Clearly, the bird has to go...

It doesn't get any more self referential than linking to your own post.

SunnyO: A no-brainer, surely?

But it occurs to me, with the weight of their audience entirely against a silly idea, the only thing left for Radio NZ to do is send the bird the way of Wayne Mowatt.

Does anyone remember a truly brilliant TV programme called Friday Night? Must have been on in the late 80s. On... Friday night oddly enough.

It was a - I don't know the technical term for it, which no doubt will exclude me from ever producing a TV show - a show which contained other shows within it.

A brilliant & funny guy called Alistair Kincaid fronted it & he & his co-hosts would tour the country in a beat up old station wagon (which was the prize in a competition of some sort), looking for, amongst other things, the best fish & chip shop in the country.

It also presented such overseas produced programmes as Red Dwarf, Jane (1940s period comedy in which the hottie heroine is engineered into situations where her clothes fall off), and several others.

it was smart & clever in much the same way as the later Ice TV was.

hell... I even stayed in on Friday nights to watch it.

So of course, it was canned in very short order & Kincaid has never been seen on our screens since.

Way to go TV people.

And a whipping was administered...

Netball 2005 kicked off last Saturday. M is the captain of her school A team, and since they seem to have gotten their acts together really early in comparison to last year, is also already selected & the designated centre for the rep team.

We have as yet, no idea when rep tournaments start, and suspect nervously that we might be spending our weekends in remote & half-arsed towns as soon as the week after next.

However, last weekend, at 9.30am, we were at Marsden College, in a half-arsed suburb, catching up with all the other parents, some we haven't seen since last season, while the girls warmed up, and their coach, Sunnyo's very own T, barked instructions at them.

We've got 3 very hard games (if last year's form is any indication - and it isn't necessarily, since many who played this grade last year, have moved on to college) up first. Luckily, we have a stronger team than last year. We're in with a chance. And the traditional 2 top teams... seem quite lacking in the height department. But we won't get too cocky just yet.

M's grandparents turned up to watch. They're very supportive, if a little easily distracted. Grandad spent the first 20 minutes marvelling at the Marsden College architecture, and the 10 minutes after that, engaged in conversation with Mark Blumsky* "Do you know who that WAS?" he demanded of his more attentive wife. "Of course I do... it was Blumsky!" she wearily replied. Later, he pointed out to me, at length, the awesome vista that are the hills above Karori. And then sought the opinions of all who were near on the results of the British elections (oddly, while his nephew is actually a Liberal Democrat MP for some obscure electorate in Cornwall, he didn't know how he had done (romped in). BTW: That Lib Dem's story is absolutely fascinating, but not really mine to tell... but I'll consider it for a future post. He is no relation to me.

Anyway, first opposition was up & to be frank, a whipping was administered. 33-14. A very good start to the season. T & I were very pleased, though M was critical of their performance. Prospects for the next few games were the main topic of discussion through the weekend, with several variations on Edna Mode's (I only just found out that it's not Edna Mole!) rousing speech from the Incredibles were voiced "Fight! Win!", with T asking "What's that from? How do you guys remember it?" And like, "It's the bit we replayed about 50 times?"

Rep practise is proving a difficult hurdle. M wants one of us to take time off work to get her from school to the courts. We have suggested she might like to get a bus from right outside the school gates to right outside the practise courts, and back.

"But you guys" she protests "This is my CAREER we're talking about!". To which we have replied "This is OUR careers we're talking about too!"

So I have a bag full of bus time-tables to pass on tonight.

* I hereby promise never again to link to anything on the National Party website

And one other thing!

I heard it on TV last night from someone who should know better probably.

And now someone here has just sent me an "invite".

It's "INVITATION", dammit! Verbs do not make elegant nouns (to paraphrase my English Lit 101 tutor, who, much to our horror, marked us down on grammar & spelling).

To be fair, creative use of the language might be acceptable if it's novel & witty, I'm prepared to wear "a la mode-ing" it. Just.

And formal disclaimer - if you spot anything ungrammatical on this site, it's either novel & witty, or a typo, so don't even think about mentioning it.

A no-brainer, surely?

You decide if that's the exec in question, or the decision to be made...

STUFF : ENTERTAINMENT - STORY : Chorus to keep birdcalls on National Radio

Anyway, not that I'm overly bothered, I'm not even up by the first play, and at work by the second.

In followup news, TVNZ to can Coro Street & play extra episodes of Celebrity Treasure Island.

Could the Auckland bus strike be settled like this?

The pizzas or your life!

STUFF : WORLD NEWS - STORY : Pizza delivery ends Australian prison siege

Forget the fries & the extra anchovies & the deal is off.

Baa baa bald sheep.

In unrelated animal welfare news...

I can confirm that a certain black sheep is still bald, but otherwise perfectly healthy.

An enormously sad moment...

Flying the Skoda (not actually speeding, I hasten to add, it's just so close to the ground that it seems like it) back to Welly yesterday. On that patch of motorway by the Taupo Swamp (between Pukerua Bay & Plimmerton.

We were in the left lane, fortunately, there was nothing in the right lane beside us.

Suddenly saw up ahead that a bird must have been recently bowled. A pukeko in fact. It was pretty mauled, with mangled wings sticking up.

And its mate was coming back onto the road to see what was the matter.

I missed it, but in doing so made sure that in the unlikely event the first one still breathed, I would have put it out of its misery. And the girls were wailing.... "Eeeeeeeee!!"

I don't give much for the live bird's chances after that, there was a lot of traffic. But I felt a fist grip at my heart as we sped past.

Do pukekos mate for life? What happens when one dies? In the unlikely event that this one got back off the road...

Current events #2

I don't want to make a habit of this...

But slap me silly & call me Aaron Batt... Aaron Bahtn... Aaron B... This guy... No offense... it's a figure of speech...

I was abandoned by a cat once.

In the mid 80s I was living alone & went & got myself two cute little kittens. One was a weird looking, finger painting patterned furry meatball I called Dougal. the other was a pretty little tabby I called Florence.

And we all lived happily through several flats, houses, girlfriends & a wife for many years...

Then the three of us were all alone again...

The two cats got on well initially, but as they gre older, Florence got a little more surly with her adopted brother & merely tolerated him. She was a good cat though.

But after about 10 years, I went to see the movie Se7en, which if you've seen it, is not the cheeriest movie ever made. So... I was not in the happiest mood to start with that evening. When I got home, Dougal was lying beside the garden path apparently asleep. So I gave him a nudge & he just flopped over. Panicked I picked him up, and the big furry meatball gasped & died in my arms. I don't know why. The vet said it just happens now & then.

I thought Florence would get friendlier after that, but quite the opposite. She started spending more & more time away, dropping by only to eat.

And then dropping by not even to eat, but clearly quite healthy & well fed. I did canvass neighbours, but no-one nearby was feeding her. I decided she'd taken up residence in some other home & left it at that.

She contined to drop by, but less & less frequently. After about 3 years, I was in another relationship & preparing to move. By chance, I'd sold my house to a colleague & asked him to look out for her & if she was looking abandoned & troubled, to give me a call.

He told me she continued to pass by now & then, happy, groomed & well fed. So I stopped worrying about her.

But I've always wondered if I did the right thing....

Current events

Is it just me? Or does anyone else think that marital relations between Mr & Mrs prebble are entirely the business of Mr & Mrs Prebble (and any extra personages who may have come between them).

I mean... Mr & Mrs Pitt are manufactured plastoids & therefore their marital relations are rightly classified as "entertainment" because that is their profession, and possibly such events are specified in their contracts, who knows? Also, they are HOT!

But Mr Prebble is a politician & the vicissitudes of his domestic life do not class as politics. Nor entertainment.

That said, if anyone knows who Prebs is rumoured to have been shagging, please email me (to avoid invoking any libel laws). Unless it's deborah Coddington, I just had lunch you know).

In further current event news... GO The 'CANES!!!

Great Mysteries of our time #2

Demi Moore's career.

All round disclaimer #1

Just because I label any post with the suffix #1, does not mean there will ever be #2. This is partly because I only ever blog whatever comes to mind at the moment (not actually true... I do write them up in the early hours, stockpile them & email them in now & then... sometimes... - BTW: this is my standard disclaimer within a disclaimer format - but hey, all means believe it if you prefer. Or if in fact, you are my employer, wondering what I do all day). And partly because I am really lazy. It's unlikely that by the time I get to #2, that I will remember what I've blogged about before.

Or possibly, if you insist on logic, it is because the numbers represent priorities, and the next #1 signifies I have reprioritised the importance of an event or fact in the context of the list (this is not, however, true).

That said... there have come into my possession further memoirs of a certain Wellington Street Preacher & his exploits during Gulf War #1 (Gulf War #2 may be the exception that proves the rule however). (Or not). Which may well be transcribed & posted sometime this century.

Just so we're clear on this.

While we're on the subject

That advertisement, where someone mentions "The legendary pie sandwich".

Has anybody tried one? Or is this one of those instant "legends" created in the advertising world.

Have to admit... chances are I will do it one day. Possibly just for the reaction it would get.

Llew's meals to impress men #1

The esteemed Public Address blogger may well be on to something. What this blog needs is clearly a recipe section.

Although Che's motives are obviously to help men get sex. So to balance the equation, here's one that... well... gives him the energy.
So an alround win-win situation IMO.

Note: Unlike Che's target audience, I will be assuming that women (or
men even) wanting to impress men have some basic knowledge of how a kitchen functions... for instance, how to boil water. Not that there is any boiling of water involved in this recipe. But by all means if you like boiling water, go ahead.

Dunno what it's called..

Gratuitously Blokey Pork & Apple probably covers it though.

Ingredients:

As many lean (or fatty - over to you really - check with your doctor
if unsure) pork steaks as you think the bloke will like. And one more
for yourself.

1-2 crisp apples.

As many bacon rashers as there are pork steaks. Or more if you feel like it.

A handful of chopped sage. Dried stuff from a packet if you must.

Method.

Core the apples, don't bother peeling them. And slice then into half
rounds, then lay them out onto a non-stick oven dish. Sprinkle with
the sage.

Wrap the bacon around the pork steaks, and place on top of the apples. Dust with pepper (let's be honest, the bacon will provide the salt (if in doubt, check with your doctor again).

Bake at 180 degrees for around 45-60 minutes.

Serve with oven fries, and vegetables or salad of your choice. Or if your target man is particularly blokey, baked beans into which a handful of chopped parsley has been tossed. Make him eat the parsley too.

Delicious.

Che Tibby's Meals to Impress Women

Public Address | Club Politique

I was going to reply to the blogger above with this. Because by my calculations, I only have a few dozen of the world's bloggers that I have not either replied to or left a comment for, left to bother.

Then I thought that I have nothing else to blog today & might as well share it with all.

Also, I WILL reply, but with a link to this page & then Mr Tibby may be obliged to pimp my blog. Perhaps. Or I may obliged to send an associate of my uncle Don Vino Ministrone round to him to make him an offer he can't refuse.

No, just kidding. I say that to everyone.

Now... I'm a great cook actually. Not only do I not expect cooking to make me a "homo", I expect cooking to make me a meal! (anagram of male - notice that?). Anyway - reminds me of some grafitti in the women's loo at the Victoria University Student Association - ground floor (was published in Salient, I wasn't actually in there reading it). ALthough a friend did have a look & confirmed it

"My mother made me a lesbian!"
and underneath someone had added:
"If I gave her the wool, can she make me one too?"

My wife is also a great cook. Although we have completely opposing culinary styles. I will look into the pantry & fridge & take note of what we have at hand, get out one large pot, and over the course of the next hour or so concoct a memorable repast. I do not consult recipe books.

My wife looks through approximately 2 dozen recipe books & decides upon the meal that most suits her mood. She then gets out the entire cupboard's worth of pots & pans & implements, and THEN discovers that we have only 2 of the 45 or so obscure ingredients in the house. At this stage, I am sent down to the local superette, which is the only shop, aside from the video store, open within a five mile radius, on the off chance they happen to have smoked paprika & galangal, amongst other things.

Ah.. now I've lost my train of thought.... Oh yes... going to flash restaurants & ordering the steak.

I did this on my 35th birthday, in possibly one of the nicest restaurants I have ever been in, in a fairy tale town in France called Carcasonne

We stayed in this castle! It's the old town & there is a newer town spread all around it. But the castle has hotels, and shops, and homes even. It's weird watching cars commuting to the city below driving over the drawbridge.

It is also where they filmed a lot of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. In fact those fairy tale pointy bits on the turrets were put up for the film.

oh... and there are restaurants there too.

So, for my 35th birthday, my first wife & her sister (told people we met that I always travel with a spare), took me to dinner.

There were two dishes that I really wanted to try in my time in that lovely country - cassoulet, and steak frites. This restaurant had both on the menu.

Sadly, none of the waiting staff spoke any English. And so in my schoolboy french I asked if it were possible for me to have the cassoulet as an entree, and the steak frites as a main. They nodded.

They also asked me if I wanted ketchup. I have already mentioned somewhere below that my strategy when confused is always to answer "oui". And from that moment on, I could pretty much see the thought cross the minds of all the waiting & cooking staff when they looked at me - "Quelle cretin".

But in my defence - if they're going to have it on the menu, and if they're going to ask if you want it... why get all superior?

The cassoulet arrived. And it was DIVINE! It was also enough to feed 15 people, and I could see them all watching me carefully to ensure I did the dish justice.

I invited my companions to try some. Invited all the other diners to try some. I was stuffed by the time there was only two thirds of the dish left...

And then the very best steak and chips that I have ever encountered hove into view. It was DIVINE! It was enough to feed 3 people. Unfortunately I was no longer in any sort of state to do it justice.

The contempt of the restaurant staff was no longer veiled. I slunk out & recovered about 3 days later... but I will never forget that meal.

Oh... and where was I? Oh yeah... Che, recipes for dum dums trying to impress or pull chicks need to have no more than 6 very common ingredients. Just my advice there.

But great idea actually, I will be watching & probably cooking with interest.

cheers

Although my chances...

of being nominated for awards might be improved if I admit that this, is me.

No wait... that was overly... sleazy... should I change it?

Nah....

Recent photo of the author at home

"Author" heh... gives me goosebumps... if I say so myself.

Great Mysteries of our time #1

The Olsen Triplets.

Have I blogged this before? I know it's an oldie that I've foisted on more than one person... but I never tire of it. And your kids will never tire of arguing with you about it. Trust me.

How come we never see more than two of them at a time? Is it the one with "food issues" we never see? And is that Mary, Kate, or Ashley?

Apologies if I've mentioned this - I did a quick search & couldn't see it if I did.

Meanwhile, I continue to be perplexed about which posts attract comments. And which don't. I've decided that comments are really just confirmation that someone, is reading this stuff. But anyway... Don't make me have to tell more shagging librarian stories!

Well then... if no-one is going to bite at the idea of Michael Jackson as the new Arnie... "Go ahead, make my day!" (OK, I'm well aware that that is Clint, get over it)

So how about giving Jackson the lead in CSI: LA? "Take a swab, Bubbles!"

You have to drink, every time his nose falls off.

Such a weird idea, it just might work...

Could Michael Jackson save his career by reinventing himself as an action movie star?

This idea (and others) tossed into the ring, run up the flag-pole, put on the train etc... by Vern in his review of XXX2

XXX2

Nicky Watson in knickers, lampshade & Free Huey.

You'll have to check the links within to see Huey. And Nicky.

Public Address | Yellow Peril

This is Tz Ming Mok from Public Address & IMO, she totally rocks.

No idea who Huey is. Or why s/he/it is free.

UPDATE: I consulted the author & Huey Newton is/was a Black Panther "Minister of Defence" jailed for voluntary manslaughter after an altercation with some police officers.

Also... while I'm at it... if such events do occur in Wellington, can someone please get me onto the invitation list?

Tall tales from another century

I came across an old flatmate on the web a few months ago (did a quick search, after another flatmate wondered what had became of him). I made contact with this august gentleman, now living & working in the Middle East & there followed a flurry of nostalgic emails as we reminded each other how reprehensibly we behaved a century ago...

And today, out & about, I saw a woman who featured in one of those nostalgic reminscences...

Warning: I will be taking off at tangents as I tell this story. Try to keep up.

I don't know what year it was... 1982 or 83 perhaps? I flatted with 4 others on the 9th & 10th floors of a city council flat. It was an awesome place. 4 bedrooms & a bathroom upstairs, a master bedroom, lounge, kitchen & 2nd bathroom downstairs. And a sizeable balcony running along the front of the place.

We spent a lot of time at the Southern Cross Tavern. In fact, one flatmate got himself a job there & is now happily married with 4 kids, to our regular barmaid...

And so we decided to hold a tequila party. I think tequila was decided upon because... well who knows why actually, probably because we saw it as the quickest way to obliterate ourselves.

Invitations made it clear that ONLY tequila would be consumed on the premises. Although the first guests to arrive brought copious bottles of THE red wine of its day Fairhall River Claret, and made an impressive start on this. Which in retrospect - red wine followed by tequila - was a mistake.

I'm starting to feel queasy already...

Anyway, the red wine drinkers were a bunch of women of my acquaintance. One I went to school with & always harboured a crush on. Her best friend, was also at the time, my on & off girlfriend. I was never really sure if we were on or off until the end of any given evening we were together actually. Accompanying them were a tall, attractive librarian (who may or may not have settled down eventually & spawned a daughter called Natalie), and another woman called Josie, who was pretty, and skinny, except that she sported what I shall obliquely refer to as one of the great briskets of her time.

More guests arrived, mostly from the ranks of a very bad rugby team I played for. We were possibly the most motley & worst rugby players to ever take the field.

At some stage early in the evening, Josie asked if she could have a guided tour of the flat. Josie usually came equipped with an overly cool & haughty looking boyfriend. But this night, he wasn't in evidence.

I showed her the downstairs bedroom first, which was not my room. She exclaimed "What a fantastic bed" and launched herself onto it, bouncing up & down.

And to this day I regret that I didn't think "So what if it's not my bedroom & my off & on girlfriend is in the next room, and where's her boyfriend anyway?" and get on the bed with her.

But there you go. I didn't. The rest of the tour was a non event, as was my acquaintance with the attractive Josie, my bed was not bounced upon by anyone & shortly thereafter we were back downstairs.

Whereupon, the librarian asked if she could have a guided tour. And of course gentleman that I am...

This time we got right past my bedroom & into that of another flatmate. At which stage the librarian began casting off her clothes & womanhandling me across the room.

Naive & innocent that I was, I fled downstairs to see if I still had a girlfriend. And she wasn't fazed at all, joking even "my tour of the flat didn't take that long".

But in fact, her initial tour of my flat took much longer. On about our third meeting, she & I had gone home from the Cross... and well... actually, the visit might have been shorter except that in one of those magnificent Wellington coincidences, she had gone downstairs in the middle of the night to get some water, then came bounding back up in a panic to whisper "My ex-husband is asleep on your couch!". And it turned out that my flatmate's boyfriend (NZ Chunder mile Champion at the time) had been best man at her wedding several years before & his mate had come to our place with them to crash.... So in fact we were stuck in my room then (bummer) until this guy & my flatmate's bf had left, sometime late the next day...

Back at the Tequila Party... my Middle Eastern flatmate, who was there with his girlfriend, was halfway up the stairs chatting with other friends, when a naked librarian descended, grabbed him by the arm & dragged him upstairs.

All we knew in the lounge was that someone upstairs was making a hell of a lot of noise. Later, when we pieced the whole story together we realised that first of all a bedroom was trashed, and then they moved to the bathroom, attempted to have a shower together & flooded the 2nd floor. Then they regained the bedroom & passed out.

Meanwhile, in the downstairs bathroom, his unsuspecting, and very intoxicated girlfriend was leaning over the toilet bowl feeling very unwell & introducing herself to one of our rugby comrades who was doing pretty much the same thing.

These two later married, but I wasn't invited to the wedding, possibly because I would have told their parents how they met.

At the end of the evening (not long before dawn), the girls turned their attention to what we were going to do about the librarian & how we would get her home. On inspecting the 2nd floor, we realised pretty much what had transpired & the one sober person present (the Southern Cross barmaid who had been working that night, not drinking) offered to take her home.

But we couldn't find her clothes. So we ended up dressing this woman in a mix of my & my flatmate's clothes, then he & I bundled her into his girlfriend's mini & off we drove to Miramar. And there, we sneaked her into her parents house & left her comatose on the couch dressed in men's clothes.

The next day, we did find her gear, spread all around the flat & in different rooms... & I put them all into a shopping bag & decided that I'd drop them to her at the library on my way somewhere else. When I got there, I asked another librarian if she was in today "No, she phoned in sick" was the unsurprising response. So handing a bag full of clothes, including underwear, jewellery & watch over the counter I said "Can you give these to her when she comes in next? She left them at my place last night."

Always kind of proud of that moment :) The librarian did cross my path again on a couple of recreational occasions, but she never, ever mentioned this episode.

Never saw Josie again as far as I can remember, with or without her haughty boyfriend. My off & on girlfriend was mostly off after that. My school friend, on whom I harboured a crush, and I never managed to both be single at the same time, although I do run into her & her family now & then.

And things in the flat were quiet for a while after.

Until we decided to hold a Home-made Sake party...