wednesday : 21 mar 2007

I considered writing this promised catch-up entry as one sentence, but then reconsidered.

Television. The birds are singing, food tastes divine, and my life has meaning again, all because the ABC2 is broadcasting the brilliant comedy cartoon Daria, Your Humble Narrator's favourite show of 2005 and probably the best thing MTV ever produced, apart from MTV Unplugged and Bevis and Butthead. These episodes of Daria are still dated 2000 but I haven't seen them before. I just might have to buy the whole DVD series. Aunty is showing Daria during the Kid's slot on Sunday afternoons, despite the fact that the sarky humour in Daria is way beyond your average eight year old. Other viewing habits range from the usual brace of documentaries, through to Prancing with the Stars to gauge its leg pervability rating (variable), and the solid health magazine show What's Good for You. Detractors cite unscientific methods used to reach conclusions – I don't see much evidence of this at all. Any conclusions that might be speculative or derive from urban legends are clearly highlighted as such. As for jtv, it is too indie rock orientated for my tastes, as to be expected from Triple J, and Rage hasn't been seen or heard in Club Toxic for months. The Melbourne F1 grand prix was dull as usual. When will motor sports be deemed politically incorrect in light of oil and global warming concerns? Like fishing, car racing has always seemed patently absurd to me. At least it was finally shot in widescreen (ditto The Academy Awards). I enjoy the drag racing on Speedweek (SBS), though. Seven seconds, and the fucken race is over, with a minimum of fossil fuels ignited and boredom endured. Virtual car racing games are becoming so good now, they should take over. Which reminds me, Good Game should be returning to the ABC soon. I really like this show but don't play computer games at all. I can't explain it, either. I wish they'd ditch 'The Team' segment. This brand of computer geek humour is about as funny as cutting your arm off.

Health Matters. The weight loss juggernaut ploughs ahead. I have lost three kilos so far; now my average mass hovers around 77 kgs, down from 80-81 kgs. My quality of food intake has dropped since having groceries home delivered by Aussie Farmers Direct, which leaves a box of standard fruit and vegies once a fortnight on the doorstep. Unfortunately I don't eat about 30% of the stuff – potatoes, pumpkins, bizarre swollen pods of fibrous growth. So instead of going to the market to buy the rest of my usual inventory, I make up for the shortfall with bread and eggs. Sometimes I'll mix it up a bit and cook eggs and bread. Have toast, will eat. Strangely, the kilos continue to fall off, so this diet is not so much fattening as lacking the nutrition of my world-beating mixed vegetable and tinned fish dinners. Anyway, the upshot is that I'll be stopping the Farmers Direct orders, although I liked supporting this distribution business that sells directly from the farmers. I'll sign up again if they can fill custom orders. In the mornings I take folic acid and B12 supplements, as recommended by the ABC show Catalyst. These compounds promote much better DNA repair because they supply the essential raw materials the replicating molecule needs, thus lowering my overall DNA damage 'age' and in theory, reducing cancer risk. Also helping in this regard is the moratorium on heavy beer and spirits: I haven't had a hangover in two months, but can still cut loose because my sensitivity to alcohol has increased since drinking less of it. Neat. Hey, it gets better. Regular aerobic exercise is even happening...don't ask me how. I just started with jogging on the spot for two minutes each day, then increased it by 15 seconds over several weeks. The point is to form a lasting habit, rather than burn out after doing insane levels of moronic exercise. Like Code Monkey, I don't feel any better yet, but the gradual slimming progress is heartening. I can't wait to get my 20s physique back again. Combined with more stylish clothes and improving confidence with 'da ladies', who knows what can happen. As the saying goes, there are no ugly people, just lazy ones...

Socialising. My memory is going to fail me here, but here goes – working backwards in time might help. The 40th birthday party in the outer eastern suburbs on Saturday night was modest though enjoyable, with about 20 people attending. I drove and drank seven LBs (lite beers), played mint Twilight Zone pinball and Space Invaders arcade games, took a photo of someone's breast, and ate chocolate mud cake. The party took a long time to mellow out; not sure why. It probably lacked that critical number of guests needed to make you feel less exposed around strangers. On Friday night Marylu took some of us to see a dress rehearsal of Miss Saigon, a full-on musical production that shows how strong emotions can bridge cultures. I didn't mind the prostitutes gyrating around on stage during opening numbers wearing mini-skirts and not much else. Lucky that I remembered to bring my glasses, huh? Last Wednesday night I caught Ghost Rider at Hoyts Melbourne Central with Code Monkey and Yaran. It's a bad, bad movie presented flawlessly on the Big Screen – what's high definition? Yeah. BYO food, because none of the merchandise on offer would satisfy a starving mutt. I sampled Yaran's cold popcorn, and it was like eating bits of upholstry sponge. My pint of LB at the Lion kept me happy enough. What else? I guess I should mention the social club booze cruise. For me it was less mental due to avoiding spirits at the open bar, and besides, plans had been made to continue partying at Docklands, which I did with some survivors, ending up at the Turkish restaurant for a good dose of water pipe puffing and dancing to the equivalent of Turkish acoustic death metal. Afterwards, Dave and I trudged up to the near-empty James Squires pub then caught a taxi to Cookie before catching our respective Nightrider buses home. The service now accepts standard Metcards as payment. Too bad I've been catching the last train home most Friday nights! Apart from those events, I checked out the Open Air cinema on the banks of the Yarra, down past Transport. This is a great night out; it is more comfortable and convenient than the Moonlight Cinema. On random night's I've spent time catching up with the lads bar hopping and chatting to girls. I got a number from a Caroline last week but she's not answering my calls, so I'll dismiss her as a flake. Plenty more out there – single women I mean, not flakes, although perhaps I meet too many of the latter? Heh heh heh, they just become all shy and nervous because I'm such a good catch, naturally! Ahem. Oh yeah, Heathen and I condescended to visit Chadstone Shopping Centre one night to see The Hitcher remake. Shit movie if you know the original, but we had a good yarn about 9/11 ahead of the session as I demolished a baked cheese cake and strong cap. Life sucks, but every now and then it's slightly better than tolerable, like when having a fucking good cup of coffee and slice of cake.

Retail Therapy. Speaking of Chaddy, I spent two days there one weekend shopping for clothes and male 'accessories' – watches, ties, cuff links, belts, shirts, jewelry, and other meaningless shite. This year I've decided to shift gears up to the next level of men's haute fashion, mainly because my previous arsenal of office shirts have all expired at once (I bought them at the same time), and also in anticipation of losing my ever faithful paunch – which makes for a much better companion than a puppy or girlfriend, in my magniloquent opinion. So I went looking for better quality pure cotton shirts: two-ply for extra warmth during winter and to make a stronger impression. To keep everything congruent I upgraded my sad, pathetic leather belts to designer label numbers, and scored new ties and matching cuff links. My rule for ties and cuff links is simple: if it looks good, price is no object. That includes getting a $25 polyester tie if I happen to like the pattern and/or colouring. Synthetic weaves look just as good as silk, although a trained eye will spot a handwoven imported silk tie without any trouble. However, I believe that colour coordination and a sense of flair in the choice are more than enough to turn any man into a 'divorce on legs'. For cheap cuff links ($30 to $60) you just have to make sure the plastic bits are glued in properly, flush with the housing, not off centre or sticking up at an angle. In other words, don't be a mascot for some company's poor quality control. Now, the shopping spree has lasted for about four weeks, but 90% of that time was occupied with research and browsing at multiple shopping centres, as well as scouting around the CBD almost every lunch time. It seems that I'm getting fussier in my near middle-age: that's inevitable when your budget for items has doubled since the last wardrobe redux. There are pitfalls though in this rarefied atmosphere of yuppie-dom. For example, I purchased a new pair of leather dress shoes, since my old ones basically disintegrated before my eyes like a CGI vampire. I picked out a pair of pointy Oxfords and felt happy with them, until I read an article on Ask Men that warned against pointy shoes for short guys because they could make him look like a wee little minstrel. I suppose my Morandis are more pointy, not pointed. Sort of. I still need one or more pairs of shoes because this one is the only black pair I've got for work and casual dress. As of this writing, the shopping list still has a number of items uncrossed, hence the crusade continues. I am one of those rare males who enjoys this kind of activity. For me there aren't enough spare hours to do the required legwork, but it's also great to space it out save hunting for specific things when time allows and locations present themselves.

Arrgh. More to come...

monday : 05 mar 2007

Donald Rumsfeld is briefing President George W. Bush. "Yesterday there was a minor fire fight and three Brazilian soldiers were killed!"
   "OH NO!!!!!!!" exclaims the President, "that is terrible, it's a complete disaster!!!!" Rumsfeld is stunned by this unprecedented display of emotion and watches as Bush sits, head in his hands. Finally George looks up and asks, "How many is a brazillion?"

For more related political humour – in case you missed it in 2004 – check out John Cleese's Letter to America.

Yes, oh patient reader, that was a rather pathetic, softcock journal update. You got me dead bang. That was the kind of entry I expect from lazy, self-inflated cyber celebrities who have nothing original or interesting to say. Now, I have some important reading to do right this very picosecond. But rest assured that a humungous post is forthcoming.