tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77479104902090959812024-02-21T21:48:20.800+11:00Happy Up HereA selection of fine wares created in an application even worse than MS Paint.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-19017781103301888842011-02-14T17:47:00.001+11:002011-02-14T17:50:29.382+11:00ElderlyI can't wait until I'm an old person. Based on a number of experiences I've had recently and not-so-recently, here is what I imagine I'll be able to do when I'm old. It seems that when you hit about 60, you become automatically entitled to do a whole world of things which are otherwise unacceptable.<br />
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The most common and probably the most infuriating of all these things has to be<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RKn5WVNY4kN2G-ZW72fK24eNWtvGVH_ZlvMgBePygG06gpt9XTyQa1unEVgM6mlWORfqk8T9Y-dqYhNRwOrlhBvvAJF3pvucU7ogiaQ7JBedurVg2E76Ya6RwlZ7xyWv44uNYSydNAkI/s1600/Pushing+In.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RKn5WVNY4kN2G-ZW72fK24eNWtvGVH_ZlvMgBePygG06gpt9XTyQa1unEVgM6mlWORfqk8T9Y-dqYhNRwOrlhBvvAJF3pvucU7ogiaQ7JBedurVg2E76Ya6RwlZ7xyWv44uNYSydNAkI/s400/Pushing+In.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
If I had a dollar for every time some old cow shoved her way in front of me in a line, I'd be a millionaire. I'd at least be able to repay my debts to StudyLink. It happened the other day at the supermarket. I'd been waiting very patiently at the deli counter while some other old tart finished off, and when the person behind the counter called "next please", this awful old hag appeared out of nowhere and started ordering! Instead of forcing her into the meat slicer as I should have done, I flicked her aside with a curt "I believe I was next. Being old doesn't mean you get to skip queues".<br />
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I'm English. Queuing is the national sport in England, and as such I take it very seriously.<br />
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If I don't draw a picture of me putting an old lady in the meat slicer I think I'll be lynched.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRF45ptleNDygdqk-oZcUvYKaiMryKCypgJ-fFLG4crCEADK0KDJy3Bam1ytHqV0PFpezGv80s31h377c7cd98JgekVU7VO_Csdt7GGzUGhCkx0xhX4O7ZFTODtxF-ej6-8ztuqgcpUOOr/s1600/Meat+slier.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRF45ptleNDygdqk-oZcUvYKaiMryKCypgJ-fFLG4crCEADK0KDJy3Bam1ytHqV0PFpezGv80s31h377c7cd98JgekVU7VO_Csdt7GGzUGhCkx0xhX4O7ZFTODtxF-ej6-8ztuqgcpUOOr/s320/Meat+slier.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It happened again when I recently saw Tim Finn in concert. As the encore began, I couple of scaly old prostitutes ruined my opportunity to call for <i>Shark Attack</i> by pushing right in behind me, in front of my friend Alison. Words were exchanged and they eventually buggered off to the back, probably for another sherry. Seriously, the number of middle-aged/old people at that concert who only got out once a year was staggering. A lady behind us got so drunk that she was grinding on her 40-something speccy accountant husband for all to see. Put it away.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJ1dUbm-AdSy8uOj2XMlJll-C0vH8bWuJ_X3R63yCsSo13rrmFSTCdqpQDcrkdhq32CXuAdMlgpOo-YvGgvSS_rnlyYdCzRPHKwEtAYuHBjtdzFycORRKm3eFrd-Mdpctxpi8mKXgUq5v/s1600/TomFinn.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzJ1dUbm-AdSy8uOj2XMlJll-C0vH8bWuJ_X3R63yCsSo13rrmFSTCdqpQDcrkdhq32CXuAdMlgpOo-YvGgvSS_rnlyYdCzRPHKwEtAYuHBjtdzFycORRKm3eFrd-Mdpctxpi8mKXgUq5v/s320/TomFinn.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So basically, when I'm old, I'll get to the front of every line, be able to stand on the wrong side of the escalator, should loudly at shop attendants, get my shopping bags carried to the car for me, not have to say please or thank-you (seriously, and they say that TEENAGERS are rude? They're dreaming!), block the footpath with my huge shopping bags, and live the life of luxury in retirement villages. Ohh it sounds like the life! I guess I'll need it after the debauched mid-life crisis that I'll inevitably have.<br />
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Shame everyone hates old people, though.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-4444489794343004702011-02-05T15:26:00.000+11:002011-02-05T15:26:57.405+11:00StupidI've now been working in Melbourne long enough to have come to the sad realisation that customers here are every bit as stupid as those in New Zealand - perhaps even more so. It doesn't help that right now, with it being holiday season, the city is positively crawling with pests, more commonly known as Americans.<br />
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I don't know how most Americans are allowed outside without minders. I am aware that not ALL Americans are mind-bogglingly stupid - I once had an American <a href="http://fw.oregonstate.edu/About%20Us/personnel/faculty/baker.htm">lecturer</a> who was one of the smartest people I've ever come across. However, America, these tourist ambassadors you keep sending to Australia are not doing you any favours.<br />
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Actually, I was just reminded of the time that Dad and I were walking down the main street of Browns Bay in New Zealand behind a typical American father and daughter. I mean, if I had the strongest microscope in the world I still wouldn't have been able to find this guy's cock. His crappy plastic daughter asks him if she can go to some crappy fast-food outlet, which I've long since forgotten the name of. Anyway, it doesn't exist in New Zealand because we all still have somewhat refined taste buds there. The micropenis of a father responds with this:<br />
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"No honey, they don't have that here. Remember, you're in a third-world country now!"<br />
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Excuse me?!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lutheranworld.org/Images/LWF_Photos/Photos_DWS/DWS-Countries_Photos/DWS-Ethiopia-Boy-big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://www.lutheranworld.org/Images/LWF_Photos/Photos_DWS/DWS-Countries_Photos/DWS-Ethiopia-Boy-big.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">≠</span></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.u3abb.net.nz/a_Browns_Bay-11L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.u3abb.net.nz/a_Browns_Bay-11L.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Look, see, there's even a Starbucks!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">You can tell just by looking that someone is an American. So obviously, every time one of them enters my workplace, I die a little bit inside, even before they open their mouths. I've had several of them ask for extra whipped cream on their coffee. We don't put whipped cream in our coffee. We don't even have whipped cream in our shop. That's fucking disgusting. One day I just responded with "no, we don't have whipped cream. Here in Australia, we don't feel the need to disguise every flavour under the sun with half a pound of sugar". Obviously she just looked at me blankly.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdEeprvNSasVDxFNH50UGgJpBGlIC3ZVMJ5WMxFkY7xKpe-4_vq5wBz-e_xsb30LZeuMXCn4AIfAMvwYEVF6uf-7ll6XIBq5SDKTTJ1aSAdg51Hn9v1fxS6m2fF6pz9u3QRK7OFD2MARX/s1600/blankface.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdEeprvNSasVDxFNH50UGgJpBGlIC3ZVMJ5WMxFkY7xKpe-4_vq5wBz-e_xsb30LZeuMXCn4AIfAMvwYEVF6uf-7ll6XIBq5SDKTTJ1aSAdg51Hn9v1fxS6m2fF6pz9u3QRK7OFD2MARX/s400/blankface.png" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">OH YES AND. I recently learnt a shocking fact. I was on the plane and reading the crappy airline magazine, and I came across an article about "Australian cuisine in America". I made some offhand comment to the boyfriend along the lines of "Australian cuisine? What, a pie and sauce? Lol lol lol!" However, I read on, and discovered that the humble meat pie is indeed a rare and unusual specimen for these Americans! I don't understand. I shall now consider THEM a third-world country - as we know, all the best countries have meat pies. (Please, if you're an American reading this and you DO know what a meat pie is, please speak up so I don't lose all my faith in humanity). I mean, you'd think a meat pie would be PERFECT for the greasy, fatty American "cuisine". </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Anyway, I've had enough of bitching about Americans. They may be a special kind of stupid, but we have some quite remarkable douches in Australia as well. These are all true stories, no hyperbole.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">We have very clear labeling in our shop. All our food is displayed in cabinets - one warm, for pies and sausage rolls, and one cool. There is absolutely no indication that there is any more food than what is right in front of the customer. We have no extra menus, no other counters, no obvious kitchen. We have eight flavours of pie, clearly labeled like so: </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlyR46KjZgpQkvkrpYnzGv9gfKb52gL5oZZfqQRMkn0AUNLXFeitX6r8KH61JHywtotGd4t6fqvL-klzDj02R7GRcKEOO57vz8_uHsF7Q1NKd0PdHEHncpvTiuQhvNnjOe2wR1Sc_rRk_/s1600/Pielabels.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlyR46KjZgpQkvkrpYnzGv9gfKb52gL5oZZfqQRMkn0AUNLXFeitX6r8KH61JHywtotGd4t6fqvL-klzDj02R7GRcKEOO57vz8_uHsF7Q1NKd0PdHEHncpvTiuQhvNnjOe2wR1Sc_rRk_/s400/Pielabels.png" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">However, at least 2 in 5 customers will peer at the pies for aeons, then look up and say "I'll have a steak and mushroom please". </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">WE DON'T HAVE IT</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">WE NEVER DID</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">AND WE NEVER WILL.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THAT IDEA INTO YOUR HEAD.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hV_nrZjl0raEZUOye-Q_9g93ZjZ3ENgGAVpBQoAPYlAjTpwfIbvfYln1kNxFgvKsoCv5lly5k66QUkOoRn50CpT9oYnFk7F6CxCbZ6gfxkX7DgZzenH2CADE7RFPrj9NKi6HOl6v53it/s1600/NOSTEAK.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hV_nrZjl0raEZUOye-Q_9g93ZjZ3ENgGAVpBQoAPYlAjTpwfIbvfYln1kNxFgvKsoCv5lly5k66QUkOoRn50CpT9oYnFk7F6CxCbZ6gfxkX7DgZzenH2CADE7RFPrj9NKi6HOl6v53it/s400/NOSTEAK.png" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Ahem.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Next thing: PLEASE be specific. Saying "one meat pie, please" or "a pie and a coffee, please" is not going to get you anywhere. All our pies have meat except for one. So when I give you say, a Thai chicken curry pie and a short macchiato, don't look at me all confused and say "but I wanted a steak pie and a latte!" Next time, why don't you say that? That would make things easier for all of us. Oh god but yesterday, this woman comes in a says "a drink, please".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">FFFFFFF-</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Turned out she wanted a strawberry milkshake. She conveyed this through a vague hand gesture. I think I'm psychic. And she wins an award I just made up:</span><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2jFzqc1iz3zXQfQWDx5rf1q_rgwkUURlSycWVyhcsd4FzfbcPy4TLVD66oD4ztPiJIQ1PPp-eIipOAmZmXxFaPagpBiDp2i9HT-b8fMoXszhtWhoYN8ZxgDkdQ6z7jhp_fNwXu1ltiEf/s1600/vague.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2jFzqc1iz3zXQfQWDx5rf1q_rgwkUURlSycWVyhcsd4FzfbcPy4TLVD66oD4ztPiJIQ1PPp-eIipOAmZmXxFaPagpBiDp2i9HT-b8fMoXszhtWhoYN8ZxgDkdQ6z7jhp_fNwXu1ltiEf/s400/vague.png" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">It's the vague award and it's the colour of mushrooms and sadness. Enjoy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I could go on all day about the general twatty things customers do. But I won't, so here's a quick list of the <s>low</s>highlights.</span><br />
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<ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">There is obviously a counter. Don't come around the side, or worse, INSIDE the work area.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">If I'm obviously busy in the back, don't try and jump the queue and place an order with me. There's clearly a person taking orders at the front. </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Of course the pies are hot. Can't you feel the warmth radiating from that warmer you're standing right in front of?</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">"One chicken toasted sandwich please. Can you toast it?" No, I think I'll freeze it.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">"Raisin toast please. Can I have it toasted?" No, I'm just going to kill you.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">"Small or large?" "Medium". Did I say "small, medium or large?" I think not.</span></li>
</ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Those are all general things - many, many customers do all of the above every day. However, some customers are just a cut below all the rest. Some deserve a special individual mention.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i>Bag lady</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDYDbpOXdWRMYypB6HVcZbWlJO6wXmWAbmJMX2tPwOC8cnwLdsjYdORoOOqNHzkREaIaIc698KGe2FWidE_dvQf9logegBKAKaWBLoGEUTRVadmYl2a7JYnmcQWnw21DwHbDILMEfhJBI/s1600/baglady.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPDYDbpOXdWRMYypB6HVcZbWlJO6wXmWAbmJMX2tPwOC8cnwLdsjYdORoOOqNHzkREaIaIc698KGe2FWidE_dvQf9logegBKAKaWBLoGEUTRVadmYl2a7JYnmcQWnw21DwHbDILMEfhJBI/s400/baglady.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">This woman is something else. She's a regular customer, though thankfully no longer regular on my shift. Hopefully I scare her or something. Anyway, every time it's the same: in her awful nasal voice, she demands a small weak cappuccino with <i>four</i> sugars, along with a glass of tap water. I'll bring it out to her, trying hard not to breathe in when I get close to her, and go back behind the counter and count to 10. One (or both) of these two things will invariably happen. Either the coffee will "taste funny", in which case I will take it away and make exactly the same thing, which she will declare to be "lovely". She will then insist on telling me exactly how lovely it was multiple times, often when I'm serving other customers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">When she leaves, I will go and collect her cup with a sense of dread and foreboding. Sure enough, the coffee will be all over the table, and the 3259348570 napkins she has scattered over the table won't have absorbed any of the mess. Seriously, there isn't that much coffee in a small cup. Does she bring her own in a hip-flask or something? Oh yeah, and the other thing she enjoys is to pour the coffee from the cup <i>into the saucer</i>, and drink it out of the saucer. Like this:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMgOYh9KTS3-sgJIJgWJBqsruLPw-u5KLrHTE-78xJ7_4Xw4CTX-Ska6OrTGilVV3THhVSR91rq55qwzuvpGsRnivK2v_dzx9ZllRje_AxczBbX5D1nPGyUsMn17XuA0j_04LwLe_A0Qk/s1600/foster-w-cat-drinks-a-saucer-of-milk-at-a-doorstep-whilst-watched-by-a-dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMgOYh9KTS3-sgJIJgWJBqsruLPw-u5KLrHTE-78xJ7_4Xw4CTX-Ska6OrTGilVV3THhVSR91rq55qwzuvpGsRnivK2v_dzx9ZllRje_AxczBbX5D1nPGyUsMn17XuA0j_04LwLe_A0Qk/s320/foster-w-cat-drinks-a-saucer-of-milk-at-a-doorstep-whilst-watched-by-a-dog.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Pastry problems</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This man is one of my favourites. And by "favourite", I mean he made me want to stick my head in the oven. He came in and stood in front of the pie warmer for ages, staring at it with the most confused expression on his face. On that side of the counter is the pie warmer, and up above that there is a room-temperature section with croissants and danishes. All of these things are very clearly labelled.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a while, I feel this is getting ridiculous, so I ask him if he needs any help. He looks up at me, confused expression all intact, and asks me "are these the pies?" This would have been bad enough if he had actually been pointing at the pies, but no. He was pointing at the CROISSANTS. This man needs special help. Perhaps a handy chart, like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpZZq1W4aasIL0uxhy38nk6RMHK7AQQPBA-BfaQi1bHt7_maAc2ArSOuaDD-cm7ycNz-v_Rx4BdjX4DJBFTZC0E6QIIKn2jN_7JztH0ujSRBFM_MarNYoGjkUb3GBQOuyeB2r1Izdxxb8/s1600/not+pies.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpZZq1W4aasIL0uxhy38nk6RMHK7AQQPBA-BfaQi1bHt7_maAc2ArSOuaDD-cm7ycNz-v_Rx4BdjX4DJBFTZC0E6QIIKn2jN_7JztH0ujSRBFM_MarNYoGjkUb3GBQOuyeB2r1Izdxxb8/s400/not+pies.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Food recognition issues</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This man pissed me off even before he hit his stupidity climax by asking for "a meat pie". I sighed and asked "chunky steak or mince beef?" He looked at me blankly. "Steak and what?" he says. "Mince." To which he responds with</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">"What's mince?"</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">WHAT. He had to be kidding. How can you be a mid-40s Australian and not know what MINCE IS. I just responded with "...mince. I actually can't explain it any further than that. Mince."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He ordered the chunky steak. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The number of stupid customer stories obviously grows by the day, but time is limited! To round off, here is a list of handy tips for customers visiting my work:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ol><li>Please read the menu. That will cover all your product and price enquiries.</li>
<li>We're a pie shop. We do not sell Chinese dim sims, pizzas, pastas or salads (all real requests).</li>
<li>We're a pie shop. Nothing here is healthy. Don't even ask me that.</li>
<li>I'm in here. The door is open and the lights are on. OF COURSE WE'RE OPEN.</li>
</ol><div>Finally, I don't want to give the misleading impression that every customer coming in has the intelligence of a very stupid slug. There are a few regular customers who just make my day. I thank you for saving me from sticking my head in the oven halfway through each shift.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Coming soon: </b>Stories from the dark days of the supermarket.</div><br />
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</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div></div>Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-61759342249634350622010-11-28T11:40:00.001+11:002010-11-28T11:40:59.555+11:00Why I am better than Stephen KingRecently, I have been told by a number of people that they actually read this blog, think it is lovely and wonderful, and want me to post more crappy pictures. However, my problem is that I have many unfinished posts waiting to see the light of day which I just can't make into proper long posts. So I'm going to do something drastic (not really). Remember when Stephen King was releasing a bunch of shitty novels, like Cell and Lisey's Story, but then he released a book of short stories that were really good, and then after that his novels became good too? I'm going to try that. Welcome to the Stephen King method of blogging. Except I don't think Stephen King illustrates his short stories. OH WELL. This is why I'm more awesome than Stephen King.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyeT7lhC_swHNrce1pLkLll7KCzNf5Y297ngYnAE84Vkkas6S7KeSRnphj0IDMJvPFQ-AQuuD9pSx7hmuFe5YB9qgDZv5YDf7HyslfjKw3_U1_bc6oNuBaxvTanJq-3dM4FGdHDpINRVb/s1600/AwesomeScale.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyeT7lhC_swHNrce1pLkLll7KCzNf5Y297ngYnAE84Vkkas6S7KeSRnphj0IDMJvPFQ-AQuuD9pSx7hmuFe5YB9qgDZv5YDf7HyslfjKw3_U1_bc6oNuBaxvTanJq-3dM4FGdHDpINRVb/s400/AwesomeScale.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<b>01. A tribute to Vlad</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
The most recent person to say that I should post a new story was Vlad from Interference.com. Since he seems to actually like my posts, I thought I might draw him a picture. Since he's never posted a picture of himself on the Superthread, I thought I'd draw one of him, so that we can at least all have the same image in my mind. Until he posts one, this is what we'll all think of when we think of Vlad.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6M7NgqAecgeUwBpDw-EfkHlrYgDDP37FWGz7mqtps9rlqH8qgy4bnW86fZrfF3cSxDP4qqdtSt2PY5ZVutTKexE6BfJR5BAryACEhrizd1WtLM7mNN6knl24Q-aFwaurvLOReJbxK1A6/s1600/Vlad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM6M7NgqAecgeUwBpDw-EfkHlrYgDDP37FWGz7mqtps9rlqH8qgy4bnW86fZrfF3cSxDP4qqdtSt2PY5ZVutTKexE6BfJR5BAryACEhrizd1WtLM7mNN6knl24Q-aFwaurvLOReJbxK1A6/s400/Vlad.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I really tried to draw a glorious motherland bear in the background of this picture, but alas:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNnxDHS2zgDorkCfcHWbUkeby80gMauqa2czL6RvXFXL9e3y32uDheI9NxB51D3ShGVSspmaQUzFIKwMLW6FLs3FRxJ52Yolh5nXFJvEWCzJWzr0RML_tiDTa2confHQrDhjd21T5A2jL/s1600/%2522Bear%2522.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNnxDHS2zgDorkCfcHWbUkeby80gMauqa2czL6RvXFXL9e3y32uDheI9NxB51D3ShGVSspmaQUzFIKwMLW6FLs3FRxJ52Yolh5nXFJvEWCzJWzr0RML_tiDTa2confHQrDhjd21T5A2jL/s320/%2522Bear%2522.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
What even is that. It looks like a fucking hand puppet. And that red thing is meant to be its mouth, not a slash wound/vagina.<br />
<br />
Anyway, tribute to glorious motherland Vlad! We drink much vodka and borscht in his honour!<br />
<br />
<b>02. The creepy Liberal candidate for the Victorian election</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
His name is actually Ted Baillieu. He ran a woefully uninspiring ad campaign for the Victorian election (which it actually looks like he's won, boo and nay). This ad campaign consisted of him standing there and the words "Vote Liberal". See:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3fnRIsPr4pt1rWlHScpj29mupevokH1BbeRftZ5rsPZ_yz3XuLK6dN_CUNiX6Nhozvlub1JMcj7Kx_UpqYi9eZQ-HjS8IrVpUKQkcXNF8F0RAgE818w94TJZHbViodcPXl7JaqleTew7/s1600/TedBallieu.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3fnRIsPr4pt1rWlHScpj29mupevokH1BbeRftZ5rsPZ_yz3XuLK6dN_CUNiX6Nhozvlub1JMcj7Kx_UpqYi9eZQ-HjS8IrVpUKQkcXNF8F0RAgE818w94TJZHbViodcPXl7JaqleTew7/s320/TedBallieu.png" width="202" /></a></div><br />
However, the boyfriend and I reckon that it's actually quite clever after all. The undertones are all in his facial expression. Do you see what I'm getting at here? This guy is fucking creepy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhsf2SmcadeZVzBMR-a_Mfjx5naQlY_BUOXYwQijCqMeFt4xRuOsQ6ZKghP9NHoiOUKSgllZ-tzxiyVzRigMtMpBdFOV01oG4O4nP64Opv_jKlsAHHClhlC8q_MTsKa4nszdN8OJPwzEf/s1600/TedBallieu1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhsf2SmcadeZVzBMR-a_Mfjx5naQlY_BUOXYwQijCqMeFt4xRuOsQ6ZKghP9NHoiOUKSgllZ-tzxiyVzRigMtMpBdFOV01oG4O4nP64Opv_jKlsAHHClhlC8q_MTsKa4nszdN8OJPwzEf/s320/TedBallieu1.png" width="202" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVB1leB0Fh2ykSsGQRwlkYdKI9xJC7GGuGKGtbFcfesz23DQSnoSU5pCrBfX7CFobQ9_xlPgLV9UgixIGPOoQwE1Q-FVEidkjlmdRUKKRCit9jy_ZMKhswBoy6WqM6QT3Dzuj-7gYl9gxI/s1600/TedBallieu2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVB1leB0Fh2ykSsGQRwlkYdKI9xJC7GGuGKGtbFcfesz23DQSnoSU5pCrBfX7CFobQ9_xlPgLV9UgixIGPOoQwE1Q-FVEidkjlmdRUKKRCit9jy_ZMKhswBoy6WqM6QT3Dzuj-7gYl9gxI/s320/TedBallieu2.png" width="202" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJw-H8ptjrNV8MkJjSiwYrI7MeLh89f7c3qQ1hYp4zj8Mvj_vobr5d_9D0pmCj8-H1VEPAmxh8L1P-Q0keigMY_ybwjNjl-lJjaLaE20xI5X7kKAD-rM24cle3rnoKekWfEH4C6vkcy4m/s1600/TedBallieu3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJw-H8ptjrNV8MkJjSiwYrI7MeLh89f7c3qQ1hYp4zj8Mvj_vobr5d_9D0pmCj8-H1VEPAmxh8L1P-Q0keigMY_ybwjNjl-lJjaLaE20xI5X7kKAD-rM24cle3rnoKekWfEH4C6vkcy4m/s320/TedBallieu3.png" width="202" /></a></div><br />
You get the idea, right? Implied. Very clever, isn't he?<br />
<br />
Bloody paedophile.<br />
<br />
UPDATE! I just saw this on The Age! I think he just did flash someone, and he is very VERY happy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXxX5FJ5B2wnyQx1BeLvDGM5oV10NsGoDt8RlJ6UlirGbjZlP4zEZp2Ssz-4YGPIMWifHPrauFryNvZ_Bgl1et6kHkqtwDAJ7wmwiUC6DCCD-qZpyWs6yDFYMvwGxd_zF-iH2SHEElHpg/s1600/AHHH.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXxX5FJ5B2wnyQx1BeLvDGM5oV10NsGoDt8RlJ6UlirGbjZlP4zEZp2Ssz-4YGPIMWifHPrauFryNvZ_Bgl1et6kHkqtwDAJ7wmwiUC6DCCD-qZpyWs6yDFYMvwGxd_zF-iH2SHEElHpg/s1600/AHHH.png" /></a></div><br />
<br />
One of the other candidates for my electorate was equally terrifying. She used the same picture for every single ad. Does this woman here inspire confidence in you, or does she look like she's about to eat your family, your pets and everyone you've ever loved?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUi6xylfa-kDNL6o4tv65j2mt4Xr0dPCRu6K-BhMcDw6c4ViJPqBiH4hw4HLgpVyMsw8OBEmbTvOlTmUpv4cOSEtFaTGFf9hyphenhyphenVst23n9hRYwesZmZpiu9DHGWIIynOV6A0cn3e0l6L8z1/s1600/Jane.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUi6xylfa-kDNL6o4tv65j2mt4Xr0dPCRu6K-BhMcDw6c4ViJPqBiH4hw4HLgpVyMsw8OBEmbTvOlTmUpv4cOSEtFaTGFf9hyphenhyphenVst23n9hRYwesZmZpiu9DHGWIIynOV6A0cn3e0l6L8z1/s320/Jane.png" width="273" /></a></div><br />
Ahhh! I'll never sleep again!<br />
<br />
Of course, the ALP candidate for Melbourne itself is called Bronwyn Pike. Her election slogan?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I LIKE PIKE."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
How long did that take you to come up with? No, seriously, I would have never ever have thought of that by myself. Well done.<br />
<br />
I just wanted to change all the billboards to read "I like pie".<br />
<br />
Speaking of which:<br />
<br />
<b>03. In work news ...</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
For those who came in late, I work in a pie shop and I start at stupidly early o'clock.<br />
<br />
Now, at work, we offer an upgrade with your pie. For two dollars more, you can get your delicious pie <s>turned into death and sadness</s> served with mashed potato, peas and gravy on top.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ByVR4j_jBpgShZ8wRKen-SUQIS_73LieSFzWwXBevIc7d8eh59kXZwz2-xU5MOKuK187kmvBuVUNRdpCRVewiWnC6HYG0N4LPz9lr8namyHket913ikH-jO-rqgxbEBQsUjBqhq3g2-D/s1600/mashpeagravy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ByVR4j_jBpgShZ8wRKen-SUQIS_73LieSFzWwXBevIc7d8eh59kXZwz2-xU5MOKuK187kmvBuVUNRdpCRVewiWnC6HYG0N4LPz9lr8namyHket913ikH-jO-rqgxbEBQsUjBqhq3g2-D/s400/mashpeagravy.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
As much as I love mashed potato and gravy, they do not belong on top of a pie! Peas, on the other hand, don't belong anywhere. Ew, peas. Anyway! Generally, if you wanted to know if a customer wanted this, you'd ask something like "would you like mashed potato, peas and gravy on top of your pie?", wouldn't you? Well, some of my staff member don't have quite the right idea. They think this is appropriate:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FW2W4NomFUcwFjjY9YXZO3FWA7nNQ9zXMgX5QUdakIUuTmHv4gJEVjH8BNFos-wT5vb3L9D3BXoYeiUjqvn3sNdWDoSCfpqsdb3tvW7GWjSUta4DS1hwpe5a8wipLfTQiyoLDni5hwoA/s1600/mashpea%2521.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FW2W4NomFUcwFjjY9YXZO3FWA7nNQ9zXMgX5QUdakIUuTmHv4gJEVjH8BNFos-wT5vb3L9D3BXoYeiUjqvn3sNdWDoSCfpqsdb3tvW7GWjSUta4DS1hwpe5a8wipLfTQiyoLDni5hwoA/s400/mashpea%2521.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
THIS IS NOT THE WAY TO DO IT.<br />
<br />
Other than that, customers are fairly uninteresting. Though there is the guy who comes in almost every day, asks repeatedly if we have curry pies, then goes on about how "it's only 9:30, way to early for a pie!" and then hangs around for ages asking for curry pies. One day he is actually going to leave without a face.<br />
<br />
<b>04. As if I didn't learn my lesson the first time ...</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Many of you will remember the post in which I tried <a href="http://superslopsy.blogspot.com/2010/09/why-you-shouldnt-try-foreign-things.html">Russian-style tea</a>. Obviously this didn't end well, and I vowed never to drink awful foreign teas ever again. However, as part of the amazing Crowded House trip, we stayed in a beautiful hotel in Brisbane. They gave us a lot of complimentary teas. Thanks to my morbid curiosity and my natural instinct to take everything in hotel rooms that isn't actually nailed down, the teas came home with me. There was a selection - Earl Grey, peppermint, green tea and chamomile. I made the Earl Grey for the boyfriend and he actually liked it! That's weird, because here is how Earl Grey tea is made:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f3WlEYO41LpQPlJC0qVb8zwfEP8lSyy_suLs__21BcZTRgm7D2kGnxvMZXhQQ8N4KQoY40WOid32EMfluIgXdpWNlpfMUkH_n2LtLIrd4O_zqZh0yTFpA4mFcO7NHAsZCdE5YInZ0_jV/s1600/earlgrey.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f3WlEYO41LpQPlJC0qVb8zwfEP8lSyy_suLs__21BcZTRgm7D2kGnxvMZXhQQ8N4KQoY40WOid32EMfluIgXdpWNlpfMUkH_n2LtLIrd4O_zqZh0yTFpA4mFcO7NHAsZCdE5YInZ0_jV/s400/earlgrey.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Anyway. I never tried the green tea - I left that for my friend Helen to have when she visited me - but I did brave both the peppermint tea and the chamomile.<br />
<br />
The peppermint tea was just all kinds of wrong. Another friend of mine described it quite accurately as drinking boiled mouthwash. She wasn't far off. I couldn't even get through a quarter of it! At least it cleared my sinuses - it was also akin to Vicks vapo-rub - but for fuck's sake, does anybody ever actually drink that shit voluntarily? If so, WHY?<br />
<br />
As for the chamomile, well, it just tasted of nothing to be quite honest. I put honey in it and it was marginally better - I actually managed to finish it this time. But still! My quest to find a good herbal or fruit tea still remains futile. They smell of everything and taste of nothing. If you love being continually disappointed, herbal tea is for you, I suppose.<br />
<br />
<b>05. And finally, the news you've all been wanting - shit buildings update</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Recently (and by recently I could mean anything from "yesterday" to "in 2008"), I made two extensive blog entries about all the weird and shitty buildings around where I live. Since then, I've found out a couple of things.<br />
<br />
First of all, the Patra House. I am VERY let down. It really does just seem to be a club for Greek people from the Patras region. Still, the rather intimidating "Members Only" sign still arouses suspicion in me. How the fuck DO you become a member anyway? Also, I had a dream a couple of nights ago that the Patra House was actually a bar and they were doing $5 jugs. Stay classy.<br />
<br />
In other more important news, remember the shitty drug house? Yeah. Guess what? The fucking thing is for sale. That's not the big thing though. The big thing is how much they want for it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT153EC6HZFil2DBLbFtlCv9Gp5CufLhyQ84K7AWbnv2CTz1KiqdhgWCE1OvY777jScK6ywLS4bF3kZpcAmYnAZtN78hNz6y3APXaMBX6BVfle95FpiA9iuINilaB2uDI_yPCuIw1ZjYqj/s1600/DrugHouse.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT153EC6HZFil2DBLbFtlCv9Gp5CufLhyQ84K7AWbnv2CTz1KiqdhgWCE1OvY777jScK6ywLS4bF3kZpcAmYnAZtN78hNz6y3APXaMBX6BVfle95FpiA9iuINilaB2uDI_yPCuIw1ZjYqj/s400/DrugHouse.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Just look at that piece of shit! We couldn't believe it. It was originally up for auction, but now seems to be up for sale proper. Ok, I know that's a bloody big plot of land and all that, but $1.5 million? WOW. Also, <a href="http://img137.imageshack.us/img137/5444/drughouse.png">click here</a> for a big version of that picture. I want you to be able to see all the shit in the back garden properly.<br />
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So there you have it! Hopefully, by the Stephen King theory mentioned above, my next post will be just phenomenal. Hopefully I managed to create one before the end of the year (how the fuck did THAT happen, by the way!) Until next time, enjoy this huge collection of turds.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-44569978154845628152010-11-14T18:42:00.000+11:002010-11-14T18:42:48.432+11:00Oh my fucking god I win at life.<i>Since last time:</i><br />
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Well, the last time I started writing a blog entry proper, I received a phone call from New Zealand informing me that my grandma had passed away, so I popped back home for a bit. Though the circumstances weren't the greatest, it was still lovely to be back. I even managed to catch up with Lena for a bit, and had a massive love explosion all over her face.<br />
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When I returned, well, I can't remember if I posted before about how my work had been messing me around. Basically, I was hired in August and was told that I would be starting in mid-September, when the store was due to open. Do you want to know when I started? Do you really?<br />
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<b>October 29th.</b><br />
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So I'm bloody poor and stressing hard about having to pay my uni fees upfront next year. Oh well, such is life. I'm sure I'll get by somehow.<br />
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Other things happened also, but let's get all this preamble out the way so that I can tell you about one of the <i>best trips of my life.</i> Yeah, italics means Serious Business.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">CROWDED HOUSE TRIP OF AWESOME AND WONDERFUL!</span></span><br />
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I fucking love Crowded House. They're almost my favourite band, in fact on days like today they ARE my favourite band. So Ax and I had made plans to follow them on part of their Australian tour - Melbourne, Sydney and two Brisbane shows. I very nearly lost my job over trying to acquire leave over this trip, but all was well in the end and nobody had their eyes stabbed out. It was a close thing though.<br />
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<b>Melbourne, 5th November, Rod Laver Arena</b><br />
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This show was seated, but by god did we have amazing seats. Dead centre, front row. The seats were about as comfortable as sitting on a pincushion, but that was ok because we only spent about two milliseconds sitting down anyway. As soon as we heard the opening notes of I Feel Possessed, we were up on the rail, and there we stayed for the entire show. I hardly even remember leaving my seat. It took fucking ages for everyone else to stand up though, it wasn't until It's Only Natural, just before the encore, that everyone actually got up. Case in point:<br />
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Can you see us? The whole fucking arena saw us, dancing away like idiots. It was awesome! Set highlights included, oh, everything. Impromptu Chocolate Cake, Private Universe with most of Black and White Boy included in it, the hilarious banter. With three more shows to come, well, how much more awesome could it get? WELL.<br />
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<b>Sydney, 6th November, Horden Pavilion</b><br />
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This show was GA, thank goodness! Our flight landed in Sydney at 2:30pm, and then it took us ages to get to the hotel, so I was freaking out a little bit about getting a good spot in line. We were absolutely determined to get front row! So we walked from our hotel to the venue, during which time I discovered that the city of Sydney can't stand pedestrians and wants them all dead. The idea of a pedestrian crossing seems like a very novel concept to them, and they like to tuck them away in the most inconvenient places. So it seemed to take about 9 years to actually get there, and I was convinced that the line was going to be a mile long! But no, of course not, we were about the 7th people there. We met lots of lovely Frenz in the line, and passed the time quite happily. When the gates opened things were rather chaotic, but we still managed to basically stroll down to the front and secure the front row.<br />
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This show, Ax was most determined to try and get them to play Recurring Dream, his favourite CH song. We had prepared a number of signs for this purpose and had warmed our voices up (well I lost mine, but that's not the point) the night before. The whole show was almost finished, and we were about to give up, when Neil heard one of our yells and said something along the lines of "I'm going to try and play it for this guy down the front" (pointing at Ax). He made noises about how he "didn't know it very well", but as soon as he was past the first verse, he was off! He even managed to do the solo on his acoustic guitar, which was SO MUCH win. I think Ax probably could have died happy at that point.<br />
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The rest of the set was amazing. They did a special performance of The Intriguer with the girl who won the lyrics competition held on their official website, which was lovely indeed. In My Command fucking killed, as did World Where You Live. Also, Neil made up a hilarious song about this guy who told him that he was singing Something So Strong wrong. This guy was called Evan, and according to Neil, "Evan makes love to his bed".<br />
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We tried to meet the band afterwards to thank them for Recurring Dream, but alas, we only managed to get a wave out of Matt as he drove by. Never mind!<br />
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We now had a couple of days of rest, in which we got hideously drunk, saw a dugong and ate some amazing bacon, though not quite in that order. More details on the dugong later, too. Then, on Tuesday morning, we made our way up to Queensland, the state of humidity, toads and not much else. Ax and I had the best hotel room ever. I would totally understand Evan making love to his bed if he had been staying there. But anyway!<br />
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<b>Brisbane, 9th November, Convention and Exhibition Centre</b><br />
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Alas, for this show we failed to get front row seats. We were about 18 rows back. Although the sound was very good, the audience was poo. They sat down for pretty much the entire thing, even the people at the front! I was hoping that having It's Only Natural early in the set would get people on their feet, but NO. I couldn't resist leaping up a bit in Whispers And Moans (how could you NOT?) but we didn't get to stand properly until the encore. The lame people in front of us even sat down during Elephants. Idiots.<br />
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There were some very funny moments, including an impromptu song about this girl at the front and her "lovely dress", pointed out to us by Nick Seymour. Tomorrow night I was to have my Nick Seymour moment, but wait! I haven't finished talking about this one yet. I had been hanging out for Neil to do the Split Enz song Message To My Girl, after hearing it in Auckland in April and loving in. He delivered, and it was beautiful. Twice If You're Lucky was very good, and as always, When You Come blew the roof off.<br />
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The set was very good, as always, but sitting 18 rows back is NOT ideal. What would tomorrow night bring?<br />
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<b>Brisbane, November 10th, Convention and Exhibition Centre</b><br />
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I knew that this gig was going to be the best one from the moment we found our seats. We were front row again, but this time we were right of centre, just in front of Nick Seymour. This was awesome enough, but then I noticed the stage. There was no barrier, so we could walk right up to the stage and lean on it, and the stage was so nice and low! I could actually see everything!<br />
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For this whole trip, I had been hanging out for them to play That's What I Call Love, a song from their debut album which, to our knowledge, hasn't been played since 1986 or so. More specifically, a demo version exists which is the musical equivalent of tasteful gypsy wares. My hopes of them fulfilling my request weren't exactly sky high, but I made a number of signs, just in case. Turns out I didn't even need the signs ...<br />
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Just after Twice If You're Lucky, Neil made a comment about how Nick can't dance very well after his recent knee surgery. He then asked if anyone in the audience had "healing powers" and would rub Nick's knee for him. Of course, I did it! Nick then said "what was my end of this deal again?" My opportunity! "Please play That's What I Call Love!" I yelled. Come on, after a nice knee rub, surely they would oblige?<br />
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Neil just went "Oh, jesus!" but gave it a go! I freaked out with excitement, but then nearly DIED when I realised he was singing the gypsy wares lyrics! So now I have a very cool claim to fame - I rubbed Nick Seymour's knee, and got them to play a song that, as far as we knew, hadn't been played for over 20 years. FUCK YES. I hardly remember much of the following song, Pour Le Monde, because I was still on a high. Hell, I still am.<br />
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Hole In The River also dominated, as did the full version of Chocolate Cake. I wish we could have gone to more shows - they're playing in Adelaide tonight - but I really couldn't have asked for more. What a fucking fantastic band.<br />
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I know this blog has very few pictures. I'm so sorry. I'll make a proper one soon, though it'll probably just be crappy pictures of Neil Finn. I'm in that kind of mood.<br />
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I love you.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-19070205358568096162010-09-27T22:06:00.000+10:002010-09-27T22:06:06.566+10:00Cat LadyWhere on earth have I been since the last time you saw me? Not very many places, to be honest. First of all I died (I'm still dying a bit) of a horrible cough which feels like lots of angry hedgehogs are trying to bash their way out of my throat.<br />
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That made me sad. Hedgehogs are cute and shouldn't make me feel like this:<br />
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Of course, that doesn't really stop me blogging. It's just I've been feeling spectacularly unfunny for the last week or so. I've suddenly become very homesick and that really isn't the best frame of mind in which to write funny stories and draw funny pictures! But I'm feeling much better today, especially because yesterday, summer arrived! But of course, this always happens. In late September/early October, there will be one brilliantly sunny day. Everyone will put on their shorts and run outside going "YAY!! SUMMER IS HERE!!" and get sunburnt.<br />
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Of course, the next day (today) it pisses down with rain and is cold. I fear my shorts will be sitting dejectedly in the wardrobe for a while. It's meant to be sunny again this weekend though. Just so you know.<br />
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Anyway. The boyfriend and I have a new hobby. Catspotting! He hasn't had a cat for 48784687 years, and I left my babies behind in New Zealand, so we both kind of crave cute fuzzy cats all the time. We've started to become quite familiar with the neighbourhood cats. Allow me to do for you <i>the cutest blog entry ever.</i><br />
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<b>1. Adorable black and white cat</b><br />
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We've seen this cat a few times on sunny days. It is the sweetest cat! So friendly, and always comes to see us. It acts like it owns the place, and is always on the lookout for the best patch of sun. We've seen it at four different houses, so god knows where it lives! All we know it it's so adorable!<br />
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<b>2. Funny brown-faced cat</b><br />
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This cat has been sighted at a shitty house near where we live as well as in the nice house next door to it. Very cute, but not quite brave enough to come and say hello to us.<br />
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<b>3. Mysterious ginger cat</b><br />
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We're not sure whether we've seen this cat a few times, or if different ginger cats have been sighted. This one was clearly way more interested in his sunny patch than us - just look at that face!<br />
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<b>4. The best grey cat</b><br />
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This cat is my favourite! It looks just like my old cat who died earlier this year. It was so adorable, especially since you don't see that many grey cats. The best thing was that it seemed almost as brainless as my old cat - on our way home, it started to rain. This cat was still there outside. SO cute!<br />
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<b>5. The cutest tabby cat</b><br />
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Definitely a contender for the cutest cat! Just look at that face. We've seen it a few times, and at one point, it was so well concealed in the flowerbed we almost missed it. Such a lovely cat!<br />
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<b>6. Scruffy cat</b><br />
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We've only seen this cat once, and at a rather crappy house. Gorgeous long-haired cat, but he did need a good comb and a bit of love! He had a very serious little face.<br />
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<b>7. Adorable white cat</b><br />
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Possibly the only cat friendlier than the black and white cat from the same street! This one was absolutely adorable. The boyfriend fell in love with it - not surprising, as it looked much like his old cat! This one seemed to love him as well. SO cute!! I hope we see it again soon!<br />
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<b>8. Other adorable white cat</b><br />
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This was a cat we'd seen before, but never up close. He had clipped ears, probably due to albino cats being prone to skin cancer :( He seemed to be staying in the shade, which was good! Very cute, but he was quite happy to stay lying down. We know that this house also has a jet black cat and a tabby.<br />
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<b>9. Black and white cat #2</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwk-8xtZV9W3G-PpyqmLlkcvXtG2Bj6ZXp5Stjm-FDJS4LYOlFvGD-JE_dBRdh3Jop8lhxMQPkedzLpSnJ8xvtsAjyIrysRNroINi9eyzjLHpi1jWnn0_rlMCfyBfYZG4yM_dKQYz2pkP/s1600/26.09+b:w+bent+st.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwk-8xtZV9W3G-PpyqmLlkcvXtG2Bj6ZXp5Stjm-FDJS4LYOlFvGD-JE_dBRdh3Jop8lhxMQPkedzLpSnJ8xvtsAjyIrysRNroINi9eyzjLHpi1jWnn0_rlMCfyBfYZG4yM_dKQYz2pkP/s320/26.09+b:w+bent+st.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b><br />
</b><br />
This is another cat we know. What is it with black and white cats being so adorable and friendly? This one has come out to see us before as well. I just want to take him home!<br />
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So there you go! There are many, many more cats, including Flowerpot Cat and Window Kitten. Expect more posts like this, especially with the amount of cats we've been seeing in the sunny weather. I hope you've enjoyed your daily dose of adorable, and if any of these cats are yours, can we have them? Thanks.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-37973681843849114462010-09-27T18:41:00.000+10:002010-09-27T18:41:34.954+10:00UPDATEYes I am still alive. I haven't been for a while though. Expect an update tonight! Yay! I hope you're a excited as I am, dear reader!<br />
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Mainly I'm just writing this post so that I don't cop out of doing the entry itself. I'm sorry if this is a huge letdown. I will make up for it, I promise.<br />
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In the meantime, here is a drawing I found in my "blog" folder. Unfortunately, I can't for the bloody life of me remember what it was supposed to be part of.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjPdnAHL6lSRr1oAMpRWC8zvE9CBN688m993m-NZjOsgS6EAEuVqfkgQdSmemFfw92D2ZK02AbDDaW19T_BmJhSaik87DujMA4_o0j_j-htPFBicNZHeHv-GzRrQhD-Kh8Omwpxi2wGku/s1600/YayFruit!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRjPdnAHL6lSRr1oAMpRWC8zvE9CBN688m993m-NZjOsgS6EAEuVqfkgQdSmemFfw92D2ZK02AbDDaW19T_BmJhSaik87DujMA4_o0j_j-htPFBicNZHeHv-GzRrQhD-Kh8Omwpxi2wGku/s400/YayFruit!.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Thank you.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-76738080267827401132010-09-16T19:42:00.000+10:002010-09-16T19:42:44.536+10:00The ultimate tea-making guide.Right. I am alive again, kind of. While I was dying, it occurred to me that Death By Bad Tea must be one of the leading causes of death outside of the United Kingdom. I think it's a terrible thing that there are people out there who <i>don't even know how to make tea!</i> (I'm looking at you, boyfriend). So, being the kind person that I am, I have compiled a handy guide to tea-making. It covers the most common mistakes, including the fatal tea-making errors that will make you bleed out of your eyes.<br />
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But I'm getting ahead of myself. First of all, let me present to you <b>The Good Tea Guide</b>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvqDl1hbuM47X-wBty7XR7Z7a05wqcEbKO-a4mgowsEJPr9ckhyMdlQtJSD8ryUsA-vtWOgr4JHgN3zX8889qJhYajn4gKKSz7fEXxY3M9mEQ12pKTLIilYkUd6DoDw3WMG6IAbJogSnU/s1600/tea1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvqDl1hbuM47X-wBty7XR7Z7a05wqcEbKO-a4mgowsEJPr9ckhyMdlQtJSD8ryUsA-vtWOgr4JHgN3zX8889qJhYajn4gKKSz7fEXxY3M9mEQ12pKTLIilYkUd6DoDw3WMG6IAbJogSnU/s400/tea1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
A bone china mug is important, as it preserves the tea flavour very well and keeps it hot for a long time. The white interior of the cup is also vital - how else will you monitor your tea colour? Also I think it's just offputting to drink from a mug with a dark interior.<br />
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Let me take you through the vital steps involved in making a truly amazing cuppa.<br />
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<ol><li><i>Teabag</i>, obviously. Now the only blend I will accept is English Breakfast. I recognise that there are some heathens out there who seem to enjoy the soapy taste of Earl Grey, but we'll just pretend they don't exist for now. Herbal teas are not teas; we'll cover that later. As for loose leaf tea, well, I admit I haven't had much experience with it. However, I have nothing against it and will in fact respect you if you choose to take this difficult path in tea brewing. </li>
<li><i>Sugar</i>. I take one. I don't really have any strong opinions on tea sweetening - oh wait, I do have one. My mum used to use those godawful Equal Sweettabs. They made the tea taste of Diet Coke. Foul things!</li>
<li><i>Water</i>. Now this step may seem simple, but believe me, it is fraught with difficulty! Firstly, the water MUST be boiling - if the water kind of ejaculates out of the spout of the kettle, you're doing something right. Secondly, the water must be poured from a reasonable height above the cup. This is to ensure adequate agitation of the teabag, giving you a stronger and more delicious brew. </li>
<li><i>Stir.</i> Again, a seemingly simple step that people still fuck up. Make sure the teabag is agitated enough. The tea needs to permeate the water properly, or else your tea will be weak and nasty, like <s>Earl Grey</s> dishwater. Set your teabag rotating with your spoon, and then draw the spoon out of the cup in one quick motion, allowing the teabag to rotate unhindered by the spoon. Rest the spoon on top of your cup for convenience. </li>
<li><i>Milk.</i> REMOVE YOUR TEABAG. I cannot stress this enough! Take it out and throw it in the bin. Now. Thank you. Now then, milk. Only full cream milk will do! None of this skim, low fat nonsense. There is a good reason for this - after 18 years of watching my mother use trim milk, I can assure you that it will turn your tea a nasty blue colour. Also it will taste like wee. Anyway, pour your milk and stir at the same time, so that you can monitor the colour of the tea effectively. </li>
</ol><div>Done! There, it's not so hard, is it? Well, according to lots of people, it bloody well is. Real tea is just splendid, and will probably make your day.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81H4FA6a2hAJ73ZF6MQ3sGErxkNHLxX7Z2lZYiMNlvJGTu7R7NDyqIqFZW9CRcppgwmjCrUCRMZXenzBiCzhIoxOdog3KB1N60ySd3ps6ls9ZM-7YoS3SX8pB2gAG6xAfm6XyexgHo0xF/s1600/tea2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81H4FA6a2hAJ73ZF6MQ3sGErxkNHLxX7Z2lZYiMNlvJGTu7R7NDyqIqFZW9CRcppgwmjCrUCRMZXenzBiCzhIoxOdog3KB1N60ySd3ps6ls9ZM-7YoS3SX8pB2gAG6xAfm6XyexgHo0xF/s400/tea2.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Bad tea, on the other hand, will make you dribble uncontrollably and bleed out of your eyes.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoYDzAkTdB7c_J7Ku4ZaK71bzakKmPNmUkQ5-yWQT8yGnwD4xy8qurJXMIKzOpXjLCeB-nkaZnKoD6QGJyGXvzOxck87mQ1Zb-izPtSQkZxTaiSaHUK9POxALPHNCSnmNhEURSVGlBLRl/s1600/tea3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoYDzAkTdB7c_J7Ku4ZaK71bzakKmPNmUkQ5-yWQT8yGnwD4xy8qurJXMIKzOpXjLCeB-nkaZnKoD6QGJyGXvzOxck87mQ1Zb-izPtSQkZxTaiSaHUK9POxALPHNCSnmNhEURSVGlBLRl/s400/tea3.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Clearly, this is not good for your overall health and wellbeing. So WHY do people make so many stupid mistakes while making tea? </div><div><br />
</div><div>Firstly, people assume that things like herbal "tea" and skim "milk" are a good idea.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjrGiLFT2yrONhRrqSJBR-CLpAzE4RWeBOLMyqmrs-tcvXSnCTCpjsObe2mT8DAEOHMaOpLR9j6VC14RLTorxU7VRkX8d1wlVpg1EtLYvYr0t3viDnH2HMe-6UO3p1DvHkdzY8VOn_5Ns/s1600/tea4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjrGiLFT2yrONhRrqSJBR-CLpAzE4RWeBOLMyqmrs-tcvXSnCTCpjsObe2mT8DAEOHMaOpLR9j6VC14RLTorxU7VRkX8d1wlVpg1EtLYvYr0t3viDnH2HMe-6UO3p1DvHkdzY8VOn_5Ns/s400/tea4.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Herbal (oh, and fruit) teas are just abhorrent. They are also most misleading! Fruit teas smell so wonderful, and yet when you taste them ... well, there's no taste. It's all just smell. I might as well be drinking a mug of boiling water while sniffing a blackcurrant. Not impressed. Also, the kind of people who drink herbal and fruit teas should be avoided at all costs. They are probably activists and own numerous items of clothing made out of hemp.</div><div><br />
</div><div>As for skim milk, well we covered this earlier! <i>It makes your tea blue.</i> You got the message? Good. I will not take any responsibility for your foul tea made with devil milk. </div><div><br />
</div><div>However, of all the deadly tea-making sins (did I mention that some people people put the milk in BEFORE the water?! AHHHH! This INSULATES the teabag, making it next to impossible for any delicious tea to seep through! Why would you do this to yourself!) I think the worst one of all would have to be something that I have thankfully never experienced first-hand. Legend has it that those ridiculous Americans hardly even know what an electric kettle is. They also seem to think you have to specify "hot tea" to get a cuppa, or else you'll get ICED TEA which is just as repulsive as fruit/herbal tea. Clearly they know nothing about tea-making. So next time you go to an American's house and request tea, prepare yourself for the following. I hear this is quite common. Are you ready?</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>They use WARM WATER to make tea. Out of the TAP.</b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3AhXQkrbuPru_U3yMFK610mOs5K-E35l7KvXlQukmVkPIYjqf7qILxsZ4LSBTpiegsEpLzlL1xdGFF5oYtviG2bUSiBXc5Tcg71sVJ7KVnCV5pghIeghTZWcoqKfSC_z8O1KXdT9Q0BW/s1600/tea5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP3AhXQkrbuPru_U3yMFK610mOs5K-E35l7KvXlQukmVkPIYjqf7qILxsZ4LSBTpiegsEpLzlL1xdGFF5oYtviG2bUSiBXc5Tcg71sVJ7KVnCV5pghIeghTZWcoqKfSC_z8O1KXdT9Q0BW/s400/tea5.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><b><u><br />
</u></b></div><div>This is so wrong on so many levels!!! I actually have nightmares about this!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Ok. Breathe.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So there you have it, your guide to a perfect cuppa, every time!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Some people may have other opinions, but mine is always right. Yep.</div>Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-69557380472490521832010-09-14T18:11:00.000+10:002010-09-14T18:11:05.356+10:00FFFF-I keep trying to post, but I think I'm dying. I feel full of death and unhappiness. Translated, that means I have a bothersome cough and am very lethargic. Apparently, this also means I can't draw or write very well.<br />
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One of the worst things about being sick is that I can't have caffeine. Normally, caffeine makes everything right with the world. When I'm ill, however, it makes me feel like everyone's trying to kill me and my heart beats so fast I feel like it's going to come bursting through my chest and go bouncing off down the road at any small surprise. This isn't good. I can't even have my 87487456 cups of tea per day! However I bought some hot chocolate mix today, which makes everything slightly better. I need my hot drinks, otherwise I morph into something with roughly the looks and disposition of Margaret Thatcher. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?<br />
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One more piece of news for the day! In <a href="http://superslopsy.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-live-in-really-weird-place-part-i.html">this post</a>, you will recall (being the loyal readers you are) my mention of the Patra House. Well the other day, when I wasn't dying, I went past and it was open again! This was very exciting. It is much, much bigger on the inside than on the outside! I think it's actually the TARDIS. Anyway, there was some sort of Romanian gathering going on in there. There was a little table at the entranceway with a vase on it. Sellotaped to the vase was a sign that said "EKE". I don't know whether that means "welcome, good Romanian friends" or "set foot in this place without a membership card and you DIE". Open to interpretation, I suppose. There were a good few people milling around the bar (at 2:30pm, psh, who drinks then!) and one of them had come out for a smoke. Once again, it was a bit of a letdown and didn't have nearly enough mafia-type action for my liking.<br />
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Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to post something with pretty pictures. Fingers crossed I don't die in the night!Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-24796167464084623042010-09-12T10:33:00.000+10:002010-09-12T10:33:38.057+10:00This happens at least once a week.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Ocl4818ImZUSbprKEWnuGv0xP1nl0vtdkjFWjKgpHh1l85JF5clT473EhoAWcJDOD3j2XdLqaHuYNnsFe7ttYB4IWSNMRe3EP1CS_rLCIVLpFokaVhTdLxpj4SIXsajVzcRqQYT6IYZy/s1600/6months1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Ocl4818ImZUSbprKEWnuGv0xP1nl0vtdkjFWjKgpHh1l85JF5clT473EhoAWcJDOD3j2XdLqaHuYNnsFe7ttYB4IWSNMRe3EP1CS_rLCIVLpFokaVhTdLxpj4SIXsajVzcRqQYT6IYZy/s320/6months1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnmjhVjUgFHqFHNmoymYK0iwyFC1syeNBagq_dieWurJ5WFcXOI8ZeA5TJizvdM-VghACO2Rb86TMoLlVVYkbxKHDUFeZb2KQ6MoHv2IjpeyWxiIycO_gpbc6IWmBBTZwzgxsh37W6-1A/s1600/6months2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnmjhVjUgFHqFHNmoymYK0iwyFC1syeNBagq_dieWurJ5WFcXOI8ZeA5TJizvdM-VghACO2Rb86TMoLlVVYkbxKHDUFeZb2KQ6MoHv2IjpeyWxiIycO_gpbc6IWmBBTZwzgxsh37W6-1A/s320/6months2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAhCCq8xqe6oW19vq0nM83pwZm_95oXHuzaaSP60SChb28TO-VLGN6E6PF9gEu-VM1xu_visXeN-P-ZhtVbqfCnP0MIXED3PRlbfD761k6pGkSD9OtxOkim8dWrenHfO_Syt7vAPK3QXd/s1600/6months3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAhCCq8xqe6oW19vq0nM83pwZm_95oXHuzaaSP60SChb28TO-VLGN6E6PF9gEu-VM1xu_visXeN-P-ZhtVbqfCnP0MIXED3PRlbfD761k6pGkSD9OtxOkim8dWrenHfO_Syt7vAPK3QXd/s320/6months3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Please tell me I'm not the only one who automatically thinks of this. Also, I think in the third photo, I unintentionally drew a picture of <a href="http://www.wyattroy.com.au/">Wyatt Roy</a>.<br />
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In addition to this, for an embarrassingly long period of time, I thought that <i>neé</i> indicated that the person was born of the opposite gender. No, really, because the first instance of this I saw was something like <i>Lisa Williams (neé Steven)</i>. It was one of those lame people who had a first name as their last name. Most confusing. I think I only realised the truth when I was about 15. Thankfully, I was never in a situation where this woeful misjudgment would come to light.<br />
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That's all for today. It's Sunday and I'm going to Max Brenner.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-64038958080154177492010-09-11T11:31:00.000+10:002010-09-11T11:31:23.787+10:00I live in a really weird place, part II<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://superslopsy.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-live-in-really-weird-place-part-i.html">Part I</a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Yes, I am quite aware that I could have easily put all of these together in one post. Never mind, I'm sure huge posts are intimidating anyway. Let us continue with our tour of Melbourne's outer suburbs!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#4: That weird shop next to Con's</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs533TILobtkYhTzzBRAfTmOS46vOURf4q2cP99N3mjAKbmhdMtVNpkaEM9rY5ADawj7CDBmBVn4dIR6uYWLSHuDybH0FCYHTav8AYjaHyzoKMqHPFktb6JCcaHy7xZow8sHmv42ohm-5A/s1600/WeirdShopNextToCons.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs533TILobtkYhTzzBRAfTmOS46vOURf4q2cP99N3mjAKbmhdMtVNpkaEM9rY5ADawj7CDBmBVn4dIR6uYWLSHuDybH0FCYHTav8AYjaHyzoKMqHPFktb6JCcaHy7xZow8sHmv42ohm-5A/s320/WeirdShopNextToCons.png" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">This one was pointed out to me by the boyfriend. He mentioned that some nights when he'd been going by on the tram, he'd seen the lights on in this previously-thought-to-be-abandoned shop. Recently, I saw it too! Any shop with a graffiti-covered frontage and mouldy-looking lace curtains drawn at all times should arouse suspicion instantly. If it doesn't arouse suspicion, then you're clearly just not suspicious enough, so there! Anyway. The first time I went past this place when the lights were on, I wasn't able to see anything through the tantalisingly non-curtained window at the top. However, the second time, I noticed two things:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><ol><li>The shop was partitioned into two. Nothing could be seen in the right-hand side of the shop.</li>
<li>There was all kinds of Chinese pictures up on the walls.</li>
</ol>Prior to these observations, I thought the shop must be some kind of mafia hangout. But after this, my mind immediately went "brothel brothel BROTHEL!" As it is prone to doing. But come on, that's a pretty shitty brothel. It doesn't even have a "Thai Massage" sign up in the window. So maybe they're just trafficking drugs in there, which is a lot more boring.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And no, I have never been to Con's. I don't know if the hamburgers really are a con and are actually made out of asbestos. All I know is that I want to work there so that I can see who works in the brothel.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#5: Is it a house or is it a garden?</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGqIo9da8yRmX4WjI-_0W2NYA-E9RxoSNyZOodWynPredmx_CnTNmnNGWkEtuaxKnm3GWjDmyWTZpEgEMhcnW1CWsA6P-HgjFNIq-AwgBRpP5A8UQ1CgUdBLMykv7KHlfAK1FRs-W82xW/s1600/HouseORGarden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGqIo9da8yRmX4WjI-_0W2NYA-E9RxoSNyZOodWynPredmx_CnTNmnNGWkEtuaxKnm3GWjDmyWTZpEgEMhcnW1CWsA6P-HgjFNIq-AwgBRpP5A8UQ1CgUdBLMykv7KHlfAK1FRs-W82xW/s320/HouseORGarden.jpg" /></a></div><br />
This one really fucked with my head the first time I walked past it. I just ... WHY. WHY WHY WHY. Most of the other houses around here are normal, sort of. And then you stumble across a forest in the middle of Melbourne's northern suburbs. I really, really can't explain this one.<br />
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<ol><li>They just don't have enough space in their already-quite-ample garden?</li>
<li>They're trying to camouflage themselves in preparation for an attack from bicycle-roof-shop (just wait, I'll explain). </li>
<li>They're trying to see how dumb the cops are around here - is it really possible to grow crops of weed on one's roof?</li>
<li>Hot, hot plant/weatherboard sex.</li>
</ol>If I ever come up with an explanation for this, you'll hear about it here first.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#6: Fucking awful brick building!</span><br />
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjxTyfc0K1p-31hxkebi2J49jfOpkNJgC70JPgQwnSj6OazMcn_6uQcGOfiJJ8Bwvoo3nk_5atiN-QOCACSpXPJri4qc00-xYk1tnoCnx1T3OrfkY2cm2ZhT0W88voODbAQmPVkLGEj4z/s1600/Ew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQjxTyfc0K1p-31hxkebi2J49jfOpkNJgC70JPgQwnSj6OazMcn_6uQcGOfiJJ8Bwvoo3nk_5atiN-QOCACSpXPJri4qc00-xYk1tnoCnx1T3OrfkY2cm2ZhT0W88voODbAQmPVkLGEj4z/s320/Ew.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span><br />
There are an unfortunate number of shitty brick buildings around here. Sometime in the 60s, some property developers decided it would be a GREAT idea to knock down large numbers of beautiful Victorian terraces, and replace them with awful brick edifices with roughly the same amount of personality as John Key. Good going, guys. But really, most of them aren't notable enough to include in a blog entry about interesting buildings. But oh god. OH GOD. This one is just so, so awful.<br />
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First, it is fucking huge. I think there's about 25 apartments in it. And these apartments are grim. This thing is on one of my usual walking routes, and the bridge that crosses the highway offers a great view into the lives of these poor souls. The rooms are roughly 1cm x 2cm, and oh boy they look DAMP. I'm sure roaches are an issue. On one side of the building you get a view of the sound barrier next to the highway, and on the other side you get an interesting view into your neighbour's bathroom. Some rooms, I'm sure, don't actually have windows.<br />
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I'm not sure what these poor people did to deserve living in such a massive shithole. Maybe they voted for Tony Abbott. That would probably explain things.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#7: Bicycle-roof shop</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYHt1Rti4vpSOaX0DBCGchuRp_FvpPzVnxUxYKMGR-vNYP-bYs13pIv9f51DD8uIcIYyLmI2XMXmSRBHAvAbv3aO33_OChHI-d-2NR3zNHQ30MWMAsTZjtRQElV8d3lb5wJYJsFV7gWXd/s1600/BicycleShop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYHt1Rti4vpSOaX0DBCGchuRp_FvpPzVnxUxYKMGR-vNYP-bYs13pIv9f51DD8uIcIYyLmI2XMXmSRBHAvAbv3aO33_OChHI-d-2NR3zNHQ30MWMAsTZjtRQElV8d3lb5wJYJsFV7gWXd/s320/BicycleShop.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I DON'T KNOW I REALLY DON'T KNOW.<br />
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The boyfriend and I saw this one very late at night while walking home from a gig. Just like Weird Shop Next To Con's, this was one that we just assumed was abandoned. But oh no, of course not! Nothing is ever as it seems around here!<br />
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As always, the mouldy lace curtains were closed and the front of the shop looked like it hadn't been used since 1972. However, through the small window at the top, I could see a few things. It had a bike hanging from the ceiling, as well as a Chinese lantern. This only leads me to one conclusion:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Mafia crafts and handiwork club!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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Thank you. I hope you enjoyed your tour of Melbourne's weirdo buildings. There are probably hundreds more, but I'm really sick of drawing buildings now. </div>Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-6214096206199430242010-09-10T15:30:00.000+10:002010-09-10T15:30:55.177+10:00I live in a really weird place, part IHere in Melbourne, it's not hard to stumble upon unusual/creepy/intriguing buildings wherever you go. Which is kind of weird - this never happened in Auckland. The most exciting thing around my neigbourhood in Auckland was this one busted up old house on the way to the beach, in which Long Bay College students had sex and smoked parsley and had sex with parsley and smoked their own bodily fluids. Here, things are far more exciting. You never know what you might find around the corner! Here, let me take you on a tour.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#1: Amazing silver tinfoil alien house</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbH4i2dD2mS0YMMUPW1t-1GrIomgtcAUKPRErJEwrTtCF4vBw-xU_Q1RtKc6r8bllYwIMhr_eph_sFlEcSQ5r29ys5tI2qu1DfWOV6eTLQm_z5bv-8eyuM28HQr-YNscWJI5oL3CENy2ty/s1600/SilverHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbH4i2dD2mS0YMMUPW1t-1GrIomgtcAUKPRErJEwrTtCF4vBw-xU_Q1RtKc6r8bllYwIMhr_eph_sFlEcSQ5r29ys5tI2qu1DfWOV6eTLQm_z5bv-8eyuM28HQr-YNscWJI5oL3CENy2ty/s320/SilverHouse.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span><br />
I noticed this as I was going past on the tram one day. It really does look like someone decided to glue sheets of heavy-duty tinfoil over every available surface of their house. I'm sure there are many logical explanations for this strange behaviour.<br />
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<ol><li>Aliens are coming and the owners of this house need to deflect their incoming radio waves.</li>
<li>Matt Bellamy lives here.</li>
<li>They're trying to blind all their neighbours. Just try looking at this fucking thing on a sunny day! You will actually go blind and die. </li>
<li>Their house is actually made of weatherboards. I would understand completely if this was the case. I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">hate</span> weatherboards. When you have weatherboards, anything is an improvement.</li>
</ol>But all in all, this behaviour is truly bizarre. In addition to this, I have seen a number of houses nearby with the same tinfoil stuff over seemingly random windows of their house. Tinfoil wars are ON!<div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#2: The Patra House</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGg6arOtnEWCGFkoUnkT-XYGdWCgiv77O1NVm0gSts-5uG6ul8mszIwYP_6VnWevt7Wn0MjzFHhQk4m83EBaMQIZKhHONcHLRgqi37i72MGjMtQ25c5f6WLedL0mFBJGKwtys2uTnwH1TL/s1600/ThePatraHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGg6arOtnEWCGFkoUnkT-XYGdWCgiv77O1NVm0gSts-5uG6ul8mszIwYP_6VnWevt7Wn0MjzFHhQk4m83EBaMQIZKhHONcHLRgqi37i72MGjMtQ25c5f6WLedL0mFBJGKwtys2uTnwH1TL/s320/ThePatraHouse.jpg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div>(Note: The Patra House actually does have more windows. I just forgot. But they also have blinds closed at all times). </div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>This one has intrigued me since I first visited Melbourne. The thing is, it's probably something totally innocuous. There are millions of immigrants around here and I guess they need somewhere to gather. There's an Estonian House just down the road. But still, The Patra House still manages to arouse suspicion. Earlier this year, there was a Romanian flag up in the window. Romanian nationalists, perhaps? The "MEMBERS ONLY" sign in the window is hardly welcoming to any passing Romanian. And that raises the question of how on earth does one actually BECOME a member in the first place?</div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>Whilst the blinds are always drawn and the door is always firmly shut, one day the boyfriend and I had the good fortune to walk by while someone was inside. They had carelessly left the door ajar! All thoughts of getting stabbed and shot fled my mind as the Curiosity Beast awoke. I peered in. Disappointingly, there wasn't all that much to see. It had a bar and kitchen, which looked nice and clean, and a large space on the floor, presumably for when the members want to engage in some crazy Romanian dancing. </div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>I think the strangest thing about The Patra House, though, is the sign on the side of it. It says something like "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">LP gas conversions and EFI specialists</span>". </div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>...</div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>Somehow I don't think that's what goes on in there. </div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>So The Patra House is a little bit weird, and I am certainly tempted to put a letter in their letterbox asking how I can become a member and if I have to perform any strange rituals to join. But I'm scared of them setting my house and fire and harvesting my organs, so perhaps this wouldn't be the best course of action. However! There are more weird buildings to come. Move along now ...</div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">#3: Disgusting drug house</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpN3weO7lXu5lAAZ5VaoZNVk3CmbaWeFSFvxJexG6qD6i5vnl-rUXqbzplQTY9OiBXto5neUpQuRJijPKeKuhCLofes8eOJMU2tBcts9cAORSCAAdAXP65pZ6FIkJ4dt1X6pzguoVe_rH/s1600/AlbionDrugHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpN3weO7lXu5lAAZ5VaoZNVk3CmbaWeFSFvxJexG6qD6i5vnl-rUXqbzplQTY9OiBXto5neUpQuRJijPKeKuhCLofes8eOJMU2tBcts9cAORSCAAdAXP65pZ6FIkJ4dt1X6pzguoVe_rH/s320/AlbionDrugHouse.jpg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span></div><div>Eeew. This place is pretty revolting. I'm quite sure it's a crack house. But for god's sake, if you really want to have a crack house, why don't you try making it a little less obvious?!?! Anyway. Several times, I've walked by this place and noticed cars out the front. These have always been really nice new cars, which are totally incongruous to the surroundings. Once there was a nice black Mercedes van, driven by a little Asian fellow. I tried to see if there was anything in the back of the van, but the windows were tinted. Hmm ...</div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div>One day, when a nice shiny red car was parked out the front, I noticed that the gate to the left of the house was open. Behind the gate, things were even more dire than they appeared from the front. There was a fucking terrifying dog - I think it was a pitbull or something. There was also a garage full of all manner of shit, and some kind of abortion which I think once might have been a garden shed. This place is mental. For ages, I just assumed it was abandoned, as there are a number of abandoned places around here. But no, those fancy cars proved me wrong! Very queer indeed. I wish I lived across the road from this place. I would love to see what goes on. I would also be terrified of having my house set on fire when the crackheads see me up there with my binoculars, but whatever. </div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Next time:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Creepy shop next to takeaway place!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">House with garden on roof!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Ceiling-bike shop!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Fucking awful brick building!</span></div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div><div><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></div>Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-81368901613175956832010-09-09T14:20:00.000+10:002010-09-09T14:20:49.479+10:00I nearly got killed by a crow today.I promise, this post contains not a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">hint</span> of exaggeration. It's all perfectly true.<br />
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As I may have mentioned before, I am moderately retarded when I out on my own. Bad things just seem to happen to me. So today when I went to go to the supermarket, I considered it a minor miracle that I had actually managed to arrive at the supermarket without getting run over, mugged, kidnapped or converted to Scientology. However, it was silly of me to think that my luck would hold.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiP_wM5tEOz6ED1dHPpTIcWlt9JpCJcUijxAOMio4OdUSHFd5_Aw3jedreXN-UeAN3X5Y6CG7TLhm8V91JTfqqqP2BjvDBbURpHEc_XFFoI-1ediIPUcbNCP-GL-xrfNIiGiOO4dwhZsjQ/s1600/Shopping01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiP_wM5tEOz6ED1dHPpTIcWlt9JpCJcUijxAOMio4OdUSHFd5_Aw3jedreXN-UeAN3X5Y6CG7TLhm8V91JTfqqqP2BjvDBbURpHEc_XFFoI-1ediIPUcbNCP-GL-xrfNIiGiOO4dwhZsjQ/s320/Shopping01.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I don't like Australian birds. I'm used to birdsong being a peaceful sort of thing. I don't want to wake up every morning to the sound of lawnmowers raping each other to the music of Impaled Northern Moonforest. One day, I told a crow to shut up. It started to follow me, cawing at me incessantly. It was terrifying. Since then, I think the fuckers have been out to get me. They're <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">following</span> me, I tell you.<br />
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So I rounded the corner, ready to stride confidently through the entrance to the supermarket, when I was confronted by THIS:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSLeciQ0SAF5rPOmFKT8a1joSIAdZEGs9zkIGX273Zpn5NYxSjp31jE6df8vhnvpJth6jVUS0nFicvzqS64XsLqNckJVP3sZdr1tyT90KcwYS66OobTDoWEGhBhFB-z8Y1meYBL3QO5sP/s1600/Shopping02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSLeciQ0SAF5rPOmFKT8a1joSIAdZEGs9zkIGX273Zpn5NYxSjp31jE6df8vhnvpJth6jVUS0nFicvzqS64XsLqNckJVP3sZdr1tyT90KcwYS66OobTDoWEGhBhFB-z8Y1meYBL3QO5sP/s320/Shopping02.jpg" /></a></div><br />
This was the biggest crow I've ever seen in my life. Death was radiating from this thing in waves. This crow wanted blood and it wanted it NOW. To put things in perspective, here is a picture of the crow next to the sun. THAT is how big and deadly and horrible this crow was.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVj6o9lrnQ5aF0CfAUuZ1gq6m-iP46BuVU_DxGK0HkbIrGVyLqKV3sAn3bWSS01AJW6ry8x0T_L7jcocnkDqzR5BctR7jPDe91Hpm2gsV-VdHpjjoKC9fI9Vwtd1d2ViH-QrFnBUhxMhB/s1600/Shopping03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVj6o9lrnQ5aF0CfAUuZ1gq6m-iP46BuVU_DxGK0HkbIrGVyLqKV3sAn3bWSS01AJW6ry8x0T_L7jcocnkDqzR5BctR7jPDe91Hpm2gsV-VdHpjjoKC9fI9Vwtd1d2ViH-QrFnBUhxMhB/s320/Shopping03.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I didn't want this big black fucker (no, that's not racist) to get in the way of my precious grocery shopping. I needed my tomatoes and bacon and cheese and I needed them NOW. So I bravely took a step towards the beast from hell.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3U9mj1RM8yr68cTjP1w6vVPE308l9zT8CpkpoN_0wyblQY2w_vqP-XMW1vbRYWFg7OYYIfg-B8hibJYv2FJHBoSxopBvSAOexf6z9lHFsVvEjM3KlFqGZ3VnIB2aGcWcYPzQVnz-JMqW/s1600/Shopping04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3U9mj1RM8yr68cTjP1w6vVPE308l9zT8CpkpoN_0wyblQY2w_vqP-XMW1vbRYWFg7OYYIfg-B8hibJYv2FJHBoSxopBvSAOexf6z9lHFsVvEjM3KlFqGZ3VnIB2aGcWcYPzQVnz-JMqW/s320/Shopping04.jpg" /></a></div><br />
"CAW" roughly translates to "get the FUCK away from my bin, you filthy miserable excuse for a human being. I own this place now! Within weeks, this whole city will be taken over by my family, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it! Why don't you just go home now, you dirty foreigner. Go back to the land of real birds that sing properly and don't attack you when you're trying to walk to the shops! You're not AUSTRALIAN enough for me!"<br />
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At this point, I was quite certain that I was going to die. I wanted to take out my phone and call the boyfriend and tell him to sell my body to science, but I was afraid the crow might mistake it for some delicious roadkill and bite my hand off.<br />
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But then, I took a closer look at the crow. I used what little brainpower I had left and realised that since this crow was roughly equivalent to a walrus in weight, I could simply run nimbly past the crow and be in the safety of Coles before it had even raised a wing. Although Brain assured me that this was the right thing to do, I couldn't help but picture morbid scenarios involving my eyes being pecked out and my arms being eaten and the crow dragging me away to its lair so that I wouldn't be found until the boyfriend got hungry and wanted me to cook him some bacon and then realised I wasn't home, so he would go out and try to find me but instead just find an eyeball and perhaps a toe at the entrance to Coles.<br />
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But I bravely pushed this terrifying scenarios out of my head, closed my eyes and ran for it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZshtLiLP5Mo7aCCkpPMOwmJ4xMTqB2VZyG8NBBC9aJUVQMvi2yBgfSgQ8XCEePHmpLINEvtR_sE3gF0MomrffvB87A9bCncXgyylvhgCXr30Ijed0uPz767RjgZ_F7XTQCqZd-toUJrkb/s1600/Shopping05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZshtLiLP5Mo7aCCkpPMOwmJ4xMTqB2VZyG8NBBC9aJUVQMvi2yBgfSgQ8XCEePHmpLINEvtR_sE3gF0MomrffvB87A9bCncXgyylvhgCXr30Ijed0uPz767RjgZ_F7XTQCqZd-toUJrkb/s320/Shopping05.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The next thing I knew, I was safely inside! I couldn't believe I'd made it! Buying my groceries made me happy to be alive! I would get to taste coffee and eat bacon and violently attack the boyfriend whenever I wanted to! Oh, joy of joys.<br />
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And thankfully, the bastard had gone when I left. It was probably dragging the mangled remains of a small child underneath the shopping centre.<br />
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Birds are evil.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-59861423618581539532010-09-08T15:30:00.000+10:002010-09-08T15:30:25.445+10:00Why you shouldn't try foreign things.Recently, I discovered through one of my favourite <a href="http://www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com/">websites</a> that in Russia, it is perfectly natural to drink one's tea with jam in it. Now, I am a tea puritan and as such, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even be tempted to tamper with my tea in such a dangerous manner. However, this time curiosity got the better of me. It was one of those cases of "I love tea! I love jam! How can this possibly fail???"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3oRDniZXBhHOCCw7MTwDdOLUXtTmxY7J3pq5YD0V3CkakClIAh-RKhdeiv6T1ChFMWw-7wXhjxiqaPXqHtWw_N0sIOyurtu_3MlezqD_TeBdfHMp0mhX08Ciw_w_yH61esBRgqiQel0O/s1600/JamTea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3oRDniZXBhHOCCw7MTwDdOLUXtTmxY7J3pq5YD0V3CkakClIAh-RKhdeiv6T1ChFMWw-7wXhjxiqaPXqHtWw_N0sIOyurtu_3MlezqD_TeBdfHMp0mhX08Ciw_w_yH61esBRgqiQel0O/s320/JamTea.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now, I had such faith because I have tried unusual food combinations in the past and they have actually WORKED. The best example of this would be chocolate bacon (which I keep meaning to make for the boyfriend. Oops). It was just the perfect combination of sweet and savoury, nice and crispy, like an orgasm in miniature. Truly glorious. But anyway, as you may have already gathered, the same experience was not to be had with the jammy tea. Just because two things are nice separately does not mean they should be combined under ANY circumstances EVER. <br />
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I looked up brewing instructions on the ever-helpful Wikipedia, and as instructed, I made a cup of strong black tea with no sugar. I think this was already a harbinger of disaster. I HATE black tea. But anyhow, I proceeded to add two large spoonfuls of blackberry jam. I stirred it for ages and ages and ages and it still refused to dissolve. Horrid little bits of seed kept floating to the top of the cup. But by this time I had committed myself to it, and I raised it to my lips for the first sip.<br />
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It actually wasn't all that bad to start off with. It was unusual, but at least the jam took the foul edge off the bitter black tea. However, the more I drank, the fouler it got. Here are my feelings in graph format:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6CQeq5nLknLk0BvgwSu0LMZX40VcIaCiiDfxojhXs_-j3i70uxJPu3WUkUNBgla-1oCTvGqkHvB1ytEaHol0q3kBmLn8HKBJ14WbbsV8JqX4S_lxlepRV7-WfLwIK2VvrYw5asMSAvhr/s1600/JamTeaGraph.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP6CQeq5nLknLk0BvgwSu0LMZX40VcIaCiiDfxojhXs_-j3i70uxJPu3WUkUNBgla-1oCTvGqkHvB1ytEaHol0q3kBmLn8HKBJ14WbbsV8JqX4S_lxlepRV7-WfLwIK2VvrYw5asMSAvhr/s320/JamTeaGraph.png" /></a></div>I actually did manage to force myself to drink the whole bloody thing. The last couple of swallows were the most repulsive of all. My mouth was filled by this disgusting berry sediment - and you should all know my feelings on SEDIMENT. Ptooey! (That was me spitting). I think afterwards I looked something like this:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3H2TnwsRbCH2t1I7t6aGyoO_5iA_68Hd4A1bP26xfCwpQjgZisTIZ7HyZIR8och3F038T6XIifn2QwnQnVNHDQ8CEPGQOlOXn3EV5wdnRfD9seyK6N328vXblH04JgyndCDQOaysWkOp/s1600/Whywhywhy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3H2TnwsRbCH2t1I7t6aGyoO_5iA_68Hd4A1bP26xfCwpQjgZisTIZ7HyZIR8och3F038T6XIifn2QwnQnVNHDQ8CEPGQOlOXn3EV5wdnRfD9seyK6N328vXblH04JgyndCDQOaysWkOp/s320/Whywhywhy.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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I had to drink about 16787561 cups of normal-person tea before I recovered. Actually, speaking of normal-person tea, remind me to do a blog one day on correct tea-brewing etiquette.<br />
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So obviously my lesson for the day is to never try foreign foods ever, no matter how tempting the combinations of things may sound.<br />
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I realise this lesson is rather silly considering that foreign food makes up most of my diet, but you get the idea!Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-1424357331999477352010-09-08T11:52:00.000+10:002010-09-08T11:53:41.120+10:00All university enrolment systems hate me.I realised that obviously I don't have to put the date and time up here because the internet is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">magical</span> and does it for me.<br />
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Anyway, I went to apply to VTAC again today. For those who don't know, that's the system I have to use to apply for university in Australia. They sent me an email saying that they had fixed whatever problem I was having with it last time, so I felt brave enough to have a go. Well yes, the course application thing worked fine, but I wanted to look at the scholarship application page also. Do you think this worked at all? Of COURSE NOT. And then of course I realised that I was actually going to have to pay for this, and I don't actually have any money, so I gave up and made a cup of tea instead.<br />
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This is a rather familiar situation. Back in 2008, I had to brave the woes of nDeva, the University of Auckland's horrible sadistic excuse for an enrolment program. I don't know what kind of sick, twisted person was behind this, but making life easier for struggling first-years was definitely not at the top of their agenda. Thinking about it, it was probably someone like me. But anyway, exactly the same thing happened - I shouted at it for a while, tore out my hair, and then gave up and went to make a cup of tea.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvY8SZ7Y7iEB7FVNEcfcS9wvTFTFPjFBb8NYQHwWdG9AQB8OhbgSnBxNWPkm-aDolK3Mmio-ER92jV4P10R0BH9_rRR9qZJE9o_w9XaFi-6mGoaHl_2fUVMtfiGwSJTTVaXbEdAxxxnoea/s1600/EnrolmentHatesMe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvY8SZ7Y7iEB7FVNEcfcS9wvTFTFPjFBb8NYQHwWdG9AQB8OhbgSnBxNWPkm-aDolK3Mmio-ER92jV4P10R0BH9_rRR9qZJE9o_w9XaFi-6mGoaHl_2fUVMtfiGwSJTTVaXbEdAxxxnoea/s320/EnrolmentHatesMe.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Why do universities make things so horribly difficult? </span>Do they want us to hate the place before we even start? Well of course they do. They'd be doing things wrong otherwise. I swear to god, using nDeva is more challenging than my actual degree. I think you should get course points for successfully enrolling for a semester. It'd be more beneficial than doing *lowtone* gen ed.<br />
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But at least there is one bright side this time. Even though I don't get any government benefits over here, at least I don't have to deal with fucking CENTRELINK. I don't think I can handle going through that. I'm still recovering from my woeful experiences with Studylink. I think the government should start rehabilitation programs for those poor souls who have been forced to deal with such a gigantic heap of shit.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-31085122137404294612010-09-07T19:37:00.001+10:002010-09-07T19:44:25.180+10:00I think this is what happened?I could be wrong though.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img190.imageshack.us/img190/9209/abbottvsgillardawesome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://img190.imageshack.us/img190/9209/abbottvsgillardawesome.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Also the timezone on this thing is wrong. Halp.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-55937172057739832712010-09-07T15:44:00.000+10:002010-09-07T15:44:42.705+10:00Well that's exciting then.07.09.2010 | 3:42pm<br />
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Current mood: Oh thank fucking Christ.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.apnonline.com.au/img/media/images/2010/06/24/MDM_25-06-2010_ROP_01_julia%20gillard_t325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://media.apnonline.com.au/img/media/images/2010/06/24/MDM_25-06-2010_ROP_01_julia%20gillard_t325.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><br />
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Ok so after about 1754145648845 years of waiting, Gillard can form government.<br />
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1. Thank JESUS we don't have to endure Abbott's flapping ears in Parliament for three years.<br />
2. Oh, is that it? I'm kind of anticlimactic. I wanted another one. Well, another one, in which the leaders of the two major parties fought to the death and Christine Milne encouraged Gillard by using her water feature to spray in Abbott's eyes.<br />
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... I think I need to draw that. Maybe I will when I get home from coffee training like a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">tiger.</span>Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-21166131980529327852010-09-06T22:06:00.000+10:002010-09-06T22:06:02.262+10:00To aid escape06.09.2010 | 9:56pm<br />
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Currently watching: Q&A with Christine Milne and her chamomile lawn, and Bob Katter with his absence of huge hat.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">No picture today, I can't be bothered.</span><br />
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Well today has been very up and down. Ax is still very sick and that's made me a bit miserable, so let's escape from that with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Tales Of WOE </span>from the Melbourne CBD.<br />
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I had my coffee training at Pie Face today. All was well, and I learnt to make coffee like a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">tiger</span>. Then I left, and I thought:<br />
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"hmm, I know, I'll head up to Max Brenner and get some hot chocolate to take home and surprise Ax with. That'll be nice!"<br />
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Let's not forget here that I don't even know where Max Brenner IS. But I seemed to find it in the end. Perhaps I have some sort of homing device for chocolate implanted in me. I don't actually know. But as it happened, IT WAS FUCKING CLOSED. AHJFHEUIHkf. So then I stomped outside and realised it was raining.<br />
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"Oh, it's raining! Let me put up my umb- ohshit."<br />
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Umbrella was nestling in the warmth and safety of Pie Face. Fucking hell, back to Elizabeth St I go. I retrieved said umbrella, by which time it had stopped raining. At least I scored a free dinner out of this foray - steak and pepper pie, lemon pie and cheese stick. *cum*<br />
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Anyway, time to go back to the tram now. Oh shit, that's it isn't it? Just there. Perfect timing ... if I wasn't on the OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD. Raaaaahhshdgfu! So I made some mad dash and nearly got killed by a bus and ran along next to the tram and looked like a right idiot, and no, of course it didn't stop!<br />
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By this time, it had started to rain again.<br />
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With nine minutes until the next tram, I thought that I would walk up one stop, because it had a shelter and I didn't want to drown and die and drown. It looked easy. But NO, I had forgotten to factor in the Roundabout Of Death And Woe. Again, I indulged in some inexperienced jaywalking and nearly died about twelve times. I think you need to have lived in Melbourne for some time before you can just casually stroll through 15454725436 lanes of traffic. Anyway, I somehow managed to make it to the tram stop. I had just missed the 6:37 tram, and apparently one was due at 6:51. But no, it showed up at 6:45. Well fuck you too, timetable!<br />
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But that's ok. I'm home, alive and I now know that I shouldn't be let out in Melbourne without adequate supervision. Thank you for your time.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-87773311345013611712010-09-05T13:05:00.000+10:002010-09-05T13:05:07.988+10:00Back to reality05.09.2010 | 12:55pm<br />
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Current music: The Chills - Tied Up In Chain<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img85.imageshack.us/img85/5807/p1050145f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img85.imageshack.us/img85/5807/p1050145f.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">we're here to stay</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">in this crooked game</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">that we're expected to play</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br class="webkit-block-placeholder" /></span><br />
It's just kind of hit me that I have to apply for uni by the end of this month. Where the fuck has this year gone? I don't get it. I thought I wasn't going to have to worry about this for ages! I'm enjoying the break from uni, but I guess that's partially a function of my last semester being so utterly useless. I still can't believe how badly I did. Anyway, at least that just cemented my choice to do bio rather than environmental science. Ew.<br />
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But god, I am a little worried about this. I'm worried I might not get in. I don't know how good I have to be. My GPA has been dragged right down, but it was dragged down by stupid little Gen Ed subjects that don't even count. Really pissed off about that. But I guess there's no point worrying about it right now. I'm looking into scholarships too - any help would be a godsend. As a New Zealand citizen, I have to pay all my fees upfront. In a way this is good - I get a 20% discount and I won't rack up any debt (especially good as I still owe Studylink in NZ about a million dollars). But god, it's a lot of money that I'd appreciate a lot more in my pocket.<br />
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I want to go to Max Brenner. Ax is still the sickest of the sick though, so I think I'll be waiting a few more days.<br />
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Anyway, I guess I'm just killing time while I do my software updates. Apparently VTAC doesn't like my old operating system. Grr. I think I'll also have to brave UoA's new Student Services thing. Just when I'd got used to nDeva, too! Sure it was a piece of shit, but everyone figured it out in the end. Why change it now!Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7747910490209095981.post-78204741314121672522010-09-05T09:59:00.000+10:002010-09-05T09:59:23.110+10:00Phase II04.09.2010 | 1:59pm<br />
Current music: Porcupine Tree - Drown With Me<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img29.imageshack.us/img29/2259/p1070849l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img29.imageshack.us/img29/2259/p1070849l.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">buried in green</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">orange filter sky</span><br />
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Well. What is this, then? Could I really have moved into the world of technology? Indeed, it looks that way doesn't it? I guess anybody who reads this will know how fastidiously I used to keep a diary back in the olden days. I kind of stopped doing that around April, what with all the hectic stuff going on back then. But now that I'm settled now in Melbourne, I think it's time I started doing this shit again. I miss it, I really do. Not so much at the time, but I'm weird and I like to look back and see what I was doing on a certain day at a certain time. It's really weird in some cases, and to look back with that hindsight is really interesting.<br />
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But anyway. Enough about that. Where do I even start, what do I even say? It's been so long I'm kind of out of the habit. I guess you all know what happened, how at the beginning of the year I made the decision to move to Australia with my boyfriend, André. It's been a pretty big learning curve, I'll tell you that. But I've been doing so much better than I thought I would. I've been keeping myself busy, I've got myself a job in a pie shop to fill in the time and earn some money before I go back to uni next year. I'm finally finding my way around, and getting used to not having a car. God, if I was in Auckland I have no idea what I'd do without my car, but here it's so easy! I live right outside the tram stop and there are loads of buses and trains, I can get pretty much anywhere and it saves me money.<br />
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Especially when I fare evade.<br />
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But it's hard, too. Every now and then I'm just struck by how much I miss everyone, how much I miss certain places and certain routines I used to have. I even miss Foodtown a little bit! I miss my cats and my car. I miss watching Casualty and Fringe and Glee!!! But gradually I'm filling in the gaps with new things here. Now that I'm working I really feel like I belong here and have a purpose. I love the job! I'm an assistant manager at a franchise store called Pie Face. Three guesses at what it sells. I love the brand, and I feel like what I do there will actually make a difference with it being such a small company. So I'm actually motivated to take pride in my work instead of just standing around talking shit. This is going to be so good for me. Though the early mornings will be tough after so long being able to sleep in until midday every day. And my feet aren't used to being USED so much!<br />
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(Ok so it's now actually the 5th of September. I kind of forgot about this post ... oops.)<br />
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I think I'll leave it at that for now. There really isn't much more to say.<br />
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I'm happy.Charlottehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00884385984152016411noreply@blogger.com0