Grabthar's Hammer has listed the most brilliant haikus. They're a very nice zen way of letting you know your computer is munted. The perfect error message.
Your file was so big.
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.
Yesterday it worked.
Today it is not working.
Windows is like that
With searching comes loss
And the presence of absence:
"My Novel" not found.
My first lecture in about 5 years! God I hope there are people stupider there than me.
Just an update. We're up to Season 6, and everyone has gone bad. Bloody Willow is doing a Trainspotting. Buffy is shagging Spike. Dear wee Jonathon is the baddie.
I'm really enjoying it, but pleased to be nearing the end of the ride.
Stamp tanty.
I'm trying to be grown up about this, but my technorati ranking keeps falllllling and falllllinggggg.
Not fair! It doesn't seem to notice half the people who link to me.
I try not to give a stuff, and reassure myself that it must do it to everyone else as well, but what is the fricking point if it doesn't notice all the cool new links I'm so very proud of?
Huh?
Huh?
HUH?
I've been trying not to write this post for about 3 weeks, but a girl can only handle so much BEING IGNORED.
Damn you Technorati (who I'm not linking to), I hate you, but I crave your attention.
Memememememememe.
Me.
Whining over. I'll go and do something adult now, like online shopping. For cool stuff. Like linen. Mmmm linen.
Last night I went to an orientation gig. That's right, on a monday! Orientation!
I was a bit perturbed as I walked the familiar route to the Student Union building that it is 15 years since I first went to university. Old old old.
I didn't feel old at the Bats gig though. There were lots of old groovers, and a few young groupies too. It was a lovely show. They played some new stuff which rocked, and all the old faves (best of the night Smoking Her Wings).
And I had a beer. And my sister and I grooved.
A++
My dear friend Nikki is walking 100kms for Oxfam. They walk around Lake Taupo with a whole lot of other teams.
It is such a mighty good cause, and they're such terrific looking women, that I think you should all donate a penny. You could buy some needy people a goat with your money! Now that is something to think about. Although personally I'd prefer a cow. Goats have those freakish eyes, whereas cow's eyes are beautiful. Except when you're dissecting them in 4th form science.
Here is the link to the team website.
Just so you know, driving really close behind me doesn't make me want to go faster, so that you can get where you want to be so very quickly.
In fact, it has quite the opposite effect.
Tonight I made yummy Puy Lentil, Avocado, Baby Gem and Red Onion Salad with Pomegranate and Avocado Oil Dressing from my new Peter Gordon cookbook.
Except I didn't have sage and thyme, but rosemary did the trick.
And I didn't have pomegranate molasses, but no worries, lemon juice and brown sugar did the trick.
No baby gem lettuce, but baby spinach and ordinary lettuce did the trick.
We were a bit low on the avocado oil too, but Martinborough olive oil did the trick.
Our supply of red onions were out, but shallots did the trick.
Unbelievably we had puy lentils in the house.
Next time I might try and make the Warm Salad of Grilled Pear, Roast Sichuan Pepper Almonds, Balsamic Braised Red Onions, Mache and Gorgonzola Dressing.
Except I'll call it Apple, Peanut and Banana Delight. Apart from that, it will be identical.
Brilliant. Cheers to Ben for this great link.
You give them a photo of yourself, and it shows pictures of the people you look most similar to.
I look most similar to Shiri Appleby, who I've never heard of. Second though - Britney! Yay me!
But really more like this
And I got Eva Herzigova, Condoleeza Rice and Eddie Murphy.
Glen got Rudi Giuliani and Shaquille O'Neal the first time, but when we put in a nicer picture he got Paul Newman and Hugh Jackman, which is more like it.
Has anyone else noticed I'm only 158 hits off 20k, on my statcounter?
Really, I hit 20k a while ago, as my stat counter was introduced after a previous stat counter disappointed me, but I still feel a little excitement about impending 20k.
Last night was a bit of a doozy on the booze front. My parents went to Australia last weekend, and last night we drank their entire supply of wine. Mmmm, it was very good. Then we had whisky. And I feel fine today. My detox programme seems to have worked. Let me know if you're interested, it was painless and didn't involve any fasting or broccoli juice.
I am sufficiently hungover though to read Stephen and DPF's post about pizza and almost die with pizza craving.
My favourite is the Mediterranean Food Warehouse.
Yours?
Like every other child his age, Finn is obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. The wooden railway set is actually super cute, and I'm very fond of it.
The videos and stories are absolutely terrible. Moralistic shit. I think the Rev. Awdry was a severely weird person, and his son Christopher has continued to write the very bizarre tales.
Still, I was pretty amazed to find the following song on a dvd we've got out of the library. I've highlighted the best lyrics so you don't have to read the whole thing. It is accompanied by pictures of the engines crashing, burning, getting covered in tar, squashed by boulders... you get the idea.
Perhaps they were joking?
Accidents Happen
(composed by Mike O'Donnell & Junior Cambell)
Britt Allcrot Inc.
Thrills and spills on the railway, it's a life of happiness
But sometimes impatience can lead to carelessness
Some think they are smart cats, and some just know it all
But sooner or later we all find out that
Chorus:
Accidents happen now and again, just when you least expect
Just when you think that life is okay, fate comes to collect
Accidents happen now and again, when people or trains get smart
If you don't concentrate on the thing that you're doing
Accidents will happen, just like that
Your best-laid plans can turn upside down if you get too confident
Sometimes you will slip and slide if that's Lady Luck's intent
One minute you're riding high, the next you're on the ground
But please remember, whatever the weather
You must take care 'cause
Accidents happen now and again, sometimes just by chance
You gotta pick yourself up and dust yourself down
Put it down to experience
Accidents happen now and again
Just don't take it all to heart
If you don't concentrate on the thing that you're doing
Accidents will happen, just like that
The warning signs are there for us to see most of the time
But sometimes we take chances and ignore the danger signs
Fate can surprise you, with no reason or rhyme
Make sure you learn your lesson you'll know better next time
(Chorus)
I went for a good run this morning. I was a bit worried as I haven't been out for a week cos of the lurg.
It was a very beautiful morning, and I had the beach to myself. I couldn't help notice the remarkable similarity between the odour of the beach and a portaloo. At the moment Hutt City is pumping its sewerage out at Eastbourne, rather that further out to sea. There was a distictive poo smell. The portaloo flavour came when you add the Lever Rexona factory stink. Actually, stink may not be the right word, and it is probably called something like Wildflower Bouquet.
The powers that be have assured us the poo will be gone in a week.
Then Petone will be back to perfect - smelling like roses, or Wildflower Bouquet as the case may be.
I fixed the iriver! Glen and I have been scratching our heads about a very peculiar error message for a couple of days, and I've been searching the internet for solutions, and finally I worked it out.
Of course, working it out meant finding the installation disk, and that proved more challenging than anything. It lead to all sorts of nasty sorting. I've now got my Cuisine mags all sorted into a neat pile in the kitchen cupboard, and all my parent's mags in a neat pile for them to take home (lucky). As it happened the disk was in the CD cupboard, not amongst the piles of detritus around the place.
And now my iriver is syncing a nice orderly stack of songs.
Happily inside baking some banana muffins and I hear an almighty bang. I thought the roof had fallen in on the sleepout or the fence fallen over or a gang of terrorists or something.
But no.
I guess I should have used some common sense and let the air out after I went for a ride this morning and it started looking all bulgy.
You live and learn.
The Bats are playing at the Union Hall on Monday 27th for FREE. Its an orientation thing, so depending on your point of view you'll either have the pleasure of being out with lots of young lovelies, or you can tolerate the young varsity newbies. I love young people so I'll be reveling in their spontaneous and youthful exuberance.
Spontaneous exuberance sounds like something I made up, which could in fact be the case.
Yesterday I received a fairly hilarious email. Initially I thought it was spam, but it was a bit too detailed.
Hi Martha.Just seen your blog, do you really wanna be a 'porn' star? I cant help you with that but I will be posting your picture on one of my blogs tomorrow (girlyblahblahblah.blogspot.com) unless you object!I have several blogs, some of a 'pornograpnic' nature, and if you wish to appear on any send pictures to: blah@blahblahblah and I wll publish them. Go to girlyblah and follow the links at the bottom of the page to get an idea of the kind of pictures relevent to each blog. Looking forward...
Blah
I wrote a very earnest post about my son's kindy, and my angst about whether to send him to Steiner...
And then I thought, you know? This just isn't going to be that kind of a blog. I promise to steer as well clear of anything serious as I can manage. Although, university starts next week, so there is no guarantee I won't start spouting Chomsky at y'all.
So here is a nice link to Conversations with Famous People, which is one of my guilty internet pleasures. It is much meaner about Britney than I feel comfortable with, but by hokey, it is funny.
Last night I went out. I met some friends at Capitol, and it was grand. Firstly it was grand because the waiter was psychic, so while I looked confusedly at the wine list thinking "I don't really feel like wine, having sat around drinking it in the sun all afternoon with the splendid Tinks and Cathy", clever waiter suggested a gin and tonic, which was BANG ON. Yum.
We had to eat quick, so as to get to our movie. To be honest the menu didn't look that inspiring, lots of pasta and seafood. I went for a small dish of the tagliatelle with prosciutto. It was DELICIOUS. Amazingly delicious, and huge. Everyone else enjoyed their food too, so it was a winner place. And the entire experience only set me back $22, which is a bargain. And psychic wait staff are a rarity, so big ups for that.
Mmmmm tagliatelle with prosciutto.
After tea we went to Walk the Line at Reading. I totally rate Reading for the beautiful big seats. As a person of shortish stature I can never see over anyone's head if they're in front of me at most movie theatres (esp Rialto), but Reading is sweet. They should have had more ticket staff on though, there was a queue of about 20 people, which sucked.
I enjoyed the movie. It was very romantic, and Joaquin Phoenix is hot. Actually I feel a bit like Johnny Cash is (was) hot too, which is quite weird.
Here is the very easy Parmesan Biscuit recipe. Originally by Rick Stein, bless his cotton socks..
Yesterday was a Real Hot Bitches sort of day.
First up was the Petone fair, and the weather TURNED IT ON BABY. It was lovely and warm, and none of that occasional wind that has the power to somewhat undermine events around Wellington. Our kindy stall managed to sell a lot of sugar to unsuspecting parents, and hopefully made some pinga in doing so.
In the afternoon we had some friends around for drinks. I made some parmesan biscuits. Ohmigod. Take butter, add some cheese and just a hint of flour to hold it all together, and you've pretty much got a melt in your mouth treat.
And in the evening I toddled into town with a couple of ladies for some Bitchcraft. It was at Aro Park and there masses of very hot bitches with stalls selling the most gorgeous crafty items. Check out my necklace.
Then the piece de resistance the real Real Hot Bitches.
Not a great pic I'm afraid. Even in disguise I recognised Ms Angela Meyer leading the pack. It was hilarious and earnest and great.
Sadly a hot dog from the earlier fair caught up with one of my companions and we had to split. Which is actually a good thing. I like to be tucked up in bed nice and early these days.
All up it was a very lovely day.
Sometimes when you're feeling a bit unwell, and you've cleaned the house and put the baby to bed, you turn on the telly. Eventually the Winter Olympics morphs into a show that has a certain portion of advertorial content. I know, time could be better spent.
Now, you remember those luminous spheres from the 90s? Well they've turned into lustrous pearlised particles. Just thought you should know.
The Ponsonby of Wellington is having a fair on Saturday. Anyone familiar with the Petone fair will know it is a very busy, slightly boganish, hot dog fest. It is a good outing, and there are usually lots of yummy food stalls.
This year there will be a slightly boganish kindergarten stall. We're selling fudge and pre-loved kiddies clothes. I'm on early, so if you go past be sure to say hi, and buy some fudge.
The weather is supposed to be primo, so you could come over on the new ferry.
I'm enjoying the winter Olympics. I watched the team women's cross country skiing this morning, and then hunkered down to watch a bit of the men's cross country skiing. But what? They seemed to have aerials or pole holders attached to their backs. Then what? They turned out to be guns. Yes folks, it was the cross country skiing/shooting event.
Seems anything goes as far as Olympic sports. So I thought perhaps encourage a new event to play to my strengths. How about a dominoes/brownie cooking event? Or a gin and tonic/gardening duo?
Mid-life crisis over. I've found my thang.
Young Tinks has reminded me of a happy wee period in my life when I worked in a florist shop. Mostly it was part-time while I was at university, and then briefly full-time before I bought my own shop (another story). Tinks helped out one Valentines day, and then I believe we all went back to his place and got trashed while playing with his new giggling monkey.
At the time I thought it was the most outrageous thing in the world to have to start work at 7am. I'd have to have a greasey samosa at about 9.30am just to get me through the day.
Valentines was LOVELY. It was crazy full on, but you could always guarantee that people would be delighted to see you. They'd also think you were very lucky when they saw you walking along with beautiful flowers.
I did send some poor woman a bunch of yellow roses instead of red ("what does it mean? He loves me just a little? Misses me? Wants me to just go away?"). I learned a very valuable lesson from my boss that day, the "just ask them how they'd like it sorted" strategy. Turns out the grumpy guy whose order I stuffed up liked being asked how we could fix it, and didn't want it fixed at all.
Those roses must've sent the right message, whatever it may have been.
It is an odd thing. The postie has dropped off our neighbour's mail, but not ours. Perhaps they're using a courier because of the extreme amount of large items due here today. Magnums of bubbly, and little ponies and mighty tomes of love poems. You know, the usual Valentines junk.
Cute! Made of liquorice, my favourite. And with the words all a bit squished up, as they should be.
First time in many years I've received a card from my husband, and I'm very happy.
I love you. You're goodlooking and my favourite. I'd send you a dozen roses, but I haven't got your address.
I hang on your every word. I'm connected to you on a whole psychic level. You're special to me in a way I can barely understand.
I stalk you daily.
Dear reader, tomorrow is all about you.
Be my valentine.
Or at least send me money.
I've been quite surprised by the effect turning 33 has had on me. I'm feeling suddenly a bit limited. I know it isn't old, but I'm feeling a bit old all the same. Not in an aged body way, but in a "I'll never ski at the winter Olympics" way.
Naturally the best way around this crisis is to scheme up some new ideas. The one I'm toying with at the moment is to do the New York Marathon. It basically appeals because I want to go to New York, and will probably be flagged because I don't even want to run a local marathon, so why the hell would I do one there?
Last week I had a running breakthrough. I suddenly went from running 16 minutes to running 25. This happened on Wednesday, and I was so excited. The run was so much easier. I didn't write about it for fear it wouldn't last - AND IT DIDN'T. Bastard body.
My last two runs have been crappage. I have no idea what factors made it easier. I suspect the fact I hadn't been out for almost a week actually helped.
So here I am, all sweaty and feeling crap after this morning's run.
I think perhaps my good run was due to a hit of endorphins, and it was my first hit, and like that Duncan MacDonald dude said about P "you'll keep trying to get that first hit again, but you'll never find it".
We've had a very lovely afternoon at our friends Sam and Emily's house-warming party. The weather was beautiful, food excellent and the company charming. All so good in fact that I went CRAZY and indulged in 4 beers - forgetting that I'm supporting my mother and sister in the She Woman's Triathlon tomorrow morning.
They're picking me up at 6.10am. Is that really counted as daytime?
I think tomorrow is going to be a slooooooooooooooow day.
Hula Laguna is on Sunday. It will be ace. Actually I imagine it will be really crowded, but ace nevertheless.
Isn't "nevertheless" a good word. Is it real?
No grog though, which is nice for avoiding yucky drunken teenagers, but a shame if you want to be an annoying drunken adult.
Over the weekend I asked my friend "Jake Gyllenhal or Heath Ledger?", there was a brief pause, but Jake won. And I agreed.
But then Pop Bitch arrives today with a link to Heath Ledger's house, and you know, I think I'd pick Heath now. I want his house THAT MUCH. There is a lot to be said for being really wealthy.
No-one can accuse me of not being affected by the hype. I'm gagging to see the Johnny Cash flick, and not just because Joaquin Phoenix is fine, but also because Johnny Cash was fine.
I was perhaps the biggest River Phoenix fan EVA. I think my folder of pictures ripped out of Tiger Beat magazine from Wadestown library may still be loitering around in my parent's shed. I'm very pleased to see that one of his siblings is doing so darn well, and is so darn foxy.
So while out today I checked out the CDs that have been released with the movie. The main one, much to my surprise, featured songs sung by Joaquin and Reese Witherspoon, and some dude called Tyler Hilton. Now, I love Joaquin, and I think Reese is just as cute as a button, but what the hell? I bought the nice shiny new Johnny Cash cd instead.
And here is the funny bit. I listened to it when I got home, and then got down to some quality play time with the chiddlers. Finn has one of those electric pianos (like a casiotone, but less branded), and the "disco" button plays Ring of Fire! I'm sure of it.
Perhaps Johnny is being channelled into my home. The "woof" of the dog button seemed to have a certain Nashville flavour too...
I have undertaken (does that make me an undertaker?) the cycle portion of my duathlon wih a zesty enthusiasm. Can you tell I just write things sometimes because I like the sound of them?
Zesty enthusiasm
Zesty enthusiasm
I haven't really taken on cycling with a zesty enthusiasm. More like with a sore arse. However, the key to this tale is that I have dusted off the old bike, pumped up the tyres, bought some pants with extra padding (if Sarah Ulmer can work it, well, so can I). And I've ventured out twice. The woman at the bike shop was very nice and told me that for a 10km cycle you don't need to bother training. I'll take her up on that. I'm a bit frightened of cars.
Right team, polish off your beer goggles, here is an opportunity to share any hottie service staff action you've come across lately.
Barista or bar staff, waiting staff of checkout chick - spill! I want to know where to go for a good perv.
Gender and location doesn't matter.
I don't want any bitching though, be nice.
Bloody hell.
I came back from a lovely night at the beach and my computer wouldn't connect. It is fair to say that this was my worst nightmare. It always amazes me that the wireless thing works at all, so the thought of having to repair it puts me in mortal terror.
Thanks to a very nice lady at Telstraclear, and great deal of talking me through things, I am back online.
Oh thank god. I never want to have to go inside the bowels of this computer again. It is scary.
I went out last night with a group of friends. They are former workmates of mine, and when I worked, we'd go out every Wednesday to the Backbencher, and every month for food. They're a very cool gang, and can always to be relied on to out drink me. Last night was no exception. The exceptional factor was all the talk about men, and more specifically men's appendages.
We started the evening at Liquidate, which is near their work. I finally got to try South Gin, and very nice it was too. The place was empty by about 7, so I'm guessing it isn't the hottest spot in town, but it was pretty great for a rowdy group like us.
We moved on to Boulot at about 8. There weren't any tables available so we squeezed ourselves into the corner and admired the hot staff. There was much discussion of the merits of Gabe vs Enzo. I'm a married woman, so obviously didn't notice (GO ENZO!).
I drank Plymouth gin there. It was good. Lots of gin didn't seem to add up to a big hangover, so perhaps I've uncovered the secret to going out.
Eventually we scored a table. My lamb was bloody delicious, although lacking salt, but since I'm such a healthy thing I coped.
We had to head home to relieve the babysitter, so didn't get to watch all the Seven's fans being silly buggers. I did see quite a lot of girls in tutus pashing boys in dungarees on the way to the car, and some pretty choice spewing in the New World carpark. It was pissing it down, so I don't think I would've missed too much.
I'm going out tonight, lalalalallalalalallalala, into TOWN. Can't wait. I don't even know where, but I know it will be GOOD.
And tomorrow we're going to Waitarere. Only the second time since we sold our bach there. Mr Tinks will be there, and some Pimm's (which Tinks introduced me to in the first place), and chocolate, and good food from clever Mr Horrie.
And our mini-break will have us all amped to do a bit more house painting on Monday. That is how these things work, eh?
I start being a student again soon. I'm at the point of thinking it is quite exciting, which means I have pretty much forgotten what a drag it is having to do stuff in the evenings. My student id arrived in the mail last week. They've used the same picture as I had 5 years ago, and it is nasty.
I'm watching ummm Top of the Pops I think, and A-ha is playing Sun Always Shines on TV (not their finest hour in my humble opinion), and Morten Harket doesn't seem to have aged quite as much as me in the last 19 years, and by jingo, doesn't he look exactly like Fergus who used to be on Shorties? Which was probably almost 19 years ago too - given when I last watched Shorties.
Really good stream of consciousness blogging from the girl who had Pimm's and chocolate for dinner.
Ha! Check out my cool word cloud. Linkage comes courtesy of Urban Chick.
Check out the first word, how stalker is that? (For those new to this game, I've been stalking Alan now for 47 years. He has just noticed, due to a slip up on the ferry).
If you try and do it, they'll prompt you to buy a t shirt. Don't fret, just copy the image and get out of there.
I have a friend called called Chris. He is an artist, and very very good. He has a new catalogue out, it features pictures of corgis, cars, cigarette packets and buildings.
I can't put one of those pictures up, as it is a pdf file, but here is a picture that we have by him (actually we've got about 6 pictures by him, he is THAT GOOD).
If you're interested, please drop me an email wandaharland at gmail dot com, and I'll flick you the catalogue. Everything is reasonably priced and will enhance your existence.
Check out my super duper egg thingies I got for my birthday. They can be used as egg cups when you're done cookin'.
I'm disregarding the "Don't use on a gas hob" sticker.
Yummy
I'm a veritable fount of information today.
Jogging tip #2
Don't drink beer and eat chocolate the night before you go for an early morning run. It makes you feel nauseous, and when all the traffic is at a standstill along the Esplanade you'll look like a total loser.
Or they sensed that Simon and Garfunkel were playing, and thought I was a total loser anyway.
Believe it or not, Shihad is the key to running.
And Simon and Garfunkel is the key to walking very slowly.
I've been meaning to start a series dispelling popular myths.
Starting with
#1 It is just as painful for men watching their partners in pain during childbirth, as it is for the woman in labour.
Bullwhacky.
I've been in labour, and I've watched my sister give birth. The two don't compare. It was one trillion times easier watching someone else in pain than being in it.
And I know she isn't my wife, but I love my sister just as much as if she was, albeit in a completely different way.
Our entire ante-natal class experience seemed to be focussed on how tiring and onerous the chore of birthing is for the poor father, and it is critical that everyone (especially the mother to be) remembers to make sure the poor dad has some snacks.
Whatever.
