Treading Pugwall

Dwindling

2006-02-19T13:35:00.000+11:00

Summer is slipping away.

At some point my deal with summer broke down. I'd work a bit during the busier times in early January, in return for some hotter weather in February.

YOU SCREWED ME SUMMER. SCREWED ME!

Right now I have the last two days of this week to look forward to, and that's it. I also don't have the time to actually do anything with those two days. Damnit!

Summer is a tease.

SNAP!

2006-02-09T14:51:00.000+11:00

I'm not sure who authors the preamble to the Crikey daily subscriber email, but this is so bang on:

""I've never been one," the Prime Minister said yesterday, "who believes it makes much sense to devote an enormous amount of time and energy and commitment of one's life to win election to parliament, and to the high office of decision-making, and then to spend the next stage of life busily handing over decisions to people who are not accountable." He was explaining why he believes Cabinet should maintain personal control over dispensing the RU486 abortion pill – and yet, when it comes to "busily handing over decisions to people who are not accountable," that's precisely what the Prime Minister and his most senior colleagues did when it came to the "decision-making" involved in paying apparently illegal bribes of $300 million to the regime of a country he was about to invade..."

But I wont do that.

2006-02-01T01:39:00.000+11:00

Ten days ago, Video Hits was rolling off the number 1 hit of every year from 1990 till 2004. For 1993 it was the 11.55 minute epic, I'd Do Anything For Love by the rotund rocker Meatloaf.

How do I know it was released in 1993? How do I know the song runs for 11.55? Because I own the album it is cut from: Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell. Reliving about five minutes of the clip lead me to dig up the CD from the very depths of my wardrobe.

Of the many embarrasing albums I puchased as a pre-teen (or tween as modern marketing has come to describe adolescents between the age of 8 and 12) Metaloaf's return to the mainstream Bat Out of Hell II is one of the more notable. Others include Ace of Base's The Sign (the home of hits such as All That She Wants and The Sign) and a Rod Stewart album that may may not have had the song Downtown Train on it.

But I digress...

Bat Out of Hell II wasn't the album alone either, it was the special limited edition enhansed album. This went beyond the duties of a special limited edition enhansed album, this included a poster - a Meatlof poster.

Behond the scarf clenching sexiness:

Clearly my 11 year old self needed a better set of role models.

A Poem

2006-01-29T18:04:00.000+11:00

*ahem*

Collette
You are hot.
So hot.
Still so very hot.

Warren.
Blows.
So blows.
Still so very blows.

WHY.

Why, why why.

...why.

*bows for applause*

Our Wankers in Havana

2006-01-25T23:00:00.000+11:00

Cat Empire recorded their album Two Shoes in Cuba.

Utter blow hards.

1000 Steps.

2006-01-18T18:29:00.000+11:00

Your old friend The Student is in the midst of a healthkick at the moment, as free time allows me to try and get a fit before uni fires back into life and eats up all my time.

A well known, and rather steep, walking track out my way is the '1000 steps' - a walking track the works its way up into the forest. A few mates, and myself have been doing this track two or three times a week for the past few weeks.

I am by no means a fit person, but I think it's probably not cool when i am stuffed after about ten steps. Regardless, my unwavering desire to actualy subject myself to the torture, sometimes at 7am, is testament to sort of thing that goes on during January - the month of nothing.

On your way up, you pass people on their way down. They greet you with an empathetic look on their face as they pass you, aware of the build up of lactic acid in your thighs and calves as you climb step after step, and the vague 'why the fuck am I doing this?' thoughts in your head.

The Great Outdoors website chooses to highlight a more unusual feature of the track:

Kokoda Track Memorial Walk
Upper Ferntree Gully, Dandenong Ranges VIC

Located in the Dandenong Ranges, a 40 minute drive north east of Melbourne, this is a one to two hour uphill walk of medium difficulty which takes you through the State Park. The walk incorporates 1000 steps and has 13 commemorative plagues along the way.

Heathen joggers be warned.

I never sugarcoat a shakedown.

2006-01-14T23:35:00.000+11:00

...and I mean never!

The later half of Friday was spent at the cricket - one day cricket. The Australian innings was pretty entertaining, the Sri Lankan one not so much. The bogan element was alive and well in the crowd, with the blue singlet in force. As were swarms of loud mouth 14 year olds in the formative years of the development of their mature male selves.

Okay. I'm approaching my mid twenties, as Cavalier reminded me during a round of golf on Friday morning. The tendancy is, even in my slightly older youth, to always say 'I was never like that' and 'we weren't such cocks when I was 14' - truth is of course, that we were.

But let it stand that some kids are just cocks.

When I was in my teens, I had misappropriated arrogance and alcohol as an excuse for public displays of wankery. These guys had mob mentality to make up for arrogance, didn't have alcohol as an excuse for two reasons; a) no one would serve them, and b) you cannot get pissed off mid-strength beer that costs $5.20 per glass anyway.

Oh, and one of them had a whistle.

Wankers.

Ghost of leader passed haunts Lennon.

2006-01-11T17:16:00.000+11:00

Many like to lament (in my view sometimes unfairly) the federal ALP leadership of Mark Latham.

I, on the otherhand, like to celebrate the sweet justice that is karma.

From The Age:

"It was revealed today Mr Lennon received thousands of dollars worth of free accommodation when he accepted an upgrade to a six-star suite at Melbourne's Crown Towers during last year's spring racing carnival.

The upgrade came just days before Mr Lennon signed off on a $700 million internet gambling licence to James Packer."

Karma indeed.

World Series Grogblogging

2006-01-11T00:47:00.000+11:00

No coloured uniforms, no white balls, no drop in pitches, no Kerry Packer.

Just me and Ruth having some beers.

We're the brash new television friendly version of the tired old grogblogging format!

dripping

2006-01-09T01:09:00.000+11:00

Dear Heat,

Hey! Have I told you how much I love you lately? Seriously, I love you. I have missed you so much. Heck, I even flew to Queensland to see you in August.

But - and I want you to know it's a small thing - but I just want you to fuck off at night when I'm trying to sleep. Seriously, I have shit to do during the day that requires me being remotely alert, and I need sleep to do that.

You're sticking around till February, maybe March. This will work a lot better for both of us if you can take it easy at night - and remember, I still love you.

Love, The Student.

Our Differences

2006-01-04T00:35:00.000+11:00

Encountering a figure of your past, only to find the only thing which hasn't changed is the single about them you hate most - is positively crushing.

Zoe from way back.

2006-01-03T00:00:00.000+11:00

During the ABC's radio coverage of the Boxing Day Test between Australia and South Africa, from here in Melbourne - guest commentator and retired Australian womens cricket captain Belinda Clark mentioned Zoe Goss.

ZOE GOSS!

Way back in 1994 during a Bradman Foundation charity match, Goss famously (or perhaps not so famously since I'm going over this for you) got all conquering West Indian batsman Brian Lara out. Lara was bowled out by a girl, as a nation of cricket loving men swooned for the pretty Goss, with her shoulder length brown hair, pretty smile and playful sports skirt.

I am seriously dark on the fact that the internet seems to contain not one single image of Goss playing in this game, in order to aid my description of what made her such a spunk - apart from the fact that she had just messed up Brian Lara's shit.

Goss is 37 now, and is still playing for Western Australia. She was the toast of the cricketing world for a brief period, before becoming the answer to a sportsmans night trivia question. In true underpaid Australian sportwoman tradition, Goss went on to pose for an Inside Sport shoot some time following. Luckily, I am able to provide you with a copy of that below.

It is a crying shame that there isnt a shrine, online or otherwise to the wicket that helped spawn some of the tastiest fruit of tokenism Australia has seen.

Zoe Goss, I - and the twelve year old I, salute you.

there is more

2006-01-02T11:34:00.000+11:00

The sort of optimistic aura that held me last new year has returned somewhat as I arrive in 2006.

The opportunity to cast bad habits, activities and people off as last years baggage is one I'm sure most of us look forward to.

Where 2003 was definatly craptactular, the better years are a little harder to pin down. 2005 was good to me, the same way 2004 was. I guess if you make it to the end of the year alive, you're doing okay - I'll say that 2005 was good, great even, but it's hard to quantify what makes it so.

There's a few non descript big events coming up for me this year, and similar to last new year, two big weddings on the horizon.

And... I'm still single.

And lets not forget that university is stil... going... seemingly... forever.

Have a great 2006 assorted readers.

A White Russian Christmas

2005-12-28T16:39:00.000+11:00

I'm on holidays, of sorts. I have four main committments, and I am free of 3 of the 4 for the next few weeks. This is a close to a holiday as it gets for me.

*notices the faint sounds of a tiny violin*

The easiest thing about holidays is sleeping in late, and gorgeing myself on a succession of Christmas/New Year social occasions. The hardest thing has been relaxing, it took about a week for me to withdraw from constantly thinking about work, what I have to do next, when I am working next, what needs to be organised.

One of my work commitments is approaching a part of it's lifecycle that is reasonably strategy intensive, the workload is intangible. I get trapped into thinking about it all too much, outside of work hours, at other jobs, in church... well maybe not in church.

Thankfully that has subsided as Melbourne enjoys a period of unseasonably hot weather.

With Jono's cousin Hunter out from the Shetlands, a Scottish (nee Norwegian) outpost, at the Edge of the World; we set about visiting Trentham for a post Boxing Day short 'oliday.

To encapsulate a hot day and a the following days hangover into one long run on sentense, the 'oliday went like this: golf clubs, story about a post op transexual stripper, dry - looks funny, Powderfinger brush with fame story, golf, shafe, beers, blue bar staff, test cricket, whoops, jerky, former owner character assasination, parma, dessert, good white russians, hottest AAMI chick ever, Jono nap, bad white russians, pool, in ter nash on al poole rools, still no good at pool, two lady geologists, general banter, bad pool, references to intimate apparel, Crownie, closed bar, no geologists, nothing, Jono awake, Joe Pesci movie, illadvised hour long walk in the dark in the name of fitness, random text message, strategic text message, attempt at reading, sleep, 9am knock at the door, seedy, golf, nap, seediness, home.

Ahh, I guess you had to be there.

Reap What You Sow

2005-12-13T18:34:00.000+11:00

I've been dying to do this sort of thing all year.

John Howard replies to questions regarding the riots in Cronulla.

PRIME MINISTER: No, I said what I said. I do not believe Australians are racist. I thought the behaviour yesterday was quite unacceptable and I said that attacking anybody on the basis of their race or their colour or their appearance is quite unacceptable.

Unless, they're on a boat, right John?

Dear John

2005-12-03T01:40:00.000+11:00

(Does anyone else remember that show Dear John? With the theme song - Dear John, life goes on, by the time, you read these lines, I'll be gone - am I alone? Can I get a fucking aye?)

Anyone who has watched much of (Music) Max on Foxtel would be aware of the nervously painful show Later with Jools Holland. Jools is a diminutive British music addict who hosts a music show which about jamming - or jamin' for the kidz - with the hot music acts of the day. While the older episodes are painfully dated - the more recent episodes aren't bad. The shows gets loads of British local and top notch international groups.

Suffering in comparison is John Foreman's contribution to Friday nights, is The Big Night In with John Foreman.

Okay, firstly, that hair is a fucking disgrace John, a fucking disgrace. Anyway, right down to the flourishing cut offs of his assembled cats as he leads in from a commercial break, piano-side chats, and moving head shakes during a song, John heartily rips off Jools Holland's gig to a T.

The key difference is the caliber of acts that Jools and John get. Jools, quality. John... need I say more?

As an aside, imagine ringing your friends after you'd wound up playing in Russell Crowe's backing band? Could anyone ever take you seriously again after you'd publicly uttered the words 'Yeah, I'm playing gigs Russell Crowe'?

John's The Big Night In is running neck and neck with Hot Dogs' The Uplate Game Show and Ryan Fitzgerald's media career for the title of worst reality TV spin off.

No stars damnit.

So, Sally Can Wait

2005-12-02T18:26:00.000+11:00

Summer has begun, as a night at work is replaced with an evening at Melbourne's Festival Hall being treated to a set from the clearly semi-retired Oasis.

While the seats (yes, seats - at Festival Hall - 9 kilometers from the action) were fine - and we were able to stand thankfully, we were surrounded by an acre of poor dentistry and limey accents.

Being afforded the opportunity to hear some songs from my teens played live and with a degree of passion is not without it's benefits, but there is no question that Oasis, no matter where the vantage point, were going through the motions.

On a hot night, following the first boiling day of the new season, the crowd sweated and sung through a fine dining list of their better old stuff - and some acquired tastes in the form of their new stuff. Following a few hours of a trio of short shorts wearing girls to our immediate front and four-beer-at-a-time trips to the bar, Oasis finished with My Generation, which I hate. I hate The Who. I hate My Generation.

A long short walk down into the city for several drinks at a wind down after the show followed, and was then followed with another long walk to where I had parked at the very top of Elizabeth Street. The very top of Elizabeth Street is the central part of the 'Canberra End' of Melbourne.

Sparse and lifeless, littered with parking signs, the Canberra End of Melbourne is the home of nothing.

The trip between the bar and the car was highlighted by a requisite stop for food. In the middle of making our order, the secret-life-of-us-three-episode-cameo-actor-bad-haircut sporting 'assistant' to the chief hamburger maker challenged me and Jono to a 'hit of cricket' while he held up a bat and a rubbery ball to help illustrate his point.

We wondered through the back of the shop to a chichi alleyway where I fielded at silly mid off and Jono rolled his Tony Dodemaide arm over in answer to the burger assistant's facing up.

Two hamburgers, a Coke, a chosen for it's comedic value when eating a double cheese burger Diet Coke and a pile of chips later, we walked to my car thankfully still parked in the Canberra End of Melbourne.

Then it was off to the South Eastern Suburbs, via Richmond.