Sunday, May 31, 2009

The Gordian Knot

The Gordian knot was apparently a super hard knot that, when encountered by the famed world conquering ambiguously sexual Alexander the Great, was "solved" by Alexander pulling out his sword and cutting it in twain.

Me? I would have said that was cheating. But the old world said "Kudos" and said knot and Mr Macedonia entered the world of the metaphor for 'a bold stroke.'

But, consider this. What if instead of a tricky knot it had been Gordian's Rubik's Cube eh? The equivalent would be what I did when I was 12 and pull all the stickers off then stick them back on in the solved order. If Alexander had done that we would have rightly said he was a twat and the Gordian's Rubik's Cube would be a metaphor for twattery.

Something to think about.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

And to the tune of MMMBop (as sung by theWife)

Sultanas, you've got tanies,
You are eating tanies,
Taney noos. Woah oh a tanies
You got tanies doot doot doot doot
tanies ... in your gob.

Bunch o stuff

Poo Finger
I've discussed this before, when you accidentally get some leave behind from your leave behind when you wipe.

The other day I didn't just have a hint of shit. I had an entire side finger full - like I'd dipped my index in chocolate hummus. I stared in abject horror at this clinging fecal nightmare then had to frantically wipe it off on the tee-pee. My fingernail still smelled as I had partial underpassing of the horror, the horror under the nail and it took many squirts of antiseptic gel before I was satisfied it was clean. I'm half surprised my finger didn't shoot off, detachable penis by King Missile style, find a tiny bath and tiny wire brush and clean itself raw. Though I don't know how, being a finger, it would have held the brush and manipulated it with the coordination needed for a full finger clean without the benefit of other fingers and thumbs assisting.

What the fuck is this shit?
I'm paraphrasing but that was the gist of my meeting with my boss. When I moved internally in my org I took with me a horrible financial thing that I have no skill or interest in running - but my org invested money in setting it up and I believed I was obliged to keep it humming. Info needs to be updated so I had a meeting with my boss about it. My boss - "I don't understand this at all. You could explain it to me six times and I still wouldn't. Is this our core business?" Me - "No". The Boss - "Write me a brief recommending how we approach this 'issue'. We may keep doing it, we may not". Subtext - fuck this shit off.

My boss is gold.

The meeting
I really shouldn't chow down a can of diet coke in a meeting. Because if it runs more than 20 mins I have to factor in leg crossing. Indeed this happened today.

Me - upon standing - 'Hey guys, so sorry but I really have to go. It's shot right through me. It's like a coffee percolator you know - bubbling black...'

The Others (in chorus) 'Arrgh - too much, just go, just go!'

I realised after I left they must have thought it was an impending twosie. Fortunately, no poo finger.

Urinal
I know this post has degenerated into tales of the toilet, but lads. When at a urinal ... and it's a sheet metal one not a shell .... and the metal is dry ... do you crab walk along while streaming so you soak the metal from edge to edge? I know I do.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Pwned - in cake form

I was at a seven year old's BD and one of the kewl activities was decorating cup cakes. M, who is nine (I think), wrote 'I heart school'.

Naturally I teased her for being a huge zen riddle of a suck - as in if a teacher can't see you sucking up then how do they know you applied lips and drew in air?

One of the other mums also decorated a cake then pointed to it.

'Mikey loves work.'

'What?' I thundered. 'I do NOT.'

Then she pointed at another cake.

'He really does!'

Pwned. In cake form. Gold.

Favourite Puppet

The one, the only, Gus the Snail

























This does not include muppets.

A door too far

I've been using the long way around to get past the triumvirate of the fucked. But, like an idiot I got cocky and I risked going the short way coming back from the lav.

When I heard the dulcet tones of man hands booming behind me I practically had to John Woo through the doorway in case he saw me.

Worst. Relocation of offices. Ever.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Presentation is the key

When I was a kid in 2nd grade, my local school had some sort of contest. It was to present info about Greece. Most kids made up posters with pics cut from mags and badly written factoids about that fine and ancient nation.

Even back then I knew in order to stand out from the herd you needed to look special. I can remember I had this brainwave - instead of pics stuck on cardboard posters. My poster would lie flat and the pics would be on cardboard stands that would be perpendicular to said poster.

Amazing eh? Year two and I thought of that.

Eventually came the day the assembly hall had the posters up. I went to see my poster.

I had naturally assumed they would see the majesty of my perpendicular pics and display my Greek laudatory accordingly.

I was wrong. The fucktards in charge of displaying them simply stuck it to a wall - the perpy pics facing towards the floor.

Lesson one. Never ever assume something you've designed will be displayed the way you wish it to be displayed if you don't give instructions.

The other day I noticed someone had placed up pics of their 'beautiful home' on an A4 piece of paper, put it in a plastic sleeve, and strapped it to the road sign on the concrete divider of a road. It exhorted the passerby to go to Allhomes.com and check out the suburb to see more info.

The pics had already gone blue from sun fade - in the manner of photos of food in low rent corner stores whose owner had their cousin take some 20 years ago, or promotional posters featuring the slutty chicko roll bike chick circa when Top Gun premiered.

So, lesson two. Update your fucking signage or, in the case of efforts like Mr Road Sign, consider the effects of the sun on your promotion of your "beautiful home".

This is HM, striking a blow for visual asthetics, signing off.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

There's a hair in there...

I get a recurring hair out of my nose freckle (which is right on the bump) and one out the side of my ear rim. I have to pluck them out every month or so.

What the fuck?!

Stupid no evolutionary purpose.

Interesting

I passed Backy McStab in a corridor. She didn't say a word. Neither did I. Planning on not saying anything beyond a grunt if she does.

Still avoiding that passage of loathing however.

Monday, May 18, 2009

A moment in couple time

We were playing Warlords II, a turn based strategy game from the mid 90s, when theWife gave a shriek of disappointment.

TheWife - 'Oh no!'

Me - 'What, was it your hero [dying]?'

TheWife - 'Yes.'

Me - 'Was it the one with the ring of travel [doubles movement]?'

TheWife (sadly) - 'Yes.'

She finishes her go and I hop on the computer. I know she has two heroes and look to the region where I'd seen one of them - the one I knew had the ring because of its zooming across the map.

Me - 'Oh, you got your other hero there to grab his stuff [if a hero is killed their magic items stay in that square].'

TheWife - 'Er ... yes.'

Then I looked around the map. There was another hero of hers in another part. She should only have one.

At that point I realise that after the loss of her hero with the ring of travel she'd simply reloaded the game at the last time we saved and replayed the move.

Devious sneaky cheaty cheat.

I don't trust her with the Monopoly Bank either. She's the sort of person that would palm $500 bills then surreptitiously leaf them under the board and access them later when the heat was off.

And now a whine from Pyne

I was listening to my trusty now elderly MP3's radio function when on news radio I heard Christopher's lilting voice offend my ears.

He was having a whinge about the community cabinets.

The nearest online link I can find is his own (go here - if you must).

In the interview itself however Pyne had a spit about the idea of hosting community cabinets then noted that 'Canberra is the capital where cabinet is supposed to meet.'

Really Pynie? Really? Why is it then Howard hosted numerous cabinet meetings in Sydney, at great public expense, and how about his decision to live in Kirribilli instead of the Lodge cost the tax payer 20 million dollars? I look forward to your whinge about the excessess of the Howard years.

Instead you bitch about a road show for democracy, letting irate pensioners who typically only ever fronted up to the Pauline tour, have a spray, and then you make snide comments about Rudd being mean to a hostess and using hair spray.

Un-fucking-believable. As indeed is your tremendous scare campaign on the deficit trying to make it out like you would somehow not have down exactly the same.

No wonder your party is a giant wank fest.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

And I ran ... I ran so near away ...

I am a pudgy sedentary type who hates physical movement with a passion, hates sport, and pretty much wishes being fat was a status symbol like in the old days when puffy types got lauded in portraiture.

Except ... well that's not going to happen.

So I walk. Sometimes I walk fast. The other day ... I ran. Yes, me. I jogged. Not much. Just a couple of hundred metre stretches here and there.

Now, two days later, my thighs are still in agony from the unpleasant surprise I foisted on them. They don't mind the walking, they understand the walking. But running?! Running really pissed them off.

I don't blame them.

Some people weren't meant to run. Me with my fucked knees, flattest feet ever, pot belly, and ape like gait is one of them. If there was a war on not only would I not be drafted I'd get a coupon for a free fucking sundae by the poor medical testing arseholes as tsk, tsk I'm sorry for your poor body shape compensation.

Running blows chunks.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

It appeals to the 'tee hee, boobs' in me

Despite being a person of letters, with quals and all, I am easily amused by potty talk. Rodney Rude is one of my all time favourite comedians for example.

When reading a book I like to know about the author. So chances are along the way of reading their work I will give them an exploratory wiki.

I recently wiki'ed Robert Louis Stevenson, following reading Kidnapped which as irony would have it was liberated from my parent's bookshelf on a recent visit (well - not that ironic - I asked if I could).

Not only did RLS marry a woman called "Fanny" (which to us English (UK) types is the vag BTW statesiders), but his nurse was given the delightful nickname of ... cummy.

Tee hee, boobs indeed.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Nice one fckwits, it's almost as if you'd never been in an evacuation

You know how in airplanes they say 'leave your luggage behind if we have to evac the plane?' Makes sense right? I mean people first and all that.

Recently my building had an evacuation. Now in the defence of people re luggage you're supposed to take your bag + jumper + basic personal effects (keys, wallet - not the pics of your kids) etc in case you can't come back in.

But you're not supposed to walk down the stairs with fucking coffees in your hand. Not only that, you're not supposed to call attention to the fucking coffee by announcing loudly to everyone else crammed in the fucking stairwell that you're glad you have said fucking coffee with you because 'it's cold outside'.

What kind of moronic fucktard do you have to be to not realise that all it takes is one spilled coffee on a stairwell packed with people to turn an orderly evac into a right shemozzle?

Seriously, grow some fucking brains people.

I emailed my local coloured hat person and asked them to ask the big evac cheese to remind people next time NOT TO TAKE FUCKING LIQUIDS ON THE MOTHER FUCKING STAIRS.

That is all.

Form related fox po

I had to leave a form for a colleague who is away today.

Me to co-workers after hearing she is absent.

'Oh, okay. I will leave it lovingly draped over her keyboard...'

As I walked back to my workstation my FP obsessed brain pointed out the "it" in that statement could have been misconstrued so I added a rider.

'... by it of course I mean the form.'

Then I realised that all this did was call attention to the initial it and recast it in a dodgy capacity.

Nice one.

Mendozaaaaaaaa !

I've worked a few jobs in my time. Most consistently as a public servant. Like any job occasionally you will run into jerks, tools, fuckwads, morons and a whole cavalcade of what-the-fuck types and you have to ask yourself how it is they work in the same org as you.

In my blogging time I've mentioned three disagreeable people I've worked with;

Backy McStab, a former boss who when serving as my referee told the panel I should never be promoted and that I was effectively useless (the irony being I was actually going for a job one level less than my current position because it was in an area I wanted to work in).

Buckwheat - a colleague so inept she didn't know how to insert tables into a word doc and actually had arranged with Backy McStab to pull me out of work for an hour to drive to a conference room facility and hook a laptop and a lightpro together. She was also the one that liked to use delightful terms like abbos, blackfellas, and poofs when describing people of a different genetic or sexual persuasion to her.

Manhands - my giant ex (temporary) immediate boss who at one point laid his dinner plate sized hands on my stomach and rubbed it vigourously (though apart from his wandering hands and dodgy practices is a decent person).

All people I'd hoped I would never ever have to see again, let alone work with.

Outside my work area there was a band of work stations and offices that had lain idle for sometime. A year I believe. Today I discovered they'd been filled... by a section that for some bizarre turn of luck contains all of the fucking above.

They are on the direct path to my office area and thus I am forced to indulge in conversations with these people - luckily yet to include Backy McStab. Which is good because I admit to having had a number of fantasy conversations with said BM over the years where I screamed carefully tailored devestating abuse at them for costing me a career path I spent a long time developing.

Fortunately there's a longer back way to my desk that will mostly avoid them, though worst luck I have to share the kitchen with them.

How fucked is that!?

Mendoza indeed.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

What's in a name?

When I play Warlords II, a game released in the early 90s and still played by moi on his PC, sometimes I like to have pun names. If playing White, whose serving suggestions are all Sir Ector and Sir Kay etc I change it to pun-laced Sir types. Sir Pent, Sir Loin, Sir Cumstance etc. Ho, Ho. Most amusing and droll. Pun names also work in tongue-in-cheek fiction, such as characters in the Bond books like Pussy Galore or Holly Goodhead.

Where a pun name doesn't work is in real life ... in case something bad happens to you and unless your pun name relates to the bad thing that happened then it simply becomes marked by its difference to the norm (and a media sensation if it is related - eg Mr Portaloo crushed by a building site lav).

I can remember some drug dealer in QLD getting caught whose first name was 'Sir' - thus when giving his full name sounded like a knight of the realm. I bet that earned some guffaws down at the station when he got booked.


Think about it parents. Don't curse your child with a pun name. Or yourself ... if you're choosing your own one. Like that dude I knew at uni who changed his name legally to Dexter Von Virgin (or somesuch) allegedly because the cost to name change was cheaper than paying a phone bill and this way he could get a new account.

UPDATE: I''d actually listed a specific person whose death prompted this post because of a pun name - which she apparently gave herself via deed poll. I've been asked to remove that in this instance. She seemed like a decent person (which was noted) and kudos to the person who signed in and asked for the change.

Fire in the hole

This town needs an enema - The Joker, Tim Burton's Batman

I've been bunged up for the past few days, courtesy of taking codeine. Combined with IBS it's pretty bad pain. I suppose it's akin to a period but without the joy of knowing a period will come to an end.

Finally, after four days of wretched pain and without proper pain meds, I went to the doc.

Her solution ... enemas.

So I told the work lads I wasn't coming in and prepared for the brown tide. I had one of the crappy towels on the bed, my book, and the microlax - which looks like a long nosed liquid paper bottle - and got ready to party. You pinch the tip off the micro-lax then squeeze a bead of gel out to lube it, then insert up the arse until the bottle snuggles up against the Anus.

Then squeeze.

Ladies, I don't know how you can stand to have things inserted in you. I know, biologically that's the way with the miss portion of the population, but being an exit only type it was unpleasant. As indeed was the hot rush of jelly I then squirted up my clacker.

My guts churned for a while and I could feel it building. Finally I did a tiny micro-exploratory fart to gauge if I needed to make for the toilet.

Turns out I did ... as the micro fart had micro follow through.

So with pants dropped and arse cheecks clenched I duck waddled for the lav then let fly.

WHHHOOOOSSSSSHHH.

It only cleared out the initial stages of the backlog (ha ha). The stuff that's actually in the final stretch before the light. I still have a lot to go - but have many tubes if I need it.

Also, turns out all that fibre I've been taking makes the problem worse if you don't drink water afterwards. I suppose it's like weetbix when you don't add enough milk. So I got that going for me.

Another saucy arse tale from HM's tail bought to you by Harrangueman(tm).

Harrangueman(tm) - experiencing unfortunate bowel movements since as long as he remember.

UPDATE: Attention Microlax users. Many hours after using the Microlax, when farting be prepared for possible follow through .... because you will get follow through...

Sunday, May 10, 2009

TheNoo Goodness

We'd finished watching the recent ep of The Family Guy that had surfing bird in it.

Me to theNoo

'Are you aware that the bird is the word?'

TheNoo (after a slight pause)

'Yes.'

Seriously. A clear as a bell yes. Lightning didn't strike twice but still, that was amazing. He's a little wordsmith!

Friday, May 08, 2009

Stupid poetic justice

I typically take two or so cans of Diet Coke to work with me to have over the day. I need the caffeine pick me up (even though it's only 1/3 of a cup equiv). But, as punters know, I am a lazy shit - and often I can't be arsed transferring the cans from my chill bag in the greater bag to the work fridge.

There's two social club fridges in my break out area. One belongs to us ... the other to them. It's like the bordellos facing off each other in Deadwood, except people don't get fed to the Chinaman's pigs.

Ours is better, though is less well stocked, because I only pay $0.80 a can for being a member instead of the full buck.

I digress.

So knowing there's cans available I have the luxury of letting my cans marinate to room temperature. For if I want a coldie all I have to do is waddle around to one of the fridges and swap my hot one for a cold.

I know, that's a bit wrong. It's not stealing ... but it is ... morally ... pretty rubbery.

With our fridge dry of DC I went to the other rival social club. Their fridge drawers packed tight with DC goodness. I bent down, chuckling, and swapped my can for a cold one.

Whereupon I stood up and smacked my head fair into the edge of the fridge roof. As a partial baldy it managed to catch me right across my Friar Tuck esq bald patch - so I didn't even have the cushiony benefit of hair.

There was a collective intake of wincing from punters in the surrounds and I was irrationally terrified that they might think I was stealing since I didn't put any money in the tin. Not that I had to for a can swap but I had a coldie in hand and the expected tinkle of coin into box had not happened and they may have thought the worst.

I rubbed my sore noggin and made an igor esq dash for the safety of my office area.

Stupid poetic justice! Damn you! Damn you all to hell! (pounds beach).

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Fox Po'ing it up, old school

We were talking about local cafe staff. One of them is a big burly bald guy with a goatee (looks like the Barman from no heroics). Someone said is name was Al - and he's the guy I typically buy bain-marie Asian lunches from.

Me?

'Oh, that's Al. He's the guy that feeds me the battered pork ... oh man, that didn't sound right.'

I swear blind that it was unintentional.

I have an ungift....

Terrible Op Sec

From a news story about a man who is alleged to have plotted with his girlfriend on the side Mirvat to murder his wife.

It was also revealed that Ms Rolls had discovered a tattoo on her husband's chest in the shape of a heart, with the name "Mirvat" inside it.

Worst. Hiding of Adultery. Ever.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Adios my little purple friend

As a chubbo, or as I like to say 'a generously ampled type', I tend to wear out clothing - specifically pants. You see by having larger legs they rub together more.

Indeed, by being short and fat and a harry high pants wearer it means the crotch of my pants tends to get even more thigh rubbing than usual.

I've had my purple PJ pants for a long time - like sleepwear for the Joker. They had character - one cuff was ragged from having been caught on a bed once. They were my "Golden Boy" for bed cavorting covering of the legged area.

Alas ... crotch blowout. They'd worn thin and a ragged strandy hole had appeared. Unfortunately the hole was right at testes viewpoint when seated and a bit of hairy brain was once ler-ing out the gap.

So to the pants grave (the bin) they went. I briefly considered resurrecting them as rags ... until I decided I didn't want something that had lovingly held my groin in place being then used to clean up things.


Good-bye purple PJ pants. You served me well.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Confirmation bias

I sometimes suffer from magical thinking. You know, superstition, avoiding topics because you could jinx it ("break a leg"), if I manage to throw this into the bin then I will get the job etc. I try and avoid it, but it is insidious. I think we do have a god spot, a bit of our brain that looks at the world and tries to cram it into patterns and where there's unexplained coincidence then we link it to the supernatural or unreality.

I also suffer from a bit of confirmation bias.

Because everytime I want to cross the fucking road it seems I have to wait for a fucking car. So anytime that happens it helps to confirm a belief that it happens to me more often than it should.

I've been walking everyday since early June. I try and maintain a steady pace. It's not a pleasant experience for me - I don't enjoy it that much (though on occasion - usually when dosed on pain meds - it hasn't been totally unpleasant) - but I do it because I have to. Not because I want to.

So when I have to stop for a car to pass - and this interrupts my pace and reminds me of how much pain I am in and irritated by walking - it fucking shits me.

Again, this sounds a bit tinfoil hat, but sometimes I suspect that there's a bunch of cars shadowing me - Truman Show style - that are there solely to zoom along the road when I want to cross it.

Stupid exercise. Where's that fucking pill that means I don't have to do this?! Come on Mad Scientists - get onto it.

Saturday, May 02, 2009

Friday, May 01, 2009

Watchable Teev

I don't watch that much TV, though I do love TV (I have five - which means I have to set top box all those fuckers in the next few months).

I typically only watch quality Teev, admittedly that's subjective opinion. One man's Whitman's Sampler is another man's Roses (chocolates). If quality teev is not available then I watch DVDs.

Recently I came across TV series The Shield, courtesy of my local video store when I realised that the TV Series shelf actually wrapped around and offered far more than the paltry remnants I thought it had (I didn't twig for about six months that they seemingly ended at the letter G).

I enjoyed Seasons one and two so much that when I saw Big W had seasons 3,4 and 5 for $16, $16, and $19 I took a heady plunge and purchased them.

Totally worth it. Quality acting. Quality plotting. Great characters. Full marks The Shield makers.

Good on you Kalpen

We were watching House, an eminently watchable medical drama (I don't usually watch them as a rule), when in the first act one of the main characters was revealed to have been shot dead.

I was somewhat surprised. Given there was no close up of the body (just a shot of legs through a doorway), I assumed that it was because the actor in question who played Lawrence Kutner, was either fired or deceased.

Once the prog was ended I leaped Gazelle like for the intertubes to find out what the skinny was.

Turns out said actor, one Kalpen Modi, who also stared in the two Van Wilder movies and as Kumar in the Harold and Kumar films, will soon have a new job ... as Associate Director of the White House Office of Public Liaison. He had to be written out of the show as a result.

Kalpen it seems was a politically active dude, spruiked for Obama, and will take on a government job given the O-meyster won his.

Good on you man. Glad to see not only were you not dead or unemployed but will be gainfully and wondrously employed.

I'm assuming this also puts paid to your sterling work as Kumar. Which is a shame, because you're a funny bastard.

What's with the gibberish in spam emails?

I'm not an IT expert. I know about computers, I use them, I understand some of the basic communication issues that arise out of their use.

But for the life of me I don't understand why some Spam emails come loaded with gibberish text.

For example - from a recent email to me titled "We will not let your masculinity disappear so fast."

Below the graphic of the el cheapie Mexican knock offs of stay hard or last longer pills comes this text.

ten months after we were married i was a stay at home mom living the student life again while grant went back to school a few months later another unplanned event- my mom passed away suddenly

i am determined
snacks NUTS i would die without nuts i love roasted almonds cashews peanuts i also love those roasted edamame they taste like nuts even though theyre not and nuts taste really good with a few slices of swiss cheese also deli meat slices celery with peanut butter on it a few whole grain crackers with cheese beef jerky sugar free snack packs stuffed mushrooms hard boiled eggs string cheese protein bars crudites and more NUTS

i love all the sweet artistically talented bloggers that offer free downloads around holidays for us readers
at 18 i planned to live the tahoe hippie life forever one day i felt compelled i knew it i just had to leave i packed up my car and moved to the central coast

well as it turns out it was me who needed her the most i think if the test of the greatest among us is the one who will be the servant than penny wins in this houseok animal peoplei get it i really really get it
where are neighborhoods like that anymore with bushes big enough to hide in and kids that go around the block together all afternoon and normal sized houses and the old winkfields next door ok i dont need the winkfields but id sure love to give my kids the rest

seriously though my closest friends are fun real and honest good entertaining in love with life a little crazy down to earth deep and incapable of bs vow
it was the first time i realized that things dont always go how you think they will and that it all can turn out better than you imagined

feeling so inspired
1 make stuff knit 2 april 3 fond of 4 Crochet Stack 5 noon 8 6 layering 7 7mos 8 afternoon 9 sleepy mama 10 waiting for me 11 Theres only one captain on this boat 12 Very Special Scarves 13 Michelle Williams ♥ 14 new drawing corner 15 the other side 16 Untitled 17 pride and joy 18 steven alan imitation 19 atthestove 20 Untitled 21 film207 22 hi 23 Working 24 Lashes 25 s t i l l morning quiet time 26 anthem for a 17 year-old girl 27 Untitled 28 reasons for staying 29 Untitled 30 book girl 31 Untitled 32 ships ahoy 33 juk box 34 35 grapefruit & new curtains 36 gams

say hi to gilbert and the kids with love km

??? Why do these emails have this stuff in them? What purpose does it serve?

IT types in the know, in the words of Homer, explainhow.

More cute TheNoo antics

We were beetling along the highway in our new car, affectionately nicknamed Disaster Area for the band from Hitchhickers, when we passed a couple of long semis with giant poles mounted on their trailers. So long indeed they had before and after cars with lights telling us all about it.

We laughed at their size.

From the back came the voice of theNoo, joining in.

'AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ... pole.'

Seriously. A big villain style mwa-ha-ha belly laugh, a pause, then a sotto 'pole.'

Hilarious stuff. He did it a few more times when prompted. He's a funny little man.

Taking one for the team

In times of global financial crunching, aka negative growth (why they can't say shrink is beyond me), it is up to those who are financially capable of doing so doing something for the economy at large.

I've made much (well, some) of having a shitheap of a car. We've always had shitheaps. Well, that's not true. Some have been shitheaps. Others have been reasonable 2nd hand cars that lasted a while. In fact we had a delightful 2nd hand mazda that alas we wrote off when we rear ended an older car with a fuck off large towbar.

Anyway, of late we've had a 20+ year old Mazda that was on its last legs - despite a replacement engine. Pipes need changing, the aircon fan rattles, the thermostat is unreliable and the car actually leaks during rain - with water dripping on the driver.

We'd had enough. TheWife put on her calculating pants and did some investigating. It turned out having a leased new car was financially more sensible than the ad hoc repair of Mr Shitty.

So ... area couple have a new car. The old one will be sold off (with issues made known) at a low, low price. I'm sure it will get bought since it has some rego on it. I think that's how it works at any rate.

It's the first new big ticket item we've bought in a while. And I have to say ... it is awesome having a new car. It has mod cons in it like controls on the steering wheel for the stereo (instead of that blind man feeling the face of a new friend fumble at the controls method in the old effort), and cruise control that is simple and easy to use. It even has a doodad for the MP3 player to hook into the stereo. The glove box can hold more than just three maps, the manual and (presumably) gloves. The foot well for a short arse like me means I can stretch out. And we don't have to pray the car will make it up a hill without overheating like the last effort.

In short ... awesome. Don't bother thanking me leading economists for taking one for the Australian economy. I'm just happy we were able to do our part in stimulating things by buying an imported car and ... oh ...

Imported ...

Nothing to see here, move along.

On a side note we had the car less than a week when we backed it into a pole. Needless to say we were somewhat upset...