rants and rumbles

Sudden Ascent; Jolty Descent 

In following one of my, perhaps /more/, bizarre brainwaves, this update is being written (pen on tft screen) at somewhere around 30 000 feet, having spent a week in the Eastern States doing exactly what every normal holiday go-er doesn't; study. Woe betide me and the ever joyous 'big 1-2' (year twelve). Since when has anybody spent 3 hours every holiday-day (see what I did there!) studying... damn 99.95 playing hard-to-get.

A big Q-movies logo tempts away, spinning every now and then. I figure I'll survive sans subjecting myself to some awful airline bilge; if only they'd play a decent movie for once... 300 perhaps. Then again, they'd have to censor it so much it'd hardly be worth it; I can imagine 'THIS ... IS ... SPAR-TAH' repeated non-stop for the rest of the flight might become somewhat repetative, although I'd still rather watch that a few thousand times than the God-awful flick they are showing presently. This line of thought presents a lovely idea: a new film classification system;  regular (vis-a-vis 300), straight-to-dvd and the all new straight-to-qantas. (ie the only way anyone will watch it is if some all too happy stewardess tells you to do up your restrainer ('nice and firmly'), so one is literally forced to watch).

I'm ever aware of circumstance humour, that is for example, how comedy written whilst completely pissed at 3:00am is only really funny at 3:00am whilst completely pissed (and often not even then), so if anything seems only remotely humourous, try reading at somewhere around 30 000 feet, being subjected to qantas-bilge advertising, qantas-bilge-movie bilge and qantas-bilge braised beef that tastes suspiciously like qantas-bilge chocolate mousse. I don't know about you, but that makes me smile. Perhaps it's just the altitude. Either way, I'm going to have fun editing this later tonight at my natural, habitual height. Or maybe I won't. If you can read this, then I couldn't be bothered crossing my i's and dotting my t's (despite such action really, really being needed, might I add).

One could be forgiven for thinking that I despise qantas, but that isn't the case. I do, in fact, enjoy the whole flying experience (that's why I'm going to France next year; not the food, culture or language; it's the radioative braised beef!). The negativity stems from the, uh... well, you try to think of something better to write up here.

Forever inscribed in my mind is the fantastic evening spent last night at a live show by Rod Quantock, one of Australia's best political satirists, who openly admits that should Howard lose this coming federal election (all fingers crossed!), he'll be out of a job. From absolutely tearing apart our ex-Immigration Minister ('Well, Venice is sinking.  So who do we send to be our embassador?'), to explaining how he fantasises about one Mr Howard becoming the new-new Pakistan cricket team coach, Quantock was lively, insightful and absolutely, damn funny. Did you know: there are 5 verses in the new 'patriotic' song by Ms Vanstone; a song that took her 6 years to write. Proclaims an extatic Quantock, 'that's 27 days per word! This song must be pure gold!'.

Friday night was also one to be cherished; Austen Tayshus in The Merchant of Menace. Despite Austen's shocking treatment, I doubt many people left the 'sh*thole of a theatre' feeling sorry for the 'dumb, lonely f*cking c*nt with no life' in the front row. ('I'm sorry, I shouldn't say 'lonely''). As my friend, the late Pope John Paul said, "Ugh......... uh.... uh ...... uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..............ugh".

Looking up, I've noticed the film is Freedom Writers, and now I'm wishing I had perhaps waited before judging; it looks semi-decent, although I'd still like to see Lyonidas' vocal chords at work.

I'm guessing a have another hour or so left up here, so I'll probably call it a day in a very short while, but not before I leave you with a few parting observations.
•    aircraft are an amazing microcosmal experience. From the kind, smiling middle-aged man next to me to the immediately-identifiably snobbish man next to him, to the young family in front of me, the old lady to my right, the young lady on my left, and the elderly businessman playing on his Sony Vaio in business class, whom I passed on my way to the 'washroom' (no, the ever classy qantas calls it a 'toilet'; how uncouth!), every sector of society gets a representative, except for those without the access to a ticket, or someone else providing a ticket (ah-than-goo). I realise that last sentence is grammatically incorrect, but I really can't be bothered fixing it. Do it yourself.
•    The West (no, not that West) really sucks in comparison to its closest (haha) neighours.
•    "You're so f*cking far away Perth, why don't you just f*cking keep going." - Chopper Reid

I'm sleeping the last 20 minutes of this flight. It's been fun.
Bye for another unspecified, elongated period of time.

An hour, as it turns out.
My guess was an hour off. So after a little sleep and the last 15 minutes of Freedom Writers, we're going down soon. I'd recommend the last 15 minutes of said movie to everyone; it was very powerful, butone neeedn't see the beginning, it's easy enough to fathom.
For anybody not interested in movies, little sleeps are good as well.

Oh my, seatbelt light is on, plane is going down, and the stewaresses are doing little motherly checks. Deeeeceeennnnndiiiii
bye!

Les Vagues de Février/ My attempt to crack the French children's poem market

En milieu de février, les petites fourmis ont

construit leur petite maison de sable

avec deux portes, un chemin jardin

et même une petite fourmi-table.

Elles ont travaillé pendant plusieur heures

pour construire leur petite demeures

Autant dire que les fourmi-hommes ont travaillé

beaucoup plus que les dames; car ils sont beaucoup mieux. *

Mais le problème avec cette petite maison

c'est que c'était fondé sur le sable doux;

Normalement ça va bien pour eux,

mais pas ici; ces fourmis étaient foux! #

Tu vois, ces petites fourmis ont

fait leur chez elles très près de la mer

Donc le lendermain, la petite fourmi-maison

était détruite!

                                ... par les vague de février.

* sorry to all feminists; I needed something to rhyme with 'demeure'

# artistic license; sure, it should be 'folles', but THAT DOESN'T RHYME.

So, it's been a while. And according to some fancy piece of code, all 7 million readers have been dying to read more. Hyperbole aside, here is the more.

So what's happened? School finished a little while ago, holidays have been immensely dull, my report could please even the most frigid of people (innuendo optional), LEO DIDN'T DIE!!!!*, Saddam's probably going to get the chop, Bush is almost out of office (oh noes!), LEO DIDN'T DIE!!!! and Santa will be squeezing his cookie-and-cream-stuffed belly down our chimneys in two days; well, ours has a lid, but since I'll be too busy singing at church to lend him a hand, he's going to have to work that one out himself.

 In the space of the next two and a half days, it appears that I'll be spending ... *does the math* .. *carry the two* ... *total up*... lots of time at church. Wonderful, as we never say in public. In the last few days however, I've taken quite a liking to Scrubs, Hustle and Jonathan Creek, lovely, wonderful programs that often tend to make the holidays somewhat less boring. Those, and Casino Royale and BORAT! I'm not usually such a fan of movies featuring large amounts of hotel streaking, but if one is happy to miss an 1/8th of the film, Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan is a laugh-out-loud commentary on American society that cannot be missed. Casino Royale is a welcome revamping of the James Bond 007 movie line, and Daniel Craig is "so hot right now".

* For anybody wondering, Leo is the ex-Chief of Staff in the American (PURE GOLD) Political Drama The West Wing. Having suffered a heart attack (both Leo and his actor, John Spencer), I had mistakenly assumed that he would be removed from the series by the frequently used 'Kill-Off' method. However, strangely, he hasn't gone yet and still continues to provide needed insights into possible political pathways for the American Government. I figure I must have gotten my timing wrong; either way, Leo is going to die soon. :(

Ciao for now.

Much has changed in the last few months, not at all reminiscent of the activity here. I've had innumerable tests, a French tour, hosted a Frenchie, had my wisdom teeth taken (ripped) out, fallen in love*, and poor Steve Irwin has passed away. All that and I'm being forced to use 'proper' MSN speak - so what if I was dropping the 'wrong' letters?

eg. French word 'salut' suddenly loses a vowel... you choose the outcome of that.

The French Tour

This occurred in the Term Two holidays, and has been for me perhaps the most defining moment of my education. I was hosted by an amazing family in France - the most kind, generous and truly 'good' people I have ever been opportune to meet. My french speaking ability greatly improved in just two weeks (or so the incredibly nice people said: I think I got the translation correct), and I was treated to a mere taste of French life. Suffice to say, I liked that which I saw, felt, tasted and saw again. Those two weeks soon passed, and I tearfully (ish) moved on to a week in Paris, where at the other extreme, we were all treated to dormitory life (I swear; never again, at least not with the same guys), and whatever it was that somehow founds its way into cabbage meatballs; well, I suppose they're only cooking for students.

After wearing ourselves out consistently for 6 days, the Ocker contingent headed back to Oz, via, of course, the cheap shopping stalls (" 'ey man! You wanna buy 15 Eiffel Tower for 2€?").

The frogs arrived the next holidays, eager to 'do the whole tourist thing'. It was a sharp learning curve for them: there are no touristy things here. That realisation hit quite hard, although more so, strangely, on the Aussies. The proceeding weeks were spent partying (yay).

L'hôpital

I went under the knife the day after they left; it sucked. And sliced. And damn well hurt, despite the overated effects of Panadeine. It was the first time that I remember going to sleep in one room and waking in another - not something which I particularly enjoyed. Although one thing was rather cool: anaesthetic. Damn someone needs to make 'funsize' chocolate bars with anaesthetic. Sugar only goes so far. As put by a friend of mine, who underwent the same procedure,

"It didn't help that the anaesthetist administered a sufficient enough dose of anaesthetic to euphanise a large circus troup, elephants included."

Falling in love

In a passionate show of extreme sadness, I have taken quite liking to The West Wing. However, I will never forgive those damned producers for killing the nice guy (Leo).

Steve Irwin (the serious bit)

Having given it a bit of thought, I think I've come to realise why his death has affected so many people, from all different paths of life. Celebrities in general - they're so 'out there', in the media, and even more so for Steve, that we come to think them invincible. They're our heroes, and as Star Wars has shown us, when a hero dies, everyone cries (I LOVE YOU LONGTIME MACE!!!).

*Granted, only with The West Wing. But hehe I made you scroll down, didn't I?