♥ 30 November 2005 , Tags : life , Comments Off
I was sharing with my mother-in-law some of the things I’d gotten for Xmas, and said, “I’ve got it all done except for Greg and Robyn.”
She answered, “Well, when you get your brilliant idea of what to get them, let me know, so I can steal it from you.”
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♥ 29 November 2005 , Tags : links , Comments Off
The attitude that there’s something wrong with introverted people is widely shared in society, where fast talk and snap decisions are often valued over listening, deliberation and careful planning. Extroverts seem to rule the world or, at least, the USA, which hasn’t elected an introverted president for three decades, since Jimmy Carter.
“The signals we get from the world agree that extroversion is valued,” says Sanford Cohn, an associate professor in curriculum and instruction at Arizona State University. “A lot of the messages we get from society have to do with being social, and in order to be social you have to behave a certain way.”
But that is impossible for introverted kids.
(Speaking as a bona fide introvert – no, being opinionated and occasionally talkative is not necessarily a sign of “extroversion” – I nodded a lot while reading that article, although it does make me wonder why it’s taken “experts” all this time to figure this stuff out. I mean, DUH…)
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♥ 28 November 2005 , Tags : links , Comments Off
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♥ 26 November 2005 , Tags : melbourne , Comments Off
I learned something today that I didn’t know (that happens pretty much every day, mind you, but I don’t usually blog about it).
Melbourne has an ice hockey team. I had no idea. I did hear that the team is coached by an expat Canadian and most of the players are also expat Canadians, but apparently a few Aussies managed to learn how to not only skate but also chase a frozen pellet of rubber around a rink, hitting it with a stick.
I like hockey. Once I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out…
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♥ 25 November 2005 , Tags : australia, humor/humour , Comments Off
Your next door neighbours can be from Tunisia, Israel, Indonesia, Japan, Zimbabwe, Iraq, Brazil, Spain, Malaysia…
The community is so concerned over the fact that Muslim women can’t use public swimming pools because there are men present that they have female-only times.
The Greeks and Mexicans next door ask you over to have a barbeque.
You don’t actually use the words ’sheila’ or ’shrimp’.
You sleep with Aeroguard on.
You’re wearing a cap emblazoned with ‘Get A Dog Up Ya.’
You feel obliged to spread salty black stuff that looks like congealed motor oil on bread and actually grow to like it.
You actively dislike Americans, but watch their TV, eat their food and worship their idols.
You think Tall Poppy Syndrome is a national condition.
Democracy means the freedom to draw caricatures of John Howard.
Your idea of a lethal weapon is a slug gun.
The closest you ever got to going overseas was your packet of 5 Days In Rio grundies.
A posh meal = an all-you-can-eat buffet.
The term “musical instrument” also extends to wobbly bits of ply-wood, hand saws, gum leafs and combs.
Your most offensive curse also doubles as an exclamation of awe or amazement, like, “fark orf!”
All of your internationally famous people don’t live here.
You think footballers dressing up in drag on TV is funny (but your son being gay isn’t).
You relish test cricket – the longest, slowest game in sport (and that’s not even counting the replays). After all, what else gives you an excuse to sit on your arse for five days, watch TV and sink piss with your mates?
You don’t drink Fosters, but you let the world think you do.
The only thing better than beating the Poms at ANY sport is giving them shit for it.
You love, adore and admire a particular team/sportstar/actor on a winning streak – until they lose. Then they’re just crap and ‘past it.’
You can compress several words into one – ie ‘g’day’, ‘d’reckn?’ This allows for more space for profanities.
You favour either Holden or Ford – or a souped-up WRX with new kit and a bootful of subwoofer.
Driving down the main street/beach road playing bad techno is your idea of a perfect Saturday night / Sunday arvo.
You make kooky films, sometimes about wayward road trips (across the outback preferably). Quite a few are crap.
You know all the words to Khe Sahn but not the national anthem.
Your nickname ends in ‘a’ or ‘o’.
You have a customised stubby holder.
Your soap stars become pop singers and move to the UK.
You’ve ever used the words – grouse, tops, ripper, choice, sick, rad, exo, ace, wicked, ballistic – to mean good. And then you place ‘bloody’ in front of it when you really mean it.
Your cooking apron has plastic breasts on it.
The “Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi oi oi!” chant has been a religious experience in the past.
The big national sporting events are men-only.
Your politicians believe than sticking the prefix ‘un’ in front of your nationality is an effective way of making you sit down and shut up.
Our mantras are ‘fair go for all’, ‘mateship’ and ‘little Aussie battler’ – but we still publicly condemn those with different viewpoints to us.
The barbeque is a male-dominated arena. And the women do the salads.
An eight-hour trip to go camping for the weekend isn’t out of the question or excessive.
You take pride in living in a tolerant multicultural society but firmly believe that all Poms and Kiwis are fair game.
You insist on asking every celebrity who steps of an aircraft what they think of Australia. If the response is not overwhelmingly positive, they should be subjected to immediate public ridicule.
The private lives of footy and cricket players become more important than local and national news stories.
Slick pick-up lines like ‘Wanna shag?’ and ‘Carn, show us yer tits’ can constitute male-to-female conversation.
You say ‘no worries’ quite often, whether you realise it or not.
You realise you have no Bill of Rights, and you don’t care.
The first thing guaranteed to get eaten at parties is fairy bread.
So that’s the special ingredients that make up an Aussie – whatever your taste.
You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Austrailia.
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♥ 24 November 2005 , Tags : general , Comments Off
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Today is Zoë’s sixth birthday (which I wrote about in her journal if you’re interested). It’s also my beloved grandmother’s one-hundredth birthday (nevermind that she died in 1994, it’s still her birthday, dammit).
So, happy birthday to Grammy, and happy birthday to Zoë. Yay!
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It’s hot. This is the Northern Hemisphere equivalent of May, and it’s definitely feeling like summer. Yeah, I know, technically May isn’t summer in the NH, but we all know it can be plenty hot in mid/late May, especially in some regions of the continent. Anyway, it’s hot today. Hotter than predicted (and I checked several different forecasts, too).
If I’d been able to stay inside all day, that would have been okay, but I had to go out (twice) and I definitely felt the heat (isn’t that a song or something? hmmmm…). Its not too bad inside the house, but I’m going to turn the fan on, anyway, and I think I might even change out of these jeans and put on something lighter and more summery (cotton trousers, not shorts; I almost never wear shorts because my thighs stick to the cushion on my chair, ick).
Anyway.
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♥ 19 November 2005 , Tags : links , Comments Off
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♥ 19 November 2005 , Tags : links , Comments Off
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