national lamers day

A couple of months ago I stated on another weblog that I didn’t watch Inspector Rex, but I hadn’t seen it for a couple of years and I’d forgotten why i didn’t watch it. I must’ve thought it was lame. i watched it again, and it’s actually kinda fun. If it’s any measure of reality, all i have to do to start having encounters of a potentially romantic nature is get a big dog then go wait out on the street (with dog) and beautiful women (probably a vet) on pushbikes will start running into me shortly thereafter. It happens to detective moser all the time.
Man that dog’s amazing. He puts the few small high-points in my life deep in the shade. One week Rex discovered a cure for AIDS and then another week he was making giant leaps forward in field of clinical child-psychology.

I sold the last of my guitars today. I still find haggling distasteful. How come it’s the done thing to haggle private seller folk like me, but if I tried to haggle at the dentist or supermarket i’d get laughed at. Why is it that whenever I’m trying to sell something, it’s a buyer’s market? Bah.

this one schmuck rang me up at a quarter past seven this morning. I was asleep. Being woken to be haggled is not my idea of a party, especially right now.
Whatever your opinion of Seinfeld, you gotta admit that it hits on a lot of central themes, like the mechanic guilt tripping him for not looking after the car. I got that from this one guy about the violin bass because I cracked the neck. He came around to buy it then told me how hard it would be to fix, if possible at all. And I’m notthe best at detecting bullshit, but I got the geniune feeling that this guy really loved guitars. He knew more about it than me, and was able to confirm the vague idea I had that it was indeed made in the late ’60s. I sold it to him very cheap and as he left I said, “gee mister I really hope you can fix it. Good Luck”.

Here’s something to try at home: lift your right foot off the floor and get that sucker swinging around in a clockwise circling motion. Then with a finger on your right hand, draw a “6” in the air in front of you.

Can’t do it, huh?
Me neither.
Angus Sampson mentioned it on the triple-R breakfasters a couple of days ago.

url: The Horse’s Mouth
date: 2003-08-07-08-17
I just read your post and ran into the living room to tell the Mrs and her mate about the leggy/draw a six trick. We spent 15 minutes laughing about it. Who says the web is full of useless information? That was fantastic!

url: Core
date: 2003-08-07-08-29
Heheh me neither .. lol .

yak sox
date: 2003-08-07-08-32
yeah – I was lying in bed when i heard it. It was one of those things that *I just knew* i didn’t need to sit up and try to know I couldn’t do it.

date: 2003-08-08-20-55
I liked your bit about Inspector Rex, just happened upon him one evening and being a dog lourver I just fell in love on the spot – he is just so adorable. Like the idea of you getting all paternalist or thirtyish and feeling like putting your roots down if you know what I mean, it had to happen to one of you sooner or later! Me in office today, catching up on huge voluminous workload, maybe am getting too old and just can’t hack it but you can’t question my enthusiasm and input. See ya ………… Ma

Cora Buhlert
url: thought scraps
date: 2003-08-12-22-26
Regarding Inspector Rex, the doggie was cute, but it did help that his owners were quite handsome guys at the time (though Tobias Moretti, the first Rex owner, has really put on fat in the last few years).

the death threat

Dexter Poindexter: “why? what did they leave?”
Vulcan Conray: “It was all over the doorstep — a crappy briefcase satched in petrol, a plastic bottle filled with more petrol inside it, boxes of matches ripped open, a pig’s head, some rope, a blank bereavement card, a brick …and an 8” by 10“ glossy signed fotograph of Ricky Martin.”
Dexter Poindexter: “Oh! That might be worth something.”
Vulcan Conray: “Nah. One of those laser-printer signature jobs.”

tshirt for rastas

I went stalking my cultural studies teacher’s office to see if I could pay for my mark this semester. He wasn’t there but there was a photocopy of the ‘if you see da police, Warn A Brother’ picture and a whole bunch of teachers’ union stuff there so I guess all the althusser stuff isn’t a ploy to get us to parrot it back without thinking after all. They do that sometimes, sneaky bastards.
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rich and creamy like tinned soup

Went for a long walk yesterday – voyaging through ‘burbia. I pilgrimmed to Kmart to get some esspresso coffee on special and arced out wide on the way back. I’m giving up on feeling concerned about it not raining enough for winter — forthwith. If i can feel like I got a touch too much sun on aug. 2 then it doesn’t matter if i have to have a bath in a bucket next feb.
A while back i started to get this feeling that I wanted a house. It was only the glimmer of a feeling, but significant when compared to absolutely no feeling in that area. And it has remained and reminds me a bit of –as a kid– coming across a New Thing like machine men, or transformers or some strain of lego and really wanting to collect the whole lot. I don’t think I did with any of them, but with two brothers we’d often combine to nearly get ’em all. But i’d invariably end up with this empty sensation and think that the getting was better than the got.
Collecting all the bit of western middle-classness (the spouse, the house, the New Car(!), the big dog, the outdoor furniture) has always been a revolting death-like proposition, but something’s shifting in me and I don’t know if it’s right or not.
Maybe I’m flipping out over nothing. Either way I’m facinated by houses like that below. It’s surreal. I suppose it’s based on English architecture, but it looks more like new England to me. Like Charlie Brown’s house. I know it’s not a great foto but i feel shifty enough without adding pulling up on my bike and whipping out a kamera. I had to split when the dog started barking.

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It’s like hiding. If i was an intergalatic criminal on the lamb, I’d hole-up in the next suburb west of here, Manifold Heights. What a trip.

HowTo: be a saboteur (part 1)

Visit a hardware store and buy yourself a large spanner.
– Put it in your lunchbox and take it to work with you. If it doesn’t fit in your lunchbox then perhaps you need to reassess whether your getting enough lunch.
– When at work locate The Machines (also known as ‘The Works’) and insert your large spanner into them in a vigorous manner. If you are having trouble locating The Machines then look harder, or ask a co-worker.

the odd rort

I joined the melbourne blogs thing. I figured what the hey right, right ay? It’s just a matter of months before the respective sprawls of geelong and melbourne join and intermingle like one big godawful flat 3 b/room BIR to-the-power-of-917 desert. Perhaps regional set-ups are a better idea in australia anyway (as opposed to the now somewhat neglected ‘aussieblogs’ thing). I think that’s how canada operates:- eg. Toronto, which seems fairly well organised.

I saw a dead rat half-floating in the “fountain” at uni this morning. It hasn’t been turned on for quite a while, probably because of how everyone gets this amazing lightening-strike original prank idea of adding detergent to it.

SirFlakey did a nice writeup of the current state of Ximian Linux desktop at CORE.

url: CORE
date: 2003-08-03-02-36
Eww – dead rat .. looovely.