Disorder in the Court

These are excerpts from a book called -

Disorder in the Court: Great Fractured Moments in Courtroom History

by Charles M. Sevilla

No offence intended to any lawyers out there, these just made me laugh. 

ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?

___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
ATTORNEY: Voodoo?
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.

______________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep,  he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?

___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the 20  year old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He's twenty, much like your IQ.

___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?

_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Getting laid

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town I'm going with male.

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.

_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.

_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.

____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No .
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law

Off to never never land (poll results)

Unsurprising really, it appears that bloggers don’t sleep as much as the general population.

Whilst I accept that my poll may not, statistically speaking, stack up with its + or - error margin of 37% and while I also  know that gut reaction is not usually the best fit with statistics, I do in fact, feel  that these results may reflect a valid indication of the sleeping habits of genus homo bloggeris.

Poll results are as follows;

• 15% of the 19 respondents (3) to my poll say they sleep less than 5 hours a night
• 47% (9) have between 5 hours and 7 hours each night
• 26% (5) have around 8 hours and
• 10% (2) have more than 8 hours every night

My analysis is as follows;

1. No zombies responded to my poll
2. Most respondents (62%) sleep less than 8 hours a night*
3. A minority (36%) sleep 8 hours or more
4. Non bloggers on average sleep longer than bloggers (see the trusted and reputable Science Buzz site) and therefore it can be said that bloggers are more physically active and therefore fitter – doesn’t sound quite right but we can’t argue with the facts. Stats are always right!
5. 14 of my so called ‘followers’ didn’t bother voting humph!

*Or is that this group are more likely to respond to polls – perhaps there’s a causal type relationship that I’m not fully considering? Are they voting on polls later into the night and therefore have less sleep time available?  This poll is generating more questions than answers – how frustrating for us scientifically minded folks!

Mr Sandman

Well that’s that for what it was worth. Thanks for reading. Call by again sometime. Vote next time :-)

 Ps. New poll published today

 

Unexpectedly available

Well my day has not gone to schedule (see twitter update on side bar) so I am unexpectedly home which is actually a major treat for 10.30am on a Monday morning.

Downside though is that it does put me badly behind with my project at work. A couple of final decisions were due to be made today so I could be prepared for project kick off on 1 April…the best laid plans and all that. I have renegotiated the start date to Monday 6th and have booked couple of crucial meetings for tomorrow via video conference instead – I hate video conferencing,. I feel super self conscious. I am alone at my end usually so I try and sit as far away from the camera as I can. Sometimes I also forget that I am ‘sitting’ at the head of the big conference table at head office (enormous flat screen LCD on their wall) and I start sending sneaky texts or day dreaming, very embarrassing when I realise that everyone is staring at me.

Anyway that’s boring shit and not in fact, what my post is about at all…

Whilst I buggered around this morning trying to get on another flight (well actually when I was sitting having coffee and updating twitter after getting too pissed off with the whole process) I heard two women talking about the seal photo on the Whitehouse website. Now I have never even looked at Whitehouse.gov but I just checked out it and there really is a seal photo taken in NZ in yesterdays blog (so I promptly nicked the pic to put here naturally). Sleeping in sun. Cute. But again I digress…

The primary point of today's post is actually about something I heard on the car radio as I drove home from the airport.

Warning: read on only if you are brave. Do not interpret this to say that I am fan, let alone a  member of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) because I am not. I do strongly agree that animals should not be mistreated (though I am a carnivore and leather shoe/belt/bag lover) but I don’t buy into PETA’s violent brand of radicalism, not by a million miles!

Well, Ingrid Newkirk is the woman who started PETA and she has today published her last will and testament on the PETA website. I am not going to publish the whole thing here as anyone who is interested will click on the link and investigate themselves but here is the gist of it:

d) That one of my eyes be removed, mounted, and delivered to the administrator of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency as a reminder that PETA will continue to be watching the agency until it stops poisoning and torturing animals in useless and cruel experiments; that the other is to be used as PETA sees fit;

f) That my liver be vacuum-packed and shipped, in whole or in part, to France, to there be used in a public appeal to persuade shoppers not to support the vile practice of force-feeding geese and ducks for foie gras;

et cetera, et cetera ad nauseum.

Gruesome to the max but I do have to reluctantly admit that this is a woman who is PASSIONATELY committed to her cause. I  give grudging kudos to her for that.  That will takes guts.

Tweet bloody tweet

OK twitter review coming for any of you who are even slower than me at looking at such developments. Please note this post may contain spoilers so continue reading at your own risk.

I have spent the day signing up, creating a profile, finding a couple of people to follow and another couple to follow me. I have linked twitter to my blog, I have figured out how to correspond privately with people I know, how to update publicly and how to get twitter to update my Facebook status at the same time.

Overall it seems kind of cool in a fairly unsophisticated way. Cute design backgrounds etc but I’m just not sure that’s it’s actually something that I need.  Most people who I’d want to update on my doings throughout each day are on Facebook anyway and anyone else doesn’t need to know. In fact no-one needs that much detail surely? Not of my life anyway as nowhere near enough happens.

I have serious reservations if you want to use twitter to hold private back and forth conversations. It’s cumbersome having to link your comment to your addressee every single time. It feels precarious if you know what I mean. Like something could go wrong and my ‘private’ comment could be inadvertently sent to my blog sidebar and to the top of my Facebook wall. It feels slightly uncomfortable.Perhaps that IM type conversation is not really what twitter is meant for? I don’t know. Who does?

I’m not yet sure if  the record of the private conversation(s) will automatically trash when I log off later or whether I’ll need to manually delete as I go, I might have to try and find some info about that somewhere too – lots to learn. Boring. 

I’m not sure I’ve ‘gotten’ the point of twitter but I’ll see if it sticks over the next couple of weeks. If not it’ll be gone.  My life is cluttered enough.

Keeping our kids in line

…plus the chores get done so it’s a win:win all round.

Don’t forget to turn off your lights for Earth Hour 

8.30pm Saturday night your time

If a cat is feline…

A comment I just wrote on Generic Discourse gave me an idea so my planned post for today will have to wait.

I will list all the Latin animal group names I know (without searching the net) and you dear readers can add to the list in comments or do your own post.

I’ll give a hearty congratulations (I hear you say “Wow really Lou? You’re so very very generous”) to the most interesting or informative comment on the subject.

OK let’s start with the easy ones that almost everyone knows -

• Feline – cat
• Canine – dog 
• Bovine – cow

..then the next level -

• Lupine – wolf
• Ovine – sheep
• Ursine – bear
• Porcine – pig
• Equine - horse
• Piscine – fish 

OK now it’s getting tough but I can think of at least one more -

• Asinine - donkey

Aha a more obscure one just popped into my head. I must admit I only know this one because I remember my teacher telling us when I was about 10 and for some reason it stuck in my head -

• Aquiline – eagle

OK consider yourself challenged all you brainiacs out there to come up with more. There are hundreds and hundreds so put your thinking caps on.  Use the net if you must though that somewhat takes the fun out of it.

Sisterhood Award

I was given this Sisterhood Award by the lovely Helen from Helens Journey who I’d like to thank profusely. It’s great to know that you enjoy my ramblings Helen.

I now get the privilege of passing this award on to 5 of my own favourite ‘sista’ bloggers. It’s always a tough decision but here we go…

1. The first award is to the lovely Kate from Becoming Kate whose posts I look forward to every day and with whom I metaphorically travel the road of life’s ups and downs.
2. Domestic Daze generously shares her frustrations and her joys with her readers and she always entertains.
3. Next I’ll share this award with Jenny from Boys Don’t Like Funny Girls. Jenny is funny and brave and her poetry is melodic and thought provoking.
4. Sas from sas’ magical mystery tour is a fellow kiwi currently living in England. She’s hilarious and in her words is “…just a touch cynical, coffee addict, vodka drinker, glass-three-quarters-full, chocolate devotee…”
5. Lastly I’d like to share this award with Doanli from The Emergency Parachute. Doanli is open and honest and takes beautiful photographs.

Thanks again Helen.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s what to do

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate people whose blogs you enjoy.
3. Link to your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know they have received this award by commenting on their blogs.
5. Share the love and link to the person who nominated you for the award.

Quirky stuff

Everyday I am amazed about what can be found in the market place to satisfy the whim of even the most fanciful amongst us.

Today I came across a site called gizmodude.com and it’s full of consumables to satisfy even the quirkiest taste.

Check out these few examples that amused me.

 

I love this – different but cool! 

When you’re trying hard to impress your trailer park neighbours

 

Wee bit hard to see but it’s a tape dispenser – cute! 

 

When total camouflage is critical even when you’re wiping your arse 

When a naked picture on your coffee mug is probably the closest you’ll get 

 

When you just can’t last without your tunes even when you’re scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef

Kinda cool staple ‘puller-out-thingy’

 

Nike prosthetic leg anyone??

 

Sometimes I’m very glad I’m not wealthy.

There is far too much rubbish to be bought in this world.

Boy toy

My dad (bearded codger in the black cap) has a somewhat unusual toy.  He co-owns it with his mate, the other guy in the picture and they have some laughs with this thing.All my life there have been machines like this in our shed and in our lives. For work and for play.  We grew up around them and many of my childhood memories revolve around the dichotomy between my mum wanting pretty (clean) daughters in frilly dresses and fun loving dad wanting my sister and I to hang with him and learn about steam and oil and boilers and pressure and coal and such things. Dad almost always won. Fun times. 

 Who knows what it’s called?

The Beef of the Sea

No time for a proper post again today. Instead another really good ad made for a challenge on The Gruen Transfer, a very clever and hilarious Australian TV show on advertising. 

The marketing brief was to create an ad to sell whale meat for human consumption. Enjoy a laugh.

Check out more of their videos on YouTube – funny, funny. By the way it was sas that recommended I check out The Gruen Transfer.

 

Final poll votes please! 

Only just…

I am still smoke free. Just.

I met two friends after work and we shared a couple of bottles of sauv blanc. It was a lovely sunny autumn evening so we moved outside and by glass number three I was seriously craving a cigarette. Neither of my friends are smokers but a girl at the table behind me was smoking. Lots.

After an hour of hanging out, I had to leave. There is no way I am going to throw away nine months of nicotine deprived torture and if I had stayed any longer I might have hit the girl up for one.

Speaking of wine, look at these groovy glasses from a site called freshome.com – check out the site for some cool tips and inspiration for your place.

Have a great Monday

and Tuesday!

Book review

Since getting my new reading glasses a few weeks ago, my voracious appetite for reading has been re-ignited. I am steadily working my way through the pile beside my bed after applying a ranking system to enhance expectancy and maximise diversity and enjoyment.

This afternoon I have finished reading Red River by Lalita Tademy. I have been really looking forward to this after reading Cane River by the same author, a few years ago. Red River is the second narrative of Lalita’s father’s family, the Tademy’s.

I was not disappointed.

The book starts with the story of the Colfax massacre. In the 1870’s, after Louisiana had granted voting rights to former slaves, the black men of Colfax risk their lives to vote. They elect a new sheriff but when the incumbent refuses to step down, a group of black militiamen blockade the courthouse. Expecting the federal government to uphold the election results, the militants wait for reinforcements, but weeks pass and no relief eventuates. The siege is finally broken when the white attackers set fire to the courthouse. A massacre results in which many unarmed blacks are killed. This event shapes lives right through until the end of the book in the 1930’s.

This is an incredible book. Powerful.

What are you reading right now? 

Flightless kiwi (air force)

From the NZ Listener online in December 2008 not long after our new government was installed late last year. My son found this article and was almost pissing himself laughing so I had a look myself and thought it followed on well from my earlier post about Australia seeing us as an easy target.

 

Military Might

by Jon Bridges

An open letter to the incoming Minister of Defence

You’re new. It must be hard, but sort of exciting. I hope you have a nice desk. Please take a minute to allow me to set the scene. Think of this as an informal briefing.

It’s at uncertain international times like these when the powerlessness of being small really stings. We can bark all we like, but the world knows our bite is harmless. Our voice is louder than our size in terms of sport – why can’t we also punch above our weight in terms of military might?

This is where you come in, Minister. There is no time like right now for you to make our military a bit more … military.

Here’s how:

First, why not call yourself the Minister of Attack? It just sounds better. Meaner. Remember the best defence is a good offence. Even the word “Minister” is half “Mini”, which sounds a bit pathetic. Change it to “Maxister”. You sound bigger that way. It costs no money to change the title – we don’t have to actually increase our attack budget – but immediately it gets the rest of the world thinking, “These guys mean business.”

Second, let’s turn to our peacekeeping forces. Again a simple name change will make all the difference. Call them the “arse-kicking forces”, and here’s why:

Instead of “we’re not interested in war, we’ve got some pretty nice peace here and we’re keeping it, thanks”, our arse-kicking forces will say: “We’ve got all the ingredients for war over here, and if you step out of line we’ll make a batch today.”

And still we haven’t spent a cent of the budget. Let me move on to our “air force”.

The reality is, we can’t afford planes. When you join, the air force asks if you can fly a plane, and if you say “yes”, they say, “Sorry mate, you’re overqualified.” Internationally, we are known as the country that took the arms out of army, the force out of air force. Most of the planes we do have were made in either 1965 or 1966. Alert Taxis has a far more up-to-date fleet. It’s a fiscal reality. But do we have to tell everyone?

By visiting www.airforce.mil.nz, our foes can read details of the weight, payload capacity, range, age and full specs of every aircraft and squadron and details of the bases they are at, including the address. The only thing they can’t read on the website is which mat the keys are under.

This “reveal-all” policy would be great if we had any good planes. Our air force has a proud history, but we should probably keep the fact that most of our planes are from the 1960's a secret.

I’m not saying remove the website, just make it scarier. In the “what planes we’ve got” section, copy and paste a whole lot of photos of nasty planes and helicopters, preferably ones manufactured this century, bristling with high-tech weapons, and don’t say where they are. (If it’s about budget, my sister designs websites.)

Furthermore, the symbol of our air force isn’t that scary, either. There’s a kiwi inside what looks like a target. It’s a great-looking logo, and it means a lot to us, but a flightless bird inside a target isn’t a great air force logo. It says: “Line us up in your sights,  because we haven’t got any planes.” Accurate, maybe; forbidding, no.

A dirty great magpie with a gun and an ugly look on its face would go a long way to making us seem more dangerous.

Again, Minister, these are just ideas.

My final advice to you is to change our national anthem. God Defend New Zealand would be fine if it was just the line in a song instead of being our actual defence policy.

Brotherly love – yeah right!

I cannot believe I haven’t seen or even heard of this before. I came across it on YouTube quite by accident.  For those who don’t know, the second part of this ad is a spoof of a NZ advertising campaign trying to get Australians to holiday here.

Did this really air on Australian TV?

I’ve been sharing it with some Kiwi friends and no-one I know has ever seen it before. Is very very funny. Love it. There’s no denying that Australians have a great sense of humour and especially so when it involves taking the piss out of Kiwi’s.

That’s all for today folks as I am shattered. I had to commute to Wellington twice this week which makes a 15 hour work day each time on top of the rest of a very stressful and busy week.

Heading to bed now to watch a bit of TV and read a couple of chapters of my book before sleep time.  Totally out of control social life ay? 

TGIF       

And in first place is Lou

In yesterdays post I facetiously mentioned ‘winning’ when writing about how many McDonalds restaurants there are in New Zealand.

It got me thinking.

I am quite a competitive person. Actually I might as well be clear from the outset – I am extremely competitive. Not about everything though, quite frankly I don’t give a damn if I lose a game of Scrabble.

No hang on, again I need to clarify.

I do actually hate losing at Scrabble so let me look for a better example to use. 

 

I don’t mind losing as part of my country. I’m not unnaturally affected by the All Blacks losing (unless it’s a World Cup or against the Aussi’s, or the English, the French or even the South Africans)  OK, OK… I guess you could say I really hate the All Blacks losing if we’re being that nauseatingly honest.

I’ll try again.

I’m part of a pub quiz team and it’s an environment where I’ve had to learn to accept losing as we’re not good at all. We regularly pick the wrong topic to play our joker and end up screwed. It pisses me off actually and I’m thinking about putting together a new, better team. OK, perhaps that’s not the best example either.

How about that I don’t really lose any sleep over the fact that NZ doesn’t win much sometimes? A couple of measly golds at the Olympics, we’ve only once or twice made it even to the 1st round of the Football World Cup. We barely make a blip in tennis or golf and forget about athletics (except for Valerie Vili and Beatrice Faumuina and their superhuman ability to chuck stuff). I can honestly admit that I don’t care too much about these things.

But seeing as I’m being honest, I guess that’s because I know that we are good at climbing mountains and yachting, at netball and let’s not forget we got our hands on the Rugby League World Cup.

Swings and roundabouts.

On Kate's site earlier today I made the point that when you factor in the competitive nature of the average New Zealander, it’s bloody lucky that New Zealand is the first ‘non-atoll type’ country* to greet each new day, every day (and yes, that’s out of the whole wide world!). 

I’m thankful for this as I don’t know where I’d have to be living otherwise. Actually I don’t know how you Aussi’s cope with being forever second.

* Kiribati  is actually 2 hours ahead of New Zealand but who cares right? Right?

Mmmmm Big Mac

Someone told me an interesting fact the other day and I have been spreading it around merrily since then as I think it’s an interesting, and somewhat disturbing, fact.

Did you know that New Zealand has the second highest density of McDonald’s restaurants per capita, second only to the mighty US itself?

Today at work I shared this fact in the lunch room and one of my colleagues challenged the fact. He reckoned he had read somewhere that NZ had 149 restaurants so how could that possibly compare to the UK or Australia? So…somewhat belatedly I’ll admit, I thought I’d better actually conduct some fact checking. This is what I found.

Thanks as ever to Wikipedia, Fun Trivia.com and NationMaster.There are around 31,000 McDonald’s restaurants worldwide. The McDonald’s Corporation was founded in 1955. It’s headquarters is in Tim’s part of the country in Illinois, USA.

McDonalds didn’t arrive in New Zealand until 1976 and today we have 149 restaurants. We have a population of just over  4,200,000 so that’s 1 restaurant for every 28,000 people.  Is that a lot? I had no idea but it did seem like an awful lot to me.

Next I checked out the data for the United Kingdom who surely have more. There are 1,115 restaurants in the UK for a population of 60,975,000. This is 1 restaurant for every 48,000. Crikey NZ has got heaps more than the UK! That’s unexpected.

Next, Australia who absolutely positively must have more than us here. After all they do everything bigger than we do here. There are 730 restaurants in Oz. Now that seems very low, worryingly low. A population of 21,610,000 equates to 1 restaurant for every 29,500 people – bugger! Just less.

Canada has a population of 33,587,000 and 1,154 restaurants or 1 restaurant per 29,000 people. Bugger again!

OK ,so I could keep searching but I think the point is pretty well made. Whether NZ actually does have the second highest per capita saturation, is a moot point as we certainly have heaps. More than the UK, Canada and more than Australia.

Perhaps Japan has heaps?? I can’t be bothered looking sorry.

Again without actually checking, just because I’m tired (and lazy), but I think I’m pretty safe to say that the 13,381 restaurants in the US would certainly make you guys number 1 even factoring in your massive population.

Congrats to the US and to NZ . Something we could actually do without winning.

My name

Cartguy found a website (www.surnamedb.com) where you can search your surname and find it’s basis in history.

My surname is Carroll (only one generation ago it was O’Carroll) and this is what the website told me:

O’Carroll is the anglicized form of the Irish name "O'Cearbhaill"  which was a byname for either a butcher or a fierce warrior, deriving from "cearbh", which means hacking or to hack. There were six distinct sects of O'Carroll in Ireland, namely in County Kerry (where my parents are from), and County Tipperary.

 

The hacker/butcher/ fierce warrior bit I do like the sound of and combined with my first name  (Louise) which also means warrior, I sound like someone not to be messed with. 

I like that!

Happy St Paddy’s Day

Being the first in the world to greet the new day, gives us certain advantages here in NZ. Today I’ll be the first to share St Patricks Day greetings with you all.  May the road rise to meet you and the wind be always at your back.

Have a great day. Have fun but be mindful of your liver!

Sláinte 

‘tis but a scratch

No time for a proper post today so I thought I’d share a laugh.

Pity about the picture quality but it’s worth watching anyway. This is one of my favourite scenes from one of my favourite movies, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. My #1 ranked comedy is actually ‘Life of Brian’ also by Monty Python but this clip tells anyone all they need to know about my sense of humour .

….dry, anarchic and juvenile

I was 10 years old when Holy Grail was released in 1975.

Off to bed now as it was a tough Monday and it’s nearly 10pm already. I’ve had nowhere near enough sleep recently.

Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.

Alphabet Soup

I saw this idea somewhere a few weeks ago, where you write a poem with each line starting with the next letter of the alphabet.

I have hunted around to see if I can find where I saw the idea so I could give proper credit but I haven’t been able to find it. If anyone knows or spots it, please let me know so I can reference the site.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-------------------------------------

All I need is to be understood,

Be appreciated for what I can offer

Coming only when you need me is not good enough

Dumping your problems on me

Enough is enough

Forget that there ever was an ‘us’

Go on with our lives

Holding no grudges

I am moving on

Just stop ringing and calling around

Keep away from me

Leave me alone

My mental health is worth more to me than you are

Not that there was ever any future to this

Or any chance of success

Put me out of your mind

Quiet time is what I need so I can think

Reason must be applied

So be it

There will be other opportunities for love

Until then I’ll be OK

Virtually alone

Without love but without your harmful words

Xyster filing at my heart

You are a good man but not my good man

Zip, nada, nothing more to come – it’s over between us

------------------------------

OK, OK I beg your forgiveness for this tripe dear readers. It’s harder than you think it will be. I challenge you to give it a go – go on and see if you can do better :-)

Christenings and car ornaments

I was out and about this morning to attend a baptism of the Roman Catholic variety.

Always a good show in my opinion with the fancy windows and the robes and the water pouring and the oil anointing etc. Only takes 20 minutes too.

Here’s one shot just to give you a wee glimpse of the proceedings and of the beautiful brand new Lily Louisa Jane. Lily’s dad (holding her in the picture) is one of my oldest and dearest friends.

Anyway…

I called in to the supermarket on my way home and parked next to a Honda that had about 10 little fluffy stuffed toys decorating the back window sill (is that what it’s called?) and it stopped me dead in my tracks. I utterly do NOT get the whole car ornaments thing. If there’s anyone reading who does get it, please don’t be shy, share, please, I’d really love to know. Honestly.

Is it perhaps just stuff that couldn’t fit in the house and overflowed out to the car?  OK now that sounds like I’m taking the p*ss but I’m not, well perhaps just a tiny bit :-)

Do these sensitive souls have houses packed to the gunnels with bric-a-brac? Perhaps they just really, really like dusting and having only the house to clean each week leaves them wanting more? Maybe in Honda's case her new man insisted the stuffed toys be gone from the bed and a mass migration event to the garage proved necessary in an effort to save the relationship?

It got me thinking.

I decided I had to see how many examples of car ornamentation I could find between the supermarket and home in an effort to quantify the issue in my town. When I visit others towns I might undertake the same ‘sampling’ experiment in order to understand whether south Auckland is geographically more or less predisposed to having car ornamenting types residing here. Maybe I could start the research and sell the idea to someone for an anthropological thesis topic? Cha ching!

So I left the supermarket and headed home.  Only after I had counted another 2 examples of ‘pimping by stuffed animal’ did I remember that I had my camera in my hand bag because I’d taken it to the baptism. These photos were taken while I drove so please excuse the lack of quality. Some cars were parked while others I had to actually chase to get the shot – nobody ever said the pursuit of knowledge was going to be easy.

As usual, you can double click for a closer look.

 

 

…and below is the piece de resistance spotted in a parking lot.

All this stuff was in the FRONT of the car! Well at least I think it’s the front – can be hard to tell with Beetles.

Double click to see how much stuff there is – it blows my mind!

My initial analysis of this phenomenon suggests that;

• south Auckland may well be the preferred haunt of the species known as genus ornamentalist
• they drive all sorts of cars but prefer those with a boot (trunk) rather than a hatch – the rear window sill being the preferred site for exhibiting the booty
• the ornament most preferred is a dog (in fact most often many dogs)
• the drivers of said vehicles looked ‘normal’ though I am certainly not accepting that without categorical evidence.

The simple life

Today I wanted to share some good news.

Sometimes we can get mired in the worries of the world and the confusion in our heads and we need to take a deep breath and think about what’s good and kind and gentle in the world.

Smell the roses friends…

Identical twin sisters Beryl Baguley and Matilda Hanlon (nee Wilson)  of Auckland turned 100 yesterday as reported on nzherald.co.nz. These two gorgeous women have a very simple philosophy on life and on longevity.

Mrs Hanlon said "I have always eaten simply, lived simply and have never wanted for much...I have always just used soap and water on my face and no fancy products too,"

Neither of the twins have ever been seriously ill nor have they had to undergo any type of surgery. Their advice on surviving a major recession was also simple.

“Don't get a credit card, I've never had one and I don't think people need them,"  said Mrs Hanlon, who has lived in her three-bedroomed Papatoetoe home since 1947.

"My husband bought some carpet for our home on a time-payment basis many years ago but we found it very hard to pay it off so I swore we would never get anything on credit again."

Both women have outlived their husbands and some of their children.  Neither of them have ever been on a plane nor visited the NZ’s South Island.

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I think sometimes we can make life so very complicated and I could certainly take a page from their book and no doubt be happier. 

Read the story if you can be bothered – it sure made me feel good. NZ Herald.

Sisters rock!

Don’t forget to cast your vote in my poll

Goosebumps

I am still home today and still feeling nasty, though not quite so bad as yesterday. In between frantic, but less frequent, dashes to view the porcelain sculpture, I have been reading my book, browsing blogs and watching a bit of TV.

It’s only 11am and I am bored already.

I should now be logging in to my work e-mail and seeing what’s there but I figure what the heck, it’ll wait…

Instead I am going to share a weird, tingly story that mystifies me to this day. All my friends refuse to listen to me talk about this anymore so I’m going to share it with my friends in cyberspace.

In my early 30’s I had a short stint as a part time nanny but I was not a very good one. What I mean is I was responsible and all that and really liked the kid I cared for but I just didn’t really love being a nanny and I think it’s one of those jobs that’s actually more of a calling that a job. It fitted in nicely with what I needed at the time as I was studying part time, Rory was 3 and I could bring him with me for the couple of days a week I was needed.

Anyway…

I was lying on the lounge floor playing with Rory and with 4 year old Imogen when Imogen’s mum, Sandra arrived home to their small farm 30 minutes south of the city. As she came in the front door she called out “Hi, where are you all?”. Her coming home unexpectedly was not unusual so we just continued playing and I yelled out to her in the hallway “Hi, we’re in the lounge”.

I heard her walk up the hall into the kitchen, open the fridge and then she asked “Have you guys had lunch yet? Shall I make us some sandwiches?”. I said that would be great and then heard her taking things out of the fridge and getting some plates and glasses out of the cupboard. 

A few minutes later the Lego zoo that Imogen, Rory and I had been building was complete and so we washed up for lunch. 

When we got to the kitchen the breakfast bar was set with plates and glasses and the bread, butter and some sliced ham were set out but Sandra was nowhere to be seen.  The fridge door was hanging open. While I started preparing sandwiches for the kids, Imogen went to find her mum. A couple of minutes later she was back saying she couldn’t find her. I called out too but still Sandra didn’t respond. Now I was worried, had she fallen or something somewhere in the large house? After unsuccessfully searching  for her again myself, I rang her flash new cell phone (it was still quite fancy having a cell phone here in NZ in the mid 90’s).

Sandra answered sounding flustered. She couldn’t talk right now as she was just going into a meeting with a client in the city and she was late and still needed time to prepare for her presentation.  “Is it important?” she asked me. I was speechless. And completely and utterly spooked. And I still am to this day.

Rory and I never set foot inside that house again.

What a wonderful world

I am home with a nasty upset tummy today (I will spare you the gruesome details) and so I have had time to really browse the online papers.  

Minus the dodgy digestive system it would actually be a great way to get through the ‘hump day’ every week.

What I have come across today has either…

- Amused me…

1) This is begging on a whole new cyber scale. Check out the name of this website developed to help raise money for the homeless.

2) Yummy dummy nuptials. A local Melbourne legend finally ties the knot after years of being on the shelf.

- Shocked me…

3) A 75 year old widow to be lashed for breaking one of Saudi Arabia’s increasingly strict Islamic laws. She asked her 24 year old neighbour (a man) to bring her bread. Popular feeling is apparently that the ultra strict Religious Police are taking things too far so let’s hope a backlash (pun intended) occurs.

4) Texan ‘Fight Club’ for mentally disabled is busted. Employees of a state-run home for the mentally disabled have been suspended for staging fights between residents.

- or just made me wonder

5) An ex-soldier uses gun to ‘impress’ women in a Brisbane nightclub. Taking a loaded gun into a nightclub shoved down his jeans to show off? Me thinks he doesn’t actually understand the average women all that very well.

 

 Have a wonderful Wednesday.

Don’t forget to vote in my poll!

 

Beautiful

Here’s a few pics of some fabulous fashion for anyone who’s interested. None of these are, or ever will be, owned by me. I do not buy designer shoes, bags or clothes but that doesn’t stop me appreciating their beauty.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Intelliwench suggested in a comment earlier today, that I may have replaced my smoking habit with another habit and I suspect she may be right.

After some thought I am now officially putting the shopping and fashion lust focus to rest, if for no other reason that I am dirt poor and frankly my recent rampant materialism is becoming distasteful even to me.

It would be great if others out there in cyber land could help me make it through the bleak NZ winter by sharing their own shopping stories while I curb my spending over the next few months.

Forever 24

The beautiful young woman woke up filled with anticipation. She’d been waiting for this day to arrive. Now that she had her full motorcycle licence she could jump on her new bike and ride under her own steam to the rally instead of being on the back of his bike. She knew he was rapt too as he much preferred riding his ‘Guzzi without a pillion.

She was still disappointed that her sister had cancelled, it would have been the first time they all went for a decent ride together since she got her full licence. Her sister had been the one who’d taught her to ride and convinced her to get her own bike so it would have been really special to travel together on this first big ride out of town.

She checked off her list. He had the tent and sleeping bags in his panniers, all she needed was her clothing and toiletries. She admired her new leather pants and wished she’d been able to afford the new jacket at the same time. Her old leather would have to do until she could save some more money and collect the jacket too. She’d been sensible – she spent the money on a new helmet instead as her old one was a bit damaged from when she slid off her bike a few weeks ago on a patch of oil on the road. Thank God that had happened before she got her new bike – buying it had almost bankrupted her so the thought of spending money she didn’t have on paint work was not a happy thought.

She rang her sister at work and said goodbye, they were heading off shortly and were planning on being away 3 nights. As they spoke she hooked the phone under her chin so she could French braid her hair. She’d found this was the best way of keeping it out of her face while riding and stopping it from tangling in the wind. Her sister was bummed not to be coming but she just couldn’t get away from work right now.

Her boyfriend turned up while she was still on the phone so she said goodbye and blew her big sister a kiss. He checked how she’d tied on her bag to make sure it was secure and then she locked up the house and they excitedly headed to the gas station to check tyre pressure and gas up before heading south.

The plan was that they’d meet a group of friends in Cambridge which was just over an hour away, and stop there for lunch. The rally was on the Desert Road about 3 hours south of Cambridge so they planned to get there by mid afternoon and set up camp before commencing the weekend’s festivities.

The meet-up occurred as planned in Cambridge and they all munched fries and drank coffee before preparing once again to set off. 

She’d enjoyed the ride that far but was worried that the speed he was setting was too fast for her. They talked about it and they agreed she should stick to a speed that was comfortable for her and he and his mates would go for a blast for the next 150 kilometres and then they’d wait for her in Taupo and they could all travel together the rest of the way.

3 hours later she still hadn’t arrived and he started to worry.

It wasn’t until hours later that they found out. Only 5 minutes out of Cambridge, on the Karapiro Road, a van driver hadn’t seen her coming around the bend by the Mobil service station and had pulled out. By the time a passerby got to her in the paddock next to the road, she was gone.

She’ll be forever 24.