Professionalism

Friday Extravaganza

On Friday I visited my delightfully mad aunt who totally rocks. It was my turn to cook, so I brought the ingredients for the second version of a Italian seafood dish with which to impress the Hot Interior Designer.

(You may recall my aunt is an avid cook and generally awesome woman for whom I acted as chauffeur and butler on a two week driving holiday/seafood odyssey into Victoria last October.
We discussed many recipes on the way including many she disparaged.
Aunt: I mean, look at this! Fennel and Rocket Salad!? Easy! And yet there's a recipe for it.
Nephew: Yes, it's hardly Fennel and Rocket science.)

The morning after the marinara, I suffered a sneezing fit as she talked about the unique way she puts extension leads away on coat-hangers. An old friend was insufficiently impressed by this organisational feat.
"Sorry, I'm allergic to anecdotes," I manage to splutter.

Later I found a jar of hers that formerly held chili seeds, labeled 'Long Thin Hotness'.
"That's me when I'm lying down" I say.

Apparently I am an unending source of disappointment to her.

But, she _did_ like the marinara if not so much the way it was executed.
"There you were leaping about in a drunken rage: "What do I do with a stab blender?!" and I *told* you some woman managed to cut ALL her fingers off because she wasn't paying attention...."

That night I dreamt of a man who sacrificed his two unicorns and his soul to Bill Clinton, but I guess there are better ways to advertise that I have a loose concept of reality.

Found on my desk

...but it still tasted good.

Doing My Bit for the Media

Dear Mr Gittins,

I usually find your columns to be the best in the SMH, and find myself agreeing with your arguments.

However, your column on the 15^th of August “How Rich Breeders Shaped the World” was woeful. Clarks’ hypothesis and reasoning are so splutteringly preposterous I can’t but wonder why you (a) reviewed him at all, and (b) why you didn’t give him both barrels as he so thoroughly deserved.

Even allowing for his complete and absolute ignorance of evolutionary biology, his arguments are totally intellectually offensive and if this is his contribution to humanity then my only wish is that he be rolled in barbed wire and fed to lobsters as soon as is feasible.

Below, for your enjoyment, is my just-shy-of-apoleptic critique of Clark’s arse-clownery as depicted in your column

http://business.smh.com.au/business/how-rich-breeders-shaped-the-world-20080815-3wce.html?page=fullpage#contentSwap1 that I sent to a friend.

Regards,
Harry Simpson

(Note: "just-shy-of-apoleptic critique" not included here.)

Take that, almost B. Sc.!

Me doing my bit for the Advancement of Science.

One of my varied tasks in the Advancement of Science is to make new user registers for the autoclaves and ultrafuges. They are those thick plastic spine bond books what you put together yourself.
(Next week: Harry Advances the English Language)
So my boss, Philgor the Mighty AKA Philgor Defendor of Enmore, took me down to the paper room of the faculty office on Level 4.
This room houses a large printer, the supplies of coloured paper, heavy duty staplers, the binding machine and the like.

The process by which one makes such a book is this:
1) print pages.
2) select cover and back and find the right size binding spine.
3) Put spine in the opening-out-er bit.
4) Put about 8 pages in the groove that aligns then all
5) Pull the handle that punches the holes
6) Then thread them onto the out-sprung spine.

Or, as Phil gleefully put it:
(Points to large printer)
"One machine to print them"
(Point at groove)
"One to align them"
(Point top lever)
"One machine to punch the holes"
(Point to spine springer bit)
"And in the darkness BIND them!"

China lied about ...oh, everything still.

Well, the little girl who sang at the opening ceremony was lipsync-ing to another voice.
The fireworks were pre-recorded and not the ones actually let off.
The good news for us is the home ground advantage for the medal count because the games aren't in Beijing at all. They're in Dubbo at the secret government facility I keep reading about in Paranoid Christian Magazine AKA The Philadelphia Trumpet.
And it's not smog - it's a smoke screen to obscure human rights abuses.

But even with the home ground advantage Steph Rice won't win eight gold medals and this PROVES that we aren't investing enough money in sport these days. Or underwear ads.
Cut the pension from $277 to $210 and the dole from $219 to $195. It's for the country.

Also, those shoes I was crowing about?
Well... they were crap.

I got teh blues

I went to live jazz last night at the Macquarie Hotel near Central Station.
One of my housemates works in a cafe and one of her regulars is the singer and said to come along. So we did.
I don't much care for jazz so I was very happy when it was actually blues. Slinky sexy blues with the singer in just past elbow length black gloves without fingers. Zow!
I leaned over to Sparkly Sara and declared that I wanted to marry those gloves.
A few minutes later she leaned back and said "I think _everybody_ wants to marry those gloves."
Too true.

And - get this - at the station on the way to the gig I found a pair of shoes. And they were my size. I am wearing them today and telling everyone at work. The jealousy was all too evident.
Someone said I was "special". Well I must be special because I don't see THEM getting free shoes, do I?!?!?!

Anyway, the Macquarie Hotel is a brew pub and has some quite nice beers. Of the six on offer I think the dark is best.
The band is one each Sunday of August from 5pm until 8:30. Double bass, guitar, drums and keys.
A very recommended and cruise-y way to end the week.