New clothes

Yesterday I went to the Warehouse (NZ's equivalent of Walmart for my American readers) and bought some new bras and knickers. Quel horreur! I am now an 18DD! Never in my wildest skinniest little youth did I ever think I would get to be so big. When I was 16 or so, I had tiny wee boobs (but then I was skinny all over), and boys didn't even bother to make my acquaintance. I was crushed when I was 14 and at a Youth Club do (remember Youth Clubs?) and overheard two boys looking for pussy. "What about her?" said one to the other. "Nah, she's flat" said the other. Little shits. Still it was an introduction, albeit harsh, into the way boys minds work. Such a pity that their attributes were not on public display. I would have loved to be able to say "Nah, you're miniscule". I can only hope that the laws of karma have gifted him with chronic impotence in his later life.

Grrr uploader! and St Gertrude.

Uploader still not working for photos. I'll have to go via Flickr if this continues, a much more tedious process.
I've found my patron saint. She is St Gertrude of Nivelles, patron saint of cats and those who own them, also gardeners, herbalists, travellers in search of lodging and the souls of the newly dead. She can be invoked against rats/mice and mental illness.  Perfect.  She is portrayed in art as a nun with a traveller's staff, with mice running up it. She shares her saint-day with St Patrick, but she did act as hostess to travelling Irish priests in her abbey at Nivelles in Belgium, so perhaps she quite enjoyed a little raucous blarney.  Slainte, Saint Gertrude.

"Weird Al" Yankovic - Smells Like Nirvana

Saw a brief doco about Nirvana the other day, full of the faithful reciting the recieved knowledge that Nirvana was the greatest band of all time. Well, this is my reply, courtesy of the wonderful Weird Al. Way better than the original.

Summer!

I was hoping to upload some pics but the uploader is not working. Apparently its not just me but across the board, so... perhaps later or tomorrow.
 The good news is that we've had some great weather lately, real summer, not the faux summer which has a cold wind. It's great to be able to walk around and not be conscious of how cold it is. I had my first swim today at Magazine Bay (there's an old bunker for explosives that ships had to offload there before they went into port, nothing to do with glossies). I don't think I've ever swum there before, even though I've lived here all my life. The water was really warm, pleasantly surprizing, as I was braced for our usual freezing temps.  And had it mostly to myself, as Corsair Bay, the more popular beach because it has a carpark, was getting crowded. I left just as the bogans and home-boys started arriving, with their beers and boom-boxes. It was great, everything is getting that dry, burnt quality of a proper summer, the smell of pine-needles and dust and seaweed. I lay on the beach and actually sun-bathed; its hardly ever warm enough to do that here.
    But some people must sun-bathe a lot. There were two gay guys not far away, both of them the colour of a leather hand-bag. They looked really out of place, like they'd strayed from Sydney or the Costa Smeralda, and were a little horrified to have to watch fat, pale old blobs like me. I could practically hear them...."Look at that...Oh, my very dear! She won't get lucky anytime soon!" "OOO its udderly horrible!"

The Muslim Jesus

This is the name of a fascinating doco I watched last night on youTube. Made by ITV, it reveals the Jesus of Islam, and the reverence the Muslims have for him and Mary. But any hope that this may serve as a meeting ground between Christians and Muslims is pretty soon knocked on the head; the Muslim Jesus-story is very different and the crucial part (the crucifixion, excuse the pun) effectively negates Christianity. In the Muslim version, Jesus is helped to escape when God turns Judas into a Jesus-look-alike and he is crucified instead, while Jesus is air-lifted into heaven by a Special-Ops force of angels. (I much prefer this version, it has such a logical narrative and would make a great movie) But it thereby negates all the 'he died for our sins' notion of the sacrificial lamb. Muslims also deny the divinity of Christ; to them he was a great prophet, but a man not a god. He ate, he shitted, he caroused with his mates, therefore he was not a god; a god would not do these things. But he is revered. In the great mosque in Medina, next to the grave of Mohammed, is an empty grave, waiting for the body of Jesus, whenever it will be found after he returns and he has fought successfully with the AntiChrist.
   Watch this if you can. And laugh at the evangelical Christians who scoff at the Muslim version as being just fairy-tales, and the Christian version as the truth.

A day in the life

Woke with good intentions of getting lots of 'stuff' done today - you know, stuff like clearing out drawers, getting tidy in the garage, etc.etc. but it turned out I couldn't be bothered doing 'stuff'. So I've done stuff all instead.
    I did plant some vegetables out and tidy the garden a bit, and make some blackcurrant jam (my own blackcurrants) so I have achieved something. Ate healthy meals (only one serving of icecream for dessert) and played with the cats, both chronic attention seekers who get bored if they aren't sleeping.   
    Watched a documentary on youTube about Roman building techniques (Nat Geo). Good info but bloody awful soundtrack, almost drowning out the commentary at times. Grandiose tumescent music to signify to even the dullest mind that "this was the grandeur that was Rome!!!" and oversimplified statements -  documentaries must have 'spin' now, they have to be cinematic and OTT.   And they repeat themselves, reiterating what they've just told us ten minutes ago as if our attention spans are miniscule.  I hate being patronized, as if I was too stupid to understand long words or subtle concepts, as if I were some dumbster who normally only watches America's Stupidest Home Videos. If I was that person, would I be watching a doco on Roman engineering and architecture? Would I have the slightest interest in any subject that wasn't America's Stupidest Home Videos? Tchah.

New Years resolutions

 

 I've come to the decision after a long time mulling it over, to remove the variegated holly in my back yard. I kept it because the it gave the birds some winter food, but last year they hardly ate any. Which was strange because it was a very cold winter. I can only assume that there was better food elsewhere, that people in the 'hood were feeding them. I like the holly, but this is a small garden and its really outgrown its welcome. Hollies are a bit of an iconic plant in this part of town. When it was a wealthy suburb with large villas and gardens, hollies were often planted as hedges to keep the proles away. It was also part of that colonial thing about reproducing England in the southern hemisphere. My holly grows in the sunniest most sheltered part of the garden, which is probably why it has rocketed away, but I'd rather have the area to grow fruit trees and vegetables.  The ground underneath it is thick with prickly dried leaves, very annoying if I have to weed under it, and every scrap of fertiliser I put on the veg goes straight to the holly. It is such a handsome tree though; I still feel that I might regret it if I take it down.
    No regrets for the arboreal horror that looms on the other side of the garden. This is a damson plum that has some kind of disease, only producing hideously scabbed and deformed fruit. It looms on the boundary like something from Mirkwood, a tree that zombies would hide in. The ivy makes it truly creepy (creepery?). Unfortunately, the fruit has enough vigor to seed itself all over the garden, equally diseased little blighters that are tough as nails. The Damson From Hell.