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Tuesday, May 24, 2005

42 Cambodian Midgets, a Lion and Jar Jar

'Womp rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'll never know, 'cause even if it did I wouldn't eat the filthy mother f-cker.'
Jedi Master Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson)

Hoops has this demented obsession with midgets. Specifically midget wrestlers. So it came as no great surprise when I received this in my in-box. Yup. It's that story that apparently answers the 'age old question' of who would win in a fight- 42 Cambodian midgets or an African Lion?
It ain't the midgets.
At the end of the massacre and with many many dead/ dying midgets my thoughts turned, naturally, to the latest Star Wars movie.

The newest offering from the Ewok-like George Lucas had the Jedi council playing the part of the 42 Cambodian midgets with the Emperor being the Lion. I had gone to see the film on Sunday with the sole purpose of seeing Jar Jar Binks get killed in some way.( I know of families out there who stay together only because of their mutual hatred of Jar Jar. That hatred is binding. It is Velcro. It is the cement foundation with the bodies of Mafia informants entombed above an apartment block. Solid. Unmovable. I digress.) I was bitterly, bitterly disappointed (Re- Death of Jar Jar. The actual film was pretty good ).

You knew that the Jedi were screwed when they started recruiting coneheads to their group. Even Mace 'Hand me my lightsaber...it's the one that says, 'Bad Motherf-cker'' Windu, a tough hombre, was going to get his arse kicked. We've known from 1977 that Jedis were going to be wiped out by the Sith. Which some might find comforting. The circle is complete.Ouroboros. The series of films had been getting gradualy less and less likable anyway and I'm just glad it ended well (ie. with the death of most of the good guys).

Frickin' Jar Jar,

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Annoying American on the Train

I firmly believe that the longest distance between two points is made longer by having an annoying American journeying with you. I embarked on a train in Richmond to get to the City the other day. Usually this is maybe a five minute journey...eight, if they have to scrape off messy suicide victims from the tracks. In the carriage was an American fella trying to chat up a girl. No problem. Didn't think much of it. Misread the warning glances shot my way by other passengers on the same carriage.

'Why is it that folks 'round here want to know where you come from? Why?' He's saying.

'Maybe they want to....'the girl starts.

'I mean who cares right? Back home folks'd be like "Hi! How're you doin? What's your name? What do you do?" But over here everyone is like, "Where are you from?"y'know? Have they never seen a black guy before or what?'

Or maybe the racial issue was secondary to the accent you have? Just a thought. Why travel if you don't at least expect that the "Where are you from?" question may pop up several times.

We would go to extreme lenghts to not listen to this fool

So the journey went on and on- me resisting the urge to gnaw my arm off to make good my escape, everyone else in the carriage withholding the impulse to slug the guy and the girl being the target of this onslaught of banality.

Are we there yet?

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Shopping with Stacia

I feel an F.Gump quote coming on. Something like ;
'Shopping with Stacia is lahke a box of choc-lits. You
never know what you're going tuh get.'- I now know
that it is actually possible to attempt to buy a dvd
player and end up with organic cereal and a bottle of
olive oil.

Stacia is my ex-housemate of some years ago (Yes-
THAT house where I became the Red-Headed Stepchild of
Telstra) and is possessed with a personality that is
much like a stampede of cattle or , say, a viking
horde. She has wild hair and her arms flail about
wildly when she tells a story. She is forever losing
keys and running late for work making everyday events
into little adventures where the outcome is uncertain.
A whirlwind of energy. Easily distracted.

We all know the story of 'Jack and the Beanstalk.'
Jack (a naive simpleton plagued with a slew of
behavioural problems) is given some dough to buy a
cow- a relatively straightforward task. On returning
home Jack's family ,who are expecting to see some kind
of cow-like animal, are a tad bewildered to learn of
Jack's rather interesting on-the-spot decision to
purchase some magic beans. They then take turns to
thrash Jack to within an inch of his miserable life.
Well going to buy anything with Stacia is kind of like
going shopping with Jack.

Stash gets distracted thus....'Hmmm, I don't know.
All the dvd players are a bit expensive (we wander
into Target- a store designed for people like Stacia/
Jack/ Robin Williams). Hey! Look at the make-up kit.
So cheap! Should I buy the make-up kit? (Me: No) I
guess I don't really need it. But I do need a c.d.rack
(Me: Not today you don't). How about a lamp? (Me: For
f-cks sake! No!) O.k, o.k. But let's buy some organic
cereal. It's really yummy and comes in a
Hessian-bag-sort-of-thing(Me: Fine. Whatever). And
some olive oil. I forgot to buy olive oil when I went
shopping earlier today (Me:.......). Ooooh. I need a
saucepan. I always burn things in the saucepans at
home (Me: Please, can we not buy a saucepan today?) I
suppose. Hey look! A dvd player!'

Shop till you drop,