Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Always go to the toilets before heading for your desk

I have cavernous nostrils. You can easily fit a forefinger up one to the first knuckle. As a result of having large nozzers my nostril contained issues are on greater public display. For example my nose hair is more prominent.

The other day, in the new office, I elected to go to the toilet. I'd been at work for 15 minutes at that point. It was upon washing hands and looking in the mirror that I noticed a thick hunk of goober hanging in my nose hair like a fucking bell clapper.

I'm not one to put a massive store in one's appearance. I ain't settin' the world on fire with my physical presentation. But I like to have at least a bodgie free nose when in a public place.

An update to a classic song

Nina Simone's original is good, but it needs to be couplefied.

How about ... ?

My baby saw that my
anti-bacterial foot soap dispenser was dry
so she went and filled it up ...
for me.

Thanks Nooner.

Spot the difference

Walkin' boy

As promised here is a pic of theNoo in walking mode.

He fully looks like he's doing the end scene of The Full Monty and he's flung a hat off to the side.

Miscellaneous other

I learned to spell miscellaneous from years of writing up homemade AD&D character sheets. I digress, as ever.

Thai Stir Fries

I saw this in a menu. Shouldn't it be 'Frys' since its a plural of a fry as opposed to the verb of fries? No, according to Dictionary dot com it is indeed Fries as the plural of the noun fry. Huh?! I felt all snootily proud. I will have to de-snoot.


I saw this at a friend's place. You flush it down your lav and it kills tree roots invading your pipes. Only if you break down this here portmanteau, it's made up of root and tox. Except it's not. It's either Roo Tox - meaning it kills roos. Or it's Root Ox - some sort of lubricant for bovine bull lovin'. For shame company that makes this. For shame.

Message from 43 to 44

Apparently tradition is that a departing US pres leaves the incoming pres a handwritten note in the presidential desk (see the National Treasure movies for more). Bush left Obama a note. What's the bet Bush also left a bit of trouser whiff so when Obama opened the drawer he copped a load of Bush's internal monologue. I can totally imagine Bush recounting his "prank" to bizarrely still loyal underlings. 'So you know what I did? I totally let one go in the resolute desk. Heh heh heh.'

God I fucking hate him. Still. And will forever more. He was a tool. Irrespective of suspected presidential desk farting.

Monday, January 26, 2009

And how did you spend Oz day?

Personally I agree with Mick Dodson, and congrats man on being Ozzer number 1 for 2009, and we should have a different day for this - say Jan 2 to celebrate federation or something. But I'm still human and I enjoy public holidays.

Naked displays of the flag and Ozzie this and Oi that have been kind of sullied for me - thanks to those Cronulla fucksticks (both sides of the "debate") from some years back. In fact I never really took Oz day to heart anyway. I did as a kid dress up for the costume parade, and actually won the town event three years running. Though I suspect my mum being a journo for the town helped sway the judges' minds (not that she asked for it, I guess they simply sycophantically decided it might play well with her).

We were meant to have a BBQ with our good northside friends but theNoo's cold precluded that. So instead today was spent A) sleeping in (theWife took on the early morning stint bless her specially crafted socks I am not allowed to use), B) watching DVDs and taped TV, C) eating plastic Nachos, and D) Lammos.

So the only Ozzer specific part was D) I guess.

Anyway, Jan 26. This day, some 220 years ago (that right?), 12 ships pulled into Sydney with the intention of solving a penal dilemma.

I think that's kind of neat - since it sounds a bit like penis.

The ships pulled in and Australian Aboriginals would never ever be the same again. Their semi-nomadic primitive communistic culture was dead on the table. Poor fuckers. Here's to hoping both reconciliation and infrastructure development helps fix some of what got broken.

I read something recently, not sure where, about how some Australians feel that they shouldn't have to pay to fix the mistakes of the past when it comes to Aboriginal Australia. It wasn't me, so why should I pay?An indigenous Australian, I forget who, had a simple counter argument. If you are the beneficiary of Aboriginal Australia's loss - then surely you have a responsibility to try and do something to help.

Couldn't agree more.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Haggard some years on

Some of you may recall Ted Haggard. He was a evangelical of a super church in Colorado whose organsation, and he himself, routinely and piously denounced homosexuality as a sinful choice. His church also organised propositions against the advancement of homosexual civil rights.

Later Haggard turned out to have routinely enjoyed gay sex with a prostitute, including fueling his sexy fire with some crystal meth.

Haggard has since been in counselling and is rebuilding his life elsewhere. This article follows up his progress. What's interesting about the piece is Haggard concede failures in both spirit and viewpoint, and seems to understand now that sexuality has a variance amongst humans rather than black and white. He's still with his wife, and his life circumstances are now much like hundreds of millions of Americans where they struggle to make ends meet.

I admit to some schadenfrude when Haggard was outed when he was. Maybe it's a tall poppies Oz thing? Or maybe it's because it's entertaining when a self righteous denouncer turns out to have been arse deep in that which he was denouncing.

At any rate ... it's a good article and well worth a read.


Well ... it's not genius. It's like one of those sketchy home maker tips you see in New Idea when you're in a waiting room and all they have is a woman's mag so ancient that Princess Di is still alive in their world.

Anyway ... and I am sure that others have thought of this ... cards. The problem with cards is they're expensive for what they do. They're like $5 and a one use. They sit around for a week or so in victorious celebration or commiseration of an event whose import eventually fades into the dust of time. Then the card gets chucked.

So ... a solution! Write your message to the person or people in question on a post it note. That way when their date has time faded they can yank your sticky missive from the middle and re-use the card on another person.

Hah! Of course the people at Planet Ark won't like that and will probably send retired tennis players to beat me up. But I will not be silenced!

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Bits N Bobs

Guantanamo to close

There's a rash of articles on the web for this - here's a Wash Post one. A good first step from the new president - who recognised that to fight an idea you need people on your side - and evidence of not playing fair harms that.

I'm going for a walk ... I may be sometime

Today I had to have a bit of a Captain Oates experience after having some KFC. I ate it too fast and it got stuck. After yaking bits up for 20 minutes I decided to try and walk it off - sometimes that helps. So with News Radio on my MP3 I marched up and down along the street along the local park, shifting it around, spitting up gobs of semi-digested battered chicken every twenty metres. Finally, victory, I managed to chuck up the rest in one great hit. It looked like chicken salad. Conscious of the gross factor I kicked some dirt over it. Suffice to say it was all very painful and a reminder, nun with a ruler style, that KFC is bad n'kay. Hey, Captain Oates Experience. Good name for a band.

Guaranteed to amuse

All couples spark off each other from time to time. It's from living with another human being. We're not perfect. And I am sure each of us annoys the crap out of the other with a particular bad habit or quirk. For example, even though I fight the urge, I pick my feet and tend to shove drying skin down the side of the couch. Being snitty is another bad habit. But the fun thing is when you have friends round doing impersonations of your partner. For me theWife sounds like theQueen. I don't know why I do that voice for her but it's amusing to one and all. Hooray!

A dream come true

Today I almost literally had a dream come true. I am a huge nerd - I play D&D even though I am in my mid 30s - and a bunch of other RPGs too. I think it's the best fun you can have with people sitting around a table. If you know someone and you've never done it then you should give it a go. Anyway, I have recurring dreams. Being back at high school even though I am gainfully educated - for some reason I seem to be repeating year 12 a lot. Being the gay shopping friend of Katie Holmes for a brief six week period was another. But the most oft repeated dream I had was being in a second hand bookshop and coming across a huge batch of nerd fuel that was being sold for next to nothing.

Here in Canberra, out at EPIC, is being held CanCon - a wargaming convention. Many nerd stalls come to sell to the assembled throng of gamers. I wish third world hot pants cig girls were also selling wares - but rexona instead of death sticks, but I digress. With the release of the execrable fourth edition D&D, many stores are dumping material for old editions. Some of it goes back to AD&D days.

A and I arrived at 11ish and went to the first stall through the back entrance. Beneath a table were several stacks of 1st ed through 3rd ed D&D product - along with other games. There was a sign. $1-$5 per book. I grabbed a stack of stuff, with my saved up pocket money, and discovered I could get twice as much because any softcover was $2 and hardcovers were $5.

I dropped $70 on books today. And came back with two green bags chockers with stuff. I had a full body high for the longest time. I nearly cried at one point. And I got to buy stuff with A whose one of my favourite fellow nerd travellers. Alas no Traveller material there, some dude in the queue beat me to it.

CanCon also made me feel fit. Because even though many Xs appear before my L in shirt land, there was a vast horde of more enumerate X people than me. I felt ... normal.

Oh - turn up for the books. One of the Ronnie Johns show performer / writers was there. Turns out he's a gamer nerd. Go celebrities being like me.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Miss World finalist's hands, feet amputated

Worst. Talent choice. Ever.

Another turn up for the books

The toilet situation in my new office is a plus and minus. They're further away than the last lot - which I admit is annoying.

BUT ...

I went in for some stall work today and decided on the last cubicle.

Turns out this one has double Jesus bars slotted along the side for lowering purposes. They also make ideal pain paddles, as per a dentist's chair, for extra grip when straining out an arse turkey.

I shall use that stall exclusively from now on.

This P00news was bought to you by Mikey(tm)

Go theNoo

He's finally working out walking - baby steps yet and the occasional arse plant - and feeding himself with a spoon!

Yay for development!

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

No pardon bonanza

I was wrong.

Bush issued fuck all pardons. This blog has been following the issue.

I have to admit I am surprised. Perhaps Obama will pardon people along Truth / Reconciliation lines?

After-all it would be hard to govern with the media peering under that rock. Or maybe easier?

I guess we will see...

bunker buster

n. A bomb that is designed to attack underground fortified positions by penetrating rock or concrete to a certain depth before exploding.

n. The bowel movement I performed at 11.19am which proved to be a surprising conglomerate effort whose pebbling banding together nearly caused my rectal bunker to explode outward and leave a ragged hole where a sphincter once dwelt.

That's a damn fine speech

See a transcript of Pres Obama's inaugural speech here.

President Obama. Wow. That's kewl.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Lèse majesté

Turns out that making a vague statement about Thai royalty can land you in the big house for three years.

Holy snapping duckshit. That's fucked up. Yes, I know, cultural sensitivities and all. But I dislike any curbs on free speech, even those on knuckle dragging white supremacists.

Let's hope they don't find out about this post...

The saddest thing is that the book where the offending passages were located was self published and sold like 10 copies. Poor bastard. Next to no sales AND a prison term courtesy of being dobbed in by 10% of his readers.

If you're curious about the concept of Lèse majesté, wiki naturally has an article on it.

UPDATE: For those of you that like igniting things with money, I recommend against using Thai notes. Because the king's pic is on it. Think I'm joking? See the DFAT advisory.

Unpacking error

While the person who owned my desk before me was busy clearing voicemail I was unpacking. We have these kewl use-again file boxes you can restore into flat mode. I had a wedge of flat boxes and was trying to manuever them in sit along the side of the desk.

At that point I caught the edge of the former owner's skirt and flicked it up past her waistband. Only for a moment, though I was mightily embarrassed. It kind of looked like a cardboard themed recreation of Marilyn Monroe's infamous heating grate dress blow up.

Co-workers seem nice. Whilst going through emails from over Xmas I found a gushing praise filled one for the last report we put out. I pinged it, as I do for all feedback (good or bad) to my supervisor (the new one), as an FYI.

Later that day he sent it to the boss++ with a 'well done to Mikey' addendum.

That never happened in the old area.

It feels weird having supportive management who care about your feelings and want to help you. Like the Bizarro friends episode in Seinfeld. I like it ... but it's strange to me.

Speaking of the old area, I contacted P and asked what they wanted to do about an email address box I looked after. Former bosses hadn't gotten back to me on their decision. I recommended keeping it open because it had a store of legacy info and Outlook is easy to search in. Despite dot pointing all the benefits the former bosses said to get rid of it. Why? Because they just don't give a shit and I am guessing it was too much effort for them.

I spent two hours porting across emails and sorting them for them into the main network folder so at the very least the important topic emails were stored away. Why? Because I am a bitch.

No, that's only part of it. I may disagree with their decision, and indeed many of their decisions, but I don't like leaving a task to be done in a crap manner. By at least setting up this legacy information I have given them a record they can draw on if need be. Even if they don't see its value right now.

Hey ... turns out I have ethics ... and shit*

*A shout out to theWife who likes to add "... and shit" after high sounding statements.

The Dead Terrorist Ringtone

Seriously, what sort of fuckwits would actually pay good money to purchase the rights to use said tone? You know what punters, the fact the narrator has to force out a laugh after introducing said tone says it all about the tone on offer and the people they're offering it to.

Dead Terrorist Ringtone people. The world will likely kill you because your mental deficiencies will put you at a disadvantage.

Monday, January 19, 2009

A conversation with a chemist girl

I just got served by a make up infested chemist shop girl. She was wearing a 'I (heart) Palmers' shirt.

Me - 'What's Palmers?'

Girl - 'It's a brand.'

Me - 'Oh. I thought it was the Palmers family. As in Robert Palmer. He's dead now ... simply decomposing.'

Girl - (no reaction).

Oh come on. Simply decomposing is gold...

An ear worm joy burst

Nut Biscuits

We all have a natural preference for when we sleep. When on holidays I tend to drift into that preference. For me it's from 3 am until around 11 am.

My holidays end this week.

Alas the working world has not caught up to my preference and I am going to suffer sleep deprivation this week as I graduate my return to work. This is going to suck big time.

Still - I get daddy day care tomorrow. Should be fun. As long as he doesn't vomit of course.

I can handle every aspect of baby care - though I admit screaming can get to me - but the vomit ... well ... it's horrible.

Well off to try and sleep. Kind of wish I didn't just shot gun that 375ml can of de-caff diet coke...

UPDATE: Didn't get to sleep before four am I think. Lay there for two and a half hours, marinating in my sweat, dozing in and out and periodically getting up to shake the lizard.

Poor, poor, sweet deluded lizard.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

A conversation with the Good Guys

Upon the purchase of a convection microwave oven and balancing it across the trolley behind theNoo.

Me - 'Wow, he looks like he's driving a truck. Like the truck from Mad Max II - you know the one with the sand, and not oil. Oh crap, I spoiled it for you.'

Good Guy - 'I think most people know that.'

Me - 'You could be in league with the mutants.'

On the way out through the anti theft bippers (where the security woman was waiting as the girl on the counter had informed her the oven was too big to de-bip and the bipper was to go off).

Me - 'Hey it didn't bip!' (lifts up hand to shield mouth and says to theWife in a hoarse whisper) 'Go and get another one.'

Good Guy Security Woman - 'I don't think that would work. I would remember you.'

Me - 'Is it because we're both in red? If we ran off you could put out an alert for two Santas. Although you'd be Mrs Claus [said to theWife]. Mr Santa ... that would be a great porn name. I'm coming to fill your stocking ... '

Good Guy Security Woman - '?!?!?!?!'

Area Man failing to entertain sales workers for as long as he can remember.

Four days until the world gets a Brazilian

I for one am going to have a happy grin on my face when Bush 43 departs the world's stage.

Check out Bush's dodgy farewell to the world here where he actually highlights the absence of terror attacks in the last seven years as his administration's biggest tick.

Yes ... the last seven years. Except of course this "seven years" selection neatly avoids ... September 11. Bush and his fucked up crew comprehensively ignored intelligence and security advice about the possibility of terror attacks and as such got whacked but good on 911. They were the people in government at the time and as such should wear a chunk of the blame (but not all of it - there were systemic administration issues in intelligence sharing that had built up via organisational stove-piping well before then).

Bush even pointed at the Homeland Security department as a feather in his cap ... except of course he and his administration had originally fought it tooth and nail ... as well as the establishment of the 911 commission which found the systemic failures that led to the AQ fucktards getting through the security net.

George Bush is a shit stain of a president. But he does have one deserved feather in his cap - and no, not AIDs relief in Africa which I am sure any administration would have done - and that is being so unpopular and making his party so on the nose that it enabled the election of a liberal thinker who happened to also be bi-racial.

Welcome to President Obama. And as we told the Ruddster ... don't fuck it up.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Fragment (Consider Revising)

Sartorial splendor

While in Woden plaza today, as we neared Wendy's, this old dude walked past us. He was skinny, with a bristly mo, a fedora, a massive empty backpack worn properly, a bright pink shirt, and a deep red bow tie.

Wow. Now that's a memorable figure.


We saw Role Models. What a fully awesome movie. Full marks. Totally worth seeing. They had me at 'Fuck off Miss Daisy".

Deja Vu

I had a burst of the DVs today. My stomach used to lurch and I'd get a momentary blip of unreality when I used to get DV. Now ... nothing.

Something to yell at a group of lawyers

'Show us your torts!'

TheWife didn't think that was funny. You decide.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Quote of the week

"He's a turd. And he can go burgle himself."

The plane! The plane!

Alas one of my all time favourite actors, Ricardo Montalban, has died.

As a child of the 80s, with access limited to two tv channels, Fantasy Island was one of the must watches for me. I fully loved that show. I loved Montalban's accent. I loved Tattoo. I loved the life lessons taught to the wealthy punters. And I couldn't work out if Mr Roarke's power lay in high technology or magic. That is until Mr Roarke, aka Montalban, bested the devil in a soul claiming contest. So ... um ... magic then.

I'd like to paraphrase Tina Fey's remark RE Palin that 'not since Slingblade has come along an accent anyone can all do.' We could all to Montalban and many times, indeed, I would. For obscure reasons. For sheeringly boring domestic reasons - 'I am opening the fridge, would you like anything little one?'

I remember I found out about the death of Montalban's Fantasy Island co-star, Hervé Villechaize, during an exam during my first bout of uni. It was an article assessment exercise and the article in question was an account of the tiny actor's life and tragic suicide.

So both of them are gone now. But they will live on ... in my heart.

Here's an blog post I prepared earlier.


I am on leave and not due to restart in 09 until next week.

However I received an email from P in my old area asking about one of the add on duties I performed in the old area. I offered to go in for an hour and show the poor person, A, who'd been assigned the task how to do it, as well as log her on to the system.

My ex boss+ saw me and A at the computer.

Did he say hello? Did he say thanks for coming in on your holidays? No, he simply sprawled over the partition and grinned saying 'hey A, how would you like to do all the add on admin stuff Mikey did?'

Grin, grin, grin.

Once ex-boss+ left A said to me 'no way. I am new to the job and the youngest person here. How could they expect me to do it?'

Indeed, how could they. Easy, because they're arse hats who have little if any consideration for their staff and think that people are like game pieces that can be moved around a board at whim to perform any and all tasks they could do themselves.

So there you go. None of the management people thanked me for coming in to help out. Not a single one. P of course did, because he is one of nature's gentle people and has a sense of manners.

I asked him as higher ranked person how he had managed to escape being management. He said that he simply had no wish to be like that.

That's something for all of us.

A Beatrix Potter tale I'd like to see...

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Well that figures

Tonight, as we were preparing nosh, we noticed our electric fry pan was no longer working. This seemed to be the third failure of an electric fry pan within a 12 month period.

Cursing I was at the quality of such items when we then discovered the fridge light had failed also.

This naturally led to the conclusion the fuse for the circuit the fry pan was on had tripped. Sure enough a trip to the outside fuse box thingy showed the circuit breaker had indeed tripped.

So what could have caused it? Well I suppose it could be the many, many devices we had hanging off that circuit.

Let's see ... fridge, electric fry pan, kettle, TV in the loungeroom, DVD recorder, TV in the bedroom, the computer, the monitor, the printer, the TV in the end room, the video player, the DVD player in the end room, the alarm clock CD combo, the air conditioner in the loungeroom and ... the air conditioner (portable) in the end room.

That be a whole lot of juice being sucked off that one circuit.

So ... printer is off, the video player is off (it's never really used), the alarm clock (it's the holidays - who gives a fuck what the time is), and the air conditioner in the end room is off now.

It hasn't tripped again so I am guessing that too many items thing was the dealio on that one.

It's good to be back home at last. I have a week or so before back to work. Sleep - ah sweet sleep - that is what I will be doing. Last night I got about three hours due to insomnia, heat, and theNoo arcing up with some patented screaming. So when I clocked off and handed over to theWife (we take it in turns in the hols to get him up), I went back to bed and slept until 1 pm.

Ah the holidays. I do love you so.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

A walking high?

I walked up this steep mo fo hill and got a buzz from it. I still have it - even though I had to pause half way up to catch my breath and have the spots go from my eyes.

Wait ... no ... I just remembered ... I've had pain killers. I only get an exercise high when I am already doped up the ying yang.

Not much to report. Hols with the folks and bro+fam went well. Hanging out with friends in the mountains at the moment.

We played Digital Trivial Pursuit last night. Instead of cards you have a little hand held LCD question reader device which you download questions to from the internet - with scores of topics to choose from. Totally tits. I will get it.

It's confession time. My body is wrecked, I look like a bug eyed potato man. I am never ever going to set hearts afire on looks alone unless the lady in question has a frontal lobe injury - and then that's a mixed blessing since that's where the moral centre is and she'd likely be a klepto like Winona.

The one thing I have going for me is my brain - which is just a tad better than the average person. A tad. My IQ is nothing to write home about - and if I did my mother would suspect me of having a frontal lobe injury.

When I play Trivial Pursuit, and if it's not my turn and I know the answer, I will burn inside to give a hint to that person. Why? To show the world I know the answer.

How pathetic is that?

I remember once some girl wanted to know if I was a mental defective for the hints thing. You know what, she's right. I am a mental defective. Then, the next day, I walked in on her in the bathroom and her undies were fully bunched up her arse crack. Hah! No connection - I just wanted to say that.

In the mountains second hand places abound. Some are for profit, some are for charity. I just went to a place and got a dozen semi mouldy book efforts for $10. All good stuff - including two lift up books for theNoo.

Fuck e-books, they will never ever replace the real thing for moi.

HM signing off.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

Well you can call him Senator Al

Al Franken, my favourite ex SNL alumni, is officially ahead in the official recount. It still has to be officially decided, and likely the GOP will attempt some sort of challenge, but for now it's still pretty kewl.

Arise Senator Al Franken.

Monday, January 05, 2009

Area shoe maker's elf sucks balls

My parents like to play Freecell. It's cute. I think my mum is trying to work her way through all 40,000 games. She's up to like 801.

Last night I noticed she still had a game open. So I completed it for her.

Tonight, again, a game left open.

I thought - 'aw, I can do that again for her! It would be just like the shoe maker's elves.'

Well, not just like. More akin. Since I'm A) not an elf and B) not making shoes from materials left on a counter. Oh, and C) my mum was a journalist / teacher, not a shoe maker.

Still, isn't that sweet of me?

Only ... I just fucked the game up and had to re-attempt it. Which means mum's stats are now one poorer in the lose column.

Bod/Al, don't narc me out.

Twice winged

Stephen King said in On Writing that the prospective writer had to read way more than they write. That they should be constantly reading so as to improve their knowledge of the craft.

He has a point.

However on the hols I typically end up reading non fiction - mostly history or current affairs type stuff. So I am probably breaking the rules RE On Writing. Of course the main rule of On Writing is to actually fucking write - which I am not really doing at the moment. I don't think blogging counts.

Anyway, currently I am reading a book a friend gave me called The Rise and Fall of Nazi Germany by T L Jarman. It was written back in the 50s, but so far it reads well and is an interesting insight into how Nazi Germany came into being given the characteristics of German history and politics that proceeded it, as well as the cultural factors that allowed such an insidious evil to arise.

So I was happily reading away when said tome about the rise and fall of Nazi Germany fell from my grasp ... and planted spine edge down on my left nut.


As noted, I like to yell firsts for the year in the fresh flush of the new year. So in this case first winged nut of the year.

Later, I was rough housing with theNoo. I like to announce to him that I am going to get him, grab him if he gets close, then place him on his back with his head tucked under my chin and tickle the crap out of him.

Naturally he flails as he attempts to get away. It was during this process that his left foot lashed out and ... winged me in the same nut my Nazi history book impacted earlier.

What the hell?!

My poor left nut. It's so, so sore. This may have shades of Godwin, but it seems Nazi Germany is partially responsible for that.

UPDATE: I just realised that the name of the author of my nut seeking Nazi book, Jarman, sounds a bit like Jairmany, which is apparently the pronunciation the infamous Lord Haw Haw of WW2 used for Germany during his inadvertently hilarious propaganda pieces broadcast to the UK. Ah History, why are you so interesting?

Sunday, January 04, 2009


We were playing UNO and my mum didn't believe me that if the person going out plays a draw card then the person who would have received it still has to pick up and the points go to the winner.
God bless the interweb.

From the official(TM) website here.

Ah, the world wide web. Proving mothers wrong in an argument since the early 90s*.

We do have some house rules however. Stacks on is where you're allowed to play a draw card on top of a just played draw card instead of being a victim and having to draw, with the next person in line having to pick up both that draw value and the value before it. Play on is that you don't have to miss your turn if you pick up cards. If you can play a card after picking up then you can do so.

Both variants for a more fun game
*Even earlier if you were a CERN physicist and arguing physics with your mum.

When religion plays the science card

Apparently the Catholic church believes that the pill, you know the thing the ladies use to avoid being sprogged up, is a major cause for men's infertility because girl's wee wee gets into the water.

Here's the ABC report repeated in full (from here).

Contraceptive pill to blame for male infertility: Vatican

The contraceptive pill is polluting the environment and is in part responsible for male infertility, a report in the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano said.

The pill "has for some years had devastating effects on the environment by releasing tonnes of hormones into nature" through female urine, said Pedro Jose Maria Simon Castellvi, president of the International Federation of Catholic Medical Associations, in the report.

"We have sufficient evidence to state that a non-negligible cause of male infertility in the West is the environmental pollution caused by the pill," he said, without elaborating further.

"We are faced with a clear anti-environmental effect which demands more explanation on the part of the manufacturers."

The article was promptly dismissed by several organisations.

"Once metabolised, the hormones contained in oral contraceptives no longer have any of the characteristic effects of feminine hormones," said Gianbenedetto Melis, vice-president of a contraceptive research association, quoted by the ANSA news agency.

The hormones contained in the pill such as oestrogen "are present everywhere... in plastic, in disinfectants, in meat that we eat," added Flavia Franconi, of the Society of Italian Pharmacology.

Pope Benedict XVI in October reaffirmed the Roman Catholic Church's condemnation of artificial birth control.

Contraception "means negating the intimate truth of conjugal love, with which the divine gift (of life) is communicated," the leader of the world's 1.1 billion Roman Catholics wrote on the 40th anniversary of a papal encyclical on the topic.

An encyclical is a letter usually treating some aspect of Catholic doctrine and issued occasionally by the pope.

The landmark document, whose title in English is On the Regulation of Birth, was published at a time when the development of the Pill was giving new sexual freedom to women across the world.

Millions of Catholics distanced themselves from Rome as a result.

Aw ... isn't it cute when the Vatican promotes junk backyard survivalist compound esq "science"?

So, so cute.

As luck would have it, this idea that naughty lady wee wee femms up the fish and those that consume water, was actually used by the NO TO RECYCLING camp in the great Toowoomba plebiscite on recycled water from a couple of years ago.

I'm guessing the people that believe this aren't aware that all water is in fact recycled from something...

Morons should not be allowed to win lotto

Check out this SMH story about a recent lotto winner in the states. The story's hook is that her husband had bought the ticket, but died before it came up as a US10 million big winner.

This is the bit that irks me.

She does not yet know what she will do with the money.

"I've always wanted a Corvette, but I don't think I'll buy one. I'll stick to a small car. I might go to Mohegan Sun," she said, referring to the casino in Connecticut.

She's won ten million dollars. And she may spend it ... at a casino.

What. The. Fuck?!

Seriously, that's fucked. That's like someone winning 20k on a dollar scratchie then using the money to buy another 20,000 dollar scratchies.

Thrill hill de-thrilled

Due to an inadvertent battery drain of the old car, I had to cruise around town and charge it up.

I was cruising around the back end of this here fair burg when I remembered thrill hill.

Thrill hill is at the far end of a large park in a hilly part of town. One side has a gentle slope, the other is quite steep. When I was a teen the trick was to take whatever car you had access to at speed over the crest because you could get it airbourne for a bit before crashing back down for a fairly speedy journey to the bottom.

Once we went over it in a tan 1970s pop up camper van kombi.

My home town lacks spills and thrills so thrill hill was a minor thrill you could enjoy.

So I thinks to myself. Well, I have a car. I need to charge it. I am near thrill hill. Let's gets me a thrill.

Yeah ... it's been a long time between visits for HM and thrill hill. That's when I discovered the council had put one of those slow speed snaking concrete barrier things in to slow your car down to 20 kays an hour before the crest.

Thrill retarding fuckers.

However, from a safety sense, completely understandable.

Saturday, January 03, 2009

Hanging with da nieces

My nieces are pretty kewl. They're 8ish and 6ish. Yes, I should know specifics. I am a slack Uncle.

We were playing post lunch New Years day. I was wearing dodgy slip off thong like sandals - and socks - which meant any speed greater than walking meant a danger of face plantage.

I played stuck in the mud. A wiley niece, the untagged one, was just out of reach. So I moved faster than walking speed ... and face planted - cutting my thumb and earning an elbow ouchie.

Previous to that, I was pretending to be afflicted in order they would let their guard down as I got closer. Saying you can't hear them is a good one because they get exasperated and come closer to you to repeat their insults - then ... GOTCHA!

Only they'd wised up to that. So I thought I'd pretend I had vision problems.


It was a few seconds after that left my voicebox that I realised that it probably sounded a bit dodgy - along the lines of that urban myth re Turning Japanese.

Then, later, while I was sitting on the chair swing with the younger niece, she Spring Break lifted my shirt and declared that I had 'Nice Nipples'.

Let's hope the neighbours managed to avoid calling social services...

Thursday, January 01, 2009

NY Ablutions

I like to happily declare when I have done something for the first time that year. 'First Diet Coke of the year!', 'First vomit of the year!' and so forth.

Well, today, I went to the bathroom. And I don't mind saying that I laid the most splendid stool - the first of the year.

It was basically a happy new year bowel movement from my body to me. I practically danced my way out of the toilet zone - feeling fine in the guts for the first time in ages.

In fact ... all year as it turns out.

Yes, I have already had a vomit this year. Not a proper one. Just an ate too much minor regurg.

Been a good day. Hanging with people I love, eating some nice food, it's a nice temperature, theNoo's been really sweet with everyone and mastered the name of the dog. TheWife has a rosy glow to her cheeks. Aw, it's sweet.

Happy 108th birthday Australia, by the way. Hope it was a good one.

Happy New Year to everyone in blogland too.