An almost perfect afternoon:
Sitting alone on the floor
Eating a half brick-sized 'slice' of Christmas cake with a steak knife
Watching the entirety of Scrubs season 4 a metre away from the TV (no glasses)
Did I mention I wasn't wearing pants?
Underpants?
So: wearing an artfully draped winter scarf.
Front door open to invite airflow AND RANDOM VISITORS
Good news: he realised pretty quickly he had the wrong house
Bad news: he looked like an axe-murderer
Resume Scrubs
Move onto Shandy's home-made rocky road
Put on some pants
Wednesday 27 January 2010
Tuesday 26 January 2010
yesterday i woke up sucking a lemon
australia/invasion day.
just when i thought the mess that was christmas consumerism was over the new wave of proclaimed patriots sweep into the stores grabbing anything and everything with kangaroos, the colours green and gold, or the phrase 'gday' plastered over it. Sales of aussie flag bikinis and vegemite jars are sent soaring and these seem to be the only products one can find to validate their place in the world. My over-patriotic dad would fall into this category where free hats in newpapers become the highlight of the year. Once again he threw his annual bbq which was decorated solely by the $2 australiana section of 'House', and with tablecloths, tee-shirts and balloons i wouldn't be surprised if from an aerial viepoint the roof of my house was covered in a giant australian flag. Countless times yesterday he barged inside - aussie beer stubby in hand - accusing his offspring of being 'un-australian'. I'm fairly sure he gave up on me years ago but the realisation his sons are beginning to lose interest in his overdone patriotism seems to shake him to the core. 'It's your countrys BIRTHDAY' he would say to us solemnly while shaking his head, a statement when translated to dad-speak can be roughly decoded to mean 'and for not dressing up, you are dead to me'. I wonder if he realises this birthday he speaks of was the day the British hoisted their flag in Sydney Cove, and was followed by the slaughter of thousands of Aborigines. It's kind of funny really - listening to him rant yesterday the only person he reminded me of was the father from 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' instructing his kids 'give me a word - any word - and i will show you how the root of that word is greek'. Yesterday dad was telling my younger brother 'any other country and you'd be either working or dodging bullets. Go on. Give me a country. Any country'. Soon enough I could hear him ramble about the dangers of Ireland and the IRA and how even today walking down the street and a bin could just explode. Maybe he has the same mindset as the father in the recent tv ad who believed the great wall of china was built to keep the rabbits out. I can see how quickly appreciating ones place in the world on australia day can turn to gloating and competing.
Ok - poor dad. I realise he was brought up differently and crushing his sense of patriotism would absolutely crush the essence of his being. But why do we feel such a need to belong? Screw nations. Can't we believe in people instead?
I must admit though - the day wasn't all bad. We did find little ways to torture him by saying we were putting a movie on - his choice of the wog boy, my big fat greek wedding, american ninja, aladdin or the last king of scotland.
Once again I was greeted by the 'dead to me' glare. Ah, how I missed you old friend.
just when i thought the mess that was christmas consumerism was over the new wave of proclaimed patriots sweep into the stores grabbing anything and everything with kangaroos, the colours green and gold, or the phrase 'gday' plastered over it. Sales of aussie flag bikinis and vegemite jars are sent soaring and these seem to be the only products one can find to validate their place in the world. My over-patriotic dad would fall into this category where free hats in newpapers become the highlight of the year. Once again he threw his annual bbq which was decorated solely by the $2 australiana section of 'House', and with tablecloths, tee-shirts and balloons i wouldn't be surprised if from an aerial viepoint the roof of my house was covered in a giant australian flag. Countless times yesterday he barged inside - aussie beer stubby in hand - accusing his offspring of being 'un-australian'. I'm fairly sure he gave up on me years ago but the realisation his sons are beginning to lose interest in his overdone patriotism seems to shake him to the core. 'It's your countrys BIRTHDAY' he would say to us solemnly while shaking his head, a statement when translated to dad-speak can be roughly decoded to mean 'and for not dressing up, you are dead to me'. I wonder if he realises this birthday he speaks of was the day the British hoisted their flag in Sydney Cove, and was followed by the slaughter of thousands of Aborigines. It's kind of funny really - listening to him rant yesterday the only person he reminded me of was the father from 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' instructing his kids 'give me a word - any word - and i will show you how the root of that word is greek'. Yesterday dad was telling my younger brother 'any other country and you'd be either working or dodging bullets. Go on. Give me a country. Any country'. Soon enough I could hear him ramble about the dangers of Ireland and the IRA and how even today walking down the street and a bin could just explode. Maybe he has the same mindset as the father in the recent tv ad who believed the great wall of china was built to keep the rabbits out. I can see how quickly appreciating ones place in the world on australia day can turn to gloating and competing.
Ok - poor dad. I realise he was brought up differently and crushing his sense of patriotism would absolutely crush the essence of his being. But why do we feel such a need to belong? Screw nations. Can't we believe in people instead?
I must admit though - the day wasn't all bad. We did find little ways to torture him by saying we were putting a movie on - his choice of the wog boy, my big fat greek wedding, american ninja, aladdin or the last king of scotland.
Once again I was greeted by the 'dead to me' glare. Ah, how I missed you old friend.
Sunday 17 January 2010
Saturday 9 January 2010
Christmas 2010
Call me over-prepared, but I have a good feeling about this year's festive season.
For one thing, by beginning it a good eleven and a half months earlier than usual, I can let my beggared uni student fingers do the walking all over the spurned commercial excesses of last year in the frenzy that is the post-Christmas sales. Bargain-basement Santa Claus.
Also, there has been the promise of creme brulee at our first annual Christmas dinner. The downside being that it was promised by me. With all the culinary skill of a one-legged panda backing me up, this is potentially problematic - but oh, the hijinks that will ensue!
So, mehearties, put on your seasonal novelty paper crowns, go eat some tinsel, and prepare yourselves for a tale of Christmas such as you've never heard before.....
For one thing, by beginning it a good eleven and a half months earlier than usual, I can let my beggared uni student fingers do the walking all over the spurned commercial excesses of last year in the frenzy that is the post-Christmas sales. Bargain-basement Santa Claus.
Also, there has been the promise of creme brulee at our first annual Christmas dinner. The downside being that it was promised by me. With all the culinary skill of a one-legged panda backing me up, this is potentially problematic - but oh, the hijinks that will ensue!
So, mehearties, put on your seasonal novelty paper crowns, go eat some tinsel, and prepare yourselves for a tale of Christmas such as you've never heard before.....
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