I didn't think it'd be too difficult a task to find a photograph where all three judges were in the same shot. It really makes the other two look like shunners and Preston seem like the shunnee. I know, another made up word... I'm sorry. Secondly, seeing as Preston works for The Age I fail to see how they of all people could not manage to find a half decent shot of him that doesn't look like he's about to eat someone whole.
This shot in context seems fine enough without the cropping. It's still a little scary but his head doesn't take up the entire shot so it's not too bad. Or they could use that creepy photoshoot (which can be found on the Matt Preston fan page on Facebook) where he's biting down on a bunch of chilli peppers while trying to be seductive. Either way he's on the list of my new heroes.
Speaking of heroes, I came within half a metre of meeting one of them the other night. I went along with my sister to see Paul Dempsey at the Newtown Workers Club on Tuesday night. I had to apologise profusely for making her wait who knows how long since I was stuck at uni for a bit longer than I hoped and made up for it by buying her dinner and paying for tickets. Never say I don't care, because it just isn't true.
In any case we needn't have worried about getting there on time since there was easily enough space for everyone. We got a spot near the front though so I can't complain. I had no idea what to expect from the set, the only solo material I had heard so far were the two singles and they certainly sounded promising. I wasn't expecting him to play any Something For Kate material but he played 'The Astronaut' and 'Pinstripe' at Glen(n)'s repeated inebriated requests. The rest of the solo material was pretty solid even if I can't remember the majority of the song titles. Paul's live work is excellent, he often puts a different spin on album tracks to give them a new lease of life which makes seeing him or SFK always worthwhile.
As I said before I was came really close to meeting the man, but my idolism got in the way. Potentially meeting a personal hero means near instant paralysis and a shit eating grin on this face of mine, and this usually lasts until that person leaves the room or calls security. It's not really my fault, I'm just scared of saying something incredibly stupid.
I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to write in full the extent of what happened in my studio this first semester, so much happened and yet seemingly so little was produced. Without going into too much detail those who did not have prior bookings to go overseas pretty much stuck behind and worked on this thing on a daily basis with very little time for a break. Perhaps I'm lacking the correct 'attitude' in my approach to the entire thing but there weren't a lot of opportunities to catch up with friends over this past month. So when I caught up with a bunch of non-architecture friends last Saturday I seemed to appreciate the entire thing a lot more than usual.
The day was fairly intensive transport wise, being in transit for a lot of the day zipping from place to place. I had to stop by uni first in the morning (as was often the case over these holidays) to do some work and check on things and that meant jumping on a train at 9am on a Saturday in the middle of winter. On the platform at Heidelberg this crazy old man walked past me holding two bags of shopping, muttering under his breath while making a bold fashion statement by wearing shorts. Perhaps you don't need trousers when you've got a lifetime of bitterness to keep you warm, something I look forward to doing in later years.
After performing my duties at uni I rushed down to catch a train to Croydon just to play cards. I really shouldn't bother going such long distances just to do things like that but there are times when I absolutely need to be playing cards. This was one of those times. The trip from the city to Croydon takes about an hour so I passed the time sleeping or listening to music, my default public transport stance. Cards didn't go too bad, I came third overall and fun was had for all. Afterwards I hitched a lift to the station and jumped on the new bus back to Heidelberg, where the trusty Vengabus was waiting in the car park. I used to catch that bus every day to school, and having a new bus route replacing the bus where I spent many a morning and afternoon wasn't as odd as I first thought. I guess it is only a bus route after all.
For the sake of retaining dignity in the years to come I shouldn't put this into writing but my driving experience is limited at best, and I haven't had all that much night driving time under my belt. So it was probably fortunate that it was dark because I managed to flip one lever too many and ended up with the windscreen wipers on for the entire trip home. Any attempt to switch it off ended up making them just go faster or even worse the water nozzle would trigger, making it just as well the wipers were on. I did manage to get rid of them after I pulled into the garage after fiddling around for a couple more minutes though.
After gracing my family with my presence for a quick dinner I hitched another lift from a friend and went to what is probably our group's favourite restaurant, The Pancake Parlour in Doncaster. We refer to it as the Stoner Parlour since it never closes and those ads on the radio seem to think stoners are their primary market. I haven't seen many of these guys for the majority of the holidays and it was a bit annoying that uni kept me away from the remnants of my social life for so long. That stuff didn't matter much once we got there though, I regaled them with stories of my triumphant occasionally superior card playing skills over those noobs and they replied by doing parts of the Thriller dance. Seems apt really. Contrary to popular belief the Stoner Parlour is not full of stoners at 10pm, in fact it was full of normal looking folk that made us look like the weirdos, what with our bad singing and pretend zombie movements.
Looking for some time to burn we then went back to my place to watch The Ashes until 1 or so. Haddin produced bye after bye without fail and it was fun watching my friends predict byes with staggering accuracy. This was probably the first time in ages I let people come over to my place. I often have people drop me off but letting them into the House of Chiu is another matter entirely (I came up with that phrase during Year 12 camp while pouring water for friends at lunch). I once had a bunch of friends over my place back in Hong Kong and I had a ridiculous time trying to prevent them from breaking anything. Ever since then I have had this aversion to having anyone over, or at least in large groups I can tame with pepper spray, or a large trap door inhabited by an equally large trap door spider.
I was pretty buggered by the end of it but it was definitely worth it. In the seemingly never ending shitstorm that is my studio, this was the textbook definition of a perfect day.
Join me next time when I drag you to my definition of hell.
I got my John Avon signed Alara MPS lands in the post today, my rational Asian cheapo strongly advised against buying them in the first place but I really couldn't resist. I even got to communicate with the man via email, fulfilling some sort of nerdcore fantasy I suppose. Not that I went crazy with the complements and use of netspeak - I was far too self conscious to do that.
I should really take better care of my money, especially when I'm too busy studying to work a proper job that wasn't described in "Gangs of Oz". In the meantime though I'm still waiting for any potential windfall from the Rudd government to reach my bank account so that I can purchase this little item. Not sure if Rudd intended for all this money to go overseas like that though.
For those not in the know, this is a toaster with a theme based upon the Cylons from the updated version of Battlestar Galactica. In this universe they substitue all the swearing with the word 'Frak'. It also turns out they refer to the Cylons as toasters. That's an awful lot of explanation for an insider joke in a way that is guaranteed to confuse and alienate all those who can't understand why you would want your toast made with a Cylon head burnt into it. Never mind that the show is actually good and very serious in the way that the Stargate series is not (MacGyver in space?!), I just love a good space opera.
Don't know if I'd actually use it to make toast though. It looks far too pretty.
...Well at least for the few glorious moments until he holed out in the deep trying to hit another six. And don't forget he also has a perfect record as national vice captain in the T20 format. It's all upside, people!
Sometimes I feel it's my responsibility to tell the people about superior television programming. Most people have better things to do with their lives but there's no need to take that kind of tone with me, we're all friends here after all.
As part of my commitment to late night cult shows, I stumbled upon 30 Rock a couple of years ago and it has become what some refer to as appointment television. The following clip is one of the many reasons I love this show... Alec Baldwin is suburb in this scene.
The 3rd season has just started so catch it if you can. Until next time, don't order the largest meal on the menu at the Pancake Parlour and follow up with a Super Sundae, even if you are sharing with four other people.
Time to get this picture framed and hung on my wall, just like Lemon.
I was saddened to read that 'Get This' collaborator Richard Marsland passed away Saturday night. Details are fairly vague at this point from where I am, but either way it is a huge loss for Australian comedy and radio. Obituaries aren't exactly my speciality, but his work was certainly worth looking out for in the bits he wrote for Rove and Newstopia, he certainly had a very bright future ahead of him.
This blog post is brought to you today by the Time Life "80s Music Explosion" compilation starring Belinda Carlisle and that other guy in a suit. If you missed it catch it late weeknights on Ten. Or if the new free to air alliance Freeview is to be believed, on every single one of the 15 channels available to us in the new year. Imagine that, 15 channels of wall to wall late night home shopping on the television. Perhaps I will buy that steam cleaner I've never wanted.
I only mention this because I found myself watching the promotional infomercial in question and for some odd perverse reason found myself enjoying those 80s hits cascading across my screen. I would chalk this one up to the time of day and my perhaps mentally incapacitated state at said time, but it can't be all that - there must be something horribly wrong with me... I'm not sure what the cure for taste in bad 80s music is, it might lead to Clockwork Orange style reprogramming sessions where I end up in spasms every time I hear "Like To Get To Know You Well" by Howard Jones. Oh hold on, I already do that. Curse this medication.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of becoming accustomed to a dodgy late night television advertorial is the fact that I visited the Time Life website as part of a follow up for this post. Frankly I shouldn't be surprised that such a site exists as this will give them the opportunity to bombard me with out of copyright material both online and on TV. Even more disturbingly there are six ratings for this product, meaning at least six people have no knowledge of the internet and how to acquire music from it.
Oh and before I leave you with that nice thought, it has come to my attention that people have been pancaking without my presence. I imagine this is how it feels to be cheated on, so is this the time where I act like a jilted lover and play "(I Just) Died in your Arms" by Cutting Crew while sobbing over the onion soup I'm preparing? Hey, that's conveniently on that Time Life 80s compilation! I'd make an insensitive Brett Lee comment but I'm paranoid that he'll track me down in his giant bouncing ball and pound me to death on the pavement.
Tonight on the platform after class, I had yet another encounter with one of those super religious Latter Day Churchers. Normally I wouldn't complain but this is the 3rd one I've spoken to in the last four years, and more worryingly the last two were only a few months apart. I must really be their type. I imagine it has to do with the fact that I try to stand clear of most other people on the platform making me easier to single out and harass. If I want to act like a loner, why not leave me be? Their particular version of Jesus can't possibly be that better than the others, can it? Perhaps this version offers eternal afterlife and an Xbox 360 to boot. No games included though, that's where they get you.
The stations put a lot of good stuff up late, stuff people with 'mainstream' tastes tend to miss, such as 30 Rock, Boston Legal, Good Game and Newstopia. However, they also put on a lot of crap at this time too. If you can't get enough of Mariah Carey this moment they're showing Glitter, not to be confused with Holiday in Cambodia: The Gary Glitter Story. Seems like her life is so real it hurts, though if you're having a film made about your life why bother hiring someone to do it for you when you can do it yourself? I suppose that makes sense in theory, acting ability and expression notwithstanding.
Unfortunately I haven't been able to bombard your computer monitors with my imitable brand of crapping on as of late, there are far too many assignments due for uni and never enough time. Semester just seems to fly by quicker and quicker each year, must be that age thing going on again. Falling into routine never seemed so dangerous really. Before you know it several items are due at once and you wish you had a Time Vault combo to sort things out. I have been preparing in a strange kind of way though, I've been going to bed later so I become fully acclimatised once the all nighters kick in the next week or two. That's partially why I'm typing this at what is currently half past one in the morning. As long as I'm not conscripted into flying a plane for Qantas or assassinate the members of PCD, what could possibly go wrong?
This semester I've taken to dedicating Thursdays working on my design projects up at Union House, aka Onion House to some. It really hurts that my studio that day is on at 6pm, and the fact I have no other classes that day drives the stake in just that little bit further. But I manage to make the most of it by doing my work in the company of friends who drop in and out over the course of the day. On days like these I spend practically the entire day in Union, planting my arse on my seat of choice right next to the power socket. That's right, I have a favourite power point. Its' name is Howard.
How very profoundly saddening.
Okay, so I made that bit up but the change of location away from the Home Building known as Archi is an invigorating one so to speak. I could easily spend the entire day in the Archi labs and indeed I have gone through long stretches cooped up hammering out a project without distractions. But in that case I wouldn't be able to have 'Party All The Time' YouTube parties or scar myself for life by watching that cursed Marky Mark video. I wouldn't be able to speculate on what kind of pornographic material could be stored on the old school HDDs totalling a whopping 5MB of memory. (The answer according to X is ASCII porn. Hilariously stupid, yet strangely sensical.) So although I may seem to be there all day long (cos I am) sitting there at my laptop until I lose all feeling in my legs and arse working on some neverending project, it seems worth it.
Speaking of cryptic titles, Mel Gibson reportedly turned down an opportunity to star in Lethal Weapon 5. After fighting apartheid South Africans and Chinese triads, would the next logical step be to fight overzealous drunken folk with an irrational grudge against Jewish people? Oh wait, never mind.
Before I begin my endless ranting for today, I just want to give a special thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday today. It means a lot that people care enough to take some time out to wish you well. A special shout out to my evil 'twin' Brad, sharing birthdays with Pompey, Nelson and MacGyver can't be all that bad. However the rest of you can go and get... yourself some ice cream, as you should use any excuse to have some. Smooth, eh?
Another year, another round of discovering new ways to waste an afternoon. Unfortunately this year I spent it catching up on assignments I should've been doing during the first week of midsems, but the way I see it there's no real point doing things early as the motivation just isn't there. Personally I blame card games for this... waiting until the last possible moment to play your hand doesn't always translate into real life.
The other day I was combing my fingers through my hair, (as I refuse to pay the bigwigs in the comb industry) when I noticed something kind of disturbing in the undergrowth. A speck of colour, something existing in stark contrast with the world around it. A rogue element that must be destroyed.
Yes, a white hair.
I guess it's still one hair in a million but it did really spook me out for a second or two. And for some reason it triggered a miniature quarter life crisis fuelled by some sort of question of my mortality. The first thing that came to mind was The Seven Signs of Aging by none other than the Ponds Institute. However, the actual seven signs are quite boring and are mostly related to skin quality. I have endevoured to create a replacement set of signs that cannot be masked by thirty-seven tonnes of makeup. Enjoy.
- Are you dead? (If 'yes', please proceed to Question 7)
As the legal definition of the term 'alive' comes under attack by the morbidly obese, freshly defrosted icemen (thanks, global warming!) and the undead Zombie Gardeners of Ivanhoe, this question will become more and more difficult to answer. - Have you still as active as you were five years ago?
Unfortunately that answer is a resounding 'no', damnit a couple of months ago I managed to strain my hamstring getting out of bed... in the region I prefer to refer to as the 'Shane Watsons'. Epic Fail. Too bad telling a doctor you pulled your Shane Watson sounds kinda weird and wrong. - Are you currently a client of the Shane Warne 'Yeah Yeah' Corporation?
Not just yet, but I have attempted to use a waffle iron to get rid of my singleton white hair. The problem still persists, but on the upside I now smell like maple syrup and rhubarb. Lovely. - Do you refer to phrases used by the generation below you to stay cool and 'with it'?
That mostly depends on whether netspeak is an invention of our generation or theirs. I have noticed that using the Mark Holden method of using old sporting phrases to create random punchlines seems to transcend generations, with Kyle Sandilands hijacking the catchcry for his own nefarious purposes. I hereby propose we use the 'free kick' signal used in the AFL to signify really bad moves on behalf of the greater populace. - Do you resent the spoiled youths of today and their rowdy rebellious ways which could easily be solved by a good caning?
Hmm not sure about this one. I remember being in high school and wondering out loud how the Year 7s could somehow manage to get progressively dumber and dumber with each passing year though. Must be something in the water, or else someone's been drinking that tainted Chinese baby milk powder for longer than they might think. - Are you a member of the Catholic Church clergy?
Last time I checked, the next in line to the Pope isn't exactly a spring chicken. Career advancement is a plotted in fairly linear single minded one really - Step One: Wait for current pope to depart, Step Two: Rig ballot and become Pope. The only other waiting line comparable in length is possibly membership to the Melbourne Cricket Club. - Are you Eddie Murphy's recording career?
Well that's hardly fair! If 'Party All The Time' can get airplay at my neighbour's daughter's 18th birthday, I would like to think that Murphy can party any time he wants. Just keep him away from anything remotely female.
Until next time, I'll leave you with the song that's been in my head for best part of the night. No, it's not 'Party All The Time', I'll save that for some other time. It's a track by End of Fashion, a band from Perth with 'Fussy'. The video itself is taken from the viewpoint of one person in a very sticky situation. The accompanying single 'Kamikaze' takes the same situation but from the perspective of the other person. Very weird stuff, but strangely watchable.
With an intro like that, I could host my very own radio show.
While I sit here and do the opposite of homework and assignments, here is a video from one of my favourite sketch shows right now - 'That Mitchell and Webb Look', which finished its run on ABC1 tonight. The premise involves a pair of lazy screenwriters who can't be bothered researching their subject matter and decide to write a sports movie about cricket.
Quotes from this sketch compile just one of the many random catchphrases we use at uni right now. Mystifyingly the previous week has seen us chant the jingle from Wolter's "Steel and Mesh" radio advert, as well as the jingle from the Blind Factory. But of course, nothing really beats the joy of impersonating the stoners from the Pancake Parlour. Mmm... the rhubarb...
But seriously, any organisation that chooses to represent itself via drug addled personalities are alright with me. There's even a pair of Facebook groups dedicated to them. One group happens to love them and the other predictibly doesn't care too much for them. Unfortunately for us radio stoner fans, the hate group currently outnumbers the love group by about 40 or so members. So support a stoner today by joining a stoner appreciation society.
On that note, one more blind rant before I disappear into the night. Why would anyone think that a movie about Facebook would be a good idea? The story of how Mark Zuckerberg founded a new way to waste our waking hours with requests to buy and sell your best friends into slavery, divide us into warring factions of pirates and ninjas (seriously ninjas would win hands down, you would never see or hear them coming, plus pirates smell and don't all look like Johnny Depp. Just a heads up there, girls.) or bombard you with random conversations between people you don't care about on your wall. I can see where this market would lie.
Facebook: The Movie sounds as ridiculous as past rumours about some studio picking up the rights to option Hasbro's IP for potential projects such as Monopoly: The Movie... a high rolling story about one mustashioed man and his quest to rule The Boardwalk and all the "Get Out Of Jail Free" cards. They'd still have to explain how a rounding middle aged man in a top hat could win a beauty contest. Having said that, I wouldn't mind seeing the life and times of those Hungry Hungry Hippos. Is their insatiable appetite born out of an eating disorder derived from low self esteem and a means of escaping from reality? It would really suit Russell Crowe in his pursuit of another Oscar, that's for sure.
Or even worse, Hasbro currently owns Wizards of the Coast which can only mean one thing... Magic: The Gathering: The Movie?
From an exchange over MSN the other night, a game with endless replay value and destined to be fun for all the family:
X: # Vintage tournaments (see Rule 801) have restricted this card since 1999/04/01.
# Legacy tournaments (see Rule 802) have banned this card since 1999/04/01.
# Extended tournaments (see Rule 803) have banned this card since 1999/07/01.
# Standard (Type 2) tournaments (see Rule 804) have banned this card since 1999/04/01.
# Urza Block Constructed tournaments (see Rule 806.6) have banned this card si
X: since 1999/04/01.
Me: lol the obvious candidates r gone
X: orly?
Me: one must've slipped my mind lol
X: common
Me: i know it's full of brokenness
X: its easy!!!!
Me: lol... will?
X: uh
X: no
Me: not yawgmoth's will? hmmm...
X: nope
Me: haha monolith?
X: nope
Me: key?
X: nope
Me: am i even in the right zone?
X: not at all
X: do you want a hint?
X: its a sorcery
Me: hmm
X: it has some moons in the picture
X: and lightning
X: at least i think its lightning
Me: lol
Me: damn i was gonna go for windfall
X: lol
Me: begin again...
X: thats broken
Me: it's all broken
Me: it's saga
X: you get 1 point
X: cause its pretty broken too
Me: hehehe
X: but common
X: theres 1 more sorcery
X: the one that rules them all
Me: tinker?
X: nah
X: another point
Me: lol
X: for another broken card
Me: getting there...
Me: time spiral?
X: correct!
Me: lol
X: here that sound?
X: its the sound of the game snapping in half
*SNAP*
In a completely unrelated incident, Rickrolling took another step to outstaying its welcome (if it hasn't already) when someone synced words from speeches by presidential hopeful Barack Obama with the now famous song. It does get tired real quick but it's kinda fun the first time you watch it.
Why is Ellen DeGeneres always dancing on that show of hers?
Some families have special days out to places like the beach or the fairground, you know, something to do as a family unit that we will treasure forever and perhaps someday tell our kids, or someone else's, I'm not too fussed. But not my family. Our idea of a family outing (Not that kind of outing, though that would be interesting depending on what you accuse them of. My personal favourite is witchcraft - you can use the pyre for a good barbecue afterwards.) comes in the forms of trips to the dentist. I suppose it makes life a bit easier if we all just got our annual checkups over and done with in one shot, but it is really overkill to make it a family event of discomfort and potential pain. Coincidentally this is not unlike the experience of watching an episode of Gunther's ER on SBS or being forced to sit through four consecutive screenings of Two and a Half Men reruns that have accumulated on your hard disk recorder because your dad insists on watching it at a later date. Delete them already!
Okay, now to stop my whinging for now, for I have no real reason to. For my teeth are the best in the land as far as I'm concerned. Despite the obvious beatings I will endure after she reads this, the dentist did comment that I have much 'better teeth than my sister'. So I did the only thing a sensible person in my position could do - walk out of the room with the biggest grin on my face. I continued this pattern of stupidity for the rest of the day, winning arguments simply by flashing a grin. Must remind myself to buy a mouthguard for future encounters, lest I wake up in the middle of the night with a cricket bat in my mouth.
I firmly believe the secret to good dental health lies not just in regular brushing and rinsing habits, but being scared into the entire routine at an early age. I have vague memories of the mobile dentistry showcase coming to my primary school in Year Two like some sort of mobile torture roadshow here to make your afternoon miserable. Apart from that, you would have to factor in the competency, patience and sobriety of the dentist. Going through a hundred prep aged kids probably isn't the best way to relax, and at that age you really wonder if that drill could take out a good chunk of your cheek. Fortunately I have no such problems now as I breeze through checkup time and come out smiling as if it were a competition. As they say, winners are grinners. Or is it the other way round?
But of course karma, the great equaliser struck back when I was promptly crushed by a falling piano outside the dental clinic.
Well I sort of lied about that one. But having your football team lose to your sister's football team falls within the same area of concern. Is this the point where I lose all faith in humanity? Is there a black hole waiting for me the moment I get up off the couch? Oh that's right, it's just a game. But what a hurtful one it is.
Just a quick note to say that semester one is over. Thank freak for that... you know something isn't right when it's 2 in the morning and you don't need sleep and instead feel compelled to work on your project a little more. I had final presentation today, I'll post more on that a little later once I reacquaint myself with the sleeping patterns of a regular person. Strangely that involves me adapting the sleeping patterns of Mike Goldman, who only emerges twice a year to host Big Brother and Meerkat Manor. (I am convinced that the only reason he remains on BB is to prevent him from making any further seasons of Meerkat Manor. Time will tell.)
Looks like it's time for a back to front story where flashbacks are provided for no particular reason than to annoy the audience. If JJ Abrams can use the same trick on Alias and Lost, surely I can have a shot too. And here we go... "By the time I got home on Friday night, I had been awake for only 21 hours. I would've stretched it out for another three for dramatic effect, but I imagine that's not such a great idea..."
39 hours earlier - Thursday morning, 11am
Caught up with Keyur for lunch. Forgot to ask him about his trip to the SPC factory. Mental note for next week.
38 hours earlier - Thursday afternoon, 12pm
Decide to finish off sketches for design class at Union House (or as Josh calls it, Onion House) where all my card playing friends are. Fortunately they're already stuck into a game of 500 so I don't get sucked in. I'm pretty awful at it anyways, it makes me feel less of an Asian. If only there was a solution for it that was as simple as downing a can of Solo. I guess the Asian equivalent is something from the Bubble Cup.
36 hours earlier - 2pm
Sit through mind numbingly confusing Theories of Architecture tute. Something about the interiority of architecture. Thoughts turn to self defenestration.
35 hours earlier - 3pm
Sit in computer lab for the next three hours drawing up my design. I had done most of the backdrops at home but I didn't have the programs to finish it of there. It really makes me think more about getting a new laptop, I almost finished most of the drawing the night before but the lack of a certain program made me run into a brick wall. On the upside there aren't half as many distractions in the computer lab so I did manage to get a lot of it done. No procrastination zone is in effect here.
31 hours earlier - Thursday night, 7pm
Get home, have dinner only to realise I am no longer in the non-procrastination zone and proceed to waste the next hour checking my RSS feeds for nothing in particular. They build up so quickly that it becomes a bit compulsive to sift through.
24 hours earlier - Friday morning, 2am
I arrested my stuffing around at about 9 and cleaned up all the loose ends with my drawings. I should probably explain what it is I'm doing. The brief is for a ferry terminal down at Federation Walk by the Yarra, right next to Fed Square and across the road from Flinders Street Station. There is no real limitation on the scale of the entire thing, but I assumed this would be a little shelter for people waiting for the ferry as part of the greater public transport network so I went about with that scale in mind.
We only had a week for the design so I just went with the first thing that comes to mind which these days tends to lean towards organic, nature inspired forms. This one came about as a gentle swell of current washing upon the shore. I was afraid it might look a bit too aggressive and come across as a tidal wave coming to destroy us all, but I think I kinda got away with it by stretching it out.
One other thing to note is that I put some benches under the shelter running in the same fashion as the structure just to run the theme home. Building them over each of the existing docking areas gives a sense of repetition you would see of a series of waves sweeping along.
21 hours earlier - 5am
I conk out at 2, stressed out by the difficulty of building the physical model. I really set myself up for these things when there are so few straight lines in the entire proposal, so I really have myself to blame. When I regroup after three wholesome hours of sleep, I am able to concentrate a lot more on what the hell is going on and fortunately I am able to put it all together by 7am.
16 hours earlier - 10am
We all line up our work in the Atrium of the supposedly asbestos infested splendour of the Archi building to pin up our work "So You Think You Can Design A Ferry Terminal?" or as I like to call it, SYTYCDAFT. Just rolls off the tongue, that one.
Designs of all sorts litter the boards and it's certainly fascinating seeing how people have gone about it all. Strangely I don't feel all that tired when it gets to my project, the adrenaline from the nerves is doing its job well. I manage to get through it fairly unscathed with only a couple of minor criticisms coming my way, with my half arsed presentation layout letting me down somewhat. But otherwise I think I did alright for a short exercise like this.
13 hours earlier - Friday afternoon, 1pm
A solid day of studios is broken up by a midday lecture in what has to be described as the most uncomfortable lecture theatre on campus, the Baldwin Spencer Building theatre. I swear it was designed for midgets or something.
9 hours earlier - Friday evening, 5pm
I hang back in the Rowden White library (gotta get the most out of my $200 union membership somehow) for a bit after class to look up a copy of Shaun Micallef's 'Smithereens' which is sadly so out of print I cannot find myself a copy. Shaun's writing and sense of humour is ridiculously random which is exactly why I'll watch almost anything he's involved in.
7 hours earlier - 7pm
I bum around the city for a bit like the proverbial while waiting for Kavi to pick me up to go to Harry's place for a night of food, booze and poker with some of my Property & Construction friends from uni. It's a bit odd with our timetables that we rarely see each other during uni so this is something I've been looking forward to all day.
I manage to scrounge a cheapo BoP from Dungeon of all places, I'm still checking it for forgeries. Walking back up Swanston, the cold change the weathermen have been promising for so long finally shows up. Maybe it's time they took large chunks of ice from the Antarctic and put them on city blocks so we could all cool down. I blame Adelaide for this awful heat wave.
6 hours earlier - 8pm
Kavi has been driving for a month and a bit so I quietly start writing my last will and testament. But seriously, his driving is as good as anyone else's. I play navigator but he supplies me with a giant version of the Melways more suited for the blind. The damned thing is as heavy as the encyclopaedia and turning pages is awkward when I have to reach across the centre console. We get there half an hour early only to find Harry's on his way back so we decide to order food early but get lost as none of us remember the way. Roads in Doncaster/Balwyn are a pain to navigate.
5 hours earlier - 9pm
The catching up is cool. Losing to a straight on the river isn't much so. Oh well, that's what you get for trying to muscle people around by going all in. I blame my extended operating hours for such a lapse in concentration but all in all I had a pretty good time. Playing four different types of poker at once is puzzling to say the least unless you've forgotten the name of one of them and end up referring to it as "ice cream!!" Lots of stupid stories and inside jokes about contract management are exchanged during this time. I know what you're thinking. It's a lot less cool than it sounds.
0 hours earlier - Saturday morning, 2am
We depart at about half past one and I manage to somehow guide Kavi to my place with his giant atlas of suburban Melbourne. I keep reminding him I am not too far from certain fatigue and will endanger us both if I don't take a power nap soon by directing us into a creek somewhere. Now yet another person knows where I live which is particularly dangerous for me as more and more people are able to threaten me with that exact line. I'm too tired to worry about details like that though and thus we end up in the "present".
Join me some other time when I don't have all nighters to pull where I attempt to backtrack on the last month and a bit of mobile phone pics. It'll be as bad as you think.
Just a quick one for today. I don't normally outsource my brutish college brand of humour but this one really made me laugh. The day you see Say Something written with a Punjabi slant on current events is the day it's all over.
Of course you have to actually know the song for it to make any sense and the MS Office stylings are a bit cheap, but I love a good pie chart gag once in a while. This love is only exceeded by my affinity for Venn diagram jokes.
In other news, Brett Lee managed to snare the Allan Border Medal from the hands of the anti Indian Hayden and Ponting (hey, that wasn't written by me...!) in what my dad might describe as being a "disapponting" year for the two of them ("BOING"... that was definitely not me). In celebration, let us all sing the anthem I was performed many times in the past and will now share with you, the reader.
BRETT LEEEE!!!!
BRETT LEEEE!!!!
Brett Lee was a man
I mean, he was a bowlin' man
Or maybe he was just a bowler
But he was still BRETT LEE!
BRETT LEE!
Bowlinating the countryside
Bowlinating the peasants
Bowlinating all the peoples
In the thatched-roof COTTAGES! THATCHED-ROOF COTTAGES!
When the English line-up is in ruin
And bowlination makes them cry in their sleep
Only one guy will remain
My money's on
BRETT LEE!
BRETT LEE!
And the Brett Lee comes in the NIIIIIGHT!
So really the song comes down to:
BRETT LEEEE!!!!
BRETT LEEEE!!!!
Bowlinating the countryside
Bowlinating the peasants
Bowlinating all the peoples
And the Brett Lee comes in the NIIIIIGHT!
I for one think it's better off this way.
PS: I was watching "Ice Princess" the other night for some reason. The family was watching that while I was squinting trying to watch Top Gear in the Picture-In-Picture. No dice. Apart from being a Disney production, I was surprised to see it starred The Key from Buffy being best friends with the cheerleader from Heroes whose mother happened to be Kim Cattrall. I sat there in amazement thinking this must have been the first role for Cattrall in a while where the plot didn't involve her trying to have sex with everyone/thing in sight. She was trying to screw Trachtenberg's character over at one point though, does that count?
PPS: I just finished reading the original "I Am Legend" after having to wait two months for it to show up at the library only to have the family dawdle about with it for the first two and a half weeks and forcing it upon me with four days to go before it was due back. It's quite popular right now for obvious reasons but I'm sure most people will be disappointed (or should I say disapponted, "kerching!") to find out the book is nothing like the movie. The movie manages to do a decent job of it, with many of the plots altered slightly to either suit modern times or for various other movie reasons. I would've liked to have seen a movie loyal to the original storyline, but I'm not too fussed I guess. Will Smith does own the role good though the ending was crapola.
Haha, fooled you into thinking this wouldn't take long! Now you've wasted five minutes you're never getting back*!
*Refunds of time will be honoured if possible upon presentation of coupon and depending on how you plan on wasting my time. No talk of how reality TV gets better and better each year please. I will throttle you myself.
Here's a rundown of what my Friday and Saturday consisted of.
Friday - 6.30pm
Get off work and jump on the train to Eltham. Allegedly perform Jedi Mind Trick on ticket inspector by showing him a Zone 1 ticket at Montmorency. Of course just typing it doesn't make it real in case of libel, but they really should find a better way of policing fare evasion which doesn't involve assuming people are awful criminals. You know, guys like me (if indeed I did do it...)
7.30
Arrive at Eltham station and jump into Marcus' car to find out Sri Lanka is playing like crap. Break into rendition of Marsland's "Vengabus/Charminda Vaas is coming" because I can. It's either hilarious or bewildering depending on your knowledge or sense of humour.
8.00
Arrive at Marcus' place then receive phone call from his girlfriend Eileen where her family has failed to detect a mutant kebab that had been growing in their unused oven for almost three months. Images of Resident Evil style slayings of semi sentient undead kebab men somehow conjure themselves up in my head. With an imagination like that, it's times like those that I'm most glad to be me and not some mindless git.
8.40
Actual conversation with Eileen takes this long as we have a big conference call over speaker phone, just like Jack Bauer would with the President. Tomb Raider is on and she announces some sort of liking for Angelina Jolie for no particular reason. I suppose I have no issue with that.
9.00
Around this time the Australia v Sri Lanka game is done and dusted and was very disappointing indeed. But never fear, as Marcus introduces me to the wonderful world of indoor cricket... through corridors and doorways. For the next couple of hours we barely avoid smashing priceless family heirlooms while we upgrade our hand eye coordination. Every now and then we use the door jambs to our advantage with Beckham like bends to fool Hawkeye.
11.00
One the only reasons I would shell out some hard earned for the infinite repitorium (where TV shows go to die in an endless cycle of repeats) known as cable comes on in the form of Conan O'Brian. Due to the writers' strike he fills time by giving an audience member a tour of the NBC building where they run up and down stairs a lot. It sounds a lot less interesting than it actually is. O'Brian is a champ.
Saturday - 12.00am
At some point we sit down to watch the replay of the T20 game between the Kiwis and the Poms. England is actually good for once which is a nice change of pace. We also go for another innings of household smashout and play cards for a bit until 2am or so. At this stage I've been awake for almost 20 hours and really should know better.
3.00
The cricket ends and early episodes of WPT comes on. Van Patten is in the early stages of perfecting his toolish facade. Oh wait, he was always like that. Backgammon comes on at 4am and try as I might, I will not be able to pick up the finer qualities of the game at this time of night. Some random Russian girl is playing there and happens to be less than half the average age of everyone else there, not to again mention the fact she is female. Backgammon championships are a lot like chess championships, but with fewer groupies.
6.00
My timeline is very foggy at this stage for good reason, but I think there were only two hours of backgammon. You know it'd do a lot better if it had commentary by Dennis Commetti or Vince Van Patten. I don't know of any good backgammon jokes, please send them in and explain them in 500 words or less.
Around this time more cricket comes on. This time it's the replay of last night's game and I sleep through the awfulness.
12:00pm
Awaken to uncertain morning and feel need for more cricket. No, not really but a shower took care of that. They have a a mini hourglass in the shower which helps them with water restrictions and all. I suddenly feel like the Prince of Persia in the Sands of Time where the floor of the shower cubicle opens up to plunge my awfully drenched naked body into a snake pit. Then all I'd have to do is turn the hourglass upside down and all would be well again! I continue playing Sands of Time for the next half hour, single handedly undoing all the water Marcus' family would have saved over the course of the month.
I know you didn't need all that imagery, I'm so sorry. In case you were wondering, I didn't spend all that time in the shower. I kid, I kid!
2.00
While waiting for lunch, we go to the backyard to play outdoors cricket where we can hit the ball slightly harder. Lunch comes and goes, where I forget how hot hot English mustard actually is when I put dollop upon dollop on into my burger roll. It has a certain Wasabi feel to it which clears my sinuses up good. I try not to show it but I occasionally have to take an extra drink.
3.00
Back for more cricket. A live ODI between NZ and England is on, but England have suddenly forgotten how to play 50 overs cricket and are promptly bowled out for a low total. It was so bad we decided we had to go outside and play just to prove even we are less incompetent than those stinking Poms. It's strange how much easier the ball is to his when you're not facing scoreboard pressure. It also helps that we're not trying to tear each other's heads off with each delivery.
Sunday - 2pm
By now I have been home for a fair while but the match between us and the Indians comes on the TV. I watch about 10 overs before I decide I've had enough and go upstairs for some much needed sleep. I later wake up at 7 to discover we're in deep shit anyway, so no big loss really.
And that's all from me for now. If all goes well I'll have an epic post that'll reek of effort and will hopefully muster a chuckle or two out of a couple of you. Laters, y'all!
Love stupid pointless videos with nonsensical titles? Then click here to try a little something from a documentary that screened on Seven a while back named "The Man Whose Arms Exploded". No, this is not something I've made up in order to make you click that link but a genuine programme with an awesome title. His arms weren't exactly filled with sticks of C4 or anything, he just worked out on steroids a lot.
(In case I've managed to triple post this - the embedded player fucked this site about a fair bit, but not after I failed to put the correct year into the box which sent this post flying back through time. Talk about reliving the past. The link to the video can be found here.)
In terms of backdating posts this one goes back a fair while due to obvious reasons such as my laziness when it comes to blogging. So in order to make this feel more timely, I suggest you party like its the 8th of September, 2007. I'm sure that's why Prince changed the title of his famous song from December 31st, 2000 to the far catchier and rhymable 1999... no cut-through or recall at all.
Yes, times were very different back then. I was still unemployed, and hence the explosion in useless blog posts. The economy was still in good shape (it's true - look at those interest rates), and every other half bit columnist starved for material was writing about Facebook. Ooh, look at me! I'm in my 40s and I'm on my child's friends list! How hurtful and embarrassing for him/her! Watch them squirm uncomfortably in front of their computers as I write friendly hellos on their walls! Watch them squirm some more as you talk about their friends at the dinner table! Break down those intergenerational borders for the sake of a slight chuckle? Sure, count me in! But it sure is fun and entertaining for me, all while filling up my word count for the week too! Is that too many exclamation marks for one paragraph?!
Phew, where was I? It seems all so confusing all of a sudden. Though in all seriousness, Facebook no longer has the grip it once had on me. It's pretty cool for keeping up with friends you might not otherwise be able to keep in touch with, especially those overseas in my case. But once you get over the constant checking of updated statuses and new photos from the 21st you just dragged yourself in from, there isn't as much to do afterwards. For a while the only thing keeping me there was Scrabble, and even then I needed a break from the bad habit of dictionary combing for obscure Welsh spellings that are supposedly used today. I guess I could try and set up a ten step type program to rid you of Facebook addiction by creating a group on Faceb~... oh, nevermind then. It's a bit like trying to cure alcoholism by taking someone to Oktoberfest.
Until next time, try and write about a part of your anatomy that exploded. Obvious answers will not be accepted.
You can always tell summer is approaching when the networks wheel out their second, third and Xth tier programming, where X is the level you wish to sink to on any particular evening. This would normally result in the strong stench of cheese clogging our airwaves and this year is no different.
We have shows like The Singing Bee where contestants attempt to karaoke their way through popular music. Admittedly it is pretty funny when they get it wrong, but I'm more impressed by the fact that the band has rehearsed through tens of songs for the one episode. I'd also like to know if someone has counted the number of dance routines those bee girls have. You can only gyrate in so many directions before your pelvis flies off across the stage.
Another new show I gave a shot was that National Bingo Show, in yet another reason for people to not go outside. The bingo halls must be reeling at the vacant seats formerly filled by the elderly, unemployed and various stoners. The show is minorly entertaining, and while I'm sure all the bingo cards are rigged with numbers that don't exist (pi anyone?) or are not inside that giant bingo cage, the best part of the show has to be that Commissioner Gordon, ah I mean whatshisname. (watching too much Batman does have a negative effect I'm told) His cries of 'Noooo bingo!' are probably what makes the show barely watchable in my opinion. If you too can't get enough of it, I suggest you watch this minute long clip and I guarantee you'll be cured in no time.
I haven't decided if it can be construed as being racist yet, though it is interesting to read that the original American version of Bingo Night also has an Indian commissioner, though his 'No bingo is arguably inferior that of our own local production, which you may see here if you care enough. On a quick sidenote, I think it's increasingly sad that localised versions of shows overseas are choosing to remain very much the same as their originals. The formats are protected down to the line, from the stupid black and white striped referee outfits to the choice of host. Perhaps it's a sign that cultural boundaries are starting to blur to the effect that we no longer care everything feels so Americanised.
Though not all is lost. Local productions are starting to pick up in both quantity and occasionally quality. We are still stuck with shows catering to the interests of no one in particular like The Wedge and Comedy Inc. - The Late Shift. Annoyances like Surprise Surprise Gotcha, the only show on TV inspired by a man who uses prank calls as his main gimmick on FM radio, are bound to fail once people realise they have better things to do with their time like shove their remaining limbs into a meat mincer (and that Punk'd probably does it better... if you like that kind of show).
To balance the crappiness of it all, we now have comic saviours in the form of the Chaser and Shaun Micallef. Now everyone knows about the Chaser and their tricks but Newstopia is something different entirely. A half hour take on the week in news done in a way only Micallef could, this is a show that can vary from randomist one liners to truly inspired sketches. It's great to have someone like Micallef back on TV after all this time. The scheduling isn't bad, I can see how they have chosen to ride off the back of the Chaser on Wednesday nights but it'd be nice to have it at a more accessible time. Still, no point complaining.
Not all imported TV is rubbish though, there are certain gems here and there that often get shunted into late evening slots due to their perceived edginess or cult status. A prime example of this is The Sopranos, which wraps up on Nine this week. Understandably it has been difficult for it to gain a mainstream following here given its content, but it really does deserve more attention than it has. It has some of the best dialogue paired with wonderful acting from the ensemble cast, as well as this following death scene from this week's finale as an incentive (or otherwise) for you to watch. This is one of the best whackings I've seen since the show started, and it couldn't happen to a better character... I'm not being sadistic though, so don't go sending me abusive letters like you usually do. If you have ever followed the show you'll know what I mean.
That's about as much television I can dissect for one sitting, so you'll all have to wait until there's enough crap on the tube for me to whinge about. I'm sure it won't take too long...
My blogging laziness has been fairly obvious as of late. I'm not sure why, but perhaps I just needed a break from sitting in front of the keyboard typing away when I already do that at work. On some days I can barely stand to sit in front of a computer for more than half an hour before I feel the need to be doing something else. Hopefully this is just a side effect of adjusting to my new job, which is going as well as I hoped it could be. Luck has brought me this far, now the rest is up to me I guess.
A couple of weeks ago I was randomly looking at crap and stumbled upon that awesome clip of Jackie Chan in all that gear from Street Fighter. I'm not completely sure where the inspiration to do such a scene came from, but it's definitely a classic the entire family can enjoy, providing they actually know what Street Fighter is (providing they're not referring to that awful flick with Jean-Claude Van Damme: the poor man's Schwarzenegger, the apprentice to the Stallones out there, but just enough class to outact Steven Seagal's ponytail). I'm not sure if the youths of today can appreciate the majesty of unleashing a 26 hit combo. Well anyway, enjoy the clip, even if it is horribly dubbed in English. I couldn't be arsed finding the Canto version, but oh well. Enjoy.
I can't help but wonder what led Chan into doing so many useless films later on in his career. Of course I am referring to the series of flicks he made in Hollywood. I'm sure collectors will remember the superb aspect ratio of The Tuxedo, or the fine camera work from Rush Hour 3. I haven't seen that one but I can sense the bottom of a barrel being scraped in the background. If only he could bring back the good old days of crazy martial arts stunts. He might be a bit too old for that though. All that jumping.
The most interesting part about this is when even Chan himself claimed the Rush Hour films were a load of junk. Personally I thought the first one was fairly entertaining and managed to be pretty funny (though it was released in 1998 so I assume my taste in movies and sophistication in humour was nowhere near what it is now... cue fart joke here please and supply your own sound effects). I've yet to see the third one so I might have to hold back on my usual harshness for now, but after seeing the second one it never really occurred to me I would be itching to see a third.
In the meantime join me as I take out my cultural outrage by watching and imitating the judges on Idol and rambling on senselessly in a fashion only Darryl Somers could. He may not make any sense at all but he sure knows how to pad a 47 minute program out to five hours, and you can't possibly get bored because he never seems to run out of stupid useless things to say. It's not my fault, you have to amuse yourself somehow when you're forced to watch tripe like that over dinner. Mmm, tripe....
The subject of today's pointless ramble is that of the celebrity endorsement. Everyone understands the concept. If a well known personality puts their weight behind a product, then chances are it won't kill or maim you horribly.
One of my favourite ones as of late is the campaign where tennis legends Todd Woodbridge and Mark Woodforde use the Woodies brand name to promote the brand of Flora Pro-Activ. Normally I wouldn't have a problem with it, after all everyone needs a little grease in their lives. But this advert contains very unusual scripting.
For those who really can't be bothered clicking the link above. For shame...(The original ad can still be seen here for now)
Well really if you think about it, on the law of averages it'd have to be either you or Mark, I'm afraid. I like to think that being one half of the Woodies would provide you with many other advantages besides perceived resistance to cholesterol. The ability to accept moderate sums of money to appear in poorly thought out marketing campaigns comes to mind. Or perhaps some sort of personal cloaking field to avoid being known as an unscrupulous margarine salesman while walking down the street.
The website has its own blog section in which advertising executives pretend to be the Woodies and make them say silly things like "I must admit, at first I thought it would be hard to incorporate the 25g of Flora pro-activ into my daily diet, but so far its been quite easy!" Suddenly Todd goes overkill and his breakfast toast becomes cocooned in a thick coating of margarine. Personally I find that meals become a lot more fun when you have to guess what you're being served underneath a layer of processed fats. More often than not they turn out to be Brussels sprouts, the most hated vegetable in the entire universe. Though if you were stuck for ideas I guess you could eat it straight out of the tub, but somehow I don't think Todd would approve.
All this talk of grease suddenly brings me back to my extra super cool Bacon Spray (expected to hit a dinner plate near you in 2014... watch those shelves) and another excellent 'idea' for a product Marcus and I brainstormed a few weeks ago. I think it's time for me to put on my dodgy car salesmanship voice - channel the sleaziness of 21 generations of motoring reps from the local graveyard and away we go...
Hey you, yes you! Sick and tired of storing putrid waste with your innards like a loser? Had a gutful of tedious trips to public toilets where your sanity (IE the super incorrectly stated state of being sanitised) cannot be guaranteed not once, not twice but often thrice a day? Would you rather use this valuable time for far more important tasks like watching football on TV or umm, watching more football on TV?
Well fear not, cos the good folks at Illogical Enterprises have come up with the solution to all your wasteful needs! Introducing the all new Portable Colostomiser* (PC) which comes in all shapes and sizes to cater for the modern man too busy to give a shit. The waterworks fit easily and unobtrusively under clothing, making it undetectable to the casual observer.
The PC comes in three sizes depending on your needs. A simple backpack can be fitted out where other things such as books and pens can be stored away, making it doubly as practical. For the ladies where appearance is everything, a handbag sized option is available allowing you to relax freely for a night on the town. No need to worry about lining up for the ladies' room anymore, the PC will store all the crap for you.
For those with extra storage needs, an extra large version is available ("Mockup" here). This model has enough storage space for even the most extremely gastronomically proportioned individuals. But that's not all. This special edition comes with its very own disposal hose for emergencies. The hose is equipped with a high pressure nozzle that allows for quick efficient disposal, which is of great benefit to a backyard in desperate need of nutrients and moisture especially given the drought afflicting our nation.
So don't just sit there on the can putting all that liquid gold to waste, make an improvement to your life and the environment by buying the Portable Colostimiser today!
Well really when you put it that way, I'm not sure how I could refuse. Though the benefits of the PC is clear for all to see, it did not take long for my mind to come up with less than savoury uses for this little device. In the wrong hands someone with a fully loaded PC full of crap (must be all that spyware) could easily go postal and give pedestrians on a busy city block something to dodge while grabbing their morning coffees. I eagerly look forward to the day I flog this invention on the New Inventors and give Jimmy O a good hosing down like the effluent person he probably is. Allegedly.
"And so I point the nozzle right in my face and press the big red button?", James said as I looked on with an evil grin on my face.
And thus brings us to the end of another of the many posts on the Net founded upon toilet humour. I'm not sure if you deserve this kind of content... after all, as one half of the Woodies, you never thought you would end up reading about shit like this.
*Oh, and I know the bag is technically called an Ostomy Bag, but that would ruin my lousy PC pun. Never allow the truth to get in the way of a poorly constructed joke, that's what I always say.