Turkey visitor, garden destroyer

This is what our garden looked like roughly two months ago.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon planting seeds, figuring that I've won my battle with my former friends the slugs, and Spring has properly arrived in the last week or so and now would be a good time to sow a few things.

In rows on the right hand side of the garden, I carefully planted purple carrot, st valerie carrot (free seeds that Diggers sent with my order) and pak choy. On the left, I planted some lettuce seeds that my dad gave me, plus some of the free yellow lettuce seeds that came with my Diggers order.

I also planted a few things in punnets, ready to plant later in the back garden or pots.

This morning, I opened up the blinds and discovered a scene that looked like this:



Last year we regularly had a bush turkey visit our back balcony for seed. It hasn't come by in about 6 months, and so I hadn't figured it into my considerations for creating a vegetable garden.

Murphy's law obviously meant that the turkey would choose to visit for the first time in 6 months less than 12 hours after I had so carefully planted seeds in neat rows. Gah. Even though it left alone the left side where I have five bean plants and two snow pea plants, it stood on my lone properly-growing rocket plant and left it lying on the ground!



I noticed that the turkey had picked the remaining sorghum and wheat seeds from the bird seed mix we leave sitting out for the lace-neck dove. The dove hasn't been stopping by lately thanks to the now regular presence of the damned squeakers, so I hadn't been conscientious about refilling the seed. I think the turkey decided it was still hungry and wanted to check out what lay beneath all that mulch. And was no doubt duly rewarded with lots of slow and tasty surinam cockroaches.

I know I can't make war on turkeys in the same way I did on the slugs... one of the things I love most about our neighbourhood is the presence of the turkeys. And any attempts to chase it away will simply result in it being more careful to stop by when we're either asleep or not home. So I've laid some spare plastic mesh/trellis over the top of the mulch, and I'm going to leave a big bowl of seed for it to eat when it stops by. Hopefully the distraction of free food and the minor difficulty posed by the mesh will mean it ignores the garden from now on!

In addition to destroying the garden, it also left me a present...

Aussie athletes who will not be appearing on Uncle Toby's products

"Goddamn! I can't get enough of this shit! Pass me some more!"

Jessicah Schipper - Looks like uncle Toby.

Matthew Mitcham - Close acquaintance of Uncle Toby's sister, Dorothy.

They'll have to console themselves with watching Stephanie Rice earning $800,000 on TV and whisper to themselves how it's really just about getting to compete.

Fairfax Journos go on strike, no one notices

Contains up to 20% more truth than other newspapers!

Apparently Fairfax journalists are facing the sack because no one's buying newspapers anymore. A quick glance at the smh webpage shows that happily there's still enough money to keep Miranda Devine and Paul Sheehan employed. I can't imagine why people aren't buying more newspapers. You get so much choice! You can read deranged right-wing ranting in the SMH and the Opposition Orifice! Though I'm not sure why I should fork out for a newspaper that buries the story of its own striking staff in a tiny little link on its front page. The statement it leads to reads like a coal miners' strike, right down to promising to be humane and merciful to those that surrender. I'd like to think that people have gotten sick of reading stenography and infantile ranting, but the truth is probably that people are just dumber than they used to be.

How would a jellyfish write a book anyway?

Mr Costello is interviewed on his book, I'm not a has-been, I'm a never-was

Any guesses as to what the book will be about? What will he write about? He's too gutless to bitch about Howard so that won't be in there. Maybe he'll have highlights like "the time I smirked 564 times in a budget speech." Maybe even, "how I sat around with my thumb up my bum for 12 years while a bunch of numpty voters thought I was running the economy." Better yet, "Chapter One: When opportunity knocks I always have my door dead-bolted." Sucked in to idiots who voted him back in, what has he actually done in parliament besides smirk for the cameras? Well done, voters of Higgins, do you think Peter will share his royalties with you? Chumps.

Google analytics searches

A few of the latest (Matt Mitcham now occupies two of the top 5 spots, and Lara Bingle is out of the top 10 for what must be the first time since I set up Google Analytics!):

israeli speeding penis

famous Australians with herpes [great if people could be that open about it, and I'm sure lots of famous Australians have it, but I doubt any of them would make the information public enough for a list to be compiled and appear on Google]

matthew mitcham porn [See? he's totally the new Lara Bingle!]

everyone loves matthew mitcham [Lara Bingle never got an "everyone loves Lara" post- looks like Our Matt has gone one better]

erik everhard herpes [looks like a herpes theme emerging, too]

what happens to abandoned cars in brisbane [if our neighbourhood is anything to go by, nothing...]

channel 7 worst olympics coverage ever [yes, yes it was. Screw you, channel seven]

lauren jackson nude [we suddenly had a spike for this one- must have been the olympics coverage getting people all hot and bothered]

big gay australian circle jerk [never heard of it before- I suppose we weren't invited]

kevin rudd ringtone [can anyone have a guess which kevin-ism this person might be chasing?]

buttock of women nude in tracksuit [that's a very specific fetish- can they really only mean one buttock?]

Barack Obama for president

I sincerely hope I have to eat my words when it comes to my prediction in January 2007 that America would not elect a black man to the presidency in 2008.

It's not that I find it easy to believe that anything would change with the election of Barack Obama, should it happen, but it is easier to hope that things might change.

It's not hard, even, to imagine dancing in the streets in the farthest corners of the world if John McCain, Bush III, fails in his bid for the US presidency. It's no tall tale to say that George Bush has fucked up a good chunk of the entire world during his term as president, and that goodwill to America is, quite deservedly, at an all-time low. Why not blame them for the actions of the most disastrous US president to ever inflict himself on the world when they elected the guy, twice? The president who made Bill Clinton, for all his faults and foreign policy failures, look like Jesus Christ himself. Regardless of what the US would get, what the world would get, with an Obama presidency, I think everyone outside the US is able to say with absolute certainty that it's going to be a darn sight better than what they've got now.

I look at 2008 as America's chance for redemption in the eyes of the world. If they fuck it up now, chances are they'll have fucked it up forever.

Fairfax sacks Mike Carlton

Mike Carlton and Peter FitzSimons

Fairfax is sacking 550 people.

I wasn't exactly waiting with bated breath to find out if they would sack any worthy candidates for dismissal- Miranda Devine, Paul Sheehan, Gerard Henderson. But hey, a person can hope.

Instead I find out that Fairfax have sacked Mike Carlton, because he refused to be a scab and write his column during the staff strike to protest the sackings.

Carlton, being an opinion columnist, was never exactly a must-read for me, but he was one of the few whose columns I often enjoyed when I did read them. Good on him for having some principles.

Freaky-looking Hollywood child stars

I knooooow it's mean to make fun of someone because of the way they look. But I just have to ask- what the hell is it with child stars? Hollywood chooses the freakiest-looking kids for starring roles, but then somehow they grow up even weirder-looking, into these bizarre alien-looking freaks. Take Haley Joel Osment- it's like he has some weird condition where his facial features never age beyond 6 years but the rest of him grew up. So it looks like 6-year-old Haley Joel's face has been photoshopped onto the 20-something star of some teen soapie :




Argh! And don't even get me started on Macaulay Culkin and his even freakier-looking brothers.

How does Hollywood breed these creatures?

Son of North Bank

Dear Project Manager

I think the state government has some kind of hearing problem. Which part of 'don't build over the river' did you have difficulty understanding? Just stop it. Building over the river is UNACCEPTABLE in any way shape or form. I don't really care that the new design 'only' defaces one quarter of the river as opposed to the one third it used to.

What is it with this seemingly monomaniacal, crazed desire to destroy the river and build high rises on it? This is the same design as before, slightly watered down. It's been put to the same 'public comment' as last time, remember, the one where the premier fraudulently claimed most of the responses were positive? No doubt we'll be told the same thing again, that everyone loves it, and it'll be as much a lie as last time.

Also stop the rubbish about 'no taxpayer money' being spent. Multiplex is getting to make a great deal of money out of vandalising what should be public property. It's an insult to even imply that the taxpayer is being done a favour by having their assets exploited for someone else's profit.

What is a "signature building bridging the Elizabeth Street off ramps and retaining and framing the view along Elizabeth Street to the river, while addressing the surrounding heritage buildings."? Is this a nice way to say, 'a giant skyscraper of as many floors as we bloody well like that will dwarf the heritage buildings near it and plunge the surrounding area into darkness?' Yes, yes it is. Ironic that it's going to be the "Birthplace of Brisbane" because by the look of things the North Bank is going to be screwed hard.

I suppose the rest of us mugs will just have to console ourselves with kicking the current government out at the next election.

Yours in chagrin

The public consultation link is well hidden over here. Go ahead and have your say, they'll probably lie about it, again. Also I'd better not see another deafening silence from the Greens on this issue otherwise they can go get stuffed next election if they want me to hand out HTVs.

Harassment of breastfeeding mothers

Unbelieveable.

Sharleen Salmon, who works at the Westfield Mall in Marion, Adelaide, said she felt harassed and embarrassed when a woman and a cleaner complained about her using the room during her half-hour lunch break.

The young mum, who recently returned to work to support her family, said: "I was in a private area (in the parents room) behind the curtain and this cleaner just walked in on me and watched what I was doing," the Guardian Messenger reported.

"She told me the parents room was for parents and breastfeeding only - and that I wasnt allowed to eat lunch in there.

Ms Salmon said she was using a standard breast pump to express milk to feed her baby daughter Justice, who was being cared for by her father.

Ms Salmon, who expresses milk once a day, said she was followed back to work by a security guard and a police officer, who said a formal complaint had been made to centre management.

"They told me that a little kid had been running around in the parents room and had briefly seen what I was doing and had complained to its mum," she said.

"The mum then complained to security and the cleaner came in to inspect what I was doing. They told me the complaint was that there was a topless woman eating her lunch in the parents room.

"Its tough enough that I have to do this during my break, but for a complaint to be made about me doing it, is really upsetting.

Westfield management did not return several calls for comment

No, I take that back: it's quite believeable. During the course of my interviews with Sudanese women living in Brisbane, I've heard some genuine horror stories about breastfeeding in public, and frankly most of them are scared to do it, either because they've been told it's illegal or because of people like that Westfield security guard and the cleaner and the unspeakably stupid woman who complained and dobbed in that poor lady for committing the 'crime' of expressing breast milk in a parent's room specially set aside so that breastfeeding mothers can hide themselves from public view. They shouldn't bloody well have to in the first place, mind (though the mechanics of expressing may require it), but the idea that they can be followed and harassed by ignoramuses such as the woman who made the complaint, and that security guard and cleaner is utterly appalling.

Get this- a large number of the women I have interviewed compare Australia to Egypt when it comes to our attitude to breastfeeding in public. Egypt. A very conservative, muslim country where most women wear headscarves. It really is that bad here.

I'd like to see anyone who complains about or harassess any woman who is acting to provide her baby with breastmilk, either through breastfeeding or expressing, be dragged off and questioned by the cops themselves, the same as if they harassed or intimidated any other person going about their normal business. As for that woman who made the complaint based on what her child saw- I can't believe someone would teach their kid that boobs are evil and bad and something to be complained about. For christ's sake, what a twisted thing to do to a child.

Breastfeeding is a fucking right. Anyone who behaves otherwise and tries to impinge on that right ought to be slapped. Not to mention publicly shamed. Go news.com.au for bringing the story to public attention.

Wanker Rating...

If I sold a kidney and a half and in an orgy of vain materialism bought this car(a BMW 135i, coupe of course), would I become a BMW driving wanker? It's cheaper than an Audi RS4...


*sigh* I guess it's just as well I'm not rich... I had a ride in my friend's M3, the last decent M3, before the 3 series became bloated, soft, overweight executive wagons, and it was really fun. working with people with sensory issues I know that I constantly seek proprioceptive accelerative input. It would be a kind of therapy also it would be way more fun than kids. For a start, you can't put children in the garage overnight, well you can but people look at you funny when they find out...

Rudd's budget woes solved

What Kevin Rudd ought to do in response to the ineffectual opposition's attempts to block aspects of his budget, including his alcopop tax hike, is what he really should have done in the first place: increase alcohol taxes across the board so that all alcoholic drinks are taxed according to the volume of alcohol they contain. Not according to how politically sensitive a tax hike on a particular drink will be. What Rudd did on alcopops, while defensible to some extent (i.e. 'probably better than doing nothing), was the cowardly populist option. To have any real effect on harmful patterns of alcohol consumption, he needs to ensure that people who are just drinking to get drunk don't just simply need to change what they're drinking.

As for the opposition's efforts to block the tax increase for luxury cars, all we need there is an ALP-funded advertising campaign with a picture of Malcolm 'Silvertail' Turnbull side-by-side with a picture of a Bentley, or a Merc. A good old-fashioned dirty paid-for-by-the-party ad. Not a John-Howard-patented political ad masquerading as a public information campaign. I think a low blow like that would really strike a chord with 'struggling Mums and Dads'. And it certainly wouldn't be as stupid or desperate as Brendan Nelson's attempt to label the tax a 'Tarago tax'.

And if all that fails, just hold a bloody double-dissolution election. Hopefully that would mean nutty religious senator Steve Fielding and the fickle one-issue senator Nick Xenophon would be out on their arses and Libs might possibly lose a couple of senate seats. Better than all the dilly-dallying and horse-trading that's going to be going on between the Labor party and those two nutbars. But I do wish they'd give Nick Xenophon his wish and just ban poker machines throughout the country. We'd all be better off without them.

Cult kooks badmouth Brown

Exclusive Brethren cult-leader Bruce Hales in an old family photo.

The Exclusive Brethren are getting a voice in the Sydney Morning Herald? What next?

The cult has accused Greens senator Bob Brown of, effectively, lying and including 'factual inaccuracies' in a speech to the senate urging them to conduct an inquiry into the Brethren's activities.

The Exclusive Brethren are best known for their belief that John Howard was appointed by god to be Australian Prime Minister, and that engaging in underhanded, crooked, and possibly downright criminal activities in support of Howard were justified as a means to this end.

The Greens leader suggested the inquiry should examine $10 million in government payments to five Exclusive Brethren schools throughout Australia, even though they had a total of just 2,000 students.

Wow.

Brethren schools received funding in the same way as other non-government schools, Mr Hales said.

"Church members, their businesses and schools are subject to exactly the same regulations, laws and scrutiny by government agencies, tribunals and courts as other Australian individuals, businesses and schools.

"We obey the law scrupulously."

Oh that's a laugh and a half, when on numerous occasions the cult supported and encouraged some of its members in directly flouting a judge's orders in a family law case. Not to mention the shenanigans with their possibly illegal operations to hide their efforts to direct money to the Liberal party.

The Brethren called on Senator Brown to stop vilifying the church and it members.

The sect was embroiled in controversy before last year's federal election, when it was alleged it was campaigning for then-environment minister Malcolm Turnbull in his marginal seat of Wentworth in Sydney's east.

All Bob Brown wants to do is expose the nasties, the cockroaches in this creepy religious group and their bizarre ties to the Liberal party. Revealing the truth is in no way vilification.

Kenya- two can play at the rorting game

Screw the people, share the loot: the west's solution for Zimbabwe?

Ever since the Zimbabwe elections and subsequent talks between Zanu PF and the MDC, I've heard and read numerous examples in the media of how the 'compromise' reached between the opposing political parties in Kenya is a great example of what could be achieved in Zimbabwe.

Like hell it is:

Revelations that the spouses of Kenya's vice-president and prime minister will be paid £3,150 a month for showcasing the "nation's family values" have caused anger in a country where nearly half the population lives below the poverty line.

Pauline Musyoka, wife of vice-president Kalonzo Musyoka, and prime minister Raila Odinga's wife Ida will receive the allowances despite holding lucrative jobs. They will also qualify for generous travel benefits.

The women will join President Mwai Kibaki's wife Lucy on the state payroll. Mrs Kibaki saw her allowance jump last year to nearly £4,000 a month to account for her "increased social responsibilities". She has hardly been seen in public this year.

[...]

It is not only the size of the allowances that has enraged people, but the timing. Tens of thousands of people have yet to return to their homes following post-election violence. The economy is struggling to recover, while government spending shot up dramatically due to the appointment of 42 cabinet ministers.

All the opposition wanted was their piece of the pie. The same is probably true in Zimbabwe, unfortunately.

New North Bank: Dear public, this one's slightly less worse

The Bligh government just don't get it, do they? Don't build on our fucking river! Don't whore it out to developers. Is that too much to ask?

Here's the comment I left on the Brisbane Times' 'Your Say' page regarding the 'new' (i.e. slightly pared-down) design for Brisbane's North Bank. Needless to say, they didn't post it (the Courier Mail would have- they'll publish almost anything!):

New North Bank! Now with less corruption!

No no no no no. 'Reduced footprint' my *rse. So they've reduced it by 20m and it now 'only' covers 50m, or roughly one quarter of the river, compared with 70m (or one third) in the previous design. They needed to scrap the requirement that no taxpayers' money is to be spent on the project. That's what made it such a massive rort in the first place, hence the proposal for 30-storey buildings. How does the public benefit from a 30-storey building plonked right on the riverfront (if not on top of the river, again)? It doesn't. Wake up, Anna Bligh. You were happy enough to spend $63 million of our money on the vanity project that is the Tank St Bridge- why not North Bank?

Engrish makes me smile

Ever since picking up a packet of 'Crown Pie' at the local Coles when they first appeared on the shelves, Gam and I have a habit of trying out any of these dry, slightly sweet cake-like items covered with a vaguely chocolate-flavoured fatty coating that we see. The Hanaro Mart in Toowong is a rich vein to mine for such creations, and here is a 'chocolate coating cake' whose 'blurb' tickled my fancy.



No better or worse than any of the others we've tried, although the 'chocolate' coating is perhaps a tad thicker. No sticker on the packet featuring the ingredients list in English, but I won't dob them in for that. The layer in the middle of the cake that to my mind looks rather like jam on the packaging in fact turned out to be a thinnish layer of opaque, brown, oily-textured stuff that was slightly sweeter than the cake.

I have yet to convince Gam to try another brand that includes a 'cheese flavour' of such a chocolate-coated cake. Complete with pictures of swiss cheese slices on the packaging. I think it's worth buying for the experience, even if it does turn out to be completely disgusting!

I Paid for your Folden

Good for going sideways making lots of smoke, burning shitloads of petrol and not much else.

And so did you if you bought a car not built by what we laughingly call our automotive industry. Thanks to the tariffs placed on imports, Holdens and Fords cost less than imported cars. Of course this is because putting together pre-manufactured bits of prehistoric automobiles built by companies rapidly going the way of the dinosaur is a deep part of our national image and makes us who we are as a nation, at least if you read the marketing.

We've just had a review of the moribund 'industry' completed by Steve Bracks and, big shock, it recommends that we keep subsidizing Folden to keep making crappy cars for not very much money, only dropping the subsidy to 5% in 2010. And what are Folden doing with the $20 billion in subsidies they get from the taxpayer? Are they trying to catch up to European car makers who are making more efficient, more powerful engines that emit less greenhouse gas? Are they trying to catch up to Asian car manufacturers' hybrid technology? As if. It's just giant, petrol swilling engines and ever more desperate advertising. These guys should know better, they're part of the same companies that spent decades wringing money out of the US government to protect them from leaner, smarter, better European and Asian cars, only to spectacularly implode recently. Propping the turkeys up over here will have the same result.

I don't give a stuff about this manufacturing industry bullshit. We don't even make computers here and they're a damn sight more important to our economy than the Holden Commodore. why should I shed a tear if they're forced to get their act together and, gasp, actually compete with other companies? Are we to keep every car industry employed forever? Despite truckloads of government cash they've been shedding jobs for years (still managing to fine executive bonuses though). Why can't the people we've got build Toyotas or something? Of course that won't happen, because Holden mean$ a great deal to Australia.

Breaking News!!!

Despite what you might have seen on Channel 7, baby animals do die in the wild. Even if you call them Colin. Colin, Colette, now that an autopsy has determined the animal's sex, was euthanased a few days ago. Of course all number of cranks and crack pots fronted the media waving bits of hose attached to buckets explaining how they could feed an animal the size of a small yacht and teach it how to find krill when it grew to 30 tons.

The first I heard about our ex-cetacean was a bit of newstainment on ACA where an eternally serious Tracy Grimshaw informed me that Colin had been abandoned by his mother, who is no doubt a dole bludging renter from hell with 5 different kids to 5 different fathers (cut to ACA reporter in a speedboat chasing after a humpback whale 'Why won't you talk to us Sharleeayne?'). Now the SMH needs to talk to 'eminent scientists' to discover that animals die in the wild, even baby ones, now STFU and eat your veal. Honestly, the world is getting dumber all the time.

Mitcham wins

Looks like Matt Mitcham is the only non-Chinese diver to take out a gold medal at the Beijing Olympics. Good on him, and what a nice story. A worthy pin-up boy indeed.

'Diary' entry

Having had no junk food for a few days, I am seriously regretting a packet of gummy fruit lollies and a handful of 'hot barbeque chicken!' crisps from Hanaro Mart. My stomach is rebelling. Gam fetched me the very last piece of chewing gum we had left so I won't feel so pukey.

Meanwhile, Adele Horin has written a very good Op-Ed column in this weekend's SMH on how Australia has got its priorities fucked up when we value sporting prowess by a small number of elite athletes over more substantial things like indicators of national health and wellbeing, reducing the disparity in life expectency between indigenous and non-indigenous people and even social participation in sport. Definitely worth a read.

Here is one more reason why record company executives should all be burning in hell instead of writing 'copyright' laws for our democratically elected governments to inflict on us: Britney Spears live- the feed from her microphone isolated during a live show.

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Today Gam and I did our first tutoring session with an organisation that enlists volunteers to provide free English classes and homework assistance to refugees. It wasn't nearly as daunting as I'd feared- quite fun, in fact. I helped out a year 12 girl with an essay she was writing in which she was to argue the case for widespread screening for a particular genetic condition- mostly it was just providing pointers on structure and where she could fill out her argument some more. She was close to finishing her assignment and when I asked when the due date was she told me it was around 2 weeks from now. I don't think I ever finished an assignment with more than 24 hours to spare when I was in highschool, so I was mightily impressed. The second girl I helped out was a year 10 student doing a home economics assignment, and I think her main problem was confidence. Her spelling wasn't so hot, but neither is the spelling of most Australians- her main problem was being too scared to write stuff down in case it was wrong or didn't make sense. I knew exactly how she felt, because it's the same way I tended to approach things when I was learning mandarin. We didn't get her assignment finished, but I tried to help her out with some strategies and descriptive words to use when phrasing her answers for a section she hadn't completed.

After we finished up with the tutoring, we stopped by Coles on our way home to pick up some shoe polish and feta (why is it impossible to get Australian-made goat or sheep's milk feta at Coles now?), and Gam noticed a very vertically-challenged older lady having trouble reaching for some product on the top shelf in the cleaning products aisle. He offered help, which she briefly declined and then accepted. Gam joked that his skill in reaching the items on the high shelf was the reason I married him, and I noted that other women are always borrowing him for this very purpose. The old lady thanked Gam and we went our separate ways. On our way out of Toowong Village, after Gam had stopped outside the store to talk to a colleague he recognised, the old lady came by, pushing her trolley. She said to me "When my husband and I got married, this was back in the 60s, it was because we wanted to get away from our parents... and have regular sex and a double bed. I think your reason was much better!" She then wished me all the best and continued up the escalator. I noticed the back of her t-shirt had a picture of the Phantom on it. What a cool old lady. I bet she never voted for John Howard.

Forbidden Elderly Care: Prohibited Nursing

Burgerman may have found the holy grail- a cover of a Japanese porno that looks likely to be 'Forbidden Elderly Care'. The back cover has some Engrish that reads "Prohibited Nursing", which sounds very similar. Could they be one and the same? Thanks Burgerman! Good luck in tracking down a clip :D

Sarah & Gam's Kempsey trip, Day 3

On the third day of our Kempsey trip, Gam and Mum and I went to visit my Mum's cousin at South West Rocks. She's 12 years or so older than Mum, so they weren't very close growing up, but they've been in touch more recently. I think it was first because Gaye was living at Newcastle, where my brother lives, and offered Richard and Dad a place to stay when they had to go down for something. I forget. Richard told me a great story of how Gaye, who likes to drink, got chatting in a Newcastle pub with a guy from Kempsey who Richard knew and somehow found out that they had Richard in common. How a 60-year old woman even gets chatting with a 20-something old guy over a beer in a pub I don't know, but Gaye would definitely have to be one of my cooler relatives. Since that time, Mum and Dad and Richard and Gaye have seen a bit more of each other, and Gaye and her husband Ian recently retired to South West Rocks. I hadn't seen her since I was maybe 10 years old (just a guess- maybe younger, maybe older. A long time). She looked immediately familiar to me, so I suppose she can't have changed much.

Ian had made scones. From a packet, he boasted. I didn't even know there was such a thing as packet-mix scones, but they were very good. Apparently the Country Women's Association has gone into the packet-scone-mix business. Still, I don't think I could bring myself to buy packet-mix for something that's so easy to make.

Gam and I mostly sat and listened to the goss on various family members. And it really was gossipy. Maybe everyone else is used to that sort of thing, but I never had much contact with members of the extended family growing up, and given that my Aunt and Uncle are far too staid and boring (read: no failed marriages, no scandals), and even my then-bachelor Uncle Richard was never quite the swinging single (as far as I know), nothing has ever gone beyond the odd bit of sniping about Auntie Anne's cooking (guilty).

It's not really very nice to learn unpleasant things about people, though. I mean, I already knew that Grandma's family was very well off and that Grandma married down, financially speaking (and only financially speaking). I hadn't known that every sister who married had also used her wealth as a means of wielding power over her husband. Auntie Al bought Bill a pharmacy. Auntie Mew bought Doug a newsagency. And none of them ever let their husband forget it, even if they made successes of the business! That is almost admirable in a way, given the way things were for women at the time, but I just can't imagine that being a foundation for a happy relationship, always trying to wield power over one's partner through financial superiority.

But certainly Grandma and Auntie Al had no business sense of their own. When we sat and ate lunch after visiting Gaye, Mum pointed out a building on a block of land from where we were sitting and said "Grandma and Auntie Al used to own that". I asked why Auntie Mew hadn't owned any places at the 'Rocks, or a flat at the block of units Grandma, Auntie Al and Auntie Clarrie used to own. Mum said she hadn't wanted to be in business with her sisters, probably because she was savvy enough to see that they were going to make a hash of it (and did).

We ate fish and chips out on the big brown rock in the middle of the creek.

Even Auntie Mew had her shortcomings, however. She was apparently very ambitious for her kids to do well and put a lot of pressure on them. One of her sons changed his name and now lives a self-sustaining hippy existence in Cairns with his wife, using compost toilets and growing their own food. Another one developed a drug and alcohol problem, married under pressure from his parents just because he'd slept with the girl, once disappeared for 5 years, reappeared, and later committed suicide by jumping off the balcony of Auntie Mew's apartment in Sydney. Apparently she went to North Queensland at one point and nursed him while he came off drugs. There was some issue with her daughter's first marriage (the second one turned out fine), but in what regard that was a failure I'm not sure. Still, it's hard to change my opinion of Auntie Mew as being on of the few family members on that side who have their head screwed on properly, from the impression I got of her when I met her. See what I mean by gossipy, though? It almost sounds like a soap opera.



The gossip got more interesting when Gaye revealed that one of her sons, who Mum told me ages ago is a corporate lawyer-turned-multi-multimillionaire hotel buyer and corporate something-or-other, was half or quarter owner of the company that is responsible for those dreadful "WANT LONGER LASTING SEX?" billboards that Gam and I have whinged about from time to time. I refrained from saying anything rude about the horrid billboards (I'm no prude, they're just visually offensive), and Gaye related a funny story of how the billboards had upset people in New Zealand so the company just changed 'sex' to 'six' on the billboards (y'know, because that's how the kiwis pronounce it and everything). Still, having a son who buys hotels for a living can't be all bad- Gaye told us that she and Ian got to stay for free in Cairns and were treated like royalty by the staff... to the point where they phoned their son and asked if he could get them another couple of nights free. Which he duly did. Hmmm. Free holidays in Cairns... Maybe now should be the point where I start regretting that I wasn't closer to my extended family when growing up...

After picking us some lovely fresh silverbeet from their front garden, Gaye and Ian waved us off and we drove to Horsehoe Bay to buy some fish and chips for lunch. We sat on a nice broad rock in a creek that Gam and I sat on to eat fish and chips the first time I ever took him to the 'Rocks. There were way too many chips for the three of us, and no seagulls to feed them too, but it was a lovely spot for lunch. South West Rocks is at its best when there are no tourists around. We watched a cormorant chasing fish and then drying itself out on its very own (poo covered) rock.

When we'd just about finished lunch, Dad showed up on his Harley. I can't help thinking 'mid-life crisis!' every time I hear the word 'Harley'. Dad reckons it is a fairly crap bike to drive, and seems to even perhaps show a little regret for ever buying it- I think the advantage for him is that the foot pegs are in a better position for his dodgy leg than they are on the BMW. Mum had bought her motorbike boots and stuff in case she went back on the bike with Dad, but we decided that she would come with us on the drive to Trial Bay Gaol. Truthfully, I don't like the idea of Mum being on the bike. She's so little and fragile, and it takes so little for someone on a motorbike to be killed, or badly injured. I feel rather protective of Mum.

The rockpools in question were on the opposite side of the rock wall.

When we got to the Gaol we parked around the side near some rocks. I think the main reason we went there was because I mentioned I wanted to see a rockpool. I love rockpools, and I have some great memories of poking around in them as a kid, but the ones I remember have largely disappeared. Dad remembered that there are some good ones among the rocks at the side of the Gaol. Unfortunately the tide was too high, but we climbed around on the rocks, saw some more whales and spotted a turtle. It's a great spot for seeing turtles and dolphins, that spot, but there were no dolphins this time.

No whales in the photo, but they were appearing at the point pretty much smack-bang in the middle. The view is across the mouth of Trial Bay.

Honestly I would have preferred to just go with Gam, and eat lunch on top of the rocks there, because Dad was a real pain, clambering around on the rocks close to where the waves were breaking. Doing that with a dodgy leg and holding a large camera in one hand is neither safe nor sensible, and we all subsequently spent a good part of the time worrying about Dad.



Picturing having to jump into the turbulent waters near those rocks is no fun at the best of times, let alone having to plan a rescue in my head and wonder how quickly I could remove my boots and whether my jeans and multiple layers of jumpers would weigh me down. I probably wouldn't have worried quite so much if he hadn't been carting the camera around, but part of me gets annoyed because it's exactly the sort of behaviour Dad would have told my brother and I off for when we were kids.

Gam and Dad walking around on the rocks.

Thankfully everyone lived. We stopped off at the fish shop on the way home, opposite the house I fantasised about owning as a kid- to my delight I saw a 'holiday rental' sign on the lawn. I might never be able to afford to own it, but at least we can stay there for a week one Summer! Just imagine the barbeques you could have on that lawn...



I forget what kind of fish we bought- local flathead I think. Gam made a fantastic spicey fish stew for dinner that we ate with the olive and thyme bread we brought down from Brisbane. As usual, he knocked everyone's socks off. My Mum, not a reknowned seafood lover, freaked out at the very idea of fish stew, but was a solid convert once dinner had been served! Grandma loved it too, convinced that she had somehow telepathically transmitted the idea of buying fish to us on our way home.

And that was it. We were up at some ungodly hour the next morning, packing Feifei and Keith Richards and the siamese fish into the car. The trip home was fairly uneventful apart from some idiot truck drivers crashing and killing each other at Broadwater, meaning we had to take a fairly pleasant detour through Lismore and Bangalow, giving us some ideas of places to visit on our next trip.

Matt Mitcham hotter than Lara Bingle

Imagine my surprise when yesterday I noticed that not only was 'Lara Bingle nude' not showing up in the top 5 search terms leading to this blog, Matthew Mitcham is our new pin-up boy, with two variations on his name appearing in the top 10, both ranking higher than Lara.

Elderly Japanese porn star Shigeo Tokuda and his 'Forbidden Elderly Care' porno are both hot news as well- I lost count of how many times those terms popped up. If any Japanese-speaking smartypants can find me the Japanese name of 'Forbidden Elderly Care', or a clip from any of Shigeo Tokuda's porn films, I and a million or so fellow pervs/people with a morbid sense of curiousity who read the Time.com and/or Fleshbot articles will be eternally grateful.

Virgin Mobile kiss off two customers

Regarding our little issue with Virgin Mobile that I mentioned last week, Virgin have not bothered to reply to my email. Apart from their Totally Friendly! Totally Quirky! autoreply, that is:

Hi Sarah

Thanks for taking the time to send us feedback, we really appreciate it!

We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

Cheers
Virgin Mobile Team

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This email, and any files attached to it, should be treated as totally top secret between the sender and the addressed recipient/s. If you are reading this but think that you probably shouldn’t be, please delete this email, dispose of any printed copies & agree that we’ll never mention it again. We’ve done our best to scan this email for any nasty viruses, but what with technology and all, we can’t absolutely guarantee it. Why are you reading disclaimers anyway?

*******************************************************************

I'm afraid an auto-reply doesn't really cut it.

I phoned them today, only to be told that only Gam can discuss the issue with his bill. So Gam phoned them, and he was basically accused of inventing the story of the Optus network outage, during which he was billed for 9 calls totalling 34 seconds that never went through. Given that Virgin use a cheap foreign call-centre it's not surprising that the 'customer service' rep had never heard of the Optus network outage- although I'd be surprised if we were the first to complain about being charged for calls on that day that never went through. The person Gam spoke to reckoned he was getting through to my voice-mail. I don't have voice-mail, but Virgin do play a sassy (read: fucking irritating) pre-recorded message that basically tells you the person isn't answering their phone, and then charge you for the privilege of listening to it. Seriously. But on the day the Optus network went down, even that wasn't working, yet Gam got charged $6.30 for 34 alleged seconds' worth of calls that never connected (although the 'customer service' arsehole reckoned they did). After a period of arguing, the 'customer service' person gave Gam $8 off the bill and Gam ended the call. Gam never got to mention the fact that there is a general problem with calls cutting off and he was in fact charged for $14 worth of calls totalling 94 seconds. He said after fighting even the charges on the day the network was down he figured they wouldn't acquiesce to cutting the whole $14 I calculated he shouldn't have to pay.

I will be sending one final email to Virgin.

Given that they didn't reply to the first email I ever sent them, or the email I sent last week, I doubt they'll bother responding to the one where I tell them we're going to pay out our contracts and switch providers. Probably to Telstra pre-paid, unbelieveable though that sounds- I've worked out that even in a worst-case scenario where I use as much credit as Gam, our combined costs of $60 per month will be $5 cheaper than what our typical costs have been with Virgin. And that's being generous and excluding the odd blow-out in call costs such as the time my mobile suddenly lost the ability to send and receive SMSes and I was forced to make phonecalls when I usually would have just sent an SMS. Not to mention, if we switch to Telstra pre-paid we'll be able to call each other (and my parents, and my cousin Rachelle) for free- and when we were on Telstra we never had a problem with calls mysteriously dropping out, thus forcing us to redial (though I'm sure if Telstra stumble upon the idea and realise they can charge people for multiple call connections on a single call then they'll probably start dropping the quality of their service too). There's no way I'll use $30 worth of pre-paid in a month (where the free calls apply), but it's about right for Gam, so even if I use my $30 over 50 days and can't call for free for 20 of those days, Gam will be able to call me.

Gam would have got better value calling a phone sex hotline than going with Virgin. We're not under any illusion that the customer service is better with Telstra (who send all of their customer service reps chasing down customers who departed because of the shitty service, if our experience with their home phone and internet services is anything to go by), but we were relatively happy with the pre-paid mobile service we had with them- and at least we won't be paying quite as much for the privilege of being pissed off.

You vote: Parody or Batshit Insane?

Earlier, an anonymous comment was posted in response to this post on the Catholic Church's interference with peoples' right to contraception and family planning in the Philippines.

Given how crazy anti-abortionists generally are, I'm rather stuck trying to decide if this person has written a sarcastic post with a fine parody of anti-abortionist beliefs, or if the commenter is for real. Here's what they wrote:

Abortion is almost a religion on its own : it's called satanism and wichcraft (cf witch doctors, ritual sacrifice of children, etc).

Abortion is a threat to all of humanity, not just women and children. They want to kill everything through the culture of death, a deadly poison created by politicans who are are often willing and practicing executioners.

For a female to advocate abortion is a total betrayal of the human race, to the guilty mother, the murdered child and the forsaken husband.

Because of this, the female becomes the bride of Satan and releases demonic energy into the whole world.

It has in effect been revealed by practicing satanists that abortion is a required ritual in order to achieve the liberation of evil souls from the gates and shackles of hell, then fullfilling a diabolical prophecy.

Please give your opinion- for real parody, or real nutter?

My parents, Hetty Johnston's nightmare

When Gam and I were in Kempsey, we teased my Mum about having child porn hanging on the walls. Mum, never one to really keep up with the news, was a bit bemused, until we explained the recent uproar over artistic depictions of naked kids, with the likes of Hetty Johnston labelling them pornographic, and the ridiculous Joe Tucci claiming that a naked picture taken of a six year old could come back to haunt them when they ran for the presidency or wanted to become a teacher. Or some such rubbish. Even after we explained, Mum still seemed a bit bemused. And who could blame her?

My Dad used to be a photographer. One of the pictures we had hanging on the studio wall was a large print of my then baby brother laughing and sitting naked in an antique wash-basin with a matching jug next to it. Customers would see it and ask for their baby to be photographed in the same setting. It was a great photo. Also kicking around the house are numerous photographs of my brother and I in various stages of undress, some in frames, some in the family photo album.

While flicking through the family photo album, as I do almost every time I go home, I decided to document the litany of abuse that occurred throughout my childhood, from the naked and semi-naked pictures taken without my 'consent' (because I was under 18, remember), to clear evidence of physical abuse and neglect. It's shocking:

Without proper feeding, at times I was forced to eat dirt in order to quell the pangs of hunger...

Forced to sleep rough, a garbage bin was often my only shelter.

Occasionally I would be able to steal cat biscuits- often these would be my only meal for the day.

I suffered neglect and a lack of adult supervision...

But try as I might, I was never able to escape the clutches of my abusers...

Nude photographs were often taken without my signing a consent form...

Sometimes photographed in poses that paedophile freaks and Hetty Johnson-types would see as arousing...

In Winter I would scrounge clothes from garbage bins.
They may have fit poorly, but it was the only way to survive.

I was often left at the mercy of wild animals.

Though I was forced to live in a garbage bin, occasionally the bin would be brought inside to enable me to take part in family photos. My brother and I, both naked here, would feign happiness for the camera. Really, we were dying inside, knowing that if such photographs ever came to light our chances at running for president or becoming a teacher would be ruined.

There you have it. Evidence that people who take naked pictures of kids are evil and abusive. And despite my apparently happy demeanour, I am in fact scarred for life. No, really!

Sarah & Gam's Kempsey trip, Days 1 & 2

On the afternoon we arrived in Kempsey we did the usual tour of the house and garden with my parents. The last time we were in Kempsey was for Christmas 2006, and every time we go back a lot has changed, and a lot has stayed the same. My parents, for one. But I love the tours of the garden, even if I do get a serious case of garden-envy every time I go there. Green space, trees, clean air, room for chooks and a dog (even though they don't have any pets since the family dog and cat died, and they gave away my two silkies). The possibilities afforded by a backyard make the soulless McMansions popping up around Brisbane seem all the more obscene.



When we all went grocery shopping that first afternoon, we attempted to go and visit some family friends, Gary and Wendy- a couple just a little older than my Mum and Dad (but who always seem just a little bit younger in their approach to life). I'm pretty sure I've mentioned them before- they were at my brother's 21st birthday. Gary has one of the more aggressive forms of prostate cancer (not the worst a guy can have, but not the best either), and was due to go in for surgery on the Tuesday. They weren't home, but a small town being what it is, Mum and Dad ran into their parish priest as we were leaving the shops, and he told them Gary had been admitted to hospital in some kind of emergency.



The hospital is only a few blocks from Mum & Dad's house, so we stopped by on the way home. Gary had developed pericarditis, probably as a result of having the flu for a couple of weeks and overdoing it with his singing and golf, as well as work. Wendy was her usual wonderful, bubbly self, though somewhat full of I-told-you-so for Gary, having warned him to take it easy. While we were there, their oldest child dropped by with his eldest daughter. I remembered Ben as being extremely tall and rangy-looking, with long hair, baggy t-shirts and an almost sullen look. Now he's plumper (though not plump by any means), balding, with a buzz-cut and a smile- just as easy-going and cheerful as his parents. His little girl looked to be about 5, no doubt spoiled rotten by her grandparents... it's weird though- Gary and Wendy don't seem old enough to be grandparents. I suppose I have a warped view of things because my Grandma was about 67 when I was born, so to me, grandparents are supposed to look old and actually be old.



My brother Richard's girlfriend's parents just became grandparents- at the ripe old age of almost 40! I think Priscilla's mother turns 40 this year- she was 16 when she had Priscilla, and her dad was 17, I think. Priscilla's 19 year-old sister went into hospital in Sydney the evening we arrived, giving birth to her deadbeat 30-year-old boyfriend's baby. I haven't met the guy, but he sounds like he has the maturity of a 17 year old. Likes to regularly get blind drunk. Shortly after having his uber-Holden (some kind of Commodore?- like I could care) returned after it was confiscated by the cops for hooning, took Richard and my Dad out to show how easily it could get up to 200km/hour. I think he actually holds down a job, mind, but that only makes him marginally less of a douchebag. When Dad heard that Richard and Cil had travelled from Newcastle to Sydney to be there for the birth he ranted and raved because Richard had an important assignment due at uni the following Monday. He couldn't even understand why Priscilla would want to be there. Despite getting pregnant quite possibly being not the most sensible thing Priscilla's sis has ever done, it didn't mean it was any less momentous an occasion for them, Priscilla becoming an Aunty for the first time. And, let's face it, my brother becoming an Uncle (he's been with Cil for about 8 years- longer than Gam and I have been together). As if they were going to miss out on being there.

It's an odd thing to admit, but I think I had a little pang of jealousy with the realisation that my brother is going to be someone else's Uncle Richard, and that he's gained a whole other family in the same way that I have with Gam's. I'd always assumed that he was going to be Uncle Richard when we had kids, not when some 19-year-old upstart sister had one! Funny, spending half my life wanting to be rid of my bratty brother then all of a sudden not wanting to share him. Heh. He told me he's going to take a leaf out of our Uncle Richard's book, Uncle Richard being the definitive cool uncle. My brother will be a cool uncle, to Bonita's baby and hopefully one day ours.

The next day, we all planned to go somewhere. Gam and I were thinking we'd all go to Bellbrook, for something different, and then he and I could go on a drive to the beach together in the afternoon. Problem was that every time we said something like "We were thinking we might go to...", my parents would respond with something along the lines of "What a great idea! When do we leave?" Despite my telling Mum that Gam and I did want to do a drive somewhere on our own that afternoon, it slipped her mind, and the assumption was that everyone would come along. No such thing as time alone when we're staying with my parents. So we scrapped the idea of Bellbrook- it would be an hour's drive just to get there, as opposed to a 20-30 minute drive to get to one of the local beaches. Hat Head was the chosen destination- just a short walk on one of the trails. From our vantage point on a seat on the hillside we did get to see some whales breaching, and it was a very pleasant walk. Not as long as the forced march we took in 2006, but not as pretty either, despite the weather being exponentially better.

Mum and Dad made me drive to Hat Head and back, which probably wasn't a good idea. Especially given that their car is a slug compared with ours (when it comes to both braking and accelerating) and they couldn't tell me whether I needed to turn off before or after an upcoming bridge, nearly leading to a disaster. A disaster that would have been my fault, if we'd ended up in a ditch instead of merely poorly executing a sudden turn and nearly ending up in a ditch. Yikes. When we got home I was exhausted, which at least meant I had a plausible excuse for cancelling any other travelling plans for the day.



Gam cooked a roast leg of lamb for dinner, while I examined a bunch of old jewellery that Mum and Dad had got from Grannies place after she died. There were several strands of pearls, as you might expect for an old lady, but also some more unusual pieces, including a locket with a picture in one side of a guy with mutton-chop whiskers, and behind a clear panel in the other side, dark and blond hair woven together in a little criss-cross pattern. Similarly, in the back of a ring, there was a tiny clear panel underneath the centre stone, no more than 4-5mm across, with the same hair. I asked Dad who it would have belonged to and he didn't know but said he could find out. Pretty nifty, although I don't think an antique locket with a hundred-year-old picture of a dude with mutton chop whiskers and some dead peoples' hair is jewellery anyone would actually wear. It's a relic.

Speaking of relics, my Grandma is most definitely alive and kicking- and has entirely gotten over the fact that Gam is black, thank heavens. She had some stitches on her face after having something cut out, and was ill a couple of months ago- she suffered a silent heart attack, but not a bad one. Since that health scare she has been sleeping in my brother's old room- previously she lived in a section of the house that was entirely separate to my parents' place. She has meals with my parents but goes next door to her place for showers and general pottering around- she's still able to do everything for herself, at least as much as she ever was. I was glad to see she had the appetite of a horse when I was there- a 92-year-old with an appetite that good can't be in danger of fading away any time soon. She didn't even grab me and quote bible verses at me- I think the fact that she now actually sleeps at night instead of staying up until the wee hours and watching televangelist crap has done wonders for her physical and mental health. She took a nap during the day at one point, which surprised Mum and Dad, because now she sleeps at night she apparently never naps during the day. Mum was telling me that even though Dad got the flu really badly this year, it never affected Grandma- apparently she never gets sick! I think Mum must have got her awesome immune system from Grandma and I must have got Dad's cruddy immune system. Bugger.

I think Grandma is a bit of a handful for my Mum especially. Dad too, but he's always been less tolerant and less involved. Mum is a saint, but I can tell she's worn down by having Grandma around all the time. I did remind Mum how great it is that Grandma can still feed, clothe and bathe herself, and Mum agreed (no doubt remembering the suffering of her Dad, who was an invalid for almost my entire life, cared for by Mum and Grandma), saying sometimes she kind of loses sight of that fact. To be honest, I'd probably go nuts with Grandma around all the time, although to my mind she's better than she was when we were last there, not worse. Mum swears she'd rather be put down than become a burden on us, but for all her faults (all 2 or 3 of them!), having to look after Mum would never compare to having to look after Grandma. And I would never, ever want to palm my parents off on a nursing home. Although I'm positive my Dad would top himself if it ever came close to looking like happening. Should a child be grateful for that? It's a horrible thought, but the alternative can be so much worse. It sucks to even have to think about things like that. But I suppose it sucks more to have such decisions sprung upon you than having someone outline their wishes for end-of-life care, as Grannie did. I don't think Grandma has outlined any such wishes- I don't think she has any plans on dying, and I would hate to see her sink to the point where she ever does have to think about it. It wouldn't surprise any of us if Grandma lived past 100, but whether she does or she doesn't, I hope everything is as quick and painless as I would want for myself or anyone else I love.