Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Bananas can be had for $1.49 a kilo. Must be God's country.
There are billboards by the side of the highway which say "You are 9 months older than you think - Protect Life." Must be God's country.
So did I ever mention that I love Canberra? Dear God I love Canberra.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Not much to report there, but of more interest to me was the dire predictability of my brain in pouring out anxiety-dream after anxiety-dream the night before.
So, in the one night, my brain turned out the following:
- I look at the clock and have 2 hours until my interview, then in a matter of seconds, I actually only have 2 minutes to my interview and I'm not showered or dressed, and for some reason I'm in Sydney, 3 hours from my interview.
- Then, rushing to do the 3-hour drive to Canberra, my motorbike won't start - someone has loosened the spark plugs. I search for my spark plug tool only to find it missing from my tool box. Once I get the bike fixed, I can't find my helmet.
- I go to retrieve my suit and ironed shirt (pre-prepared interview outfit) from my locker at work, only to find it has been stolen by my high-school enemy (WTF?!).
- I somehow get my suit back and go to get changed, only to find the changeroom has suddenly transformed into the Bangkok floating market and there is nowhere private to get changed.
- I manage to get changed but then can't get to the interview room - It is in a newly constructed building which has no lift and no stairs.
Although, with these kinds of bland stereotypes and predictable denouements floating around upstairs, I might just be in line for a script-writer's gig with Neighbours (boom-tish!).
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
I’ve feckin had it with those people who don’t let others exit lifts before barging in themselves, elbows first. Over and over again, the lift doors open and there they are, one foot from your face, sighing impatiently at your very existence.
Hey, toolbag! I know I’m ‘in your way’ but I can’t actually feckin dematerialise you know. Maybe we could share the planet?
Let’s think about it for just a second, Mr Impatient Moron – if you are standing there, 3 inches from the doors as they open, blocking people’s exit from the lift, where do you expect them to go? Backwards into all the other people still in the lift?
Or, rather than the person who has limited space to move giving way, maybe you, with all that empty, unbounded space behind you, could step to the side – something that the people still inside the lift can’t physically do.
Oh sorry, I forgot. It’s all about you and your brief case/6-inch heels, isn’t it. Bet you wish you could drive your 4WD around inside and just run people over if they get in your way.
And before you all pipe up with a clever comment about how insignificant my gripes are – there’s plenty of people in this world writing about the significant issues. I’m simply filling a gap in the market.
Monday, March 12, 2007
I mean, I completely understand the need to take due care in handing over medication without a prescription. No one wants to go home with the wrong flavour cough medicine – a horrible tragedy just waiting to happen if it weren’t for the diligence of pharmacists.
That’s fine. But the behaviour of some pharmacists would make you think that society is barely holding back the tidal wave of a non-prescription drug addiction epidemic (“Police today warned teenagers against the terrifying side-effects of laxative abuse” etc, etc).
As an example, I’ve previously attempted to purchase some higher-end over the counter pain medication for ‘me gammy back’ (as recommended by my GP). I’m only exaggerating the teensiest bit when I tell you this resulted in a bright light in the face, a sly assessment of the redness of my eyes and an onslaught of wickedly ingenious questioning designed to trap unwary drug addicts disguised as middle-of-the-road public servants with lumbago.
The questions started off fairly innocuously, along the lines of “do you have any allergies?” and “are you on any other medication”, and were clearly designed to lull me into a false sense of security and then BANG! In with the trick question - “which is better, a metal or ceramic crack pipe?” obviously seeking to catch me off guard with an unintentionally honest answer of “Uh, ceramic – oh no! The charade is over! I am addicted to naprogesic and you have sprung me! Sob!”
Despite this history of Guantanamo Bay style interrogation, I honestly thought I’d be able to get some simple, run of the mill cold medication relatively easily. I mean, I’ve bought and used this stuff a zillion times before with no questions asked. Plus, I thought the dripping nose, red eyes and general foggy aura would lend an air of genuineness to my quest for paracetamol-based relief.
Me: “Hi, I’d like a 12-pack of codrals please”
ColumboPharmacist: “No. That is not allowed. The only ones that come in 12s are the prescription only super-strength ones and I can’t sell those to you as you don’t have a prescription and they are a restricted medicine.”
Me: “Uh. Ok. Then I’ll take the 24-pack of the medication I asked for.”
Pharmacist: “Ok, but you do realise that you are not allowed to buy the version that has pseudoephedrine in them?”
Me: “That’s fine. Can I buy these codrals?” *shaking the packet*
Pharmacist: “You can, but you can’t buy the ones with pseudoephedrine in them because you don’t have a prescription.”
Me: “I don’t want the ones with pseudoephedrine in them. I want these ones I’m holding.” *shaking the packet again*
Pharmacist: “That’s fine. But in future you’ll need a prescription for the pseudoephedrine ones.”
Me: “Can I buy these codrals now?”
Pharmacist: “Yes, you can. For now. Now, are these for you or someone else?”
Pharmacist: “Do you have any allergies, respiratory problems or heart complaints?”
Pharmacist: “Are you on anti-depressants?”
Me: “No.” But I might want some soon if this keeps up.
Pharmacist: “How is your thyroid?”
Me: “My what?”
Pharmacist: “How is your thyroid?”
Me: “Um. I don’t know. It seems fine to me but how could I know for sure?”
Pharmacist: “Well if you do have thyroid problems talk to your doctor because this medication can affect some kinds of older thyroid medication in a small number of cases when taken in high dosages.”
Me: “Can I have the codrals please?”
Pharmacist: “Ok. Now, do you want the day/night formula?”
Me: “No, just the regular ones please. These ones I am holding.”
Pharmacist: “Ooo. Hmmm. I guess. But you do know these can affect your sleep patterns which can affect your chances of a speedy recovery…”
Me: “Can I please just have this 24-pack of plain, regular codrals?”
Fools. I’m going to sell them on the street to kids. I'm going to make a fortune.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
I reckon they speak for themselves most of the time but I will note they are mainly from the marshalling areas during the hours upon hours of tedious pre-parade wait.
My photos from the actual parade turned out 100% blurry (probably because I was waving my arms around like a maniac) and make me a bit sea-sick to look at, so I won't inflict them on you.
You get all those kinds of shots on the news and in the papers anyway. So hopefully these photos will provide a glimpse of what you mightn't otherwise see.
But before we get to all that, let me just note there was a bit of pre-ride excitement.
Guess whose bike broke down the night before the big day? Yes! It was me, cleverpants. How did you know?
Lousy hunk of junk! Stupid piece o' crap!
Actually, no, I love my bike. But come on!!! The night before? Sunuvvabeyotch.
So anyway, 3 hours of traipsing up and down to the garage lugging tools, in the 35 degree heat, skinning my knuckles on cylinder heads pretending to know how to fix bikes, swearing like a real dyke and I'd gotten nowhere. Eff.
Plan B involved me wedging myself on the back of the LovelyWife's scooter. Which, on the face of it, sounds fine, doesn't it?
Well, I ride a big beefy bike in a big beefy manner and have even ridden on a race track. So under normal circumstances, I reckon I'm not a complete girly. But eff me dead if I didn't squeal like a woman when I got on the back of the LovelyWife's scooter for the first time! I just couldn't overcome the instinctive feeling that if I didn't put my feet down when we stopped, we'd fall over. And you just can't put your feet down as a pillion.
White knuckles a-plenty.
Oh, and if you are looking for a thrill, look no further than riding a scooter on the freeway - ringing the nuts off it at 110km/h and being tailgated by B-Doubles. Could be considered an adrenalin sport, I guess.
But the LovelyWife was a real trooper and I owe her a zillion for giving me a dink!
I did miss out on deafening the crowd with my very excitingly loud and sexy engine revving, but it still an awesome evening. Some people in the crowd even yelled out that they loved the scooter the best.
Which I can now totally understand.
But anyway, on with the photos. Dial-up? Get a coffee.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
“SYDNEY eye in the sky Vic Lorusso has seemingly outed Anthony Callea on radio -not that there's anything wrong with that. He mentioned meeting Callea while discussing an old school mate on The Edge's brekkie show yesterday. "You wouldn't know him. He's a nice guy but his partner, which is Anthony Callea, didn't want to know anything about anybody," he told host Christo. When Christo questioned the comment, Lorusso quickly continued with the traffic report. A spokeswoman for the show claimed Lorusso had not been taking a pot shot at Callea: "Vic had no idea that it wasn't common knowledge.”
That last line is pretty much the most hilarious thing I've heard so far this year.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
That way, you don’t stuff up the collating process or dog-ear the pages of my document, which I will now have to re-print. If the printer is in the middle of printing my document, I think it is rather unlikely that it will suddenly start printing yours without first finishing mine, don’t you? Freak.
To the impatient freak who saw me walking towards the kitchen with my mug and a tea-bag and then decided to run towards the kitchen to get the tap before me – get a life! Freak.
Also - conversation heard from over the partition, regarding Oscar red-carpet pictures:
Colleague 1: Portia de Rossi looks nice.So there you have it.
Colleague 2: What’s she doing there, has she been in any films lately?
Colleague 1: Well, no but I guess she’s there as Ellen’s date…
Colleague 2: Ellen’s date?
Colleague 1: Yes. Ellen’s date.
Colleague 2: You mean, date date?
Colleague 1: Uh-huh.
Colleague 2: Why…what…why would she be Ellen’s date?
Colleague 1: Well, maybe because they are an ‘item’?
Colleague 2: Really? I didn’t know that……really?
Colleague 2: But have you seen her in Arrested Development? She’s really good in that.
Good performance in sitcom = no way can you be gay!