wikidknickers

On blogging and budgets…

// February 17th, 2012 // No Comments » // dirt on the author

It’s been so long since I wrote a blog post that WordPress has gone through like..3 new versions since I last checked. I really do think about things to write about all the time…I’m just so cognisant of the fact that there are all these zillions of well meaning little people out there pouring out their hearts or vomiting rhetoric (depending on what mood I’m in) onto the giant spiderweb…I really don’t want to end up as one of those people.

But then, I have to give them credit…at least they don’t lie on the couch till all hours watching ‘How I met your mother’ and think about blogging, they actually love something enough to write about it, even if that thing is their baby (RAAALLLF), their cooking (RAAAAAAAAAALF) or Justin Bieber (click…BANG). Till now I’ve seen that as self-indulgence, and maybe tomorrow I will again. But maybe the way we talk to the world has just changed, pure and simple. Perhaps your average blogger just has it right – the blog is a therapist and a set of peacock feathers all rolled into one.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, really…I lost a contract today with a bunch of guys I’ve been with for a while now and I’m really kinda sad about it, even though I knew the end was inevitable. Being sad has made me thoughtful, which is always a dangerous thing. This could really turn into a rant about being a wage slave and the gut-wrenching nausea I feel when I realise I can’t just get up and leave any time I want to…that those days came and went (wasted) in my 20′s. Now medical bills, vet’s bills and mortgage payments loom with sickening regularity toward the end of every month, and there never seems to be just that little extra I would need to set by so I could blow this joint for a month or two. What force of nature stops me from just selling the house for a year off in Greece? Inertia? Laziness? Fear? Ask Shirley Valentine, I guess.

Seeing as this has been my first bloggy blog in over a year, I’ll leave it at that, and of course include a joke below (because who really reads the writing anyway) courtesy of the latest meme infecting facebook (and if you don’t know what Cthulu is, you are banned from this blog till you read some Lovecraft).

SUPERFAIL

// January 5th, 2012 // No Comments » // geek stuff, humour

Nuff said, really.

While I really hate Flash*, I think it would be a good thing for Adobe and Apple to dry their legs and become friends again, so we could play nicely with this horrid programme.

*Note, I don’t hate THE Flash**

**Yes, I KNOW there are a mix of Marvel and DC guys here geekdudes, and if you get whiney, you are showing us the dark, aspergersy, buzzkilling side of geekdom.

That is all.

Life in the Australian Army…

// July 18th, 2011 // No Comments » // humour

I could not resist posting this email my mum sent me…

The text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. (For Those of you not in the know, Eromanga is a small town, west of Quilpie in the far south west of Queensland ):

Dear Mum & Dad,

I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin’ on the farm – tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don’t hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No bloody cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack – nothin’!! Ya haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there’s lotsa hot water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there’s no kangaroo steaks or possum stew like wot Mum makes. You don’t get fed again until noon and by that time all the city boys are buggered because we’ve been on a ‘route march’ – geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the back paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for shootin’ – dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a bloody possum’s bum and it don’t move and it’s not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target – it’s a piece of piss!! You don’t even load your own cartridges, they comes in little boxes, and ya don’t have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes yagotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy – it’s not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.

Turns out I’m not a bad boxer either and it looks like I’m the best the platoon’s got, and I’ve only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers – he’s 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I’m only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin’ wet, but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can’t complain about the Army – tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how bloody good it is.

Your loving daughter,

Shelagh

STATING THE OBVIOUS

// July 9th, 2011 // 1 Comment » // humour, politics

Having worked for politicians, I can assure you that regardless of who they are they can’t be trusted – on either side of the fence…they all really have the same goals in mind and those goals are usually found in the general location of their wallets, egos and underpants.

HOW THE WORD BOOB WAS INVENTED

// June 9th, 2011 // No Comments » // humour

Dedicated to all the engineering geeks I know and love, because only an engineer could have come up with this one…

Oh my HAT!

// May 11th, 2011 // No Comments » // humour, random madness

For the uninitiated and/or haters of royal weddings, this post is about a Hat. A Hat of such bizarre and astronomical ugliness that it provided enough ammunition to keep the fashion police in business for at least the next decade. It is about the Hat worn by princess Beatrice to the royal wedding of Prince William to Kate Middleton, which once and for all quashed any notion that being upper class implied actually having class.

I deliberately delayed posting this in order to give the meme factory a while to ferment the plethora of ideas which must, by nature of the craziness, arise from the Hat, and spit out the best and most hilarious results.

That said, the Hat ruined the royal wedding for me in some ways because, like walking in on your boyfriend’s parents having sex, once you saw it, you could not unsee it.