28 February 2005

and another thing...

I found the NSW police media release site. Its scary, macabre and occasionally hilarious. I would never have known there were streakers at Tropfest if not for the boys in blue.

Miranda Divine is a shreiking harpy.

And taking the easy route on reporting on a big issue. Again. Here is a blog rebutting her stoopid article on Kyoto from the weekend. ps - Tim Lambert? If you have a sophisticated ping when ever someone links, hi - are you from Adelaide?

And just quitely. Say, just for a moment that the greenhouse sceptics are right. All those hundreds of climate scientists have been under the influence of some kind of paranoia-drug released into the water supply by evil, green activists. I still don't get it. Why do writers like Miraaanda freak out so much at the simple idea that we should, er, perhaps cut back on emitting any substance in volumes many times the natural concentration?

I'm sure she wouldn't like it if I came and sprayed, Carbon dioxide, Carbon monoxide, or hell, even sodium bicarbonate in large doses in her living room. Its just not nice. So why is she so incredibly keen to defend these whole industries or governments who are just not being nice. Did she not listen to her nanna as a child?
It was a riot, baby.

For the last couple of nights there has been riots in Macquarie Fields. Petrol bombs, the lot. Although my guess is that by tonight there will be about as many media people there as those spoiling for a punch up. Graffiti appearing in the last couple of days reads "Police will die", "Cops kill kids", and "We will kill you dogs". NSW Police Commissioner Ken Moroney is a tad riled by the sounds of it, saying "I've been a police officer for 40 years and have never seen these sorts of slogans written on walls at any time in this state".

A few months back there were riots in Redfern. Something's up in Sydney, my friends. Other cities don't have riots every few months.

I don't reckon having our cops slinking around in paramilitary get-up really helps the situation just quietly.

In other news, the Princess Mary beat Prince Frederick in a yacht race. And Pauline Hanson is now going to be a real estate agent.

25 February 2005

It will only take a minute

Or... how Aunty B had somewhat intimate body parts plucked out most unexpectedly this week.

So there I was, hungover as all hell after the cushion room birthday feast. Struggling with normal human interaction, and a particulalry unpleasant phone call with a "senior" person, and staying focused on writing the odd 200 words here and there, as is my professional speciality.

When suddenly it was 5 minutes to my dental appointment that I booked earlier that week. Cunningly placed mind you to avoid my birthday, and extend a lunch break at work but without much thought to the fact that it was the notorious, mid week day after. Cue scary music.

So oh well - bit of a liedown in the dentist's chair - no worries, may even be peaceful. You see, dear readers, I'd just booked a check to see what needed to be done with a top wisdom tooth which so far had slipped quite unobtrusively into line with the other teeth, and seemed reasonably happy, but was starting to bump against the bottom ones on occasion.

Sayeth dentist Jeff "oh we could thet out right her if you like" - he was South African - what is that about he medical profession? You see, Jeff said it had to come out anyway, so why not now, it wouldn't take long. So I did. Get it off the list of things to do, you know.

Just thought you'd like to know that. Big brave B had her tooth "most untimely ripped" on Thurday, and then went straight back to work. One neurofen, one bit o' gauze that I had to take out quick smart because it was making me gag, and a quiet arvo of writing and feeling slightly woozy. Ha. take that traditional fears and phobias.

I am so having a day or two off when mr biz lowbagger gets back from the zone.

Also - betty sue is hilarious. We have a mutual fan club.

20 February 2005

Things that made Aunty B cry big hot lumpen tears last week

Yours truly, bunker dwelling, Aunty B apolgises for oscillating between girly navel gazing of the variety to paraphrase one Padriac McGuinness talk of "kittens, hair and their knickers and such" and wanting to howl at the eyeball melting horrors of the world seen nightly these days.

Upon watching a doco on ballsy brave German doctors taking documentary evidence of radiation poisoning because of shells used by Nato in Bosnia, and in both Gulf Wars.

There some info here on wikipedia. Its pretty grusome. Basically weapons with depleted uraninum create a nice big bang. However, it's now certain the leaking radiation from spent shells mutuates genetic material for generations, but they're left lying around on battlefields, in populated areas and near food stores, and in one instance an ice factory. And of course vehermently denied to be a health risk.

But it wasn't the numbers that did it - it was the photo album that the female pediatrician in Baghdad was keeping with pages and pages of misshapen, almost unrecognisable bundles of flesh still-born there in the last year. And hearing that the mothers were often blamed and divorced.
Well after a shout-out like that.. who could say no?

Trouble is I haven' t had a great deal to say that is very blogworthy. You may be interested in my agonising train ride down from the blue mountains tonight. In the pouring rain.

Starts with a fit young Australian several seats back calling a friend to tell him about his party weekend. "yeah we were drinking home made rum. 60% proof, man." "I've been out all night, man. Crashed out at 5 am. Got up again at 6.30." "Yeah - 60 % proof, man". "We left the club at 4" "It was full of Uni students, it was great, they were all on E". "Yeh man, even the bouncer, he got up on a table and stripped" "Yeh he was dealing it, man".

Know why I know it word-for-word? because after 15 minutes of this he rang another friend - and told him the whole thing, *exactly the same*. It was mind-numbingly excruitiatingly, upholstery chewing- boring. Although the old gent next to me did start making jokes about it which was pretty funny. Luckily his phone ran out of battery before we could take bets on how many times he'd tell the story.

Then there was the dad in jogging gear giving life advice to the 11yr old son, talking to him like a an adult mate at the pub, taking a phonecall from the partner apparently, and complaining about fighting with the (presumably) kids' mum. With girlfriend (apparently) getting a mouthful of exasperated frusted man-talk, and hanging up.

Then there was the guy with the manky leg and swaying walk at Central, yelling at his (presumably, again) girlfriend about her weight, in an tremolo voice... "huge.. look at you.. you're Huuge".

Oh yes, all the freaks were out tonight. Must be the rain. I did get some knitting done though.

Sayonara, good night.