Saturday, September 24, 2005

The Gorilla Kinda Lingers

I think I'm turning into something along the lines of Marge Simpson.
I'm living in a house full of boys at the moment - mum's gone off to Brisbane for a bit, so Dads looking after my two brothers and myself. Being the only girl in a house of three boys, two dogs, a cat that wakes you up several times a night and three budgies whose cage is in need of cleaning is pretty difficult. I've found that I've started making that little noise that Marge makes when she's annoyed... I can't type it out, but I'm sure you all know which one I mean. Hopefully it'll go away soon enough - I'd hate to think I'll start doing it unconsciously... It only takes one of my brothers to talk to me and my throat tenses up and its a concious effort not to mumble disapprovingly!
But having said that, Why?! Why?! Why can't men wash the dishes properly?!

The saving grace of this weekend is, however, the fact that I've re-discovered Not the Nine-O-Clock News. Its absolutely fabulous - and they're all so young!! At the moment, my favourite bit would have to be 'Nice video, Shame About the Song', but quite frankly, any skit that has both Rowan Atkinson and Billy Connoly in it has got to be good!

Anyway, musn't get distracted from studying (much) - so I'll leave you with a bit of Nine-o-Clock advise,

Remember: It's much easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a ... Than it is for a camel to!

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Another little rant...

Did any of you see the clouds last night??
To quote my mum they looked like "crushed satin"
Or to be more poetic, "a black crushed satin gown illuminated from beneath by a pale white orb [ie. the moon] whose rays stretched out in a perfect circle"
There. That's my creativity for the day.

But one more thing before I head off - am I the ONLY PERSON WHO CAN'T GET THE LID OFF THE DEMAZIN BOTTLE???
I have never been able to work that damnable child-safety lock thing! I know it says push down then turn but.... hmmm... maybe I'm turning then pushing down...
Either way, I fear I'm going to end up having to run around to other people's houses in the middle of the night asking them to open demazin bottles for me! Why me? Why me?
And another thing!
I have yet to taste a peach that tastes like 'peach flavoured' demazin!

Baaah humbug!



Well. That's that.

I feel much better now : )

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Wildly Fascinating Title

Well, its finally Sunday night... possible the most depressing part of the whole week!
But atleast its been a good weekend I spose.

Saturday
- mum and I went shopping for a good few hours instead of going to the gym - I figure all the walking cancels out the fish'n'chips we had for lunch...
-Bought one (1) Secret Santa/End Of Term gift
-Used last years Secret Santa book voucer to buy the series 4 DVD of british comedy series 'Coupling' from Dymocks (very close, if not slightly more laugh-out-loud funny than Black Books!!)
- Watched all six episodes of 'Coupling'
- went to bed

Sunday
-Spent entire day at the UWA Expo with Selina, came back with a bag chock-a-block full of information and free stuff [pens, highlighters, Roc Candy (!)]
Some of the highlights included:
1. Climbing the tower (180 steps 180 steps 180 steps 180 steps)
2. Discovering that one of the founders/architechts of the hall married a 17 year old... when he was 52...
3. Standing for over 20 minutes in a line for a free hotdog (it was FREE!)
4. Going to the physics display at 9am (it started at 9, there was nobody there)
5. The lecturer who had a tweed coat... with a matching old-man hat!!
6. The 'What I Wish I'd Known In Year 12' lecture where the last speaker told us to quit coffee - it being 'satan in hot liquid form'. He was from bunbury. Or, as he liked to call it - 'Funbury'
He was cool : p
7. Tieing a balloon (free!) around my wrist then realising that I couldn't take my bag off that shoulder without looping it over my balloon...

-and am now sitting in bed watching 'Coupling' again, have pulled out the first series and am alternating between the two...


Aaaaaand, that's my weekend!

I should probably have done some homework...


Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Even more

I'm sorry about this, but it had to be done.
Possibly one of the most pointless jokes in the world... but absolutely fantastic as a time waster!

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them, "What's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the chldren shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm, "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man. No, no buts -- march!"
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.
"Well, Billy," he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Mr. Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff."
"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?"
"It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is."
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended."
The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?"
"Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked. "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy," his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?"
"Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"You...don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!"
Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way -- lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.
Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy."
Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy."
It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat."
Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy."
The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy."
Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."
It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy."
The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."
It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim, so he drowned.



Moral: Don't stand up in a boat.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Two Incredibly Baaaaad Jokes...

Seriously, get out while you still can!!

Incredibly bad joke of the day #1:
What did the German watch repairer say to his watch that would only go tick, tick, tick?
"Ve have vays of making you tock!"



Incredibly bad joke of the day #2:
One time an electrician came home drunk at four o'clock in the morning.
"Wire you insulate?" his wife scolded.
"Watts it to you?" he snapped. "I'm ohm, ain't I?"


Ook...

Sunday, September 11, 2005

New Eps

RvB Season 4 is finally here!! The first two episodes are online on the RvB webpage - you must check them out!!

And in keeping with the spirit of the blog*, here's a little bit of RvB gold...
Grif: So now we're forced to work together? How ironic.
Simmons: No, that's not ironic! Ironic would be if we had to work together to hurt each other!
Donut: No, ironic would be if, instead of that guy kidnapping Lopez, Lopez kidnapped him.
Sarge: I think it would be ironic if our guns didn't shoot bullets, but instead squirted a healing salve that cured all wounds.
Caboose: I think it would be ironic if everybody was made of iron...

TWO HOURS LATER

Chruch: Okay. We all agree that, while the current situation is not totally ironic, the fact that we now have to work together is odd in an unexpected way, that defies our normal circumstances. Is everyone happy with that?!

I think I'm beginning to agree with Caboose... and that, quite frankly, scares me.

Cheerio,
C : p


* Note: the spirit of the blog, essentially, is irony (which I am actually starting to doubt the existence of... but thats a story for another time)

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Classics

NOTE: This is a LONG POST. You may want to bring provisions when attempting to read it - I suggest lots of water and a few energy bars. Remember to get enough sleep and do not attempt to read if operating heavy machinery.

You have been warned.


Now,
for all of you out there who do not have the time (or drive) to read all the classics, do I have a website for you!
Yup - I discovered the little gem "book-in-a-minute" a while back and so, being a community-minded individual (but mostly a BORED community-minded individual) I thought I'd put a few up here so that you can peruse them at your leisure.

For Startes:
A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickins:

Doctor released,
Marquis deceased,
Darnay acquitted,
Monarchy submitted,
Marriage announced,
Darnay denounced,
Places are switched,
Blades are twitched,
Seamstress cries,
Carton dies.
THE END

Dante's Inferno

-Some woman puts Dante through Hell.
THE END

The Great Gatsbey, F Scott Fitzgerald
Gatsby
Daisy, I made all this money for you, because I love you.
Daisy
I cannot reciprocate, because I represent the American Dream.
Gatsby
Now I must die, because I also represent the American Dream. (Gatsby DIES.)
Nick
I hate New Yorkers.
THE END

*this would have been soooo useful last year for yr 11 Lit!*

Lord of the Flies, William Golding
(Some BOYS crash on an ISLAND.)
Ralph
We need a fire.
(They make a fire. It goes out.)
Ralph
We need a fire.
(They make a fire. It goes out.)
Ralph
We need a fire.
Jack
Forget the fire. Let's kill each other.
Other Boys
Yeah!
(They do.)
THE END

Catch-22, Joseph Heller

*but you must actually read this, just for the ending - its a "smile-out-loud" kinda end"*
Colonel Cathcart
I want a promotion, so I screw over all my men.
Yossarian
I want to get out of here, so I walk around naked and pretend to be sick.
Colonel Cathcart
Fine. Praise us, and we'll let you go home.
Yossarian
No. I'll desert instead, because I've learned that war is crazy, and it's bad too, because it makes people do really weird things and die. Also, high ranking military officers are evil incarnate.
Easily Deluded Reader
Look at all the subtext. This must be one of the greatest anti-war pieces of our time.
THE END

Moby Dick, Herman Melville
Ishmael
Call me Ishmael.
Captain Ahab
Crew, we will seek the white whale and kill it, because I am insane.
Crew
Alas, your destructive obsession will be our undoing.
(They almost find the white whale. Then they almost find the white whale.

Then they find it.)
Captain Ahab
I stab at thee. I stab at thee.
(Everybody dies except Ishmael, although this is no surprise, because it was foreshadowed CONTINUALLY from the BEGINNING.)
THE END

The Crucible *eeeek!*, Arthur Miller
Reverend Parris
Abigail Williams, you and your friends are in trouble, unless you can shift the blame to someone else.
Abigail Williams
She did it! He did it! They did it! Everybody but us did it!
Judge Danforth
Ah, now we are getting somewhere.
(Everybody gets hanged, which just goes to show how evil McCarthyism is.)
THE END

The Collected works of Jane Austen
Female Lead
I secretly love Male Lead. He must never know.
Male Lead
I secretly love Female Lead. She must never know.
(They find out.)

THE END


And, for all of you out there who know anything about revolutions:
Animal Farm, George Orwell (the snobby version)

Old Major, the Pig
Let us overthrow the depraved czar, Farmer Jones, a symbol of a feudalist government that falls into moral ruin by its own excess and corruption.

(dies)
Napoleon, the Pig
Yes, let us indeed overthrow the human oligarchy as Karl Ma--uh, Friedrich Enge--uh, Wladimir Iljitsch Leni--uh, what Old Major said.
Snowball, the Pig
Yes. I'll lead the defense, unwary that you, like the other Napoleon, are pulling a strategic Stalinesque maneuver by using our revolution as a means to set up your own cruel totalitarian empire. I'm a regular Leo Dawidowitsch Trotzky!

(Napoleon sicks his pack of secret police dogs on Snowball, and they EXILE him.)
Sheep
See how easily we, the blind followers of our leaders, ignore the facts and are swayed into loyalty by the pushing of emotional buttons? Four legs good. Two legs baaaad.

(oook - The Glass House has forever changed that...)
Rats and Rabbits
Can we, the Menscheviki, be comrades too?
Moses, the Raven
Take comfort in what I, a symbol of the Orthodox Church, say. When you die, you'll go to the glorious Sugarcandy Mountain. So there's no need for revolution after all.
Squealer, the Pig
Go away, opiate of the people. Like Goebbels, the German minister of propaganda, I have a much greater hold on the people than you do.
Pigeons
Let's be the message carriers of communism and spread the doctrine of the revolution far beyond the physical boundaries of our regime.
Boxer, the Horse
Napoleon is always right. Like the Russian working class, I am convinced of the necessity of our revolution, firmly devoted to its cause, and work hard for my leaders.
Napoleon, the Pig
Good horse, Boxer. We need more animals like you.
Boxer, the Horse
I'm old now. At long last, I have reached retirement age. Now I can rest peacefully while Napoleon takes care of me.
Napoleon, the Pig
Think again, you lazy oaf.

(sells Boxer for glue)

(The animals destroy the windmill in an action symbolic of the failure of the Five Year Economic Plan. Then the pigs turn into humans. Thus ends this dystopian fable on totalitarianism.)
THE END


And for everybody else,
(the simple version):
Some pigs lead a revolt against people, act like jerks, and play poker.
THE END


Well, I think that about does that for the moment.

But thanks have to go to

http://www.rinkworks.com/bookaminute/

*which actually wrote most of this blog entry*


Cheers for sticking around,
C : p

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Books (gah!)

I'm scared.

I've recently discovered that books are affecting the way I think. Not in the "I now have a better understanding of life and the world around me sort of way", but in the "I am now going to think in the style in which the book has been written" type of way. Its really really really annoying!! Let me give you an example - A while back I was reading a book where the main character (and narrator) was a texan. So, without realising it my inner monologue had suddenly developed a southern drawl.
Whenever I read period pieces (eg. Jane Austen, Bronte etc etc) my innermonologue becomes posh and, just because I want to use this word *somewhere*, somewhat hoity toity (gawd...). Which is really unnecessary because I already sound like that most of the time (unintentionally, of course)

All I can hope for is that this does not come through in my "outer monologue". I'd hate for people to be able to tell what I was reading just from listening to me speak...

Having said that, I'm going to go home tonight and attempt to get past the first page of "Clockwork Orange".

You'll know I have if I start talking gibberish.

Well, moreso than usual.

Quiet you.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Yellow Carton

I was walking through the supermarket today ('Supavalue' to be exact... man I hat plasces that cam't spelll...) and as I went to pick up a few cartons of milk I noticed a lonely little yellow carton sitting in the sea of white and blue. Now - as it turns out, it was this very carton that had been plaguing my dreams a month or so ago! The yellow carton that Jane had so placidly argued for was actually (drumroll!) Pura Light-Start!!!
Life changing, no?


Just thought you ought to know.

C.

: p



PS - the Limos gone!!! Yeees!!