...fried rice

Poor Stephanie Rice. She tweeted "suck on that faggots!" in the excitement of Australia beating South Africa at some game involving a ball or something. I'm so offended. Young people never spoke like that in my day.

She has since apologised, saying at a tearful press conference "I've learnt a lot in the last couple of days". I sure hope you have Stephanie...

Lesson 1. Don't drink and tweet
Lesson 2. Don't tweet


*Disclaimer: This post may be just a thinly veiled excuse to upload a gratuitous swimsuit shot of Stephanie Rice

...i like stories

I presume everyone has a friend (or maybe it's you), the kind whose life is like a finely scripted black comedy. The friend who is terribly unlucky in a variety of endeavours, though usually from backing the wrong horse, often with hilarious results. A friend who's life Shakespeare could have written another two decades of tragi-comedies about.

I have a friend like that, but fortunately he has a great sense of humour regarding the regular mini-disasters that pepper his life.

This friend, let's call him Peter, has dog with a human name, let's call him Phillip. Phillip is a labradoodle, and in the free-spirited manner of his owner, is completely untrained. Well Pete's mother came around one Sunday morning to visit him and his two kids, who stay at Dad's every second weekend. This Sunday morning Pete flushed the toilet after using it, only to find it blocked, and its latest contents came spewing up and out across the floor. After a while of running around with scoops and mops, plungers etc. in an unsuccessful attempt to unblock the loo, Pete's mum revealed that she needed to use the toilet, and rather urgently. Pete had until this point resisted calling the emergency plumber, being in a rental with a lousy landlord and thus no good prospect of getting the bill refunded. But mum couldn't wait any longer by this stage and very crossly headed out the back with toilet paper in hand. She returned a while later saying "I hope you're happy, making your old mum have to go to the toilet outside!". As Pete recounted to me, it's bad enough having your dunny flood your house without your neurotic mum having to crap in your backyard".

A short time later Phillip came bounding through the backdoor, looking pleased as punch. Pete bent down to pat his beloved pooch, and then the smell hit him like brickwall. Phillip looked up, brown smears around his mouth which could literally be described as a 'shit eating grin'.

At this stage of the story I was on the floor, my sides hurting. Pete laughed "It's bad enough that your toilet floods and your mum shits in your backyard, without your dog eating it".

...dickheads

It would seem that government is moving closer to introducing legislation to prevent dickheads from engaging in their dickhead ways in public, or at least from annoying non-dickhead folk with their dickhead behaviour.

This may be a step in the right direction. The rules for the two annual music festivals held at Meredith for childless rock types (no glass, no fires, no dickheads) work surprisingly well. The dickheads are the ones who bring glass and light fires. But in the wider community, the problem lies in identifying who is indeed a dickhead and therefore worthy of prosecution. One hurdle is that the majority of participants in all levels of government (particularly local council) may be affected by these laws, so it is unlikely they will be implemented anytime soon.

But we already have laws for 4-wheel dickheads, aka hoons. People caught for DDD (Dangerous Dickhead Driving) can have their cars or motorbikes impounded for 24 or 48 hours, and can even have their vehicles permanently confiscated on their third offence. But after a few years and thousands of cars confiscated, judging by the regular near death experience that is driving up the Mahoondah Hwy on a Saturday night, I am left with the feeling that the laws just aren't coping. So I'm advocating a return to an old-fashioned approach of policing.

A recently heard a story that many years ago, a young driver was caught doing a big burnout on a public road. Rather than put him in a conga line of dickheads bound for the Magistrates Court, he took him back to the cop shop, gave him a bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush and ordered him not to leave the scene of the crime until he had cleaned every last bit of burned rubber of the road.

There were less dickheads around then, which I suspect is largely due to the important fact that a young man would rather have his car confiscated and/or be jailed than clean up after himself.

...when you have a really, really, really long post heading, so long that's it's even longer than the post itself

I look good as a thumbnail.



Oh wait...

that's not actually me.

...boris johnson

I couldn't resist this story I found on the ABC website...

Teachers and parents have criticised a British couple who allow their children to go to school unsupervised.

Oliver and Gillian Schonrock allow their eight-year-old daughter and five-year-old son to cycle the one mile (1.5 kilometre) journey to school on their own. The couple taught their children a route on pavements through the backstreets of the London suburb of Dulwich to teach them independence and self-confidence.

But parents and teachers at the children's junior school say it is irresponsible and dangerous, and the school has told the couple it can refer the matter to social services.

London mayor Boris Johnson has slammed the health and safely rule as "barmy", writing in a newspaper column that he commends the Schonrocks for "taking the sword of common sense to the great, bloated encephalopathic sacred cow of elf [sic] and safety".

I think I like Boris Johnson, the Lord Mayor of London. Even though he's a tory (and I'd hate him if he was my local politician) he's a bit of an outspoken nut (the hair is a giveaway), which I think is a good thing for a Lord Mayor to be. A good Mayor should be a bit eccentric, more clown than politician, to spruik a city, to turn heads. Robert Doyle is starting to warm to the job here in Melbourne. He would have made a lousy Premier, but with his anti-bogan rantings and his April Fools jokes (announcing on morning radio that he'll be building a waterfall and trout fishing pond on the Yarra outside the casino), he's got enough fruit loop in him to serve well. Perhaps the job of village idiot is still alive and well.

Here's some more of Johnson's work...

• In 2003 Johnson was investigated for the theft of a cigar case belonging to Tariq Aziz, one of Saddam Hussien's cronies. He eventually returned the case at the owner's request.
  

• In April 2007 Johnson was called upon to resign by the MPs for the city of Portsmouth after claiming in a column for GQ that the city was "one of the most depressed towns in Southern England, a place that is arguably too full of drugs, obesity, underachievement and Labour MPs"

• At the conclusion of the 2008 Olympics, Boris gave this famous speech at London House in Beijing. It's an absolute pearler (you can skip the first half of the vid if you are short for time)...

...interesting times

So I've...

-Wormed and flea'd the cat
-Got briefly addicted to Second Life before my first life got interminably busy
-Survived Christmas, 5 large meals over three bloody days (those Christians are gonna pay!)
-Came a few facial ticks away from quitting my job
-Took Mingus Von Stinkbum to the cattery
-Went camping at The Prom with 7 friends and 5 family members (Dances with Wombats)

-Survived camping at The Prom with 7 friends and 5 family members
-Helped my brother-in-law move house
-Cancelled the internet
-Helped sell Q's car
-Bought Q's new SH car
-Sold a couch
-Bought a couch
-Took my fish to the orphanarium
-Sold my aquariums
-Setup a cot and change table. Damn those infernal Chinese instruction writers


-Helped my friend Pierre move house. He's French. He doesn't like cheese. He's interesting
-Settled on the house (don't bother with mortgage brokers. They are just another layer of complication)
-Started 'Having a Baby 101' lessons (or 'What Not To Do When You're Partner is in Labour 101')
-Moved house. Ouch. But I got to drive a truck! Echo-Charlie-Rubber Ducky!
-Painted 90% the interior of a 3-bedroom house in 6 days (the psychological scars will last a lifetime)
-Weaned my Mum off Telstra
-Hooked up new phone and internet (hooray for iinet, but no ADSL2 :( this country is a friggin' telecommunications backwater I tell ya)
-bought a dining room table
-Wondered if I'll ever blog again
-Received a new work car. Faith in job temporarily restored.
-Moved Stinkbum to new premises
-Moved the cat
-Caught Gastro off my sister's kids, albeit mildly
-Watched Q turn inside from a severe bout of Gastro, ending in a precautionary visit to hospital
(Speaking of Gastro, I once asked a girl out on a date but she told me no, she was in bed with Gastro. I gave up on her straight away. I mean, how could I compete with the leader of Cuba)

-Painted 10% the interior of a 3-bedroom house
-Bought a lawnmower and hedge trimmer. Whats happening to me!!!
-Watched a birth video at What Not To Do When You're Partner is in Labour-101. No wonder they get the Dad to stand behind the mother
-Marvelled at my new work commute. From 34 traffic lights to just 1
-Wondered by so many bots/trawlers/spammers and enigmatic anoymous commenters are leaving comments on my little blog.
-RECONNECTED TO THE INTERNET AT HOME!

Oh, and that was all before lunchtime! I think I need a lie down.

...beep

'Beep!'

Sure new cars are nice to drive in many respects,and I like the fact that I've been giving a new flasho work vehicle. It makes a nice change from the old ute with the grass growing in the back. But it goes 'beep' way too much for my liking.


Turn the car on.

'Beep Beep Beep (put your belt on)'
"Yeah, yeah gimme a bloody second. Geez. So impatient."

'Beep (you are now in reverse)'
"That's because I put the car in reverse. You have an extraordinary grasp of the obvious."

'Beep Beep Beep (there is something behind you)'
"Yes I am reversing toward the fence that I CAN SEE because I have my OWN EYES and I don't need a stupid beep to tell me."

'Beep Beep Beep (the something is getting closer)'
"That's coz I'm deliberately driving towards it."

'BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! (Danger! There is a large clump of soft green grass behind you now!)'
It's freakin' grass! And you're a freakin' 4WD you stupid yet luxurious piece of patronising crap!

Gah!

Take me back to a simpler time. A time when cars just chewed up your David Bowie mixed tape and didn't constantly bug you out by going 'Beep' in your ear.

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...tings to do

My to-do list for the next 6 months...

• buy car
• buy house
• become a dad

Crikey! Life just got rather interesting.

I wish I could just skip forward and have it all done, out of the way. The suspense is killing me, and we've only just started. But instead I'm about to drive to some 'affordable' suburb to inspect some 'affordable' crap house in the 'affordable' price range $400,000 - $500,000.

We'll be right. Compared to many, we're quite fortunate to even be in that position. But I wish we could just spin around the loungeroom to this, and have it magically happen without even having to think about it.

.

...bro from unzud

The other night at the Pub I was having a chat about redundant methods of financial transaction with a friendly Kiwi bloke, when he suddenly exclaimed "I hate chicks!"

It turned a few heads and got a few "Wha's" in his direction, before we realised that he really hated "cheques". Oh how we larfed and larfed.

.

...they have the power!!!

Did you read this?

That's right folks. Apparently the internet is "not a free for all".

Somebody had better tell the internet. And I'd better take down all my bizarre-creepy-stalker-hate-blogs.

---

Also, in step with several other media outlets, due to rising cost of quality blogging, The Man at the Pub will soon be charging a subscription fee to it's readers. The fees are yet to be announced but full fee paying customers will receive 100% non-stop, hardcore pub action, plus this great T-shirt! For a lesser fee, readers can choose Pub-lite, a magazine-style bloggette full of past Pub gems and associated fluff, shite and cringe-worthy banter.


If you would like to join The Man at the Pub or Pub-Lite, please click on the following form, print it, fill it out and post to:

The Man at the Pub
That Little Cupboard Next to the Hot Water System
Melbourne 3001
Victoria, Australia

And happy Friday!

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...the man of the pub

What makes somone get an "of" in their name followed by a place name. like Lawrence of Arabia or Joan of Arc? My mate Keith has been to Thailand but I don't call him Keith of Thailand. I've been to Sumatra but they don't call me James of Sumatra, though it might be nice.

Still sick. Tenacious bugs attacking head zone. Swollen, weeping, eyelid. Congested sinuses. Forgets how to blog properly. Back at work :o( Send food and sympathies, stat!

...sickies n' sadness n' stuff

Farwell Aunty June. I only briefly met you twice, so I never really got to know you. I suppose living 2000km away doesn't help. You led a very interesting life from what I hear, and your medical career and charity work shows how dedicated you were improving the lives of others, which is just awesome. It's a shame you didn't make it to Mt. Kilamanjaro like you had planned. I would have loved to hear about it. Kilamanjaro spins me out, in a geophysical sense. A thanks for the crystal decanter wedding present. Even though the card fell off we are 95% sure it was you. For a 'traditional' wedding present, it is actually rather beautiful, and I'm, not known for my appreciation of modern crystal decanters. I don't actually believe in heaven, and I'm not sure they have blogs there so I don't know if you'll be able to read this message. Anyhow we all love you, and your little sister and her daughter really miss you already.

---

On more self-indulgent matters, I'm on a 4 day weekend. Woo hoo! Only catch is that I'm sick as a sick dog, ie; sick. Boooo! I have a nasty cold/throat infection and a weeping, itchy sty in my right eyelid, so I look like a prize fighter and sound like I've been punched in the throat. But on the good side, I'm on a 4 day weekend, I've stocked up on 'sickie' food (ice-cream, soft drink, etc.) which purely serves the purpose of cheering one up rather than having any therapeutic benefit, so my cup is half full. And I've been watching morning telly, which is bloody hilarious! It's all just a big ad, and is so scripted it makes me want to puke. They're just hookers for capitalism, peddling mindless consumerism. And that Reyne guy (I can't tell David from James) looks evil. All that Botox makes him look like Brendon Nelson. Ha! Take that, strange, plastic television people!

.

...born to be mild

I've never been much interested in extreme sports like skydiving, hang-gliding, BASE jumping, riding your bike on Melbourne's roads or lion-taming, though I've done a bit of rock climbing and SCUBA diving in my more acne prone days... but it was over-rated. I once went SCUBA diving at Port Campbell and it was so cold several of my appendages went blue, but they had a really amazing colony of rusty shopping trolleys just off the pier, so it was ok.

So no thanks. I don't even fancy sitting in an aeroplane, let alone jumping out of one... unless I have to. So I really would prefer a parachute under my seat rather than an air-filled plastic ring with a small, red whistle. But the upshot is that I could play a nice ditty as I plunge to my death at 112.4metres/sec with an inflatable pillow around my neck. I reckon I'd play the intro to Stairway to Heaven, or maybe something by Boney M.

This may be one of the strangest questions I've ever asked but what song would you most like to play on a kazoo as you fall to your death from 30,000ft?

Happy Friday!

Time of post: 12:34:56 07.08.09. Spooky!

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...randomness

The Moon was walk-into-a-tree-fantastic last night. We had a huge halo around the full moon with Jupiter at the bottom right, the whole lot behind a screen of mist.

Come to think of it, I should have taken some photos, but photos never do these spectacles of nature any justice. But I did take a nice photo of a comet once.

But I can't find it, so here's a photo of some poppies I took in Canada.


Aren't they purdy?

Geek fact: If you see a rabbit in the moon (and I can't) the moon landing occured at the bottom of the right ear.

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...lemon cordial

You know what I like?

Cold lemon cordial.


Its just so damn zesty and refreshing! And it doesn't even have alcohol in it!

Don't know why I thought you should know that.

Anyone who doesn't like lemons is bananas.

.

...the duck of springe

If you've seen a duck in a tree lately, fear not, for this auspicious sighting means that springe is not too far away.

The Australian Wood Duck (Chenonetta jubata) is a handsome, charismatic 'goose-like' duck that can be found near most inland water bodies across the country. These comic, web-footed little bastards are unique among ducks in their habit of nesting in trees. And they get in the mood relatively early too, around mid July, which explains why lately I've been hearing the tell-tale Brrrruuyykk of a horny wood duck in a tree.

Wood Ducks in the trees are a sign of Muyan (early spring) in the seasonal calendar observed by the Wurundjeri people, the original inhabitants of the Lower Yarra Region where I am priveleged to work. The Wurundjeri would look for signs like wood ducks shagging to notify them of changes in the seasons and therefore, where to find the best food, shelter, etc. The Wurundjeri have six seasons in a year, which in my opinion is a more accurate system for this part of the world than our four season European import.

Bullarto n'yoweenth - High Summer (November-mid January)
Creeks begin to dry up, fish move upstream, lizards and snakes active.

Wygabil-ny-ewin - Late Summer (mid Jan-mid March)
Eels move downstream, Autumn rains arrive, Yellow-box and Stringybark gum trees flower, fires lit.

Berrip - Early Winter (mid March-May)
Possums mating, many moths active, creeks flow again, fungi grow, kangaroos feed on new growth after fires.

Perrin - Deep Winter (May-mid July)
Cold, short days, river flats flooded, leaves on water plants turn brown though small tuberous herbs grow.

Muyan - Pre-spring (mid July- mid August)
Wattles begin to flower, morning frogs are heard, wood ducks start nesting, birds flocking before migration, other migrant birds arrive.

Pareip - True Spring (mid August-November)
Orchids and lilies flowering, water plants put on green leaves, joeys leave the pouch, birds breeding, snakes and lizards becoming active, River flats in flood from snow-melt.

Lovely isn't it. Makes me want to go campinge.

.

...aunty dot

I've got an Aunty Dot. Actually, she's my great aunty, and she's 94 years young. She's lived in Williamstown all her life. She is Williamstown. She is also a writer.

One of her short stories just got made into a short film. It's a true story she wrote called My Father is a Wonderful Man and it's about a Dutch migrant family in Williamstown circa 1950's. I can't tell you what happens, but it's sad. I can't even tell you where you could see it yet. It's still in post-production, but hopefully I'll be going to the inaugural screening.

It was great that Aunty Dot could advise the production on various elements of the story, because she's pretty old now.

We all love Aunty Dot.

.

...a smoke free pub

Its been 6 months since my last cigarette.

Hooray for Me!

I don't miss 'em much any more either. About a month ago when I was thinking about it, I thought Gee I haven't had a craving for a while. And it's true. My usual ten per day after coffee/meals/with beer cravings have largely disappeared. Who would have thunk it?

I must be lucky because I can honestly say it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It was hard, just not agonising. I was sure I had become a 'rusted on' smoker, 20 per day, 30 with booze for fifteen years. I guess I figured out how to play the right mindgames to convince myself that I don't smoke.

Its amazing what willpower can do. That and $783 of hypnotherapy.


Though I do wonder why I start pretending to be a chicken everytime someone says the word "satay".

Brrrk.... Brrrrrk...



Happy weekend!

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...where's the cheese?

When I bought my ukelele, my local purveyor of small guitars almost convinced me to buy an $80 model, despite it being my first time.

I said I wanted to start out slowly and not rush into anything. He said that if you start playing with an el cheapo crappo instrument you'd never get into it, and he had (has) a good point. The $80 number sounds heaps better. The $300 '"concert" ukelele is a work of art. The $400 electric ukelele in the shape of a Les Paul is out of this world.

But they're not kitsch enough, all serious looking with a natural woodgrain finish. Gimme the cadmium red el cheapo number, at least until they make a decent model with a sunset and palm tree on it. Its a fuckin ukelele for godssake! Where's the cheese? And where's the "Big Bumper Songbook of Daggy Hawaiian Tunes for Utter Morons" in the book selection?

Geez! Who do they take me for? Someone serious?

.

...almost famous

Came home the other day to find a non-enveloped letter in the box. Nothing strange about that, except this one said something along the lines of "We've been scouting for filming locations and your house matches the descriptions of the director's requirements...etc". The production is the second series of an AFI winning comedy that screened on SBS. Nobody really watched it (myself included) but I had heard of it. One of those shows you think "I wouldn't mind watching that", but five minutes later forget what day or time it is on.

At first Q though they must have dropped the letter into every house along the street. But we soon figured that if they were after a clean 1940's picket-fenced Californian bungalow with a neat garden, they would have dropped to the letter to every house on the street except ours. We live in a dump, though its an endearing dump.

So Q rang the producer this morning to find out more...

"So you're interested in our house?"

"Yep."

"You mean the boxy one in desperate need of a paintjob with the large, broken yacht out the front?"

"Aha"

"The one with the blue rowboat, retro lawnmowers and rusty 1950's concrete mixers?"

"You betcha"

"Our house with the giant banana passionfruit vine strangling the clothesline, the mouldy caravan and a Charles Dickens doorknocker?"

"The very one"

"The one with no fence, a letterbox being held in place with a couple of housebricks and a grumpy pussy cat?"

"It's perfect!"

"So when can you come over?"


Six weeks filming, unlimited access required. We're keen to learn more (and we we're meeting the producer on Friday morning), but its far from a given. It may be too disruptive to our lives (pussycat included) and the interior may not meet their requirements anyway. It is very cosy inside. But we may be interested for a couple of reasons. Firstly, we'd get a real kick out of seeing our house, inside and out, in a TV series. Secondly, we'd love to immortalise 'The Boat', the famous boat whose owner just passed away. And lastly, there is a nice little fee payable to us, if they want to proceed.

I probably can't tell you much more because there may be confidentiality clauses and the like.

Watch this space.

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