Tuesday, September 30, 2008
It's an article by Times columnist Carol Midgely and it starts like this, 'Sometimes I need only glance at the title of a book and immediately I hate the author. This is because it is such a brilliant idea that I wish I'd thought of it myself but didn't get round to it because I was too busy checking the Coronation Street website or wondering whether I should put another wash on.
It's the same now with Richard Wilson, whose new book Can't Be Arsed: 101 Things Not To Do Before You Die makes me want to kick my own backside around the room until it's black, blue and begging for mercy.
Why didn't I write this book?'
She then goes on to compile her own list of 'Can't Be Arsed - 29 Things That I Couldn't Give a Toss If I Never Did Again. Why 29? I couldn't be fagged thinking up 30.'
Mr T suggested I should compile my very own list which, naturally, filled me with glee. I am going to change the list a little to 'Can't be Arsed - Things I Can't be Arsed Doing - or Doing Again.'
So in no particular order, here we go.
1. GST returns. Help. Me. Someone. Every two months they drag around with monotonous regularity and it's only the thought of the fine that drags me to my desk to do it. Yes, I could pay someone to do this task for me (errm, possibly should pay someone), but it's a bit like eating your broccoli - I am sure it's good for me, somehow.
2. Eating chicken. I really can't see the point. I am mostly a fish and vege girl anyway but, if I have to, could you pass me the freshly dead lump of red meat. At least it tastes of something. Chicken - nup. I am sure this will be of absolutely no help to me whatsoever when I die and discover the afterlife is run by chickens.
'Please be nice to me, I didn't really eat you.'
'Yeah, only because you claimed we tasted like shite. You're spending eternity at Club Battery Farm.'
3. Being P.C about children's playgrounds. Why are schools insisting on wrapping playgrounds up in cotton wool so the wee darlings don't hurt themselves? Pur-lease. Let them learn how to fall. We did.
4. Being P.C about winning and losing for kids. If you come first, you win. Simple. If you didn't, you didn't win. Deal with it. My six year old niece recently came last at her cross country. She knows that if you're smallest in your class by at least three boat lengths, chances are you're not going to win the cross country. (She didn't care about coming last, the thing she was upset about was that she didn't win any points for her house, which I thought was beautiful.)
5.Bungy jumping. Never have, never will. Been offered free ones on many occasions but always gratefully declined. Call me crazy, but the thought of hurling myself of a bridge with an elastic band tied to my feet puts the fear of God into me. It just sort of goes against every natural instinct. And those screams you hear? The first screams are fear 'Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggghhhhhhhh'.
Loose translation, 'IamgoingtodieIamgoingtodieIamgoingtodieIamgoingtodie!'
The second lot of screams after the bounce?
Loose translation, 'IamnotgoingtodieafterallIamnotgoingtodieafterall!Iamtheluckiestpersonontheplanet,Icheateddeath!'
I really don't need to put myself through that.
6. Going to do exercise. So can't be arsed going to do it. However the feeling after doing it regularly drags my sorry arse off the sofa and out the door.
7. Seeing Mamma Mia. I have talked about the horror associated with enduring twenty minutes of this film, before. And I don't want to talk about it again. Please go away, memory. Delete, delete, delete.
8. Sleeping in a tiny wee ger, on the ground in deepest Mongolia, in the middle of winter with eight Mongolians, four of us and two mismothered baby goats. Never before has goat stew seemed so appealing. Those goats owe me a night's ( baaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ) sleep. It's lucky our hosts knew not a word of English and therefore had no idea what, 'I would like to wring those fucking goats' necks,' meant.
9. Eat/drink anything coffee flavoured unless it's hot and wet and just coffee. OtherwiseI don't get it.
10. Spend thirty-six hours flying (via three different countries) to a country because you have a deal with an airline, when there's a seven hour direct flight available with the competition. That is simply not fun.
11. Celebrate New Year's Eve. Admit it, the evening would be much more fun if it wasn't New Year's Bloody Eve.
12. Bored yet?
13. Saving the planet. Oh well, I will do my bit if I have to, but it's just kind of dreary.
15. Suffer through the political campaign before our next general election. We're faced with months of politicians' election promises. Please understand that Wikipedia defines a promise 'whereby the first person undertakes in the future to render some service or gift'.
I think election promises should be defined as , 'saying shit to make you vote for them, but with absolutely no guarantee of actually carrying them out.'
Okay, I will stop there. I've just seen the time and if I don't stop now, I could be here for days.
Tootle-pip. Please feel free to add to my list.
Monday, September 29, 2008
'Why? What was wrong with him?'
'He had cancer and he was eighty-three. Apart from that, he was fine.'
No prizes for who I was in that conversation. (The person not in possession of all the relevant information).
For me, Paul Newman will always be the guy in 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.' I loved that film, but it's one of those ones I am a bit scared to see now as I suspect that I will feel a little disappointed. It's a bit like candy floss - tastes great if you're a kid, but as an adult you feel like you are eating a sugar steelo pad.
I was a big fan of 'Raindrops Keep Falling on Your Head' and an even bigger fan of the Manic Street Preachers' version of it.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Even though television was available in New Zealand from 1960, the first time a New Zealand version was made was in 1984. Since then thirty-nine episodes have been made, featuring such luminaries such as Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, Sir Peter Blake , Sir Edmund Hillary, Peter Snell and Charles Upham.
And then on Sunday it featured racing car driver Scott Dixon, who this year has taken out the Indianapolis 500 and the Indy Racing League in the US ( for the second time, the clever clogs).
But there's just one thing.
Scott Dixon is, um, twenty-eight years old.
Shouldn't it have been called 'This Is Your Life, So Far'?
If I was Scott Dixon I would be thinking that having a programme like 'This Is Your Life' made about you at twenty-eight would indicate that the programme makers have a feeling that you're not going to be around for much longer.
'We'd better knock him off now, cause chances aren't high that he'll still be here when he's sixty.'
But he's not the youngest victim of one of these shows. Brit model Twiggy had one made about her when she was twenty. 'And what about the time when you were fifteen that you grew a metre in a week, but stayed the same weight as when you were ten?'
I have a theory on why she featured on a show that generally featured people above the age of fifty.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Other times your dingy loses its air, and it's no longer seaworthy.
Right now I am the proud owner of a deflated piece of rubber.
Might have to take up flying.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I know people will say I talking a complete load of crock, but I reckon they've been done good and proper.
So of those of you who don't live in New Zealand and haven't heard this story on every news bulletin for the last three days - they're embroiled in a milk scandal in China.
I understand that the word 'milk' before 'scandal' doesn't actually pack that much of a punch but if you add 'baby' into the sentence you'll begin to understand where I am coming from.
Two babies in China have died so far from having contaminated milk and, as of yesterday, 1253 children had been diagnosed with illnesses linked to the milk powder - with 340 still in hospital.
This has all been blamed on infant milk made by the Sanlu Group in the Gansu Province of China. Where does a New Zealand dairy company come into all of this?
It owns forty-three percent of the company.
What exactly was wrong with the milk?
It appears a couple of farmers who were pissed off after their milk had been rejected several times by the Sanlu group decided they would get their own back on the company by poisoning other milk they sold to the group.
I'm sorry but what evil, stone hearted, twisted mofos seek revenge on a huge corporation by poisoning babies?
I'm trying really hard to think of a more heinous crime, but I don't think it comes worse than any type of abuse of babies.
I reckon even the Devil would draw the line at that.
But get this, it's not the first time this type of thing has happened in China.
Hell no, in 2004 at least thirteen babies died and more than one hundred were severely malnourished after being given fake milk formula. In some cases the milk formula had little more nutritional value than water.
Even worse, the formula was sold to impoverished farmers who then started to wonder why their babies all started to develop what became known as 'big head disease'. What these poor people didn't realise was that their babies had big heads because they were malnourished.
What went through these people's minds?
'Hmmm, how are we going to make some money?
Sell fake bags to stupid tourists?
Rob stupid tourists?
I know! Strip nutrients out of baby formula and sell it to poor people who won't know any better. Genius.'
I realise that with a population of one point three billion, you are always going to get a few colossally poisoned apples but, let's face it, this mud is going to stick like cement.
After all, you shag one goat.....
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I have discovered two things.
1. When people tell you that awards functions are really quite tedious - they aren't lying.
2. When people tell you that 'it doesn't matter about winning, getting nominated is all that matters', - they are lying.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
And around the early 14th century it was recorded that in the Zhejiang province alone there was an annual manufacturing of toilet paper amounting in ten million packages of 1,000 to 10,000 sheets of toilet paper each.
On to it, those Chinese.
And what you really don't want to do is now go and read about the history of toilet paper on Wikipedia, cause it will just make you realise how spectacularly peculiar some of those who have gone before us have been.
I will never be able to look at a corn husk again.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
My cousin's husband reckons that if I'd been born fifty years earlier than when I was actually born, that I would have been locked up in a lunatic asylum.
The first time he mooted this idea was in his wedding speech.
I took it as a compliment.
Anyway, we were walking into a shop and the three year old, clasping my hand, told me very solemnly that 'This is a no touching shop.'
'Oh really?' I say.
'Yes, you're not allowed to touch anything.'
Then she chased that statement up with, 'Only the adults are allowed to touch things.'
I was about to say, 'So that makes me a...?'
But I didn't.
Cause just sometimes - it's best to leave well enough, alone.
Monday, September 08, 2008
I have been trying your cell and been waiting for you to return my text ....Please advise me if there is any change in your cell number etc as otherwise you are likely to miss out on work! I have a casting for you tomorrow at 4.40pm if you are a available???It is for a show on Sat 20th Sept. Please get back to me URGENTLY (by phone to save time).
It was swiftly followed up by this email (titled Whoops).
'Hee hee I might have sent that to you by mistake (unless you want to model for a swimsuit show)??'
There are many different aspects to my job, and it can be described in a number of ways but, let me assure you, swimsuit model is not one of them.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
The photo was taken right at the very, very top of a ski field on a gloriously sunny crystal clear day. The caption read, 'Work is a bitch.'
Text back from my sister, 'I used to like you.'
I suppose it was the digital equivalent of a postcard.
And we all know a postcard is effectively saying, 'I'm having a good time. You're not.'
I hate postcards.
Except when I'm sending them.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Tomorrow morning am off to seek out avalanches - or rather - set off avalanches.
Should be back Sunday - if I'm not - you'll know it's all gone horribly wrong (and please alert the authorities).
Heh. I just thought of what would be said.
'Excuse me Officer, but a New Zealand blogger has gone missing.'
'Could you please describe this person to me?'
'I believe she's rather short with a very short attention span.'
'Uh huh. Anything else?'
'She's pink. And has a flower on her dress.'
'So she is wearing a dress?'
'Yes, a triangle shaped dress.'
'And she has four fingers on each hand - and a crown.'
'And unruly hair.'
'And the last time she was seen?'
'Of course she was.Anything else you'd like to add?'
'Her grammar is horrendous, there are always typos - don't get me started on her apostrophes.'
'And you would like us to look for this woman?'
'Well, actually there is also a high probability that she isn't actually a short yappy type living in New Zealand as she claims, she could very easily be a fifty year old Scout Master living in the Yukon, I'm not sure, but that is who she claims she is. Anyway she's just gone missing.
'Oh well, that narrows it down.'
'Have there been any avalanches in New Zealand?'
'But could you help?'
'Her, mmm I'm thinking no, however your concern is rather sweet and I think we can help you. Do you see these people coming your way dressed in white coats? Don't you worry about a thing. Everything is going to be allllllright...'
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Why did you abandon the boat? You ask, it was a perfectly good boat, wasn't it? Well, the Sunshines are just made like that, a couple of weeks ago I got a text from my brother that read, 'Just ran 28k over the Coromandel range and then paddled 14km to Whitianga. Now drinking a deliiiiiiiiiiiiiicious Heineken.'
I text back, 'Didn't you have one in the fridge?'
Anyway, at the end of our walk back we were sitting, enjoying a beer looking at this bridge when a little old lady, who must have been about 345 in the shade, came over to sell us something. This generally happened a lot, but if you weren't interested you said so and generally they would bugger off.
Except this 678 year old.
She came up to us and said (which I imagine a loose translation would have been), 'Hey honkies you want to buy some oranges?'
'No thank you,' says Sunshine.
'Hey honky lady you want to buy some oranges?'
'No thank you,' says Mrs Sunshine.
'Hey honky other lady you want to buy some oranges?'
'No thank you,' says I.
'Hey honky boy you want to buy some oranges?'
'No thank you,' says Master Sunshine.
'Hey cute honky girl, you want to buy some oranges?'
'No thank you, 'says Little Miss Sunshine.
Did she get the message?
She went in for round two - again, loosely translating -'Hey honky man, good orange, buy them.' And that was followed up by a gentle nudge on the arm.
'No thank you,' says Sunshine
Then, 'Hey honky lady, good orange, buy them.'
'No thank you,' says Mrs Sunshine.
Okay, you get the picture. This continued for a while longer until Sunshine looked up at her, with a huge smile on his dial and said, 'What part of FUCK OFF do you not understand?'
Cue torrential giggles.
Even the 789 year old orange seller. She didn't have a clue what had been said, but she joined in on the fun.
Sunshine turned to his children, jabbed the air with a finger, and said strongly, 'Do as I say, do not do as I do.'
Which I imagine is what Sarah Palin is thinking right now, or maybe it's more, 'Do as I say, do not do as my daughter does.'
Poor kid, bet really she's wishing that her mother had decided to opt for a career in real estate.