1. If I had to choose between scrabbling around with my fingers, trying to extract the tissue that had dropped flat to the bottom of the box and killing a puppy, there'd be a lot less dog poo in the world.
2. No food could ever taste as good as freshly-cooked chips and gravy smell on a cold winter morning spent doing errands at uni.
3. Katter has exactly what Abbott and Gillard (sorry, Julia) don't: personality and passion. I'm not sure he isn't a dangerous lunatic, but at least he gets excited. I'm fairly convinced that Rudd and Gillard use the same teleprompter
that
only
shows
one
word
at
a
time.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Living Wake for Herr Sennheiser
He is dying. My constant companion is dying.
I hate headphones, but I have loved these ones. My lugholes are large and slightly downturned, so that consequently I have spent my life jamming undersized earbuds into my ear holes to make them stay (and no doubt making the problem worse).
These ... these headphones are different. These are soft, beautiful ear-goggles. Sound quality like a hammer made of solid gold glitter wielded by a funky god.
Yes - I have to endure walking the streets with a tyre clamp strapped to my head.
Yes - for some reason the cord is three metres long.
But it was worth it. I now have trouble hearing in ambient environments, but it was still worth it.
Once I was sitting at the bus stop and a bike courier almost flipped over the front handlebars stopping in front of me.
'Are those HD 457s?' he panted.
'Yes.'
'How are they? I'm really thinking of getting some.'
I actually took them off and let him listen.
'These are awesome!' exclaimed the quickie-post cowboy. 'Just like all the magazines say!'
I smiled, and readied myself to spring at his shaven legs, just in case he tried to burn off with my babies.
'I'm gonna get some right now!'
And he was away in a cloud of deep heat and urgent letters.
This is quite a regular occurrance. Men stop me in the street, dudes with black greasy hair and square handbags make complicated pointing gestures at our ears when I'm wearing them and I actually have to take them off if I'm ever going into Dick Smith (or any other business where Men Who Know A Thing Or Two About Sound Quality congregate). 'Oh yeah - my dad had Sennheisers ...'
Alas, the once-mighty HD 457s are dying. And perishing the worst kind of death for a headphone: the single earphone loose wire.
You start out noticing a lot of cross-fade in your music choices.
Then it develops into some very creative channel selection, bordering on the abstract, until ... that one day ... you know this song plays out of both ear phones ... you touch the plug ... the ear phone works ... then stops ... then works ... stops ... crackles ... works ... stops ...
And on and on it goes. It still works, but only if you hold the wire in a special way and tilt your head and don't move. It's the worst way to die. I'd rather they were run over by a truck.
Especially after holding my neck stiff for an hour on the bus this morning pretending that everything was just fine.
***
The Wrestler - A quick review
The finest performance by the back of an actor's head I have ever seen.
***
GTH - Ashleigh. And Adam gets one point and a further ten if I see the t-shirt. Twenty if wearing the t-shirt at Wimbledon. Kath was going to lose points, but I decided that watching Federer cry because he lost like the perfect sportsman he is was reward enough. Old Man Dom might have received a point if he had had the (peach) stones to comment instead of just emailing.
I hate headphones, but I have loved these ones. My lugholes are large and slightly downturned, so that consequently I have spent my life jamming undersized earbuds into my ear holes to make them stay (and no doubt making the problem worse).
These ... these headphones are different. These are soft, beautiful ear-goggles. Sound quality like a hammer made of solid gold glitter wielded by a funky god.
Yes - I have to endure walking the streets with a tyre clamp strapped to my head.
Yes - for some reason the cord is three metres long.
But it was worth it. I now have trouble hearing in ambient environments, but it was still worth it.
Once I was sitting at the bus stop and a bike courier almost flipped over the front handlebars stopping in front of me.
'Are those HD 457s?' he panted.
'Yes.'
'How are they? I'm really thinking of getting some.'
I actually took them off and let him listen.
'These are awesome!' exclaimed the quickie-post cowboy. 'Just like all the magazines say!'
I smiled, and readied myself to spring at his shaven legs, just in case he tried to burn off with my babies.
'I'm gonna get some right now!'
And he was away in a cloud of deep heat and urgent letters.
This is quite a regular occurrance. Men stop me in the street, dudes with black greasy hair and square handbags make complicated pointing gestures at our ears when I'm wearing them and I actually have to take them off if I'm ever going into Dick Smith (or any other business where Men Who Know A Thing Or Two About Sound Quality congregate). 'Oh yeah - my dad had Sennheisers ...'
Alas, the once-mighty HD 457s are dying. And perishing the worst kind of death for a headphone: the single earphone loose wire.
You start out noticing a lot of cross-fade in your music choices.
Then it develops into some very creative channel selection, bordering on the abstract, until ... that one day ... you know this song plays out of both ear phones ... you touch the plug ... the ear phone works ... then stops ... then works ... stops ... crackles ... works ... stops ...
And on and on it goes. It still works, but only if you hold the wire in a special way and tilt your head and don't move. It's the worst way to die. I'd rather they were run over by a truck.
Especially after holding my neck stiff for an hour on the bus this morning pretending that everything was just fine.
***
The Wrestler - A quick review
The finest performance by the back of an actor's head I have ever seen.
***
GTH - Ashleigh. And Adam gets one point and a further ten if I see the t-shirt. Twenty if wearing the t-shirt at Wimbledon. Kath was going to lose points, but I decided that watching Federer cry because he lost like the perfect sportsman he is was reward enough. Old Man Dom might have received a point if he had had the (peach) stones to comment instead of just emailing.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Bigfoot: BUSTED
I'm sure you've all been paying extremely close attention to the latest unfolding saga of Bigfoot. Famed Bigfoot hunter Tom Biscardi claims to have in his possession a dead bigfoot and is holding it in a freezer. The creature is said to have stood 7 feet and 7 inches.
This was my first clue.
I am a bigfoot believer. I enjoy the idea that there are many amazing and interesting things hiding under rocks, in basements and behind magazine racks that humans are yet to discover. I'm sure 327 will have some kind of science-based problem with this, but he's travelling the werld right now and so right of reply is probably playing second fiddle to right of passage at this time.
Anyway, this bigfoot smells wrong to me. No, not from here. The "undisclosed location" isn't on the island (although it probably could be).
My second clue came when the DNA tests came through. One of the samples was 96% opossum and the other was human. Ringing any bells yet, people?
Three days before the DNA test news broke, another, less-remarkable, sadder event occurred: the world's tallest woman, Sandy Allen, passed away at age 53.
She was 7 feet and 7 inches tall.
She was a human.
She may or may not have been wearing opossum fur at the time, but those grave-robbing bigfoot hunters would have gotten it somewhere.
***
GTH - This was actually just my hand of fury scorching the Royal Brisbane from the face of the earth. I know they save lives but how reasonable are you supposed to be after five days straight of "I'll put a note on your chart and there will be someone here in the morning. In the mean time, just try to hold on ..."
Points go to Kath and Ninja for their amusing stories and to River for creating a new meaning for the picture. No points to Other Sam for playing around with the URLs too much. Maybe it's time you started your own blog dude ...
This was my first clue.
I am a bigfoot believer. I enjoy the idea that there are many amazing and interesting things hiding under rocks, in basements and behind magazine racks that humans are yet to discover. I'm sure 327 will have some kind of science-based problem with this, but he's travelling the werld right now and so right of reply is probably playing second fiddle to right of passage at this time.
Anyway, this bigfoot smells wrong to me. No, not from here. The "undisclosed location" isn't on the island (although it probably could be).
My second clue came when the DNA tests came through. One of the samples was 96% opossum and the other was human. Ringing any bells yet, people?
Three days before the DNA test news broke, another, less-remarkable, sadder event occurred: the world's tallest woman, Sandy Allen, passed away at age 53.
She was 7 feet and 7 inches tall.
She was a human.
She may or may not have been wearing opossum fur at the time, but those grave-robbing bigfoot hunters would have gotten it somewhere.***
GTH - This was actually just my hand of fury scorching the Royal Brisbane from the face of the earth. I know they save lives but how reasonable are you supposed to be after five days straight of "I'll put a note on your chart and there will be someone here in the morning. In the mean time, just try to hold on ..."
Points go to Kath and Ninja for their amusing stories and to River for creating a new meaning for the picture. No points to Other Sam for playing around with the URLs too much. Maybe it's time you started your own blog dude ...
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Poor Old Heath
Friendly Fire's post has some interesting discussion (that I haven't looked into) that indicates that Heath Ledger's death may have been due to a self-medication mishap. It will all come out in the next few days I'm sure.
Days?!? Who am I kidding? Exactly two hours after I first read the supremely distasteful Age website headline "Dead in Bed" pasted tabloid-style over his smiling face (they've changed it now be in line with SMH's slightly more tasteful "Ledger Dies In New York: Pills found near star's naked body"), Mele reported that TMZ.com had posted the actual footage of his dead body being removed from the building in which he died.
I always liked Heath Ledger. Everyone did. I think the reason is because he wasn't a spoof or a character like your Gibsons, your Crowes or tabloid fodder. He appeared to be a professional actor who did his job well and that was about it. No weird churches, no awful publicity stunts and a respectable little body of work behind him. I believe the true measure of a celebrity's popularity is the amount of jokes that are made about their deaths. I'm betting on a score of zero for Heath.
I also have a little story about Heath that may or may not be true because it has been on to me second hand (which isn't bad, really): a few years ago two girls that Mele tutored went to Sydney. While they were there they decided to go to the movies during the day. While they were standing there, trying to pick what movie they wanted to see, one of them looks over and sees a scruffy looking young guy wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses doing the same thing.
"Excuse me," says the girl. "Are you Heath Ledger?"
Heath looks a bit sheepish and quietly admits that he is.
"Are you just here to see a movie by yourself?" she asks. Heath says yes.
"Do you want to come and see one with us?" asks the girl. Heath thinks about it and agrees. So they all buy tickets and troop into the movie theatre together and watch the movie. Afterwards he thanks them for their company and they go their separate ways. Heath didn't have to go to the movies by himself and the girls got a little celebrity story to dine out on for the next few years. I bet they're telling it as I type it.
Days?!? Who am I kidding? Exactly two hours after I first read the supremely distasteful Age website headline "Dead in Bed" pasted tabloid-style over his smiling face (they've changed it now be in line with SMH's slightly more tasteful "Ledger Dies In New York: Pills found near star's naked body"), Mele reported that TMZ.com had posted the actual footage of his dead body being removed from the building in which he died.
I always liked Heath Ledger. Everyone did. I think the reason is because he wasn't a spoof or a character like your Gibsons, your Crowes or tabloid fodder. He appeared to be a professional actor who did his job well and that was about it. No weird churches, no awful publicity stunts and a respectable little body of work behind him. I believe the true measure of a celebrity's popularity is the amount of jokes that are made about their deaths. I'm betting on a score of zero for Heath.
I also have a little story about Heath that may or may not be true because it has been on to me second hand (which isn't bad, really): a few years ago two girls that Mele tutored went to Sydney. While they were there they decided to go to the movies during the day. While they were standing there, trying to pick what movie they wanted to see, one of them looks over and sees a scruffy looking young guy wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses doing the same thing.
"Excuse me," says the girl. "Are you Heath Ledger?"
Heath looks a bit sheepish and quietly admits that he is.
"Are you just here to see a movie by yourself?" she asks. Heath says yes.
"Do you want to come and see one with us?" asks the girl. Heath thinks about it and agrees. So they all buy tickets and troop into the movie theatre together and watch the movie. Afterwards he thanks them for their company and they go their separate ways. Heath didn't have to go to the movies by himself and the girls got a little celebrity story to dine out on for the next few years. I bet they're telling it as I type it.
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An explanation of The Joy Division Litmus Test
Although it may now be lost in the mysts of thyme, the poll below is still relevant to this blog. In the winter of 2008, Mele and I went to live in Queensland. In order to survive, I bluffed my way into a job at a Coffee Club.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
It was quite a reasonable place to work: the hours were regular, the staff were quite nice, it wasn't particularly taxing on my brain.
There were a few downsides: In the six weeks or so that I worked there, there was about a 90% staff turnover (contributed to by my leaving). This wasn't seen as a result of the low pay, the laughability of staff prices or the practice of not distributing tips to staff, rather it was blamed on the lack of work ethic among Bribie Island's youth.
However, one of the stranger aspects of the cultural isolation that touched our lives during our time "up there" was the fact that nobody at my work had heard of the band Joy Division.
The full explanation is available here.
But please, interact a little further and vote in my ongoing poll. The results are slowly mounting up, proving one thing: people read this blog are more well-informed about Joy Division than anyone who works at the Coffee Club on Bribie Island.
