Politicians are the same the world over.

quote:
We are being told that it was a "one off" and that it would never happen again, but I want absolute assurance quite frankly."

Livingstone said it is possible the problem could be blamed on "that great wave of privatization that went round the world."

"All the utilities were flogged off, big share options for the boys at the top, but not the investment in modern infrastructure that you need. ... The lack of investment, I think, is bordering on the criminal."

Sorry dude, no one can assure you that a grid (or anything for that matter) will never fail. One hour offline in how many years? 100% reliability is about as attainable as a perpetual motion machine. Stop whining.

Also, nice generalizing there...must have been privatisation? Right. Because state run facilities NEVER EVER fail. They run 100% of the time in total perfection. Right.

Also, lack of investment is bordering on criminal? Right, and who do you suggest should do the investing? The grid WAS a state owned system before privatisation (which is only a RECENT trend) ...how much of the tax revenue was spent on modernizing it? Now that it's been sold off you want the market to invest in something that has seemingly no return?

Whatever.

(Apply same arguments to inane political threats and chatter re: the black out here.)

Waltzing Matilda...the Australian haka?

Personally, I think the haka is scary as buggery. In fact, I will watch rugby just so I get to see the haka. Someone singing "waltzing matilda" doesn't have the same "war cry" type of feel.

I actually love when waltzing matlida gets sung by the crowd, and there is nothing they can do to keep a crowd, especially a drunken crowd, from singing..right?

Words can not express how much I loathe the kikkoman commercial in which the mother shouts out the door "Kids! Din-naaaaaaaaah!" And, then the kids fly home.

I hate it.

With every fibre of my being.

Almost as much as Bess hates being told "I'll kick your ass." D is relentlessly whispering that to her and she's trying to tear his face off.

That is all.

Fountain of Woof!

All of you living in suburbia land might appreciate this:

Last week school started around these parts. You know what that means for us, the childless, right? Beyond the traffic problems associated with getting the little preciouses to school...it's doorknock time. Around here, every child gets sent home withint he first two weeks with "fundraiser" catalogs. Mind you, we pay property taxes like everyone else. Part of these taxes go to fund schools (ie facilities) which we don't use. We feel this is contribution/donation enough to the schools of the area. OH, and not only the schools. But, also donations to help pay for costumes for the dance competitions of the after-school activity known as "competitive dance" around here (you really don't want to hear my opinion on this.) Or donations to help pay for the costs associated with the statewide tournaments little Johnny attends with his exclusive, high-tuition soccer club.

Etc.

As we are childless, all area parents have their kids target us for these schlocky fundraisers (ie. $10 wrapping paper, tubs of cookie dough, frozen waffles etc). You know, since we must just have tons of expendable dosh that we would like to throw in their direction so that they can meet their fundraising targets and get that limo ride to chuckie cheese. Of so they can go to florida for the 8-12 year old "world championship" meet for cheerleading.

So, D and I were having a (nother) ranting/raving moment when we got the first fundraising pitch on Monday (the first day of school) during our dinner. As a result, this is what he's written on official looking letterhead and posted on our front door:


Individuals, Groups and Organizations Seeking Donations:


The residents of;

[Address here]

Will only, and without exception, donate funds to non-profit, tax-exempt agencies that are actively involved in the rescue, rehabilitation and re-homing of companion animals. If you believe your group or organization meets this criteria you are more than welcome to submit a proposal for funds outlining and including the following:

Your organization or groups name and address.

Proof of non-profit and tax-exempt status with the IRS

An outline of your donations program.

Why said funds are being sought.

The breakdown of where said funds will be dispersed.

An account of administrative overhead that any donated funds will cover.

If you have further questions or queries please feel free to write to the above address or email.

Regards,
C & D

Isn't that just the bestest ever? He and I have, gleefully, not had to deal with even one more request for donations since then.

(And we may be, officially, the crankiest neighbors ever. It's only inevitable that we'll start shouting "And get off our lawn!" out of the top floor window sometime soon.)

Personally, I'm considering walking around the neighborhood asking for donations to pay for a trip to Australia for us so that we can visit the rellies....I'm thinking of offering designer showercaps at a 1200% markup for sale. All proceeds going to the benefit of our worth cause of course!

P.S.

D made cown-bread last night. That's right people. Cown-bread. Of his own accord. Not only made it, but pontificated on its inherent goodness.

This is the man, that only a few years ago claimed to loathe the goodness that is cornbread in all it's gritty not sweet yet not savoury goodness. This is the man, that after I SLAVED for HOURS in the kitchen of his parent's house in GERO at CHRISTMAS (dear god) in 4 trillion degree heat making a roast turkey with cornbread stuffing (the cornmeal which I had to personally import from the US) and all trimmings in a house with no AC said "It's alright, but I'm just not a fan of cornbread...." (Don't worry, his mum slugged him for me.)

(Which I took very well considering that not only was it 4 trillion degrees with only trips to the beach to keep our brains from boiling in our skulls, but that we were staying through boxing day and already there was talk of not being able to leave back home for Perth until the end of the boxing day cricket match....which of course meant not only surviving a day of even higher temps, but of comatose cricket watching on tv. Thank god there was plenty of cold beer to self-medicate with.)

Bits and Pieces

I traded in my car last friday for a new one. Exactly the same, except this one has a cute sunroof. I love it. Oh, and this one has less accumulated dog hair and other detritus from my life.

Today in the parking garage the three cars in front of me drove by a little old lady trying to manually push her car backwards out of a parking space. I rolled down my window and told her I'd be back after parking my car. So, I parked my car and walked back to see if I could help. Two more cars drove by, the drivers had their eyes carefully averted. Apparently her reverse gear had gone out and she just wanted to drive the car home. She was a wreck, sweaty and near tears. She said she didn't want to keep me from where I was going. She didn't. I just paused for a second to help her out. Actually, I waved down three grown men who were studiously avoiding noticing that she needed help. I called out to them for help in such a way that they couldn't pretend that they didn't see us/didn't know. People it took less than two minutes to help her out.

There are some dogs at our house that are treading on thin ice with me Ever since the squirrel kill this weekend they have become obsessed with squirrel patrol. Any rustle of leaves demands an immediate "quick response" situation, with all three trying to cram themselves through the doggy door to the backyard for a minimum of a half-hour of maniacally running from tree to tree checkingfor intruders. God forbid that possum (that used to hang out on the back fence during the spring) come back. Bess is the only sensible one who remains firmly on her throne and looks out the window at them with derision.

We kept receiving in the mail a cancellation notice for our home insurance policy. I called several times and was told it was a mistake. A couple weeks ago I received yet another threat of cancellation for non-payment. I had my escrow account in my hand at the time and could see where a payment had been made for said insurance policy so I went ballistic. Finally, it was discovered that there were two policies on our house. So I arranged to have the extraneous one cancelled. Two days ago we received a check in the post as refund for the duplicate policy. To the tun of $600! So, that's nice, except that they'd taken that amount from escrow in last year's period, which caused my escrow account to go short and, consequently, my monthly payments to go up. So, I guess at the end of the year, the account will be over and the payments will come back down. Oh! The excitment of being a homeowner! The adventure never ends!

I was going to give you my opinion on what "went wrong" up north that caused the grid to collapse, but since I think about that sort of shit everyday for my pittance...I'll save us both the boredom. (Plus from all accounts you New York types were holding hands, singing cumbayah, buying each other cokes, and teaching each other to sing in harmony during the black outs. You know you were! You were totally feeling that special "We are New Yorkers!" love, so I guess you couldn't have really been that upset, right?)

Just so as you know I have to deal EVERY SINGLE DAY with phrases like "load shed" (ha, I said load), system peaks, voltage collapse, grid reliability, and all sorts of other fun power stuff. See, you never knew I worked in such an exciting and happening industry. Oh yes I do! And, not only that, I STILL work in that industry...in Texas... which seems to be the epicenter of collapsing power companies. (Who would have thought it for a girl with a degree in cultural anthropology?)

I get a sickening feeling that all the same old issues that we keep hashing out with the different PUCs we deal with just got a bit stickier...which means more time spent supplying information for requests from various lawyers for me.

Fun times ahead for me! I can just feel it!

Kill me.

Please.

Killer in our House

There's a killer in our house.

A while ago there was a great commotion in our backyard and when I looked out, it appeard our dog herd had treed a squirrel. The squirrels are pretty clever so I thought nothing of it.

The D and I were going to run an errand and we were having a hard time convincing the herd to come indoors. So we went out to round them up. That's when we saw the corpse.

A little squirrel corpse, stiff already with feet up in the air.

There were four likely suspects. All of them have tried to convince us of their conviction to eliminating all squirrel intruders. We didn't know it would go this far.

No one's talking, but the Rubes has a suspicious wound on her muzzle (which obviously hurts like buggery) and tell-tale blood on her paws....

Here's my big chance.....

nice....

IRONY!

For god's sake people, learn it, love it...use it CORRECTLY. Just because something is unfortunate or coincidental doesn't mean it's ironic.

Shees.

Who farted?

Link for Nicole.

Camel Toe Avoidance

So there is a hanes her way commercial on tv. The opening scene has a woman wearing some very cute boycut panties....with center seam that runns straight up the clacker. Obvious in it's absence? Camel Toe. So tell me you panty-model saavy...do they have some sort of athletic cup-esque contraption that prevents obvious camel toe for these sort of shots?

Also, note to underpants designers. Middle seam right up the clacker? Not.ever.acceptable.

Happy Families

We had lunch with my little sister today. She's ridiculously cute, and is just about to start her senior year in highschool. My parents, as of late, have taken to making it impossible for her to come see us. They don't want to come right out and say they think we suck...but they did tell her that we are no longer friends of the family. We're not even no longer part of the family...we don't even rank in the outer circles of casual friendship. So, that left me with a warm and loving! Indeed!

Ahhh! Nothing like positive affirmation for the main reason we moved back across the pond...you know, so we could spend time with my family! Now that, kiddos, was an investment in happiness that just keeps giving!

Surely this article was written in jest?

How does one just "become a lesbian." You either aren't or you are? Aren't you? Or am I confused?

Not only that, this statement sounds pretty awful:

Mr Carney said that despite the encouragement for women to "explore other options", married and miserable was still better than alone and free, unless there was abuse.

"The best thing you can do is stay married if you want to live longer," Mr Carney said.

People like this don't deserve a trial.

A two year old baby. He should be drawn and quartered. And, I am using that term literally.

Val's blog thingy!

Go visit Val. She was my lamont's/noodle house partner in crime in Perth. She lives the glam life of an engineer in London at the mo'.

Market as God

(A bookmark for my benefit, so that I can read this later.)

Circular Reference

Those of you who spend your days up to your eyeballs in excel know the frustration that is a circular reference. Definition straight from the kooky paperclip fellow:

When a formula refers back to its own cell, either directly or indirectly, it is called a circular reference. Microsoft Excel cannot automatically calculate all open workbooks when one of them contains a circular reference.

'Teva.

Just so you know. My brain is caught up in a circular reference logic loop. It can not calculate because it's referring back to another calculation that is dependent on the calculation that it's trying to calculate. Or something.

Listening to "Come on Eileen" at top volume just isn't helping.

Neither are suggestions from D that I should just commit hari kari here in my kyoob.

Boy Logic:

The D had an upset stomach yesterday. It merits mention because he rarely admits to feeling anything other than "fine." So. In a fit of charity, goodness, and light I was prepared to make some light chicken soup and toast for dinner.

We had an afternoon appointment with a tax advisor. (This whole home business idea may be a bit pie in the sky, but the accounting behind it will be solid enough to warrant the return of the majority of my income tax paid this year. Oh yes it will. Even if it kills me, I will make it so.)

After the appointment D says "You know what would make my stomach feel better?" I shrugged my shoulders and waited for him to tell me (expecting immodium, or saltines and ginger ale).... "A hamburger."

Of course.

How much do I love pluots?

A whole whole bunch! I love the made up name as well as the nature of the hybrid fruit. I wish I could find some apriums to compare the pluot with.

The good stuff:

-Going out to the lake for a swim with Ruby and D. She harasses us every weekend day until we take her out there. Look at her face!

- "Mini" ice cream sandwiches. The cheapest ones you can find. They are so tiny and cute and wrapped up in paper like little birthday presents. I love them.

- Big plans and schemes at our house, plus a general sense of us vs. them in general.

- The D may look like a gentle giant, but you better not fuck with me. He'll kick your ass.

- Watching lame movies in my jammies with D, guessing at dialogue before it ever comes out of the character's mouth.

- Stone fruit. Oh god. Enjoy this time of year while you can. Go on! Eat as many peaches, plums, nectarines and apricots as you can stand. If you really want to really be fancy about it you could always slice them and serve them with a bit of a grenadine drizzled over the top.

This is one trend that drives me around the bend. WTF?

(Ha! I had to corrrect my earlier typo, which had this reading: "This is one trend that drives me around the bed.")

I can not fathom this mentaility. Seriously. I left home at 18, and not resentfully either. Gladly. And have worked my arse off to remain independent all these years. Yes, I've made some sacrifices and lived through some pretty dodgy years (by sacrifices I'm being somewhat sarcastic, I mean that I've never been able to afford to alternate a chanel bag with a gucci bag. Vomit).

In my case, sometimes the poverty wasn't necessarily short-term. Actually, I can't say I was ever impoverished. Not really. I guess it is all relative. I've never been without a roof over my head and food on my table. And, I can say that I accomplished it all on my own doing.

I am proud of what I've done, where I've been, and what it took to get here.

"For many such people the relative discomfort of short-term poverty was a price worth paying in exchange for the promise of freedom offered by an independent lifestyle. " This is a statement that resonates for me.

I can't begin to understand the mentality of people that refuse to leave home and to grow up into independent (and contributing) beings. I can't begin to comprehend people in my age group that still call their parents "Mommy" and "Daddy" and indulge in other infantile language patterns with their parents.

I also can't understand parents that allow it. Seriously. Or parents that molly-coddle their children through adulthood.

My independence has always been my biggest priority, and I know I'm not alone in this mentality. I wish other people in my age group would grow the fuck up and quit embarassing "my" generation.