I Blogged Myself

Why do you always come here? I guess we'll never know. It's like a kind of torture, To read this blog, y'know.

Welcome to the most sensational, inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational blog since Kermit left just a little bit of the swamp in his pants.

Friday, September 30, 2005

Ahoy There, Nutbags!

I don't mean to go all 'Seinfeld' on you, but what's up with Pirates recently? It's like they've all decided to come out of the woodwork at once and scare us all with their frilly blouses, sparkly jewelry and long curly hair, etc.

First, it was International Talk Like A Pirate Day last week. That's the official day when pirate nerds like these people:

... try to look like this guy:

... but invariably end up looking like this guy:

... or possibly this guy:

Hey, at least they're having fun. And we've managed to restrict their craziness to just one day per year. (Unless they start up their own blog, of course!)

Then, Triple M in Melbourne had 'pirate' as their code word of the day the other morning.

And then there was this item in the news two days ago.

In case the link is removed shortly, I've reproduced the article here:

"Billion-dollar pirate treasure trove found. From: Correspondents in Santiago. September 26, 2005.

"TREASURE hunters believe they have found a legendary trove of 18th century jewels and gold coins worth billions of dollars on Chile's Robinson Crusoe island.

"The island in the Juan Fernandez archipelago, 700km west of Chile was a refuge for corsairs crossing the Pacific Ocean.

"Legend has it Spanish navigator Juan Esteban Ubilla y Echeverria stashed a fortune on the island in 1715.

"It was later found by a British sailor Cornelius Webb and reburied in another area. An expedition using a metal-detecting robot believe they have pinpointed the site."

The late night news item I heard on this the other night actually said it was "pirate's treasure" that'd been found, and that the supposed finders weren't going to say where it was until the government (who claimed it was all theirs) agreed to give them half of the spoils. Sounds like we've got the makings of a real-life action movie here! Fight it out, dudes!

A couple of things I notice about the above article, too, before I proceed.

(a) They used a metal-detecting robot. I don't know about you, but all my robots at home are only good for cleaning up around the house, fixing the car, and one has the ability to turn back time (so I suitably and tastefully dressed it as Cher from the music video of the same name). None of my robots are able to detect metal. I want one of those. It'd be really handy when I lost the remote, or dropped a paperclip under the couch, etc.

(b) What was this idiot Cornelius Webb doing finding the treasure only to re-bury it somewhere? Are we to expect he never came back for it? Maybe he was killed for his secret ... and maybe it's a pile of hogwash. If I'd found billions of dollars worth of jewels and gold coins, I might pretend to have buried it somewhere as well. (In fact, that's exactly what I did. Just don't check my bank balance. Please.)

(c) Who has a middle name which consists solely of a lower-case 'y'? Crazy Spaniards!

Anyway, back to all the Piratey news of late. Elaine must be giddy.

Are you, Elaine? Huh? Are you giddy?

I'll take that as a yes.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Meet Wifey

Blogsphere? Wifey.

Wifey? Blogsphere.

I thought it'd be good to properly introduce you guys, seeing as neither of you is terribly familiar with the other. You're both great, though (and yet you each have your faults, as well. For example, Wifey's too gorgeous).

For all you bloggers out there, I've taken a leaf out of Kranki's book and created an animated version of Wifey. This is she:

See? Gorgeous, huh? Told you so.

And Wifey? Because you need to know what the average blogger looks like, here's a realistic example:

Note the lack of pants, which is essential for any blogger who logs on from home. The alternative to this is the blogger who accesses the blogsphere at work. In this instance, they look very much like any other professional, except for that cagey look on their face as they post comments and hope not to get caught by their supervisor.

In a future post, you'll all get to see an animated version of me. Look forward to that one.

*Make your own female caricature here.*
*Make your own male caricature here.*

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Puppet Injustice - Part 4

Most of you may know (or at least recognise) Beauregard. Here's a really small picture of him (sorry, it's the only one I could find).

He was an amusing character, created in the later seasons of The Muppet Show, and he was the janitor of The Muppet Theatre. He was exceptionally stupid (or maybe I should call it 'simple'), and had superhuman strength. Good natured and friendly, but easily perplexed, Beauregard is a background character most people remember seeing on the show (or in the Muppet movies).

But I don't think quite as many people will remember The Muppet Show's original janitor, George.

As you can see, he had googly eyes and a kind of perpetual frown. He was the grumpy janitor in The Muppet Theatre during the early seasons, so unless you're a big Muppet fan or have recently been watching the DVD release of the first season, he may not be as familiar to you. He had a husky voice and was either mopping (and moping) around backstage, complaining about something or other, or he was featuring in the "At The Dance" skits where couples cracked one-liners while ballroom dancing. George's dance partner was Mildred:

A nod to the British TV show George & Mildred, perhaps? It's quite likely. But I digress.

Beauregard (or 'Bo', as the other Muppets affectionately called him - although I always felt it should be spelt 'Beau', but there I go digressing again) is a great a character, and I personally prefer him to George, but this is still a Puppet Injustice.

I'm not sure if George being replaced was ever specifically addressed on the show - I guess time will tell as all seasons come out on DVD and I watch each episode in order. But I know one thing; George knew how to mop up floors and grumble to himself while he was at it. Where else could he get a job where he got to clean up after people and was allowed to whinge about it?

Well, the answer is here. I have it on good authority* that George spent his declining years cleaning the pavement outside the front of that establishment. There was always plenty of celebrity 'mess' to clean up each morning, and many people who'd pay to listen to him complain about it. Mostly cheap tabloids.

George passed away on Halloween 1993, when he was mobbed by tourists trying to get close enough to the body of the latest celebrity to die there on the curb.

He is sadly missed.

But apparently, not by the Muppets.

* Which I just made up.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

My Claim To Fame For Today

International readers won't get anything out of today's post, sorry.

In fact, neither will interstate readers.

This one's just for Victorians, I'm afraid. (But don't let that put the rest of you off. Victorian readers will be just as bored as anyone else ...)

Brace yourselves for this Earth-shattering fact:

You know the recent Nova FM TV commercial, where Hughesy, Kate & Dave visit 'Meredith in Balwyn' about the angry email she sent them complaining that Hughesy was singing that irritating advertising jingle "Mama's making Kantong" so they brought over a whole choir of singers dressed in racially offensive Asian garb to sing it at her house ad nauseum?

Well, I know Meredith!

(Pause for dramatic gasp from audience.)

She went to my school and we knew each other semi-well for a while there.*

That is all.

Send all requests for autographs to:

c/- Post Office Box 1
In your capital city

* I could try to 'prove' it by telling you her surname, but that wouldn't actually prove anything and might only lead to her being stalked, seeing as you'd all be able to use her full name to find her address easily enough ...

Monday, September 26, 2005

Muppet Question # 5 Answered

Adam asked me the following question almost a month ago:

At Monday, September 05, 2005 6:05:14 PM, Adam said...

Why do you like the Muppets so much?

Well, Adam, thank you for asking. (And my apologies for the tardiness of my reply.)

I suppose the simple answer is because I have always loved them, and it takes me back to my childhood, and I still find them adorable/funny/clever/an escapism today, and because now that I know so much trivia and stuff about them, they’ve become ‘my thing’. People see the Muppets, they think of BEVIS.

But let’s look into each of the above ‘reasons’ a little more closely. Let’s scrunitise the logic a bit. As the highly-regarded female philosopher B. Ohn-Say once sang, ‘Break it down, now!’

1) I have always loved them – a fairly simple statement; as if written by a simpleton, in fact. A totally self-contained phrase that doesn't really tell us anything useful.

2) It takes me back to my childhood – well, so do chocolate sundaes, but you don’t see me setting up whole blogsites on the topic, do you!*

3) I still find them adorable/funny/clever/an escapism today – congratulations, sad sack. Maybe you need to get away for a while. Or get out more often. Or get a life, even. Retard.

4) I know so much about them, they’ve become ‘my thing’. People see the Muppets, they think of BEVIS – this is possibly the cheesiest and most ridiculously arrogant and self-involved thing I think I’ve ever said. What a tosser! I'd let down my tyres in the car park, if I were you.**

Yep, I’m in a bad mood with myself at the moment, and I’m not even sure why. OK, yeah – it’s Monday and I’m tired and I could be out there being fun and wacky, but instead I’m sitting at my desk, blogging myself, and I have a meeting in a couple of hours that’s sure to put me to sleep.

Adam, I guess you got your answer, anyway. Because I’m a very sad case indeed.

But I suppose being sad makes me happy, because even in this dark moment, I still think of the Muppets and feel myself being filled with happiness and joy. They're very good at doing that. So I like them. Much.

* I think I'll do this, actually. Good idea!

** No, not you, Riss. Because you actually know which car is mine.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Kranki-Pants Has Some Explaining To Do

What's going on here, Kranki?

Something you need to tell us? Some distant relative, perhaps?

Is the young woman your sister? A cousin? Is it Penny?

And does that make the older woman your mother?

What's with the title of the post, anyway? That's just sick!

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Covering Off On A Few Things

Alright, I've got a few loose ends to tie up here.

1) The cops thing: I'm not underestimating the devastating situation that was at play on Sunday night. A guy was killed, and at the time I had my little conversation of joy with the grumpy policeman, the killer was unaccounted for. It was a dangerous and upsetting time. I get that, and I wasn't trying to be flippant about a serious situation. (No one has told me off for this, but I wanted to qualify my previous post with the above statement.)

2) Snowballs: This person threw one at my window the other day and scared the crap out of me. She is evil and likes to kill kittens. So why were there snowballs outside my office window this week? (Note to our overseas friends - it's not winter down here.)

3) Talk Like A Pirate Day: I've Talked Like A Pirate on Talk Like A Pirate Day for four years now. But this year things overtook me and I was too caught up in 'Stuff' to give it the due time it deserved. I Talked Like A Pirate once on the day, though, so it wasn't a total waste. But compared to the previous few years when 80% or more of my Talking has been Like A Pirate, this year seems a little weak. That's why I left the Talk Like A Pirate Day post to Elaine*, who knows more about these things than I ever will. If only they created a Talk Like A Muppet Day, then everyone could defer to me and I could be the guru of All Things for a day, and that'd be cool.

4) The Swans beat St Kilda! (And you can see why - the Swannies are an impressive bunch, as that photo shows.) Ha! to you all. That is all.

5) My earlier post about jobs: It was interesting to see how many people were being serious, and how many were having a bit of a laugh. I reckon the ratio's 9:5, with 2 or so giving a mix of both. But I've only glanced quickly through those figures, so they aren't necessarily accurate.

6) Well done and thank you to Little Faerie, who was the 1,000th visitor to my blog (at least since I installed the counter). You win my respect (Muppet-related and otherwise). I can actually vouch for her claim, as I was the 1,001st visitor, and saw her comment come in. Plus, librarians don't lie. At least not unless they're whispering.

7) My heartfelt apologies to Adam, to whose Muppet question of about a year ago I am yet to reply. I swear it's coming soon, dude, not that he probably cares anymore. (If, indeed, he ever really did. *sniff*)

That's about it. The above is a messy jumble of thoughts, but hopefully you either waded your way through it, or you didn't. Meh.

* Although I did know what landlubber means, when I left a comment on her site on Monday. I just don't think my sentence made sense. I was putting piratey words into a sentence, not necessarily directing them at anyone.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

It's The Cops - Look Busy!

Two nights ago, driving home at around 9pm, I noticed that the power was out all along the main road that leads to the back streets that lead to the street my house is on that leads to my driveway that leads to my house that leads to my bedroom that leads to me getting some action sleep.

Suddenly, I was faced with two police cars blocking the road, lights flashing and two cops directing traffic down a side street (in the opposite direction to where I eventually wanted to go).

May it please the court Your Honour, I must point out that I was in a perfectly good mood and wasn't grumpy or tired or hungry or anything. What transpires was not in any way exasperated by any poor behaviour on my behalf. (At least not at first.)

Let me set the scene a little for you: There were two cars in front of me and no one behind me. The first car pulled up to the cops, wound down his window, and spoke to them, pointing up the blocked-off road for a minute before the cops nodded and let him through. Clearly this meant that if you were a resident who lived up there, it was OK for you to drive your car through. As I was also a resident who lived 'up there and off to the left a bit', I figured I'd ask them the same thing and see if it they let me through as well. (You'll need to know that for some reason, they were standing on the opposite side of the car to the driver's side window.)

The car in front of me went off to the right as directed, so I pulled up to the cops - in exactly the same way the guy two in front had done! - and wound down my window. However, as one of the cops moved away to talk to traffic coming out of the road I was being directed down, the other approached my window and snapped - viciously angrily, by the way: "Now why wouldn't you get out of your car and come to me instead of making me come around to talk to you?!"

He was so angry, he was almost spitting at me in rage and fury. Seriously, the above sentence was said as harshly as I've ever heard anyone speak without actually yelling. This guy was ready to kill someone. Bear in mind here that my crime had so far consisted of me doing the same thing I saw the other car do; wind down my window (and I was perhaps also guilty of conspiracy to breathe).

I was stunned, and found myself saying, "Pardon?", which angered him further because he had to repeat himself. If anything, he managed to ask the question in an even-more-furious tone, slowing it down because he'd clearly encountered a real dunderhead in me.

"How about because stopping the car in the middle of the road and getting out to talk to you would have been possibly the most ridiculously stupid thing I could have done?! How about because you're the one on your feet and giving directions to drivers in their cars? Have you considered that it's because I just saw you give directions to the person two cars in front of me? Or how about because it's your job to protect and serve the community? Hey, I know - what about the fact that something has clearly gone down here and the lights are all out, and me leaving the security of my vehicle could be a dangerous decision to make? What if I was a bad guy, and approaching you would put your life at risk, as well as my own when you and your mate decided to shoot first and ask questions later? And who's to say that I'm even able to walk around to you? Just because I'm driving doesn't mean I have full motor control of my legs and am able to walk unassisted! What a silly assumption to make, that I would even be able to walk over to you, ya meathead!" Those are just some of the answers that sprung to mind, but I decided to stay quiet.

In the instant that he'd spoken to me, however, my mood had immediately darkened at being spoken to like this for no reason at all. I let his words hang there for a moment, allowing his incredible rudeness to drift in the breeze for a second, before saying, very sarcastically, "Riiiiiiiiight ..." Then I raised my eyebrows as if to say "Whatever, moron - as I was about to say before you so rudely interrupted me ..."

But he mistook my dramatic pause for stupidity (as stupid people often do), and spoke over the top of me as I started to ask if it would be OK for me to continue through the road block, as I lived up there a little. I actually got no further than, "I was just wondering ..." because at that point he snapped, equally viciously to before, and spat at me, "What is it you want?!" over the top. I gave the same raised-eyebrows expression (this time signifying to all those in the immediate vicinity with a brain larger than a pea - which meant only myself, unfortunately - that I couldn't believe this guy was still being so rude, despite the obvious incident a mere second ago where he came across as an absolute tool and was now only embarrassing himself), and continued, despite the apparent resistance to logic and reason emanating from my uniformed companion of the night.

I repeated, "I said I was just wondering if it was possible to go in this way, as I live not far up there."

"Well, where exactly do you live, mate?" His tone on the word 'mate' was not meant to signify mateship in any way. If it was, I'd hate to be the best man at his wedding. He'd probably beat me up by way of making a speech.

I told him the street I needed to turn down.

His disgust was even more evident that I had dared to answer his question (asked about specifically where I lived) by telling him specifically where I lived. Clearly he didn't want to know that! How dumb was I to think his question should be taken literally? He obviously meant for me to say something he could understand, like 'yellow' or 'puppy' or 'doughnut'. His face almost broke into a sneer for being subjected to such imbecilic behaviour.

"And where's that, mate?" I was starting to get worried that he and I were becoming too close as mates and would end up swapping phone numbers - this guy was seriously scary.

"Er, just past the row of shops," I told him, trying to be helpful to the nice man with the big gun and the volatile temper. His evil satisfaction at hearing these words was instantly apparent. His eyes said 'I told you so' and he pointed down the detour road to the right.

"No, well you've got to go down here, because this way is blocked off at Campbell Street, which is just before the row of shops." I wondered if he was making it up just to spite me. Probably. I don't remember ever seeing a Campbell Street before.

Despite being put off by the cop's disgusting rudeness and the way he was speaking to me, I was happy to accept that I couldn't go through the road block (that's all I wanted to know). However, being the stirrer that I am, and now being so off-side with this guy's approach and attitude, I decided to push the envelope a little. He deserved it.

Pointing down the street to my right, and acting like I suddenly didn't know the area very well, I asked him, "So where does this go?"

The beautiful thing was, a fire engine (no sirens blaring, but still with a very loud motor) was arriving at the intersection at that moment from the direction I was pointing, and he didn't catch my question due to the noise behind him. It pained him to have to do it, but he had to ask me to repeat the question. Just then a car approached from behind me.

I asked him again where the street went. (I mean, if he's telling me to go down the hill to the right, he needs to be able to tell me how to get back up around the hill again to the left, ahead.)

He didn't know, but he made a point of indicating that this was my fault. His answer was non-committal and extremely unhelpful. If I didn't actually know my way down that street, I would have been in trouble. There's a weird dog-legged section to the street that will take me in the wrong direction if I don't know where I'm going. Add to that the lack of street lights in the area, and he really could have been sending me off on a confusing rabbit warren of back streets and side alleys. Thankfully I was just acting unsure to stir him up for being so rude.

The other cop walked over at that point and snapped at 'my cop' * - equally angrily - "Get him outta here, he's holding back all the traffic!" No wonder my poor little coppy was being so rude - the other cop was talking to him in total anger as well! And 'all the traffic' I was holding back (just the one car, which had been waiting there for approximately 1.3 seconds - less time than I'd waited behind the two cars when I first arrived at the scene myself) needed to get moving in a hurry!

So, as 'my cop' snapped, "Move along, now, mate", I replied (overly-sweet and sarcastically-pleasant), "OK, thanks for your sparkly personality and oh-so-helpful attitude!" and took off with a screech of my tyres that said, "Eat this, impotent coppers! I'm taking off at high speed and there's nothing you can do about it because you're stuck back there, directing traffic in the dark!"

Power to the people, etc.

On my detour, I happened to pass a smashed car that had taken out a power pole (the cause of the power outage in the entire area, presumably), and three or four other police road-blocks (directing traffic that was coming the other way, but not stopping me from heading where I was going). I made it home safely and quickly, but not before passing a speeding ambulance with the lights flashing, and another fire engine heading in the opposite direction. Thankfully, the power was still on where I live, so I was able to watch Law & Order: Criminal Intent and see the wonderfully clever policemen capture the nasty, stupid bad guys. Go coppers! They're my heroes. They keep me safe at night.

As a result of being spoken to in such a disgracefully inappropriate fashion, I was in a bad mood for about an hour. It wasn't until the next day that I heard the news:

Read this article, this article or this article.

But it wasn't my fault. The cops I encountered may have had a bad night, but the way they spoke to me (and presumably other drivers as well) was inexcusable. I hadn't even spoken yet when he initially bit my head off. Should I have apologised to them that someone had to go and get killed and spoil their night? **


I have plenty more bad police stories where this came from. This is just the most recent.

* I call him 'my cop' because by this point we were very close and I was feeling somewhat paternal to the cuddly fellow.

** I'm not saying the police have an easy job and it's not distressing when someone is killed and the killer may potentially be on the loose out there in a blackout. But showing more rudeness than I've ever encountered before for no legitimate reason is another matter entirely.

Monday, September 19, 2005

So Much To Say; So Little ... Brain ... Thingy ...

There's just heaps I wanted to cover today, but there's no way I'll be able to do so. Here's a quick run-down on what I would have liked to have mentioned today:

1) It's International 'Talk Like A Pirate' Day;
2) Kranki has some explaining to do;
3) I had a run-in with the cops last night and they made me very angry;
4) The Sydney Swans beat the pants off St Kilda on the weekend;
5) I hate it when snowballs - yes, snowballs - are thrown at my office window in an attempt to scare the crap out of me;
6) There's a Muppet Question I am yet to answer;
7) I wanted to follow-up on the previous post, in regards to people's jobs vs dream jobs;
8) Plus more hilarious images I found online.

So what's it going to be? Which one should I post about first? Let's take a poll.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

What's Your Calling?

OK, I'm bored. Very few of the blogs I regularly visit have updated anything yet today. Not this one*, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one, nor this one. What’s going on out there?!

This one has, though. And so has this one. So it’s not all bad.

And then there’s this one, for which I can never see a date. But I’m sure that’s my stupidity, not hers.

Please see the disclaimer below.**

So I got to wonderin’: What do you all do during the day? And then I got to wonderin’: What do you all wish you did during the day? I don’t mean ‘sleep-in a lot and eat junk food’ – I’m talking about what actual job you wish you had for a living.

So in the interests of public opinion***, I was hoping whoever reads this would please leave a comment below, stating:

a) Your actual job

b) Your dream job

What do you do from 9am to 5pm (or whatever your ‘regular’ work hours are)? And what legitimate job do you aspire to do?

If you’re fortunate enough to already have your dream job, kindly sod off. (Not really – good on you, I’d love to hear from you too.) But otherwise, let’s all naval-gaze and see how close (or otherwise) we are to getting to where we want to be with our occupations.

I’ll start:

a) Web editor

b) Writer, actor, film maker, copy editor.

And you?

* OK, while I was creating this post, this one was updated. But I’m not changing my links now. It took too long to set up!

**These ‘update status’ reports are likely to be inaccurate by the time you check them. But as I composed this post, this is how many had been updated.

*** ie. I just want to know.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Muppet Question # 4 Answered

Elaine asked me the following question a little while ago:

At Wednesday, August 31, 2005 10:45:56 AM, Elaine said...

Do you have a favourite Muppet episode?

(I like the star wars episode)

Well, Lainey, thank you for asking. I must say I haven't thought about a favourite episode before. Certainly I've thought about the episodes that kind of disturbed me as a child, such as the one where the show was taken over by pigs, and to be frank, the Star Wars one was another that jarred with me.

Without meaning to sound disrespectful, allow me to point out why:

(I was quite young when I watched it, so bear that in mind as you read.)

The Muppet Show had its own sense of ‘reality’. The premise was always that a real personality from the entertainment industry would guest star on this televised theatrical variety show being put on by a band of freaks and weirdos, so that was fair enough. However, when the Star Wars ‘cast’ guest starred on the show in character, they committed the unthinkable sin of combining one fantasy world with another, thereby cheapening both. If this was to happen on a TV show like Charmed (bear with me here), and characters from M*A*S*H were to guest star, I hope you’d see how it would destroy both ‘realities’.

Perhaps a better example would be if the characters from Seinfeld had appeared in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s called jumping the shark, and generally signifies when a show has underestimated its audience and offended them by presuming they’re not intelligent enough to notice such a drastic changing of gears, storywise.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have anything against crossovers (if done well). For example, when Buffy the Vampire Slayer had crossovers with Angel, it made perfect sense. Both shows are set within the same ‘universe’. It makes sense. Let me say that again. It makes sense. But a series of science fiction films set ‘a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away’ crash-landing in a modern (at the time) variety show hosted by puppets went completely against the grain for me. Even as a kid I knew it was wrong.

I’m not saying there aren’t similarities between the two – both have puppet monsters and feature Frank Oz doing essentially the same voice for Fozzie / Yoda, but there’s a difference between two shows having similarities, and two shows belonging to the same ‘universe’. It was a shameless promotional scam and they took full advantage of the Frank Oz connection to publicise the film - which grated with me.

I also knew that in one of the fantasy worlds in question, nobody comes to any lasting harm, but in the other, death and injury are constant and serious threats. Suddenly I felt that the Muppets were in legitimate danger and it troubled me.

Yes, I took it all too seriously (and still do), but the point is, as an impressionable young child, these are the things that struck me and that I've carried with me into adulthood.

Whenever I see aliens crash-landing into a theatre now, I always find myself fretting for the lives of the monsters and talking animals made of curtain material who are running a dodgy televised variety show inside. Then I remember that I’ve just taken some rather strong drugs, and I relax.

But getting back to Elaine’s question, if you will allow me a chance to review the first season’s episodes on DVD (which I am about a quarter of my way through), I will give you my favourite episode from Season 1. Then I can list my favourite episode from each of the five seasons as they are released on DVD, and at the end of this process I’ll be able to determine my all-time favourite. I don't feel like I've seen them all recently enough to answer you conclusively at this point.

For now, though, let me say that the John Cleese and Gene Kelly episodes always held a special place in my heart. Right next to all the cheese I’ve stored away in there over the years.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005


The bane of my existence. I'm home today with one. I get them semi-frequently. They're almost second nature to me. I hate them.

I think it's time all migraine sufferers stood up (shakily), raised one hand to shield the light from their eyes, used the other to grip the bucket they have with them (just in case), took a deep breath and whispered, "What do we want? Aspirin! When do we want it? Always!"

Gotta go back to bed now. Wake me when the jackhammering outside my house has ceased.

... What do you mean, 'there isn't any'?

Hmm. It must all be in my head.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Hey, You Can't Park There! - Case File # 2

'Hey honey, d'ya wanna drive down to the river?'

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Most Underrated Jim Henson Flick

I bought The Dark Crystal on DVD the other day for a fantastic (ie. cheap) price. I hadn't seen it in years, and I have to say that for the time it was made (1982), the effects are astounding.

Sure, it's still a case of sometimes-wobbly, sometimes-unconvincing puppetry reminiscent of the time, but all things considered, it's very well done.

I remember seeing it as a kid, knowing that it was by Jim Henson & crew, and I guess expecting to see my beloved Muppets. I know this much - I was hugely disappointed with it. It wasn't what I expected at all and I didn't like it one bit. I think I was still in that 'everything should have a sickly-sweet Hollywood ending' stage, which I'm happy to say I have well-and-truly grown out of now.

Not that The Dark Crystal doesn't have a happy ending ... the whole movie was just to weird for me at the age I was, I guess. Anyway, my point is this: The film is grossly underappreciated and deserves to be looked at anew, with fresh eyes. If you can't get your hands on a fresh pair of eyes, use your current eyes. But 'do yourself a favour' and take a look at it sometime. It was never my favourite film as I grew up, but I have a new appreciation for it and how well it was put together.

There are rumours online (I won't link to them because online rumours shouldn't really be encouraged until they can be officially validated, in my opinion - if you know that this has happened, please let me know) that The Dark Crystal 2* is going to be made within the next 12 months. If this is true, I think there's a great chance that it'll be an amazing film (and, as with any sequel, there's also a huge risk that they'll spoil the whole franchise, which I hope they don't).

(Edit: Actually, as an afterthought, I've decided that I will link to this page on the sequel.)

So get behind the original film, and let's hope a whole new generation can enjoy this creative masterpiece.

* I think the full title they're looking at using is The Dark Crystal 2: The Search For Spock. They already threw out the early suggestion of The Dark Crystal 2: Billy Turns Evil ... & Hosts The Worst Oscars Ceremony EVER!

Friday, September 09, 2005

I'd Love To See This For Real ...

This is pretty funny. What would have passed through this woman's mind when she was putting on the helmet?* I mean, for goodness sake!

* No jokes about 'the pavement' being the last thing to pass through her mind after she crashes!

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Hey, You Can't Park There! - Case File # 1

Care to go 'parking' with me?

I know I'm very liberally 'borrowing' from a post one of my blogger friends posted a couple of weeks ago, but these pictures amused me so much, I plan to show them gradually over the coming weeks. It'll give me something to post on the quieter days, and hopefully make you smile.

I'm not going to imply (like the original site does) that any particular gender is responsible for all of these ... rather, I'm going to assume that it's a series of terrible attempts by some poor misguided souls at parking their vehicles.

For example:

'Hey, Jessie - apparently there's no fee to park here, because it's some kind of "free - way"! Let's go shopping! Tee-hee!'

Alternative (and much better) captions for each image are invited.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Another First Birthday

Good friends of mine have a lovely little daughter called Jophesine, who is fortunate enough to be turning ONE today!

She really is a gorgeous little bundle of giggles and laughter and smiles and happiness and joy and contentedness and love and peace.

I'm not the only one posting about it. Check here, here, here, here and here.*

This isn't Jophesine, but it looks a bit like her:

Happy first birthday, Jophesine. May you have a fantastic day and be raised in absolute happiness by your adoring parents. I wish you a wonderful life.**

And I hope you get to have your cake and eat it too.

* OK, so they were all the same link. I wanted it to look important, because it is. How often do you turn one year old? (No, really - my Maths is terrible. How often?)

** Because I was too cheap to actually get you something practical, like a present. You'd better get used to that, unfortunately.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Birthday Party Wrap-Up

Stuff it. I'm not waiting around any more for the photo of my birthday cake from the friend who took it and has not yet sent it through. I'm updating you all on the wonderful birthday I had - even though it was a few weeks ago now.

First, you should know that Wifey has never met my work colleagues or boss. And living in Melbourne, as we do, means I'm far away from my family, all of whom live in Sydney.*

It should be noted here that there's a very good reason for this. My family moved to Sydney when I was in my final year of high school. One day I came home from school and discovered that they'd moved. I don't know what that says about me. Feel free to leave theories.

Anyway, my birthday (Friday, 19th August) started out like any other day. Dreading somewhat having to go to work on my birthday (particularly as it was a Friday - although at least I had the weekend to look forward to), I got out of bed when the alarm sounded and hopped in the shower. Wifey had gotten up before me and was in the dining room studying (she's a part-time student), but this was nothing new so it didn't give me cause to suspect anything.

After getting dressed and whatnot, I went over to wish her a good day before leaving for work. She kissed me, said happy birthday, told me to have a good day, and then watched me walk all the way to the front door before calling out:

"Oh, I almost forgot ... you're not going to work today."

She had to say it four more times before I believed her.

Yes, she had (very sneakily) retrieved my boss's mobile number from my phone at some point a month earlier, and made secret arrangements for me to have the day off as a surprise!

What a woman.


Ahem. Anyway, about five minutes later I got the usual 'Happy Birthday' phone call from my parents, before they themselves headed off to work up there in Sydneyland. That was all very nice, and they thought it was a lovely surprise Wifey had arranged for me. They said they hoped I would have a good day and they'd see me at Christmas (our next planned trip up).

Then the doorbell rang.

Bear in mind this was still 7:45am. Any guesses as to who was at the door?


It was my parents. And my brother. I've only briefly mentioned my brother once before, in reply to a comment someone left a while ago. This is my brother:

Yes, he's a drummer.

Anyway, they'd travelled down from Sydney, as per Wifey's surprises, to spend the weekend with us both. (And in case you're wondering, as I don't see much of my family since they abandoned me to this wintery-weathered state, I enjoy spending time with them. So this was a nice surprise, as opposed to what some of you may have been imagining if your partners had sprung a visit from 'The Olds' on you.)

Anyway, we all had a long, hot breakfast of bacon and eggs, croissants and stuff like that, before heading out for the day. Then the presents started coming in. There was also a birthday party on Saturday night, as I've already mentioned before, so the presents really stacked up.

All of them were appreciated, but because this blog is Muppet-themed, I'm going to list the gifts that stuck to this theme.

As you might already know, Riss, her husband, and our as-yet-photo-withholding friend got me this:

But what you don't know is that Wifey got me this:

... which is extremely rare and had me VERY excited.

CBomb, who works with me here at the office, just turned up with a legitimate, 1977 impossible-to-find 60 piece jigsaw puzzle of this image, which she found for 50 cents in an Op Shop, but called it a late birthday present - and excites me because it is also extremely rare:

In fact, it's so rare, that I can't even find a photo of the actual puzzle box anywhere on the entire Internet! And the Internet easily has over a hundred different websites in it! Imagine!

I also received a couple of Muppet birthday cards, money from my family to buy a special 'display cabinet' for all my Muppet busts, and stuff like that. It was mega-cool.

Happy Muppet Birthday, me!

But you know what? I'm not the only one celebrating an important birthday this year. Read this article to learn more about one of my favourite pal's birthdays, and how it's intended to be celebrated.

Note to all who know me: If one of the 50 stops around the world is anything even remotely 'local', ... I want tickets!

... And I'd be happy to receive all those DVDs for Christmas! ...


* Which, for the non-Australians or just generally the geographically-retarded amongst you, is ages away.

Friday, September 02, 2005

A (Not So) Concise History Of Captain Derrington Q. Dingbat, Jr - Part 1

I was asked by John B. ... er, I mean Lt Harrington Blunderbust, to provide some of Captain Dingbat's backstory, and with the Captain's kind permission (which I intend to seek later), I am happy to announce that this is the first installment in what I hope will be an enlightening and captivating journey throughout the life experiences of Captain Derrington Q. Dingbat, Jr.

I won't necessarily be providing these snippets of his life story in chronological order, but I figured that it made logical sense to start my first update at the very beginning of his life, as I have it on good authority from a sugary-sweet, inexplicably-singing nun from some mountainous country during some long-ago war or other, that it's a very good place to start.

Born three-weeks premature in 1934 to a Swedish mother and half-English, half-German, half-Polish father, Derrington Qwerty Dingbatski II was a miracle child. His parents were holidaying in Mt Buller when 22-year-old Olga Inga Ikea Dingbatski went into labour*, and she was so surprised, she nearly fell off her skis. Luckily, she was able to complete the downhill run she had embarked upon, and it was a good thing, too, as they wouldn't be able to get their money back no matter what their excuse was.

As it was, Derrington Senior managed to convince his wife to travel back up the mountain, as they had one final lift pass to use before it expired the following week, and her husband was wise enough to know that they wouldn't be able to use it again in the days that were to follow. Always a quick thinker, was the Captain's father.

No less than two hours later, Derrington and Olga were packed up and on the road back towards Melbourne, where Derrington had insisted they use their traditional family doctor for the birth. Olga had been of two minds about this, partly because she wanted a midwife instead, and partly because the family doctor was actually a 'spin doctor', and the closest he had come to anything even remotely medical was selling non-prescription drugs behind his mixing desk at rave parties on Saturday nights at Jooce Nightclub.

Unfortunately, Olga's contractions started getting worse, and Derrington Senior was forced to pull over and lay Olga down by the side of the road. The difficult thing about this was that they were still up in the snowy area of the mountains, so Olga was lying in three feet of snow. Not the most comfortable of positions, and the situation was made worse when her waters broke and promptly froze the surrounding snow to her body.

Children being what they were (and oftentimes, still are), Derrington Jr was too impatient to wait around for long, and within four-and-a-half minutes his father was happily bouncing the lad on his knee, and holding the newborn above his head as he ran laps around the car, rejoicing - which caused Olga even more pain, as he had omitted to cut the umbilical cord first.

The next day, Olga found herself in labour again,** and little Derrington Jr was left in the care of his Nanny, as he would be many more times to come over the years, and about whom we shall discover more in another installment.

Here endeth the lesson.

Today's chapter of Captain Dingbat's Life Story was proudly brought to you by:

* This doesn't mean she was instructed by her husband to go into the workforce; it means she actually started having contractions.

** This doesn't mean she found herself having contractions; it means she was instructed by her husband to go back into the workforce.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Not So Much Funny As Tragic

I've been holding off on posting this for most of this week. At first, I didn't think it was in good taste, but then I realised that as long as I'm respectful, there's nothing wrong with it. Perhaps this will explain why I haven't gone out of my way to be humorous these past few days.

The HR Manager at my work (who I've rarely seen eye-to-eye with, it must be said) suffered a terrible loss last Friday. Depending on where you are in the world, you may have heard about a fatal hit-and-run accident that happened in Melbourne last Friday night. The parents were later seen on the News, crying, asking the driver to please come forward. The HR Manager at my work was the father of the 20-year-old who was struck and killed.

Actually, forget the word 'accident' in the above paragraph. I don't care if the actual collision was an accident. I'm talking to the cowardly killer behind the wheel, here. In my book, by driving off and trying to avoid the repercussions of what you did, you have officially lost the right to use the word 'accident'.

As I said before, the HR Manager and myself aren't the closest of people here in the office. But all that ceases to be important when faced with the tragic and terribly-irreversible loss he has been forced into by the selfish, stupid, possibly-drunken act of cowardly behaviour that some stranger has perpetrated on him and his family. What a waste.

I hope the driver is wracked with guilt. Not for any sick 'revenge / serves you right' kind of karma thing; I just hope it leads to the guilty party eventually being unable to live with the knowledge that their actions caused the death of an innocent young man and they turn themselves in to the police.

A whole circle of family and friends have had their hearts ripped out in this situation. Once by the ridiculously-avoidable death of this 20-year-old, and then a second time by the driver having taken off and left him to die. It disgusts me.

We could start comparing this one death to the millions who die from war and starvation, etc, each year, but that would be detracting from the tragedy this man I know is going through. And the additional tragedy that the person responsible for it is still out there somewhere, hiding. It would be inappropriate to start comparing an apple to a truckload of oranges. I'm not talking here about the biggest injustice I've ever heard of.

Just the biggest tragedy to touch my life in the last seven days.

And I certainly wouldn't want it to happen to me.

Turn yourself in, you coward.