Lincoln Eddy

New York - Part 2

2011-06-18T00:44:00.000-07:00

So where was I? Flew into New York. Crap airport hotel. Subway to Soho. That’s right, we’d just checked into our hotel and already we were impressed. The dining room was open all day so we could drop in whenever we liked for a juice or a hot chocolate, or just somewhere to sit and eat a sandwich.

Having settled in, we headed off for our first “real” day in New York. We stopped for lunch at an Italian restaurant close to the hotel in SoHo. The food was fine, but the service was disappointing. I like to imagine our tip was received with similar disappointment. Then we jumped aboard a Subway and headed north.

I quickly became very attached to my subway map, and soon learnt the various routes and stations with savant-like exactitude. What I didn’t master was finding my way out of the subway stations. Those subway stations are huge. They are usually at least the size of city block and two levels deep. I’d suggest that people who enjoy using the word labyrinthine would certainly describe them as such. They were labyrinthine (see what I mean?). It is very difficult to predict which street you’ll end up on, and which way you’ll be facing, when emerging from a subway station.

We got off at 42^nd St and headed to Times Square. It may be a geometrical misnomer (I’ve seen squares, and that there ‘taint one), but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a terribly exciting place to be. Mind you, there’s only so much of having a 20 foot tall Daniel Radcliffe grinning maniacally overhead that even the most durable of constitution can stomach.

If you weren’t aware, Times Square is where it all happens in New York on New Year’s Eve. People gather to watch the ball descend atop the New York Times building. The ball in question is some monstrosity of coloured lights that really didn’t excite me. But I guess that really sums up the fundamental problem with New Year’s Eve. The excitement and anticipation is always just a little more that the reality can sustain.

I’m told (well actually I read) that one million people gather in Times Square to watch the ball drop on New Year’s Eve (and yes, I’m smirking when I write about the ball dropping an descending, but can we please just move on). Now, Times Square is essentially an intersection. If one million people are going to be standing at an intersection to watch a ball drop (stop it!) then I think I’d prefer to be somewhere else. In fact, I’m also told (well, overheard in this instance) that the smart people head to Bethedsa Terrace in Central Park.

Central Park. Now there’s something. I had no idea just how big it is. And how full of healthy people doing healthy things. Things like running and riding bikes and skating about on rollerblades and rowing boats on lakes. Except for one guy who’d evidently pushed the healthy activities a little too far and so on our first foray into the park we were greeted by a guy having a good old chunder.

I also had no idea how many huge rocky outcrops would be scattered through the park.

But it’s the size that really amazed me. 834 acres. Let me put it into perspective for you. Take a regular photograph. That’s 6 inches by 4 inches. It’s a lot bigger than that. But, if you take that photograph, and cut it in half lengthwise, and then in half again – you’ll have a long and skinny photograph. Now, take about 28,000 of those photographs and lay them side by side to form one row. Then, make about 28,000 rows just the same. That’s how big central park is.

If that didn’t do it for you – check this out. I’ve laid Central Park across North Melbourne. You probably want to click on this to enlarge it ...

Now do you get it?

REFLECTIONS ON TIPPING

2011-05-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

Before I continue with my loosely chronological reflections on our US trip, I’d like to pause for a topical sojourn in tipping town. No? Not working? Well, I just thought I’d write something about tipping.

If you had me pegged as the type to object to tipping, you’d not be alone. And you’d be in good company – for I also had me pegged as a tiny tipper. However, you’d be wrong. You and me both. I am a big fan of tipping.

Why the seemingly inexplicable about face in my stance on tipping? Well, let me firstly correct your mistaken notion. I had no stance on tipping. I thought I had a stance, but it turns out I didn’t. Secondly – it’s all about service. In theory, tipping provides incentive for good service, and empirically, it seems to work. Sadly, very rarely in Australia have I experienced or witnessed the quality of customer service that is so commonplace in America.

In fact, outside of New York, the customer service was almost always excellent. Service in New York was a little more variable. We still had some excellent service in New York, in fact probably some of the best for the trip, but we also had some pretty average service. I have a theory that this reflects the nature of tipping in New York. I believe that city people are more inclined to tip as a matter of course without regard for service. In fact, tips are often included on the bill in New York – which I very much dislike. Once tipping becomes so entrenched and accepted without regard for service, it no longer acts as an incentive.

And if you don’t like that one, I have another theory. Serving staff on the west coast are much poorer than in New York. Whilst the purchasing power of a dollar may be the same coast to coast, that does not mean that it’s value is the same to everyone. Someone fighting to keep their family fed will work harder for a dollar than someone with a comfortable living.

And if those two still don’t do it for you, let me try one more. Serving staff on the west coast are predominantly Mexican. Could there be a cultural factor in play? Is there too much drumming into the heads of white American children that they are better than anyone else and should never feel inferior to another person? Doesn’t great customer service require that you put the customer’s interests first? Occasionally we came across a waiter in New York with that air of superiority as if to have us believe we were privileged to be allowed within their hallowed halls. In such cases we tipped very poorly.

And that’s the other beauty of tipping. One the one hand, it generally drives good service - but when the service is poor, there’s some satisfaction in leaving little or no tip. Just leave the cash on the table and scarper.

I wonder how precise most people are with their tips. If, like me, you get most of your American culture (is that an oxymoron?) from television – and more specifically from sitcoms like Seinfeld and Friends – then you would expect that tipping involves a reasonable about of deliberation and calculation. We typically rounded to the nearest five dollars. Up or down.

In further support of my belief that tipping works:

You don’t tip for takeaway
Service at takeaway places is generally pretty poor (much like in Australia)

I have also wondered whether tipping could work in Australia, and for four reasons, I don’t believe it could.

Firstly, to initiate a tipping culture without raising costs requires that basic wages are reduced. I really can’t see that happening because …

Secondly, Australia is a welfare state with complex employment laws. Australians by and large feel a sense of entitlement. Entitlement to a job. Entitlement to fair pay. The balance of power between employees and employers is much different in Australia to America.

Thirdly, Australians reject any notion of class. This is the same cultural issue that I suspect drives better customer service on the west coast than the east coast of America. The problem with excellent customer service is that nasty word “service”. To genuinely put a customer’s needs ahead of your own is very difficult proposition for a culture that rejects notions of class and servitude. It also makes Australians difficult to serve, because many Australians feel just as uncomfortable having something perform menial tasks for them as they would performing menial tasks for someone else. When a washroom attendant handed me a paper towel to dry my hands, I was torn between appreciating the service but at the same time feeling that I was taking advantage of a less fortunate individual.

Now, as a multicultural society, this aspect is not insurmountable. There a plenty of cultures represented in Australia who don’t have the same hang-ups preventing them from subserviating themselves to customers.

Finally, I don’t believe tipping could work in Australia because I’ve seen it in action. Many, if not most restaurants offer at the very least a tip jar. Some even add gratuities to bills. But I’ve not witnessed any appreciable difference in service from such establishments, and certainly nothing approaching the standard quality of American service.

Before I sign off, let me offer a final two observations and tie them back to tipping.

Most Australians have a fairly jaundiced view of American people.
Most American people I met or otherwise observed in America were pleasant, friendly, and not in the least loud-mouthed and obnoxious.

What’s going on here? My theory is this:

Pleasant and friendly American person comes to Australia for a holiday
Australian customer service is exceedingly poor by American standards
Once pleasant and friendly American becomes increasingly grumpy as they are faced with consistently disappointing customer service.
Now gumpy American begins complaining
American has accent
Nearby Australians witness this gumpiness, find the accent a little grating, and create mythology about what terrible people those bloody yanks are.

New York - Part 1 (and a touch of San Francisco)

2011-05-16T03:17:00.000-07:00

For better or for worse, we’re home from our trip, and for the very life of me I can’t conceive of how that could be better. So, for worse, we’re home from our trip. However, blog years are something akin to dog years, and in blog years we’re still leaving San Francisco on a plane headed for New York city.

But before I proceed, I forgot one last highlight from San Francisco. Actually, I’ve very likely forgotten plenty of tasty nuggets, but one that recently re-emerged in my mind is walking up Lombard St.

For those who don’t know, Lombard St is famous for one block with a 27% incline and eight hairpin turns. For those who do know, the same applies, you just don’t need me banging on about it. Although, to be honest, I was pretty succinct in my description, so I don’t know where you get off accusing me of banging on.

Anyway, you now know something of Lombard St, which leaved only for me to reassure you that we walked up it. And we did. Be assured of that. We stood at the bottom and looked up. We walked up. We stood at the top and looked down. There’s really not much else to do.

But back to the task at hand, which is to continue onto New York. The Big Apple. The City That Never Sleeps. Gotham City. The Melting Pot. The Jolly Splendid Metropolis.

Our journey was a lengthy one for three reasons. Firstly, we stopped over in Denver for almost three hours. Secondly, New York is three hours ahead of the west coast. And finally, let’s not forget that it’s a bloody big country to be flying across. 4,152 kilometres with a landing and take-off in the middle equals over 6 hours of flying time. Add all these together, and we left San Francisco at 9:00am, and didn’t land at La Guardia until 9:00pm.

In the interests of saving money and confusing our pursuers, we booked our first night at an airport hotel. It seemed like a good idea at the time, being the time I booked it, but not so much at the other time – when we arrived. Our first taste of New York was slightly disappointing. We waited forever in the restaurant at the hotel to be served the worst pizza I had ever eaten (a title later lost to Hollywood, but that’s not for now). I was also surprised to find that the drapes didn’t close fully. The tracks stopped with about an 18 inch gap in the middle. (I was even more surprised to find that the drapes in our other New York hotel were the same. Is this to ensure that the city never sleeps?)

Still, I don’t imagine it would be fair to judge any city on the basis of a cheap airport motel.

There’s a lot to love about New York, and one of the things that particularly appealed to me was the public transport. Sure, there are more comfortable and convenient ways to get about, but there’s nothing like public transport to really get yourself embedded in a new city. After our first night, we shuttled back to the airport, where we bought 7 day metro cards and began our journey. We caught the M60 bus from LaGuardia to Astoria Blvd in Queens, and rode an N train across to Manhattan, leaving a 15 minute walk to our hotel. The only downside was lugging our cases up the stairs to the platform in Queens, and then up the stairs again from the Prince St subway station. We later discovered that the Canal St station was closer to our hotel.

And so we arrived at the Hampton Inn in SoHo (that’s South of Houston if you’re wondering). Whilst the room was not so luxurious as the Grand Hyatt in San Francisco, this was our favourite accommodation of the trip. The tone was set when we arrived, well before check-in time, and were greeted with “Hello. Yes your room is ready. Would you like some coffee or juice?” The staff at this hotel were delightful, and the buffet breakfast was a welcome relief from cereal in paper bowls. Our only complaint – those blinds that don’t close.

San Francisco - Part 3

2011-05-12T00:02:00.000-07:00

I start this post in a phenomenally bad mood – having just finished typing it and then losing it. Bloody stupid Blogger. And what I’d written was so insightful, witty and elegant. You’ll need to trust me on that because the spark has gone and all I can hope for now is insipid, tedious and ungainly.

So where was I? I recall three final highlights from San Francisco – in no particular order.

Firstly (remembering this is in no order), we discovered Ghirardelli chocolate. More importantly, we discovered that Ghirardelli were running a promotion and handing out free chocolate squares as we entered the store. Now, I like to think that I enjoy chocolate as much as the next guy, but I have no idea who the next guy is. What I don’t believe is that I like chocolate as much as the next girl – particularly if the next girl is Suzy. Anyway, I still prefer good old Cadbury with its glass and a half of full cream milk in every 200 gram block. However, I would never knock back a free chocolate, and so we made sure to visit all three of the stores within Ghirardelli square and accept our free chocolates in each. The kids made sure to complete this circuit many times during our stay.

Secondly (still in no order), we visited Alcamatraz. And how is it that the officialdom of nomenclature overlooked that middle syllable? Two little letters that alone may be baby’s first word, yet in Alcatraz can raise a word from a bit of fun phonetic frottage to an exquisite oral joy. Let’s say it together now – Alcamatraz. And I have Jesamine to thank for introducing me to this pleasure, just as you may now thank me.

We were ferried across to the Rock, where we toured the old prison with our audio guide headsets. I’ve not had a lot of experience with audio guides, but I’ve heard enough to know that this was particularly good. The narrations are provided by ex-guards and inmates, with a backdrop of prison sounds creating an immersive experience.

One particular joy was a woman who was clearly not a regular user of headphones, shouting to her husband “Are you up to the bit about the spaghetti?” We knew she was shouting. He knew she was shouting. But she had headphones on.

Third of the unordered highlights - Jesamine had her portrait sketched by a street artist in the Fisherman's wharf area. Not a particularly good likeness, but it was cheap (though of course not as cheap as the signs would have us believe). Which reminds me, when we unpacked our bags in San Diego, the clay portrait Connick had done at Santa Monica was broken - despite being wrapped in an almost full roll of toilet paper. Bummer.

And now, some final observations from San Francisco:

I saw quite a few Prius taxis
Some of the police cars were in pretty poor condition
The buses are insufficient for the patronage they attract. We waited at one stop and watched 3 buses drive past because they were too full to pick us up. We then missed our stop getting off because we couldn't push through the crowd to reach the doors in the 15 seconds that the bus stopped.

We finished our San Franciso visit as it began - at the Les Joulins Jazz Bistro on Ellis St. It was not the same band as on our first night, and they were late arriving. Imagine my disappointment when the piano player turned out to be the same hack from our first night. Strangely, he played better, but the band didn't work together at all. The food was still great though.

This concludes another leg of our epic adventure. Next stop, the Big Apple.

San Francisco - Part 2

2011-05-08T22:27:00.000-07:00

We commenced our time in San Francisco with two days of hopping on buses, and hopping off buses, and hopping on buses, and hopping off buses ... Lucky for us San Francisco offers hop-on-hop-off buses. The accompanying commentary was not great, but it was okay. The big advantage of the bus is the sense of orientation it provides. After a couple of loops of the city, you get a good feel for where things are.

City Hall was one of the first, and most impressive, of the landmarks we passed. The current building is a replacement of the original, destroyed in the 1906 earthquake. Apparently the monument on the roof was all the survived of the original building. It later fell off the back of a truck and was destroyed. Now that's a spot of bad luck.

The building stands intentionally taller than the United States Capitol, and displays more than it's fair share of gold leaf. An amazing sight for tourists to gaze upon, but I still couldn't help wondering how the hell the local council structure their budget to be able to afford this granduer without a revolt by the ratepayers.

The building looks like this (not my photo) ...

San Francisco is filled with beautiful Victorian architecture - including the famous painted ladies on Alamo Square. Which look a little like this (not my photo) ...

Our first hopping off point was the legendary Haight Ashbury district - which may lay claim to primary credit for my adoration of this crazy town. Haight St is just the very place to be if you're shopping for second-hand clothes, smoking paraphenalia, hats, fetish wear, antique clothing, books, musical instruments, and other stuff both weird and fulfilling of wonderous desires. One of my favourite clothing stores on Haight St would have admirably outfitted both Prince (as known presently, formerly, or prospectively) and Captain Jack Sparrow. It sold the most perfectly formed top hats I've ever seen.

From one of the second-hand stores I purchased just the leather jacket that I never managed to procure as an Arthur Fonzerelli devoted pre-teen (though I do recall owning a black vinyl jacket lined in astonishingly scarlet satin). Being a cold city, this jacket was functional as well as smashingly attractive.

In my new jacket, I looked precisely this cool ...

Now if only I'd purchased that second-hand leather cod-piece I had my eye on ...

The Booksmith on Haight St is a bountiful buffet for the bibliophile. A cornucopia of comprehensive composition. It brought my fiscally conservative personality into direct conflict with my love of a good book (or twenty). The result ... despite the apparent evidence of my extensive library - I'm still at heart a massive tight-arse and left empty handed though heavy of heart.

Another stand-out was the Haight Ashbury Music Centre. A music shop as I remember them from a forgotten era. An era when music shops could afford floor stock. Hundreds of guitars hanging on walls. I felt young again to just stand there in slack-jawed wonderment.

As the buskers along Haight St make clear, there are far more people in San Francisco who own guitars than can play them.

Another noteworthy sight from the open top of our tour bus was a black girl being handcuffed on the street by more policemen than was probably necessary. I have no idea why she was being arrested, but Obama is still alive so I'm ruling out presidential assassination.

We crossed and recrossed the Golden Gate Bridge. It can be cold and windy crossing the bridge on the open top of a tour bus, but it can be tolerable when you've got a heavy leather jacket and the foresight to lose your hair so that it doesn't blow into your face.

Did you know that the Golden Gate Bridge is painted International Orange - the same colour as the pressure suits worn by NASA astronauts?

Did you know that the cables supporting the 2km span are almost one metre in diameter, and contain 27,572 separate wires? In total, there are 129,000km of wire in the cables.

I'm what's known in the trade as a trivia-trove.

Anyway, here's what the bridge looks like when Jesamine sits in front of it ...

And at this point, I'll leave it for another day. Goodbye.

San Francisco - Part 1

2011-05-06T08:37:00.000-07:00

I've lost count of the days, but at some point we wound up in San Francisco.

Just as I had no idea how much I'd loathe Las Vegas, nor did I know how San Francisco would agree with me. Frisco is my kind of town.

One complaint though - the place seems overrun with Australians.

Our San Franciscan lodgings, the Grand Hyatt on Union Square, were excellent. Large room, comfortable beds, electric blinds on the windows - but no free internet! Something of an anomaly for a US hotel in this day and age.

Having dropped off the rental car, we set out in search of food. In the wrong direction. A couple of dollars to a helpful homeless guy set us off in a better direction.

Homeless people are a feature of San Francisco. Not in the way the entertainment industry would use the word - "Come see San Francisco, now featuring more wretches and toothless crones than San Diego" - but certainly the homeless are prominent and plentiful. Some busk - generally pretty badly - and many just beg. For some, it's a fine line.

The accepted wisdom, as espoused by the travel affionados, is not to give money to the homeless. I don't understand this. Will this make the problem worse? I don't think this is a career choice for these people. San Franciso is cold. Mark Twain allegedly said "The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco." Living on those cold streets can not be a choice, no matter how many brothers spare dimes. That said, I would like to sully my frugal reputation by suggesting we were handing out cash on the streets willy and/or nilly - just to the occassional busker or to someone who gave us directions.

On the corner of Powell and Geary, you can likely find a guy drumming on an array of upturned buckets, pots, and pans. He doesn't play as a drummer would - well, not as I would - but he hits away at the various targets with a pair of sticks, and he sings along. He may not sound great - but he's real. (Not my photo)

Another favourite we came to avoid, was this guy (again, not my photo) ...

The internet tells me his name is Norman Yancey, and you'll find him outside Ghiradelli Square. The internet tells me all manner of things about him that may or may not be true. What I do know is that he holds a guitar, he'll strum an A chord and an D chord, and he calls out rhymes. "Hey pappa, you got a dollar for my supper". Then he laughs a little too raucously, but nonetheless infectiously. As you move on, you'll hear the same rhymes called out to the next passers by - and he'll laugh just as hard. I don't know if he can even play the guitar, but he holds it well as we cross the road and he calls "look out for that bus, and bring be back a couple of bucks"

Even along Haight St, where the buskers took themselves a little (even a lot) more seriously, there was not much actual talent. A little disappointing, but still, I love the whole atmosphere of a city where people perform in the open air.

But back to our search for food, and we found ourselves at Les Joulins Jazz Bistro on Ellis St, listening to Bohemian Knuckleboogie. Bandleader Mike Pitre plays a mean pocket trumpet, and sings with real Dr John growl - but the piano player was woefully disappointing.

The meal was delicious.

This concluding our first night in San Francisco, I may need to leave it there. Unfortunately getting out and seeing things on this holiday is making it very hard to find to time to write about things.

Night all

Day 16 - Road Trip

2011-05-01T19:42:00.000-07:00

The local youth have been celebrating spring break while we've been visiting the USA, and what better way to jump on the spring break band wagon that with a road trip?

To Cancun?

No?

Frisco?

A little less traditional for spring break, but why not?

And so we picked up our rental car and bid Vegas farewell. Actually, Vegas can fare as it damn well pleases. I felt like an animal escaping a zoo.

'Twas a lengthy and largely uneventful drive. Driving on the right side of the road is easier to adjust to than driving on the left side of the car. I don't know how many times I turned the wipers on to make a turn.And I never really got used to looking to the right for the rear-view mirror.

Leaving the artifice of Vegas quickly reveals the harsh reality of the Mojave Desert. The Mojave Desert, named for the local people, is defined by the Joshua Tree. What a great name for an album. What? That preachy do-gooding pretentious wanker. What? Sorry, I thought you said Sting.

If you like the look of Yucca Brevifolia (that's ET for Joshua Tree - he was a botanist wasn't he? And one hell of a telecommunications engineer to boot) then you'll love the Mojave Desert. If that's your bag, then chances are you'll also like Enya.

Besides Yuccas, our desert trek was made very slightly interesting by the sight of substantial snow on the distant mountains, and by passing somewhere within the vicinity of Edwards Airforce Base - where Frank Zappa lived as a teenager during the late 1950s. In fact, he wasn't just living as a teenager in some bizarre fantasy - he was an actual teenager at that time. Later in life he wasn't a teenager.

Knowing that Frank Zappa once lived somewhere near by but not being sure exactly in which direction might not seem very interesting - but such is the nature of driving through a large desert.

The desert becomes less well, deserty, around the town of Mojave, where the land rises to the Tehachapi mountains. The pass through the Tehachapi mountains is notable for wind turbines. Lots of wind turbines. No, really, I'm talking LOTS of wind turbines. Like, 5000 wind turbines.

(Take what you think is a lot of wind turbines, multiply it by, like, 10, say, and that's how many wind turbines there are ... with thanks to Chris Lang).

Driving through the Tehachapi pass provided some beautiful vistas (you may know these as "views", because you're not a pretentious bastard like me) - which I enjoyed alone as the family slept.

On the other side of the Tehachapi mountains we descended into the San Joaquin Valley, from which is produced a significant portion of the United States' agriculture. Hundreds and hundreds of miles of plantations as far as the eye can see. Whilst mostly plantations, we also passed one dairy farm - and quite a dairy farm it was. We were alerted by the odour, which we immediately blamed on Connick. But then there were cows. I don't know how may cows, but certainly in the thousands. Oh, to be a manufacturer of three legged stools and wooden buckets in the San Joaquin valley.

The California Aqueduct follows the interstate for much of the trip through the San Joaquin valley. I didn't see Donald Duck at Disneyland, so I took great interest in the California Aqueduct. Over 1100 kms of concrete lined channel. By gosh that's quite something.

Despite such an impressive delivery system, the region has clearly not been without its water problems - both climatic and political. Quite a few dead plantations stood with signs proclaiming "Stop the Congress Created Dust Bowl" (or something like that).

The road down into San Francisco was lovely, through velvety rolling hills. The road surface, on the other hand, was appalling. I doubt that local drivers would ever know if they had a flat tyre. The surface really made the car rattle and hum ... now there's a good album title. What? Not again. That sermonising Irish git. What? Not Bob Geldof?

One of the pleasures of west coast driving is a near-total disregard for red lights. The right turn of red is allowed by law, but to speed the flow of traffic I took some further liberties with this. Probably lucky I didn't have far from the motel to the Hertz drop off. I also noticed many intersections where all arriving traffic faces STOP signs. I'm not sure who gets right of way, so, again, probably lucky I restricted most of my driving to highways.

Did I mention driving across the Golden Gate bridge? Turns out I didn't - it was a different bridge. But we did cross it a couple of times on the hop-on-hop-off bus later in our trip.

But that, as they say in the classics, is not for now.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Days 12, 13, 14 & 15

2011-04-24T12:12:00.000-07:00

I've not read Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Lothing in Las Vegas, but I think I will.

Vegas is NOT my kind of town. I can't explain why it's not my kind of town, but I think it's got something to do with the lack of reality and originality. It almost certainly has something to do with me being no longer young and carefree - not to mention being cautious with my money. I can imagine enjoying Vegas if I was 21 and single. I can even imagine surviving Vegas if I was 21 and single - almost.

At 39 and married with children, Las Vegas made me suddenly and severely depressed.

I cried a lot in Las Vegas.

At first glance, it's certainly impressive. Everything exists on a grand scale. All of the world's most iconic monuments reproduced and thrown together along a couple of miles of "strip". But they're just repoductions. And they're not faithful reproductions. They're reproductions calculated to find an economic sweet spot where visual impact is maximised on a budget. It all feels like Emerald City in the land of Oz - and the man behind the curtain is a shifty bastard!

The most appopriately named casino in Vegas .... The Mirage

So, after a long ride on a Greyhound bus, and a short-ish ride in a taxi - we arrived at our castle. And let me firstly say that my romantic notions of Greyhound buses were shattered. But I can't blame Greyhound for my unrealistic romantic notions. I don't know that Greyhound ever did anything to create the images in my mind. Music and movies are to blame for that. Why should I assume that vagrants fleeing across vast tracts of land to escape their past and create new lives with nothing more than the clothes on their back and perhaps a battered guitar case would be doing so on luxury coaches? Sorry, my bad, but I get it now.

As I said, we arrived at our castle, and in typical Vegas style, first impressions are impressive. Which is no great surprise. For an impression to be other than impressive would require at a minimum some mangling of our language. Of course, what could be more fun than mangling a language? They don't call English a manguage for nothing. In fact, they don't call English a manguage at all. Or, if they do, I've not met them.

Our hotel - Excalibur - is vast. Almost 4,000 motel rooms and about a dozen turrets. All themed in medieval style.

The second thing you notice is the smell. My talents with describing odours are limited - so I fear I can do not justice in describing the smell. It's not a particularly bad smell. It's almost a sweet smell, in a disinfectant sort of a way. I presume it's a cover for the smell of smoke - of which there is plenty in the air. For me, not liking Vegas, the smell quickly became associated with my
overall distaste, and so every time I entered the building, it triggered my feelings of entrapment and revulsion.

Visual impression. Check. Olfactory impression. Check. The next thing we find is a very friendly chap directing us to what we assume to be the check-in desk. Another friendly face at what we still assume to be the check-in desk offers us cheap show tickets. We choose 4 passes to the Tournament of Kings, including an alleged 5 course meal (according to the friendly face), for the kingly sum of $50. Seems like good deal. And to receive our tickets, we just need to attend a short presentation - no more than two hours - at a motel 5 minutes down the road. Now, I have been to Queensland, so whilst I may not recognise the smell of a medieval themed casino, I can smell a timeshare presentation from 100 kms away at 1 part in 1000. Unfortunately, I'm also a sucker for a cheap show ticket, so we agreed to show up at 1:45 the next afternoon - with no obligation - to receive our tickets.

We took our first stroll down the strip. Plenty of street performers are happy to pose for photos in return for a small tip. One of the Michael Jackson's was even creepy enough to pass as a real paedophile.

Still in search of a bargain, we visited a "Tix4Tonight" booth to buy some cheap passes for dinner. If your not familiar, the theory here is that each night you can buy unsold show tickets at reduced prices. They also sell tickets for discount meals. Of course, Vegas being Vegas, things are not always as they seem. The small print on our tickets, which I read as we sat down to eat, specified that a 15% gratuity would be charged on the undiscounted price. Can it really be a gratuity if it's a contractual obligtaion? It can in the English manguage.

So, we've got gambling (obviously), we've got smoking (not surprisingly), but two other vices are on constant display in the city of sin. Firstly, alcohol. Everyone seems to be sipping from a receptacle better suited to fighting forest fires. Some are shaped like plastic guitars (and close to full size), some are shaped like the eiffel tower (and, again, close to full size). And won't those enormous novelty cups come in handy when it comes to packing your suitcase for the trip home?

The other conspicuous vice is sex. At every street corner along the strip you find at least four short Mexicans snapping credit cards and pamphlets into your hand, advertising attractive ladies who can be at your hotel within 20 minutes. If the pictures on the cards are anything to go by, then Vegas has some incredibly hot ladies. If the chaps handing out the cards are anything to go by, then I'd doubt the pictures on the cards are anything to go by. Curiously, I saw as many women's clothing shops in Vegas as I saw casinos - yet looking through these cards you'd get the impression that there are no clothes to be had. Only strange ethereal points of light, and I'm still unsure whether they are intended to hide or to accentuate the rude bits.

But it's not just the cards on the street corners. Every casino seems to have dancers in lingerie, and girls delivering drinks to gamers in lingerie, and girls dealing cards in lingerie. And the breasts are all impressive (though no doubt only cheap replicas of the real thing). There are billboards advertising strip shows. Sex is everywhere. And it gives me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. And it's not just the employees. There was a lot of very impressive cleavage and short skirts and high heels, and I love to see it, and yet I can't help feeling I'd be better off if I didn't.

And does any city need a shop four stories high dedicated to M&Ms?

So, on day 2 of Vegas we met our tour group for the timeshare presentation. The friendly person who loaded us onto the bus assured us that he valued our vacation time, and that we would return as soon as possible. We were bussed to the Grandview. Now, the guy who booked us in told us it was five minutes down the road. They must have forgotten to drop us off the first time past, because it was 20 minute trip, and I'm sure that no-one trying to sell us timeshare would lie to us.

We waiting in a designated waiting area until, and when our names were called, a very friendly agent gave us some lunch and then a lenghty tour of the motel. It looks very nice - for a place sitting on its own nowhere near the rest of Vegas. By this stage our two hours was up, so we were getting impatient, and we were sat down for the sales pitch. We made it quite clear that we were not interested, and had only attended for the promised cheap tickets. But on she went. And we said no. And on she went. And we said no. And so she called in the big gun. All gold rings and chains. And he sweetened the deal. And we said no. And so he sweetened some more. And with barely concealed impatience we said no. And he made one last pitch. And we said no. And so he stamped an all important slip of paper to confirm that we had put up with his nonsense.

By this stage our friendly representative had turned nasty and refused to speak to us. We were ushered to the next stage, and another almost firendly person. We made clear that we were fed up, that they'd already taken more than 2 hours of our time, and that we wanted to get back to our holiday. "But it says here that you didn't arrive until 2:22pm". Aha, the five minute bus trip that took twenty minutes isn't included in the "no more than 2 hours". So, we answered some questions about how wonderful the sales presentation was, and just how low the final offer we refused was. Then we were ushered to another friendly person, who filled out yet more paperwork, and finally gave us our tickets. Well, not tickets as such. Vouchers to obtain tickets - subject to availability.

And what a fun bus trip back, with a bus full of passengers seething with hatred for the Grandview Las Vegas. Actually, it was probably good to blow off a little collective steam.

By the time we returned to our motel, our "no more than 2 hours" had been 3 hours and 20 minutes.

So, to understand just what's involved in selling timeshare, let's recap how many people chanelled us through this labrynth.

1 - the guy who directed us to the desk in Excalibur
2 - the guy who took our $50 and signed us up for the tour
3 - the guy who loaded us onto the bus
4 - the bus driver
5 - the person who led us from the bus to the waiting area in the grandview
6 - the lady who showed us around and tried to sign us up
7 - the big gun who tried really hard to make the offer look good
8 - the lady who surveyed us
9 - the lady who printed our tickets
10 - the bus driver who returned us to our motel

That's 10 people, or, as I like to call them, cunts, who presumably all received some payment for this unsuccessful attempt (with the possible exception of cunt number 6, who may work for commission - but probably still receives some retainer).

We spent the rest of our time in Vegas fending off offers from other cunts throughout the motel who attempted to feed us back into the machine. I employed my right to dimiss them less than politely.

And the silver lining from this dark cloud? The Tournament of Kings show was really quite good. I'm still having trouble indentifying the five courses that the friendly man at the desk (cunt number 2) promised. We had soup, we had a main meal, we had dessert. I don't claim to be any mathematical genius, but that sounds like three courses to me. I had a glass of coke. Perhaps that could be considered a fourth course.

This has been a pretty long and somewhat vitriolic post, but I'm not yet done with Vegas.

Whilst sitting in the spa at the motel with Jesamine and Connick, a guy who'd clearly been drinking for too many consecutive days and with a chip the size of a Las Vegas margarita clearly upon his shoulder, decided to lecture me about how Jesamine really can't stand me (I believe the proof being that his daughter can't stand him - and I can her point). It was a little uncomfortable, but I have a pretty good sense for which drunken idiots to needle, and which to smile at and nod along with. And so I smiled and nodded, and when his brother joined us, I smiled and nodded some more. Still, I felt it was only a matter of time till matters took a sour turn, and verily did a member of the resort staff arrive of queue and request that they leave the spa. Much agression ensued. And many were the security staff who arrived to herd them from the resort.

And herd they did. There must have been nearly a dozen security staff eventually - but never using undue force. Just herding.

For our last dinner in Vegas, we caught a shuttle to Rio Casino, and to Gaylord's Indian restaurant. This was one of the best Indian meals I've had.

We wandered home through many of the casinos, marvelling at the vacuous and ostentatious fixtures. Indoor fountain anyone? How about a canal complete with gondolas passing under four or five bridges? On a second floor?

No one can deny that Vegas is impressive.

Days 9, 10 & 11 - San Diego

2011-04-20T17:08:00.000-07:00

Can you feel my blogging energy waning? One post per day for 8 days, and suddenly a single post to cover 3 days.

We left the tour group behind in Anaheim - and left poor Rachel emotionally distressed. We caught a Lux Bus to San Diego - a trip of about 1 1/2 hours.

Our hotel is nice. The service leaves a bit to be desired.

First day here we explored the city on foot. We found a medical centre, and spent far too long waiting (some things are universal, or at least trans-continental) for a doctor to look at a rash under Jesamine's arms. With the appropriate antibiotics in hand (at least the doctor provides these, rather than sending us to a pharmacy), we found a lovely Indian restaurant for an early tea (or dinner, as the locals would have it). Actually, we found a number of nice looking Indian restaurants - but ate in only one.

One of the great illusions of dining in America is that it's cheap. It certainly looks that way at first glance - but when you add the tax and tip, we typically end up spending more than we would in Australia. And that includes sharing meals.

We found Horton Plaza - the local shopping centre - where we ran into the Flemings. They had also bussed to San Diego from Anaheim. It's a small world as they say (though they're not often geologists nor astronomers, so what would they know anyway?)

I purchased a book for $3 (plus tax). What, with that and my $15 t-shirt and $13 cap, I'm practically keeping the US economy afloat on my own!

Next day we found a Supermarket (Ralph's, for those with a perverse interest), and purchased some fresh fruit. We also revisited Horton Plaza, where we stopped for a movie. Scream 4. I think I recognised one of the house exteriors in the film from our Universal Studios tour.

We met the Flemings for tea (again, that's dinner locally) at the Old Spaghetti Factory. It was a longer walk than we remembered from our first day, so on the way home we took up the offer of a ride on the back of a pedi-taxi - i.e. a bicycle with a trailer. Suzy giggled the whole trip as this poor bugger tried to pedal the four of us uphill to our hotel. He gave up with about two blocks to go - which was still a pretty impressive effort.

Today, being day 3 of San Diego (and day 11 of our US trip), we visited Old Town San Diego. Given the local tourist advisor had warned us off visiting Mexico - this was the next best thing. Some amazing old houses. Lots of colourful (colorful in local-spell) markets. Jez and I toured the Whaley House - one of America's most haunted houses - and every bit as dull as I expected.

We then caught a taxi to Coronado, and checked out the Del Coronado hotel. Very impressive. Unfortunately the hot Southern Californian weather has left us temporarily, so a little too cool for swimming at the lovely beach.

In contrast to my earlier comment about the cost of dining, we got lunch at KFC/Taco Bell. For less than $5 I ended up with 1 hard taco, 3 soft tacos, 1 burrito, and a large coke (soda in the local tongue).

We caught the Ferry back to San Diego, and I believe I'm now overdue for a swim on the hotel pool.

Thanks for you attention.

Day 8

2011-04-17T22:53:00.000-07:00

Disneyland is an exciting, wondrous and magical place. And I've had my fill.

You CAN have too much of a good thing, and at the end of a 6-day pass, the sheer decadence has worn me down. Even the California Screamin' rollercoaster, over so many rides has progressed from thrilling, to exciting, to enjoyable, to somewhat dull, and finally to a little annoying. It's like gorging on block after block of chocolate. It's like seeing a great comedian perform the same routine time and again.

I don't mean that I now regret our time at Disneyland - only that I don't need any more for a little while.

And so I've left the family there for their final hours, and headed back to the motel to catch-up on a couple of days blogging. Tomorrow, we leave for San Diego by bus.

I won't run through the rides of the day - suffice it to say that we explored some of the less thrilling adventures with shorter queues that hadn't really been on our to-do-list. Though we did coax Suzy onto the Hollywood Tower of Terror early in the day - which was great.

To take a few steps back, the day started with the girls' final dance performance at California Adventure Park. Yet again we parents were a little emotional and a lot proud.

Today was also our farewell dinner - at the Rainforest Cafe. This is a little different to the Hot Spot in Traralgon - and even a little better than the Royal Exchange. It's a themed restaurant, with as much attention to detail as any of the Disney rides. Modelled on ancient ruins overgrown by rainforest, it includes a number of wall height fishtanks, and a few animatronic animals (including a couple of sizeable elephants). It was a great way to finish the official dance tour. Awards were awarded and speeches were spoken.

It turns out we'll be crossing paths with at least a couple of the other families who have overlapping further travel plans. In fact, our bus to San Diego is thanks to the Fleming family.

In closing, let me assure you that this was the eighth straight day of perfect blue skies, and after a couple of warmer days, was back to something in the mid twenties.

I realise that this post is out of order, but I thought I'd get it out of the way while it's fresh in my head. Now, onto Day 7 ...

Day 7

2011-04-16T14:54:00.001-07:00

Day 7 provided a rare opportunity for a sleep in. Whilst not a "free day", the girls were not performing till late in the day. We decided (well, Jez and Rachel decided) to do a little more shopping, so we booked a car to take us to the "Block at Orange" - the sort of shopping centre where all the shops have "outlet" at the end of their name, but nothing is noticeably cheaper.

We were picked up in a Lincoln Towncar, which I obviously find very apt because my middle name is Towncar.

In the afternoon, the girls performed in the Street Parade through Disneyland. They found it hard going - an hour or so of rehearsal and then dancing continuously for 2 km. But we loved it.

One thing I will say about Disneyland, is that you hear an awful lot of the Hawthorn Theme song.

Jez and Rachel were apparently interviewed for some TV show or other just prior to the parade. Unfortunately they have no idea who or what or why - so I doubt that we'll ever see it.

Connick purchased a sword or two from Disneyland. We're getting these delivered - and I sure hope they get through customs (or do I?)

Connick and I finally caught the fireworks display. It is very impressive. And to think that it's happening every day! (Except of course when technical difficulties intervene)

We also saw Fantastica - a show combination of live action, lights and water on the river front. The premise of the show is that it's Mickey's dream - but I couldn't help feeling someone may have slipped Mickey a Mickey.

A few other observations about America I've collected along the way:
- McDonald's thick shakes are topped with whipped cream - which seems a mite unnecessary
- Our money is much better, and getting rid of 1 and 2 cent pieces was a good idea.
- The line between domestic pickup (ute) and monster truck is very blurry
- There seems to be an issue with buskers that turning up for gigs. Sometimes there's just a DVD playing.

Anyway, let's call that Day 7, which along with the Day 8 I posted earlier, concludes the first leg of our journey.

Good night.

Day 6

2011-04-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

Another perfect day - if not a little too warm - and off to Hollywood.

We drove past a few notable locations, including the Venice High School that served as Rydell High for Grease. Our first stop was the Santa Monica pier, where Connick sat for a personalised sculpture (not a great likeliness, but still pretty cool). Jez and Rachel danced their own unique dance to a busking steel drummer - and then had a play on his steel drum.

We drove along some notable streets, including Sunset Strip where the famous nightclubs are, including the Whisky A Go-Go and the Viper room (once owned by Jonathon Depp and the place that River Phoenix allegedly took to the pavement like a duck to lead pellets).

The girls performed their dances outside Madam Tussauds on Hollywood Boulevard. It was very exciting with a huge billboard announcing "Welcome Danceworks 114 from Traralgon Australia".

It was also bloody hot!

We toured Madam Tussauds, and took photos in amusing poses with the waxen-folk. Some are very likelike, though I'm not sure they did justice to Angelina Jolie's breasts. Halle Berry's, on the other hand, were looking very swell (get it?) until I peeked into her top and they were a little incomplete and marred by seams in the wax (are they really wax? It feels more like plastic)

I was a little disappointed they didn't have wicks in the tops of their heads.

The girls headed off for a dance workshop at "The Edge". We parents headed to Farmers Market/The Grove for a short trip. This looks like a great shopping area, and one we may try to revisit when we return to LA in a few weeks.

Connick and I attempted to buy some fruit from a fruit stall, and ended up filming a commercial for sunkist mandarins. It will probably be on Youtube at some stage. Connick was very excited by his fame.

Jez and Rachel kept the bus entertained/annoyed with their singing all the way home.

By the time we got back to hotel, too little sleep and too little fresh fruit was catching up with me, so I took some Cold and Flu tablets and turned in for an early night.

Stay tuned for Day 7 ...

Day 5

2011-04-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

Our first free day!!! No wake-up call!!! Another day of perfect blue skies!!! Plenty of exclamation marks!!!

We took advantage of our first free-day with a sleep-in. I still woke reasonably early - because our room heats up pretty quickly under the Southern Californian sun (actually, it's the same sun we have in Australia - but it behaves a little differently when it's over this side of the world).

We caught a bus to Santa Ana for a bit of shopping. Not much for me and Connick to see, but I did manage to find a new splendid hat and an equally splendid t-shirt in JC Penny. Jez and Rachel have a new favourite shop here called Forever 21 - and they bought ... ummm ... clothes or something.

We headed over to Disneyland late in the afternoon, and stayed till after midnight. We saw the World of Colour show, which is a really impressive use of sprinklers and torches (btw, that's my "u" in colour, not Disney's, and I'd like it back when you're finished reading it.)

I don't believe we managed to lose anything on this particular day!

Day 4

2011-04-13T21:34:00.000-07:00

This morning we had a 6:30 wake up call, to head into Hollywood for our visit to Universal Studios.

It's a bit of a rush, because Universal only opens from 10am to 6pm - which seems a bit odd. We had to buy a new pass for Connick (having lost his along with his Disney pass the other day), but we at least got a discount off the retail price.

Driving into Hollywood is interesting. There are some iconic buildings to see - like Capitol Records - and of course the Hollywood sign. There are a lot of areas that look less than desirable to live in. We were held up by a four car accident on the freeway. Four crashed cars, two police, and about 14 tow trucks.

The girls again made all of us parents proud with their dancing.

Despite the limited time, we saw most of what there is to see at Universal. The studio tour includes a new King Kong segment, which is a highlight. The pick of the rides would have to be the Simpson's virtual roller-coaster - followed by the Mummy roller coaster.

The Waterworld show is impressive - though not everyone's cup of tea (not Suzy's for example).

Rachel managed to lose her purse today at Universal Studios - luckily someone handed it in with cash intact. So, that's Jesamine's phone, Connick's tickets, my hat, and Rachel's purse. We are fast becoming known as the loser family. Oh, and I just realised that I deleted all of today's photos off our memory card without downloading them. Lucky we hadn't taken any more photos, so the files seem to be recoverable. In fact ... yep ... I've got them back. Phew!!!

It feels like we've done so much less today - but I guess it's still been a pretty full day. The fireworks finished a while ago, so I know that it's after 10pm.

Tomorrow is our first "free" day. I believe there'll be some shopping, and then into Disney for some queuing.

Day 3

2011-04-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

Another beautiful day in Southern California. So beautiful, in fact, that I'm getting rather sun burnt about the bits that I keep overlooking with sunscreen.

One important fact that I overlooked in my day 2 post was that Connick has managed to lose his 6-day Disney pass and his Universal Studios pass. Did we not stress enough how important is was to look after these things? And Jesamine's not off the hook either - having managed to leave her phone on the bus from the airport.

We've got Jesamine's phone back, and so far Disney have been good with providing Connick complimentary passes. Not sure if Universal Studios will be so accommodating tomorrow. Unfortunately Disney have not provided me with a complimentary splendid hat. Lucky I brought a spare!

Today the girls danced at California Adventure Park. Again we were all very proud parents. It was a better stage, and a better performance.

Lots more rides at both parks for the afternoon. Yesterday Jesamine came up with the great gag of waiting till the lights go out in the Haunted Mansion, then laying on the floor pretending to be dead when the lights come back on. It was ever so much fun yesterday, so she did it again today. Sometimes you just can't keep a good gag down. Much like a bad meal.

Anyway, we returned for an early night rather than hang around for the fireworks. The plan was for a nice relaxing spa, but I got blogging and that boat has now sailed. In fact, the fireworks have just finished. Didn't sound like they suffered any technical difficulties today. Neither did the rides for that matter.

Well, I didn't make it to that spa, but it's only 10 past 10pm, so there's still time for a reasonably early night in readiness for a 6:30 wake up call in the morning. Tomorrow we're off to Universal Studios.

Night all.

Day 2

2011-04-12T19:52:00.000-07:00

Somehow it feels we've been here for a looong time. But I still don't have that feeling of being in another country - I'm pretty sure that I just took an extraordinarily roundabout route to the gold coast.

We had our early wake up call for the first day, for breakfast in Goofy's Kitchen.

Did I say breakfast? Then what the hell were those peperoni pizzas and hot dogs doing there? And how did anyone conceive of a peanut and jelly pizza? And that glass of orange juice I ordered - I'm sorry waiter but you seem to have brought me a bucket. And no - I don't need it refilled.

We had many characters come by for photos - and I must say Cinderella was very cute. Some to think of it, so was Aladdin.

Back from breakfast and the girls got ready for their first workshop and performance as Disneyland. Having seen them off, Suzy, Connick and I caught a taxi to the local Target for a spot of shopping. We bought a couple of cheap phones to keep in touch. Cell phones mind you - but certainly very mobile. Is there something wrong in the world when for $20 you can buy a phone, have unlimited calls to mobiles (sorry, cells) for 10 days, and then throw it away. At least we're here for a bit longer, so we might buy some more credit (sorry, airtime) and make it really worthwhile for the phone company.

Connick bought a Nerf gun - because he assured us it was ever so much cheaper than at home.

We also stocked up on cheap cereals, snacks and bottled water (24 bottles for $4 ... bargain). I don't recommend the US version of Cheerios. Very bland compared to our Australian 4 grain Cheerios.

We caught a bus back, and found that by appearing a little clueless and failing to have correct change, the driver waved us through on a vastly reduced fare. So, not entirely dissimilar to the tactic I employ when using trams in Melbourne.

The girls' first performance at Disneyland put a tear in most of our eyes. I blame the long flight and lack of sleep for leaving us in an emotionally fragile state. Imagine being 13 and dancing at Disneyland! Imagine being 13 and doing ANYTHING at Disneyland! I wouldn't suggest that dancing troupes on slightly obscure stages are big crowd pullers at Disneyland - but we did hear some very positive comments from a few of the non-parents who stopped by to watch.

In the afternoon, we hit the rides. But Monday was a very busy day. We decided to start using fast passes. For those who don't know, every two hours you can get a fast pass ticket for one ride. The ticket allocates a time, usually a couple of hours later, when you can walk straight to the front of the queue. You return at that time and walk smugly past the regular queuers.

What you don't expect is to find that the fast pass will have you return more than 7 hours later!

The wait times seem to have a lot to do with the rate of, what the Disney folk like to call. "technical difficulties". During our first two days at Disneyland, I have experienced most of the good rides having "technical difficulties".

Our fast pass ride on the Soaring Over California ride was a long wait - because the ride had been experiencing "technical difficulties". It is nonetheless a very cool ride.

I had my own "technical difficulty" on the California Screamin' rollercoaster - when I forgot to remove my splendid hat. Actually, I did remove my hat. I removed it by thrusting my head forward through the air at a rather cracking pace. Still waiting for it to turn up in lost and found (my splendid hat, that is - not my splendid head).

We had tea in a Mexican restaurant in Downtown Disney, then raced back to the park for the 9:30 fireworks display. We were running late, but lucky for us so were the fireworks. Due to - you guessed it - technical difficulties.

When it did start, we were becoming quite impressed - what with Tinkerbell flying across the sky and all. That was until the show came to an abrupt and unexpected halt - followed by an announcement that "we're sorry that fireworks show can not continue due to technical difficulties".

Suzy and I raced across to Space Mountain - one of the rides we'd been unable to get a fast pass for due to "technical difficulties". Another feature of the rides is that for those without a fast pass, there's always a sign telling you how long the wait will be. It turns out these signs are not always very accurate. A 25 minute estimated wait time was pretty close to one hour in real time. And that's adjusting for the time dilation effect caused by the speed of the rollercoaster.

When Jesamine, Rachel and I turned up for our 11:15pm fast pass on the Indiana Jones ride, it became a long wait as they sorted out some "technical difficulties". Suzy had also had a long wait for this ride earlier while they addressed some "technical difficulties". Luckily for the attendant and fellow queuers, we had two insane 13 year old girls to to liven things up. Jesamine and Rachel were in fine form, keeping everyone amused with their "Ossie" accents and refusal to give a straight answer to even the simplest question.

"So, are you sisters?"
"We're twins"
"Really?"
"Yes. We're born 11 days apart."
"What?"
"Well, we're mostly twins - but also mostly not twins"

Much merriment ensued.

Anyway, it made for a late night, as we eventually got on the ride and left Disneyland some time after midnight.

And can I just say before closing - the weather here is unbelievable. Warm days with clear blue skies. And still neither mosquito nor fly to be seen.

For those not on Facebook - we salute you

2011-04-12T08:08:00.000-07:00

I know that some people are not on Facebook, and I applaud your efforts to resist change and maintain your own privacy. On the other hand, uploading photos to a blog is time-consuming and tedious compared to Facebook.

I've put on five photos here - but I make no promises that I'll be putting many more on. Facebook just makes it soooo much easier.

About to head through customs

In the departure lounge

At Goofy's kitchen for breakfast

US trip - Day 1

2011-04-10T20:40:00.000-07:00

It really is quite something just what you can fit into a single day - particularly when you cross time zones (try not to cross time zones - they can be very unforgiving). It's quite something else
just how much time can be spent queuing!

It began for us as 5am this morning - or was it yesterday morning - when every phone and ipod started beeping to wake us up from our Tullamarine motel. It was Sunday10 April in Melbourne.

And the lord said unto the intrepid travellers "let there be queues". And lo there were queues. We queued for the bus, we queued for our boarding passes, we queued at customs, and we queued to board the plane. Suzy was held up at security as she attempted to smuggle some illegal hair product through in hand luggage. She was then pulled aside when boarding for an allegedly random security check. Random my sweet buttocks. She's got shifty eyes or my name isn't Max Power.

Here's a funny thing. Whilst boarding, we heard call for a Mr Einstein, who was apparently running late for his plane. Not a name you hear too often, but I like to imagine he boarded the plane to much sarcastic calling of "Well done Einstein." or "Bit of trouble finding the plane Einstein?". Perhaps one of the better read passengers could weave a cutting reference around the relativity of time.

So, anyway, we boarded Hudson Fysh, the QANTAS A380, and made for the skies.Well, just the one sky actually. The one you see when you look up.

This was my first international flight, and at the risk of sounding very Dale Kerrigan, I'll fill you in on the movies I watched. Freakonomics, The Deer Hunter, The Fighter, Annie Hall. I also watched a bit of stand-up comedy from Arj Barker and Jimeoin, and listened to a bit of music. I must say I'm impressed with the breadth of music available. I was even able to find some Charles Mingus and Oscar Peterson.

I tried to sleep, and I managed a couple of short naps, but nothing substantial. I also availed myself of the free Scotch & Coke on a couple of occasions.

Connick, made no attempt to sleep, and interrupted me frequently with chat requests (I was across the aisle from the rest of the family). Jesamine and Rachel didn't sleep much either.

So we landed at LAX a little after 7am LA time and did some more queueing. We queued our way off the plane, queued our way through border security, queued at the carousel for our bags, and queued at customs to reassure that we wouldn't be bringing anything nasty into the USA. A highlight for some whilst queuing at border security was seeing Nathan from Packed to the Rafters - or at least the actor who plays him. When I say "a highlight for some", I mean for those who have the faintest idea who he is. I thought he looked a bit like Jamie Oliver.

Having made our way through the various stages of security, we queued for us bus, which carried us to Anaheim, and then queued for our room keys to check into the motel.

By the time we settled into our motel (Howard Johnsons) Suzy failed in the plan to stay awake and get our bodies onto LA time. I could easily have succumbed, but the kids and I decided to head over to Disneyland. We've got 6 day tickets, and if we didn't got today we wouldn't get another chance to use that sixth day.

We stopped at McDonalds for lunch on the way. And queued. I've been to some pretty average McDonalds stores on Australia, but never anything that comes close to the wait at Anaheim. There were three (I think) couples in front of me when I joined the queue, but it was over 20 minutes before I was served - and then had to wait off to the side to get our meals. I gathered some interesting distinctions from this experience.

Over here, they call hamburgers "sandwiches". You can have the "meal" or the "sandwich".
In Australia when you order a meal, you specify small large or medium, which dictates the size of the accompanying fries and drink. Here there is only one size - and it's big.
The menu items are numbered, so ordering is more like in the stereotypical Chinese restaurant. "Can I have a Big Mac" will draw a blank stare - until they realise that "oh, you'd like a number 1?" (tee hee)
I saw no evidence that the Happy Meal has any place in American Culture.
And perhaps strangest of all - you can not order a cheese burger. Item 2 on the menu is "two cheeseburgers" - and that's what you get.

And so we crossed the road into Disneyland. There's a lot to look at, but there is a pretty narrow band of years in which kids can get excited about Mickey's Toon Town - and probably narrower now that we have Movieworld in Queensland.

Rides, however, can serve all ages - and so ...

we queued. Until the last two rides the day, I don't belive there was a ride for which we queued less that 30 minutes. And when a ride lasts about 20 seconds, that can be a painful trade-off.

We started with Gadget's Go Coaster. We then rode the Matterhorn bobsleds (which had just broken down when we first queued for them an hour earlier), the teacups (because they spin), the Indiana Jones Adventure (the favourite so far), the Pirates of the Carribean, and the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.

We then crossed over into California Adventure Park, specifically to ride the Tower of Terror - because Jesamine kept spotting it from a distance.

Connick hated the ride, as he kept repeating to me through clenched teeth and look of sheer terror throughout. But upon getting off decided it wasn't so bad after all. It's a poor trade-off though between queueing time and ride time.

We headed over to California Screamin', and the queue looked manageable, but Connick was not keen, and we were all so damned tired - so we decided to head back to the motel and see if Suzy had roused. Taking a wrong turning on the way out, we stumbled across the Grizzly River Rafting ride - which had no wait and offered a chance to rest our legs. That was enough encouragement so around we went, getting pretty wet in the process. With very few people still waiting to ride, we stayed on for a second round, and subsequently headed home thoroughly drenched.

Turns out Suzy has woken and tried to track us down - which was never going to work - but she did queue 45 minutes for the Ferris Wheel.

So, back to the motel, and we just headed out for a buffet tea. Now I know that you don't tip for fast food, and I know that you tip around 15% for table service, but we found ourselves out of our depth deciding how best to depart a buffet. Suzy tried questioning another customer, but it turns out he was recently landed from New Zealand, so not much help.

In the end we left $2 on the table and scarpered.

So there we have it. Day One. I've now been pretty much on the go for 34 hours, and it's time for bed. We've got a 5:30am wake-up call in the morning for our breakfast with Goofy.

I'm currently listening to the relentless and VERY load reports of fireworks over the road at Disneyland - but that's not going to wake the kids, who had well and truly crashed by 9pm LA time (2pm Melbourne time)

Good night.

VBA Dialogue Box for Excel

2011-03-02T16:58:00.000-08:00

This is not my usual sort of blog post - and of the very few people who occasionaly visit, probably all would be advised to move on. This is me sharing a technique I've developed for creating user forms in VBA - which I typically use to create Excel tools.

The problem I'm trying to solve is - how to incorporate user input into a function.

For example, let's imagine you've got a spreadsheet with a table of data containing three columns: names, ages, and addresses. You want to create a list of all the people older than age n. Not hard to do by sorting the data by age, copying the group meeting the criteria, and pasting that subset of data to another sheet. But what if your data gets updated regularly and you want to recreate this list each time? And what if you want a colleague of questionable competence to be able to do it while you're off saving the world? And what if you'd like to be able to change the value of n each time you run the process? Chances are you'll want a macro, or a function, or a program, or a script, or whatever you choose to call it, to automate this task.

If you're competent with VBA and know something of Excel's object libraries, you'll know how to create a loop to iterate through the rows in your data list and copy the data to another location where [age] > n. If you don't know how to do this, your competence with Google should lead in the
right direction. But how do you tell the function where to find n?

If you're using Excel, the simple answer is to collect the data in cells, and use sheet.Cells(row, col) to read the input. This works, but one of the reasons I use Excel a lot is its flexibility - but what you typically want with functions is control. What happens when someone inserts a new row? How does VBA know where to look for input data now? (I actually have another solution to this problem, which I might post later)

Most programs use some form of dialogue box to collect user input -at least the ones I write do. And here's how it's done ...

STEP 1 - CREATE A FORM
Insert a user form. At a minimum, you'll need:
1 label
1 input control (e.g. textbox)
2 command buttons

Here's mine ...

I've named the controls:
Text Box - txtAge
"CANCEL" Button - cmdCancel
"DONE" Button - cmdDone
(I don't care what the label is called, because I won't be referring to it in code)

STEP 2 - CREATE SOME OBJECT CLASSES
The tricky bit is passing information from the form back to the program - or at least to do it in a way that doesn't make you feel dirty and corrupted. Sure, you could write to global variables, but the form is an object and shouldn't need to know about global variables.

The way I control communication between the form and the calling function is by passing objects to the form, and having the form write to those objects.

So, what is the information we wish to pass? In this case, the program needs to know the value that is entered into the textbox, and which button was pressed to close the form.

You could create one object class with attributes for each piece of information you want to pass. I prefer to use an "OK" object with a single Boolean value to deal with the Done/Cancel information, because I can reuse this class for any other similar forms I create.

So, insert a class module or two. Here's the code from mine:

    OK Class

    Private mblnOK As Boolean

    Public Property Let Value(bln As Boolean)
        mblnOK = bln
    End Property

    Public Property Get Value() As Boolean
        Value = mblnOK
    End Property

    Age Class

    Private mintAge As Integer

    Public Property Let Value(intVal As Integer)
        mintAge = intVal
    End Property

    Public Property Get Value() As Integer
        Value = mintAge
    End Property

STEP 3 - ADD SOME PROPERTIES TO THE FORM
Now add some properties to the user form based on those object classes. Note that the Property Set functions specify that the objects are passed "ByRef". I'm pretty sure this is the default method of passing objects anyway - but it doesn't hurt to be sure. Here's the code:

    Private mAge As VBAProject.Age
    Private mOK As VBAProject.OK

    Public Property Set Age(ByRef obj As VBAProject.Age)
        Set mCalls = obj
    End Property

    Public Property Get Age() As VBAProject.Age
        Set Age = mAge
    End Property

    Public Property Set OK(ByRef OK As VBAProject.OK)
        Set mOK = OK
    End Property

    Public Property Get OK() As VBAProject.OK
        Set OK = mblnOK
    End Property

STEP 4 - LET THE FORM UPDATE THE OBJECTS
Use the Click event of the DONE button to update the object values. (The CANCEL button is a simple Unload Me)

    Private Sub cmdDone_Click()
        mAge.Value = txtAge
        mOK.Value = True
        Unload Me
    End Sub

STEP 5 - CREATE THE CODE TO LAUNCH THE FORM
With all the pieces in place, now it's simply a matter of creating some instances of the objects, loading an instance of the form, passing the objects to the form, and displaying the form. Note the use of vbModal, which tells VBA to halt processing this function until the form has been closed. I also use a Cleanup: subroutine just to be tidy. I'm pretty sure VBA is smart enough to release resources once my objects go out of scope, but it doesn't hurt to be explicit in tidying up.

    Public Sub Launch()

        Dim frm As frmAge
        Dim objAge As VBAProject.Age
        Dim objOK As VBAProject.OK

        Set frm = New frmAge
        Load frm
        Set objAge = New VBAProject.Age
        Set frm.Calls = objCalls
        Set objOK = New VBAProject.OK
        objOK.Value = False
        Set frm.OK = objOK
        frm.Show vbModal
        If Not objOK.Value Then GoTo Cleanup

            Do some stuff with the age value
            ...
            ...

    Cleanup:
        Set objOK = Nothing
        Set objCalls = Nothing
        Set frm = Nothing

    End Sub

And there you have it - my somewhat long winded but tidy implementation of a dialogue box in VBA.

Virgil Donati

2011-02-21T02:24:00.000-08:00

Late last year I went to a Virgil Donati clinic in Melbourne. Not that I do too much drumming these days, but it was a shot of nostalgia because I used to drive to Melbourne regularly in my younger days to see Virgil playing with various bands at the Grainstore on King St (now a strip bar ... or so I hear)

Apparently Virgil forgot to stop practising. The somewhat ironic thing I find is that the more technically proficient a musician becomes, and the more they push boundaries, the less accessible their music becomes. Which is to say, it is accessible, or understandable, to fewer people. Virgil has taken to this to such a level that I'm not sure he understands himself what the hell he's doing. I'm not too proud to admit that some of it sounded like complete bollocks to me. Anyone can make a drum solo sound like a crippled goat falling backwards down a spiral staircase - well, almost anyone - but it takes decades of unrelenting practice to do it on purpose ... and be specific about how many flights of stairs, the breed of goat, and a medical diagnosis of its disability.

At one point he was playing 5 beats with his left hand, 6 beats with his right foot, 7 beats with his left foot ... and folding a map with his right hand!

What's with all the words?

2011-02-08T02:22:00.000-08:00

I dropped my car off today for a service. During the short wait for the courtesy bus, I glanced below the T.V. to see a laminated sign upon one of the cabinet doors, which read "KIDS TOYS ENCLOSED".

Isn't that just a little too formal - and unnecessarily wordy.

Putting aside the missing apostrophe - and to be honest, I can't recall whether it really was missing, I'm just guessing it was because I've seen so many unnecessary apostrophes inserting themselves into plural word forms that I can only assume they've come from somewhere - as I was saying, putting aside the missing apostrophe, I would have assumed kid's toys. Adult toys is a term with a very specific meaning and not something I would expect to find within the waiting area.

Enclosed? Said toys were certainly not visible. The sign was on a cabinet door. Had I a desire to locate some toys to occupy and engage the mind, body and spirit of a youngling, I reckon I'd have fathomed the meaning without being beaten about the sensibilities by all this talk of enclosures.

Wouldn't "TOYS" have been, not only sufficient, but in some way more engaging?

Jesamine's bed

2011-02-05T17:23:00.000-08:00

I'm not known for finishing things. In fact I'm somewhat renowned for NOT finishing things. Nonetheless, yesterday I finished building Jesamine's bed. Re-building actually. I made Jesamine a four-poster bed about ten years ago (to match the cot that I made her when she was but a wee baby). The bed was made entirely from recycled timber - and just scrap packing timber at that!

Anyway, many months ago I pulled it apart to change it from a single to a double. This meant making it an eight-poster (because that was the easiest way to make it wider).

I did a quick 3D model in Blender to plan out how I was going to make it ...

My planning didn't avoid a couple of "challenges" along the way. I forgot that I'd originally made the bed head higher than the foot. I also found in putting it together that I'd originally (accidentally) made the side rails along the top 1 inch shorter than the bottom rails. Now I know why it had never gone together well as a single bed!

The biggest challenge was when I tried to assemble it all myself, resulting in falling and crashing and breaking and undoing of quite a bit of work.

This time around Jesamine helped me to assemble it (Jesamine also did most of the staining and lacquering of the new components).

And here it is - all finished ...

The Social Network

2010-10-30T06:25:00.000-07:00

Just back from seeing The Social Network. One of my all time favourite movies about a college guy establishing a social networking website!

Though it be not a comedy, 'tis comedic nonetheless. Mark Zuckerberg's total disdain for - well, pretty much everyone - makes for some very amusing dialogue.

Anyway, I though I'd do a quick sketch of Jesse Eisenberg, who plays the lead role. It's a bit of a work in progress, but I'm really not good with progress so this might be as far as it goes.

DIGITAL CARICATURE - DAVID SCHWIMMER

2010-10-28T05:32:00.000-07:00

Seems almost as though every time I turn on the telly these days there's a new channel playing episodes of some-one-thing-or-if-not-perhaps-another.

And what better to rerun than Friends?

In honour of which - here's tonights painting ...

DIGITAL CARICATURE - MIKEY ROBBINS

2010-10-24T04:50:00.000-07:00

My second attempt with the new graphics tablet ... Mikey Robbins.
This was a real bugger for me. I chose Mikey because I thought he'd be easy to caricature - but I had real trouble getting a likeness. I'm reasonably happy withe end result - but gee willakers I redrew it a lot.

DIGITAL PAINTING - STEPHEN FRY

2010-10-18T03:11:00.000-07:00

I received a graphics tablet from my parents on Saturday - a belated birthday present.

I thought I'd give it a go last night and came up with this caricature of that bard of badinage - Stephen Fry.

I'm happy enough with it as a first attempt at using a tablet.

Yet more caricatures

2010-06-26T19:59:00.000-07:00

Yes - I've been at it again. I ebb and I flow. For the time being the current ebb is caricaturing - so here you'll find the latest of those that I'm not too embarrassed to display.

First up - here's my Jack Black ...

... and here's my soon to be sister-in-law Jo. I sketched this for her 30th birthday card, then scanned it into photoshop for colouring. Not something I've tried before, and not a great result but I'm happy enough for my first effort ...

... after an interesting week in politics, here's our ex Treasurer and now Deputy PM, Wayne Swan. Which reminds me, I wrote to him some time ago about an issue I have with our tax legislation, I'm I've still not had a response. Useless bastard!

I made two attempts at alleged funnyman Peter Helliar, but I'm not happy with either. I think I prefer the first ...

I saw Pauley Perrette on Good News Week recently, and I though she was quite cute, so here she is as Abby from NCIS ...

I was astounded by Dermott Brereton's hair on The Footy Show recently, which somehow led me to draw him with less astounding hair...

And finally, this Nicholas Cage is not quite there as a likeness, but I still liked it as a picture ...

Hamish & Andy, Masterchef

2010-05-18T03:45:00.000-07:00

I really should just allow this blog the death that it deserves, but every so often I do something that I'm a little bit proud of and I can't help showing off.

What am I proud of? (I hear you ask)

Why, my new drawings of course.

Please would you peel back your eyelids and feast your peepers on these little jim-dandies that fell from my leaden pencil in recent days.

First up, that inimitable radio duo. The one with dreamy eyes, the other with a dreamy girlfriend.

Hamish Blake and Andy Lee ...

And while I've got you feasting - snack upon this tasty morsel of reality cheffery. With the magic of digital technology I have combined some spanking new caricatures of the toad like Gary and the Charlie Brown-esque George with my previous effort at the cravatted Matt Preston. And so I give you - Masterchef.

That will be all. Return to your goings about.

New caricatures

2010-03-22T04:48:00.000-07:00

It's not that I've forgotten about the blog. It's just that I'm incredibly lazy. I have managed a few caricatures in the last few days though. Here's my take on Arnie, Matt Preston and R Patz.

Come on consumers - stand up for yourselves!!!

2009-11-21T03:37:00.000-08:00

After yet another retail disappointment, I'm feeling let down by my fellow consumers. When did we all decide to roll-over in the face of return and refund policies that deny basic consumer rights?

More and more often we spend good money on faulty goods - and then wait for indeterminate periods, with neither our money nor our goods, whilst they're sent off for repair.

I recall some months ago when we bought a HDD/DVD Recorder from our local (Traralgon) Harvey Norman. When it proved faulty, I returned it - with receipt - to the store for a refund. I was advised that they couldn't refund, and it would need to be sent to the service agent for repair. Sent by me! How's that for after sales service? Worse still, I knew from prior experience that the repair agent, Earl & Becker, were not the type of service-oriented business I cared to deal with - and on this count I was not disappointed in being disappointed. I rang, explained the problem, and was advised that I would need to bring it in, and that it would be 2-4 weeks before they could look at it. Now, given that the unit was only faulty in recording, but still worked fine as a set-top box, I suggested that they might place me in their queue and give me a call to bring the unit in when I reached the top of the list. But no no no. Much too difficult apparently. It would have to sit in their workshop for the 2-4 week gestation.

So, I rang Harvey Norman, and suggested that this was a less than acceptable solution. The sales assistant certainly sympathised with me, but unfortunately Earl & Becker are the service agent for that manufacturer (who I can't recall).

Not to be deterred, I wrote to the manufacturer outlining my concerns with the service agent. They, rather unhelpfully, responded with the number for Earl & Becker, and suggested I contact them if I had a problem with a product.

I felt somewhat frustrated at this point, so, arming myself with suitable information from the Consumer Affairs website, I returned to Harvey Norman and demanded a refund. Upon referral to the superior employee, I made my case and soon after took my refund to The Good Guys and purchased an LG HDD/DVD Recorder.

I'm pleased to say I've not purchased from Harvey Norman since (this having been at least my third unsatisfactory dealing - me being a slow learner and all).

I also responded to the manufacturer, as a courtesy to let them know I had returned their product and now had a trouble-free LG replacement. I didn't hear back.

But, this was all some time ago, and not the cause of my recent disappointment. I beg your indulgence while I recall my contemporary tale of woe.

In September, Suzy purchased a new digital camera (a Canon Powershot) from Dick Smith Electronics in Morwell. This in itself was interesting, as the Traralgon store had the same model, but such an appalling lack of customer service that she couldn't make the purchase locally. At the same time, she purchased an iPod dock for Jesamine's birthday.

When Jesamine received her gift in November, we found that it wouldn't charge her iPod. By this time, the zoom on the camera had also malfunctioned.

I took both of these items - with receipts - to Dick Smith this week and requested a refund. Of course, I'm again presented with an alleged store policy that after 14 days I couldn't be granted a refund and the items would need to be sent away for repair. I asserted my legal right to the allegedly superior employee to - to no avail. Thusly, I returned to work, printed some appropriate fact sheets from the Consumer Affairs website, and took them back to the store. I was successful in getting a refund for the iPod dock, but not for the camera as it was not a "complete unit". A complete unit, I was advised, includes all packaging and manuals. I know this will come as a shock, but I suspect I've thrown away the vitally important cardboard insert.

Why am I continually astounded by the treatment of customers by so many retail outlets?

The strangest part of the tale is, when given the refund for the iPod dock, the lady asked if I'd like to purchase a different model. I couldn't believe my ears! What aspect of the preceding dealing led her to believe I was the sort of satisfied customer who might like to deal with her again? And, I believe I suggested as such.

Any, I've lodged a complaint with Consumer Affairs, and whilst I can't say whether I'll get refund for the camera - I do know another store I won't be revisiting.

RED QUEEN - H.M. BROWN

2009-09-13T02:11:00.000-07:00

I somehow managed to forget in my previous posts to provide an update on the publishing phenomenon that is H.M. Brown.

I attended the book launch at a quaint bookshop in Warragul a week or so ago. A "quaint" bookshop - for those lacking specific industry knowledge - is like any other bookshop, only smaller.

Anyway, I've never been to a book launch before, so I felt terribly important to be invited.

Yesterday I went to a signing at the Collins bookstore in Traralgon. If I was a real friend and supporter, I would have provided some forewarning to drum up a little business. I thought about that afterwards.

Anyway, it's starting to pop up in newspapers and magazines. I think the verdict in yesterday's Herald Sun was "chilling" - so perhaps there's a learning in that for the publicist to send out review copies in warmer weather!

FOOTBALL RECORD

2009-09-13T01:53:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed that football commentators are able to turn any once inconsequential achievement into a bona fide record using only their mouths, a misplaced sense of achievement, and that bastion of and deceit and misdirection - statistics?

Once upon a time, when the world was far simpler and our goal umpires wore boaters and lab coats, we heard of records for the most goals in a season, the most consecutive wins and the largest winning margin.

Today we hear of the most goals kicked ... against an interstate team ... at the MCG ... in the third quarter ... by a number 5 draft pick ... in his 4th AFL game ... wearing yellow boots ... with a heavily strapped scrotum ... and an aunt name Vera.

I'm sorry Messrs Cometti, Hutchison, Lane, McAvany, Brayshaw and co - these are no longer notable achievements, and whilst I commend what is undoubtedly a stirling level of dedication and committment from your statisticians and researchers, perhaps it's all gone just a little too far.

GETTING ACTIVE IN THE BLOG SPACE

2009-09-04T04:13:00.000-07:00

"Getting active is the blog space" is corporate-speak for "updating my blog".

That's right, I've been to a conference today (or should I say- I've been active in the conference space) and I can't help but walk away feeling a little concerned for the future of humanity. We continue to bind ourselves in allusions and illusions of civilisation and progress, and it all feels so wrong.

Seminars, workshops, conferences - it's a world of genericised language, breakout groups and butchers' paper.

With everyone so active in their chosen "spaces", and I can't help but picture a NASA conference - "We've been very active in the space space this year"

And while I'm venting on corporate speak, and its unceasing strive to take language always to the next level of abstraction (what does human resources convey that personnel didn't?), let me ask - what ever happened to rain? As one active in the water space, I've noticed over the last few years that we can no longer refer to rain, or rainfall, or rainstorms. We now have precipitation, rain events, and significant rain events. Presumably rainfall was far too ambiguous, or didn't leave sufficient wiggle room for political manoeuvring if it turns out that the rainfall didn't really occur.

I'm not sure is you caught the news this week, but our State Parliamentarian with primary accountability in the Water space was temporarily mis-located during an ambulatory endeavour upon some of the State's more significantly elevated and botanically plethoric terrain. Whilst amply provisioned for such an eventuality, his co-habitant paramour expressed some concern following evidence of a significant rainfall event across the geographic locality.

Now isn't that much clearer than saying Minister Holding went missing whilst walking up a mountain and got caught in a storm?

But onto much chirpier matters. Long time readers of my blog ... okay, let's be honest, I have google analytics installed, so I know full well that no-one ever reads this bloody thing ... but anyway, I have previously written about the one I refer to as "The Mysterious H M Brown", and my excitement at knowing a real-life soon-to-be-published author.

Well, walking through KMart last Friday night - what to my wondering eyes did appear upon the shelves ....

I was ever so excited!!!! So I bought a copy. And, turning to the acknowledgments, who's simply adorable little name is there? Why if it isn't my own!

I've long had aspirations of novelling (which is brave new verb for a brave new world), and after many false starts I'm quite convinced that it's bloody difficult. But have no fear, I'm now in print, so bollocks to my own writing, I'll continue to live vicariously through the superior talents of those around me.

And just to make sure this blog post gets ample hits from search engines, thus giving Honey's book the publicity it deserves (did I mention it's a crackingly corkeresque read), let me finish with ...

underpants, backside, front-bottom, rumpy-pumpy, chestnuts, films about men buggering men, dangly bits, free pictures of attractive ladies pretending to get jiggy with other attractive ladies, oily turnips, free pictures of less-attractive ladies genuinely getting jiggy with ladies with boy haircuts and dungarees, free XXX footage of Angela Lansbury in unscreened episodes of Murder She Wrote,
free subscription for nasal delivery technology to make your slow cooker cook even slower, free pictures of some hot tennis player from Western Europe wearing tennis clothing and playing tennis with a tennis racket and tennis BALLS

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER WITH A STENCH MOST FOUL

2009-08-18T04:22:00.000-07:00

Today I travelled from Ringwood to Merrimu for work. I stopped by Subway in Melton for lunch. Having ordered and subsequently received my elongated sandwich of choice (and accompanying oversized biscuit), I took a table in the street - much in the manner of a Billy Joel song. Not an old familiar place, as Mr Joel would have you believe - but you and I were certainly face to face. That is, or course, if you happen to an elderly gent with poor dental hygiene and the overpowering aroma of urine!

From my table, I saw just such a gent glance my way, and being good-natured as I am, I proferred a smile and some form of generic greeting.

And lo did said purveyor of stenches most foul approach me, and commence to enlighten me as to the back story of one Ray Neville - a sixteen year old jockey who rode Rimfire to Victory in the 1948 Melbourne Cup at odds of 100 to 1 in a controversial photo finish.

I fear I can do no justice in describing the odour that this minion of the devil himself secreted.

I was stunned by two thoughts - "Why are telling me this? And why do you not remove your pants before you pee?"

Of course, being the good-natured type I've already described myself as being - I kept my thoughts to myself. I also kept my lunch to myself - which proved far more challenging.

If you'd like to know more about Ray Neville's 1948 cup win astride Rimfire, try this link. You never know when information like this may come in handy.

A MATTER OF SOME GRAVITY

2009-04-16T19:20:00.000-07:00

I was camping at Bright over the Easter period, or "God's Own Country" as I prefer it. Whilst contemplating weighty matters, as my mind is want to do when not otherwise occupied with trivia, I chanced upon a rather unique and groundbreaking theory of gravity. My thinking ran thus:

We experience gravity as a force of attraction between two objects, for example, between an apple hanging precariously above the renowned noggin' of Sir Issac Prince of Newts, and the Earth.
When the fruit is ripe, the gap between it and Earth closes with scant regard for the Newtonian cranium in the breach.
We assume that the apple is falling to the Earth, but couldn't it just as correctly be inferred that the Earth is moving up to meet the apple?
If the Earth is round, which I understand to be the contemporary consensus on the matter, and if apples fall to Earth on all continents, which I'm prepared to concede despite my limited experience in both travel and horticulture, then the success of the Earth's unending quest for apples can only be explained by an expansion outwards in all directions - much like an inflating balloon (but not at all like a sponge).
Of course, if the Earth were expanding, we'd know about - and when I say we, I mean people who know about stuff like that.
But, if we were expanding at the same rate, and so were our tools of measurement, then we wouldn't be aware of the expansion.
Furthermore, the expansion is not just in the objects, but in the fabric of the Universe itself - so the spaces between objects are also expanding. This helps stop a really big Earth from crashing into the really big sun - which would be less than a boon for the theory.
Then I thought - but hang on! If the apple is attached to a tree which is being pushed outward by the expansion of the Earth, then the apple is moving outward with that same momentum, and will continue to do so in accordance with the rules of motion as described by the apple-addled Mr Newton. The apple would therefore not meet with the Earth unless acted upon by some other force.
Aha! But if the Universe is expanding at an accelerating rate, then the apple will keep moving at the momentum it had at the point of release, but the Earth approaches it faster and faster and faster and faster and then not so much. And we know that objects fall to Earth at an accelerating rate, so at this juncture the theory is fully intact.
At about this point I went public with the theory, to my dad, who looked a bit confused and expressed his own theory that I was talking absolute bollocks.
No to be deterred, I went to bed to mull further and ponder my prospects for a Nobel prize.
Then I realised that if the fabric of the Universe is expanding, then the space between the apple and the Earth will also be preserved.
And thus the theory died.

Subsequently I Googled the theory, only to discover that there have been many fools before me, and that my theory was neither unique, nor groundbreaking.

I now suspect gravity to be the action invisible lassos strung about us by Amazon women in alluring outfits. Curiously much more difficult to disprove.

By the way, I caught 8 lovely trout whilst away, and threw a few others back.

I also bought 22 books, which are already in the database.

I'm currently reading "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court". Very enjoyable so far.

Yesterday afternoon I saw "The Boat That Rocked", and then went to the Zappa Plays Zappa concert in St Kilda. It was most assuredly a display of most venerable istrumental virtuosity, such as is rarley offered for observance. It was a concert that I didn't want to end - but which nonetheless did end, and so I went home to bed.

A CALL OUT TO ALL NON-INDIGENOUS AUSTRALIANS - ARE YOU IMMORTAL?

2009-01-29T13:36:00.000-08:00

Well, it has finally happened. My gob has been well and truly smacked. My foundation is dumb. There is gast in my flabber, and my oxen are flumm.

Driving to work this morning, I heard on the local ABC radio that the mortality rate for Australia's Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities is 3 times the national average.

Now, if I assume that these folk are ALL mortal (which I'd have thought a fair assumption) then it follows that something more than 2 thirds of non-indigenous Australians are immortal!!!!!

How the flipping-billy-o did this little nugget slip by me for 37 years?

So don't slip into that mid-life crises just yet my fine friends. Chances are you've only lived an infintely small percentage of your eternal life.

Incidentally, I returned to the plastic surface Wednesday night for another inddor soccer win. Unfortunately I "done" my ankle yet again early in the game, and it's currently swollen and bruised (again). On a poisitive note, not only did I manage to score a goal before the injury, but I moved into goals for the second half of the game and saved two penalties! No, I don't think you're quite grasping the magnitude of this. Remember that it's really hard to save a penalty. And remember also that I lack co-ordination, but have a finely honed sense of danger and the only reflex I possess is the "flinch". This is truly "big news". Possibly bigger than the news that two of your three best friends are immortal

BREAKING NEWS!!!!!

2008-12-03T04:21:00.001-08:00

I can hardly believe that it's been so long. And you know what? I blame Facebook! And in particular, I blame those annoylingly addictive games like Tetris and Bowling that come along with Facebook. "But hang on just one moment" I hear you say. "Being addicted to Facebook is hardly the breaking news to be expected upon reading the post title. I certainly hope you're not using false pretences to attract readers to your pissant little blog".

Well, dear reader - fear not, for I am in fact most deliciously furnished with such breakful newsings as would shake to the very core, in a rather delightful and cheeky manner, even the most indolent attendant to the dubious malodourous musings that eruct from the illimitable company of purveyors of such bosh.

My news, having broken of such propinquity, relates to none other than that bastion of promise and spirit - the Mysterious HM Brown.

If you know not of whom I speak, get ye to the blog archives and read the bloody things!

HM Brown, In whose reflected glow I am proud to bask, has successfully contracted with Penguin for the publification of her first book!!!! Ta Daah! (It's not called Ta Daah, that's to indicate a musical sting such as befits such a revelation. Last I saw, the title was "Red Queen", possibly preceeded by the definite article "The", though I can't recall)

I don't know when it'll be on shelves, or even which shelves it will be on. I don't know where on any shelves it will be placed, nor who will be putting them there - though I'm pretty sure they won't be putting themselves on shelves. Needless to say, I'm bloody excited and proud to have shared a special connection with "the Author". (And when I say special connection, I'm talking 200amp jumper leads - which means something to some, and nothing to most!!!)

By the way, did I mention we just lost soccer 19-3? Probably best I don't.

Nighty night my little pigeons XXX

FOB DELIVERS 16-1 DRUBBING - BUT COULD THIS BE A TACTICAL MISTAKE?

2008-10-08T03:55:00.000-07:00

After winning the grand final last season, we returned tonight to the hallowed plastic for the commencement of a new season. And didn't we what?

16-1 against the Electric Sheep. We creamed 'em.

But now I'm a little worried. Could this have been a big tactical mistake? There's always a spot of grading occurs with the early season games. Maybe the Electric Sheep were very cleverly tanking to ensure a place in a lower division. Maybe we'll end up in Division 1 and then keep coming second for the rest of the season.

Anyway, we got our picture in the LV Express last week. That's pretty cool for me, who at school was voted "most likely to suffer an embarassing injury after become entangled in his own limbs whilst attempting the macarena".

Should I provide a reading update? I'll take your silence as acquiescence.

It's been so long that I can't recall everything I've read, but I can highly recommend Bill Bryson to anyone who hasn't yet discovered this genius of humourous travel writing. In particular "Notes from a Small Island", which can be best summed up by Mike Whitney, who, if he read it, would most assuredly proclaim "it's a corker".

I recently read R.L. Stevenson's "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde". This was interesting in just how far removed it is from the image that is reinforced through pop culture references and the like.

I have also read "Bonfire of the Vanities" by Tom Wolfe. This was a loaner, and a really good narrative.

I've read heaps more, but that'll have to do for now.

VANUATU - THE GREAT AUSTRALIAN SUBURBAN BACKYARD

2008-08-16T04:57:00.000-07:00

I'm a bad blogger, and must be punished!!! It's been another month, and even worse, this post has been sitting in draft for much of that time.

We even won the soccer grand final and I didn't post!

I've read a great many books and seen quite a respectable number of movies - yet no post!

What of those heady times in my blogging infancy when I'd post three entries in a single night?

I have a confession to make. I'm one of the vast, ever increasing number of young men (that's right YOUNG!!!) who are only ever 20mg of anti-depressant chemical away from writing some really bad folk music. Moreover, whilst on the cruise I threw caution to the wind - of which there was plenty and didn't it just get that boat rockin' to such an extent that none would come knockin' - and stopped taking my happy pills.

Yes. Very silly of me. As if returning from a cruise isn't depressing enough already. This is like adding insult to injury, when the injury is wound that you're rubbing salt into. It probably explains why I cried all the way through Mama Mia - though it's equally likely that was just Peirce Brosnan's singing.

Anyway, I did promise a somewhat more detailed blog about our recent cruise. To whom did I promise? The people who read my last blog entry. Did anyone read that entry? Not really. So why am I bothering to follow through on a commitment made to no-one and at no-one's request? I have no idea.

The first stop on our cruise was Vanuatu - specifically Port Vila. This was my third visit to Port Vila - it being a staple for P&O. It's one of the few South Pacific ports with a harbour capable of receiving a cruise liner, whilst maintaining the appearance of being incapable of receiving a postcard.

I recall on a previous visit being greeted on the dock by natives in traditional costume. Whilst I didn't see this on our recent visit, the traditional male costume of Vanuatu still warrants comment. Imagine, if you will, an oversize drinking straw, about 2 inches in diameter, a foot or so long, and made from some organic grassy material. If you prefer, imagine a regular sized drinking straw, and a very small person, the illusion works either way!

The straw is placed over the penis, folded upward, and tucked under a similarly grassy belt wrapped around the waist - and there you have it - the nubang - and doesn't the title work ever so well!

Whilst I'm no naturalist, I do find it a peculiar trait of human development that we've become so uncomfortable with nudity that someone thought up indecent exposure as a crime. I can assure you, if Jane Goodall were tell her little chimpy friends that if they were to get on with evolving, not only would they invent clothes (which is altogether quite practical, particularly if you lose hair at the same time as finding new ways to fuck with the ozone layer), but that they'd then go on to decide that NOT wearing clothes was intolerable.

Anyway, what I find particularly odd about the nubang, is that it covers the penis whilst leaving the scrotum on display. Now, to some this may seem like splitting hairs, but does this suggest that culturally they find the penis more unsavoury than the scrotum? Personally, I think to describe the scrotum as looking like an appendage of left-over elbow skin is putting it kindly. With the underside of the tongue already tucked neatly away inside the mouth, I'd have though the next priority for cover should be the scrotum. Sure, deal with the penis as well, but get the scrotum covered first.

Now, at this point, allow me to pause and reflect on a recent discovery vis a vis my blog and the finding thereof. I have a code snippet installed which allows the good people at google to monitor how people find my blog - e.g. referrals from Lee's blog, or from Facebook. When someone stumbles across my blog as a result of a google search, the report tells me the search terms used. Recently, I discovered that someone had been directed to my blog after searching for: "films about men getting buggered men". I am reminded of this as I read back over the preceding paragraph and wonder how scrotum, penis, appendage and tongue may be creatively combined into a new and exciting search term.

So anyway, I didn't see any nubang-clad natives, but was greeted by a "traditional" Vanuatu band playing on the dock. And by traditional, I mean anything but. Still, all traditions must have a beginning, and I'll not be a slave to nostalgia, so let the tradition begin with a band comprising the terminally dentally challenged, with more guitars than strings, and playing such traditional Melanesian fare as Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport, and well, pretty much that one over and over ... and over ... and over.

Thus are we welcomed to the market which is set up on the dock whenever a ship comes in. The market offers the weary traveller many an opportunity to relax under the expert hands of the local hair-braiders - and to my mind too few passengers really stop to think through whether this is their best option. I can assure you, no matter how thick and lustrous you may think your hair to be,
braiding will surely cure you of that misapprehension. Some girls can pull it off, a small few will actually come out the other end for the better - but I'm yet to see a guy on a cruise with braided hair who doesn't look prematurely bald and frankly more than a little silly. Which is why I encourage it wholeheartedly.

The market also sells a range of allegedly traditional weaponry, which are very popular amongst tourists of Connick's ilk. The claim that these could be traditional, or even that they are weapons, is easily discredited by the evidence of a nation of people who still exist. If these were indeed their means of hunting and defence, these people would starve, or worse still could be defeated by an invading force armed with balloons on strings - and there would be no market, no Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport, and, saddest of all, no nubangs. By comparison, the Swiss army present an inpenetrable miltary presence with their tiny yet versatile knives, and Captain Feathersword with his nicky-nocky-noo-ing could strike fear into the hearts of an entire nation (or at least tickle their exposed testicles).

The reality of Vanuatu is that is has very little of a cultural heritage of the type that we tourists can engage with. There is a culture of very basic tribal life, and even of cannibalism. Getting by as they did with the barest of implements and facilities, there is very little "take-home" culture for the western tourist to trade for. Much like the imported culture, the artifacts are similarly imported, and mostly from the same sources as supply the Australian discount chains. The biggest cultural discovery of the recent era for Vanuatu has undoubtedly been the permanent black marker. Sure, the $15 ukulele you can by from the Warehouse in any Australian town looks much like the $15 ukulele in the Port Vila market - and both were made in China - but in Australia they don't have "Port Vila - Vanuatu" written on the body in permanent black marker. And that pretty much sums up the local market. There is very little gennuine local product - but plenty of locally texta'd product.

I hereby proclaim Vanuatu "The Land of The Long Black Sharpie."

Beyond the market, you will find that every local with access to a working automobile (and don't let looks deceive, with a good downhill run many of these cars actually move) will be soliciting for your patronage to drive you about, and with minimal regard for road safety by any interpretation of the term.

Moving beyond the dock, the most prominent feature of the country is disorganisation. Port Vila is the shipping port, and yet has no container facilities. Shipping containers are scattered haphazardly along the soft shoulder of the road between the the town and the dock. The town is littered with half built structures, the weathering making clear that many of these have been half-finished for many years. And it is for this reason that I dub it the great Australian suburban backyard. Can any Australian male genuinely support a claim of never having commenced a backyard project only to, some years later, finish it hurriedly, or remove it, once the For Sale sign appears in the front yard.

Despite having been here before, and knowing full well that there is far greater value to be obtained in using the service of local drivers than there is in the organised tours, we booked on a tour of the local botanical gardens. The local botanical gardens have little to maintain the attention of a fast-paced generation W'er (didn't we come before Gen X?). Certainly not enough to occupy the period of time between being dropped off by the bus and the bus returning to pick us up. Actually, this is not entirely true. For the terminally dull and anal retentive, such as I, there was more than enough reading material attached to tomato stakes around the gardens to occupy a quite absurdly tedious number of hours. However, we were constantly moved by the tour guide to the next display, casting the illusion of a fast-paced and exciting tour. Imagine my surprise, after being rushed along to find that we had an hour or so to sit around in the heat before our bus returned.

The gardens did contain some iguanas, bats, a python (with its mouth sticky-taped shut - and I'm not sure whether this was for safety reasons, or if perhaps it was taped shut by a nubang salesman because it keeped telling people to eat from the fruit of the tree in middle of the garden, after which they'd rush out and buy some pants), and a coconut crab.

There is on the tour a kava hut, and our guide described the wonders of this hallucinogenic, which is ground from the root of a local plant and which has the look and taste of mud. (to be read in Homer Simpson voice) Hmmmm muuud. A cultural oddity is the pride with which they hold their traditional vice. I'm not entirely convinced that kava is doing the community a world of good, and I wonder if there may be a few more projects actually getting finished around the place if they weren't so keen on maintaining this tradition.

Presenting kava, and the drinking thereof, as a tourist attraction, is a bit like Melbourne suddenly taking pride in its homeless winos. "And to your right you'll see a man with wild hair shouting incoherently. You can see from the front of his pants that he's been urinating, which is a bit of a traditional for those partaking of the local 'plonk'."

In addition to the botanical gardens tour, I parasailed from the back of a boat - which was great (last time I abseiled down the cascape waterfalls).

Anyway, I think I've written enough to assuage my guilt for the time being. I promise I'll try to be a better blogger.

BY REQUEST ...

2008-08-05T05:31:00.001-07:00

Before I get to detailed blogging about our recent cruise - which shall await the sorting of over 2,000 photos ... hang on ... I'll give the overview now, then get to the details/photos/videos in a later post.

We left home at 4:20am on Friday two weeks ago (I'm on leave - surely you don't think I know what day it is).
Drove to Sydney and spent the night with Donna and George.
Boarded the ship.
Party party party!!!!!
Two weeks and five islands later we got back to Sydney, spent another night with Donna and George, drove to Lakes, spent a night in our apartment there, and arrived back in Traralgon on Tuesday.

I didn't miss a day in the gym on the ship - which I'm quite proud of. I also didn't miss a buffet breakfast, 3 course lunch, scones with jam and cream for afternoon tea, or four course dinner. So, for those who've been waiting some years for the grand reveal of my abs ... keep waiting kids.

Connick spent much of the cruise in the cabin watching movies.

I postulated and subsequently disproved the theory that too much karaoke is never enough.

Highlight of the trip (for me) - singing with Jesse Banez, piano player extraordinaire, who had also been on our last two cruises. In my mind everyone on the cruise wanted to hear me sing every time a microphone was left unattended. That audible groan you may have heard all the way from Australia every time I made for the stage was just the Pacific Dawn battling some pretty fearsome weather (and there was a bit of that too!).

But lo, it ended all to quickly, so if anyone has an unused prescription for any manner of anti-depressant medication - send it to me ASAP. I'll be needing to increase my dosage substantially until the next cruise. I hereby postulate that, when on land, too much medication is never enough.

I did check with the Purser's desk (or Percy's desk, as Jesamine prefers) on the last night for any empty cabins going cheap on the following cruise - but the boat is just too damn popular.

Met some great people, drank too much (mostly against my better judgement and at the expense of the aforementioned great people), and enjoyed every second. I shall now spend the remainder of my leave sitting by the phone awaiting a call from P&O with a great offer to return.

Further details and photos shall follow in due course - but for now, back to the matter at hand.

I have made a commitment to do a gig at the Star Bar in Traralgon in September - can't recall the date, but I think it'll be the Sunday after the AFL Grand Final. I'll be supporting the Beer House Dogs (at least I think that's what they're called). Mike, who plays guitar with the band, is a fellow FOB United team member, and this may be his last gig before he returns to the land of the long white cloud.

Anyhoo - given that I'm no longer in a band, and haven't played for quite some time (excluding quite copious servings of Karaoke on the Pacific Dawn), I have no idea what to play. So, If you can make it to the gig, then how about leaving me a comment with a request, and I'll attempt to play it for you. The quality of my performance shall be entirely at my own discretion, and I make no warrants in that regard. In fact, I don't even promise to do my best - just to do.

So leave me a request - get to the Star Bar on the afternoon of the Sunday after grand final day (or at such other time as I subsequently advise), and join me for all the fun of the fair - but without the fair ... and with less fun.

I'M ON LEAVE!!!

2008-07-17T21:33:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was my last day work - and I'm now on leave for 8 whole weeks. How jealous are you?

Hmm ...

Thought so!

I think my brain actually commenced leave a day early. I had a couple of meetings in Werribee on Friday, but when I got there I went to get my bag out of the car - and it weren't there. I'd left all the tools of my trade at home. Of course that sort of thing isn't really going to stress my on my last day.

On the way home I dropped in Chadstone and spent some time Borders (bookstore) and also saw Hancock at the cinema. What a great way to start leave.

I decided to learn calculus while I'm on leave (as well as Kung Fu), so I purchased a caculus book at Borders. I did study some caculus in year 11, but I don't remember much about it, so it's jolly well time I learnt.

Hancock was quite good by the way. It perhaps wasn't my first choice, but I really enjoyed it. There's a bit more to the plot than is given away in the trailer - which is a bit unusual these days.

We won soccer 14-2 this week. Go FOB U!

I've started my Kung Fu training, which firstly invoved standing rather uncomfortably (and preferably in bad fashion) for a long period of time.

So far I can do it for a short period of time.

It is currently Friday afternoon, and we're pretty well packed for our cruise. The plan is that we'll get up early tomorrow morning - say, 4am - and drive to Sydney. We'll stay with friends in Sydney Saturday night, then board the ship Sunday afternoon.

This is third cruise for Suzy and I, but the first with the kids.

And the best thing is, I have a legitimate excuse for letting the blog got stale for two weeks.

Till me return ...

SOCCER, STORIES AND SLOW COOKING

2008-07-09T05:25:00.000-07:00

Can it already be a week since I last posted? It sure doesn't feel like it, but I guess blogger doesn't lie.

Having just returned from soccer, I can report a 3 goal victory. Yay for us!!! I've even made it onto the goal kicking ladder, which, and those who've seen me in action will know, can only be put down to them having a reeeaaaally loooooong ladder.

This win comes after a two goal loss last week against the top side.

Those who read Lee's blog (and let's face, I don't have any friends of my own) will know of the weekends Puerto Rico fest. Being somewhat anti-social and keen not to risk my unbeaten (1-game) winning streak, I raided the Scott's bookcase and read two books:

Hell Island by Matthew Reilly
Cracking the DaVinci Code by Simon Cox

I wouldn't recommend you waste your time with either of these. They're both cheap grabs with no substance. Still though, I didn't lose any games of Puerto Rico while I was reading these.

I also started reading a book called "Celebration of the senses" by Eric Rolls, which Lee had borrowed from Clinton and Jennifer, and which I have now borrowed to finish reading.

I have also just read "Playing Beattie Bow" by Ruth Park. This is a childrens book, but I bought it second hand because I felt that I'd missed something important in this. I had heard of this book, and it seemed that all the other kids at school knew about it. Now that I'm all growed up, no seems to have heard of it, so perhaps it was just my imagination. Anyway, it's about a girl who accidentally travels back in time, and it's quite readable for an adult - and would be highly recommended for an older child or younger teenager.

I cooked another batch of curry in the slow cooker on Monday, this tim using beef instead of lamb (because that's what we had in the fridge). I also made up the vegetable curry and we cooked them in the slow cooker together.

What? Recipes? Okay then. Here they are.

LAMB CURRY
(from 100 great ways to use slow cookers & crockpots, by Simon & Alison Holst)

2 Tbsp Oil
1 onion (sliced)
2 cloves garlic
2 Tbsp ginger (grated)
1-1.2kg lamb (cubed)
1 Tbsp curry powder
1 x 5cm cinnamon stick
4 cardamom pods (squashed)
6 cloves (whole)
800g diced tomatoes
2 Tbsp tomato paste
2 Tbsp honey
2 bay leaves

Cook the onion, garlic and ginger in 1 Tbsp oil, and add to the slow cooker.
Lightly brown the lamb in 1 Tbsp oil, then add curry powder, cinnamon, cardamoms and cloves - and cook for one minute.
Bang everything in the slow cooker on low for 8-10 hours.

The recipe also calls for 1 tsp fenugreek seeds, which I'm yet to find.

VEGETABLE CURRY
(based on a recipe from www.gourmetindian.info)

Paste:
3 green chillies
1 red chillie
1/2 tsp tumeric powder
1 inch ginger
a sprinkle of granulated garlic
1 tsp cummin seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds

Crush all this to buggery with a mortar and pestle.

Other stuff:
3-4 chopped potatoes
a similar volume of chopped pumpkin
a dozen or so beans
some chopped carrot
2 chopped tomatoes
2 chopped onions
1 green capsicum
2 Tbsp oil
2 Tbsp lemon juice

Method one:
Brown onion in the oil, then add and tomatoes and cook for 5 minutes.
Add the paste, stir, and cook for another two minutes
Add the vegetables, 2 cups of water, and cook till you've cleaned up the kitchen.
Add the lemon juice and simmer for a bit.

Method two:
Brown onion in the oil, then put the whole shebang in the slow cooker for 8 hours or so, preferably with the lamb curry and you'll have flavours up the yin yang!!!

NAAN BREAD
(based on a recipe from www.gourmetindian.info)

3 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup yoghurt
1 egg
1/4 cup butter
3 tsp sugar
3/4 cup water
1 2/3 Tbsp dried yeast

Mix yeast and 1 tsp sugar into 5 Tbsp water and stir well.
If the surface bubbles after 10 minutes, you're right to go. If not, your yeast may have gone to yeast heaven, and you'll need to get yourself to a yeastery to replenish stocks.
Add the rest of the ingredients, sans flour, and stir the bejeezus out of it. Then add the flour and mix it and knead it and stuff till you've got a dough that's just so damned doughy you want to push your face into it.
Warm a bowl, butter it (inside, not out, you idiot) put the dough in it. Cover it with cloth, and keep it somewhere warm for about 40 minutes - by which time it should be considerably more voluminous than you remember.
Make 8 equal balls from the dough, and then flatten them from the centre out so that the edges remain a little thicker than the middle. Grab each one frm the edge between your thumb and forefinger and hang it so that it stretches into a tear drop. Bake it for about 10 mins at 230 degrees.

Don't forget to eat it!

Only two days of work left before I take 8 weeks leave. Woohoo!!!!

Blogging is HARD WORK!!!

2008-07-01T23:22:00.000-07:00

I just realised that it's soccer night again - and I haven't blogged since some-time prior to last weeks game - which incidentally we lost. This means, of course, that I've done nothing worth writing about - which won't stop me writing about it anyway.

MOVIES

2 movies to report.

The Incredible Hulk.
I took Connick to see this. It's okay - but not great. I still say Iron Man is the best of the Marvel superhero movies. I actually preferred the first Hulk - because it was more "cartoony".

Kung Fu Panda.
I took both the kids to see this on Sunday night. I hadn't been all that keen based on the previews - but Danny assured me it was LOL funny, if not ROFLPIP funny!

I wouldn't go that far - but I did enjoy it. It's VERY Jack Black.

It's also ironic that I saw this film, as I have recently developed something of an obsession with Kung Fu. Well, ironic in an Alanis Morissette sort of way.

Connick went to his first Karate lesson recently - and I decided I might like to take lessons as well. Which then led me to researching Martial Arts, and deciding that I'd really like to study Kung Fu. Unfortunately there's no one local providing Kung Fu training, so I ordered some books from Amazon.

I can definitely feel a new hobby coming on!!!

BOOKS

Midwich Cuckoos - John Wyndham

I loved this one - definitely one of his best. It's King-esque, but far more streamlined.

Dirt Music - Tim Winton

I've been meaning to read Tim Winton for some time - and finally borrowed this one from Many and Dave .... the Trumpets.

This is an excellent book. I know this to be true because the cover has stickers telling me about the various awards it won. I also know this to be true because I read it.

It's a style of book that I've not read much of - in fact the most similar author I can recall reading is the mysterious H.M.Brown - who you may remember from such memorable blog posts as ... well ... some of my earlier ones.

It's a book primarily about people, rather than happenings.

Literary folk would probably call it a "character study".

Movie folk would probably call it "a terrible investment".

I'd call it " a really good about about people".

The World Set Free - H.G. Wells

This is interesting, as it traces the events following the harnessing of atomic power, and the developmnent and aerial deployment of atomic bombs. Why is this interesting? Because the book was published in 1914, and Ernest Rutherford did not "split" an atom for the first time until 1919, and the Manhattan Project which developed the first atomic weapons did not commence until 1941.

Nontheless, intersting though it may be in its foresight, it's just not a great book. It's okay, but if you, as I, have more books to read than lifetime left in which to read them, you can probably pass this one over.

I only finished this one last night, so I haven't started another one yet.

ADVENTURES IN SLOW COOKING

Suzy bought a slow cooker recently, so last Saturday I slow cooked a lamb curry (and somewhat less slowly cooked a vegetable curry). Curry was followed by Puerto Rico with the Scotts and Roddas. Not for me though - I had to slip off to bed to nip an emerging migraine in the bud.

I can see the slow cooker opening up a new world in culinary delights. And it's already got me thinking about my next great investion ... the even slower cooker!!!!

That will have to do for now - but I shall endeavour in future to be both less tardy and more interesting.

Confession

2008-06-14T04:12:00.000-07:00

Forgive me blog for I have sinned. It has been 19 days since my last post.

Of course, on a more positive note, it has been 19 days since my last post!

I can't even remember all the swell things that have happened to me in that time - but let me try........................

.......Nope. Nothing springs to mind. I guess I'll just give you the same old updates of books and movies.

What have I read of late? Well, I'm glad you asked.

I think I'd started on "The Kraken Wakes" by John Wyndham as at last post. It was good.

Honestly, that's all I can come up with. It's not that I didn't enjoy the book, I just can't seem to be bothered with the whole blog post thing. But, it's been 19 days, and I'm no quitter, just a massive procrastinator and put-er-off-er-er.

I also read a book called "Why the toast always lands butter side down - The science of Murphy's Law" by Richard Robinson. This was reasonably interesting - though premised upon something of a misconception about Murphy's Law itself.

I read a very good book called "White Hotel" by D.M. Thomas. This was a loaner (thanks Clinton and Jennifer), and is an exceptional book. Very unpredictable and well-written. I cannot recommend it highly enough. Highly enough for what I don't know. If I did know, I still doubt that I'd be up to the task - because I really can't be bothered.

I read Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut Jnr. This was good, but not his best. Again, I wouldn't know how highly to recommend it, so won't bother.

I'm currently reading "The Midwich Cuckoos" by John Wyndham. This is shaping up to be one of his best, along with "Day of The Triffids". It's got a very Stephen King feel to it. This one was filmed as "Village of the Damned", which I've never seen (and so am probably not well placed to recommend to an appropriate altitude).

Last weekend we went the football with the Scotts and the Trumpets (as we call them), to see Hawthorn defeat Essendon at the Telstra dome. First AFL match for our kids (and only about the 5th for me). Connick didn't enjoy it much, and not only because he's a bombers fan - he found the crowd too noisy (which is the pot calling the kettle black). Jesamine loved it, and we're already making plans to see Collingwood and Footscray (as I still call them) next weekend.

Oohh. I forgot to mention. I finally won a game of Puerto Rico before the footy. Yay for me.

We stayed over in Melbourne (well, Box Hill really) and went to the movies the next day to see Prince Caspian.

BORING!!!!

Suzy and I left half way through and snuck into another cinema to see Sex & the City. I didn't think much of that either. So after 10 minutes I found myself a comfortable couch and lay down and read a book until I fell asleep.

Soccer Update!!!!

I think since the last update we've had a forfeit (for the first time ever we just couldn't pull a team together) and a win. My knee has been fairly sore since last Wednesday. I went to the hospital last Friday on the way home from work, but the Dr thinks it's just a slightly torn tendon and should heal itself.

On account of the knee, I sat out this week, and ended up going out to Inferno (nighclub) to see Irwin Thomas (whom you may recall as Jack Jones of Southern Sons), Tania Doko (of Bachelor Girl), Jon Stevens (of Noiseworks, and some really crap reality TV show) and Ian Moss (of Cold Chisel).

Suzy and I used to drive to Melbourne to see Jack when we was a-courtin'. His voice is unbelievable. It was great back in the Southern Sons days, but that doesn't even compare to the way he sings now. Of course, if I wanted to be really cynical, which I so often do, I'd suggest he's gone from impersonating John Farnham to impersonating Jeff Buckley. I don't know how highly it would be appropriate to commend him, but I'm imagining pretty high, and I'm by no means a tall chap.

I missed Jon Stevens, but didn't miss him - if you get my drift. He's cuter than the others, and does have a great rock voice, but really he could be any rock singer wearing a tight t-shirt in any pub across Australia.

Ian Moss was sensational. I was not a Cold Chisel fan during the 80s. I thought they were low-brow bogan rock. Which it quite ironic considering I spent part of the 80s listening to Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden - go figure.

As it happens, I was mowing the lawn last weekend on the ride-on - and had a lot of Cold Chisel popping up on the iPod. At this stage I didn't know I'd be going to see Mossy on Wednesday, but I was realising what great songs Cold Chisel had, and how talented they were. Still doesn't mean I want to hear pissed guys in pubs shouting along to their songs though and suggesting there's some manner of aqua-railway from Sydney to Hong Kong.

Anyway, I'm told that we had a draw in soccer that night.

Suzy went up to Lakes Entrance on Thursday night to have a scapping weekend in our apartment. Unfortunately she's not been well so has hardly left the bed so far. Which is better than Lee, who was to go but has also been unwell and didn't even get there (and with Brian at home to tend to her every need, who can blame her!).

I straightened our chookhouse today, with a little help from the kids. I think the chookhouse deserves a blog entry of its own at some point, but to summarise, I started building this over a year ago (it could even be two years). It's been bloody expensive, and after my work rate had declined considerably and it was becoming a source of some humiliation, a large gum tree fell on it. So, for some time it was remained unfinished and looking like the Ettamogah Chook House. Anyway, it's now standing straight again, and I really should finish it so that the chooks have somewhere safe to live while we're on our cruise in July.

Before I sign off, let me share with you a very funny video that someone sent me on facebook:

Oh, I almost forgot. I got "tagged". I can't remember what the deal was, but Lee tagged me and now if I don't tell you 7 random facts about myself, I'll .... um .... well I'm not really sure there was much to compel me to be quite honest. And if there was, it would surely be cyber-bullying and Today-Tonight would be on to like a thing that gets onto other things quite rapidly ... on that other thing.

I'm also supposed to tag other people. "Friends" I think they're called. Sorry. Don't have any. Fuck off.

7 Random Facts about me:
5 - I think I can dance.
3 - I used to be a boy.
6 - I think "chestnuts" could be a very funny word for breasts, and so spend much of December sniggering.
7 - I have a "thing" about hairs growing in my ears and nose, and somehow think that I look better sitting around with a pair of tweezers up my nose than with even the smallest follicle.
2 - I was always good at maths - but I'm really bad with numbers.
4 - I don't believe life has any meaning.
1 - Usually with things like this I make up answers for a cheap laugh - but not this time!

Goodnight all you scrunchy-munchkins!

I ARE SQUARED

2008-05-26T03:33:00.000-07:00

Before I commence with my mathematical meanderings, let me firstly confess to a most dismal loss in soccer last week. I think the score was 14-2 or something along those lines. And while I'm about it, Jesamine's Gems lost on Saturday, as did Suzy's Gems on Thursday.

Now, on to my personal challenge.

It seems from my admittedly cursory research that there is no intuitive mathematical formula from which to calculate Pi. By intuitive, I mean a formula of which, with a basic grasp of logic, you can understand the why-for. For example, the formula for the area of a square, length by width, can be understood by picturing a grid of 1-unit by 1-unit squares filling the area. I had anticipated some similarly logical reasoning would lie behind a formula for calculating Pi - and I was sadly mistaken.

'Twould appear that for some time Pi was only known by measurement. If you draw a large enough circle and measure the circumference and the diameter accurately enough, you can determine Pi to, well, around 3-4 decimal places. Not much really is it - but for most people using pencil and paper a 1 meter diameter circle and a 1 millimetre is about the practical limit, so that's a 3 decimal place limit.

Wikipedia tells me that with a circle the size of the observable universe, and a measurement precision of 1 hydrogen atom - you can still only calculate Pi to 39 decimal places. And in case you're not aware, the observable universe is very large, and a hydrogen atom considerably less so. If you imagine a teapot, you couldn't fit the observable universe in it - whereas you could easily fit two hydrogen atoms within a teacup - and still have room for milk and sugar.

I just did a quick calculation, and by my reconing, if a hydrogen atom is around 25 picametres, and the obervable universe is around 1000 billion trillion kms, then I can't see how you'd get beyond 38 decimals.

Anyway, so it seems that calculating Pi was all about drawing circles until people started stumbling across mathematical series that approach Pi. Still, these are non-intuitive, but they do work.

For example, the series (4/1)-(4/3)+(4/5)-(4/7)+(4/9) .... where the denominator increase by 2 in each term, converges towards Pi ... very slowly. You get up to (4/13) before it even gets to "3", and you're up to (4/49) before you've found Pi to one decimal place. At (4/1017), which is all that I could do using all the columns in Excel with two terms per column, I still hadn't resolved Pi to 2 decimal places.

Whe I first read about this, I thought, if that's the way it works, how do people know how many places they've calculated Pi to? You've got a raft of decimals after each result, but how do you know which ones are right?

Then I thought to myself, obviously you keep adding terms until a decimal stops changing. But they don't change with each calculation. For the first six terms you'd be convinced that Pi = 2 point something. For the next 18 terms you'd think the first decimal is 0.

So, at the moment I remain a little confused. But by gosh by golly hasn't this been educational. I shall continue my investigations a little further.

Toodle-oo

THE ENDS OF MANY ERAS

2008-05-18T04:20:00.000-07:00

The FOB United dream run has come to an end. We went down by 1 goal last Wednesday.

The Gems nightmare run has also come to an end. To clarify, this is Suzy's Thursday night netball, not Jesamine's Saturday morning netball - both teams are called the Gems. Two whole seasons without a win, and finally they won 29-23. Better than Jesamine's Gems on Saturday, who lost 23-3.

The era of Jesamine not having a blog has also come to an end. Might I suggest you make your virtual way to Fabulous Jesamine 3 to check it out.

The era of the kids not both doing Auskick on a Sunday morning has come to an end - as has the era of me sleeping in on a Sunday.

One era that hasn't come to an end is me losing at Puerto Rico. We has another Puerto Rico night with Lee and Brian on Friday night, but I lost again. I did roll the highest number to start the game again though - which is rather curiously emerging as quite a hidden talent of mine.

BOOK UPDATE

I have finished Billy Bathgate. It was a struggle at the beginning, because the first full-stop didn't appear until half-way down the first page. I don't mind writers taking liberties with grammar - broken sentences are often a great way to establish tempo. In this case I found the sentence structure was often detracting from the story.

This comes from the perspective of an auditory reader - meaning that I hear the words in my head (and sometimes in the voice of Fred Flintstone - which is a whole other issue). The writing may serve very well for people who "process" written information in other ways.

Billy Bathgate is a story of a young boy becoming a gangster. I know that I saw the movie many years ago - but I can remember nothing of it.

Anyway, I'd call it a good book, even a very good book - but not a great book.

Since then I read Chocky, by John Wyndham. I love John Wyndham's writing - and I'm always amazed at just how much story he's able to build into pretty short books, and without them feeling dense.

Chocky is a voice within the head of a young boy, and it's hard to say much more without spoiling the plot. I'd have to say I hate the name though.

I'm now onto another John Wyndham - The Kraken Wakes.

THE PI CHALLENGE

I'm somewhat enamoured with the number Pi (3.14 etc). I even have the Pi symbol on the back of my soccer shirt.

Most people know that Pi is believed to have an infinite number of decimal places, with no repetition. What I've never understood, however, is how people go about calculating Pi to a given precision. So, I've decided to find out. Call it my personal challenge. I'll blog about the answer when I find it.

P.S.

I can't remember if I mentioned, but we sold that kids play set they I spent so long assembling a few weeks back. We also sold the kids old swing set to someone else who called about the ad in the paper after it was sold.

UNDEFEATED!!!!!!! (And a movie review)

2008-05-07T05:23:00.001-07:00

That's right - you heard right.

FOB United have jolly-well done it again. 4 wins. No losses.

From one all at half time, we finished up winning by 8-1.

Egad!!!!

Also forgot to mention in my recent updates that we saw Iron Man on the weekend - and enjoyed it. It's the best of the Marvel franchise (you have to use the word franchise these days, it's some manner of by-law as I understand it.) Robert Downey Jr is excellent. The plot and structure are certainly predictable and formulaic -and it's always that bit harder to suspend disbelief when the premise tries to be believable. It's somehow easier to accept a Kryptonian with super powers, or human becoming spider-esque after being bitten by a radioactive spider, than to believe that artificially intelligent robots would resort to sarcasm. It's worth the effort though, because with disbelief suspended by whatever means, some of the best dialogue occurs between RD Jr and his binary entourage.

Jeff Bridges is barely recognisable. Cuba Gooding Jnr, on the other hand, is instantly recognisable - even though he's not in it.

I missed the post-credits scene - but it apparently sets up the sequel (or should I say - the next instalment in the franchise).

Suzy gave it four and a half stars, and you'll find her review on the "At The Movies" website.

NOTICE ANYTHING?

2008-05-06T04:50:00.001-07:00

Connick drew this the other night, and it certainly amused me.

He then went on to tell us that his school books are full of pictures like this, and that the teacher always gets the other kids to look at them. Hmmm ... Weird ...

Then he clarified - they don't all have the front ripped out of their pants, they mostly have limbs cut off and stuff like that.

Well ... that set my mind at rest. He's not just a pervert ... he's also a budding psychopath. Whew!!!

At least he's not putting all his eggs in one basket.

FOB - 3 WINS ON THE TROT

2008-05-06T04:41:00.000-07:00

Did I forget to mention last Wednesday's soccer?

We are undefeated for the season - and the other teams turned up even!!!

RETURN TO GOD'S OWN COUNTRY

2008-05-06T04:10:00.001-07:00

ANZAC Day long weekend saw us back in Harrietville.
The Oven's Valley
God's Own Country as it were.

We danced, we sang, we made love. It was a whirlwind of romance and ... stuff.

As you'll undoubtedly recall from a previous thrilling blog entry, we left the van at mum and dad's after Easter. This meant a quick trip (relatively) over Dargo on the Thursday night after work.

I bought some books from the op shop - surprise surprise - including Billy Bathgate which you've no doubt seen on my current reading list (because I know you couldn't wait to look across there as soon as the page loaded).

We walked part-way up the Feathertop track, which looked a little something like this:

Suzy and Rachel (the 5th Eddy) turned back just before Picture Point - which is about 2kms up. Dad, Jo, Miles, Indi and Jesamine made it to Picture Point, while Danny and I continued passed Tobias Gap and Wombat Gap (but only because we missed it). So, we were probably about 6 kms up. Then we ran back down, which is not really standard bush-walking procedure, and Danny took a tumble which is also not standard bush-walking procedure, and I laughed at his mis-fortune, which after his constant stumbling had become standard bush-walking procedure (for me at least).

Much of the track we walked was covered in snow the following day!!! Get's me excited thinking about skiiing.

The kids played poker in the shed, which looked a little something like this:

We had Connick with us - and he looked like this:

We also had Jesamine with us - and she looked like this:

We towed the van back, which meant a looooong trip back down the Hume and through Melbourne.

That'll do for now. Thanks for your patience.

NEWS JUST IN ....

2008-04-23T05:09:00.000-07:00

FOB United have consolidated their win from last week with a second successive triumph at Stadium 34 in Moe. The Fat Old Bastards took a 3-1 lead into the half time break, and finished with a remarkable 6-1 victory over some other team who's name slips momentarily from this star-struck reporter's mind.

Particularly impressive were the two goals awarded to the illustrious captain - particularly the one that bounced awkwardly off his knee and into the goal much to his own seeming amazement.

FOB United are definitely the team to watch this season ... if only for a giggle.

BOOK UPDATE

2008-04-22T06:09:00.001-07:00

I just updated the blog and forgot to update the reading list. I finished The Shadow of the Wind - which was excellent. Thanks to Lee for the loan. It's a book that ticks pretty much all the boxes - good writing, interesting plot, well-paced. I recommend it.

I've now started on another loaner - Passionate Marriage by David Schnarch. This is a bit of a self-help book for sex and relationships.

I'm still progressively loading my books into ibookdb - I'm up to about 400 now, but I don't think I'm even half-way there yet. I wouldn't be surprised if I top 1,000 books! And there's a book sale in Morwell in a couple of weeks - how am I going to keep away?

It's surprising how many duplicates I keep finding. I've got so many unread books now that I'm really losing track and keep re-buying books that I already own.

I actually picked up another bag full of books today from dad - who, somewhat more sensibly than myself - is now scaling back his bibliophilic operation.

(Did I really forget to include this in the last post - or am I just trying to keep the numbers up to cast the illusion of a dedicated blogger).

EDDY FATHER AND DAUGHTER IN SPORTING TRIUMPHS

2008-04-21T04:51:00.001-07:00

Last Wednesday, which some of you know may know by its other name - April 16 - began a new indoor soccer season. FOB United returned from a period of intense training to take out the first game in an absolute nailbiter. This was a game with everything. People kicked goals. Other people kicked goals. The ball was passed around a bit. Sometimes it went out the side and had to be thrown back in. And didn't the crowd roar with excitement? Didn't they? Are you sure?

"Good start to the season" is what I imagine you to be thinking right about now. Of course we won the first game last season too ... and enough said about that.

Jesamine also recommenced netball the Saturday before last - go Gems. They didn't win the first game back, but they did win the second. That's a short-term success average of 100%!

And to celebrate - I opened Photoshop for the first time in many many long months:

I also built a playground for the kids on the weekend. Suzy bought this just before Christmas, and it's been in boxes in the garage ever since. I looked at it some time ago, and suggested to Suzy that, being designed as it was for 3-8 year olds, it may not be entirely appropriate for our somewhat more mature children. I was assured it would be fine and was, shall we say "encouraged" , to just get the bloody thing built. So, four hours later, it's fully assembled - and barely supports the weight of our kids swinging on the monkey bars, and doesn't really accomodate them within the cubby. So it'll now go into the paper to see what of the bargain retail price we can now recover.

TIME MANAGEMENT 101

2008-04-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

This is very much an impromptu blog entry, and let me preface by admitting that I'm very easily amused.

I am a mobile worker - which means that each day I turn up to one of four offices, depending on my schedule for the day, and find an unattended workstation where I can plug in my laptop for the day.

Today I'm in an office which, like many, has a year planner attached to a pinboard above the desk. The regular occupant of this office works with someone called Jack - and Jack apparently commenced leave on January 28th.

So, what do find when I look at the calender?

Jan 28 - Jack off

Now that's what I call planning!

TWO BIRDS - ONE STONE. YOU DO THE MATH!

2008-04-10T05:48:00.000-07:00

Today I had what can only be described as a flash of such pure genius that I can already hear the poo-poo-ing of the confederacy.

What are the two biggest problems facing Australia today?

Okay, now think of two other problems. Here's what they are:
- an ageing population, threatening a drain on our social security;
- a huge number of houses containing asbestos.

As people renovate/demolish/inhale their houses, without proper precautions they are risking asbestosis and that other one that's even harder to spell and pronounce. And the aforementioned "proper precautions" are quite frankly a tad pricey for the more thrifty amongst us.

Now, I may not be Doctor Lung, but my scantest knowledge of asbestos related diseases suggests that they take some time to develop. Were I not so confident of my own abilities I'd confirm this on Wiki, but I'm an ideas man - leave the details to those best suited.

So, we've got unemployed old people sitting around sponging off our taxes - and so old in fact, that they'd never have time to really develop a good terminal case of asbestosis (or the other one), before they die of some other "natural" cause. I think you can already see where this is heading ...

Old people earning their pensions by working in asbestos removal.

Two birds - one stone. You do the math.

No money spent on protective clothing, annoying filtration masks, washing, etc

I think it's a definite goer. Who's with me?

BREAKING NEWS RE: THE MYSTERIOUS H.M. BROWN

2008-04-03T04:18:00.000-07:00

If you've read my blog, or even just glanced over at the "What am I reading?" section, you'll know something of the mysterious H.M. Brown, a manuscript of whose I'm currently reading.

Well, lo and behold, said H.M. Brown was recently shortlisted for the 2008 ABC Fiction Award - and don't be fooled by the title, for ABC in an acronym, not an indicator of the level of writing required to make the cut.

Don't believe me? Well, check out this 'ere link:
http://www.abc.net.au/corp/abcfictionaward/winner.htm

Oh, what the hell. I'll save you the trouble and paste in the text from the site:

The six shortlisted authors come from three states: three from Victoria, two from New South Wales and one from South Australia.
Honey Brown, a young mother writing at her farm in country Victoria, has been shortlisted for her manuscript Red Queen. Relationships are of great interest to her, and are often the basis of her novels and screenplays.

I did read an earlier manuscript of the Red Queen, and I loved it - though I haven't read the final version, which I'm sure is either even better - or complete bollocks.

She didn't win, but did receive some manner of high commendation or such-like, so is a good chance of getting published. I could hardly be more excited if it had happened to me!!!

On the subject of books, I finished reading The Covenant of the Flame - by David Morell.
I think expectations are everything when it comes to enjoying a book. This one definitely has got the makings of a B-grade movie - but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Were I a pretentious wanker, I'd probably call it a "guilty pleasure". But I don't feel guilty - I just happen to enjoy pulp fiction.

The book is not dissimilar to The DaVinci code, both in subject and quality of authorship. The plot centres around descendants of the Spanish Inquisitors and practitioners of "mithraism", an allegedly pre-Christian pagan religion, but with many similarities to Christianity, including the notion a a virgin birth on December 25, and similar iconography.

The religious content is significantly factually incorrect, the writing is average and the plot totally unrealistic. However, the writing is at least unobtrusive, the plot well revealed and the story well paced.

I've now moved on to The Shadow of the Wind - by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

This book is on loan from Lee, and is so far excellent.

One final exciting bit-o-news. We got our new camera today. The old camera died during our Labour Day weekend at Harrietville, so I purchase a new Canon Powershot S5 IS on ebay. I had been hoping it would arrive over Easter, but anyway, it arrived today - and with 2GB SD-card instead of the 1GB that was advertised. Should I mark down the seller for "goods not as described"?

FIRE! FIRE ! FIRE!

2008-03-28T21:17:00.000-07:00

Camp fire, no less. And I don't mean fire of a homosexual or effeminate bent.

We're camping in Bright. God's own country.

We came over Dargo on Thursday afternoon, having left the van at Harrietville after our Labour Day long weekend getwaway. There was some amount of misunderstanding with the caravan park management, such that Leanne and Brian, having left home at some undeniably ungodly hour to arrive after a 7 hour drive in the decidedly godly Bright around lunchtime - to find our camp sites geographically and botanically dissimilar from those we'd booked.

After much consternation and telecommunicating to and fro, we decided to camp instead on Dad's front lawn at Harrientville, whilst negotiating further with the caravan park. Convient for us, as that's exactly where our van was.

We had a delightful time in Harrietville from Thursday until Tuesday, including a "big roast", with lamb, beef and numerous vegtables cooked for many hours in two camp ovens.

One slight problem though, in the last minute calling back and forth re the misplaced camp sites - we forgot to pack any clothes for Connick. Whoops.

On Easter Saturday we did the Bright market, and whilst in town filled a bag with clothes for Connick at the Op Shop for $5. Jesamine and Bronte bought matching Billbabong tops, and hardly took them off thereafter. I bought myself 5 books at the Op Shop - I won't list them here, because you'll find a new link added to my blog for:

"My Bookshelf"

That's right, I'm in anal retentive heaven! I've commenced the arduous yet pointless task of logging all of my books into an online database.

I also wandered down to the Little Bookshop in Bright, and bought another 3 books - also on the database of course.

The next day (Sunday by my reckoning) I went to the Harrietville Bush Market (remember, we're still staying in Harrietville at this stage - please try to keep up with the riveting narrative). What do you suppose I bought? More books. Another five in fact. Are they also on the database? You bet!!!

Whilst at Bright, we also started watching Underbelly on DVD - the TV series based on the Melbourne underworld killings. It's very well written, produce and acted (with the exception of Martin Sacks who is nohing short of appalling).

On Tuesday we moved to Bright (though, of course, you already knew that) and set ourselves up on some very nice powered sites. We struck an agreement with management to use unpowered sites and extend our stay a little longer (we were only booked to Thursday).

I've still been progressing with my R2D2 model. He's got arms now - and quite detailed arms at that, with stabilisers, struts etc:

I finished reading Atlas Shrugged - by Ayn Rand

The Review

I enjoyed the book - though felt somewhat bludgeoned from time to time by the incessant preaching about the virtues of greed. Plot-wise it was quite well crafted, though not entirely unpredictable. My biggest criticism would probably be with the dialogue - the heroes all use the same phrases and talk far too much. Also, as a book attempting to present a cohesive and intellectual argument, the opposition is too poorly presented - more propaganda than rational analysis.

It's a book that makes you think, and I'm pretty sure that to many people, that's what distinguishes art from entertainment.

I don't care much for those who discount the book because they discount the message. If it made you think enough to discount the message, then surely it's been of some value.

I also read Musicophilia, by Oliver Sacks. I bought this book for Danny for Christmas, and subesequently Suzy bought me a copy for Valentine's day. This is a very interesting book, comprising numerous medical case studies on the positive and negative impacts of various neurological illnesses and disorders on the ability of patients to perform, compose and enjoy music. For example, the books opens with the story of a man with no musical background who becomes obsessed with playing piano after being struck by lightening. There's also a man with severe amnesia, and a memory measured in seconds, who can still play complex pieces on piano, though with no memory of having ever seen or heard the music.

I'm also still reading the erotic fiction of the mysterious H.M. Brown (it's not particularly long, but I'm still taking it one chapter at a time).

What about fishing? Glad you asked. I took Connick out a couple of days ago - Rod Man and Net Boy striking fear into the hearts of trout up and down the Oven's River. We hooked four, lost two, and released the other two.

I went again yesterday, and hooked 13, lost 3, released 9 and kept one. At least the one I kept was a decent size - better than last time.

I started modelling Connick in Blender the other night. Firstly I drew some reference lines on his face with black whiteboard marker, then got Lee to take front and profile shots. I've pretty much finished now with my mesh topology, and need to start sculpting it it to look more like his head:

Anyway, the Scotts left for home today (Saturday), and we'll head off tomorrow. Hopfully the arsonists have taken some Easter leave and left our house alone.

Oh! I nearly forgot. On Thursday I went to the Bright Library and bought some more books, and later that day went back to the Op Shop and bought even more books. All on the database of course.

IN THE LINE OF FIRE

2008-03-18T04:52:00.000-07:00

My last blog post was Friday night, after the fire. What do you suppose happened Saturday night?

No, I wasn't visited by the ghosts of Christmas past present and future.

No, I wasn't abducted by prostate obsessed aliens.

I'm beginning to wonder if you're really trying. Look at the title for crying out loud!

ANOTHER BLOODY FIRE - THAT'S WHAT!!!!

Let me tell you about it ...

'Twas the night before Sunday, when all through the town
The arsonists were lurking, and burning stuff down

The lights out the front of the house were left on
In hopes that they'd feel too exposed and move on

Connick was nestled all snug in his bed
While Jesamine slept over at Rachel's instead

While Suzy used Photoshop and I modelled in 3D
With our laptops in the loungeroom, in front of the TV

Then out front of the house we heard a large truck
With a siren and lights, and we said "What the fuck?"

We ran out the front door, down the driveway we flew
Well we walked, but I'd like to be able to fly - wouldn't you?

Two trucks had arrived full of CFA folk
Who put out the fire amidst all the smoke

We stood and we watched and we wondered why would
People like to set fire to our grass and our wood

Two fires in two nights - it doesn't sound right
As you'd imagine it might it gave us a fright

So the next night after checking around
I got into bed hoping to sleep sound

But then around 1 o'clock after midnight
I heard a car where the fire had been Friday night

I sprang from the bed and raced out in my jocks
And hid behind bushes and stood upon rocks

Two likely lads were pulled up just outside
And I tried to observe them from within my hide

The were fossicking around in the car for something
I couldn't see what so I left them to ring ...

000 on the phone and ask for "Police"
"There's something afoot, can you send a car please"

I grabbed me some clothes and an axe just in case
How long would they stay, would this be a race?

Suzy and I then jumped in the car
And started to drive and find out who they are

As we pulled out of the drive, up the street
Came the cops with a spot casting light like a sheet

They arrived just in time, for the likely lads raced
Into their car and prepared to make haste

But the cops got them out, and took them away
To the station to see what they had to say

So still we don't know, were they fire bugs
Or just two losers taking some drugs?

If that was not them, I'll stay on the hunt
And I won't rest until I catch the ...

FIRE!!!!

2008-03-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

I stayed up a little too late tonight working on my R2D2 model. About 1:00am I went out to lock the chooks in, and on the way back I saw smoke and embers over the roof of the house. At first I thought the house was on fire, but as I ran closer, it was a little away from the house.

I ran inside and called 000, and as I ran outside, still with the phone in hand, I saw the local CFA were already on the job. They'd already attended a fire just up the road, when someone drove past and told them about our fire.

It seems we have a fire bug in the area. Bastards.

Now that's something exciting to blog about!!!

Anyway, it's 2:45am, so time I got to bed.

Oh, and then Connick woke up crying, because he's watched King Kong and was having nightmares.

Nighty night.

FOR THE LOVE OF A GOOD BOOK

2008-03-10T02:24:00.000-07:00

What is Labour Day? How can a day named as such not require any actual labour?

These are questions I'm unfit to answer, but I do love a long weekend, and on this long weekend, we attached our caravan and towed it to Harrietville.

The long weekend was preceeded on Friday by the school sports, so I worked from home to maximise my opportunity to score dad points. I made it down to the sports ground earlier in the day to see Jesamine in her first 800m race. She didn't come last!

I missed the kids in their sprints at the end of the day, but both Jesamine and Connick came second in their groups, so they came home with ribbons. Yay for happy healthy chil'ns.

We headed off about 4:20pm, and hit long-weekend peak hour traffic in Melbourne. After a stop for tea somewhere along the Hume, we didn''t arrive until about 11:30pm or thereabouts. We set the van up and mum and dad's house for the weekend.

On Saturday we did the Myrtleford market. The traders appear to be the same at every seasonal market around the northeast region. The highlight for me was finding secondhand bookshop open in town - and ain't I a sucker for a book.

So, here's the haul:

What can I tell you about them - without actually having read them - well:

Karl Czerny, born in Vienna, 1791, was a student of Beethoven, and went on to become a piano teacher himself - teaching Franz Liszt (amongst other notables) - and also a composer of many technical studies, the two most reknowned being The Art of Finger Dexterity and The School of Velocity.
Charles Darwin - if you don't know, and don't know his ship was the Beagle, then you're not invited to any trivia night with me.
John Wyndham (1903-1969) wrote (predominantly) science fiction, and is best known for Day of the Triffids.
Tom Sharpe is one of my favourite British authors of comedy. Ever heard of "Wilt" - filmed in 1989 with Mel Smith and Gryff Rhys Jones?

Other than buying books, we had a few of the locals over for BBQ on Saturday night, which meant guitars out and singing around the campfire until 2am (ish) - by which time I was bleeding profusely from my fingers (and more than a little, shall we say, tipsy).

Sunday I went fishing up a short stretch of the Ovens River in Smoko.

Statistics:

30 odd takes
15 hooked
13 landed
1 kept
all on one Elk Hair Caddis - and it was still floating (then I lost it in a tree)

Plenty of action, but all tiny. Even the one I kept was only snack sized - but a damned tasty snack at that.

Anyway, we're home now. Left the van in Harrietville and drove back over Dargo - in a little under three and a half hours.

3 POSTS fOR THE PRICE OF ONE!!! GET YOURS HERE!!!

2008-02-27T03:33:00.000-08:00

Wednesday night has become blogging night - by chance not design. This week I'll suppress that part of my personality that causes me alphabetise CDs and give every blog topic a new post.

Number 1 - A MOVING PICTURE SHOW

Last Friday I gatecrashed Suzy and Lee's (semi) regular weekly movie date (again). The film - Dan In Real Life.

Did I like it? Yes I did. I' not a particularly huge fan of Steve Carell, though I did like him in Little Miss Sunshine, and now also in this. Steve Carell falls into my Will Ferrell category, another actor I don't have a great deal of time for, but really enjoyed in Stranger Than Fiction. It's important to have categories - don't you think?

Sure, it's predictable and lightweight - but it was Friday afternoon so it's hard not to enjoy a movie.

Number 2 - SIX-POINT-SIX, THE NUMBER OF THE BEAST

The beast in this case being Connick (or should I say "Konnick"). I picked the kids up after work tonight and retraced his steps from last weeks shenanigans.

6.6 kms

Not bad for a lazy sod!

Number 3 - FOB UNITED BREAK THE DROUGHT

After 15 consecutive losses, and in the last game of the season - we recorded a win.

YAY!!!

Actually, when I say in the last game, what I mean is, in relation to the last game. Because, you see, there was no game. I received a phone call from the southern hemishphere's largest skating rink to tell me that the opposition were, quite frankly, afraid to play us. Yep, I'm pretty sure that's what I was told. Almost certainly that may well have been a possible reason.

Whatever - we get the points.

HOW'S THAT MODELLING COMING ALONG?

2008-02-27T03:24:00.000-08:00

Well, as it happens, I've done some work on the body, and also made the utility arms that live on what can best be described as his droidal chest. Originally I made these arms as surface details on the body, but then I decided to model them "properly" - just in case I ever try to animate the little feller.

I presume this gets faster and easier with practice - but I'm still waiting to experience that.

LINKS

2008-02-20T19:43:00.000-08:00

What is a website without links?

I don't know, so I'd thought I'd add some. Well, one initially.

Basic Instructions is a very funny comic, created by a stand up comedian and updated about twice a week.

I printed off a selection and bound them into a book as a Christmas present for Danny - and he certainly pretended to appeciate it. And I certainly proved that not only am I incredibly "careful" with my money, but I also have an alarming diregard for the intellectual property of others.

If you only visit one website this year - make it my blog. But if you're not quite so time poor - get along to Basic Instructions

WHAT AM I READING NOW? WELL, I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!

2008-02-20T05:39:00.000-08:00

What? Four posts in one night? I know - this man in a blogging machine. Yeah - I guess it would be good if he got a life. And he sure does write a lot of bollocks.

By the way Shez, as you've unwittingly become my most consistent commenter, I'll be mightily disappointed if I don't see four individual replies against these posts. Is my mighty disappointment something you really want on your conscience? I thought not.

So, I haven't finished either of the other books I have on the go - but I did start a new one last night. I can't provide a web link, because it's an unpublished manuscript - but it will be published. Oh yes. It will be published.

The author is a friend of mine, known only as H.M. Brown. Actually, that's not all she's known as, but that's what she writes on her manuscripts, so let's run with that. I've known the mysterious H.M. Brown for most of my life. She's the sort of family friend that I recall being genuinely suprised at some point in my childhood to find out that she's not a cousin or some other relation.

Anyway, she's the cleverest person I know - because she starts writing stuff ... and then she finishes it!!!!!!! I have always been aware that this sort of thing occurs, and I've certainly enjoyed the product of it on an atonishingly regular basis - but I have no idea how it happens, and I've never witnessed it from such close range. I myself have made numerous starts on writing projects over the years - but they never get far (and probably a bloody good thing to). (Honestly, can't I finish anything)

I've read 2 of her other unpublished books, and a couple of screenplays, but this particular book - Entitlement - is the dirtiest, filthiest, sexiest thing I've ever read. And that includes things beginning with "I always thought the letters to your magazine were made up. But the other night I was working back late in the office ..."

I've only read 8 pages, but it's aleady steamy as all get out (whatever that means). I can only read small sections at a time, because, quite frankly, I find it all just too arousing.

Anyway, as I said, this one will be published, so no doubt I'll be trying to convince everyone I know to buy a copy. In fact, you'll probably be able to buy a copy through me, for not much more than 15% more than anyone else might be selling them for.

Okay, at four posts, I think I'd best get me to bed. Thanks for your patience. No, really - thankyou.

WHAT AM I DRAWING?

2008-02-20T05:22:00.000-08:00

Yep, another new section to the blog. Maybe I should add one called "What am I actually getting around to finishing". Now that should make for a quick read.

So, I've already said that, prior to being gung-ho about blogging (and after being gung-ho about composting, which I haven't mentioned before, and which I'm actually still pretty obsessive with), I was gung-ho on trying to draw caricatures. I even posted some. And Lee accused me of showing off. And then Lee suggested I include more pictures with my blog entries. Fuck. It's no wonder I'm so riddled with "issues".

Hang on a minute. I don't like the term "gung-ho" - and yet I've used it 3 times in this post (well, actually 4 now), and twice in a previous post.

Anyway, between the caricature stage and the start of the blogging stage, I embarked on a bit of a coloured pencil portraits stage.

I did two, one of Jesamine, and one of Suzy with Connick, which I thought were okay (though I was about to post them here, and when I looked at them I decided they're a bit crap). Then I bought a really big bit of paper, which necessitated me making a really big drawing board, and started a new picture. Sort of a collage - of Jesamine and Connick in fancy dress. Jesamine was dressed as Hermione (from Harry Potter), and Connick was a Jack Sparrow inspired pirate. I created the design firstly as a Photoshop layout, and now I'm working from that. So far I'm happy with it - though with the amount of time I'm spending writing phrases like "gung-ho" willy nilly about the internet (damn, I've done it again), I'm not really spending enough time on it.

THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING CHILD

2008-02-20T04:27:00.001-08:00

I spent today in Ringwood for meetings. I decided to make an early start this morning rather than stay over , as we had Danny and Jo over for a BBQ last night, and besides which I don't usually sleep well in motel rooms, so I thought an early start would be, if not desirable, at least less undesirable.

Wrong!

I didn't count on the traffic. One hour and twenty minutes along Stud Rd from the freeway to Ringwood. That's a distance of about 18kms.

So I didn't get the early start I'd hoped for, but that's entirely irrelevant to the story I aim to tell.

I had my phone off during the meetings, as any good employee should - so I was unaware of the following events until I was driving home. This is a true story . Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. But not very much, because I'm not sure anyone is sufficiently innocent to warrant substantial protection.

A lady I know, let's call her "Soozy", who is married to a charming and handsome young chap of about my general build and demeanour, and who works on Wednesdays - has a standing arrangement with her mother, let's call her "Jill", to pick up the kids from school on Wednesdays. Jill often takes the kids to Soozy's grandparents' house for a visit - which by all accounts is a lovely thing to do.

On this particular Wednesday, let's call it "tooday" - one of the children, a male child of 8 years with none of the personality traits of his charming and handsome father - let's call him "Konnick" - took umbrage at some perceived slight visited upon him by an undoubtedly well meaning senior citizen of direct lineage, and left in what can best be described as a "huff". Had this huff been combined with a puff, and had the aforementioned grandparents lived in a house of straw or twigs, then I shudder to think of how entirely catastrophic the situation may have become (by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin).

As circumstance would have it, the puff-less huff gave Konnick cause to desert the immediate vicinity in a manner rendering all attempts at subsequent location to be of no avail.

Quite the conundrum I'm sure you'll agree.

So, and this is a strange outworking of the tale which I'm yet to investigate further, Jill returned to her own domicile with the remaining child (let's call her "Jasmine" - everyone else does) in tow, to await Soozy's return from work. Upon arrival, Soozy was informed of the pariculars of Konnick's non-attendance, and panic, as I'm sure you have already surmised, ensued.

Calls were made to the local constabulary. Friends, Roman's and countrymen were enlisted to join the search. And I don't doubt there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Eventually, Konnick, employing a quite recent variation on Alexander Graham Bell's 1876 invention, made audible contact with Jill to advise that he was ensconced comfortably within his own abode.

So, a child too lazy to clean his bedroom, walked for 90mins, in the rain, in his socks, from one corner of town to the other, then climbed the balcony outside his parents bedroom, to find an unlocked door (if you're a burglar, rest assured it's usually locked ... to keep the crocodile from getting out and scrapping with the lion), and got inside.

The police apparently gave him a stern talking to, and Suzy (I mean "Soozy") made him ring all of those engaged in the search individually to apologise for the trouble he'd caused.

What a little bugger!!!

FOB IN EPIC STRUGGLE

2008-02-20T04:17:00.000-08:00

I really need to automate a post each Wednesday to remind the world that we keep losing.

7-10 this week, which was not a bad result, and this week I'm giving full credit for all 7 of our goals to JB. Just to prove that not only am I a prick, but I'm unstable and unpredictable. I'll also give myself some credit (yes, I know, it's been fully allocated, but ... whatever ...) because I scored two of our goals. Still, I couldn't have done it without JB cheering me along.

Last game next week before the finals. We could well be in a play-off yet for the wooden spoon.

I'll start a new post now. Stay tuned ...

Make that 14 Losses

2008-02-13T03:46:00.000-08:00

FOB United - the rockin'est indoor soccer team to ever take to the southern hemisphere's largest skating rink (come on now, it's not the eighties anymore, where's the competition really?) went down again tonight - this time by 11-3 - with no goals to the valiant cap'n.

Still, it was against the top team, which means we lost last week by a greater margin to a lesser team - and therefore we were obviously a better team tonight - just not the better team.

I don't think there's been a season yet (and we've played a dozen or so) that we haven't somehow made the finals. I'll be interested to see how the stadium management work it to ensure we qualify this season.

Personally, I'm laying the blame entirely on JB for the loss. Not because he deserves it - just to reinforce my reputation as a bit of a prick. I think I'll lay secondary blame (and with the blame already laid entirely there's not much left) on my shoes - which are falling apart. Note to self - must buy new shoes. A bad workman always blames his tools - so I blame us for playing like tools!

Goodnight cruel world.

2 FILMS FOR EVERY BOY

2008-02-12T15:56:00.000-08:00

Suzy and I drove to Melbourne for an appointment yesterday (and I screamed at her, and she screamed at me, and Connick called on the mobile to ask for a Vegemite sandwich) so on the way home we stopped at Fountain Gate to see movie. And that movie was - Cloverfield. I read a review which described it as Godzilla meets the Blair Witch project. I can't do better than that, because that's exactly what it is. But, that's not to suggest that it's entirely derivative and worthless - at least not anymore-so than any other movie. I thought it was a great action pic, and I blame my headache on pre-existing conditions, not on the fact that the shooting is entirely hand-held (thus the Blair Witch comparison).

Anyway, we stopped again on the way home - this time in Morwell - for another movie. And that movie goes by the title "American Gangster". Again, a very good film. Am I just easy to please, or do I mostly see good movies?
This is more of a stock-standard gangster film. I'd call it well made, well acted, and generally robust. Not breaking any new ground, but a good movie nonetheless.

I'd certainly give both these movies some stars. Let's see now, I think 4 stars for Cloverfield and 3.1459 for American Gangster. That would be out of a possible 5 in case you're wondering.

WHAT AM I MODELLING?

2008-02-10T03:51:00.001-08:00

Welcome to a new section on my blog called "What am I modelling?".

Emphasis is important here. You can't read this as me being suprised to find myself in front of a camera - like "What? Am I modelling?".

One of my hobbies is 3D modelling, using the open source software blender (http://www.blender.org/). This started with crazy scheme I embarked on last Christmas with the kids. To summarise a period of prolonged insanity, it went something like this:

1) Let's make a movie

2) Let's make it an animated movie

3) Butchers paper and post-it-notes stuck to kitchen wall for storyboarding

4) Trial various 2D cartoon software products

5) Trial various 3D software products

6) Puchase Poser for 3D animation

7) Start learning Poser

8) This is not easy, rendering times are horrendous, and modelling capability is limited - but it's good fun

9) Discover Blender - full-featured 3D with modelling, animation, compositing, game engine, fluid simulation - WOW!

10) Decide to build a 3D scanner to create models

11) Buy laser for scanner

12) Start writing software to capture laser traced images with webcam and convert into mesh data

13) Hmmm, this is harder than I thought

14) Butchers paper and post-it-notes removed from kitchen wall - it's no longer cute

15) Why would I build a scanner to convert models to meshes when I have no experience with creating real-world models anyway?

16) Movie seems like a distant memory

17) Start learning how to model in Blender ...

And here I am, modelling R2D2. Nerd? What nerd?

FOB United - 13 Straight Losses

2008-02-06T04:24:00.000-08:00

Wednesday nights are soccer nights for me - indoor soccer at Stadium 34 in Moe - and tonight we racked up our 13th straight loss for the season. This is from 14 games, and the team we beat in round 1 were relegated to second division. Methinks there's mis-grading afoot.

I think the score was in the vicinity of 13-3. At least I scored on of our three goals, which is not bad because for those who know me, as an athlete I make a great musician.

Connick's 8th Birthday

2008-02-05T03:04:00.001-08:00

Connick Lewis turned 8 today, and we gave him 72 Derwent Artist pencils in a lovely wooden box. Lucky boy - my Derwents are only in a battered old tin that I've had for about 20 years (by which I mean the tin is dented, not that it's been rolled it in flour and egg for frying). Even my new Prismacolors are in a lesser quality case than Connick's new Derwents! Precision dovetailing, brass fittings, flawless finish - I've got case-envy.

The strange thing is - Connick asked for these in preference to a Nintendo DS. As far as I'm concerned no 8 year old has any right turning back a computer game for pencils.

We had the family over for a BBQ and a swim. The kids' party is on Saturday - but I won't say where in case Corey from Narre Warren has a younger brother on the prowl.

Anyway, since Lee accused me of substandard blogging by virtue of not having sufficient pictographic accompaniment, I thought I'd attach some of my favourite Connick pictures to celebrate his birthday.

Hoorah!

Love My Way - We made it!

2008-02-03T00:23:00.000-08:00

Suzy and I sat doen last night after Ross Noble and made another attempt on Love My Way episode 8 - and we got through it! And finished the series (10 episodes).

Actually, I finished the series - Suzy fell asleep.

I had no intention of watching this show - but initially Suzy put it on in the bedroom while I was reading, and it gradually stole my attention. It really is good, but very hard going. Particularly if you have kids.

Ross Noble

2008-02-02T03:54:00.001-08:00

Just got back from seeing Ross Noble at the Traralgon theatre. Hilariously funny, as always, and totally unscripted, as always.

One pissed guy left in the first half - because "it's shit", but then, somewhat curiously, elected to return for the second half and heckle throughout. Not witty heckling - hell, not even relevant heckling. Just pissed heckling. Anyway, he was escorted out of the theatre by some likely lads in black t-shirts - to much cheering from the assembled masses.

I won't attempt to describe any of the show, because that's never going to work - but I will award it a veritable galaxy of the brightest and shiniest of stars. And I'm sure the honourable Mr Noble would be thrilled to know that I'm awarding his show as such.

We might now make another attempt on episode 8 of Love My Way. Wish me luck.

Juno what? I saw a movie today.

2008-02-01T04:55:00.000-08:00

Bugger - Lee has beaten me to blogger with today's news. Obviously nervous at the prospect of losing her fanbase.

With my two courtesy tickets in hand, I crashed Suzy and Lee's Friday movie and subsequent lunch. The film was Juno, and it was really good. It had something of the feel of a feature length Gilmour Girls, except that I wouldn't care too much for a feature length Gilmour Girls - so perhaps not so much. Dialogue was excellent, characters were excellent, soundtrack was quirky and eminently suitable to the type of film. I give it numerous stars - Margaret?

Suzy and I also sat down tonight to finish watching the first series of Love My Way, which we started watching a week or so ago on DVD. Suzy watched a few episodes while I was staying in Melbourne this week, but came unstuck at episode eight and had too turn it off. After catching up on the episodes I'd missed, we got to episode 8, and it's just too bloody much for me too. There's drama and there's drama - and then there's episode 8 of Love My Way. In one episode the series has moved from something akin to Secret Life of Us to something which ... well ... I haven't typed Spoiler Alert in the heading so you'll have to watch yourself - if you can!

Nighty night.

No Film For Old Men

2008-01-31T03:07:00.000-08:00

Having been staying in Melbourne since Monday night for work, coming home tonight I dropped into Fountain Gate for tea, and decided to check out the movies whilst there. By a most improbable circumstance, No Country For Old Men was starting in 8 minutes. This was quite the boon for me because:
(a) I wanted to see it;
(b) 8 minutes is not a long time to wait; and
(c) I'd been told it wouldn't be coming to the local cinema.

So, I bought me a ticket and proceeded to cinema 4. And quite a delightful cinema it was too - large comfortable seats - huge screen - plenty of legroom - steep - a notable absence of rowdy teenagers.

Having sat through the mandatory softdrink and alcohol advertisements, we got to the good bit - previews of films which have not yet been classified by the Office of Film and Literature Classification. In this case - Rambo. And then ....

Nothing.

The entire shopping centre lost power, and with the price of petrol these days, I guess generators are just not a viable option. So, after taking advantage of the comfortable seating for a short nap - or "kip" if you will - I collected quite a fetching pair of matching complimentary tickets (not quite Wonka golden tickets, but still there was two of them so that's not to be sneezed at, lest they catch a cold) and continued on my merry way home.

And lived happily ever after.

The End.

What am I reading?

2008-01-30T01:23:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd add a new section to my blog for what I'm currently reading. The first thing to note here is that I always have a minimum of two books on the go - one for bed and one for the toilet.

What?

Too much information?

This is my blog and we'll play by my rules thank you very much!

So what are these books and why am I reading them?

Atlas Shrugged is a book I bought myself for Christmas. I even wrapped it up and put it under the tree until Christmas Day! Again, my blog, my rules!

I have been meaning to read some Ayn Rand for about 20 years now. As a teenager I was a big fan of Canadian rock trio Rush (did I just write "Canadian rock trio"? What am I, a music journalist?). Neil Peart, drummer and lyricist for the band, often quoted Ayn Rand as a significant influence (or possibly ONCE quoted Ayn Rand as an influence and had it repeated in articles ever after). Anyway, this was the first time in my life I've actually noticed an Ayn Rand book in a book shop, and so I bought it, and so far I'm enjoying it (so far being page 169 of 1069). The book has a strong philosophical subtext, which, looking at the reviews on Amazon.com, seems to have polarised many readers.

Interestingly, in searching for a link to the book, I found on imdb.com (for the uninitiated, that would be the international movie database) that there is a film version currently in production starring Angelina Jolie. What a most amazing coincidence.

The other book I'm reading at the moment, the toilet book, is a hardcover I inherited from my grandfather some years ago and only recently pulled off the shelf for the first time. As the title suggests, it's a collection of Australian folklore, along with some commentary.

Bye for now.

Caricatures

2008-01-27T21:44:00.000-08:00

Just as I'm currently very gung-ho about having a blog, for a period last year I was similarly gung-ho about trying to draw caricatures. I thought I'd post a few of my favourites in here.

The Police - in concert no less

2008-01-27T04:32:00.000-08:00

I saw The Police last night at the MCG. The ticket was a birthday present from mum, and by the most remarkable of coincidences my seat was exactly next to my brother's seat, even though he got his ticket from mum for his birthday which is like a month after mine.

Spooky.

Actually, it's lucky we weren't wearing matching shirts, which I'm sure we would also have received for our respective birthdays - such is the madness of the modern mother.

I was camping in Seaspray with the family for the Australia Day long weekend, so headed off from there after lunch, took care of a few jobs around the house (feeding animals, napping on couch etc), then picked Danny up from a naturalisation shindig for Declan, the local ex-Irish bar-keep.

Appalling traffic once we hit the city - what with Australia Day celebrations, the Australian Open women's singles final (isn't it great that they have a final just for single women), and of course 40-odd thousand people making their way to the Police concert.

The Police were supported by Fergie (Jesamine's favourite singer), which I maintain is a pretty odd choice - but she looks great so what the hey!

I've often wondered what an artist with very little material does in a concert, and now I know - covers, and medleys of other covers. She had an excellent backing band, and some cool dancers.

Our seats were so far from the action that we were actually in a dimension theorised by physicists solely for the purposes of reconciling quantum mechanics with general relativity and for cramming more people into concert venues.

On a positive note, we had a good view of the screens, and being at the back of the stadium we only hear the music once - unlike those in the middle who hear it first a half second before us, and again a half second after as it echos off the stands.

Pretentious wanker he may be, but Sting remains a phenomenal musician. His voice was superb, and his bass playing effortlessly precise. Stewart Copeland was also fantastic, and reminded me why he was so revered amongst the percussive fraternity in the eighties (that is to say, in the the nineteen-eighties, not just amongst octogenarian drummers).

You know you're witnessing an eighties revival when the drummer sits in front of a gong. It's a big bastard to carry around, and to be honest, there's not a lot of call for gong-work in most songs.

A source close to the band reported this exchange from 1984 ...

Stewart: Hey Sting, I bought I gong, wanna hear it?
Sting: What the fuck for?
Stewart: Well, every other drummer has one, and they ... well ... not to put too fine a point on it ... rock! I thought I might use it on Roxanne ...
Sting: No!
Stewart: Message in a Bottle?
Sting: No!
Stewart: Even if I hit it really quiet?
Sting: What?
Stewart: Look, me and Andy don't complain when you sing "yo-yo-yo" in every bloody song.
Sting: Oh for fuck's sake. Okay. At the end of Synchronicity II you can hit your bloody gong then.
Stewart: Sting ...
Sting: Yes?
Stewart: It's really heavy. Can you help me carry it?
Sting: Right! That's it! I'm fed up! This bands over!

Anyway, it was a fantastic concert. 4 1/2 stars from me.

Welcome to my blog

2008-01-23T19:37:00.000-08:00

Shit!!!

Another nail in the casket that has for so long threatened to inter my barely adequate facade of balanced normality and lay me bare as just another wanker with a blog.

I take temporary refuge in the knowledge that my track record with persistence is less than exemplary. In all probability my blogging efforts will peter out over the coming months (weeks? hours?), and I can get back to my other great hobby - infiltrating the fringes of the human race.

What can you expect in the interim?

I'm glad you asked.

I might post the odd picture, the odd rant, the odd poorly conceived theory on matters of universal importance. I could even post the odd piece of music, though I'm looking at the toolbar and can't see an icon for this ... we'll have to see about that one.

For those of you who take the time to visit, at least you'll have something to tell the grandchildren:

I remember the summer of 2008, when one of the great thinkers of our generation cast his light so brightly into a darkened world. Those were good times. It was an era of brilliant clarity, but alas, this enlightment was cut short in its prime, as the dunces amassed in confederacy to ensure a return to more sober philosophical standings. Oh yes - good times indeed.