Bloody Technology

Perhaps when I was younger, back when I had that iota more patience than I do now, I could sit for hours staring at pixels and writing/rewriting code to make cool scroll over effects to manipulate a box to appear a certain way, only to rewrite it all two weeks later.
That is gone.

On the weekend, I conceded defeat and unplugged my modem from my PC to connect to my laptop to use skype. This pissed me off so fatally because I had previously and painfully created a wireless LAN and set up total secure wireless Internet, file and print sharing.

But eventually the novelty of the laptop wore off, and when I reignited it of course everything had gone to bollocks and for the life of me I don't know how I managed to network it because I don't remember this computer even having a network card.

I'd love to get it working again, but my motivation is ebbing low.

It reminds me of the fact that my phone is dying a slow and annoying death.

And I have now changed my mind from the Nokia N969 to the Samsung G810 (pictured) which is basically the same only 400 bucks cheaper and has a longer battery life.

I managed to send a rather rude sounding (when taken TOTALLY out of context) text message to the wrong person. FATAL ERROR.

Fortunately the text went to the best possible person, a rather liberal minded friend of mine, who found humour in situation, as opposed to say - the very Christian mother like figure from my previous work place.

I recently read that in Israel they had launched a 'Kosher Phone' to cater for the strict Orthodox Jewish community.

The handset has purportedly had the internet, SMS, video and voicemail facilities disabled. Naturally the press have made a misnomer, a device cannot actually be Kosker but it does have the cencorship seal of approval from the 'Rabbinical Committee for Communications'
On the upside the 'Kosher Phone' is cheaper if you call another 'Kosher Phone' (I guess many Hasidic Jews don't have too many Baptist friends) except for the Sabbath when you get $2.44 US per min! Thats hardcore

So it's true she is the Devil

We Salute you our half inflated dark lord! So one of these is a cartoon and one is just plain loony tunes.
The thought of Celine Dion singing AC/DC 'You Shook Me All Night Long' is enough to keep me awake at night.
The song has been covered by numerous people, Kid Rock, Big & Rich, Kelly Clarkson and interestingly enough Shania Twain who's husband produced the song with AC/DC in 1980, but defiantly the most horrifying for me is this incarnation, recorded initally for a VH1 Diva's special with Anastasia (she sort of rocked it) and she now apprently she does it occasionally on stage .

Facebook Strikes Again

So I wouldn't call it facebook stalking... perhaps I will avoid hanging a tag on it at all for my mental health.

So I facebooked a guy I was going out with recently (Central Coast Bee for those in the know) ...everyone does it okay

To find out that he's listed as 'In a Relationship' -

HUH, well then fabulous isn't it.

Clearly nobody (without extenuating circumstances) does this and actually hopes to see a listing of 'Single' and a status of oh say 'xxxx is moping and miserable' but geez you don't want them to be doing better than yourself for goodness sake.

Guess that's another lesson in minding your own business.

Pardon me, do I know you?

Has this happened to you?

You're standing in a semi crowded walkway, or mooching around a bar doorway (in my case the one to the left only with more people) and scanning the room and your eyes settle on a familiar face.

They look back at you, with the same searching look but neither of you can put your finger on a name.

This happened to me this weekend, and if the oppertunity had presented itself I would have approached him to find out who he was.

Recognising someone you think you know isn't quite so unusual when you're at your local but when you're 78.2km from home that seems unlikely, but not impossible when you used live in the area.

Very strange indeed.

Life as a Stripper

So fear not, I have not changed professions or anything.

What I mean here is, a danger I have encountered in my deepest engrained behaviour, stripping off to go to the toilet... before I'm in the cubicle.
I'm used to doing this at home, and at my previous job. But the perils occurs, when working in a large office block where the bathroom is shared by several other offices and dozens of unknown people (because stripping off in front of my co-workers is ok? lol)

I obviously don't mean pulling my pants round to my ankles, but untucking my shirt or even unbutton my pants... WARNING WARNING!

I can't help it! Must become more vigilant, I haven't been sprung yet BUT it can't be too far off surely.

Life as a Movie Reviewer; Sex and the City

Shopping for Labels, Shopping for ... Sex and the City


First as a disclaimer I have to admit I am a fan of the series, and as such have a totally skewed view on the movie.
I also don't want to give away any spoilers for those who have not yet seen it.

The movie starts out almost saccharine sweet, with a whirlwind run down on the happenings of all the protagonists, where the girls are seemingly content and happy for the last several years later.
Like the morning after, happily ever after.

As all the subplots begin to unfurl, it begins entering your consciousness that the movie is struggling to find a format, a medium between series and film.The plot (for my money) was built up to a climax at ‘The Wedding’ – by all the film shorts – but this promoted ‘climax’ happens early on and I was pleased that momentum was not lost when the plot continued.
That scene (you know what I mean if you’ve seen it) was so heart wrenching, it was almost real for me, I think that is the best I have ever seen Sarah Jessica Parker.

I found the addition of the assistant, played by Jennifer Hudson, fluffy but unnecessary to be honest, as the film goes I wouldn’t imagine it lacking if that section of focused subplot was cut. JHud did look good I’ll give her that, all soft bosom next to SJP’s pointy edges.

Of course a review cannot neglect to mention the couture. I read that Carrie wore 83 outfits, and the majority of them were a cacophony of designer labels, over the knee stockings, Eiffel tower handbags, shoe boots and bejeweled and flowered rouched dresses amongst my more loathed outfits.
Carrie’s style has always shot into the ‘eclectic’ stratosphere of course. And love it or hate it but 'that' wedding dress by Vivianne Westwood was a masterpeice.
Charlotte’s style as always was flawless and polished princess which played off Samantha’s sex kitten wardrobe but for my money I applauded Miranda’s look throughout the movie (with exception of leopard catsuit?) and complimented her figure and colouring.

All in all, I found the movie touching and comforting. Like having your favourite jumper returned to you in time for winter.
I didn’t find anything contrite or forced about the performances, and it left me almost wanting more but knowing that I didn’t want any sad sequel.
All in all, a pleasing result.
... always thine, always mine, ever ours...

SEX SELLS... WE GET IT

Look at this woman, shiny and inviting in her polished rubber.

All plump red lascivious lips and smouldering eyes.

A fisherman's hat and fish in hand? Is this I know who you did last summer? The story of a lusty fisherwoman wench?

No. It's the new advertisment Fisherman's Friend you know, those nasty little lollies in paper bags that are supposed; to helped relieve the problems experienced by these fisherman in the freezing conditions.

Honestly, I hate to harp on (actually yes I do, who doesn't love a good harp?) but why are we having products thrust - pardon the pun - upon us like this?

I almost feel prudish commenting on the link between a rubber clad body and a fisherman's friend... the two are synonomous surely? hmm

Arty photos

What do you tend to take 'arty' photos of?

While I do enjoy the obligatory famous scene shot when visiting countries, I also have favourite scenes or objects that I also like snapping.

A lone tree for instance, really captures my imagination and always gets my shutter finger itchy, like wise an ordinary object at close range. Boats, also for some reason – maybe its hereditary as my grandfather enjoyed crafting and sailing boats. So I have created a small showcase of my favoruite 'arty' (farty) shots.


A lone tree 05 Sydney Harbour 06

Polyesian Katamaran Twisted French tree

Garden light through leaf Traditional Thai boat

Life as a PRI'er

Last year on my nefarious Thailand voyage my compatriots and I met many characters, one of which, was 'Big Luke'.
Big Luke and his travelling companion 'Blossom' were staying in our hotel, for want of a better word, when BL introduced us to the PRI.
After a rowdy night out, Big Luke was lounging in pain and suffering by the pool where we noticed a large, bruised wound on his leg – when questioned about it, he shrugged it off, and pronounced it a 'P.R.I', a Piss Related Injury which he had little to no memory of happening in his drunken stupor.

Like hangovers, minor PRI's attract little sympathy, a bruise here, a cut there – sustaining a large enough injury can arouse concern, much like our travelling buddy who came home one morning with what the locals call a "Thai Kiss."
The Thai Kiss (TK), isn't a fruit cocktail (which if you're smart you drink anyway) but rather a burn on the inside of your ankle obtained from a motorbike exhaust.
A PRTK is especially bad, as alcohol numbs your senses just enough to prolong the burn and worsen the situation. Suddenly the mini first aid kit I bought along with my wasn't so hilarious any more.
Unfortunately my PRI was far less ceremonious and involved my foot, a platformed heel and a mob on Sydney streets, where paying attention is clearly out of the question.
I'm left with a boring toned down story about tripping in the city, and an ENORMOUS bruise darkening happily.

Cure worse than the malady?

I've recently had a spate of unfortunate health issues.

At the commencement of my new job, I got a cold. Plowing through my new job sneezing and coughing, and taking over the counter psudoephedrine based products to lessen my pain. Codral and it's ilk have a funny affect on me, I get jumpy when people approach me and end up hanging onto the ceiling like a cartoon cat.
For two weeks, I persisted with the coughing and fevers at 2pm, jumping around like a paranoid junkie before I bit the bullet and saw the doctor.
It ended up I had a chest infection, which he prescribed a short course of strong antibiotics for which left me feeling nauseous (and poor as they were OVER TWENTY DOLLARS) and eventually during the end of the course left me with another unpleasant result of taking antibiotics... if you know what I mean.

SO! Four weeks into my new job and I am healthy, cashed up and jazzed to have a night out on the town with a girlfriend.
After careful budgeting, we stay in the city, go shopping, have dinner then make our way through five nightclubs drinking cocktails and generally making merry.
Leaving the last night club in the wee hours of the morning, we were making our way through the giant throng and my five inch heel makes contact with an invisible four inch hole.
This (at the time) relatively pain free event goes mostly unnoticed until several hours of walking the next day where my foot swells to the size of a football and I cannot walk on it without violent pain.
Kindly my boss insists I go over to the doctor, where she tells me I have probably 'just fractured' the little bones on the bottom of my foot and tells me to get crutches to rest the injury and revisit on Wednesday if it still hurts on Wednesday for an xray.
SO becrutched I hobble back to the office. As it turns out, I am massively rubbish at using crutches (surprise, I think not).
Not only am I still putting weight on my foot, my arms hurt from hauling myself around.
And I am paying $65 for the privilege.