I seem to recall...

A movie, either The Kentucky Fried Movie, or Amazon Women on the Moon, or something similar.

My memory might be faulty, but I also recall a spoof TV series from one of those movies, along the lines of "Believe it or Not" and the like

A host, possibly Jack Palance, delivers a fantastic tale of the supernatural as though it were real, then challenges the viewer: "BULLSHIT? ... or NOT!" Or something like that.

STUFF : ENTERTAINMENT : BOOKS - STORY : New Zealand's leading news and information website: "Spooked Meeuws flees ghost-house"

Anyway, Kees might consider taking up dancing lessons.

Actually, one of those movies had the funniest sketch - a young lad in a small town trying to buy condoms from a pharmacist who knows his family. WHen he finally plucks up the courage to ask for the items, the pharmacist looks at him disapprovingly, then announces that he is the millionth customer, brass bands march in, and he's on national TV live.

And don't make me have to mention Big Jim Slade...

Suggestions for a present for my mum...

I'm banking she's too busy this week to read this... yes, apparently she comes here sometimes... bit confused I understand about the street preacher. (Who, by the way, I hear is stranded in Bali, after losing his boogie board bag to the woman in front of him at customs.)

So she's retired, reckons she needs to find things to keep her occupied (you wouldn't believe what she gets up to to achieve that).

So I had this off the wall idea - computer software - a game perhaps. I considered something along the lines of Sim City, then she could race the City Council to build Transmission Gully... or something. But I'm not so sure now...

I suspect Lara Croft, or Grand Theft Auto might not be her bag. But if I'm wrong, there's always Christmas coming.

So any great suggestions?

Park Bench Memorials

The Botanic Gardens have dozens of park benches, many of them sport a plaque in the memory of a loved one.

I sometimes joke that I spend my walk time memorising which bench is in memory of whom. They're usually dedicated to someone who led a very long & full life, who died some years ago. I'm considering dedicating one to Wilma the Wonder Labby (Wilma of Woburn, to use her formal name), when she passes on to that great Magpie Lawn in the sky - hopefully a good number of years from now...

And so it was disconcerting to find one dedicated to someone I knew, who did lead a full life, but sadly not as long as she should have. Someone I didn't even know was sick until I read the death notice in the paper. But that was the way she wanted it, apparently.

Guys... if you're reading this & want to go have a look, it's at the Southern end of the Soundshell Lawn, near the Fragrant Garden & overlooked by the Treehouse Centre.

Starjacking

Been having a few conversations with various people recently about 1) How to make some quick real money and 2) who'd win a prison bitch fight between Russell Crowe & Michael Jackson.

Since it seems Michael's not going to jail now, number 2 is moot. And Russell won't either because he'll settle out of court with the alleged victim.

Which brings me back to number 1. I figure the best & easiest way to make some real money these days, is to somehow get yourself next to Russell Crowe - in a pub might be best, but a hotel lobby seems to work too - and somehow slip into the conversation that you think he's a pussy. And that's it, sit back & accept the tabloid payments & out of court settlement. The deal could be cemented if you can arrange for a mate to video the grand occasion. Go Russ! Sure, there might be a bit of pain & humiliation involved, but it's more selfless than having your kids stay over at Neverland for the same effect.

In fact, I predict that this approach will become an up & coming, genuine profession. David Slack has given that profession a name - Starjacking. And I have already told him that I'll be blogjacking that term. So it seems fair to give credit.

I hope the term catches on.

BTW David: I saw somewhere recently, but haven't time to find it this morning, that the Washington Post also predict celebrity rehabilitation centres. And for the record, I think Jackson might be in with a chance, he's fit, limber, possibly has a mean streak, and as you point out, how many fights has Russ won off the big screen?

But as mentioned, I think Martha could take 'em both.

And one from SunnyO

Photos from Kelburn again...

A lot of people who look like potatoes on the streets today...

So it's started then. The Barmy Army have arrived in town...

And here is your key to surviving the onslaught...

A great idea that I probably won't put into practise...

SO why mention it then? Because it's a great idea!

I saw this movie once... a short film in a programme of avante garde short films. can't remember what it was called, nor who directed it.

but anyway, it was a series of photographs, landscapes, people, places, kind of like holiday snaps.

And there was a narrator talking about the photos. But thing was, what he was talking about bore no resemblance to the photo on screen.

And then something weird happened to the photo & it bubbled, so it resembled pizza, and then broke apart. And then the next photo came on.

And halfway through, it dawned on me. The narration & photos were out of sync, I can't remember if he was talking about the photo that had just been, or was to come. But suddenly the whole concept, and narration became very, very funny. It was the way it was done.

Also, the bubbling was because he'd filmed a frame stuck in the projector until it melted.

Anyway, I just thought wouldn't it be cool to blog a post & put pictures from the next post to come in, and keep doing that...

no?

Well I thought it might be funny. But it requires a degree of planning & preparation that I'm not prepared to put in.

So by all means have the idea. It's yours. I stole it from some geeky film-maker anyway.

Our little game...

We have this game that starts after dinner & we retire to the lounge to watch TV, music videos or a DVD.

The game is "Guess which channel CSI (or one of its offshoots) is on tonight".

Can a show get any more ubiquitous? Note how they have the same "types" in each.

1. The alpha male - played by respected character actors (and David Caruso). Workaholic. Arrogant. Melancholy.
2. The alpha female, who enjoys a degree of unconsumated romantic tension with #1.
3. The 2nd string female, who is a hottie, but purportedly was a science geek at school. She speaks in a weird & unidentifiable accent (what's with that anyway?). Also may have romantic ambition for the alpha male.
4. The 2nd string males - there are two, completely opposite types. Possibly have a character flaw (gambling) that can be mined for a few episodes).
5. Crusty, but surprisingly sensitive & amusing cop. Seems to be assigned to this crew exclusively.
6. Lab technician. Gender is unimportant. Must have unruly hair, and a few character tics. Ultimately rewarded for good DNA sampling by being allowed to work in the field.

The other thing I don't get is that these CSI forensic types get to interview the suspects - is that likely? And generally do all the cop work that no way would they be allowed to do - break the bad news to families... etc etc.

Anyway... compelling aren't they?

To Kill a Mockingbird

A few weeks back I was in The Warehouse buying up large of their really cheap dog toys & treats. I also spent the best part of an hour going through their DVD section & sale bin.

By golly, some of those DVDs are so cheap it is well worth taking a punt. There are no end of A-Z grade John Wayne movies, tedious Elizabeth Taylor fillers, and even a large selection of 3 Stooges supposed comedies. It's a reminder (much like Turners Classic Movies programming), that far more than now, a big classic movie star (like Wayne, or Taylor), made hundreds of movies, yet are justifiably only remembered now for a handful of classics. The rest are forgotten for a reason.

Anyhow, I came away with:

The Shooting - an odd Western starring a very young Jack Nicholson. It's in my book of Cult Movies & for an outlay of something like $5.95, I figured I should really have a look. I haven't yet though.

The General - old Buster Keaton silent classic. I saw & wrote an essay on this at University. Based on a true story, it follows train driver Keaton during the American Civil War, chasing & recovering his beloved stolen train, and slightly less beloved kidnapped fiance. It is in a word, brilliant! I believe at the time it was the most expensive movie ever made. Mostly because he trashes a rail bridge & an entire train in spectacular fashion near the end.

To Catch a Thief - the Hitchcock classic with Cary Grant & Grace Kelly. And unbelievably, this has dated somewhat. In fact, the first half is so camp (I think mostly because of the Edith Head designs worn by Grant), it is distracting. Monacco & Grace Kelly look great though. This was the only DVD that cost me over $10.

And To Kill a Mockingbird - I'd never seen this movie, nor read the novel from which it sprang. But the girls just happened to forget to go get a mindless comedy on Saturday night, and I'd packed this away with the laptop.

And it is magnificent! A few scenes reminded me of that Southern Gothic classic Night of the Hunter. But it's nowhere near as dark & creepy as that. And that might only be because, like NotH it's told from the point of view of a 6 year old girl & her brother, and the scene where Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch sits on a chair outside the jailhouse & confronts a would be lynch mob (it reminded me of Lillian Gish, looking for all the world like the Grandma in the Tweety & Sylvester cartoons, calmly rocking back & forth on the verandah, cradling a very large shotgun, waiting for Robert Mitchum's evil preacher to turn up... she's got him sussed... one of the very best scenes in one of the very best movies I have ever seen).

Anyway... Peck is suitably stiff & staunch (and possibly so wooden as to be his era's Keanu) as small town lawyer, solo dad & American icon, Atticus Finch, taking on the job of defending a black man accused of raping & beating a white woman. It's the kids who are a revelation (Mary Badham & Philip Alford), the little girl on whom it all centres especially. These are not cute kids (not overly anyway), they're quarrelsome, mischievous, argumentative, resourceful and intelligent. And we see the whole story (and some other peripheral, but important events) unfold through their eyes.

There's also what amounts pretty much to a cameo by Robert Duval, in surely one of his earliest roles, playing Boo Radford, the reputed village idiot. He plays a pivotal role in the movie, and rounds out the children's lesson about discrimination.

I'm willing to bet that some scenes were taken direct from the book, the script has that intelligent feel to it and doesn't spell things out for the moronic. There are little vignettes of the kind that I tend to associate with novels from the Great Depression (The Grapes of Wrath is full of them) - like when the title's reference is explained - I had to think pretty hard about what they were getting at... or the things left in the tree for the children by Boo... or when Atticus is persuaded to shoot the rabid dog... you know these moments are important, even if it's not obvious why. Or maybe I'm just slow.

Not explaining that very well. So let's move on....

Anyway... if you haven't seen it yet, To Kill a Mockingbird is an absolute & intelligent pleasure. Who knows, I might even read it once I start & finish Isabelle Allende's new Zorro novel - isn't that a very cool cover?

33-21 & the Adventures of Hooterman.

Another dicking.

This week, I was the official timekeeper for all 3 courts at our venue. We were given a list of instructions (easy) and a gas powered hooter thing that makes a very loud FWAAARRRPPP!! sound. The girls tested it at 7.30am outside home & must have impressed the neighbours.

I was up at a brutal hour to walk Wilma so we could be at the game by 8am

And we arrived – first game at 8.30am. Got myself all sorted, my phone’s stop watch ready to go (they did supply a timer, but thought I’d use what I know) by 8.20am.

Then a lady turned up and asked “Have you unlocked the toilets, put the protectors around the poles on all 3 courts & hung the signs up?”

“Um… no? Those aren’t on my list.”

And all hands to the pump to get all that done! Then at 8.30 sharp, the lady suddenly said “You have to toot that from down the drive so Court 3 can hear it.”

And so I dropped what I was doing & sprinted 100 yards down the drive with the hooter, held it up high & it went “pffffffftttttttt”.

Oh shit. Testing must have used up the gas. So I went sprinting back up the drive, grabbed the spare canister, sprinted back down & “pfffffffsnarpfffttt”.

Bugger. The lady turned up then & blew her whistle till she was blue in the face. Then she said “Have you started the timer?”

And I realised then that somehow in the frantic rush, I’d lost my phone. So I sprinted back up the drive, started the timer (subtracted a minute) & had 19 minutes then to get the hooter going & find my phone.

Luckily, all fell into place after that. And the hooter must have needed to settle down, because it worked a dream from there on in. I didn’t get to see much of the first half, but parents told me that within the first 5 minutes, we were down 7-0… The opponents were dark horses, we hadn’t played them before, they’d had some losses, but our canny analysis of their previous form & that of whom they’d played suggested they might prove a challenge. Luckily, after a bad start our girls made an amazing recovery & by the time I was organised & in a position to catch up with what was going on, we were 6 goals ahead, winning the game ultimately, 33-21.

The Rep tournament on Sunday was at Paraparumu, so we went up to Sunny O on Saturday afternoon to save travelling time in the morning.

The tournament did not go so well though, as last week. Ah well, you have days like that. I didn’t actually attend, I stayed at Sunny O to keep Wilma company & patched up my stock pen – extended the fence & started to hang a new (recycled) gate. Sadly, I broke my only 15mm drill bit & so it won’t get completed till next week. No worries though.

Next week, the tournament is at Palmerston North, so we’ll stay up the coast again & I’ll have the chance to finish it up then. The beasts probably need crutching. Which isn’t actually as disgusting a job as you’d imagine. Once you catch them. And so long as you’re wearing gloves… Hence the need for a secure pen.

But while I’m on the subject – anyone watch the final between the Sting & the Magic on Friday? If you were only listening to the commentary & didn’t know the score, would you have thought that the Magic was being completely outplayed? I dunno about those commentators sometimes, particularly Brendan Telfer. They’d obviously decided at the outset that the Sting were going to whip the Magic, and it wasn’t till well into the third quarter that they seemed to adjust their mindset to match the scoreboard. In the first play of the game, the Sting had the centre pass, it was immediately intercepted by the Magic, who scored. During & after this play, Brendan & Julie Townsend told us how wonderful the Sting’s defense was looking. Hello, hello? The Magic then scored from their own centre pass, while the commentators reiterated how well the Sting were playing. Good one guys.

Today's belly laugh

The DomPost's diary section has a piece about life imitating South Park. I've never seen South Park, but now & then I think I probably should watch it.

Apparently in 2002 they featured a mock TV show called Russell Crowe: Fighting Around The World.

In it, they had the world's greatest actor sailing around the world on an old tugboat named "Tugger", beating people up for perceived insults.

Brilliant. Colleagues here have raved over that episode since I mentioned it earlier.

The Grinch that stole dancing...

Public Address | Random Play

OK, he's right. So here are some more thoughts on That Dancing Show inspired by Mr Reid.

This sort of programming isn't keeping us stupid, it's just revealing how many of us are really stupid anyway.

How come not one of these journalists has blagged Jason Gunn, nor even asked why anyone is giving him work anyhow? Was Michael Barrymore unavailable? We could have asked Barrymore his thoughts on the Barmy Army.

I could do without the weekly "Norm is the sexiest hooker I've ever seen" gags. I just don't believe it. And no-one had the guts to say it about Georgina Beyer...

Is it really important enough that people write poison pen letters & make abusive phone calls to Tim Shadbolt's office? Wonder how many of them voted for him. Morons.

What can we expect from series 2 (it's inevitable)? Many more unlikely sportspeople of different codes. I'm already on tenterhooks to see how Hamish Carter & Sarah Ullmer do. Or those twins, that'd be a hoot, they'd have to find identical twin dance partners for them surely? Or that guy who seems to be our only racing car driver - the one on every 2nd TV advertisement. (Sorry, having a blank on the names at present - such is the power of advertising I can't even recall what he's touting).

Or Mark Ellis... he'll already have his agent plugging for it, I bet. Expect to see Ben Lummis dancing. Rodney Hide may be at a loose end too, and might be next year's Norm.

Damn, I had much more to say but I have to go interview Dancing with the Stars contestants to find out what they think of the Barmy Army.

Even better than poking nipples! I AM No. 1!!

Yahoo! Search Results for shit in the sauna

Sickos.

Friday's photos...

Although none were actually taken today...















All were from various points in Kelburn. The sunsets were from our back porch.

Younger brother might remember some of this...

The current Lion's tour of NZ quite naturally brings to mind some memories of our rugby mad father. Significant family events were typically planned around rugby tours - our year long return to the UK coincided with the All Blacks 1972 tour of Britain, and our first colour TV was delivered days before, I think, the 1977 Lions tour of NZ.

If family holidays coincided with any major games anywhere in the world, a trusty short wave radio was packed & my dad would get up at any hour necessary, to diligently tune into the appropriate static ridden station half way across the world.

In fact, I do recall a holiday either at Himitangi, or Waitere Beach - it was cold & frosty & possibly blowing a gale & raining - anyway, I remember it wasn't very nice outside. I cannot remember who Wales would have been playing at the time, but dad got himself up in the middle of the night, attempted to tune in the ever present shortwave radio, which at this stage I think, was missing its aerial, failed, and was seen by our mother, outside in the cold & possible storm, wrapped up like a mummy, jumping up and down in excitement, with the radio in his hand and a wire running from the broken aerial to the clothesline.

Dedication doesn't come near describing his fervour.

I also recall one particular game, and a process of elimination leads me to suspect it was the 3rd test in Christchurch, in 1977, between the Lions and the All Blacks. The Lions won it 13-9, but it may have been closer at some stage. It must have been the 2nd half & the ABs were awarded a penalty right in front of the posts. Bryan Williams was playing full back instead of wing & stepped up to take the kick. The crowd were silent.

Suddenly my dad stood up & abruptly left the room. We would all have looked on quizzically, but I remember my mum explained for us "Nerves. He can't watch".

As it happened, Williams inexplicably muffed the easy kick completely. From the kitchen came a jubilant yelp "Bryan Williams! MY HERO!"

And mum calmly explained again that while dad couldn't bear to watch the kick, he also couldn't bear not to listen to it on the kitchen radio.

Remember the first MMP election?

I don't want to comment on politics really, others do that so much better. But I was watching Kim Hill last night, Winston was on, being predictably vile & evading the questions with bluster...

And I recalled the aftermath of that first election a century or so ago... and people were looking at the instability (jeez, I nearly felt sorry for Bolger having to cope with it), the Tight 5, Undiegate & all that, Winston..., and they were saying that it was all the fault of MMP (not in fact, that FPP was any more stable at times, but memories are short aren't they?).

But my point is, if there is one, perhaps, is that MMP was in no way responsible for the shameful shenanigans that went on. Morons who voted for NZ First were. Simple as that.

You may, of course, disagree, but that's how I saw it. And I wonder what will be blamed if similar things happen again.

And now, we revert to our usual scattershot & trivial transmission...

Asians...

So I've been having fun sparring with racists over in a comments thread on David Farrar's site.

And being fascinated by Tze Ming Mok's take on the Older Generation at Public Address (at which BTW, I scored a CD voucher - yay me! - I think I might get a Straitjacket Fits album with it, since the Public Address guys are such fanboys).

And it occurred to me that I've probably covered more than my share of Asian (Hong Kong) movies here & there.

I remember telling a disbelieving friend, possibly 15 years ago, that Hong Kong cinema was where it was at. At that stage I'd seen only a handful of mega-violent examples - The Killer, Hard Boiled, Once a Thief, Bullet in the Head - all directed by John Woo & starring Chow Yun Fat. But there was definitely something new & exciting about those films, not just the pyrotechnics, slow-motion acrobatic gun-play, and... oh OK, it WAS actually the pyrotechnics & slow-motion acrobatic gun play.

In fact, the first Hong Kong movie I ever saw - since the kung fu craze of the 1970s anyway- I think, was The Iceman Cometh - mentioned in a previous post. In that one, Yuen Baio (grew up with Jackie Chan & Samo Hung in the Chinese Opera) is a hundreds of years old palace guard, who along with a mortal enemy is thawed out of a glacier in modern day Hong Kong, he's taken in by a very young Maggie Cheung, and in one boggling scene, somersaults over a speeding car. This movie also features some of the most execrable subtitle work in cinema history "Meet me on the roof in 5 minutes for a duet" (duel). This was one of the first screenings of such a film in downtown Wellington, it was heavily attended by local Chinese, who I was interested to discover, pretty much all turned up well into the film & then talked loudly in Cantonese throughout (which since it was subtitled, wasn't a problem), amusingly, many in the audience sang along with songs... it was kind of cool.

Later, I caught up with other, less noisy movies... Chungking Express, for instance, Days of being Wild, In the Mood for Love... the list is exhaustive. Gee, I've seen more than I realised... For convenience sake, I have appended a Chinese (because there are some films made on the mainland, not just Hong Kong) movie primer. Also for convenience, I have excluded the extensive Jackie Chan back catalogue, because these are well known, and all worthy viewing - although some are puerile, all are eye-popping & if you've had a good grounding in American cinema history, you'll see that Chan has been highly influenced by silent movie stars such as Charlie Chaplin & Buster Keaton. Ie, He lifts gags & stunts wholesale. I have also excluded Crouching Tiger, because you've all seen it already. Or should have. And it was Taiwanese anyway. Kind of.

So for a good time, do go & rent any of the movies mentioned above, and I also recommend:
Ashes of Time, Song of Exile, Ju Dou, Raise the Red Lantern, Shanghai Triad and Chinese Ghost Story. I would guess that the last one there would be the only musical, Taoist ghost story you've ever seen? At least until you take in parts 2 & 3 perhaps... or how about A Chinese Erotic Ghost Story?

And I should mention one more, since I've descended to this level... Naked Killer - I have no idea what went on in this movie, except that it was something to do with a bunch of hottie assassins who did despicable things to their targets in hot tubs & the like, and a lot of knives were thrown around & people shot & otherwise killed in acrobatic & photogenic fashion. It was great.

Before I finish, I'll mention some of the actors, who all appear in more than one of the movies above. Chinese films are not just some of the most innovative, exciting & influential being made in the world today, they also feature some of the hottest casts... which after all, is what movies are all about.

Maggie Cheung, Tony Leung, Leslie Cheung, Chow Yun Fat, Gong Li, and of course... Jackie Chan

While I'm an enthusiastic aficionado though, if Winston Peters promised to ban all Asian movies from New Zealand screens, he might just get Mrs Llew's vote... No, just kidding, if he did, she'd probably become as big a Chinese movie fan as me.

And so it was that this morning, I set the VCR for Infernal Affairs... which was the initial point of this post.

Actually, I'd really like to get to know some key Bollywood movies now, whose casts are possibly even more spectacular in appearance. But to be honest, I'm put off by the 3 hour plus running times of the ones my local DVD store rents.

By the way... there is one movie I remember seeing, but cannot for the life of me remember what it was called, nor who was in it, possibly Leslie Cheung, and it was the usual martial arts, swords, bandits & princesses sort of deal, except that there was something also to do with a killer whale, which saved the hero & heroine at the end, by jumping over a rock bridge & eating the villain, or something like that, and it was either the best trained killer whale you've ever seen (in which case, big ups to the stunt-villain), or some of the best pre-CGI animatronics you've ever seen. If anyone can remind me what the hell that film was called, please let me know.

Here's something I can't figure out.

I come home from a hard day's yakka at the coalface*, there's a 12 year old in residence, a ghetto blaster a-blastin' Gwen Stefani or the Black Eyed Peas from a bedroom, the TV in the lounge set to Nickelodeon, with the volume set to 11 (1 more than 10, see?), the stereo in the dining room blasting whichever artist isn't blasting from upstairs, the computer also in the dining room blasting an Eminem mp3 and on the couch is said 12 year old practising her guitar...

How does she do it?

* Not literally a coal face, that was an earlier life.

Google Search: nude maoris

Woohoo! I am 2nd in the google list!

Google Search: nude maoris

Still amazes me what people are looking for... or that several people from disparate parts of the world, at different times can enter a phrase like "nipples like corks poking" into a search engine & end up at SunnyO. Yes, still.

And thanks so much to Nicky Watson. You're a positive brick.

I was driving back from the airport...

...on Friday night. Deep in the bowels of our car somewhere, is a 6 CD stacker. It's so deep & last accessed so long ago, that an archaeological expedition may be required to change the CD selection.

Anyway, I was on my way back from the airport, and while fumbling for small change to pay the car park man, I managed to randomly knock a number of buttons on the CD control panel.

Suddenly, I was listening to Steely Dan. So that's where my Steely Dan album went to...

Pressing a few more buttons at random I found it! The Eagles Greatest Hits! Which is one of the best albums to listen to while speeding (not literally mind you), in a ridiculously large beast* of a car, back into town.

By the time I got home I'd made it through Lyin' Eyes, Peaceful Easy Feeling, and New Kid in Town. Magic.

The next morning, Mrs Llew & I buckled in to head to Sunny O, New Kid in Town piped up, and all was quiet. When that finished, the next track was of course, another Eagles song & T suddenly exclaimed "WTF? This is THAT CD! I thought we must have been on some retard radio station & was prepared to wear it for a moment!"

Sigh... so I said "Hang on, I'll change it to Steely Dan..."

SunnyO: My music.

* I know what people say about people with really big cars... I just want it noted that this car was my wife's choice. WHile it IS extremely pleasant, and practical, and heroically powerful, given the choice, I'd have a really, really small car, maybe a hybrid.... Remember, I said I once had a Fiat Bambina... so there.

Everybody dies.

Man, I have truckloads to do today, so just a few thoughts on the weekend. And probably no photos... although we'll see.

Saw several movies in the weekend. Old movies. We don't get out as much as we used to. Although we were all hyped to go see Brad & Angelina in Mr & Mrs Smith until we realised it doesn't start till Thursday.

Hero:

Zhang Yimou's... what would you call this? Ode to swords & colour schemes perhaps. I really liked it! T fell asleep. Just sumptuous to look at. And do Maggie Cheung & Tony Leung appear on People's Most Beautiful lists? If not, they're being robbed. By all means check out Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love for further confirmation. Jet Li meanwhile, doesn't sing, but apparently can dance a little.

Anyway, Hero, it's kind of similar to Kaige Chen's The Emperor & the Assassin in that it concerns a planned assassination of the first emperor of China, the King of Qin. Except where Chen's film is based on historical fact, Hero immerses itself in colour coded mythology. It's brilliant! Looking forward to House of Flying Daggers now.

And while we're on the subject of Maggie Cheung, the Hong Kong film industry has always struck me for its lack of pretension. Cheung can appear as the dizzy female airhead in martial arts slapstick like The Iceman Cometh and also worthy fare like In the Mood for Love. Do also check out Irma Vep.

Garden State:

Zach Braff from Scrubs returns home for the funeral of his mother. Meets up with old school friends. Resumes troubled relationship with his father. And makes the acquaintance of Queen Amidala.

Good fun actually. There's a lovely bit where Braff & Natalie Portman go meet a dodgy old friend of his, and they agree that if she starts to pull at her ear, it's the code that she wants out - right away. This plan works well. Much later, Braff is accosted in a supermarket by an ultra creepy old friend & within about 30 seconds Portman's tugging at her ear. Very funny.

What else? Oh yeah, Housekeeper:

This one's got a deceptive cover blurb. It is not an outrageous comedy about a divorced man who gets himself an incompetent hottie for a housekeeper. She's not incompetent. It's more of an amusing drama about a lonely divorced man called Jacques who decides to get his act together & hires a housekeeper to put his flat literally in order. It all works well. Then Laura, the housekeeper, breaks up with her boyfriend & needs a place to stay. Before too long, they're sharing the bed.

Jacques initially regards this relationship as just sex, and doesn't expect or plan for the arrangement to last very long. But it's clear that Laura's attention is very good for his self esteem. When his ex wife appears on the scene, looking to reconcile, Jacques flees the city & Laura persuades him to take along.

When, during the "holiday", Laura declares that she wants a "husband and wife" kind of relationship with Jacques, his self reserve starts to cave in. However, Laura is much, much younger, prone to easy distraction, and very quick to bestow her affection.

The film ends rather precipitously, but you get the feeling everyone is going to be OK. If you've ever had a relationship with someone a lot younger (or maybe a lot older) , you might consider that this film rings true.

We weren't in front of a screen all weekend though. For starters... no netball! And so we slept in till 8.30. That must be a sign of getting old actually, 8.30? Jesus... in the old days it wasn't a real sleepin if it was still morning...

We did visit SunnyO, briefly, to check on the sheep, retrieve a pick (which would be needed in town Sunday & Monday), loll in front of an open fire & enjoy a marvelous moroccan meal consisting of chicken, olives & preserved lemons. Fantastic!

We also decided, since it looked overcast, not to take the camera with us on the dog walk along the beach. And so I do not have photos of what was possibly, the most impressive sunset & red sky I have ever seen up there. Wouldn't have been half as impressive if I'd had the camera...

Slept in the next day till 8.45....

Sunday & Monday were spent digging a vast trench. I ache very badly today. T meanwhile, painted skirting boards & doors. The old place is starting to scrub up nicely. Aside from the front yard, which we agree seems to be getting worse, before it gets better. Eyesore probably does not come close.

The plumber should be back sometime this week to move our water pressure down a few settings from Riot Quelling, through Barnacle Lifting, Paint Stripping, Moss Removing and Skin Flaying, to something in between Bracing and Sensual Massage.

Oh... and the subject line refers to one of the movies we saw. Guess which one.

When good home maintenance jobs go bad...

Well... not bad as such, but they could go smoother at times.

Had a plumber & a gasfitter around the other day, to install a new continuous gas fired hot water system. This is to replace the really ancient hot water cyllinder that is up in the roof (effectively, 3 storeys up). That old cyllinder worked. Kind of. But to get hot water in the kitchen we had to start running it about 5 minutes (no exaggeration) before we needed it to allow the water to get down to the kitchen. Also, the old cyllinder, or pipes attached to it, were known to leak on occasion.

In fact, there are so many old (possibly) disused water & gas pipes under our house, that's a project in itself. I already had the supply to the 1930s copper in the basement disconnected - because it dripped, and coppers don't have plug holes to drain them...

SO these guys were in to check the gas piping, disconnect & drain the old cyllinder & install a fancy new system.

First call from them came 5 minutes after I left them to it. "Your existing gas supply is inadequate for what you have planned."

Excellent. There was a solution though - and that was to run a very ugly looking, bright yellow, temporary pipe from the gas metre at the front gate, to the house. At an extra cost of $400 or so. But actually, I was expecting to have to replace it, I had believed that the existing pipe was a rusty old galvanised one that possibly leaked. The gas fitter, when he rang said there was good news & bad. The good was that there was a bright yellow, new pipe running through the rusty one. The bad was the aforementioned news that it was inadequate for the supply needed. (Reminder to myself: I still need to call the gas supplier to tell them we need the gas pressure ramped up in anticipation of impending installation of new gas heating, and the gas metre moved as a car deck is about to be built on top of it).

Fortunately, I had unearthed the gas pipe in the weekend, while digging a trench that will be needed for when we have to run our power supply underground - when the next big project takes place (soon), which is the cardeck.

Then, when they'd connected the new pipe up and installed the new water system, I came home at about 5.30pm to find them still there, trying to ascertain where a major leak was. I left for my walk with Wilma & at no stage did anyone mention the possibility that we might be without hot water, and I took that as a good sign...

And lo! We had hot water when I came home. The cloud in this silver lining was that in order to staunch the identified leak, they'd had to disconnect the only heater we have in our house. But at least the water is warm.

And pressure!... the kitchen is now fantastic! It takes 5 seconds, not minutes now to warm up. The bathroom? Well... I turned on the shower & inadvertently started a high pressure blast across the bath onto the wall & my pile of clothes on the ground... and my towel. We're going to need that turned down a bit. But have managed to direct the nozzle in a direction that minimises the drenching of the room. And after you've been in the shower for 30 seconds or so, the pain gets bearable. I suppose it's good for circulation.

We presume that the possibility that the water pressure will blow our existing taps & fittings across the room exists only in our imaginations.

This weekend, I'll be continuing to dig my trench, ever so slowly uphill, towards the front gate.

In about 3 weeks time, we should have two new, very attractive gas fires installed & all our heating woes will be a thing of the past.

I suppose everyone does this sort of thing just as Winter strikes...

Wind farms

Apparently they reduce wind gusts, so, since a lot of people who did the Wellingtonist "How do I love thee Wellington" thing, mentioned they hated wind, I suggest we ring the city with these things. Not only would they be a tourist draw, but we could conceivably lose the "Windy City" nickname.

STUFF - STORY - HOME : NZ's biggest wind farm for Makara

SunnyO: Deep Throat?

SunnyO: Deep Throat?

So... It was neither Thompson, nor Rehnquist...

Oh Well...

Still waiting for someone I know on Foundphotos...

But in the meantime...

Anybody else find the Whacko Jacko Doco last night creepy?

No, not the actual show, we've seen all that shit before. I'm talking about the advertisements pretty much all featuring young children (including some Anne Geddes style, artfully arranged, naked babies - creepy in the extreme!).

What was the advertisers' target audience?

Great Mysteries of our Time #... um... 3?

Why do you have to make appointments with clairvoyants anyway?

Can't they just call you up if they happen to be busy at the time you decide to go see one?

The Lion King

Really, I have to link to this. Mike is right, the greatest Lion of all time, if not the greatest rugby player ever, was Barry John.

MiramarMike: Barry John: the greatest Lion of them all

I saw him play in 1971 during the Lion's tour of New Zild. The Lions were training in Wellington at Wellington College. My dad was teaching there at the time & we went to see them train. Most excitingly, my dad was also friends with their coach, Carwyn James & we got all their autographs.

John was a better kicker than Wilkinson even, and with the ball was simply untouchable - as the article Mike links to says, he pretty much ended Fergie McCormick's career in 1971.

There were times, when the ball would come to John & the All Blacks would stand still, waiting to see what he would do, as if there was no point at all in attempting to tackle him. On one occasion when this happened, John also stopped & stood there, and for an astonishing few seconds in the middle of a test game, without the whistle blowing, no-one was moving. And then he was off! And indeed there wasn't much point in pursuing him, not only did it seem he couldn't be tackled, but he couldn't even be touched as he ghosted through the increasingly frustrated defense.

And then out of the blue, at the top of his game, he retired, retiring the hopes of an entire rugby obsessed nation that they would ever beat the All Blacks in the near future at least.

The future of TV remotes

STUFF : NATIONAL NEWS - STORY : Smart shoe battles square eyes

This sounds SO stupid. But it reminds me of my uncle, who, irritated with the amount of time his teenagers spent in the shower, wired his hot water cyllinder up to an exercycle & decreed that 20 minutes cycling was required before a hot shower would be permitted.

You'd need a shower after that.

To be fair, he only took these steps after the illegal water wheel that he'd built on the stream that ran through his garden, and under his driveway, was discovered. I suspect such measures are encouraged now, rather than banned.

36-6. This week's netball

The girls are so gracious in victory, "Man, we dicked them!". I feel obliged to counsel "Don't say that! Until they're out of earshot."

The score might say it all. Although truly, the team that succumbed this week was 2nd in the table. But didn't I say last week that M's team were 2nd? I can't remember, although it is true.

For some inexplicable reason, despite there being enough games in the season to do this, the tournament does not run by having each team play each other twice, and then ranking the table according to wins & points.

Apparently that would be unfair for the teams who are... useless. They may be demoralised & never play again. Hooey.

What they do is: At the beginning of the season each coach is asked "Is your team any good? Or not?". I'm not sure even, how they're supposed to know if thay're any good at the beginning of the year...

So they split the A grade into A1 & A2. Then they play 3 "grading games" within the two A grades.

At the end of the 3 games, the top two from A2 switch places with the bottom 2 from A1.

And so this weekend we played the top team from A2, who came up with an unbeaten record & a truck load of points - they'd won by considerable margins. And we crushed them.

Paradoxically, one of the teams that was relegated, and which we beat by a narrower margin - 33-15 or something, it's on this site somewhere, crushed their opponents too.

Now what will happen is that there will be all sorts of dicking around with the draw & the same handful of teams will play each other over & over to make it fair on everyone else. Possibly they will rejig A1 & A2 further.

Just ridiculous. Out of interest, do any other kids tournaments do it in this fashion? Or is it more usual to to play the whole field against each other once or twice & tally up the points?

Maybe I'm the one with the ridiculous notions...

UPDATE: M's rep team came 2nd in their tournament yesterday. They won 5 out of 6 games - beat one club's A team but lost to their B team, indicating that with a little more discipline, total victory was within their grasp! Good start to the rep season though.

More on music

When I was a teenager, I had an astounding revelation. I shared it with my initially sceptical friends, but they quickly came to agree as we tried it out with every appropriate song. More recently, I tried the theory out on my wife - I can't remember which song prompted it, but she remains sceptical (innocent that she is).

In any song, the word "Rock" is a euphemism for the word "Fuck".

It's true! Try it.

Was it David Cassidy who warbled?:
Ooh... I wanna ROCK you baby!
ROCK you all night long.

Abba similarly implored:
ROCK me
Gimme that kick now
ROCK me
Show me that trick now
ROCK me

On the other hand... Michael Jackson claimed:
I wanna ROCK with you
All night

See? Maybe you already realised this. I thought it was obvious, but I'm surprised that not everyone thinks so. Maybe there are exceptions...

I may add more during the weekend as they come to mind.

Although... what are we to make of the B52's Rock Lobster....

My music.

Everyone else is blogging music (I so can't be bothered to link to the rest of the Wellingtonists), so I may as well demonstrate how hip & cool I am too (like their parents perhaps).

But first, I want to ask what is it with tribute acts? Do I really want to see some guy who looks like both Elton John & Billy Joel singing their songs? Does anyone? Are they the same people who go & see stageshow versions with the original cast Are You Being Served? I don't even want to see the real Elton & Billy.

As for Queen tributes... and please, I don't want to hear from anyone who loved anything that starts with Abba...solutely, or anything.

Although the Beat Girls are cool.

A long time ago, a lecturer (Bill Manhire I think) read to us from Playboy magazine. And if reading from Playboy doesn't show that irony was alive & well in the 70s, I don't know what does). The point was that he read from an interview with Bob Dylan, and Dylan was asked "What are your songs about?" And Dylan's response was along the lines of "Well some of them are about... 3 minutes long, some of them are about 5 minutes long, and some of them even, are about 10 minutes long".

Well that might be fine for Dylan, but what are the Eagles' songs about? They probably represented perfectly the California sound of the 1970s. A sound preoccupied with a flashy, tropical lifestyle of sex & drugs & complete vacuousness. I so wanted to be there. Life in the Fast Lane. Etc. They also wrote songs about cowboys. How good can it get?

So I want to set the record straight about The Eagles, They seem to get a bad deal these days. In my final year of college, Hotel California was THE album, and THE song. So in a way, if my life has to have a soundtrack, songs from that album would probably cover the "coming of age" years. Frampton Comes Alive was the other big album that year. But I never really liked it. Actually, I hated it & history seems to agree with me in retrospect. Peter Wankton, we used to say.

My family won't let me play Eagles' albums. Not while they're around anyway. they're a bit iffy about the Beach Boys & b52s too. SO I never get to listen to "my" music.

But take any Eagles' song at random - say Peaceful Easy Feeling, which isn't off Hotel California, but who cares? Look at the depth in the lyrics here. I have annotated with their real meaning. In case you're slow or something.

I like the way your sparkling earrings lay,
against your skin so brown
and I wanna sleep with you in the desert tonight
with a billion stars all around

(I like sex outdoors with groupies)

'cause I gotta peaceful easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing on the ground

(I'm on a lot of drugs)

And I found out a long time ago
what a woman can do to your soul
Ah, but she can't take you anyway
You don't already know how to go

(Groupies are fine, but masturbation is best)

and I gotta peaceful, easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing on the ground

(2 stanzas in & I'm still off my face)

I get this feeling I may know you
as a lover and a friend
but this voice keeps whispering in my other ear,
tells me I may never see you again

(I'm so out of it I'm not sure if I recognise you, I hear voices and I have 3 ears)

'cause I get a peaceful, easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing on the ground
'cause I'm already standing...
on the ground
oooo, oooo

(My pants are really tight).

I should really do this for the lyrics to Hotel California, but let's face it, no-one knows what the hell that song was about. Probably groupies, drugs, sex & tight pants too. "Warm smell of WHAT? Rising up in your face"?

The Complete List - ALL-TIME 100 Movies - TIME Magazine

Cripes... I've seen 63 of these....

The Complete List - ALL-TIME 100 Movies - TIME Magazine

Must get cracking on the other 37 I suppose.

Autumn brings them out...

This is a bit late... the season must be over I think. But at certain times of the year it is not uncommon to see strange faces in the Botanic Gardens. I used to notice the same thing when I lived near the town belt in Vogeltown.

Autumn always sees more people than usual, often wearing army surplus coats & hats, but not always (just allow me to stereotype for a moment). Have I mentioned this before? Anyway... they're mostly around & underneath the pine trees, and their eyes are rivetted to the ground.

I have always just assumed they're looking for magic mushrooms. I don't know what shrooms look like (truly - and it seems a dodgy thing to find out by trial & error, much like learning how to use an electric fence without the manual - which I know I HAVE mentioned before), but I assume it's not these, because no one picks them.

And now... back to SunnyO, briefly...

Probably been a while since you saw photos of sheep here... but here are the lawnmowers. Taken before the black one went bald though. And it's growing back, in case you were worried.



And penultimately (there IS one more photo to come later). I mentioned a while back I'd walked up & down the beach taking photos of beach sculptures. This is the only one photogenic enough to bother posting. Even the one that looked just like a bosom wan't worth it (and actually, it was the middle part of a daisy), it just looked dodgy.

Streetlight by fog... or fog by streetlight...

Whatever.

Dogs & toys...

It's always a good idea to take a ball on a rope, or even just a rope, on a dog walk. If you run into other dogs someplace where you can (covertly) let them off the lead, ropes come in handy for them to chase & play tug o' war.

Wilma loves being chased by as many dogs as possible with a rope in her mouth. She dodges, and hides, and comes running out from unexpected places in bushes. She loves it.

Usually, I'll tie the rope to the lead so I don't have to carry it. The other day, she was playing at home with a ball on a rope that I usually don't take on walks. So this time, since it was a toy in favour again, I took it with us. It didn't tie very well onto the lead. And by the time I got to the lawn, I found it had fallen off somewhere along the way.

Had a bit more time than usual that day, so I decided we'd retrace our steps & find the ball. We'd wandered far & wide throught the gardens on that occasion, so it was a long walk.

No sign of the ball anywhere. Until we got right back to the gun emplacement near the Met Office & Carter Observatory, which is about 2 minutes from the start of our walk. And someone had found the ball we dropped pretty much straight away & placed it where we'd notice it.

Time for some photos!

I had a couple of hours to myself last night (skived Tennis Club - well actually, I forgot all about it & wondered where everyone was when I got home), so I took advantage of having access to the PC to down & upload some recent pictures.

Also... while I'm here, As this site closes in on 10,000 visitors (only 6000 or so of them will be me I'm sure) I continue to be astonished at what people google in looking for (and I guess, what they find). A big one recently has been the phrase "best dressed dogs". "Nipples poking" continues to be a favourite. And of course "Nicky Watson". Nicky is clearly this year's Rache Hunter. One guy (I presume anyway) came in on "Her clothes fall off". And another was looking for... "spanking Faramir". Good stuff.

Onto the photos... from various dog walks.



Panoramic view of the harbour. The airport was indeed closed that day.

Questions... always with the questions...

And further...

How come Vader (at the beginning of... Star Wars - the first & fourth one) doesn't even recognise the planet he was born & raised on? And his uncle (or step-father, or brother-in-law, or whatever) Owen, who brought up Luke?

Is it at this point I should just be suspending disbelief? (Breathe in & out, it never actually happened.... it's not true). it's just one of those accepted symptoms of unexpected success & sequelitis...

Pillocks.

STUFF : ENTERTAINMENT - STORY : Star Wars fans burnt in light sabre duel

A Star Wars Question.

Here's one for the mega geeks I suspect. Something I don't understand...

In the original star wars films, I mean the ones with Luke & Leia & the gang, how come Darth Vader didn't recognise his old pals R2D2 & C3P0?

Meanwhile, here's the best review I've read of the new one so far.

This guy goes into a sauna...

The best joke I have ever heard. If you've a long memory, it was once one of Steve Braunias' Listener columns. I told it to high acclaim at a black tie party at Lake Ohau Lodge on December 31 1999. Everyone had to speak after dinner, I had planned to lecture them about why the real turn of the century wasn't until Dec 31 2000, but at the last second told this joke instead. Man, we got trashed that night. Then set off fireworks.

These are not Steve's exact words, and if some of them are, it's because they were so memorable they stuck in my mind.

So this guy goes to a sauna. It's Friday night & he's had a really heavy week. He's driving past the place & thinks "Hmm... that's what I need, a nice unwinding sauna".

He pays his admission, takes off his clothes & stows them in a locker in the dressing room, wraps a towel around himself & heads on into the sauna.

And it's nice & relaxing. He's there about 10 minutes, when the door opens & 3 guys look in. They see him, then close the door, and the guy can hear them discussing something outside. Then the door opens again, and the 3 troop in & say gidday.

So, they're all sitting there for another few minutes, when one of the 3 men says,
"Hey mate.... do you, do you fancy getting stoned?" and he holds up a really fat joint.

The guy thinks about it, then he says,
"Aw... no thanks, but you guys go ahead"

The man says,
"Are you sure man? It's really good stuff, and it's a real blast to get stoned in a sauna."

The guy thinks about it a bit more. It's been a really bad week, and suddenly he decides "Fuck it, why not"
"Ok" he says, "Why not"

So they all take a few deep drags, and one of the men is prattling on about what quality gear it is, hydroponically grown and all that. And the guy is thinking to himself "They're right, it IS a real blast to get stoned in a sauna. This is REALLY good stuff!"

He lays back, and after a few minutes he drifts off to sleep. He wakes up with a jolt & it looks like some time has passed. The 3 guys have gone. He thinks to himself that it's time he got moving too.

He goes out to the dressing room, and to his horror, he sees that his clothes, including his wallet & car keys, are gone from the locker. Panicked, he looks out the window & he sees the 3 men getting into a car. One of them sees him & waves his trousers at him.

"Oh shit!" he thinks, as he races out into the carpark wearing only his towel. The men are driving off now, but the guy manages to flag down a passing taxi.
"Follow that car" he gasps. And the chase is on.

They travel for miles. The guy is really scared, his heart is racing, and he's really, really, stoned. His one hope is that the men in front will throw his clothes & gear out of the window so he can get dressed, pay the taxi driver & go home. And never, ever mention this to anyone.

They're miles out into the countryside now, and the car ahead shows no signs of stopping. the taxi driver asks the guy what he wants to do periodically, he keeps telling him to keep following the car.

Then they lose it. They're in the middle of nowhere & they have no idea where the car ahead got to. The taxi driver stops & turns around & asks the guy,
"Where to now?"

The guy doesn't know what to say. He tells the taxi driver that he has no wallet nor money, and he can't pay for the ride. There is over $500 on the clock.

"There's only one thing for it." says the driver, "Get out & bend over the bonnet."
"What?" says the panic stricken guy.
"You heard me. Bend over & take it like a man"

And he does. When the taxi driver has finished with him, he rather meanly takes the towel, gets back into the taxi, and drives away. Leaving the guy naked, humiliated & cold, standing in the middle of the road.

This is the worst day of his life. No contest. He starts to walk back the way he believes town is. He walks for quite a while, his feet are sore, other sensitive parts are sore. And then it starts to rain.

He moves to the side of the road & tries to shelter under a bush. Suddenly, he feels the need to take a huge dump. He is feeling really sorry for himself.

He squats down & starts straining...

Suddenly, one of the three men comes swimming out of the darkness towards him & says,
"Hey man, I know you're really stoned, but you can't take a shit in a sauna."

Swimming Pool

Saw this DVD called Swimming Pool, with Charlotte Rampling, Ludivine Sagnier & Charles Dance, & directed by Francois Ozon. And it's your typical art-house French film about naked aging & young hotties lounging around a swimming pool, except it's in English.

Honestly, is there a movie where Charlotte Rampling keeps her clothes on? But to be fair, it's a short scene & she's looking pretty flash for 60ish. Sagnier on the other hand, is naked pretty much the whole time. And looking REALLY flash for 20ish.

Rampling is a prim British crime novelist along the lines of Ruth Rendell. Her publisher gives her the use of his house in France so she can work on her new book. At first, everything is just peachy, but then, the publisher's over-sexed daughter turns up to ruin the peace with loud music & even louder sex.

The women detest each other at first, but slowly begin to warm. Then there's a violent crime. And then... there is a scene near the end that causes you to question everything (yes, everything) you've seen so far.

This is a nice easy film to critique actually, because saying anything is out of the question without spoiling it.

The pace is languid. The scenery, including the two leads, is highly decorative. The acting is great - Sagnier holds her own with the more experienced Rampling too. The swimming pool itself is... a metaphor! Yes! See if you can spot it.

Ozon also directed the amusing 8 Femmes which had Sagnier in the ensemble cast, and Sous le Sable, with Rampling.

Anyway, have a look.

So I need a new job - hire me goddamit!

Sigh... I suppose I'll have to get off my chuff & do something. Much as I hate to have to admit my wife has been right all along.

Problem is... well there are two actually: 1. I'd really like to do something that I really enjoy, can get passionate about even; And 2. it has to pay quite a lot of money, because the job I'm bored with, does & me & the bank have this symbiotic relationship thing going on. I owe them a truckload of money, and they seem to insist that I keep paying it back.

So what do I do now? Hmm... how to explain it... I run a little team of analysts that do all the statistical reporting for a largish corporation. You often see the results of my work in the newspaper. But you woudn't know it probably.

Anyway... how did I get here? Accident really.

I studied English Lit at varsity. I was not the most dedicated student, but university did wonders for my self confidence & social life... My first job was with State Coal Mines.. part of the Ministry of Energy at the time. Actually, my first job was buying & importing mining machinery. But after a a year or so, I blagged my way into their Information Unit - and there my job was producing the in-house magazine, writing speeches & press releases, a short history of coal mining in NZ which got sent to schools & for all I know might still be being used somewhere, and generally having a grand old time. When the whole gig ended, one of the Deputy Secretaries of Energy gave us all a pep talk, said he hoped we'd all enjoyed ourselves... looked straight at me & said "I know you did."

Then... we were "corporatised". I mean, I'm not going to go into the mechanics of the thing, but we were the first government agency to be... laid off essentially. I spent about 3 months lazily cruising for a new job, I imagined I'd probably end up in an advertising agency (don't ask me why) or something. I think I saw myself lunching & carousing with models & actresses... don't even bother telling me advertising isn't like that - a job's what you make it right?

What I actually did was get an interview for a rotating shift computer operator job with a sharebroking firm. It paid well, Summer was coming (it was a great summer that year) and I could see some advantages to having days off...

The sharebrokers was fascinating... when I was interviewed, they made a big thing of mentioning the lucrative profit sharing scheme. Man... it sounded great. Figured I'd get a real job in Autumn. So I signed up & started working with these flashy sharebrokers. One of my most embarrassing professional moments involved a room full of attractive female wannabee Dynasty foreign exchange dealers. I was trying to fix their computer system. I came running down from the computer room upstairs, fronted up to this room full of 80s big hair, breasts & shoulder pads, took a deep breath, and said "Sorry, I can't get it up." There was quite a long silence actually, before they all fell about laughing at my expense.

It was early October, 1987.

In some ways the worldwide sharemarket crash made things even more interesting. in about 6 months, I went from being the lowliest member of their 6 person IT unit, to being the entire IT Unit. The learning curve was steep, and in a couple of years I was marketable enough to score a Systems Team Leader position with the NZ branch of a Fortune 500 company. That was interesting too, but in a different way. And I've been stuck in the IT field ever since.

Back to the sharebrokers though briefly... our Computer Room was on the 3rd floor of a building in Panama Street (it's not there anymore), next door to the corporate kitchen, and across the hall from the corporate wine cellar. Our corporate chef was a lovely woman called Wendy - I think she's got a cool restaurant going in Martinborough at the moment. It meant that the kitchen was eminently raidable in the early hours.

Additionally, Wendy's affable son, John, and some others (including a cute law student called Sue, and a funny guy who was involved in Canteen called Brendan), would come in in the evenings & stuff envelopes for mailouts. We'd all sit around the boardroom table, drinking corporate wine & eating left over corporate lunches, watching TV. To explain a little, my job involved endless hours of waiting for backups to complete, so I wasn't necessarily skiving off.

Wendy's son John eventually became a trainee sharebroker. then he finished his masters & decided to become a journalist. The firm's partners warned him he'd never get anywhere in journalism. You be the judge. (Actually, I used to attend the brokers' monday morning briefings & I formed the theory that if you did the exact opposite of what they recommended, you'd make a lot more money. I really should have tried to prove that I think.)

So... back to me... I need a new job. Something I enjoy doing as much as I enjoy stuffing around with these blogs. does such a thing exist? Would anyone hire me?

What can I do... well, let's ignore the IT thing for now, I'm just a technocrat these days. Staff management & checking their work (we have to be right) takes up most of my time.

Possibly I can write a little - I like to think so anyway. I'm not sure if I could do technical writing though. I'd probably wizen up & die if I tried. I reckon I could do a column... but I also reckon that market is pretty much saturated at the moment.

I CAN actually do the public speaking thing too, not so flash if I have to prepare a speech - I've found I'm boring & stilted then. But if I know what I'm talking about, it seems I can engage a group, and pretty much wing it for as long as you like.

Also... now that I think about it, I'm a great problem solver.

How does this translate into big bucks & financial security? I haven't the slightest idea.

Advice please! I throw the problem over to the floor....

I'll try not to make a habit of writing about myself. Or family & friends (although there is a short story about my mum & a guy who liked safari suits that I've been kicking around in my mind. - younger bro - does mum still read this?)

Some thoughts on that dancing show.

First up: Mrs Llew is hooked. Once we surf on in, you surf on out at your peril.

Besides, we took dancing lessons for a while. I know what I'm talking about. Trust me.

Dancing With The Stars | TV ONE PROGRAMMES | TV ONE | tvnz.co.nz

So those thoughts I mentioned.

1) It's harder for the men - they have to lead (theoretically) and think ahead. I don't know about you guys, but I find that pretty challenging.

2) Why is Bernice so crap at this? She looked brilliant last night doing those cartwheels on the beach.

3) Why is Norm so good at this? My theory (scoffed at in the confort of my own home) is that he's (or was) a professional athlete, well used to taking instruction on where & when to put his feet. His partner is a bit scary though.

4) No. 3 does not seem to apply to Bernice.

5) Who the fuck would name their son d'Artagnan?

6) I'm pretty sure Theresa Healey was in some of my English classes at Varsity. Why does she look 10 years younger than me?

7) The "They're in Foveaux Strait" comment from Tim was pretty funny.

8) That Nerida is pretty cute. Have you noticed that she's got pointy ears? Mrs Llew told me off for being rude when I mentioned it, but I wasn't. I think they're pretty cool. Nice eyes too.

9) That guy when asked who was his favourite pair, who answered "Nerida". Hah! Hope his wife was watching.

10) Who is responsible for giving work to Jason Gunn, anyway?

11) Wasn't it hilarious that Nicky got sent home first, after all the primping in the mags?

So go to the link above & download the wallpaper...

Stand the hell back, I'm gonna post it!

Apologies for the mild profanity above. I've been sitting on this post for soooo long now, and being so unable to resist tinkering with it that I was about to add in the tale, from when I was 13, of when I nearly saw my first pair of female breasts.

It may not be apparent yet, but this is part of a Wellington Blogosphere initiative to tell the world why we love Wellington, and for those of us not born here, what brought us to this fair city.

Kind of like that one guy who does a mexican wave all by himself. Or not. Alan over at Half-pie has his ready too. The Wellingtonist may very well link to everyone who has a go. So have at it Wellingtonians.

I was brought to Wellington by my parents, in January 1968. I spent the first 8 years of my life in a smallish village in South Wales.

As far as I'm aware, we emigrated from the "Old Country" because my dad got bored. I have hazy recollections of destinations being discussed: South Africa, Canada, Australia, and some place that sounded like "Hawkeland", in New Zealand, which sounded intriguing. But before we knew it, dad had a job lined up in cosmopolitan Wainuiomata.

Legend has it that my great grandfather "Pop", warned my mother to reconsider the move to this "Lower Hutt": "You're used to electricity." he advised. Other, equally well-travelled relatives assumed that the Hutt Valley consisted literally of two huts, Upper & Lower, and the latter was to be our home... grass skirts not included. And don't mention the natives... luckily, my dad was raised on a diet of John Wayne, Randolph Scott & James Stewart pioneering westerns, he was confident he knew what he was doing.

We travelled to NZ on the Shaw Savill liner, Southern Cross. If memory serves, the voyage took 6 weeks, with stops at Panama, Curacao, Trinidad & Tobago, Fiji, Tahiti, and possibly some places I've forgotten too. Long voyages on ocean liners are colossally boring.

My first recollection of Wellington was as the ship sailed into the harbour & berthed at the Overseas Terminal. I remember how bright all the houses in Oriental bay looked. It must have been a marvelous Summer's day. We were met by the principal of Wainui College, who whisked us out to the Hutt, over the Wainui hill road, and dropped us at the fabulous Empire Hotel. Where we stayed for several days until someone rescued us & took us in until a house was found & readied for us..

Meanwhile, our furniture was still in Southampton & remained there for several months due to a wharfie strike.

In the first few months in our new country, Wellington experienced quite a large earthquake - I remember the clock fell of the wall at school & hit some kid on the head - while the rest of us quailed under our desks, and the Wahine Day storm. My mum asked her friends if it was always like this...

Four years later, we returned to the UK for a year. Once again by ocean liner (I did not fly until I was 25, and that was in a 4 seater piloted by a mate), this time Chandris Line's Ellinis (4 weeks), travelling back much the same way we had come 4 years earlier. I think my parents were testing the waters. Deciding once & for all where they would like to live. One year later, the choice having been made, we were sailing back once again, to NZ, stopping at Rotterdam, the Canary Islands, Capetown...

Once again, I was struck by the bright colours of the houses in Oriental Bay. And once again, we were ensconced in the Hutt Valley.

When of a sufficient age that I could travel with my friends from the Hutt into Wellington for movies & the like, it was to a Wellington much different to what it is now. For a start, there were no cafes, there were a handful of "milk bars", like the Lido, and the Paramount, so named because they were adjacent to cinemas of the same name. Indeed, those two cinemas were different places too, both specialising in it seemed, alternate programmes of European "Art House" (Ingmar Bergman), and soft core pornography (The X-Rated Adventures of Pinnochio - It's Not His Nose that Grows), although to our novice viewing tastes, there wasn't much difference between the two genres. The eponymous milk bars also did very hearty breakfasts, which came in handy in later years when suffering from hangovers... many a Saturday morning was spent consuming balck coffee & "grease" at the Lido, "brunch" being a poncy JAFA term not yet introduced to these parts.

Dining out in the evenings was usually a case of queueing for fish & chips, burgers or Chinese takeaway on the way home from the pub. Until the legendary Mexican Cantina came along, with its innovative booking system which allowed you to leave your name & number of diners on a blackboard, head to the nearest pub for 2-3 hours & by the time you got back, you were at the top of the list & seated nearly straight away. That place was the best.

Friday nights were spent at the historic Barrett's Hotel (pretty much where Michael Hill Jewellers is beside Plimmer Steps - a dodgy looking street preacher was usually outside handing tracts to passers by & calling out "Jesus Saves" even then. Goodness knows how long he'd been there). I swear to you that it was possible to get tanked, enjoy an open beef sandwich & still have the trainfare home from $5.

I eventually moved to a flat in Aro valley when I got sick of commuting to Victoria University. And I've been in Wellington city ever since. It is doubtful now that I would live anywhere else, although I flirted briefly with the idea of moving to the South of France, but had I made that move, I'm quite sure Wellington would have remained my home & that I would have returned in time.

There is much I love about Wellington. The fact that you can pretty much walk anywhere (excluding the barbarian suburbs) within half an hour. The cafes & restaurants. The Embassy Theatre, and indeed the bustling cultural life that I really don't dip into as much as I should - but I love the fact that it's there. I love where I live - about 1 minute's walk from the top of the cable car. I love where I work - about 30 seconds walk from the bottom of the cable car... not to say that I love what I do at work...

I love that the Lord of the Rings was made here, and I love that a man like Peter Jackson calls Wellington home.

I love the harbour, which really cannot be beaten on a good day. I love that it is only a very short drive to the Kapiti Coast and the Wairarapa, traditional playgrounds for city folk like me.

I love the Botanic Gardens, which I visit as often as twice a day...

I love the politics... and the possibility that you might see some errant politician punch out a journalist, or member of the public, in a pub or cafe.

I love my family, and my faithful dog... these are Wellington for me. And the 10 year collection of projects that comprise our (will be one day) lovely house.

I love the (periodically) magnificent Summers. Summer here gets bad press on the whole, I think, but by late January, you can pretty much be assured of a couple of months of long, barmy days. Sometimes it starts earlier, sometimes it lasts longer. And I don't think it can be argued that we have very mild Winters.

I could do without the wind at times. Particularly that evil nor'wester that whips in & around the city & tests my patience. That nor'wester is a sod in my opinion. At least Southerlies know what they're doing - blowing from the South! I can dress up warm, or stay indoors for those.

I'm sometimes dubious about the quality of our mayors & councillors. But you get that I suppose, in cities, with mayors & councillors. Someone should do something about her hair. And I can't really see the point of The Bypass. 90 seconds off a trip to the airport? Woo-effing-hoo.

Best & worst times? To be honest, I'm a glass half full guy & I can only remember good times. I daresay there were bad days... when my dog or cat died, the first few times I got dumped from a relationship (then I got pretty practised at getting dumped, pretty darned good at it in fact, I hesitate to claim that I could have been dumped for my country - World & Olympic Champion Dumpee!!, but I may have been the Beckham of breakups - except he scored (a lot) more. I'm so over it now though. YOU BITCHES!!. The point being that it didn't seem to matter so much as it did the first few times). So...the bad days didn't last long. Ahem, anyway...

What does Wellington mean to me? It's home, where I've spent most of my happy life. It holds a good portion of the people that I love. It is a pleasure, with or without V8 car racing (get over it already!).

Welcome to Blackball.

I only link to this because the editorial in this week's Listener by Bruce Ansley discusses this affair & ends with the following words:

"One protester declared: "We don't want to be known as a bunch of vigilante morons."

Too late."

And I thought that was worth a blog.

STUFF : INSIGHT - STORY : Welcome to Blackball

19-21

So... first loss of the season. T reckons it's not bad to have a loss early on, stops the girls getting overconfident. Also... since it looks like the team we lost to is the one to beat this year (they've positively caned everyone else they've met), it was a good result. And since we lost by less than 5 goals, we do get a point. Depending how the other teams went, we should be 2nd equal on the table. Can't complain about that.

A draw would have been fair - it was one of those games where neither team ever got more than 2 ahead of the other & it swung either way. Very exciting... If the hooter had gone a minute earlier, we'd have won!

Oddly, the same crap umpire that presided over last week's game, presided over this one. We don't know how that came about since it wasn't her team this week... but she was marginally fairer this time, which probably reflects that she was neutral. But we will find out why that was, as we'll be seeing the other team's coach at the rep tournament next week & I will ask :)

Now we're waiting to see what the organisers do with the draw for the next few games, theoretically, we should now have a string of relatively easy games, as we've played the top 3 teams already. Theoretically...

Conversations overheard.

I'm on hundreds of overseas visitors holiday videos. And in thousands of their holiday photos. I don't think any of these people know me. I wonder sometimes if, by some cosmic coincidence, they'll get home & show their holiday pictures to someone who does. That would be cool. I'm also waiting for myself to appear on Foundphotos.com (see link to the right). All this from regularly catching the Cable Car up the hill.

Kind of reminds me of a beautifully composed (IMHO) photo I took at the Palace of Versailles. When it was developed, it seemed entirely dedicated to this Japanese guy who was smiling broadly at the lens. I swear he wasn't there when I pressed the button.

But anyway... conversations.

1) "Oh no!.... Noooooo.... Oh no..." etc. All the way down.

This was this morning actually, I was late & forewent my usual stroll down the hill. The lady in question was looking at the front page of the World section of the newspaper. I had a look, but I can't figure out what the offending item was.

2) Pretty girl: "I've just been to listen to Dr Cullen present the budget"

Pretty girl's friend #1 "How was it? Anything for students?" there ensued several minutes of very comprehensive coverage of the budget. Then some banter that revealed that the three people conversing were political science students. All three...

Pretty girl's friend #2 "What is "The Budget"?"

Well it amused me. And it was yesterday.

3) Man to elderly german tourist woman just before journey began, "Hang on! It's like a roller coaster!"

Maybe you had to be there...

4) 6 very fat young women. Very fat. Talking at the top of their voices in a packed car:

"...so Brian came round last night & I f*cked him stupid"
"Yeah? Was he any good? I did Ewan last week. He was OK"
"Awww... I was going to do him, maybe I'll f*ck Jimmy instead."
"Jimmy's got a really big dick"
Etc.

The rest of the car was abnormally quiet & averting their eyes. I mentioned this when I got home & we had a little discussion about what was the ickiest thing about the whole incident - was it because they were loudly & graphically describing their sex lives in a crowded public place? Or was it because they were loudly & graphically describing their sex lives in a crowded public place & were all really fat & ugly? Would it have made a difference if they were loudly & graphically describing their sex lives in a crowded public place & were hot? And I chastised myself mentally for clearly being of the opinion that fat & ugly people should not even have sex lives.

To tell the truth, we came to no conclusion. But regardless, it was definitely icky.

McWTF?

Personally, I think that instead of getting on the health conscious bandwagon with the McCaesar Salads & McDeli Rolls or whatever they're called. McMumbles should be positioning themselves to a niche market who care nothing for such things.

Welcome to McDonald's New Zealand

I mention this, as I just toss away the wrapper & environmentally friendly cardboard box in which came my McLumpoLard with extra butter, fries, & diet coke.

IBM - one hit wonders!

So I dunno... it'd be Wellington, New Zealand, circa 1991.

I'm at work. The phone rings. I answer.

"It's your mum here."
"Hi Mum!"

"What are you doing tonight?"
"Depends what you've signed us up for"

"Have you heard of IBM?"
"(pause)... yes"

"I got a call from your cousin Alan, from the Forest o'Dean. He works for them now"
"Cool"

"He's here. They're playing at the university tonight and he'd like us all to come along & see them. He's their roadie."
"(pause)... let me just check the newspaper & call you back."

"Hi mum, it's me"
"That was quick"

"They're called EMF. They're kind of famous at the moment"
"Alan said that. I'd never heard of them"

"OK, we're in. What time?"
"He said 8pm downstairs. There'll be tickets for us with the bouncer. Do you know the Student Association building?"

"Know it? I lived there for several years"
"Well see you there at 8"

So we arrive... me & my wife. And we're met by my mum & my sister & her hubby. And I'm at least twice the age of the average fan there. My mum stands out, despite being tiny. Actually, we all stood out. It's like The Waltons came along that night...

And the bouncer has never heard of us... Mum says "Can we speak to Alan the roadie please?" The bouncer tells us there is no roadie called Alan.

"No, that's right" says mum "He said his name is Buddy now. He's got a pony tail."

So we sit tight as hordes of teenagers swim past us & up the stairs. We look especially hard at anyone coming down who has a ponytail. No-one pays us any attention.

Then this guy comes down, and he looks all around, right past us sticking out like... really old conservative people at a hip concert... and he's got a top knot that sticks up approximately 2 feet in the air. Suddenly recognition enters his eyes, "Auntie!" he shouts.

And to be fair... they were quite good, in a loud & obnoxious sort of way. the kids loved them. My mum & my sister lasted half a dozen songs, then mum fought her way to the front of the hall like she'd been doing it at Rolling Stones concerts for years, caught Buddy's attention, asked him to give his mum her love & told him they were off.

We stayed right until the end. Buddy caught up after it was all over. Gave me the drumsticks as a souvenir (which I still have actually) & bade us farewell.

I had to ask though: "Where are the drugs & the groupies?"
He laughed "They'll be along soon I expect"
My wife added "But we won't"

Darn it. Although on the way out some cute teenagers offered us a good time for the drumsticks. I declined & directed them back upstairs "Ask for Buddy, say his cousin sent you".

The best dressed dogs

This season's must have accessory on the dog circuit:
It's actually quite handy, because it's pitch black by 6pm these days, and dogs do disappear from view very quickly.... This particular model blinks two different colours & the effect is quite nifty. Wilma's model blinks green & red.

Dog owners who have not kitted out their dogs with a Pet Blinker (available from New World Thondon & Animates - please do let me know if you've seen them anywhere else) are so last year.

There are variations available - the mad Staffy Havoc has a fantastic blinking collar, that blinks a dozen or so red LED lights whenever he moves. You can get those from Cranfields.

Only problem is that the batteries do not last very long. So note to Pet Blinker manufacturers: something that either requires no batteries, or is rechargeable, or solar powered even, would be a good enhancement.

I'll keep you posted.

And while we're at it, a range of lit up dog accessories would be great - luminous tennis balls, luminous tug ropes... etc.

Have at it guys. I'll buy.

Who cares about Scotland? Wrote Mark Riley of London

This made me laugh. The BBC have just adopted NZ TV1 style weather graphics & received a "storm of complaints", most whining that the depiction of the curve of the Earth means the graphics emphasise Wales & England at Scotland's expense.

Some, however, praised the new graphics, including Mr Mark Riley of London who wrote in saying "Who cares about Scotland? It's always raining there anyway." Brilliant!

Many also complained that the graphics are confusing. And look, I have to agree, based on TV1's weather graphics, I can never figure out where & what the hell I'm looking at. Nor when - was this today? Yesterday? Tomorrow?

NZ Met Service developed & installed the system apparently (no offense J). And way to go the sale, but really, if it's like TV1... not that TV3 is any better.

STUFF : NATIONAL NEWS - STORY : Storm of Complaints over NZ BBC Weather

So... Scotland is the Northern Hemisphere's Chatham Islands? TV ignores the Chathams I think, but you can get their weather from Radio NZ. I always have to suppress a giggle when listing to the Nat Radio long range weather forecast. It runs about 15 minutes. I start listening intently. I tune out around about Whangarei, miss Weliington's weather completely & wake up just in time for "...and rain in the Chathams". In fact I defy anyone to listen to the entire broadcast.

The one exception to Chatham Island's weather that I can remember was December 31 1999. While the rest of the country was cloaked in cloud & rain, the Chathams were bathed in summer sun. Go figure.

A great hoax

Somewhere, possibly not too far from Palmerston North's Massey University, someone is shitting themselves.

Their's is not the great hoax. Their's is proof that there is a fine line between fantastic jape, and abject stupidity. And proof that Foot & Mouth disease does not come near the top of popular comic subjects in an agricultural economy like New Zealand.

But this is not their story.

In April 1999 it came to light that a 4.5 metre python skin had been found in Wellington's Botanic Gardens.

Pretty much everyone realised it was an April Fool's joke. Experts raised doubts - if there really were a 4.5 metre snake in central Wellington, neighbours bordering the Gardens would have noticed their cats & dogs & possibly children going missing. However, they said, to be on the safe side... if the snake existed, it would most likely spend its rest time wrapped around someone's hot water cyllinder.

The possibility caught the public's imagination. Snake hunts were organised through the gardens at night.

In May that year, Mrs Llew & I bought a nice sunny house just a few doors up from the gardens. I can admit now, that when inspecting the hot water cyllinders in that house, it was with some degree of trepidation. Mrs Llew had been warned that if I wasn't back in 5 minutes, and if a lot of noise indicating a mortal struggle was heard from the back of the house, she was to ring 111, and then bring me a large knife.

This, was a great hoax. A magnificent jape. And I confess to some disappointment when the news broke that it was indeed, not true.

Great Wellington Python Mystery Solved

The Full Monty