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Friday, 28 May 2010

House

Some of you will already know that we moved recently.

Until about a month ago, the chikenz and I lived in Rozelle/Balmain. A lovely part of the world, with a surfeit of pubs that demanded my constant attention. We quite enjoyed living there, but decided that we had had enough of living in the suburbs and decided to move to the city. Really to the city.

Our new house is in a location such that if you dropped me onto the Sydney Harbour Bridge, from a low height and in such a way that I wasn't seriously injured, I could walk home in less than 10 minutes.

This being the case, we are having a housewarming party. Chances are that you have already been invited, but if you haven't there are four possible reasons.
  1. I don't have your email address
  2. You live in foreign parts of the world that would preclude your attendance.
  3. I forgot.
  4. I just don't like you.
So, if you haven't received an invite, why not send me an email and find out for certain which category applies to you.

And finally, a very very big chikenz thank-you to everyone who donated to the chikenz MS run. Each of you receive 37 chikenz points that can be redeemed for your favourite thing at that place over there. The chikenz is quite pleased, which means I'm quite pleased too. For the rest of you, it's not too late! Go visit the donating place and astonish us with your generosity.

Wednesday, 26 May 2010

Rabbits

I work in an office.

About 3-4 days per week I am based at the "home" office. Which is to say the office of the company I work for. On the other 1-2 days per week I am at a customer site providing wisdom and instruction in exchange for cash. Think of it as being my contribution to the greater good.

When I am at my home office, I have a cubicle of my very own. Like untold millions around the world, I am seated in an area that, if I were some sort of farm animal, would be considered cruel and inhumane. I am, I suppose, a battery worker.

One of the very few benefits of such an arrangement is that I am entertained by the day-to-day domestic situations of my colleagues. Over the past few weeks, an Iranian colleague who, for the purpose of this blog, I shall refer to as Darius, has been desperately attempting to secure accommodation. His current landlord has indicated a desire to relieve himself of the burden of having actual tenants and so my Iranian friend has been having hushed conversations with prospective landlords. Usually along the lines of, "yes, that's me well yes I am nah, that guy was just making trouble, so I said there's no way I'm paying and just told him to get stuffed."

Around this time the conversation become ever more distant as Darius makes his way from his cubicle to one of our meeting rooms. Some time later he will reappear and moodily hammer away at his keyboard for a time before announcing that "people just don't trust anybody any more" or some similar such observation based on man's inhumanity to man. Often vaguely related to the capricious nature of prospective landlords too.

Darius is often engaged in conversation at this point by another of my cubicle neighbours. This chap (I shall refer to him as Sunil) could be called a friend of Darius as they are often engaged in amiable chit-chat with each other and are given to taking lunch together. A sanguine yet laconic fellow, Sunil is given to making a small observation that a landlord must take care of his own interests and then listening sympathetically while Darius bemoans the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.

The communication problem is sometimes compounded by the difficulty presented in having English is a second language, which is the case for both of them. Whilst I would not describe either as 'heavily accented', each of them has a distinct mode of speech. This sometimes leads to confusion.

Today, Darius returned from an errand and remarked that "Rabbit Photo is not at Macquarie any more." Macquarie being the local shopping centre you see.

"What is rapid photo?" asked Sunil with an idiosyncratic lateral head wobble.
"Not rapid, rabbit. It's rabbit photo" replied Darius
"There is a rabbit?"
"No. It's a photo place. You know, like one-hour photos."
"Ah! it's rapid."
"no. It's called Rabbit photos! RABBIT"
"So it's rapid rabbit photos." said Sunil, head wobbling all the more emphatically and clearly pleased with his his witty retort.
I couldn't resist.
"What are you talking about rapid photo?" I asked.
Darius was clearly frustrated. "It's not rapid, it RABBIT! You know R-A-B-I-T ... QUACK QUACK!!"

I can only presume that Iranian rabbits are rather more vocally skilled than Australian rabbits.

Today's chikenz-points go to the first person to spot the movie quote and name the movie.

Thursday, 20 May 2010

That was it.

Some weeks ago, the Chikenz invested $6.00 with Foxtel in order to obtain 48 hours access to the, errm, documentary(?) "This is it" which allegedly features Michael Jackson. The Chikenz is quite fond of Michael Jackson and never tires of telling me how 'sugoi' he is.

I was in the same room as the Chikenz, reading 'Rogue Herries' by Hugh Walpole, so I was unable to avoid some degree of exposure to the documentary in question. I have some trouble labelling it as a documentary, because it seems to be more a collection of random footage taken while 'MJ' did rehearsals for what was to have been his final concert tour. As we know now, Michael Jackson was unable to complete that tour due to mobility issues. Death will do that to you.

Frankly though, I have grave reservations that he actually made it as far as "This is it" contends. Hence the 'allegedly' in the first paragraph.

It seems to me that the figure presented on my television, held out to be Michael Jackson, was a CGI. A rather poorly created one too. It looked rather like the folks that populate that movie with the blue people in it, but not quite so professionally done. In fact, as I watched further, it seemed increasingly unlikely that the figure held out to be Michael Jackson was actually a real person.

I came to suspect that Michael Jackson, shortly after the release of 'Thriller', decided that it was all a bit silly, that the joke had gone on long enough, and that he would retire to the magnificent seclusion of wherever it was he went. Meanwhile, a team of record company executives, realising that the gravy train had coagulated, decided to take matters into their own hands and started featuring a hologram of Michael Jackson in their video clips.

I further suspect that when they decided to age the hologram, they did so using a wiki method, whereby they could all have input. As wikis invariable do, this lead to a series of increasingly heated and obscure arguments that resulted in various  compromises  and an end product that was noticeably worse than it would have been had any one of the contributors been left to their individual devices.

And that was it.

Chikenz points today go to the first one to spot the tribute and name the source.

photos



Just on the basis that I haven't included any pictures for some time, here are a couple. You can see my entire photo stream at flickr if you are so inclined, but you'll either have to email me and ask for the address, or guess who I am on flickr.

Tuesday, 18 May 2010

The Chikenz is Running

On Sunday, 6th June, the Chikenz is running in the MS Funrun.

It's only 8km, so she'll barely be warmed up by the end, but she is very distressed at a lack of sponsorship. Her distress means that I suffer. So, you should all show your support by clicking on this link, taking out your credit card and making an enormous donation to a very worthy cause. Even if you don't feel that MS is a sufficiently worthy cause then I'm sure you'll agree that making my life just a little more bearable is a highly worthy cause.

I'll be writing about the event and slagging off at people who didn't sponsor her over the next few weeks.

Remember: pay early and pay often!

Friday, 16 April 2010

The Tax Office

The tax office publishes a list, annually, of "the effective life of depreciating assets". This allows companies to look up a particular asset and see what the tax office claims to be the effective life.

Today's post is just to let you all know that the effective life of a stuffed crocodile is 20 years.

Saturday, 10 April 2010

Anonymous

There has certainly been a lot of replies from anonymous. Well there has been seven, in the last two posts, which is a lot in the context of this blog. 100% in fact. I guess I can understand that many of you would prefer that your association with this blog not be known to the wider public. Perhaps I am gaining notoriety? That would be good.

Anyway, anonymous has garnered all thirty-seven chikenz points recently and thirty-seven is one of my favourite numbers. Primarily because thirty-seven times three is 111. So a hearty chikenz-hoorah goes out to anonymous. I do suspect however that this would be two distinct anonymouses. But maybe I'll never know?

Anonymous has also managed to confuse me slightly. Having signed off "your friend T, the rock B." I was left briefly wondering whether 'Toto', the rock band had become a fan. I find this doubtful because I have never been a fan of theirs, although I did have a Japanese friend who once proudly proclaimed that Toto was his favourite band. He followed this up with a disturbingly good a capella rendition of the song 'Africa'.

But I digress.

So assuming that the 'B' is not band, I started to wonder if it might be "biblical". This could possibly make sense if the friend referred to was Paul. I know a couple of Pauls that lurk around this page and the biblical Paul was designated 'the Rock' by our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.

Interesting fact. If you say 'Jesus' backwards, it sounds quite a lot like sausage.

If it was Paul, I then have to decide what the 'T' is all about. Neither of the Pauls have a surname that starts with T and I can't think of what else it could mean. Very annoying.

Any further hints will be gratefully received and may lead to a more restful night's sleep.

Chikenz-points today go to the first person that can point out the pun in paragraph two.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

Wikipedia

Recently, I have been spending a disproportionate amount of my time at wikipedia. It's a fascinating place.

I can remember, as a small boy, my parents deciding to buy the Funk & Wagnalls encyclopaedia. It was available, one volume at a time, through various newsagencies. I seem to recall that a new volume was released once a month, but it may have been once a week. All I know is that it seemed to be an eternity between one volume and the next. Each time a new volume arrived, I would appropriate it immediately and retire to a place of seclusion. First I would check for any profanity, as any young boy would, then I would browse through the various entries that might appeal to me. I recall, for example, reading the entry on the Suez Canal and being entranced by the idea that some blokes had carved a channel through a desert in order to connect two oceans. Wonderful stuff.

There were (I think) 25 volumes and we missed the volume "M". Obviously this is the reason why I know so little about mathematics, meercats and Mexico. Wikipedia has allowed me to remedy this problem.

Wiki claims to have over 3 million English language articles now, so it may prove a more lengthy read than the Funk & Wagnalls of my youth. It does however, have the advantage of allowing me to make my own contributions. Most recently, it has allowed me to contribute "third opinions" where other folks have reached an impasse. So far, I have offered third opinions on a map of the Roman Empire that was being used in the "History of Georgia" page, the relevance of certain references in the "Types of Rape" page and an opinion on the relevance of certain categorisations on the "Omakaitse" page.

Omakaitse (as if you didn't know!) was a sort of people's militia that operated in Estonia during WWII. Fascinating.

So today's task is to identify my username in wikipedia. Good luck and let me know how you fare. Seventeen bonus points are on offer for the first correct answer.

Saturday, 27 March 2010

Sorry I'm late

Hello again. Sorry I'm late.

Last night I dreamed I went to Mandalay again.

OK, well maybe I didn't dream that, but I did have an interesting dream. Interesting to me anyway.

I dreamed that I was at a sort of resort. I was sitting on one of those wooden recliner type things that you often see at resorts. Typically, they have white cushions attached to them, but on this occasion, they did not.

I was sitting at the end of the recliner, you understand I was not in the reclining position but rather perched toward the foot of the recliner. Sitting on the recliner next to me was Tony Blair, the former British PM. He was seated in a similar way to me, toward the edge of the recliner.

We were engaged in a game of trivia. Questions were being posed to us in turn and we were answering them. One by one the questions were asked and each time we answered correctly. The tension was building with each question. Great matters depended on the winner of this rather odd little game although I cannot say with any accuracy precisely what those matters were. In fact now that I think of it, I can't really remember any of the questions or even who was asking them. All I can remember is that we were being asked those questions in turn and Tony, in his very cultivated British accent would answer his correctly and then me, with my rather more roguish Australian accent would answer my question. Also correctly. Each of us would stare intently at the other as that person's question was asked and wait breathlessly as it was answered.

As I may have mentioned before, it was tense.

Eventually Tony was asked to name three national governmental deputies. As soon as he was asked this, I realised that had the question been asked of me, I would only have been able to name two; Joe "Big F*cking Deal" Biden and La Guillarde, also known as Julia Gillard. I breathed a sigh of relief and waited anxiously for Tony's answer.

Rather than answer, Tony began to insist that the question be directed at me. His reasons were convoluted, but seemed to revolve around two facts. The first was that as a former world leader, the question would be too easy for him. The second was that he believed that he was getting all, the hard questions and it was only fair that the order should be reversed. You should remember, dear reader, that all these explanations were being made in Tony's wonderful speaking voice and thus the spectators were somewhat persuaded.

For my part, I of course objected strongly. I suspected that this was a ruse on Tony's part as he had perceived that I was worried about the question. You will be pleased to hear however, that I defended myself strenuously. I objected vehemently to the idea of changing the order so suddenly and simply and I pointed out to Tony the inconsistency in his first reason and his second reason.

My implacable logic left Tony slightly flummoxed and he began to insist that we should provide the three answers in turn. One at a time, so to speak.

The careful reader will spot the flaw in this plan. Should I be required to provide the first answer, I had two at my disposal, however by providing the first answer I should also have to provide the third. This could leave me in a tricky spot should Tony's answer be either Gillard or Biden. So I agreed on his suggestion so long as he went first. He objected of course.

After some further argument, it was agreed that Tony and I should play paper-scissors-rock in order to decide who goes first. Tony then asked whether dynamite was allowed in the game and demonstrated dynamite as a hand held in a first with the thumb pointing upward. I told him not to be ridiculous and that we should get on with the game.

So we started the first game of paper-scissors-rock. I'll note here that we used that Japanese cry of "JUN-KEN-PO!" as we brought our fists down three times before displaying wither paper, scissors or rock. I can think of no good reason why we did this, but in the interests of maintaining the strictest accuracy in my report, I note it here for the record.

On the third downward shake, I flattened my hand out, forming the shape for paper. Tony's hand remained as a fist for a moment and then slowly he pointed out two fingers and exclaimed "scissors!! I win!"

I was apoplectic. I told him that he had cheated and that he had first shown rock, which would have lost, befoe changing to scissors. This was not in the spirit of the game and I told him so. Forcefully.

Tony looked saddened and leaned toward me. He explained that it was a little known fact that at moments of high tension, such as this so obviously was, his hands sweated a great deal. He further told me (and all the spectators that had gathered around) that he suffered from arthritis in the hands. These two facts, he explained, meant that his fingers were quite sticky from the sweat and moved quite slowly due to the arthritis. This gave the impression that he was cheating, although, he said, nothing could be further from the truth.

You should remember, dear reader, that all of this was explained in Tony's wonderfully mellifluous voice. His slow, statesmanlike intonations falling like blocks of sandstone into a beautifully constructed argument that, while perfectly argued, was patently false. Nonetheless, he had persuaded the crowd and as I tried to argue that he was being unfair I found that several of them, albeit nameless and faceless, were staring at me as though I was kicking a puppy.

It would give me enormous pleasure to report here the outcome of my argument with Tony Blair, after all it's not often that one has the opprtunity to go mano-a-mano with a former world leader, but, once again holding accuracy of reporting above all else, I must tell you that it was at that moment that I woke up.

If you've read this far then I must apologise for not being able to provide a more satisfactory resolution. To make up for it, I am offering bonus points to the first person who correctly tells me the origin of the Mandalay quote above.

Tuesday, 8 December 2009

The Receptionist

I had cause to attend a medical specialist on Tuesday. Last time I was there, a largish woman of indeterminate age with a broad Australian accent spent the entire time while I was in the waiting room discussing the difficulties of her ongoing renovations over the telephone. Loudly.

When I arrived this time, she was at the reception again. I interrupted her conversation by entering the waiting room and I heard her say “Just a tic love.” as I walked in. She took my name and asked me to have a seat and went back to her conversation. It was the exact same conversation as last time. I kid you not! This woman was having the exact same conversation that she had had three months earlier.

Happily, I had my laptop with me, so I made notes.

It appears that Mick is the builder. Mick has been somewhat lapse in installing the appropriate appliances. The fridge was a particularly sore point. I have to assume that it’s one of those fridges that needs to be “plumbed in” or installed in some way. My notes of her conversation say, for example, “So I said to him, I just want a fridge. It’s Christmas Mick. I mean I just want a fridge. I’m sick of trying to do everything with a bloody bar fridge.” there was a pause, followed by, “Yes! Yes! I know! Well I’m not gonna have a fridge now, am I?”

Later the conversation moved on to tiling. This was not a happy conversation either.

“He said he wouldn’t commission that because I suppose it’s not viable for him cost-wise so I suppose it’s just stuff you! … Yes! Well he’s trying to say that it’s because of where I got the tiles which was where he was gonna get them anyway.”

And finally, before my doctor called me in, I noted this

“Well that’s just pointless anyway. … YES! That’s what I said! … Oh I just said don’t bother NIck. Don’t bother. I’ve got the answer to my questions.”