clogged

Lack-luster is probably the best way to describe my mood today (at least that’s a nice way of putting ‘damn grumpy’). My doodle for this week’s Illustration Friday is just not coming together. It’s amazing how something as simple as that can have you all unraveled. I’ve been working it, and re-working it, but it’s just not happening.

In one of my more tired and grumpy moments last night (compounded by the fact that there was not a drop of milk in the house, so I couldn’t have a hot milky Milo to cheer myself up), I was going to boycott altogether. But I’ve slept on it, and will try again. So, we’ll see what tonight brings.

(Note to self: Buy milk on the way home. Better grab some chocolate too, just incase.)

batten down

It's a very windy, cold day here, and it's Sunday. This gives me two very good reasons to stay inside in my comfy warm slippers all day long! Much hot tea will be consumed, and much pottering around the house will be achieved.

I peeped out the bathroom window this morning and noticed a line of wind-worn birds, puffed up and gripping tightly along the side fence. I'd invite them inside, but I know they're too shy.

Feels good and safe inside on days like today, especially after such an upsetting week. I spent Thursday night online, emailing all my friends in London. With the time difference it was night-time here and morning there, so I waited until one by one all of them arrived at work and popped online. Each with stories to tell, and emotions to share. I'm glad to say that thanks to sleeping in, early starts, and being weened off nicorette patches, they all managed to avoid being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And although I was relieved, it still didn't help going to sleep any easier. It's horrific and painful, and makes human nature so so hard to comprehend. (Cat describes the confusion beautifully).
My head spins.

marauders map of sports avoidance

My Illustration Friday entry for 'sport'.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I haven't raised a sweat since compulsory sport at high school, but when I read this weeks theme was "Sport", I immediately thought of ways we tried to avoid it.

Every Wednesday afternoon the entire school turned into a war-zone of sports. Rackets slashing, balls flying, crowds running, ground thumping, people yelling, whistles blowing, dust rising and sweat spraying. For those of us who just wouldn't be seen without black tights and boots, our mission on sport sign-up day was to dash, with at least two friends, to the front of the ping-pong queue; the only sport which didn't involve sweat, sunburn or sneakers.

Occasionally a smart faculty member would cotton on and force us to do tennis or basketball, though most of our efforts went into ways of avoiding it altogether. Usually this was as simple of nicking off through the bush to the clearing by the tracks, to hang out at the log. Sitting on the log may not have been recognised as an official sport, though skill and a keen sense of alertness was required to make it there without being spotted, and also hide from the passing bushwalking club. Much like chess at the Olympics, we liked to think of it as a demonstration sport. Stay tuned for the IOC's announcement's, "log lingering" may make it yet.

bad dancing

In a world where business takes itself so seriously, it's relieving to see humour creep in. This morning I saw a company car with advertising painted on the side; "Cooking classes for men (with the T.V. on)". And a few weeks ago I spotted a van; "Video production, Bad dancing, Corporate video".

Nothing that drunk relatives at a cousins wedding couldn't do I'm sure, but still, how cool is that!?. Maybe the men can watch the bad dancing on the T.V. while learning how to cook. The world is a happy place I tell you.

stark comparisons and nostril hairs

We all know that Bob Geldof deserves every ounce of credit and admiration for being the damn brilliant human that he is, but...

After the original Live Aid, Bob was faced with a moral slap in the face. He was asked to go to Africa to be filmed in the areas of most need, (the idea was to show examples of where donations were actually going to be directed). He said it was tacky and insensitive for a pop-star to parade amongst the immense suffering.

However, Robbie Williams prancing about on stage singing "Let me entertain you", in front of a giant backdrop with footage of starving African children? I don't know, call me crazy, but it just didn't puff my chest with pride.



So while we're prancing about in a pop "I'm the overlord of all front-row boob bouncing" fashion...
Is Madonna walking around in a cloud of extreme g-force that the rest of us luckily manage to avoid? After watching Annie Lennox, a woman who (apart from unfortunate 80's hairstyles, that I'm sure we all share a similar sense of shame about) exudes elegance and grace, the extreme stretch of Madonna's eyelids seemed stark and painful in comparison.

Admittedly, I only saw highly edited 'free-to-air' footage of the Live 8 stuff on the weekend, but what I saw left me somewhat perplexed.

One of the camera people filming the London show, must have been just as distracted, because occasionally there'd be a camera shot of extreme close-up. I'm talking extreme! I missed taking a photo of it, but imagine a full screen shot of Michael Stripe (oh, I mean Michael Stipe), from the upper tip of his nostrils to his bottom lip. Dentistry has never sparked much of an interest in me, but I was so pleased to be able to check out all of his fillings. It helps me sleep easy at night knowing that the entertainers of the world are free from gum disease.



But maybe that was the clever plan all along; "See, your heroes are from good stock, are free of gum diseases, have tight healthy skin and are happy and bouncy despite sadness and suffering in the world. So you can stop worrying about them and re-direct your concern to Africa".

Well, I for one am reading you loud and clear.

like moths to the flame - or international sporting event

The unseasonably warm weather and the enormous floodlights at the main stadium of the 2000 Sydney Olympics brought the bogong moths out in their thousands. These chubby, hearty meal-sized moths had overseas tourists wide-eyed and nodding to one another, as they made mental notes to tell the folks back home that the stereotype of Australia being a land of giant deadly creatures, was spot on.

It doesn't happen often, but every few years, when the conditions are right, the bogongs all wake up from their growth inducing slumbers to seek the hydroponic warmth of a floodlit stadium. And so, they descended in plague proportions on the 'Games of the XXVII Olympiad'. During the Opening Ceremony, as Suzanne Johnston sang her operatic lungs out, a moth perched itself still and proud on the breast of her expensive suit, like a brooch. (Perhaps another moth had dared it do pull off this brazen stunt). In any case, it left spectators tense with anticipation of it flying into her mouth, as she opened wide to hit those booming notes.

Such was the atmosphere at my workplace this week as the fancy new designer lightshades were installed. Three swarms of butterflies now grace our office, like moths to a flame (or opera singers breast), they hover and flutter around the globes within.


I must admit, they are actually quite cool and kind of pretty. Though every now and then, out of the corner of your eye, you'll catch one of us flinch. Shiver with one of those heeby-jeebies you get when all of a sudden, for no reason at all, you feel a phantom bug crawling through your hair.

c'mon, jump on!

As Tom Cruise morphs into his character from Magnolia more and more each day, I’m dying to jump on the “geez he’s freaky” bandwagon. But the fact is that I’m just too wigged out about it to contribute anything that hasn’t already been said.

I do wonder though, why it is that every woman that’s ever brushed past Shane Warne or David Beckham goes public within 2 seconds in explicit detail. While all those who claim that our mate Tom is gay, aren’t also dashing to the tabloids. It seems everyone I know at least, has a friend who is gay or who works in a gar bar who has seen him in action out on the circuit. There are even guys this week calling radio talk shows (with voice scramblers), claiming they’ve slept with him.

Not jumping to any conclusions of course, (for shear fear of the wrath of Tom himself), plus I’m sure Katie Holmes isn’t the 1st person to have dreamt of marrying or sleeping with Tom, and there are other weirdo’s out there, but it does all seem a bit obtuse.

Is it all just a big rumour, is he paying people off, or is everyone out there as scared of him as I am?