through Saturday.
Not only that, it also meant crazy sunburn for everyone.
I'm doing a recap of spec on the MMB blog: Loud and Proud.

For anyone still enrolled in a NSW state high school who is interested in joining, I totally recommend it. Marchign band is by far the most enjoyable activity I do, and not only that, the Department of Sports and Recreation classifies marching band as an extreme sport.

So join up! Google: "Millennium Marching Band apply 2011" and fill out the webform. Ignore where it says that applications are closed - they're still open for a while.

Success and Mad Skillzzz

2010-11-04T21:17:00.000-07:00

I finished the vest. It is so grandma-esque that I think it's the epitome of cool.
Next stop: beanie. Then gloves, then another three daleks.
I need to find something better to do with my life.

Ce Qu'a Passé Recennement

2010-10-31T18:40:00.000-07:00

I would make such an amazing 1950s housewife. I knit, I sew, I bake; I can organise charity fundraisers like you wouldn't believe; I can write with exceeding prettiness; and I am totally HBIC.

For example, recently, I've been knitting a vest, the pattern for which I got off of the Vogue Knitting website (VogueKnits - my new favourite magazine). It's going to be pastel pink and Bitchen as.

The colour choice has apparently surprised some people (by whom I refer to my benchmates in rollcall, George and Taylor). This is because I looked through my closet recently and realised that I have very few colours when it comes to my clothing. The majority of my T-shirts are black, my jeans are dark, I have a grand total of 4 brightly coloured shirts, 3 of which are long sleeved, and of them, two of which are so low cut that I can only wear them in the depths of winter lest I sustain cleavage burn - an incredibly irritating area to get sunburnt.

This monochromaticism, combined with the fact that the suburban Soccer-Mum look is one that I seem to be able to pull off (Pam from TrueBlood is totally my style icon - although only with regard to what she wears that isn't made of black leather), has inspired me to get knitting. I haven't knitted and actual garment since I made a cardigan a couple of years ago ofer the course of two hospital admissions (a cardigan which, for the record, I have never worn, but which makes my sisters the envy of all their friends when they wear it. I don't see why, in my opinion it makes them look like a horizontally striped gumdrop from the eighties... but I digress) and so I decided to get back on the figurative horse, and return to knitting, this time using patterns that I like.

Also, with Sarah's (the one who continually gets referenced in The Week) 18th coming up, I knitted her a Dalek stuffed toy. It's about two feet tall, and replete with plunger, whisk and eye stalk. Not to mention, a hell of a lot better looking than the ones on the link. There are bound to be photos from Sarah's party, I'll upload one if I remember. I'll be making another one for Sophia (also of The Week) when her 18th rolls along.

Finally, with regard to knitting, I'm finishing off a fuzzy beanie for Koby, who soon after Formal will be heading off to America for a while, and being somewhere up north (Iowa I think??) will be neading much external warming paraphenalia. I had started some crazy bobbly socks, also c/o VogueKnits, but they've gone to the back burner, along with my white gloves, which I had initially made somewhat shoddily, so I undid them and started afresh. The second run of them is an improvement, but I probably won't be motivated to finish them before winter rolls around again. Perhaps I'll get them done in time for formal... No matter.

Just today, I got around to looking at the blog of my marvellously talented friend Anne. You can find it here. I heard that she had a blog after seeing the amazing nails she had created for Sam, and let me just say that she blows my skillz right out of the water. I mean I'm impressed with myself if I manage to paint my nails whilst not getting nailpolish on my skin. Dayumm.

Bugger. And hurrah?

2010-10-26T22:07:00.000-07:00

Due to the mildly frightening array of tests I must undergo on friday, I can't go to the Reclaim the Night march. At least I still got the free shirt.
On the plus side, these tests might actually find shit out about why I keep getting so sick... Just think, I may never be hospitalised again.
Wouldn't that be nice.

Mild Fail On My Behalf

2010-10-24T23:10:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting lately, and for that I am sorry.
Anywhom...

Today I went to a forum on feminism. Apart from a Feminazi teacher from NSGHS, it was quite interesting.

So onto the reason for this post: this friday evening (29/10) is the evening of the Reclaim the Night march which aims to help to eradicate sexual violence towards women.

It's a non-autonomous march, which means that men who believe in respecting the rights of women can join the march and show their support.

It's 6.00 pm on friday, going from Town Hall to Martin Place. Join us as we aim to reclaim the night.

Contemplations of Matricide

2010-09-25T04:43:00.000-07:00

I'm going back into hospital. Suffice to say I hate my mother.

The Week Part I

2010-09-12T18:28:00.000-07:00

Last week's Week will be slightly late, although as a bit of a sample, I direct you to the MMB blog which I write.

My Namèd Stick

2010-09-08T18:57:00.000-07:00

I have a name for my stick.

I wanted to name it after one of the Furies (who - interesting historical sidebar - were born from the droplets of blood in the sea resulting from Cronos' castration of his father, Uranus, the separated appendage having been tossed into the ocean), so my options were Tisiphone, Megaera and Allecto.

Megaera would have, in my opinion, led to too many parallels being drawn with Hercules (the disney extravaganza), so that option was out.

Tisiphone did wage some righteous slaughter in Aeneid X, but Virgil described her as pale. My stick is predominantly black. That just wouldn't have meshed.

And thus, although J K Rowling got there first, my stick is named Allecto the Destroyer (because Monica suggested 'the Destroyer' and it had a nice ring to it).

Here's a photo. My stick's the black one.

My Nameless Stick

2010-09-04T21:34:00.000-07:00

I got a Lacrosse stick today. At long expletiving last. It's black with silver and yellow. It matches my mouthguard. It's awesome.

It requires a name. So far the ideas are:

Biggus Dickus
Lord Archibald
The Basilisk

Input muchly welcome.

People v. Inanimate Objects

2010-09-03T00:24:00.000-07:00

My Mao alarmclock died. I am unimpressed.

It also means that I must now find another inanimate object to pit myself and others against. And I've found the perfect one: my pencil case.

It's the 1962 edition Encyclopaedia Britannica, Vol. 7; hollowed out, with my stationery inside. And people can't seem to open it without it attacking them.

Case in point this afternoon: I was at Hurstville station waiting for a bus to get me home when I ran into one of the ex-Marists (Kogarah Marist College, a Catholic boy's high school relatively close to St. G) who now attends Sydney Boys. Upon looking quizzically at the old encyclopaedia tied closed with a shoelace which was on top of my folder, I informed him it was my pencil case, at which point he tried to open it. And failed.

Pencil case: 1. Humanity: 0.

After showing him how to undo the shoelace, he opened the cover... at which point a highlighter jumped (yes, jumped. I shit you not) out.

Pencil case: 2. Humanity: still 0.

The funny thing is that I never have any trouble with it. I suppose it's because it respects its maker.

The Week

2010-09-03T00:11:00.000-07:00

There isn't much by way of the funnies this week due to the fact that I've been knitting and writing parody songs for AUJS (Australian Union of Jewish Students - it's a uni thing that Sarah's directing) Revue 2010: The Shulshank Rejewsion.

No, I jest. The likelihood of it being called that is minimal at best. Other name options are:
Jewno (Juno)
Jews (Jaws)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Jew (guess which movie we got that idea from)
No Country for Old Jews
Gentlemen Prefer Jews
The Jews Brothers (Blues Brothers)
etc. Basically if there's a Jew pun to be made, we've tried it.

And onto The Week!!!

We were in Latin, as we are wont to be when something funny happens. I had asked Sir when the song Mambo Number 5 had come out.
Sir: It would have been the late nineties. I remember it playing at my year 12 formal.
Soap: (in an amazed tone) You had formals back then??
Sir: (in that bitterly ironic tone he tends to use a lot around us) Yes, Sophia. We wore our best loincloths and draped the hide of a freshly slaughtered deer over our backs.
I laughed for a solid five minutes.

Later that lesson, Sophia put her headband over her eyes, turned to Elsa and whispered the following:
Soap: Elsa, I'm a cyborg.
She assumed none of us could hear her. Unfortunately for her, she whispered it at the exact moment our class was completely silent. So sir responded thus:
Sir: (stage whisper) Sophia, we can hear you.

And then on friday in LEX...
Sir: I can't afford to give you wine, you boozehound.
(That was the gist of a Horace poem about Virgil... Well my class found it funny.)

The Week

2010-08-27T05:46:00.000-07:00

Returning to last week's discussion of raunch in metaphysical poetry, our distinguished teacher had this to say, much to our horror...
Sir: A bit of raunch is an important part of any consenting adult relationship.
Me: Can I quote you on that one, Sir?
Sir: I'd rather you didn't.

Today was Harry Potter dress up day (long story there). I dressed up as Professor Umbridge. Sarah dressed up as a basilisk using a sock puppet with eyes stuck on.

For the record, Mr Mo looks like an older, scarless version of Harry Potter with nicer glasses.

At the beginning of class, Sarah stuck the puppet in Sir's face. He hissed at it. He then told us that it was our problem we didn't speak parseltongue.

About 10 minutes later we were divided into pairs and each put on a computer in order to do some practice exam collaboration. Monica was in the classroom because she enjoys our company and secretly regrets dropping extension.

Sarah and I were on pair, Sophia and Elsa were the other. We were seated at computers when it was noted that the class had been inadvertently segregated: Monica (Philipino), Sophia (Vietnamese) and Elsa (Chinese) were all at one end of the room; Sir (at least 4th generation Australian), Sarah (She lives in the Shire. That says something about her lineage) and I (European ancestors is about as close as I can get) were on the other.

I am unfortunately unable to document what Mr Mo said next, because it is impossible not to be misconstrued. But it was hilarious.

The Week US Edition

2010-08-27T05:42:00.000-07:00

I've been promising this for a while, and here it is:

Intercom on the Caltrain to San Jose on Monday 2 August: Attention all Caltrain passengers. If you have a monthly pass for July, it expires at noon on the first business day of the next month. Which is today. So it expired about 10 minutes ago.

You definitely don't get that on Cityrail.

Me Love Cookie

2010-08-27T05:37:00.000-07:00

Recently I have been making a Cookie Monster hat in preparation for year 12 trivia night and it's dress-up theme. I just finished it. I'll put up pictures as soon as someone takes a photo and uploads it to Facebook (my internet being what it is, there's no point in me doing it, I won't actually upload the photo for a couple of months).

Suffice to say it's AWESOME.

The Week (old school style)

2010-08-19T23:09:00.000-07:00

As of today, I am back at school (cue much rejoicing). I'm not going to comment on the fact that according to my new timetable, I now have two doubles of maths on a friday.

And so, The Week!!!

We were in latin (as I inadvertantly am whenever something funny happens) and Mr Mo was a touch... different.
Me: Sir, are you high on cough medication?
Sir: Yes.
Me: Really?
Sir: No.
Me: Would you like me to put that on the record?
Sir: Maybe.

Later, we were in Latin, and John Donne's Busy Old Fool came up. Apparently one of the english teachers had read it to his class and had been rather... enthusiastic in doing so.
Sir was defending the validity of the poem, as he is wont to do.
Sir: It's a bit raunchy. Raunchy is good.
Me: Not when it's coming from you, sir.
Sir: That's not what my wife says.
At which point we all cracked up.

And then we got onto the topic of Cicero and Catullus' mutual burnign hatred.
Mr Mo tried to describe their reasons for hating each other. Apparently Cicero was a conservative, whereas Catullus...wasn't.
Sir: Cicero would have been a John Howard voter. Catullus would have voted for the Greens.
Me: Could we take it one step further and say that he'd vote for the HEMP party? [Help End Marijuana Prohibition]
Soap & Sarah: Sex party!
Sir: I think he might have had a few sex parties himself.

The conversation then took it's logical course... to Harry Potter.
Basically, Catullus had put the word patronus in his poem regardign Cicero. In this case we were to take patronus to mean lawyer as opposed to patron.
Sir: Expecto Patronum - I'm waiting for a lawyer.

And that's from one day of school. I'll be back next friday with a week worth of The Week.

And because I'm in the running to win Curmudgeon Of The Week (scroll down until you get to the pertinent post), here's a photo of me, because my evil *insert numerous multilingual expletives of great magnitude and ferocity* dial-up sucks five pronged demon wangs, and won't let me attach things to emails.

Dentistry

2010-08-18T22:00:00.000-07:00

I have a long and colourful history with my dentist, stemming from when she spent five unanaesthetised hours reimplanting my teeth into my damaged jaw, making caps to replace all the bits that snapped off, and then splinting the resulting mishmash of tooth, fibreglass and high calcium concrete together.

This was continued when she had to replace one of those caps earlier this year (on my birthday, if I may add) because it had been sealed incorrectly and was starting to have problems.

And I have a feeling it's going to be furthered because I'm getting a new tooth.

I first noticed it a few weeks ago when I realised I had a strange lump under my gum behind the back molar in quadrant 4. A few weeks later, there's a tooth starting to erupt.

I've had all my adult teeth since I was somewhere in the vicinity of age eleven. That means this tooth can only be one thing. A wisdom tooth.

I'm seventeen years old (technically seventeen years, one month and ten days, but who's quibbling). I AM WAY TOO YOUNG FOR WISDOM TEETH.

I am unimpressed. Jaw, way to fuck me over again.

Adela vs. Communist Machinery, Round 2

2010-08-17T20:02:00.001-07:00

The chairman Mao clock is windup. I neglected to wind it yesterday after it woke me up (I'd wound it before going to sleep, I hadn't thought it necessary). When I went to sleep at 11.30 last night, I found it had stopped at 11.00

Tricky move, Chairman. Let's call this one a draw.

AngryAngryMurderEyes

2010-08-17T05:29:00.000-07:00

I have water in my ear canal. I'm assuming it's left over from swimming. It's pissing me off.

Grrr.

Cookie Redemption

2010-08-17T05:24:00.000-07:00

I've recently been bitching about my inability to make Biscotti.

I've finally worked out my problem: completely ignore what the cookbook says and just improvise. As it was, the previous times I'd failed I'd already replaced the almond meal with ground hazelnuts, the beaten eggs with superstrong coffee and added chocolate.

As it turns out what I was neglecting to do was apportion the batter at about 1/3 of the size I was instructed and double the cooking time.

At last success. The final score: Biscotti 2; Adela 1.

Not ideal, but at least I won the war.

Communism

2010-08-16T14:26:00.000-07:00

When Mimi returned from China, she brought with her a windup Chairman Mao alarm clock, which she then gave to me. It's awesome. Mao's hand waves as the seconds tick. It is a truly awesome clock. The only issue is the alarm function.

I went swimming this morning, and so last night I set the alarm for 0510. This morning, the alarm went off... at 0445.

Score at the end of round 1: communism 1, sleep 0.

You win this round, chairman.

100 and a Blog Quiz

2010-08-15T19:49:00.000-07:00

I was reading one of the blogs I follow and I decided to send in an application to be named Curmudgeon of the week.

This also allows me to do my 100th post in style.

Name: Adela (I've also been referred to as 'the doorbitch of Hades')

Age: 17

Provenance: Sydney, Australia

Occupation: Student

When did you first self-identify as a curmudgeon?
Last year, when as head of the school's student council, I told my counterpart at our brother school (all girls school - we have to collaborate) where he could shove it. That's also the moment I started being referred to as 'That evil psychotic bitch from St George' by some of the lovely (and I use that term loosely) boys from Sydney Tech.

Who’s the curmudgeon (living or dead, historical or contemporary) you most identify with and why?
Paul Keating. Anyone with that kind of vocabulary deserves to be deified.

What do you hate that other people inexplicably love?
Emoticons. They give me murder eyes. Instant messaging. Voicemail messages. Novelty ringtones (unless it's Verdi's Dies Irae).

You are Dante. What, in order from least to most excruciating, are your nine circles of hell?

I'm going to go one step further and do all the little facets of Dante's hell.

Vestibule: People who don't register to vote. Voting is a privilege. Use it.

Here we cross Acheron, the first of the five rivers in Hell. Charon, ferryman thereof, does Hades a favour here by weeding out the gullible (i.e. the people who pay him for their passage before they're on the other side). If you're gullible enough to fall for a ponzi scheme or any other type of fraud that turns up in your inbox, you deserved it.

1. Squealers. We all know at least one. Those people who erupt into ear-splittingly high-pitched squealing at the drop of a hat. Seriously, people. Curb your enthuasiasm. And take it down a few octaves.

And now into the realms of incontinence. Thanks Mr Alighieri. I couldn't have named it better myself.

2. Kitsch. Be afraid Hello Kitty. Be markedly afraid.

3. Popular music. If it has a drum beat created by a machine, it deserves to burn eternally. Also, if it's a boy who's waiting for his danglies to drop, he shouldn't be singing. Unless he's an a choir which only performs classical music. There's only one use for boy soprani: getting them to sing the castrato parts because the Catholic church outlawed castration.

4. Politicians (in democracies). They say that those who can't do, teach. Well, those who can't function in mainstream society as useful human beings go into politics. Even then...

5. Psychics, Astrologers and anyone else who works in the industry of flimflammery that is the 'supernatural'. Get a job.

The realms of incontinence are cut off at this point by the river Styx. Once we've crossed the Styx with its vile marsh choked with reeds (thanks Virgil), we enter the city of Dis.

6. Professional sports players who get injured and then whinge about it. I'm looking at you, soccer. Drink a cup of concrete and harden the fuck up.

In order to continue, we here cross Phlegethon, a river of FIRE!!!!!!!! I have to say that Pluto did a great job with the interior decorating.

7. Dictators. Let's face it, seizing control without an actual mandate from the masses (NB: the military don't count) just isn't very nice.

Here lies the Abyss. I'm assuming it's big, dark, possibly dank and empty inside. In other words it's a reality TV contestant.

The next 2 circles are the lands of fraud according to Dante. I suppose if you squint and tilt your head a little, my last two circles of hell could be interpreted to belong accordingly.

Circle 8, the Malebolge, is 'an ampitheatre-shaped pit of despair wholly of stone and of an iron colour' (Dante). Cheery place it is.

8. Plagiarisers. Interesting historical sidebar: counterfeiters are a kind of plagiariser. In medieval times, counterfeiters were punished by being boiled alive in hot oil. Guess what point I'm trying to get across...

There is then the Giants Well (reasonably self explanatory); followed by Tartarus. The ninth circle, reserved in my hell system for:

9. Genocide. The people who order it, the people who carry it out and the people who cover it up.

This is also where we find the river Cocytus, hateful with black slime and its sluggish flow... (Thanks again, Virgil)

If you had the power to sign into law an amendment prohibiting a specific human behavior (i.e. using a Bluetooth or singing karaoke), what would you outlaw? Protective sports gear. So you're playing a violent sport. Take it like a man and get on with it.

Let's lighten up. What makes you all warm and fuzzy inside? (Your heart can’t be COMPLETELY charred.)
Sleeping babies.

What's your favorite curse word/phrase?
Holy cock! (a marvellously versatile expletive)

Essay Question: Please write a 100 word open letter to an object, person, or other entity that has recently incurred your wrath.

I'll keep this one brief.

Germaine Greer:

Find something better to do with your time.

Also, eunuchs can't be female. There's paraphenalia lacking. It just doesn't work.

Piano Lessons and Typing

2010-08-12T18:30:00.000-07:00

I had piano lessons when I was about five. The only thing about it that benefited me was the fact that I could read music at the end of it. I couldn't play for shit, that's for sure. I've had to teach myself on that front.

The only lasting effect (again, apart from the ability to read music) is the fact that these days, when I finish typing a sentence, I'll do that floaty hand thing pianists do.

It's kind of weird. I've also noticed that I use correct piano hand shape when I'm actually typing.

End result: I'm towards the lower reaches of mediochre with regard to playing piano, but I type with panache.

Also, thanks to YY's blog, I no longer have any desire to see Inception. I in fact have a valid excuse not to, which means my older sister isn't going to drag me along to another bloody Leonardo DiCaprio movie. Thank the heavens.

Five-Pronged Demon Wangs

2010-08-11T06:21:00.001-07:00

I couldn't resist. This story must be told by me otherwise I'll be portrayed as some kind of crazy deviant or something.

For whatever reason, during the course of our study of Journeys, we got onto the topic of witchcraft. Or the legal system. Or something. I forget, but it was relevant.

I referenced a passage I had read in Sadakat Kadri's The Trial. (London, 2006), pp. 118-119.

There it is: Some of the most graphic details [of Sabbaths] came courtesy of an inquisitor called Pierre de Lancre, commissioned by King Henry IV in January 1609 to cleanse the Labourd region of southwestern France. De Lancre was a man of rivalrous temperament, and over the course of a four month investigation that saw him interview hundreds of suspects and send more than fifty of them to the stake, he rarely overlooked an opportunity to outdo the discoveries of his contemporaries. the sabbaths to which his suspects were involved attracted thousands of male and female witches, who danced the night away alongside smoke-wreathed wizards and gyrating lines of fauns, snakes, dragons and tigers. He agreed with other demonologists that Satan was especially likely to manifest himself as a billy-goat, but the goat that attended his sabbaths had up to five horns, including an illuminated one at the centre of its forehead. De Lancre also lost himself in pornographic reveries for paragraphs on end, although no demonologist lacked for libido, his tales of sodomitic beasts and women shared between men and demons are in a class of their own. He devoted particular attention to Satan's penis, and it is probably fair to say that he gleans more information on the topic that anyone else in history.

That is not to say that others lacked interest. As far back as 1521, Sylvester Prieirias had warned that Satan often appeared with a forked penis to double his debauchery or a triple-pronged one to maximise it [Robert E.L. Masters, Eros and Evil. The sexual psychopathy of witchcraft (Baltimore, 1974), p. 17.]. Nicolas Rémy noted that the diabolical organ could be as long as a kitchen utensil, 'even when only half in erection', and as thick as a spindle. Like several other demonologists, he also commented on the temperature of Satan's semen, so bitterly cold that women recoiled in shock upon receiving it [Nicolas Rémy, Demonolatry, tr. E. Allen Ashwin (London, 1930), pp.12-14].

Sixteen-year-old Jeanette d'Abadie, while trying to explain to de Lancre just how depressing and painful she had found her sexual experiences with the Devil, had told him that the organ in question was over a yard long, coiled like a snake, and covered in scales. Fifteen-year-old Marie de Marigrane had recalled it to be half-iron and half-flesh. Petry de Linarre got the impression that it was made of pure horn, which is why it made women scream so much. De Lancre's competitive instincts did not desert him even here. After reporting that a teenager called Marguerite had found the Devil to be hung like a mule, with an appendage as long and thick as an arm, he recalled that the demons found by Hebri Bouget in the Franche-Comté rarely had penises bigger than a finger. 'The witches of the Labourd,' mused de Lancre, 'are better served by Satan than those of the Franche-Comté.'

There. My remarks were taken out of context by my classmates. Never did I say the demon had a five-pronged penis. The fact that that certain version of events was the one recounted ad infinitum during Modern History merely goes to show that my classmates ought to listen harder when I reference medieval texts regarding witch burning.

Here's an easy way to remember it for future reference: French Satan = 5 horns + 3 penises.

The British Satan was utterly underwhelming in comparison.

Chemical Warfare

2010-08-11T06:16:00.001-07:00

The odour of chlorine oozing from my pores is driving me slightly loopy.

Here's why: I've been swimming for a total of 4.5 hours this week, and I already smell like the pool.

I hate to think of what I'll smell like by the end of the month.

On the upside, 4.5 hours later and I'm pretty much back to the standard I was at in March when I stopped swimming for the winter (and because I cbf getting up in the mornings because I'd stay up mad late doing homework...but I digress). But again, that's not saying much. Because I suck numerous five-pronged demon wangs (talk to any of the people in my year 11 English class. That's the last time I bring up medieval texts on witchcraft.) at sprints.

Things I Am Not

2010-08-11T05:55:00.000-07:00

As any of you who happened to be reading my blog around the time of Passover will know that I have issues getting back to my Eastern European culinary roots.

As it turns out, I also suck at making savory Italian biscuits. Namely the ones Toni always seems to have during French class and Sabrina always seems to be eating in French class.

Basically I found a recipe for them, and I thought 'why not give it a go?'

Bad Idea.

Basically, this had taught me that I will never be a good Eastern/Central European. Bubbe Sarah would be rolling in her grave. As would Tante Adela.

Why is it I have to come from a lineage of women who could make wheat free noodles without them tasting like glue?

Swimming

2010-08-09T02:25:00.001-07:00

Today I went back to swim training in a desperate attempt to expedite the speed in which I get over jet lag.

Holy shrieking expletives it was painful.

In other news, I'm pretty much hooked on True Blood after watching the two episodes of it QANTAS happened to have on their entertainment database.

Tik Tok by AD€LA

2010-08-08T19:00:00.000-07:00

I've got two more posts to do about America, but first I'd like to publish this spoof I wrote on the plane. It's to the tune of Tik Tok (as you can doubtlessly surmise from the title).

Wake up in the morning feeling like Paul Keating
(Hey what up, man)
Grab my briefcase, I’m out the door, I’ve got to go to some meetings
(Let’s go)
Before I leave, I grab my keys and a Canberra map
Cause when I win the election, I ain’t coming back

Italian leather all over my toes, toes
Professionals tailor all of my clothes, clothes
Talk to the press on my iPhones, phones
Photo-opping, kissing lots of babies
Backed up by my party
The opposition wish they were me…

On top of the polls
Because I have castiron balls
Alright, I’mma fight
Up until election night
Tick tock on the clock
‘Till the caucus room is locked
For vo-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ting

Ain’t got a care in the world except for immigration
Not a problem ‘cause I’m saved by the psyche of the nation
The conservatives think that refugees aren’t all good
And Australia's fine with sticking them in Villawood

I’m talking about neutralising threats, threats
Creating budget safety nets, nets
Choosing portfolios for my political pets…
Better known as my front benchers
Most of them need to wear dentures
The front bench all need dentures
Front bench need dent…

On top of the polls
Because I have castiron balls
Alright, I’mma fight
Up until election night
Tick tock on the clock
‘Till the caucus room is locked
For vo-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ting

For what it’s worth
The Lodge’s my turf
And the voters
Yeah, they love me

With well placed ads
Pandering to fads
Got a Twitter page
Yeah they love me

For what it’s worth
The Lodge’s my turf
And the voters
Yeah, they love me

With well placed ads
Pandering to fads
Pandering to fads

Now, the polling don’t start ‘till I walk in

On top of the polls
Because I have castiron balls
Alright, I’mma fight
Up until election night
Tick tock on the clock
‘Till the caucus room is locked
For vo-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ting

On top of the polls
Because I have castiron balls
Alright, I’mma fight
Up until election night
Tick tock on the clock
‘Till the caucus room is locked
For vo-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ting

I'll get around to making a video of it eventually.

Yippee Hooray

2010-08-06T15:39:00.000-07:00

You know when a guy is glancing around a room, his eyes pass over you and then a moment later he jerks his head back to look at you?

Totally just happened to me. I need to wear dresses and heels more often.

Today

2010-08-05T18:13:00.000-07:00

Was filled with the drudgery of manual labour.

I began by helping out with sign in at the conference, between the hours of 8 and 11, at which point there was community service day. Whilst doing sign in, I had some lovely conversation with the kids from University of Nebraska, Lincoln.

At community service day, where we were divided randomly into groups and then sent to go de-weed the terraces along the guadeloupe river (A few miles thereof. Good thing there was a lot of us). I bonded with a bunch of students from Great Valley State University - one of the largest universities in eastern Michigan (that's said in a tongue in cheek manner, just to clarify). At the end of the two hours of pulling up really fierce weeds and hacking at stumps with hoes (don't even bother, we made just about every joke imaginable), after taking the group photos of the GVSU kids, I was asked if I was old enough to go get a beer with them (They knew I was in high school, but not that I was seventeen). I had to reply in the negative, because they're bitches about carding here in Cali.

Incidentally, before we started the community service, they showed us a slideshow outlining wha tthe different tools were. Because apparently some people don't know what rakes, shovels and hoes are. Hoes perhaps is understandable, but who not only cannot recognise a shovel but also does not know its function? Seriously.

There was an accounting careers fair at 4.30 in the afternoon. The dress was 'office casual', so I wore nice jeans, a white blouse... and my sparkly red heels. Because I'd brought them on the offchance they'd come in handy, and so they did.

So today has been a great success. I was invited out for beer by a bunch of college students, and as I walking back to the elevator after the accounting fair, a male student with a deeply southern accent enquired 'How're you doin'?'

This is not an isolated event. I've been spending a hell of a lot of time responding to when good looking southern boys (I swear, all the southern boys seem to be good looking) enquire as to my welfare. Heavens, their accents are adorable.

Australiana

2010-08-04T22:49:00.000-07:00

Today was like Australia-fest for me.

For two reasons.

One: I found a store selling solely Australian goods. It was strange. There were things like 2L Cottees cordial for $13.50 USD. Tim Tams for $9.

Black and Gold brand Musk sticks...for $5.50

It was expensive up the shizzay.

Two: Mum decided we would have Indian for dinner. In the restaurant (well it called itself a bistro, but whatevvs) there was a television, showing a program called 'Australia: land beyond time'. It had every Australian nature cliché imaginable.

DI people (latin joke there), this is California. Find something else to consumerise.

Fruit

2010-08-04T18:12:00.000-07:00

As anyone who has cooked anything dessertlike from an American cookbook will realise, they all seem to involve raspberries or blueberries or other heinously expensive fruit.

That's because here, it's all cheap as.

1 kg of blueberries for $5. 1 kg cherries for $5. 2 kg strawberries for $8. It's insane.

The Wonders of Consumerism

2010-08-04T09:54:00.000-07:00

As I've been going about my merry way, I've just been jotting down random stuff that I find interesting.

Pay by weight frozen yoghourt: this is in all the food courts of supermarkets and also in standalone stores. You get a cup, and fill it with frozen yoghurt of whatever flavour you desire (there are about 20), you then weight your cup, the cup weight is subtracted to give the net weight of your yoghurt, and then you pay by the weight.

Smirnoff Savannah Tea: I saw an ad for this on a billboard. It's iced tea with lemon...with vodka. I don't see why they can't just do it themselves.

Speaking of which - Alcohol licencing: in any regular supermarket in america, there will be a liquor aisle. Not in a separate shop. In the supermarket, right next to the dried fruit and baked goods. And it's significantly cheaper than Aus.

Costco: A warehouse superstore which sells anything and everything. Some of the marvels I came across instore were...
60 inch flatscreen LCD, LED backlit televisions. $2999 (plus another 10% tax. Their GST isn't included in pricing. It means everything is about 10% more expensive than it seems.
Tea bags. In 300 packs.
5 gum: we get it in 12 sticks per pack. They have it in 10 packs of 15 sticks in cooler flavours than we have yet.
Makeup: 2 mascaras for $10.
Petrol: Costco sells ULP for $3.00 per GALLON. That's 75c per litre. Even non-costco petrol only costs about $3.25 for premium. And they complain that their petrol is expensive.

They've All Gone To Look For America

2010-08-03T09:57:00.000-07:00

Takeoff was somewhat delayed due to some people who were transferring flights.

Whilst walking to the gate, it had seemed we would be travelling on one of Qantas' new A380s. But then we kept walking and saw that that plane was for QF11 to LA. QF73 to San Fransisco (my flight) was on one of those faintly old and incredibly cramped Boeing 747-400s. And it was completely full.

Taking up a reasonable chunk of Economy was (and someone had better tell Koby about this) the Sydney baseball team for the U25ish age group.

The inflight movie selection was underwhelming. I watched How To Train Your Dragon, which was fantastic, and Wog Boys 2, which was rather funny thanks to my wog roots; but they were about it.

The plane took off at 1400 EST, and by about 2130 EST, I was completely exhausted. So I had a nap, only to be awoken at about 0030 EST for breakfast. Strangely, I was quite awake regardless of the fact that I'd only had 3h sleep.

We arrived at 0300 EST [wednesday] or 1000 WST [tuesday] (NB: from now on, all times will be in Western Standard), spent a very long time in customs (and it would have been longer had I not used my Canadian citizenship, and mum her Canadian Landed Immigrant status), and eventually got onto the BART train station at the airport (Bay Area Rapid Transport - they didn't just nickname it).

The trains were lovely. One level, well set out, spacious, well ventillated and a hell of a lot more fast than Cityrail. They were powered by an electrified 3rd rail. This becomes relevant later.

From SFO, we caught a red line train to San Bruno, followed by a yellow line train to Millbrae, at which point we tranferred to Caltrain to get to San Jose/Diridon.

I'd like to comment on the design of the train stations. A fusion of Brutalism and dingy neo-classical Cityrail.

And as for the Caltrains... Giant double decker diesel drawn (sorry, I had to keep going once I'd started) behemoths which (and it may have just been that car) smell of ammonia. Ick. Ickickickickick. The countryside is however quite pretty. Very Californian.

And everyhting here is huge. The stores, the roads, the schools, which all have aroung 3-4k students. The schools here are purty.

I wrote that at 1155 and I was still quite awake. Mum, on the other hand, who only slept during the last hour of the flight was failing miserably to stay awake.

The rest of the day was spent going through giant shopping centres. There was a Westfield, and all I can say is the Australian ones are set out better.

That's it for today. Or perhaps not. Who knows. Tata all.

I Go To Be In America

2010-08-01T03:25:00.000-07:00

Just like a Sondheim [and Bernstein] song that seems adorable and catchy the first few times you hear it, and after that becomes the bane of your existence because it's permanently entrenched in your head on a neverending loop... I'm going to the US tomorrow.

Don't ask how the extended metaphor relates. I don't even know.

But yeah. I'll be in San Jose CA for a week. Tagging along to a conference for some international organisation of...wait for it...commerce students.

At least I get to go (thankyou frequent flier system).

So yeah. I may or may not be able to access the internet during the next week, but I will be jotting down anything remarkable that happens and I'll post it eventually. Who knows. I might even get enough material to do The Week: US Edition.

But somehow I doubt it.

At least I have Cicero, Virgil, Catullus and Horace to keep me company.

Where are you, Mr Dopeyface?

2010-07-30T20:08:00.000-07:00

Guess who I spent an hour and a half trampling today...

Andrew Hanson.

It was awesome. Be watching Yes We Canberra at 9.45 wednesdays on ABC1 or 9.15 Thursdays on ABC2 for the rerun.

It should be on at some point in the next 4 episodes, and failing that, it'll be an extra on the DVD.

The Week

2010-07-30T01:21:00.001-07:00

Having returned to the loving fold of school, I'm back to writing The week.

Hells mother-expletiving yeah.

There was a thing involving Mentos wrappers on the fans. Long story there. I was absent at teh time. Anyway, the next day, when I was in attendance...
Soap: You're really fun on a sugar high [Sir]. We should get more mentos. Sorry, mento. There's only one.
Me: Wouldn't it be mentus?
Soap: Don't even go there.
Sir: Mentus is greek. It would be mentoi.

Sarah: Lustfuel.
She meant lustful. We think.

Horace: A girl, not of your sort, has captured the young man Telephus whom you seek, rich and lustful [this is where the lustfuel comes in], and she holds him chained in pleasant fetters.
Soap: Is he handcuffed.
Sir: *Pinches the bridge of his nose*

Sir [regarding the chariot of the sun, as part of a longish segue about Apollo]: The chariot of the sun is pulled by horses of flaming...
Me: Fire?

Sir: Cicero has two Cs. Ninja has two Ns. Perhaps it's a clever pseudonym.
Sarah: Adela has two As.
Me: I'm not a ninja *Shifty eyes*
Sir: Kafka has two As.
Me: I'm definitely not Kafka.

Sir invoked the name of Chuck Norris.
Soap: WHat would Chuck Norris do?
Me: What would Chuck Norris do... Probably roundhouse kick you, sir. In the face.

I know it's not much, but since I only have 6 hours of class time per week this term, it's all I can do.

Trawling the Bloggesphere

2010-07-29T22:08:00.000-07:00

I've just been clicking on the little 'Next Blog' toggle on my page. Sweet expletiving deity, there are a lot of evangelicals out there.

On the upside: Annie Lennox. She's good. It's like ChickLit for your ears

Things I plan to read:

2010-07-29T21:45:00.000-07:00

All of Mungo MacCallum's back catalogue
Artemis Fowl 7
...And Another Thing (the next Hitch-hiker's Guide book)
The Millennium Trilogy (I just haven't found the time)
The Gutenberg Bible (although the likelihood of that happening is roughly non-existent)

Here's hoping.

What to do?

2010-07-28T23:23:00.000-07:00

Today is StuVac. Whilst my adorably frazzled friends frazzle them selves further by cramming for Trials, which begin tomorrow, I've been studying latin and being bored out of my brain. I'm actually starting to miss panicked study.

At least I have something to do tomorrow. There's a high school debating comp tommorrow at Sydney Uni, which a bunch of my debating buddies will be attending. St George was of course not invited, because let's be honest - debating at st G sucks numerous wangs. Simultaneously.

I will however be there because A: I have nothinb better to do, and B: I am now debating coach for the junior school.

I need to find something better to do with my time.

And Because I'm Fruity in the Head

2010-07-19T20:25:00.000-07:00

I've changed an element of my blog page.

Guess what it is... ;)

That's right. It's so tricky I have a creepy smiley face.

Ho Hum

2010-07-19T20:10:00.000-07:00

Today, as my school age friends will know, is the first day of term 3.

I was rather looking forward to today as I haven't had an actual day of school for about 10 weeks. I was going to have to leave early in order to get myself the 30 km to Westmead via off peak public transport (let's call that 1.5 hours on the conservative side) by 2.45, but today being a tuesday, I'd still be able to attend 7 (of my usual 12 on a tuesday) periods of class before having to leave in order to see if the discharge I've been enjoying over the past two weeks was permanent.

Long story short, mum decided there was no point in me going to school today, and so I spent the morning bumming around Usyd. I was sent to Fisher to look for some textbooks Sarah needed for Uni (it seems UNSW's library system just isn't as good), but the call numbers she had given me were incorrect. Way to fail there.

I did however borrow one of their copies of Girt By Sea: a Quarterly Essay by Mungo (Wentworth) MacCallum about the refugee crisis. I'd been meaning to read that for a while.

I then walked to Town Hall to look for an Angus and Robertson store so that I could use a voucher I'd had for ages. I was hoping to find a Gutenberg Bible journal similar to the one I got last week, but depicting a different print. The range there was shit to put in nicely. I instead bought 'Poll Dancing': MacCallum's review of the 2007 election.

So today hasn't been a total loss. I'll be blogging about the PolCom stuff once I've read it.

King Street and Broadway

2010-07-11T21:30:00.000-07:00

I was at Usyd today, again.

Sarah, who is currently at the AMUNC conference, also at Usyd, realised once we had arrived at the uni that she lacked black flats, in which she would walk from the uni to Newtown, where the various committees of delegates were to be having dinner tonight.

Thus I was dispatched to get her the shoes before 5 pm.

To start with, I walked along King Street looking for Flying Penguin, which is the most fantastic toy store I have ever entered. It's so unspeakably cool. I got a voodoo doll phone charm. It's a brown dinosaur wearing glasses.

On my way back up King Street, I got a tube of silver paint at one of the art stores - I intend to pimp my Ukulele. It's going to be black with silver edging and iridescent bubbles painted on.

I also went to Vinnies. Good lord some of the stuff in there was tacky. I did however get a light blue cotton jumper (same jumper, different colour to the picture). Unfortunately, this means I can't wear them with my one pair of jeans, which are also light blue. I also got some sunglasses which make me look like my aunt Toby, but I'm cool with that.

I then went to Broadway. On the way there, I walked past victoria Park. It has the most fantastic playground I have seen in ages. There's a giant flying fox that you sit on, and a spherical spider's web, and one of those giant tilted dish thingies that you sit on and spin around and all sorts of other marvellous things. I'm totally planning to go for a play tomorrow when it's less damp.

At Broadway, I browsed Dymocks first, and got myself a notebook. It has a print of the Gutenberg bible on it, and the embellishments are 3D with metallic paint and all sorts of awesome illumination. And I got $5.50 off because I had points on my Dymocks card. I then got on with getting Sarah some crappy black flats from Cotton On.

As it turned out, the flats were one for $15 or two for $20, so I got myself a pair in silver. Because I like shiny things. I also got a 3pack of trashy mailpolish for 50c. The colours were black, pink and blue. The pink and blue ones were metallic, so I'm going to use them to paint the bubbles.

I then returned to the University and knitted for half an hour before I was able to give Sarah the shoes. I'm knitting gloves.

Sarah was so impressed with my $3.50 sunnies that I am to get a pair for Mimi to wear when on choir tour.

I did some marvellously fun shopping today. It was good.

Somewhat Dark Creative Visions

2010-07-11T02:29:00.000-07:00

Next year, I will be entering the Royal Arts Show, again for calligraphy. This time, however, I'm planning to enter the 'Off the Wall' section; which is basically for 3D objects involving calligraphy.

My bright idea involves me making a music box, and then covering it with a calligraphised version of the Rammstein song 'Spieluhr'.

My only issue is where I'll be able to find ridiculously fine paintbrushes. One of my cousins reccommends those Games Workshop-type stores, but I'd like to avoid actually entering one of those if I can humanly manage it.

So... If anyone has an idea of where I could source them, I would be muchly greatful.

And Now for an Addendum

2010-07-10T03:28:00.001-07:00

On a whim, I decided to see when All Schools debating trials would be on. They were on the ANZAC Day weekend. Admittedly I was somewhat busy at the time (marching in the city and all) but it's not that difficult for our debatign co-ordinator to PUT AN ANNOUNCEMENT IN ROLL CALL SO WE COULD AT LEAST BE INFORMED OF THESE THINGS.

Dear god, is it that difficult to forward the emails you get from the NSWDU and the Arts Unit to the students who could benefit from them?

And I couldn't help but notice a certain Sydney Girls student was on the state team. I saw her at last year's state trials. And she is a markedly underwhelming debater. Seriously. The worst debater on my school team is still better than her.

I am thoroughly unimpressed.

Anger and Disappointment

2010-07-10T03:02:00.000-07:00

Before I start my rant, I do realise that I'm blogging, which means that my lovely friends are about to be once again burdened with my whining. You guys know I love you.

Aaaaaaaaaanywhom.

As I'm sure you're all aware, I spent almost 8 weeks in hospital. As those who frequent my facebook page will know, I was discharged on monday. This is just background info to make the rest of my rant make more sense.

Since I haven't attended school in ages, I'm somewhat out of touch with the happenings. So I just found out that CHS debating trials are coming up. And I missed the deadline.

Let's be serious here. The debating and public speaking co-ordinators both know that I'm the best they've got (I know I'm blowing my own horn, but it's the truth), and yet I have only been entered in the competitions that I went to the effort of entering myself in.

Let's start with the Lions club Youth of the Year competition. Each school is eligible to enter two students. I was stonewalled by our bitch of a principal because my sheet of extra-curriculars was exponentially more impressive than that of our school captain. IT'S NOT MY FAULT I DO MORE THAN HER. I was somewhat platified however by the assurance that I would be entered in every other public speaking and debating thing that year.

Rostrum Voice of Youth: only the students who entered themselves without the input of the school were registered by the time the deadline came around. Thank heavens I was proactive.

Premier's Debating Challenge: I'm the reason my team has speeches at the end of the hour's prep. Enough said.

Sydney Morning Herald Public Speaking comp.: year 11s were entered. So that they could gain experience. IF THEY'RE IN YEAR 11 AND THEY STILL NEED EXPERIENCE WITH PUBLIC SPEAKING COMPETITIONS, THEN THEY CLEARLY DON'T HAVE WHAT IT TAKES, AND THEY SHOULDN'T BE GIVEN MY SPOTS IN COMPETITIONS.

And now CHS debating trials. Each school is eligible to send three students. Apparently St George only sent one this year. NO MATTER WHO IT IS, I'M BETTER THAN HER. I'M THE BEST DEBATER THIS SCHO0OL HAS, AND IT KILLS ME THAT I'M NOT BEING ALLOWED TO ENTER THESE COMPETITIONS. IT'S RIDICULOUS.

I am the best this school has at talking. It sounds conceited, but there is no-one else at my school who can give a convincing ten minute speech on a topic she doesn't necessarily agree with or even know anything about, a topic which she was given without any time to prepare. I can debate without any preparation whatsoever, I write speeches that adjudicators love. I've had scholarship offers purely on the merit of my speaking ability.

SO WHY AM I NOT BEING ENTERED. JUST BECAUSE I'M NOT THERE TO PESTER THEM DOES NOT MEAN THEY CAN JUST GIVE UP ON ENTERING ME IN COMPETITIONS. I WAS IN HOSPITAL. CUT ME SOME SLACK HERE.

I'm pissed off.

The Next Post

2010-07-09T00:35:00.000-07:00

I realise the photos didn't come up completely. Just click on them and you can see the whole thing :)

A Month in a Day

2010-07-08T23:30:00.000-07:00

Day 1: Favorite actor(s)

Gaspard Ulleil (Hannibal Rising)

Dominic Cooper, Samuel Barnett, Jamie Parker (The History Boys)

Day 2: Favorite movie

The History Boys

Day 3: Favorite musician

Rammstein

Apocalyptica

The SCC. Oh wait... is that me in the picture they have on the website?
Hells yeah it is.

Matti Hyokki. Technically a composer, but what the hell. He's awesome.

Day 4: Favorite album

Anything by the above.

Day 5: Favorite book

How to be a Megalomaniac (Mungo McCallum) (I'm also quite a fan of Poll Dancing by the same author)

Day 6: Favorite food

Day 7: Favorite tv show

Day 8: Pictures of your room

Trust me. It's underwhelming.

Day 9: Picture of a flower in your favorite colour

Day 10: Favourite outfit

Jeans and Gumboots.

Day 11: Meme picture

I don't even know that that entails. I'm clearly not artsy enough.

Day 12: Favorite book quote

"A census taker tried to quantify me once. I ate his liver with Fava beans and a big Amarone."

Hannibal Lecter

Day 13: Favorite recipe

Recipes are for the weak.

Day 14: A childhood picture

Technically I was in year 10, but whatevvs.

Day 15: 2nd favorite movie

Day 16: Something that made you smile this day

Dude. That grammar is FAIL. But anyway:

BAN SOCCER FROM VUVUZELA CONCERTS!

Day 17: Favorite comic

Non Sequitur FTW

Day 18: Favorite board game

Day 19: A favorite memory

Morris: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Me: A human rights activist.

Morris: You'll get shot.

Thanks grandpa.

Day 20: A 10+ year old picture

Can't access them from this internet connection. Suffice to say I was adorable and blonde.

Day 21: Favorite movie quote

"Hello Clarice."

Hannibal Lecter.

Day 22: Favorite television quote

"I put it to you, Minister, that you are looking a Trojan Horse in the mouth."

Sir Humphrey Appleby

Day 23: Favorite animal

Tiger pigs.

Day 24: Something embarassing in your room

My Ukulele

Day 25: One of your most prized possessions

My Sousa

Day 26: A picture from one of the greatest days of your life

Save me.

Day 27: A picture of where you’re from

Don't go there.

Day 28: A drawing of you in the future

Or there.

Day 29: A picture of space

Get it?
Space :)

Day 30: Somewhere you want to visit

FINLANDFINLANDFINLAND!!!!!

Disease

2010-07-08T23:26:00.000-07:00

I don't like getting sick. I don't do it often either, generally only about once a year.

Which surprises me, as I've already been sick once this year.

I blame this unplanned illness on my recent hospital admission.

Having inhabited a germ-free environment for so long, my immune system had basically gone to shit. The moment I returned to the petri dish of infection known as my house, I got sick.

Damn and blast.

What The Expletive

2010-07-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

I just friend requested someone on Facebook, and for the thing where you have to type the words shown to prove to the internet that you're not a robot, the words were 'cocksure' and 'the'.

What the expletive

Life

2010-06-28T15:35:00.000-07:00

Holly was discharged yesterday. That's a massive bummer. We're all going to miss her. At least she got otu before she hit the ten week mark. Had she been discharged today, her admission would have been ten weeks. So I suppose it's good for her.

I've been let out for a parade today (marching band). It's for the international Lions convention. It should be fun, although getting a sousa onto a double decker bus (the way we're getting from the end of the parade back to the beginning for a second pass) will be a challenge. Hell, getting the sousa onto a regular bus so that I can get to Hyde Park (the startinng point) will be an interesting experience. And that's with it collapsed and in a flat(ish) case. This should be an experience.

Tomorrow is Inspired. For those of you who are uninitiated, that's the school Textiles and Design showcase. I'm MCing it. Dressed as the Queen of Hearts. Hells mother-expletiving yeah.

My performance pants are statically attracted to my legs. It shits me.

The Winter Solstice

2010-06-27T01:55:00.000-07:00

Today (Monday) is the winter solstice.

Various events have transpired:

I’ve been moved back into the adolescent ward (gods be praised).

Hannah was discharged. Kelsey and I will miss her. We’ll compensate by going to Nowra in the holidays to stalk her.

I found out that I’m going to the US for a week in august on frequent flier points when mum goes to San Jose CA for a conference. Hells to the motherloving yeah.

And we decided we’d try to stay up all night. This will be the moment-to-moment account of what happens.

8.15 – Holly has a copy of Shrek 3. We shall watch it. It’s probably going to be underwhelming, but such is existence.

9.15 – I’ve been typesetting guitar chords in preparation for the BJE campfire sing-along. This year is going to pwn in the extreme.

9.20 – Holly has put the disc in the playstation console. It’s a pirated DVD and thus didn’t work. What a quandary. No matter – we’ll watch Sherlock Holmes. I personally am not a fan of Robert Downey Jr. – he creeps me out.

Oh well.

11.20 – Sherlock Holmes is finished. It was markedly good. I’m actually developing an affinity for RDJ. The plan of staying up all night has been abandoned due to lack of interest coupled with existing fatigue.

And so now I am sitting in the communal room typing, as the rest of the girls bitch about the fact that they’re not allowed to close the curtains around their beds (new mandate, enforced beginning today).

Oh well. Tata all.

The Future

2010-06-18T00:04:00.000-07:00

As the current plans stand, I might be going back to school next term. Huzzah.

Hardening the expletive up.

2010-06-12T18:12:00.000-07:00

One of the girls with whom I am currently sharing a ward pisses me off to no end. In the interest of protecting identities (like hell, one can never know who's on the internet, lurking), I shall henceforth refer to her as Q.

No, she is not a theoretical biblical document (just a joke for all my HEX buddies). But I digress.

If there's one thing that shits me to no end, it's whining. That irritating, high pitched, nasally childish voice people resort to when they're not getting their way.

Q whines all the time. I'm talking incessantly. But that's only the beginning of my figurative beef with her. Q is horrible to the other girls, constantly making snide comments and then saying 'Oh, no offence.'

Saying 'no offence' is probably worse than just being a bitch, because it shows that she doesn't own the fact that she's a bitch. I'm able to make this point because I actually do own my bitchiness. I just save it up for special occasions... But again I digress.

Q also seems to be labouring under the incredibly misguided impression that everyone cares. No-one cares about her stupid issues. Hmmm. Looks like today is a special occasion. Oh well.

Furthermore, Q believes that she should have everything her way. She flouts the rules set up by the powers that are, and then whines when she gets in trouble. She makes ridiculous requests at inappropriate times (I would give examples, but then it would be painfully obvious to anyone on the ward at the moment who I'm ranting about; and as much as I own my bitching, if I'm going to be living with them for some unforseeable amount of time, It helps if we get along...), and then practically has panic attacks when her requests are denied.

And then whenever she doesn't get what she wants, she starts crying.

And her French is pathetic. I know I've just made it obvious who I'm talking about, but I don't care. If there's something that pisses me off, it's bad french pronunciation.

And, Finally, she complains incessantly. I may have already said this, but I'll say it again. NOBODY CARES! SERIOUSLY! WE DON'T GIVE AN EXPLETIVE ABOUT WHY YOU DON'T LIKE IT IN HOSPITAL OR WHAT PERCEIVED WRONG YOU THINK YOU'RE SUBJECT TO. WE'RE ALL STUCK IN THERE TOO. WE'RE IN THE SAME MOTHER-EXPLETIVEING BOAT. NO-ONE LIKES PERSECUTION COMPLEXES.

Q, Harden the fuck up.

And I know I've been complaining for this entire post, but frankly, I don't care. It was justified.

On a nice little sidebar, thanks for the mention, Kelsey :)

The Eurovision Final!!!

2010-06-05T20:08:00.000-07:00

Today whilst at UNSW, I happened to see a Google news heading telling me who won. But I’ll save that for the end of the post. I would have found out from channel ten otherwise, anyway.

Eurovision kicked off with Alexander Rybak sawing through yet another violin bow. Good on him. I usually don’t really like violin music, but he plays with so much vim that I forgive him his instrument choice.

Azerbaijan kicked off the show. Their singer was marvellous at walking down flights of stairs. Her backup dancer was barefoot, which made the fact that he was wearing a shirt forgivable. 7/10

Spain, the first of the bankrolling nations. Generally Spain’s entry is weird. Really incredibly strange. This year was no change to that. The singer looked like Bob Dylan on speed, the backup dancers were abstract to the point of postmodernism, not to mention creepy like sad clowns. Although they did have the Eurovision equivalent of a streaker – someone who jumped onto the stage and had to be dragged off by security. The fact that they just went with it really speaks in Spain’s favour. Otherwise, it was still really weird and I didn’t like it. But that’s just me. >5/10

Norway – last year’s winner. The song started off slowly, which demonstrated that the singer is clearly an opera boy – can’t sign at anything below 100%. He is aesthetically pleasing though. The backup singers were clumped too closely together. Also, in my opinion, the song was chordally reminiscent of a Paul Jarman song. But that could just be because I’m a choir nerd. The guy from Norway improved after the key change. The pyrotechnics were tasteful, but I think they could have been bigger. 7.5/10

Moldova had an electric violin as part of their act. The violinist was on a spinning turnstile, which must have been a bit nauseating for him. There was some hardcore thrusting from the sax and two backup dancers. The singer looked like a cross between Gwen Stefani, P!nk, Madonna and Lady Gaga. I liked it though, because it was eurotrashy to the nth degree. I am a fan. 8.5/10

Cyprus again. Jon Lilygreen is going on the Hottie Wall in the year 12 study at st. G. This is because he is a welsh babe who can sing. I must however ask why the drummer bothered to sing if he wasn’t miked. I like the fact that instead of getting a guitar with built-in pickups, he just duct taped a mike to the inside of his guitar. He made it a design feature. Kudos to him.8.75/10

Bosnia and Herzegovina had a fog machine, but that’s where the good stuff ended. The singer looked like that guy from Coldplay spliced with that guy from Savage Garden. Not a fan of the stance used by all whilst they were singing. Costuming wasn’t marvellously eurotrash, no-one worked the wind machine. It was (for lack of better adjectives) very American. >5/10

Backstage: the man from Spain is less creepy when not in costume, and is playing Sky in Spain’s production of Mamma Mia. Armenia’s backup singers are rather good. Alexander Rybak has shaken Barak Obama’s hand. He is also a fan of Lena from Germany’s song ‘Satellites’. Alexander Rybak is such a babe.

Belgium. ‘Me and My Guitar’. He’s alright looking, and it’s a sweet enough song, but it’s a power ballad. It just doesn’t get me doing a little happy dance on my hospital bed with a laptop propped on one knee. And his falsetto sucks numerous male appendages. Including his own. He was however the first act to work the audience. It wasn’t much, but he was the first to do it. I would rate it higher, but his falsetto killed it for me. 6.5/10

Serbia’s lead singer is totally androgynous. He looks markedly like something Lady Gaga would dress up as, perhaps crossed with (I shudder to type it) Justin Beiber . The male backup dancers were a bit underwhelming. So was the song. And his singing. Maybe it’s the kind of thing the Balkans go for, but it didn’t float my boat. The costuming for the female backup singers was ridiculously strange. 6.5/10

FYI: due to Spain’s interruption, they will get to perform again at the end.
Also, the Aussie viewers got a hello from the hosts. I love it when we get recognised.

‘Butterflies’ from Belarus involved my second favourite costume reveal. My favourite was, of course, Lithuania, but this one wasn’t far off. The song was a power ballad, which didn’t dispose me toward them, but they’re all adept singers as long as they’re not having solos, in which they tended to suck. I was a fan of the fact that the women were wearing fully sequinned gowns. And then full sized butterfly wings popped out of the women’s gowns just in time for a key change. Marvy costumes, shitty solos. 7.5/10

Niamh Kavanaugh won Eurovision in 1993. The whistle player is her cousin, and also named Niamh Kavanaugh. She’s definitely improved from her semifinal performance. She must be feeling better. There’s something about her that just reminds me of Bette Midler. He audience went wild for the whistle player. Niamh’s [the singer’s] dress made her look like some kind of ocean spirit, although she made that look work for her. And although her use of the wind machine was understated, it was well placed.8/10

And now for my favourite song from semifinal 1: OPA! From the Greeks. Back were the open white shirts, tight white pants, manly dancing, manly tattooing, manly grunting at key points in the song: it was as manly and tasteful as ‘Wog Boys II – Kings of Mykonos’ is going to be. Namely incredibly and minimally respectively. I was also a massive fan of the guy with the stringed instrument, and the drums which shot fireworks from within them. The only problem was that the lead singer was about as attractive as the guys from ‘Wog Boys II – Kings of Mykonos’. 9.2/10

Then came Britain – a bankroller, so they were guaranteed a spot in the finals. An absolute babe – faintly reminiscent of Gaspard Ulleil in Hannibal Rising (apart from the singing. From what little we hear of Gaspard singing ‘Das Mantelein’, he was infinitely better), but…well… I shouldn’t be foreshadowing, but there’s a reason GB came last. Fun fact – the girl who represented Britain last year (and who also sucked) is now a Sugababe. But Josh was even flat on the last note. <5/10

Backstage: the Greeks have great arm muscles. Josh doesn’t look as good in profile as he does front on. Still a babe. He should go on the Hottie Wall.

Georgia is back from a year boycotting due to political shit-kicking with Russia. I’m still not a fan of the choreography, although the costuming is very Eurovision. She didn’t wind machine her hair enough, and she was sharp on the high notes. And it was a power ballad. And regardless of my dislike of the choreography, the backup dancers were fantastic. The only thing that saved it was the great pillars of fire at the end. 6.5/10

Turkey – the only country of my top three from Semi 2 to get into the finals. The drummer reminds me of the drummer from Rammstein. The drum part reminds me of Rammstein. The singer is the only man so far to work the wind machine. I remain a massive fan. This is like a musical cross between Linkin Park and Rammstein, with a touch of Marilyn Manson in the costuming. Brilliant flag dancing at the end. Still a massive fan. 9.25/10

Albania also began with an electric violin, but the violinist wasn’t as much of a babe as the one from Moldova. The signer looked a hell of a lot like Gwen Stefani crossed with Drew Barrymore. And the violinist was creepy to the max. The costuming of the lead singer was very Madonna. The song lyrics reminded me of ‘I Will Be Watching You’ by The Police. Namely, they were weird and stalkerish. 6.25/10

Iceland had a Björk, but not the one who wears dresses shaped like dead swans. This Björk has a good strong voice, and a dress which looks like it’s made for spinning around in circles like a lunatic. It’s a pity she isn’t, because for whatever reason I just don’t love the song. 6.75/10

And then came the Ukraine. Those of you who read my rundown of the last semifinal will know that I didn’t think this was eurotrashy enough, especially when compared with last year’s entry. She can sing, and she can use a wind machine as if she was born in the windstream of one, but she wrote the song herself, and it’s not the most marvellous song I’ve ever experienced. I did however like the electric guitar part. Probably because it really reminds me of Metallica. 6.75/10

And then came France. This song reminds me of Art vs. Science’s ‘Parlez-vous Français?’. It’s France’s theme music for the world cup. I love the dancing, the costuming, and the song itself. It’s making me dance along as I sit and type on my hospital bed like the blog nerd that I am. The French know what the audience want: catchy scat lyrics, and plenty of booty shakin’. There were minor pyrotechnic explosions in the background throughout the song. I only give this more points than Turkey because it’s more catchy, and after all that’s what Eurovision’s about: catchiness, not good metal. 9.5/10

Romania again had the conjoined electric pianos, but they were counteracted by the fact that the female lead singer looked like white Michael Jackson. The music was good, the song was shit. The costuming was tacky in a bad way, not in the good Eurovisual way. The lead female still had a fantastic opera voice, but it didn’t fit with the rest of the song. But the pyrotechnics at the end were good. 7/10

Russia’s band became famous on YouTube. Unfortunately, they look as if the fall of communism was somehow cruel to them: they just look a bit pathetic (both in the pathos inducing sense and the more commonly used sense). The acoustic guitarist looked a hell of a lot like Johnny Depp. The harmonies were marvellous. The words were incoherent. They were all really hairy. This lead singer had good falsetto. And he could work a wind machine and still seem slightly manly. 7.75/10

And now for Armenia. Again, her chest resides where her sphenoid bone ought to be. Apparently she’s the tallest performer tonight. She’s a good singer, the backup dancer is good, the backup instrumentalists were also good. The lyrics are however completely ridiculous. I do like the tune though. It’s nicely catchy. Set design was impressive, especially the tree emerging from the stone in the background. The best executed key change so far in my opinion, although as soon as the modulation had finished, the quality of the song rapidly decreased. 8/10

And then Satellites, from Lena. She sounds a hell of a lot like Missy Higgins, but it works for her. She looked a bit emo in the costume she happened to be wearing, but again, it worked for her. The song made me dance on the bed, it’s nicely catchy. I really like this song. A lot. I actually liked this equally to Turkey’s entry, but she was more Eurovisual. 9.3/10

Portugal’s entry was in Portugese. And it was a power ballad. And although their singer was in a lovely gown, she wasn’t great at singing. She’s also failed to remember that apart from Serbia in (I think it was) 2007, no-one has ever won with a song that isn’t in English. And even if I didn’t know who the winner is, I wouldn’t think they’d be the second nation to win with a non-anglophonic song. 5/10

Another power ballad from Israel. I didn’t like this song when it was on on Saturday, and I didn’t like it tonight. >5/10

Now for Denmark, which not only sounded like The Police, but had a lead male who looked like he was part of The Police. Frankly, I’d rather be playing ‘Little Lion Man’ on the Ukulele. And thus I am. 6/10

Spain performed again. I didn’t like it any more or less than the first time. Thus my opinion is unchanged.

Norwegian Josh Thomas pulled off his jacket to reveal something lime green and velvet with giant sequins on it. What the expletive?

So: my rankings for the night.
1. France
2. Germany
3. Turkey
4. Greece
5. Cyprus
6. Moldova
7. Armenia; Ireland
8. Russia
9. Belarus; Norway
10. Azerbaijan; Romania
11. Iceland; Ukraine
12. Belgium; Georgia; Serbia
13. Albania
14. Denmark
15. Portugal
16. Bosnia and Herzegovina; Great Britain; Israel; Spain

Whilst votes were being tallied, audiences across Europe danced. As the rappers made their way through the audience, we got to see a security guy manhandle screaming fans out of the way in Oslo. I lolled.

We got to watch footage of audiences around Europe dancing. It was actually quite cool. Streets full of people dancing in unison. Notable nations were Belgium, Sweden, Iceland, Germany, Ireland, Lithuania. Kudos to them.

And then us peeps at home were taught the dance. I danced along. It was fun.

A few moments later we saw the hosts again…but they were wearing different clothing. That was quick. And now Norwegian Josh Thomas is wearing a pair of butterfly wings. He is my hero.

And on to the revelation of the results. And lo, Svante appeared on high to the soundtrack of something reminiscent of Vangelis. Svante is the supreme lord god king supervisor of Eurovision.

The results: the three big points sets.
Romania: 8-Turkey; 10-Moldavia; 12-Denmark.
Ireland: 8-Germany; 10-Belgium; 12-Denmark.
Germany: 8-Greece; 10-Turkey; 12-Belgium.
Serbia: 8-Germany; 10-Greece; 12-Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Albania: 8-Turkey; 10-Germany; 12-Greece.
Turkey: 8-Bosnia and Herzegovina; 10-Germany; 12-Azerbaijan.
Croatia: 8-Serbia; 10-Bosnia and Herzegovina; 12-Turkey.
At the moment, Belarus is the only nation to still be on no points.
Poland: 8-Azerbaijan; 10-Belgium; 12-Denmark.
Bosnia and Herzegovina: 8-Germany; 10-Turkey; 12-Serbia.
Belarus is still sitting on a duck.
Finland:8-France; 10-Israel; 12-Germany.
Germany leads with a nice buffer. France isn’t doing as well as I would have thought.
Slovenia: 8-Serbia; 10-Germany; 12-Denmark.
Belarus still has nothing, and Denmark is really doing well. Clearly Europe liked The Police.
Estonia: 8-Georgia; 10-Russia; 12-Germany.
Russia: 8-Azerbaijan; 10-Georgia; 12-Armenia.
Belarus is finally off zero, on two points. But I know they won’t lose, so it’s all good.
Portugal: 8-Greece; 10-Romania; 12-Spain.
Germany has a buffer of almost 40 points. Still piddly compared to how well Alexander went last year.
Azerbaijan: 8-Georgia; 10-Ukraine; 12-Turkey.
The UK is currently on 7 points. They’ll only get to 10.
Greece: 8-France; 10-Albania; 12-Cyprus.
Iceland: 8-Greece; 10-Belgium; 12-Denmark.
Denmark: 8-Romania; 10-Belgium; 12-Germany.
Belgium has overtaken Turkey. GB is doing surprisingly well (relatively). They’ll slip.
France: 8-Portugal; 10-Serbia; 12-Turkey.
Spain: 8-Armenia; 10-Romania; 12-Germany.
Belarus is stuck on 2. They’ll get there.
Slovakia: 8-Israel; 10-Belgium; 12-Germany.
Bulgaria: 8-Armenia; 10-Turkey; 12-Azerbaijan.
Belarus is on 3 now. They’re movin’ on up.
Ukraine: 8-Turkey; 10-Russia; 12-Azerbaijan.
Latvia: 8-Russia; 10-Denmark; 12-Germany.
Ireland is on six points. It’s behind the UK at the moment. Belarus still languishing on three.
Malta: 8-Denmark; 10-Belgium; 12-Azerbaijan.
Norway: 8-Denmark; 10-Romania; 12-Germany.
Cyprus: 8-Romania; 10-Azerbaijan; 12-Greece.
UK, Ireland and Belarus are the only nations stuck on single figures. It’s moments like this that I miss the British commentator SBS used to use. He always had pithy comments to make about Britain’s pathetic performance.
Lithuania: 8-Spain; 10-Germany; 12-Georgia.
Belarus: 8-Israel; 10-Ukraine; 12-Russia.
Switzerland: 8-Albania; 10-Serbia; 12-Germany.
Ireland got six points and is finally into the realms of double digits. Come on Belarus. You can do it.
Belgium: 8-Iceland; 10-Germany; 12-Greece.
UK: 8-Romania; 10-Turkey; 12-Greece.
“And thankyou to those of you who did vote for us.” That says it all.
The Netherlands: 8-Turkey; 10-Israel; 12-Armenia.
Israel: 8-Romania; 10-Russia; 12-Armenia.
F.Y.R. Macedonia: 8-Germany; 10-Turkey; 12-Albania.
COME ON BELARUS. SURELY WIKI DIDN’T LIE TO ME!!!
Moldova: 8-Ukraine; 10-Russia; 12-Romania.
Belarus is up to six points. Time is running out. Come on Wiki, don’t fail me now.
Georgia: 8-Azerbaijan; 10-Armenia; 12-Belarus.
YESSS! GB GOT THEMSELVES TO 10, AND BELARUS GOT THE HELL AWAY FROM THEM!
Sweden: 8-Denmark; 10-Romania; 12-Germany.
Armenia: 8-Ukraine; 10-Russia; 12-Georgia.
From about halfway, it became mathematically certain that Germany would win. Good for Lena. I liked her song. Not as much as France’s or Turkey’s; but such is life. Eurovision 2011 will be in Berlin. Or Hamburg, if you look at the mass outdoor screenings across Germany.

My, my. Lena mildly pashed Alexander. As Lena talked to the hosts, she had a small army of roadies attaching mikes to her for her winner’s performance.

And there it was. Eurovision 2010.

Eurovision. Semifinal 2

2010-05-29T20:15:00.000-07:00

The Eurovision song contest is on at the moment.

I watched the first semi-final on Friday. I was underwhelmed. Nowhere was there something ridiculously tacky and thus brilliant. There were far too many power ballads.

No, I lie. Greece, with their almost shirtless male acrobatics was so tacky I loved it. And whichever country did the song ‘Butterfly’ was marvellously sequinned.

But seriously, people, this is Eurovision, not Australian bloody Idol. Ballads = bad. Wind machines, sequins and shirtless men = good.

I watched semi-final two last night.

The first song, Lithuania, summed up what Eurovision should be: a catchy song, coupled with male stripping and sequins. Watch it on youtube. It was brilliant.

Armenia was ridiculous, if you were to listen to the lyrics themselves. But that having been said, it was an alright song, and by god they costumed in the spirit of Eurovision. The chest of the lead singer was residing somewhere in the vicinity of her sinus cavity or Sphenoid bone.

Israel’s guy had nice hair, but wasn’t the world’s greatest singer.

Song number four, Denmark, was unremarkable but for the fact that it not only sounded markedly similar to the kind of music put out by The Police, the costuming looked like something off a Police music video.

Switzerland, with song number five, made good use of the prerequisite wind machine. Their song was also rather pop-like, but there wasn’t enough male stripping.

After an ad break, there was another one of those bits where the Aussie commentators talk to the competitors. As it turns out, the guys from Lithuania are all straight. Go figure. Also, as it turns out, Julia Zemiro owns a pair of those shorts. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you clearly haven’t watched Lithuania’s song.

Sweden did well when it came to distributing glowsticks. Unfortunately, that’s where the good work ended. Eurovision it was not. It was another power ballad. The glowsticks were (I’m sorry to say) unwarranted. Cold Chisel it wasn’t. Their singer couldn’t even work the wind machine. Her hair barely moved throughout the song. This is Eurovision! I want to see hair blowing as if there are gale force winds blowing. I don’t care about how well your dress billows in the wind. I want hair in a wind tunnel.

Azerbaijan. What can I say? She was dressed appropriately (i.e. like a drag queen). Her backup singers weren’t. They just looked like high class hookers. The male dancer was wearing too much clothing, and wasn’t very good anyway. And it was another power ballad. That having been said, I was a fan of the LED lights in the dress.

Last year’s entry by the Ukraine involved a woman from a band called Viagra and a bunch of men wearing skimpy skirts and little else. This year’s entry was tasteful. And thus boring as all hell. Where’s the woman dancing suggestively with scantily clad Spartacus look-alikes? You may ask. I’ll tell you. They’re gone. Although I congratulate her on her brilliant use of a wind machine. She knows how to work that breeze, and she works it hard.

The Netherlands’ entry. Costuming was in the spirit of Eurovision. The fact that the song was written by the guy who was the voice of Papa Smurf was in the spirit of Eurovision. The set design was very much in the spirit of Eurovision. The song, in my opinion, was far too reminiscent of ABBA. It’s actually creepy. You could superimpose any ABBA lyrics on top of that song, and it would work. Thus, something which could have been brilliant in my opinion lost its brilliance because the premise has been done before.

Romania had a pair of conjoined electric pianos. It had lead singers who exemplified everything wrong with capitalist music. The woman really looked like Michael Jackson once he was white. The guy had a vein pulsating in his forehead as he sang. It was a crap song, but by Jove did they get into the spirit of it all. And as it turns out, the woman has a wonderful opera voice. She can’t sing pop for shit, but her opera voice is fantastic.

Popular folk rock. It’s a fusion between folk music and rock. It involves traditional costumes, ham acting and a piano accordion. I like. I like a lot. And the girl from Slovenia really looked like Rachel Bilson. The fusioning didn’t really work. The rock was alright, and the folk was alright, but they didn’t gel well. It was weird. The rock guys looked like a washed up Brit-punk band from the nineties would if it had been abducted by the Al-Qasam brigades.

Then came the Irish. Their singer won Eurovision in 1993. She didn’t age well. She can sing (she was a touch flat at times, but apparently she was a bit sick on the day, so I’ll forgive her), but it was a power ballad. The flute player was good. Fun fact: the television channel which broadcasts Eurovision isn’t allowed to charge for the broadcast. Ireland won three years in a row, and it almost bankrupted their national television channel.

Bulgaria. Scantily clad men and women, all covered in body glitter. The song was good – not amazing but good, but let’s focus on what’s important: they were wearing silver and were covered in glitter. the male backup dancers were also very good. At dancing. And being covered in glitter. The women…well they couldn’t dance for shit, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what they were chosen for. Sarah phoned me and expressed her love of Bulgaria’s song. She thinks they should win with that.

Cyprus’ song is sung by a Welshman, the musicians are from Scotland, Norway and Cyprus, but who’s judging. Me. That’s who. I’m judging. Not to be a bitch, but apart from the lead singer, who isn’t even a Cypriot, they lack the sheer cuteness necessary to win the song contest. And I’m so sick and tired of the bloody power ballads.

Another spate of talkies with the hosts. The Welsh lead singer was a babe. And he had the most adorable accent. A 22 year old Welsh babe with an adorable accent.

Sam Pak consistently refers to the male host as ‘Norwegian Josh Thomas’.

Croatia’s song is performed by a band called Feminem. There is however an acute lack of rap. It’s another mother expletiving power ballad. The women aren’t even using the wind machine. They’re all reasonably adept dancers, especially when their ridiculous costuming is taken into account, but their hair and dresses are screaming out for a wing machine. Absolutely begging for it. BUT THEY’RE NOT MAKING USE OF IT.

Georgia’s entry is a touch postmodern for my liking. But they at least subscribe to the Eurovision mores of men in white pants and open jackets without a shirt, dancing barefoot. But the song ended with massive pillars of fire, so I approve.

Now that I’ve mentioned lack of footwear, a hell of a lot of the performers have been barefoot for their performances. I don’t really see why. Maybe they’re trying to make a point.

From the first moment of Turkey’s performance, I loved it. There’s metal undertones, combined with exemplary wind machine usage. Strobe lights. Someone dressed up as a Samurai soldier. Quasi-rap in a manner akin to Linkin Park. Someone else, dressed as the love child which would be produced if a female PowerRanger and The Stig were to breed. Quite possibly my favourite song of the night. Definitely top three.

And as it turns out, Norwegian Josh Thomas also has a pair of those sequinned hot pants. Seriously. Watch the video. It’s brilliant to the max.

Also, all Julia can say in Hebrew is Habonim. Failq on her part.

And the host talked to the two Australian people in the audience. Who’d have thunk there would be Aussies, and who’d have thunk the hosts would have sought them out.

They also once again pulled out the tiny lookalikes of the hosts, dressed in the same clothing, to be adorable while explaining the minimum age clause.

We also got a peek of the songs which auto-qualified for the finals (the bankroller nations and the host nation). I quite like the look of France and Germany’s entries. But more of that once I’ve watched the finals.

My favourite ten of the night were (in order of performance):
Lithuania
Armenia
Denmark
Switzerland
Romania
Slovenia
Bulgaria
Cyprus (but only because of their hot singer)
Georgia
Turkey

The ten who qualified were (in the order in which they were revealed):
Georgia
Ukraine
Turkey
Israel
Ireland
Cyprus
Azerbaijan
Romania
Armenia
Denmark

The percentage of my top ten who were in Europe’s top ten:
40%

DEAR GOD, EUROPE. HOW COULD YOU HAVE FUCKED UP SO GREATLY????????? WHERE WERE THE LITHUANIAN STRIPPERS? THE SPARKLY BULGARIANS?

I am unimpressed. Of my three favourite acts, two didn’t make it. I am unimpressed, Europe. I am unimpressed.

I will however get the videos of the songs I liked, so that I can preserve the brilliance for posterity, even if the rest of Europe disagrees.

TopGear.

2010-05-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday night, Boris was on TopGear. I was rather impressed.

Boris is quote easily my favourite British politician. He had an argument with Clarkson about the merits of bike riding (Boris cycles, Clarkson thinks that bike riding is for sissies), during which he lost he lorry vote by saying that truck drivers never look in their mirrors.

Later, whilst doing his lap in a reasonably priced car, it became evident that when driving, he makes zooming noises.

On a slightly unrelated note, I was disappointed to discover that the obscenities of the hosts are now censored. Clarkson no longer says ‘shit’. He says *bleep*. May no longer says ‘cock’. I am horrified by this turn of events.

But fun facts I learned from watching TopGear: if you’re in a Ford Fiesta being chased around the inside of a shopping centre by bad guys in a Corvette, you will get away.
Also, if you’re asked to take part in a beach assault with the Royal Marines whilst the end of the 1812 overture plays in the background, you will be marvellously successful.

I rather like TopGear. Especially the challenges. Vietnam in particular.

There’s some marvellous British humour. For example: To make things more interesting, the presenters were banned from getting professional repairs on their motorbikes, and they were shown the support bike: a motorbike completely covered with American flag decals, with a stereo permanently blasting Bruce Springstein’s ‘Born in the USA’.
Clarkson, after beholding the monstrosity, turned to the camera and said, completely deadpan “Kids, if you’re watching at home and don’t understand just how inappropriate this is, ask your parents.”

Nothing like bringing up memories of capitalist imperialism.

On a slightly unrelated note, I’m aware that my recent posts have been a touch off my regular standard. This is because I blog about whatever happens to have interested me during the day. Of course when I’m stuck in a hospital, very little interests me.

But bear with me.

The small portion of the week I enjoyed before admission

2010-05-29T20:12:00.000-07:00

This is my notes of The Week from prior to my admission: basically there’s somewhere around two and a half days of funny.

To begin with, period one on Monday is English, where I sit next to Yvette.
On Monday (praise unto the heavens) Yvette pulled out her Frankenstein before Mr Turner even managed to finish articulating his request for us to do so.
Yvette: Frankenwin.

For the past few weeks, whenever anyone mentions or references the monster’s desire for Frankenstein to create him a mate, I always turn to Yvette and make some kind of joke about ‘crazy monster sex’.
This information will become pertinent below:
Mr Turner: …desire for connection.
Yvette: If you mention that one more time, I will murder you.
Me: What?
Yvette: Crazy monster sex.
Me: Oh. Yeah. That.

Later, during triple Latin, which includes a lunch class, Monica was eating a banana. It was bruised.
Sophia (to Monica): Your banana has herpes.
Me: I’m thinking syphilis. You have a syphilitic banana.
Monica: And how.

Durign period 8, by which time it’s our third period of latin and our brains are slightly fried, Mr Morrison stretched out his arms.
Monica and Myself: You’re an albatross!!!
(Air high-five because we’re too far away to reach each other.)
Mr Morrison: Go home and measure your arm span and compare it to your height. They’ll be about the same.
Me (deducing logic): You’re an albatross in height!!!
Mr Morrison: There are so many places to start with that.

On Tuesday, during double English periods seven and eight, I was being my usual mature (sic) self.
Me: I’m so mature.
Yvette: Like old cheese.
Both: *high five*

Then, during Latin in periods 10 and 11 (I didn’t even know they existed until I started having class during them), Mr Morrison was making a point. What it was exactly escapes me, but whatever.
Mr Morrison (to Monica): I gave your mother a kiss.
Monica: No! I refuse to listen until you find another example.

And then on Friday, I received this text message. It was from Yvette:
Double English faggot. How dare you be so selfish and bail on me for hospital!

What a darling. I passed my phone around the class for everyone to read. We lolled muchly.

Another reason I hate Beyonce

2010-05-15T22:07:00.000-07:00

I hate Beyonce for numerous reasons. For example - I hate her because she doesn't wear enough clothing.
Seriously, there are things we don't need or want to see. Ever. Save it for Jay-Z.

My latest reason is the fact that she molested one of my favourite songs.

No, I lie. She Catullus 16-ed one of my favourite songs.

Vois Sur Ton Chemin, initially sung marvellously by Jean-Baptiste Maunier and the cast of Les Choristes, was killed by Beyonce.

I was alerted to this travesty by my friend Julianne, who is a fan of all things French. And like me, not a fan of Beyonce ruining the French stuff we are fans of.

I am unimpressed.

Alcoholism

2010-05-15T21:30:00.001-07:00

I love Monty Python. Only they could take the greatest philosophers ever... and then write a beer drinking song about it.

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
who could drink you under the table.
David Hume could out consume
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.

There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya
'bout the raisin' of the wrist.
Socrates himself was permanently pissed.

John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
after half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away,
'alf a crate of whiskey every day!
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
and Hobbes was fond of his Dram.
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart:
"I drink, therefore I am."

Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed;
A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he's pissed.

Freedom

2010-05-15T20:56:00.000-07:00

Today I obtained leave from the hospital for a day. It was markedly enjoyable in comparison to incarceration.

I played Lacrosse, and then was able to access block-less internet.
Which is why I'm blogging.

The problem is, hospital is so ridiculously boring that there's nothing to blog about.

And thus a little experiment I've dreamed up:

METALLICA OR JOHN DONNE

I will write a line of either a Metallica song or a John Donne poem, and you all get to guess which it is. No typing it into google. That's boring. And unethical.

For whom the bell tolls.
Trust I seek and I find in you.
Dispute, and conquer.
Corrupt worms.
Justice is done.
Let my heart be still.
Fall on that man.
So what now, where go I?
Take my hand.
He swallows us.

Have at it!!!

Politicking

2010-05-09T23:27:00.000-07:00

Britain has a hung parliament. This is because Gordon Brown did what John Howard did prior to losing an election: he hung onto power long after he should have handed it over to someone younger and more charismatic. Or less deformed. Or Nick Clegg.

As a result of Gordon's monumental cock up, Nick Glegg, whose party did rather well in the election, is being called upon to broker some kind of coalition between someone and someone else. No-one's too fussed as to the specifics, as long as he gets it done. But Nick, because his party came third, will not get the top job himself no matter what happens.

Admittedly, Gordon did well. Having stabbed Tony Blair in the back from his comfortable spot in the treasury (in a manner somewhat akin to John Howard stabbing Andrew Peacock in the back from his comfortable spot in the treasury), Gordon knew what to do in order to ensure that Britain came out of the recession well. Britain whupped some global ass when it came to financial regulation.

But he then hung onto power for so long that his party became a dried out husk of yes men adn downtrodden backbenchers. Rather like the Liberal party after the 2007 election. But I digress.

What Britain needs is for Nick Clegg to do what no-one expects. Stage a military coup and set up a junta that won't allow elections, thus allowing the Supreme Clegg to rule all Britannia with an iron fist forever and ay.

That would be a welcome change. All hail Clegg.

Psychological Torment

2010-05-07T00:25:00.000-07:00

I answered a question in English. I wasn't concentrating. Damn, blast and buggery.
Oh well. I'm going to be hospitalised soon, and then I REALLY won't be answering questions in class.

The Week

2010-05-07T00:14:00.000-07:00

For a while now, Mr Morrison has been slightly glittery. This is because he has been marking year 7 assignments, and such assignments are outstanding in nothing other than sheer sparkliness.
We’d been making jokes about his glitteriness for a while when he eventually said “Every day I fly to school and I just need a little sprinkling of fairy dust. Are you happy?”
We were. Astoundingly so.

Later in the lesson, we were discussing History Extension major work essays.
Mr Morrison: I once had to write a 4000 word essay in German in one night.
Monica: Go on…
Mr Morrison: That was the climax of the story.
Me: Why did you leave it to the last minute? Were you out partying with Alex?
Mr Morrison: Yes.
Much lols following that. Alex was Mr Morrison’s hard-partying roommate when he was at uni in Vienna. Any story involving Alex generally turns out to be an interesting one.

Whilst translating us some Cicero
Mersini: I can’t spell today.
Mr Morrison: T. O. D. A. Y
Me: But… oooooh. Right. I didn’t think there was a T in ‘defence’

Mr Morrison: opportere
Mersini: That just makes me hungry.
Me: Why would indirect statements make you hungry?
(you can tell I was really concentrating that lesson)
Sophia: indirect STEAKments.

As I stated back in the holidays, our class spent a day trying to translate the Cicero. We got a bit unmotivated towards the end, as can be seen by our marvellous translation of a certain sentence as read out by Monica.
“Which you do not make to/against the strong military, but the way which you keep the hands off the other money.”
The actual translation goes something like this:
‘That it is necessary to be proved by you not that you did well in military affairs but how you kept your hands from other people’s money.’

Now onto history extension, where we are learning about the historicity of Jesus. We’re watching a documentary from the PBS during which Dominic Crossan expresses numerous opinions regarding Jesus and the like. One of the better ones was:
“That’s the terrible price of an apocalypse. There’s going to be an awful lot of dead people.”

And now to modern history where we had just begun the study of Nazi foreign policy. First, my definition of war: war is foreign policy carried out on foreign soil.

Mr Sheldrick drew a marvellous diagram explaining Nazi foreign policy. Here it is, along with his accompanying commentary.
To start with, he drew this.

The small thingy in the middle is Britain, sans Ireland and a large proportion of Wales.
The big thingy towards the right is Europe, lacking all of Spain and Portugal, The Netherlands, Scandinavia, the Mediterranean…

Then he added this

The shaded bit is central/eastern Europe. Germany, Poland, Austria, Hungary, the assorted other nations which are now predominantly post-communist something-stan, or alternately have a civil war or coup every ten or so years. But anyway.
Because when you control central Europe, you can

Branch out and ultimately control all of Europe. And when you control Europe…

…you control the world.
Yes. The smiley face was on the board.

Then there was English.
Mr Turner: Have you heard of Immanuel Kant?
Me (under my breath because I was boycotting class participation): Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmanuel Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely stable, Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could drink you under the table. Nietzsche, Nietzsche was (etc. the philosopher’s drinking song c/o Monty Python)

Later that lesson I was bored. So I put my copy of Frankenstein open on my head.
Yvette: Frankenhat.

FRANKENHAT The one function of a copy of Frankenstein. Sun protection.

The next day in Latin Extension:
Mr Morrison: How did you go in the Easter Show? I forgot to ask you that.
Me: I was disqualified for inappropriate mounting.
Mr Morrison then laughed until he was incredibly red. It took us all a while to cotton on to what he was laughing about, because generally we’re the ones who pick up on it, not him. So that was some unexpected of our normal roles.

A few minutes later, Mr Morrison wrote something on the whiteboard.
Sophia: Is that a new marker?
Mr Morrison: It may be.
Oh the banality…or is it banalité…I never know…is it like naiveté…is it anglicised…oh well.

We were translating Horace I.5 in which Horace is bitching about the guy Pyrrha dumped him for.
Mr Morrison: He’s someone a bit effeminate. Maybe someone who’s into a bit of manscaping.
If there’s one thing guaranteed to make things weird, it’s your teacher talking about manscaping.

And later, whilst making style notes:
Mr Morrison: Black is a word with evil connotations.
Me: Sir, are you being a white supremacist?
Mr Morrison: Yes
Me: picks up pen
Mr Morrison: Don’t write that down.
Disclaimer: Mr Morrison is not a white supremacist.

And today in English:
We’re learning about Frankenstein and there’s a lot of crap regarding the supremacy of nature and such tree-hugging pseudo-bohemianism.
Alagu: When Victor and the monster die in the frozen north, it’s as if nature wins.
Mr Turner: And what gender is nature portrayed as?
Alagu: Female.
Mr Turner: So the women win in the end.
(He was making a point).
Me (to Yvette): well if nature is a woman, then the arctic would be a frigid bitch. Thus in the end, it’s the frigid bitches who win.

Later:
Mr Turner: Are women passive or active in the book?
All: Passive.
Me (to Yvette): Passive like a gerund.
Yvette: Don’t make grammar jokes at me.

We were also given a handout compiled my Mr Morris (an English teaching deputy principal) which dealt with Frankenstein and Bladerunner.
Mr Morris’ handout: [Tyrell] builds [the replicants] well…but in an act of mean spiritedness, they are given a lifespan of 4 years.
Yvette (to me): That’s wrong. He did it because after the 4 years they’d grow emotions.
Me (to Yvette): Especially because most of them were created to be sex slaves. The last thing you want is a sex slave with emotions.
Yvette: Damn right.

And back to class discussion of Frankenstein:
Mr Turner (about the De Lacey family): Boring bunch of Bourgeois vegetarians.
Yvette (to me): Better than being a bunch of cheese eating surrender monkeys.
I lolled at that (internally). I found that lovely term for the French in a book the title of which I have since forgotten. But it’s a good description.

And then after school, I went to Hurstville with Monica, Sophia, Elsa and Hilary. We were drinking EasyWay (which is a curious product…)
Monica’s had pearls in it.
Monica: Oh My God! I can’t get this fucking ball!

And later, Sophia choked on her easy way.
Me: What happened?
Sophia: I sucked too hard.

The UK Election

2010-05-06T00:17:00.000-07:00

I did a quiz on Boris Johnson's blog.

Apparently, if I lived in Scotland, the party I'm most likely to vote for would be the Scottish National Party.

Cool.

Shopping and Belonging

2010-05-06T00:01:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, I got some jeans.

They are incredibly run of the mill, but anything would be an improvement upon my current pair which are so faded they're almost white, and so shredded at the cuffs that I either have to fold them up or wear them with boots. And the only boots I own are gumboots.

Whilst I was at Target getting the aforemantioned jeans (I know. I'm classy.), I saw one of those floofy peasant shirt thingies. I thought to myself 'Hmmm. I wonder what I'd look like in one of those.'

Here's the answer: a mushroom. As it turns out, quasi-Sinti Eastern European gypsy is not a look I can rock. I can however totally rock the look of Eastern European downtrodden farmer or tailor. I guess it's genetic.

And although I've been bagging out my old jeans, I'm still going to wear them to every winter mufti day...along with my Target gumboots.

And the belonging.

I have a bit of a quandary when it comes to finding self selected texts for belonging.

Initially, I was going to use The Shipping News (Annie Proulx), but that turns out to be an Ext Eng proscribed text, which means I can't use it.

I could use the movie, but it's just so bloody depressing.

Even so, I have too many self seleceted texts to choose from. There's The Shipping News (movie), Kolya (Czech movie about the Velvet Revolt), Forrest Gump (Winston Groom), or The Savage Altar (Asa Larson).

I should have two. I hate having to choose. They're all really good.

Oh well.

Tuesday arvo

2010-05-04T00:37:00.000-07:00

Written during double english. Thus explaining the later use of present tense.

At lunch I discovered that my rpevious title of Latin class whore has been upgraded to a generalised kinky whore. Thanks Monica.

In English, instead of puttimg my hand up whenever Mr Turner (the vampirate teaching us Frankenstein) asks a question, like the complete nerd that I am, I'm sitting completely still, with a bored look on my face.

First I got back a piece of creative writing which I threw together during a double period of Modern History on the last day of term (when it was due). Apparently I have the foundations right (i.e. my spelling is correct and I'm anal about grammar) but my plot, whilst "imaginative" (read: mildly ludicrous) really didn't deal with Belonging.

Of course it didn't. I'm rubbish at Creative Writing, and I think that Belonging as a stupid concept. But anyway.

Back to me seeing if I can mess with the head of my teacher by lacking opinion. Because I'm the only one who consistently answers questions.

Class started at 1.15.

Mr Turner is working hard to get input from the class. He asks a question ...pauses ...elaborates ...pauses ...waits a bit more ...eventually someone mutters something with an interrogative upwards inflection and he jumps on it in a desperate attempt to prompt class discussion.

1.50

He still hasn't cracked. But he's definitely working harder that usual.

2.15

A good minute of silence waiting for an answer. A decent start. I'm going to need to continue this not working on class participation shindig. It's rather enjoyable.

Chivalry

2010-05-04T00:29:00.000-07:00

This morning I had to catch the bus with my Tuba. It's unwieldly, heavy, the wheels don't function properly, and it has a turnign circle larger than that of the Titanic.

Usually, the bus, after I get on at Blakehurst High wends its way through Carss Park, Kogarah Bay and Carlton before arriving at Kogarah where it divests itself of passengers in order to reverst the journey back to Hurstville.

Today however, as I was wresting the evil plastic monstrosity fo a case (overpackaging much?), the bus driver said that he would continue on to my school after reachign Kogarah (according to Cityrail, it's another 700m. It's not that difficult with the tuba - the wheels may not function properly, but at least they function - it's just irriatating when the Kogarah High kids ask me whether I have a body in tere. As if I'd tell them if I did.)

Thanks bus driver.

Chivalry isn't dead.

Labels and other blog formating nightmares

2010-05-01T22:36:00.000-07:00

I wanted to get the thingy which one sticks on the side of one's blog which shows the different labels one has used with relative size showing the frequency with which that label has been used.

The closest I could get was that weird swirly label sphere thingummywhatsit located below the blog archive.

I am underwhelmed.

Metallica

2010-05-01T21:31:00.000-07:00

A few posts ago, I was rather put ut by the fact that scuttlebutt is that Metallica would be coming to Australia in august.

As it turns out, they're playing at Acer Arena on November 18, which is after the HSC.

I am excited beyond description. I'm doing a happy dance.

OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO A METALLICA CONCERT.

Lacrosse

2010-05-01T20:07:00.001-07:00

Today was the first game of the new Lacrosse season. This made me happy.

I sustained numerous arm and shin bruises, which means I spent a very productive hour playing.

I have the post-violent-sport happies :)

See: I'm so happy I did a smiley face.

Incoherent Indies

2010-05-01T20:06:00.000-07:00

I was watching Rage on ABC on Saturday morning, and I was reminded of one of my pet hates: incoherent apathetic indie bands with stupid names.

They mumble, they ‘sing’ in irritating breathy voices that demonstrate quite obviously that they have absolutely no diaphragm support whatsoever, and they have stupid band names.

What kind of an idiotic name is ‘Fire! Santa Rosa. Fire!’? seriously.

And what about ‘Fauns’.

It’s only a matter of time before they just start taking names out of science textbooks: I will in no way be surprised when there’s a band called ‘the Electrolytic Cells’ or perhaps ‘Xloem vessels’. And let’s not rule out ‘the Tickertapes’; ‘the Hubble Telescopes’; ‘the Stephen Hawkings’… I could go on.

And it’s as if they can’t even get enthusiastic about their own music. They just stand there, playing their instruments in an expressionless manner. They seem to think they’re too cool for their music, but they’ll deign to play it anyway, and we just have to deal with their boredom.

On a slightly unrelated note, scuttlebutt is that Metallica is coming to Australia in August. Tiff (the one who introduced me to the joys of Metallica) and I are really cut that it’s in the middle of trials.

Damn and blast.

An Addendum

2010-04-30T00:17:00.000-07:00

Oh and by the way.

I got my HSC timetable today. The BOS can S my D.

Quite literally, and failing that at least figuratively.

The week.

2010-04-29T23:57:00.000-07:00

This may become a regular fixture - the assorted school funnies of the week which didn't warrant their own post.

To begin with: FRANKENLORD (expletive) a way to blaspheme obscenely without actually using obscenities.
"You brought Frankenstein today? Thank the Frankenlord!"
N.B. pronounced in a manner akin to 'fuckin'.

FRANKENMOTHERFUCKER (n) As Victor is the 'mother' of the monster (i.e. he 'bore' it) thus, to be a frankenmotherfucker, he would have to be wanking. Thus, a frankenmotherfucker is one who supplicates themselves after creating a monster otu of spare parts.

In Latin on thursday, we had some entertaining segways. One of them involved us speculating as to what animal Mr Morrison (our teacher) would be. Sarah suggested a meerkat. I suggested a giant squid. As it turns out, that's his favourite animal. Who'd have thunk.

There was then a minor discussion regardign the pronunciation of the word command which resulted in teh following conversational gems:

Mr Morrison: You say command, I say potato.

Me: You say potato, I say giant squid.

Monica: You say potato, I say Lady Gaga.

Later in the lesson, as we discussed Cicero's wording, Mr Morrison said "How much authority does this speech have?"

Half the class however thought he had said "How much authority does this bitch have?" something which mildly confused us - because that's not the kind of thing he usually says - at which point we dissolved into giggles.

Today, during Latin extension, we were translating a Catullus poem addressed to Furius and Aurelius - the selfsame men Catullus 16 was addressed to. Namely the guys he said he would sodomise violently (and that was the nice part of the poem).

This led me say "Catullus didn't like many people", to which Mr Morrison responded "Catullus liked his brother."

Utter silence.

And then as we were leaving, he said "My comment for the weekend is be nice to each other." at which point he left the room. The moment he was outside the door he added "And don't get drunk or pregnant."

Well. That was unexpected. All I can say is: I won't.