Have You Guys Seen This?

It's both smarmily condescending and quite funny ... especially the Jonah Hill and Sara Silverman parts.

"I'm going to take off my bra under my shirt!" Amusing.

Of course, I've never been patronised and vaguely insulted by so many celebrities in such a short amount of time. Not that it applies to any of us given that we're not American.

But still ....

A List of Things I've Broken in the Last Week

... aka Requiem for an iRiver.

1. Ben and Carol's George Foreman brand vegetable steamer. They use this thing all the time, and I messed it up when I tried washing it and got water in the wrong place. Thankfully, it looks like it's gotten better. Thank God!

2. The fairylights in my bedroom. Yes, I know how incredibly manly that is.

3. My iRiver. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. This one breaks my heart, and it happened just this morning. I was on my way to the car when I dropped my beloved iRiver on the ground. It didn't shatter, it didn't crack. It was a bit scratched but it seemed fine. I unlocked the car, got in, tried to start the player and ... nothing.

I almost cried. It felt like losing a friend.

It hurt extra bad because I'd just loaded new music onto it last night that I was looking forward to playing on my way to Ballarat today. Instead I had to listen to the ... *shudder* .... radio.

I'm currently the highest bidder on eBay for a replacement iRiver, but while my previous one was a 20 gig model, the one I'm bidding on is only 6 gig - the compromises you make when you're desperate for mobile music.

And then, almost as if to top off the day ...

4. My house key.

This one happened in the lock of the front door, otherwise known as the only door into the house. It snapped right off in the lock, with absolutely no way of wiggling it out. I immediately headed for the real estate agent, who gave me the number of their locksmith and told as I was the one who'd broken the key, it was up to me to pay for it.

$90 later, I was let back into the house.

None of this is counting how my work car keeps breaking down because motor heat seems to scramble the engine immobiliser, so I have to let it cool before it will recognise the key's electronic signature.

Fuckin' technology age.

Where's Martin Sheen When You Need Him?

I've been obsessively watching The West Wing lately (which I've been told is an "old man's show". Hmph!), so when the whole business with Obama being accused of sexism over his "lipstick on a pig" comment came to light, I couldn't help but imagine Josh Lyman pacing through the halls in one of those famous "walk-and-talk" scenes exclaiming in disbelief "They can NOT be serious!"

I mean, really, can they be serious?

Yes. Deadly.

This is the entire reason Palin was added to the ticket. It started with Obama adding an old guy as his running mate to counter-balance the revolutionary aspect of a potential black President. Anything else would have been too risky.

And the Republicans, cunning and uncanny as they are, realised that another old white guy would do nothing for them. And boy howdy, did they make the right decision.

Palin's incredibly limited degree of experience means nothing to them, which is highly ironic after all the noise they made about Obama's relatively short history in politics. Of course it means nothing. Because she's now doing for them exactly what they need her to. She's a weapon. A smokescreen tactic.

Instead of talking about legitimate issues, we're forced to go through bullshit story after bullshit story about whether or not a remark about the economy, which was completely unrelated to Palin, which is a common turn-of-phrase that McCain himself has used, was directed as a sexist attack at the Alaskan governor.

Seriously? Seriously?? Of course seriously. Because once the media gets a hold of this and blows it completely out of proportion, once Republicans go on the offensive and bring it back to their one talking point over and over again, it's this kind of comment that the loss of an election can be attributed to.

Is humanity really that stupid, to be manipulated so brazenly and so guilelessly? Yes. Time and time again, history has shown us how ready, willing and able we are to be veered off-topic, to be distracted and placated, to be given bread and circuses. In short, the whole thing is nothing more than an elaborate pantomime.

He's behind you!!!

Here's to hoping Obama can get beyond all this, not fall into anymore ridiculous traps (I swear, it's like the Republicans were waiting for any kind of vaguely female-related terms to escape his mouth so they could seize upon it and twist them to their own purposes) and we can have a genuine, focused dialogue about the kind of direction we want the world to go in.

Not that the rest of the world gets a say in it or anything...

A Quote I Love

"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.

Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate.

So it goes. ... Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

My favourite part?

Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

This is Not My Job ...

No matter what Li-Kim would have you believe (or whatever superficial similarities there may be!!).

Home Again, Home Again

I've just gotten back from my road trip and, as I was driving, it occured to me I might have been a bit of a Negative Nelly / Mister Misery / what have you in my last post. I think it was a result of having finished after a long day, pulling into a bit of a depressing motel and feeling a bit out-of-sorts.

In any case, the trip was really good (if not a bit tiring). I mean, how can you not enjoy yourself even just a little when it's a beautiful, sunny day and you're driving through countryside like this:


And best of all? This is your office.

This is all to say that, in week 2 of my new job, I'm really loving it.

(Also, I found a much nicer-looking hotel closer to the bookshops I visit in that area, which I'm definately going to bear in mind for the next trip).

Life on the Open Road

I am, right now, sitting in my motel room in the middle of my very first country sales trip. Slightly lonely, slightly boring. The hotel room is not too bad, though certainly a distinct step down from the accommodations at conference (which I keep meaning to post pictures of).

I'm sure my mood will pick up once dinner arrives. I've ordered steak with garlic sauce from room service. Fingers crossed that it's good.

UPDATE: It was not good.

Happy Birthday to the C-Bombs!!

("Angry Alice" now has me so paranoid about keeping her Internet identity a secret I am no longer using their distinctive surname).

It's September, and that means that all three Chuahdren (that won't come up in Google!!) are celebrating their birthdays. And I had completely forgotten until Ben reminded me.

So in no particular order, happy birthday to ...

... Sarah ...

... Ben ...

... and our very own beloved "Angry Alice".

You're all awesome. Don't never change.

An Ode to the Technology Age

I'm off to Albury / Wodonga tomorrow on my first overnight country sales trip. Three things that I'm so glad I have that will make the trip easier;

1) GPS navigation.


There is no way of explaining how much of a boon my Navman is. It makes life sooooo much easier, especially now that I'm on the road.

2) Direct-line in-car MP3 player jack technomabob


Nearly 3,000 songs at my fingertips, without any of the static that comes with my battery-operated transmitter? With full bass effect? Awesome!

3) Cruise control


Simone taught me how to use this, and now I can't wait to get out on the freeways to zip along at a steady 100kph!

I can't imagine what life was like on the road before all these high-tech creature comforts. PK, how did you do this whole rep thing in the analogue age? It's mind-boggling!

If I have access and can be bothered, I'll make sure to post a blog from the road. Hopefully it'll be more interesting than this one!

The Eyes Have It

The door that leads into our living room has been sticking pretty badly lately - to the point that a bit of the frame has broken, and every now and then dirt / grit / particles fall down on your head as you go through it.

Last week, as I was doing the now usual routine of pushing on the top of the door to open it, I happened to look up and get a severe piece of dirt / grit /particle / whatever square in the eye.

For the rest of the night I was whining about it like a little girl (Ben can attest to this). After hours of tears rolling down a single cheek and not being able to blink without severe discomfort, I went to bed hoping that it would shift in my sleep.

It did not.

It stayed in there for days. Eventually I got eye drops from the chemist, which I once again thought would help shift it overnight.

It did not.

I finally got an appointment with the optometrist on Thursday night. I showed up there after work at 5 o'clock. The doc took a look in my eye using his fancy machines, then told me he was going to look under the lid to make sure there wasn't anything under there.

He told me he had to invert my eyelid.

I have this thing about my eyes. I can't handle them being touched. It's not a conscious thing, they just act of their own accord. So when he told me he had to invert my eyelid, I immediately had this image in my head;


He had to attempt it a number of times, each time telling me to "relax". And in my head I'm like "IT'S NOT ME! MY EYES HAVE A MIND OF THEIR OWN!!!"

Eventually, however, he managed to invert my eyelid and get a look in there. The dirt / grit / particles had left the premises, but not without scratching up my eye. The damage is only temporary, and should heal with time.

The dumb thing is, though, that every time I go through the doorway in the hall now, I very consciously shrink away from it, practically screaming "Not my eyes! God help me, not in my eyes!!!"