In the future I will know I've had too much to drink when Soju starts to taste good.
Karaoke evening in Wellington with my brother & sister-in-law this week. We hired a private room at the Korean BBQ on Willis Street. Now Karaoke is more fun when a little tipsy - however, my first taste of Soju was an instant "Oh this is awful". After 3 hours (and I dread to think how many bottles and ill advised songs) Soju was GREAT!
Until we got up to leave and found that walking, and keeping down the evenings meal was no longer possible.
J & I could do one or the other, but not both in conjunction.
Soju = pure liquid evil
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Criminal Intent
I'm driving with my Mum back into Wellington the other day. As we head towards Porirua we pull up behind a BMW.
Mum immediately comments that the car could be stolen. I ask what has drawn her to this conclusion.
"Well, the car is dirty. Normally a nice car is kept clean, but that one is really dirty. So, it's most likely that the vehicle has been stolen."
I really need to make sure my mother never sees my car. She'll be handing me over to America's Most Wanted For Crimes I Didn't Commit with unfailing logic like that.
Mum immediately comments that the car could be stolen. I ask what has drawn her to this conclusion.
"Well, the car is dirty. Normally a nice car is kept clean, but that one is really dirty. So, it's most likely that the vehicle has been stolen."
I really need to make sure my mother never sees my car. She'll be handing me over to America's Most Wanted For Crimes I Didn't Commit with unfailing logic like that.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
When wrong is right
Mother turns 10 minute drive into 30 minute tikitour of Wellington beaches.
Ms. G. Philips, mother of 4 sons, took a wrong turn on the way to 'The Chocolate Fish' in Scorching Bay, Wellington New Zealand on September 19, 2007.
While making a u-turn at a dead end on a hill in Wellington, Ms. Philips (after asking for directions) remarked "This is the right way to go" prior to making the next 4 lefts to get out of the hills and back down to the coast.
Ms. G. Philips, mother of 4 sons, took a wrong turn on the way to 'The Chocolate Fish' in Scorching Bay, Wellington New Zealand on September 19, 2007.
While making a u-turn at a dead end on a hill in Wellington, Ms. Philips (after asking for directions) remarked "This is the right way to go" prior to making the next 4 lefts to get out of the hills and back down to the coast.
I think your dipthong is hanging
I'm in New Zealand at the moment. I've had a rather good facility for various accents for as long as I can remember. Well, born in Oz, raised in NZ, lived in Brunei & the U.S., traveled to the U.K. - I've had a rather good dose of English in all it's various accents & disguises. Which makes the following all the more disturbing.
I answered the phone the other day at my brothers house, and the conversation went something like this:
"Good afternoon" - me
"Hi, is J there?" - dude on the other line
"No, I'm sorry he's not. Would you like to leave a message?" - me
"Sure - tell him that Noel from La *@##$$#Hc called. His loats are ready to be picked up." - dude that just id'd himself as Noel. (I was unable to catch the company he worked for...)
"Loats?" - me
"Yeah, loats. There's one box of loats, and they're ready to be picked up." Noel
"A box, of 'loats' are ready to be picked up." - (very uncertain) me
"Yeah, his loats, that's right. Cheers mate." - Noel
I'd repeated the mysterious word as I had heard it to him and after I got off the phone, "loats, loats, loats...." and I still had NO idea what loats were. Now, J, my brother is building some houses. This means it's quite possible that this is some new building thing I hadn't heard of before.
J came home & I gave him the message. Unfortunately J didn't know any Noel, and had never heard of loats either. As I hadn't gotten a number or the name of the business he was a little stumped.
Over the next hour or so he figured it out.
It was Noah, from Wellington Light & Electric who'd called, and his lights were ready to be picked up.
I answered the phone the other day at my brothers house, and the conversation went something like this:
"Good afternoon" - me
"Hi, is J there?" - dude on the other line
"No, I'm sorry he's not. Would you like to leave a message?" - me
"Sure - tell him that Noel from La *@##$$#Hc called. His loats are ready to be picked up." - dude that just id'd himself as Noel. (I was unable to catch the company he worked for...)
"Loats?" - me
"Yeah, loats. There's one box of loats, and they're ready to be picked up." Noel
"A box, of 'loats' are ready to be picked up." - (very uncertain) me
"Yeah, his loats, that's right. Cheers mate." - Noel
I'd repeated the mysterious word as I had heard it to him and after I got off the phone, "loats, loats, loats...." and I still had NO idea what loats were. Now, J, my brother is building some houses. This means it's quite possible that this is some new building thing I hadn't heard of before.
J came home & I gave him the message. Unfortunately J didn't know any Noel, and had never heard of loats either. As I hadn't gotten a number or the name of the business he was a little stumped.
Over the next hour or so he figured it out.
It was Noah, from Wellington Light & Electric who'd called, and his lights were ready to be picked up.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Miss Marple, you're needed
I heard a scratching sound this evening, coming from the vicinity of my back door. With the recent opossum trouble around my place I quickly paused my Miss Marple mystery on my mac and went to investigate.
Los Angeles is currently in the grip of a 7 day heat wave. I had been doing chores outside earlier today, and had been taking a bit of sun. About mid afternoon I’d run a cool bath and had submerged myself in the poor mans pool for half an hour. The nights are still muggy and tropical, so I’d left my water in the tub and was planning to throw some ice in there later on and get back in. That way I could go to bed cool for once this week.
One bad thing about living alone is that currently Miss Marple is in my Netflix queue, and watching murder mysteries alone at night causes mysterious scratchings coming from where they shouldn’t to end up sounding like murder or something just as ominous.
Anyway, I make it to the bedroom door, and see a massive puddle and trail leading from the bathroom towards the front door. Luckily there was no body, and no need of a spinster detective to solve what had happened.
My cat Artemis had decided he’d like to lie on the cool porcelain bathtub surface, so he’d jumped in my tub – not realizing that it was quite full of cold water. The scathing had been him frantically clawing at the smooth porcelain surface in order to lift himself out of the water. Finally gaining a purchase he’d flung himself out of the tub, and was trying (unsuccessfully) to walk with a quiet dignity to the front door. His little legs, normally so fluffy were quite bedraggled as was his fine puffy tail. His staggering water-logged gait made him seem a bit like an old drunk man, vainly trying to walk a straight line for an officer when he’s being arrested for disorderly conduct. The puddle trail zig zagged as he’d made his way to the door where he was sitting waiting to be let outside. For all the world trying to make it look as though this had been his master plan all along.
I don’t think he liked me laughing at his misfortune.
I'm betting it's cold comfort to him that I had intended to give him a bath today, anyway I bet he’s cooler than he’s been all week.
The crime scene
Through the kitchen
One pissed off cat
Los Angeles is currently in the grip of a 7 day heat wave. I had been doing chores outside earlier today, and had been taking a bit of sun. About mid afternoon I’d run a cool bath and had submerged myself in the poor mans pool for half an hour. The nights are still muggy and tropical, so I’d left my water in the tub and was planning to throw some ice in there later on and get back in. That way I could go to bed cool for once this week.
One bad thing about living alone is that currently Miss Marple is in my Netflix queue, and watching murder mysteries alone at night causes mysterious scratchings coming from where they shouldn’t to end up sounding like murder or something just as ominous.
Anyway, I make it to the bedroom door, and see a massive puddle and trail leading from the bathroom towards the front door. Luckily there was no body, and no need of a spinster detective to solve what had happened.
My cat Artemis had decided he’d like to lie on the cool porcelain bathtub surface, so he’d jumped in my tub – not realizing that it was quite full of cold water. The scathing had been him frantically clawing at the smooth porcelain surface in order to lift himself out of the water. Finally gaining a purchase he’d flung himself out of the tub, and was trying (unsuccessfully) to walk with a quiet dignity to the front door. His little legs, normally so fluffy were quite bedraggled as was his fine puffy tail. His staggering water-logged gait made him seem a bit like an old drunk man, vainly trying to walk a straight line for an officer when he’s being arrested for disorderly conduct. The puddle trail zig zagged as he’d made his way to the door where he was sitting waiting to be let outside. For all the world trying to make it look as though this had been his master plan all along.
I don’t think he liked me laughing at his misfortune.
I'm betting it's cold comfort to him that I had intended to give him a bath today, anyway I bet he’s cooler than he’s been all week.
The crime scene
Through the kitchen
One pissed off cat
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