But just WHO shot WHO?

So Australian got beaten by Italy in the dying moments of the game ... it couldn't happen to a nicer country ... Not so long ago the term soccer was unknown to them. Instead the beautiful game was called wogball since it was played only be reffos and seppos (that's refugees and Guiseppes, i.e., Italo-Australians for those of you playing an away match) ... and the wooftas would kiss each other after scoring goals ... But if its on the world stage Australian sports fan will support anything ....

Of course, in Australia now with the advent of the new breed of wowsers (used to mean conservatives, but strangely now means people who spoil conservatives fun by frowning on racism, sexism and any other dismissive practices) we kiwis are the only acceptable minority that you can bait freely and safely in public. Yes the poor picked on little brothers of brasher trans-Tasman cousins ...

I'll say no more since all of my family bar one sister are Australians now ...

In other news it has stopped raining. If this keeps up the mud will dry out in a month or so. Ended up going to L and D's house to celebrate Matariki ... the Maori New Year with the most Anglo of dinners, roast lamb and christmas pud ... all that was missing was a speech from the queen.

I failed to mention in the previous post that I ended up Karaoke-ing on my night out with the solo mums. Now I have Copa Cabana stuck in my head, well in fact just the opening verse. In honour of the evening I present to you, Lola ... she was a show duck ... yes a forgotten photo from the chicken show ... Lola was entered in the poodle duck section, so that's a little more than a feather in her hair ...

tilting at windmills

This is me, yesterday. Except of course I have two arms not three. Despite going out on Friday night or even because of it, yesterday the black mood continued. Went through the gorge to W'ville with R and her daughter to look at antiques. The cold and ark interiors with that always-the-same smell didn't lift my mood. On the way back we took the saddle road and drove through the windmill farms. They are amazing and majestic up close and I like seeing them on the horizon, but others complain about the visual pollution they create ... I have realised I live a very quiet life. I mean I know that I don't go out much and have a reduced social circle here compared to the big city, but I am talking about noise or lack of it. I enjoy the fact that my house is rather, silent, moastic even between the bouts of tourette's like cursing ... Visiting friends with kids, the shouting, the bickering, the constant narrating of action really wears me down. Perhaps I should play more shouty music when I clean to build up some immunity to it ...

Anyways here are some more pics of windmills in the gloom ...

grump of blog

Blog of grump ... I have been in a foul mood for five days and I don't know why. I just seem to come home, shut the door and curse ... swear like a trooper ... and now I have missed the documentary on Tourettes teens on vacation ... at last something on the telly to identify with. I like umpteen billion around the globe have been watching the world cup, and while not the source has been contributing to my mood. I have four teams I sort of want to win. More to the point I have a long list of teams I absolutely don't want to win. I pulled Spain out of the hat for the sweepstake and watched them cheat their way to success over lovely slavic Ukraine. The cash would be nice but on theback of such hollywooding umpire bothering mailto:m@#$##$#(*rs. the fucking computer thinks that's a link ... see what I mean ... I also watched some other probably highly fancied team beat Cote D'Ivoire with the assistance of a racist gang of umpires ...

I have made a new friend though, her name is Sarah she rings every night to ask me if I want to change my telecommunications provider ... and you know I do.

My house is pretty clean and tidy if you were wondering slash planning to visit ... I'm sure it will lift my mood.

ps. apols for any offence regarding tourette's syndrome.

the dove from above

Blogger blipped and lost the photos
I guess these are really pigeons ... Actually I don't know what the difference is ...

Strange pigeon show fact! I discovered that I had a bit of an crush with the president of the national pigeon club. That must make me a pigeon-fancier fancier!?!

at one with the birds

keeping with rural themes this weekend I went to a chicken breeding show, as you do. I thought it would be amusing, and it was for about 20 minutes. Sadly we stayed a little longer than that.
As a proud owner of a chicken, I was keen to confirm that my Putu who likes like a cross between a fowl and a vulture - a notable lack of neck feathers - is a special fancy breed. But alas there were no vulture chickens on display leaving me to assume that she is some special kin dof ugly island chicken. There were however chickens disguised as cushions, balls of cotton wools and miniature eagle-y looking ones - perhaps what Putu's breeders were going for?
I was also interested to see if the dog and their owner correlation also applied to poultry fanciers. But it seems that it does not - I saw no Edith Sitwell types clutching their hens or roosters ...

I took some photos for you ... though they are not so good ... the roosters wouldn't keep still ...



Let's say this one was intentionally blurred .... "rooster descending a stair"

There was luck would have it a pigeon fanciers' convention in the same building. I have always found it hard to imagine fancying a pigeon, but they have been manipulating the genes so long that some of them looked like Parisian models from the days of Elsa Schiaparelli

Do you cud here often?

Lesbian cows! Tonight on the way home, I saw lesbian cows, and that's not an epithet. I'm talking about bovine ladies mounting each other. Frotting friesans!

On getting home after cruising the supermarket seeing some of their sisters sliced, diced, minced and wrapped in plastic, I decided to lean on my trusted friend, Google, and searched bovine+lesbianism (Join in at home, kids!). Surprisingly homosexuality in the animal kingdom is a hot topic operationalised for all number of arguments - the banal ... genetics might suppose there are shared traits across species ... the existence of God ... whether lesbian cows would go to hell, Moophispoheles! When Hell friesans over! sorry couldn't resist the puns ... my favourite quote though from some discussion board was this one:

To those that argue there are homosexual mammels [sic] in the animal kingdom...yes this is true but who is to say that the same evolutionary mistake cannot occur in the animal world as well

and my favourite article was this one ... yet another chance to bash scientific research ...
http://www.theregister.co.uk/2004/09/03/lesbian_cows/ ... okay so I can't do fancy hidden links ...

What is more important to note might be that we seem to need to operationalise the animal kingdom to support or degenerate arguments which solely concern humans. Why not take our cue from the other cows, who calmy stood by chewing away, who didn't say "aha, nature over nurture!" 'Or that proves it, god loves homosexual holsteins!"

Mummy, what's a sex pistol?

I realised I haven't written about cleaning for a very long time. Make of that what you will. Got back from the big city where I ran into lots of excellent people (hello there) and didn't have time to see others, (also hello there). Today I plan to tidy my house, and in fact do some decorating.
I have been meaning to hang up this crazy set of learn Japanese and Chinese flashcards that I bought some time ago, and just got round to choosing the precise set to grace my walls when I noticed this one.


It took me quite some time to realise that it was not sperm, but tadpoles. Still an odd choice to illustrate this concept. In fact there are some rather odd choices in the rest of the packet. The picture of the rather charming rooster is labelled cock, and the set also includes swing, comb and a very spooky rendering of a white cat. I think many, though, would make a good t-shirt.

so that's how the world sees me

I must do something about my appearance. Down in the big city on Friday I got handed a flyer for destiny dating service. Later a man asked me for spare change and then added the questions, 'are you on the street too?' I don't know what that means - either I look homeless or I look like a sex worker. Either way, not very affirming.