Okay everyone, lets put on our serious topic undies...

I know I can be a little opinionated ... okay, I know I can be VERY opinionated ... but I normally refrain from writing about things that are too controversial.  I lean towards mind bogglingly stupid news articles, conversations with my cat, or the homoerotic nature of early 20th century children's literature.

Not that I have anything against posts that are about serious topics, I quite enjoy toasting marshmallows over the flame wars that start in the comments.  But if I decide to air my opinion on a topic, it's usually because I see it as a matter of common sense.

But when I was asked to write a post for AbortionChat this week, I decided to go ahead and do it despite my self imposed limits.  I thought it was such an interesting idea, a blog not dedicated to one side of the debate or the other, but set up for the sole purpose of allowing all sides to discuss the topic in a non judgemental way. 

So head on over to here and have a read!  Maybe you'll agree, maybe you won't, but hopefully you'll appreciate my opinion.

Some day my prince will come...

Disney's got a lot to answer for.


In my childhood I, like all other little girls, watched the Disney movies about the beautiful Princesses who lived happily ever after with their Prince Charming.  I was lead to believe that if I just waited quietly in my ivory tower, tried not to eat any poisoned apples, and made sure to leave a shoe behind whenever I left a school disco, then a rich and handsome member of the royal family would come riding in on a white horse and whisk me off to his palace.

Yeah, that ain't happened so far.

But when I really think about it, I'm not entirely sure what any of these old school Disney Princesses did to attract their Prince Charming in the first place!  Now, let's be completely clear here, I'm not talking about the new generation of Disney gals.  They have spunk, personality and character development, something that I think was missing from the older ladies.  I guess prerequisites for being a Princess have changed over the years.

I know a lot of people would disagree with me.  "They're classic!", they'd say, horrified by my blasphemy.

Sure, they're classic.  So is mysogyny, slavery and polio.  Doesn't make them desirable.

I think the  point I'm trying to make is that the old Disney Princesses taught us one lesson.  Look pretty and don't rock the boat too much, and a good looking rich guy will come along and take care of you. Cinderella might have snuck out to go to the party but after that she just waited around for the Prince to come find her, Snow White actually went and hid with a bunch of dwarfs, and Sleeping Beauty might as well have been a prop as a character in the story!

Personally, I prefer Mulan.  Now there's a Disney Princess to emulate.  She's outspoken, tactless, and violently dedicated to protecting her family.  Even when her life is at risk she still does what she believes is right, and when everyone is telling her that she's wrong and should just pipe down because she's just a girl she metaphorically flips them the bird and breaks into the Emperor's Palace.

Now THAT'S a lesson that we should be teaching our children.

Gun control, schmun control...

Ever since the terrible shooting that happened in a movie theatre in America last week, there's been a lot of talk about whether it would have been so bad, whether those people would have been safer, if access to guns was different.  The funny thing is, though, I've heard the same arguement made for both tightening gun control, and for freeing it up.

Personally, I have no idea which would be better.  Loosen gun control?  Every man and his dog will own one, and lets be honest, with human nature being what it is it's just a short jump to them thinking that means they have the right to fire it with impunity.  Tighten gun control?  Well it won't stop people buying guns, they'll just do it in more illicit ways.  We'll have oodles of untracable, illegal firearms floating around.

Both suggestions seem to have their faults, as far as I can see.  If I was forced to pick a side, I'd probably go for tighter control, but I suspect that's just because I'm Australian where we don't have this inbuilt sense of entitlement to own a gun.  The whole "right to bear arms" thing has never applied to us, what with us all starting off as convicts.  Only an idiot would bring a bunch of criminals to a far off, isolated place, then tell them that sure, you can have a gun!

The idea of owning a gun, quite frankly, scares the bejezus out of me.  I wouldn't even want to touch one, let alone own one.  The only person I know who has one is a police officer, which I guess you can put down to an occupational hazard.  My Opa used to have a rifle that he kept behind the back door when I was a kid, but I'm almost certain it didn't work and he just kept it there as a scare tactic.  So you can see my knowledge of all things firearms is woefully inadequate to be making these sorts of decisions.

I think if I was pressed for an opinion, though, I'd have to agree with Chris Rock's opinion.  Forget about gun control.  Let them buy as many guns as they want.  Just make bullets cost a small fortune. It might not solve all the problems, after all there's always accidents, mistakes, stupidity, but if you made each bullet cost hundreds of dollars, I can guarantee that senseless deaths by firearms would drop significantly.

But don't take what I say too seriously, as I said, I have no real basis for it.  It's just an opinion, as ill informed and naive as anyone elses.  But to be fair, I think it's just as valid as the other ones being spouted off at the moment.

Real gods, false gods, sex gods...

There are two things which they all say you should never talk about in polite company, religion and politics.  Well, I took the step and discussed politics a few entries ago, so how about we just go the whole hog and have a whack at religion while we're at it, hmm?

I suppose I should start off this little round table pow-wow by stating for the record that I'm a Pagan.  Yep, that's right, I'm one of those unique little snowflakes that you see wandering around occasionally hugging trees and blathering on about the love of the Goddess (as opposed to the love of the Bloggess, which is a totally different thing).

It's a faith system that works for me.  I know it wouldn't work for everyone, but that's cool.  Not everyone is meant to believe the same thing.  That's why they call it belief, not fact.  But like most Pagans out there I've come across my fair share of people who take offence to my faith, although I've never been able to work out why something like what I believe in is such a big thing to other people that they actually make judgements about me because of it.

There's plenty of the little examples.  The people who avert their eyes when they work out what the star around your neck means.  The ones who are all friendly right up until something comes up to show you're a Pagan, and suddenly it's like an Arctic chill has settled.  The ones who, once they learn of your religion, make sure that no part of their body comes in contact with yours, like you could pass Paganism on like leprosy or something.

But those people are easy enough to deal with.  For the most part it's just a mixture of ignorance and discomfort.  Nine times out of ten they get over themselves after a bit and forget to be all standoffish. I think human nature takes over, and it's human nature to want to be friendly with people who are being friendly to you.

No, the ones who really scare the bejuzus out of me are the zealots.  People like the Westboro Baptist Church, who do reprehensible things like protest funerals and ludicrous things like protest geek conventions.  Seriously, who the hell protests a geek convention!  You're just giving us fuel to make fun of you, and there's nothing we like more than that!  Check out this video if you don't believe me.

Yeah, it was never going to work out well for the Westboro guys.  Geeks have a natural tendency towards the ridiculous.

I suppose the final lesson to take away is this.  I don't give a shit about your religion.  You can be Catholic, Mormon, Seventh Day Adventist, or even a freaking Pastafarian and I have absolutely no problem with that.  More power to you and let your freak flag fly!  In fact, if you're a Pastafarian, I salute you, sir or madam, and hope that your path crosses with many pirates (yeah, that's an in joke).

What I do have a problem with is if the lessons and morals taught by your church cause you to treat others with disrespect or distain based on nothing more than the fact that they don't have the same faith system as you.  I have a problem with people who use faith as a way to camouflage their bigotry and intolerance.  I have a problem with people who use something that is supposed to be a good thing, a moral guideline to make one's life better and more rich, as an excuse to treat others as somehow less than themselves.

I also have a problem with religious door knockers.  Seriously, if I wanted to get up at what-the-fuck o'clock in the morning to answer the door to someone trying to shove their faith down my throat I'd put up a sign or something!

But then I think we all have a problem with them, don't we.

I don't remember putting that in my will...

Like most grown ups out there, I have a will.  It's not a particularly complicated one, basically just leaving everything to whatever family member is left after my unfortunate demise, as well as a trust to my nephew.  I didn't ask the public trustee to do anything complicated, like make anyone go on a convoluted treasure hunt or spend the night in a haunted house to get my money, and given the fact that I had it rewritten at Christmas time I think I can remember the details pretty well.

So you can imagine my surprise when I received a letter from the University I graduated from thanking me for choosing to make them the beneficiary of my will.

Umm ... what the fuck?

The letter explained how grateful they were for my generous contributions, and how it would go to help future students of my alma mater by improving services and providing scholarship opportunities.

Screw that!  I had to pay my own way through thank you very much, and let me tell you what with tutorial fees, HECS fees and text book costs it wasn't cheap!  Not to mention the photocopying expenses.  Holy crap, why doesn't anyone tell  you how expensive photocopying is?  So if I had to pay, why on earth should future students get the benefit of having me pay for THEM too!

The letter then went on, in what I can only describe as a fit of outrageous audacity, to say that seeing as I was considering forking over my life savings at my death, how about I consider giving some of it right now.  I couldn't believe it!  They thought (however erroneously) that I was choosing to give them all my money when I died, but rather than being grateful for the gift they actually had the nerve to say, "Yeah, we don't feel like waiting that long, and a hitman costs too much ... could you just give it to us now?"

Gobsmacked doesn't even begin to describe my reaction.  How does one even respond to something like this?  Part of me was tempted to grab the copy of my will I left in my family's safe and just double check that I didn't actually leave it all to the University.  Who knows, it was an early morning meeting with the public trustee, maybe in a fit of sleep and caffeine deprivation I accidentally said "Leave everything to the University that charged me an arm and a leg to get a degree that I'll probably never use".

But no, today I received an email from the University, apologising for the letter.  Apparently they sent a whole slew of them out to the wrong people, and now are trying to do damage control.  The email said that they were very sorry, and they hoped it wouldn't discourage me from considering them in my will in the future.

So let me get this right, University.  You want me to leave all my worldly possessions (and my superannuation account) to you in my will, so you can then send me regular letters begging me to give you more money before I croak?

Umm ... yeah, I don't think I'll be doing that.

Does this post make my bum look big...

The other day a friend asked me if a skirt she was wearing made her bum look big.  Yeah, I know what the guys in the audience are thinking.  Trick question!  But no, it wasn't.  She asked, and I told her that yes, it did make her bum look big.  Then I told her that the A-line skirt would be a better choice with the blouse she was wearing if she was trying to avoid that.  She agreed with  me and decided to change into the other skirt.

Another friend happened to be with us, a guy, and he was horrified.  Not by the fact that I'd apparently broken the cardinal rule of how to answer the "Does my but look big" question ... but by the fact that I didn't get my head ripped off for my troubles.

It took us a while to explain the reason to him, which I'm now going to explain to you.  You see, the reason I could get away with being so grossly insulting, and I'm aware of the sexism involved in this, is because I'm a girl.

Yep, if asked, girls can tell other girls that their butts look big.  This only works though if you're asked, not if you just volunteer the information out of thin air.  I know, it's completely unfair, but there you go.  I see so many poor guys out there being verbally eviscerated by their wives/girlfriends, when all it would take is a pre-prepared answer and a bit of quick thinking to save their hides.

But in an effort to help the gentlemen out there avoid the pitfalls of this veritable verbal minefield, I've decided to grace you all with "Kellie's Guide to Answering The Tough Questions".  (Disclaimer:  This guide in no way guarantees that you will be able to answer the tough questions.  In fact, in all likelihood all you'll do is just get yourself in deeper trouble.)

Does my bum look big in this?

Gentlemen, the answer to this should be an immediate and resounding no!  If she wanted the truth, she would ask a female friend.  If she's asking you, she wants reassurance that you still find her as sylph like as you ever did.  

I don't care if it looks like she rammed a Christmas turkey into a condom, you tell her that she looks all sorts of lovely and let it go at that!

Do you notice anything new?

This is always a hard one.  It could be a new hair cut, it could be new shoes, it could be she had the kitchen lino replaced.  Really, it's a crap shoot.  

My best suggestion for this is to say "I thought there was something different, but I wasn't sure.  Whatever it is, you look great!"  It allows her to feel like you complimented her, while also inviting her to answer the question for you.  Again, it's a gamble, but it's the best chance you're going to get.

What are you thinking?

A lot of guys I know have told me that this one always annoys the shit out of them.  Why on earth do we want to know what they're thinking?  Well, to be completely honest, what she's really asking is are you thinking of HER.

If you don't want to answer honestly (and seriously, if you answer is something like "your sister in a bikini" then you DON'T want to answer honestly), try something simple but cute.  My recommendation would be "I was thinking about where I want to take you next time we both have a day off.  What do you think of a picnic?"

And yes, then you do have to take her on a picnic.  Suck it up, cupcake.

But there is one question, ladies and gentlemen, that one can never answer correctly.  No matter what you say, responding to "So, have you stopped beating your partner" will never make you look good.

Why I hate politics, or at least politicians...

Warning:  Highly opinionated blog ahead.  There will be controversial topics, bad mouthing of Australian Members of Parliament, and in all likelihood a great deal of swearing.  By all means, skip this one if you think it might in any way offend.  

We all on the same page now?  Good, on with the ranting.

So I'm not really someone who knows much about politics.  I don't pay much attention to Question Time, discussions about it bore me to tears, and more often than not I find myself voting for Donald Duck rather than one of the names on the ballot.

Alright, so in the last election I voted for the Greens ... but that's only because the Greens member was outside the polling booth and shook my hand before I went it!  She was this sweet little old lady who looked like she wanted to call me "dearie" and offer me a butterscotch!  I couldn't NOT vote for her when she was so nice!

Yeah, I'm kind of a marketer's dream, I know.

But the point I'm trying to make is, generally speaking, I'm not politically minded.

Even so, the other day when I was watching a youtube video I found myself outraged, as I'm sure most rational people would.  The video was of a fellow Australian discussing some of the speeches made in opposition to the Marriage Equality Amendment Bill ... or to put it more plainly, some politicians opposing gay marriage.

Pretty much all of the opposing speeches were abysmal, but nothing you wouldn't expect in such a situation.  Old, conservative men with their old, conservative ideas, really nothing we haven't seen a hundred times before.  Sure it's ridiculous, and sure I would kind of like to smack them for holding our country back in such a stupid way, but it's not the first time and it certainly won't be the last that politicians are too stupid, bigoted or scared to do the right thing.

But one of the speeches was, I though, particularly awful.  Not because he said anything more offensive or outrageous than any of the others, not because he was any more of a bigot than the rest of them.  Here, have a read for yourselves.

Marriage as a legal institution corresponds to the reality of what marriage is: the unique sharing by a man and a woman in all aspects of life. However, the purpose of marriage as a legal institution relates specifically to the distinctive biological possibilities of this union. Some people say, wrongly, that this means couples who do not produce children are not really married. Whether or not children are produced does not change this, as I can attest from my own circumstances on this very day—the 29th anniversary of my marriage to Adriana. Happy anniversary, Honey.

John Murphy, MP.

Yep, he seriously went there.  Here he is, an Australian politician opposing gay marriage, and he actually went and WISHED HIS WIFE A HAPPY ANNIVERSARY IN HIS FUCKING OPPOSITION SPEECH!  I don't think that there are words to describe just how much of a douche nozzle this guy is.

You know what, dude?  It's bad enough that in this day and age we still have to worry about the fact that the people in power have such stupid, provincial, backwards beliefs.  But to watch as you make a speech that essentially says you believe that 10% of the population don't deserve the same rights as everyone else while rubbing in your own happy marriage is just about the biggest dick move I've ever seen!

Congratulations, Mr Murphy, MP, you just won my Douchebag of the Week award.

Screw you media, and the horse you rode in on...

If there's one thing that all women know, it's that the media sucks.  It sucks like a five dollar hooker ... badly.

Now I could give you any number of reasons why it sucks so badly, but we all know what irks us the most, what affects us the most, what they spend the most time and effort controlling.

Body image.

But recently I found this series of old newspaper ads showing that while the media has always controlled the way women see themselves and how they want to look, the victims used to be a wee bit different.

It would seem that back in the day it wasn't popular to be skinny.  Who knew!  If these ads are anything to go on, women didn't want to be thin, they wanted to be curvy.  And why?  

Because the media told them to.

I guess it's nothing new.  We've always been able to see through art what people of any particular time considered to be the ideal feminine shape.  All you have to do is look at paintings of Elizabethan women to know they liked them back then with no eyebrows and high foreheads, or in the Renaissance period they liked them on the plump side and usually holding a naked chubby baby or being ravaged by a couple of soldiers.

But those images, while interesting and probably important, I'm pretty sure didn't have as much of an impact on the common woman.  After all, what did it matter what the women in those expensive paintings looked like if you were a normal person?  You had a living to make and a family to feed.  Besides, it wasn't like you'd see pictures like that very often.

But in the last hundred years our methods of communication have improved, which has allowed the media to become more powerful and more invasive.  We can't escape them anymore.  They're everywhere and, whether we like to admit it or not, we pay attention to and value what they tell us.  It's seriously fucked up.

I think that's why I find these old ads so interesting.  As a curvy girl myself, I find it fascinating to think that back in the day there were ads offering to help women put on weight.  Ads actually telling women that men wouldn't find them attractive if they were too skinny.  My first thought was "Right on!" followed by a fist pump, but it only took me a few minutes to realise the reality of it.

These ads aren't any better than ours.  They're just another way of telling women that they're not good enough the way that they are, and should change to suit some all knowing social opinion.

Isn't it interesting how, generation after generation, we just keep letting ourselves be victims of this emotionally manipulative abuse.  Makes you wonder what in fifty years time the media will be telling our daughters and granddaughters they should look like, doesn't it.

Whatever happened to the humble mongrel...

Really, dude?  Really?

As I was driving home from the supermarket this morning, I saw a scene which is becoming more and more common in my neighbourhood, and one which never fails to make me snicker.  During the twenty minute drive, I saw no less than five large, muscular, gym junkie guys walking their dogs.  What's so unusual about that, you ask?  Well, it wasn't the fact that they were walking dogs ... it was the dogs they were walking.

Each of them, without exception, was walking a small, fluffy, white lap dog.

What the hell happened to people having normal dogs?  When I was a kid, if you wanted a dog you went to the RSPCA, picked out the friendliest looking mutt, took it home and that was that!  Now days, people seem to spend weeks, if  not months, visiting breeders, researching different breeds, and tossing up whether to buy from a puppy farm or a pet shop!  

He's so cute!  How could you
prefer a yappy little white thing!

I've had several friends go through this process, and when I asked them why they didn't just get a rescue dog, they all gave me a similar story.  

"Oh, but when you pick the breed you know what it's personality will be like!"

Rubbish, in my opinion!  I've never met a mongrel I didn't like, but I've met plenty of those annoying little boutique breed dogs that I'd cheerfully kick (if I wasn't a nice person who would NEVER kick a dog, no matter how annoying it is).  I'm sure everyone who has one of these types of dogs is highly offended, but I'm just going by my observations and experiences.  

Utterly adorable, and a bitsa!

It's the same with cats.  My boss is currently in the process of helping his wife pick out a new cat.  My first question was, "Oh, which RSPCA are you going to go to?"

Yeah, they're not going to the RSPCA.

Apparently she's taken a liking to ragdolls, so they've been visiting and calling every breeder they could find in the area.  Seriously, they're willing to pay up to $1,000 to get a pure bred cat, rather than pay $150 at the local shelter and get one that's desexed, vaccinated and microchipped.  I just don't understand it.

I got my feline co-habitator from the RSPCA and she's the best cat you can imagine.  She's loving, cuddly, and very sweet.  She follows me around the house and sits at my feet wherever I end up settling.  Sure she has an unnatural obsession with the shadow on my bathroom wall and she hunts geckos like they're lions on an African safari, but she was honestly the best $150 I ever spent!

She thinks she's in charge in our
house, and she kind of is.

I don't think I'll ever understand people who just have to have a designer animal.  There are so many animals in shelters right now that need homes!  When you get a bitsa, you get the advantage of an animal which will generally have a better personality, fewer health problems, and you'll have the added bonus of knowing you rescued an dog that may have been on death row.  

Isn't that worth more than being able to say with equal parts pride and arrogance, "Oh, it's a purebreed" as it yaps mercilessly and snaps at everyone in sight?

Crafty...

Now that we’re all getting to know each other a little better, I think it’s time to tell you about some of my more … interesting … hobbies.  You see, I’m a Gemini, and in true Gemini fashion, I have a tendency to jump on a fad or obsession, ride it until it’s exhausted, and then put it down and never look at it again.  It’s resulted in there being a lot of different phases in my creative life … as well as a lot of abandoned craft items in my house.


I’m a fair crocheter, and I do like to knit.  In my family it’s a bit of a thing to know how to knit socks.  I’m pretty sure I’m the only one actively using that talent at the moment, but I’m determined not to let the skill become rusty.  What if we have another World War and I have to start knitting socks for our boys at the front!  I'm no good at rolling bandages or collecting scrap metal.  I need to be prepared!


I tried the whole DIY furniture refurbishing, but that one didn’t end so well.  Now I have a half stained occasional table, and a kitchen floor that looks like someone was murdered in there.  Turns out furniture stain is impossible to get out of lino.  That was an interesting one to try and explain to my landlady!  


I ended up spinning quite the story about deceptive furniture stain instructions and hardware shop attendants who should find other forms of employment based on their bad advice.  I'm not sur if she believed me, but she was gracious enough to pretend that she did.


Embroidery is harder than it looks.  One delightfully misguided family member got me one of those “embroider it yourself” tablecloths as a gift one year, and I gamely went to the craft store and stocked up on embroidery thread of every possible colour.  But it didn’t take me long to realise that just because you can sew on a button and sort of fix a hem, that didn’t automatically translate into you being an elite status seamstress.  


So that resulted in yet another half finished project and a tablecloth that could have been lovely if it wasn't for the sad, sorry, puckered stitching around the edges.


It's handy for throwing over the bird cage though!

Luckily the threads didn’t go to waste after I discovered the joys of Subversive Cross-stitch.  It was positively serendipitous, what with the snarky irreverence and the modest level of skill required.  It took a while to get the hang of, but now I can cross-stitch curse words wreathed in flowers with the best of them.  

My mother still tuts and shakes her head every time she comes over to my place and sees the one I have nicely framed and on display on my side board.  But really, is there anything more elegant that telling someone to shut the fuck up via needlepoint?  How can you look at this and NOT want to hang it on your wall!

Exactly!

An open letter to my neighbours...

Dear douchebags,

I’ve always been one to follow the tenets of love thy neighbour and live and let live, but I’m seriously considering indulging in some vigilante justice right now.

I’ve always been pleased to live in this neighbourhood.  I picked it specifically for the number of trees it has despite the fact that it’s only five minutes from the city centre.  It’s a beautiful, green oasis and I love the fact that I can look out the window and see so much greenery around me.  I love the way the trees are so tall that they loom over my house, and they look so much like they’re straight out of an Enid Blyton story that a tribe of frick’n pixies might be living in their roots.  I’m always ecstatic if I’m home on the day they lose their leaves for the winter, so I can sit out on the back veranda for that magical hour as they swirl around in the air, dancing on the breeze. 

Those trees have been there for a very long time, much longer than either you or I have been alive.  They’re gorgeous things, so tall and gnarled and they provide the perfect privacy cover for both myself and the people who live over the back fence.  So, while I understand you were probably upset about them shading your vegetable patch or dropping leaves on your lawn or something equally inane, this in no way gave you the right to SNEAK INTO MY BACKYARD AND RING BARK SAID TREES JUST BECAUSE MY LANDLADY REFUSED TO HAVE THEM CUT DOWN!!!

I don’t know which of you is the perpetrator, although I have my suspicions.  There’s no way of working it out given that you snuck into the backyard in the middle of the night to do it like the cowards that you are, so I’m having to write this as an open letter. 

Yes, I know she received a couple of requests from various people, and I also know that after talking to both myself and the family who live in the other duplex she decided not to do it.  She offered to have the branches pruned that were affecting people, but whoever you are, Mr or Ms Midnight Tree Murderer, that obviously wasn’t enough for you.  You were so enraged by the fact that she didn’t do what you asked that you crept into my backyard, tied a wire around the trees, and essentially ended their lives.  They won’t die right away, but from this point on they’re living on borrowed time.  I’m sure your thought was that my landlady would find out, be outraged but unable to prove anything, and be forced to call someone out to have it removed.  But it will take a while for the trees to die, perhaps even up to a year.  Those trees are staying right where they are up until there’s no other option. 

You may have got what you wanted, but you’re going to have to wait for it!  We’re not giving in a second before we have to.

Yours angrily

Kellie.

P.S. To those neighbours who had nothing to do with the ring barking, please disregard the above.  I love you all from the bottom of my heart and will forever be grateful for your preferences for going to bed early rather than throwing rowdy parties that last until 3am ... although some of you could stand to work on your parking skills.

Bursting the bubble of the koala myth...

Sure he looks cute,
but don't be fooled.

As an Australian, I'm used to the fact that our animals are ... shall we say unusual.  Kangaroos, wombats, platypus, we've got our fair share of freaky critters down under.  And don't even get me started on the spiders and snakes!

But there's one animal that I've noticed that overseas tourists all seem obsessed about, and I don't understand it at all.  Why, may I ask, is everyone so worked up about the koala?

I don't think I've met a single person who was visiting from overseas who didn't want to hold a koala.  There's a whole tourist industry based around it, where for an overpriced fee said tourist can go, have a koala shoved unceremoniously into their arms, and get their picture taken.  Seriously, people actually pay to hold one of those vicious little monsters!

... and he shows his true nature.

Everyone seems to think they're cute, fuzzy little teddy-bear like creatures that they can cuddle.  I'm sure most of them idly daydream about sneaking one into their luggage and taking it home with them thinking it'd make an awesome pet.  Kind of like one of those god awful little dogs ... but that's a rant for a different post.  But they couldn't be further from the truth.

The fact is, koalas are not nice animals.  Seriously, I've met more amiable rottweilers.  They scratch, they growl, they bite.  They stink to high heavens, something you don't realise until some underpaid koala sanctuary worker is apathetically shoving one into your waiting arms.  And the noises they make, you can't really imagine them until you've heard them.

Still don't believe me?  Think that they're sweet little things that couldn't possibly be as awful and vicious as I'm painting them to be.  Well watch this youtube video of some tourists who thought it would be a good idea to get close to a couple of wild koalas on a road.  Lets just say the koalas disabused them of that notion pretty quickly.

Just consider it a public service announcement.

You're welcome.

Why reality television is EVIL...

I don't really spend that much time watching television any more.  Of course I used to be a slave to the boob tube just like everyone else, but with the popularity of TV show box sets, iTunes, and internet streaming, it's gotten to the point where I can go weeks without even turning it on.

But when I do switch it on to check out what's happening I've noticed a disturbing trend.  Is it just me or are there a scary number of reality TV shows on these days?

Now I'm not very familiar with them, I must admit, but of course that's never stopped me from having strongly held opinions before so lets get down to brass tacks.  I'm firmly of the opinion that reality television is going to result in THE END OF CIVILISATION AS WE KNOW IT!!!

A bit over the top, you say?  Perhaps I'm exaggerating a tad?  Oh, I don't think so!  It's possible I'm allowing my obvious hatred for the format to cloud my judgement, but I think you'll find my argument stands on it's own feet.

As far as I can tell reality television serves one purpose only, to embarrass and vilify the people on it.   Sure, it's in the context of whatever the show is about, but the result's the same.  A cooking show?  The judges stand there and yell abuse about the poor contestant's bouillabaisse.  A renovation show?  They're pitted against each other in such a way that by the end of it they'd cheerfully nail gun the other to a wall and are made to look like complete prats to the public.  One of those adventure survival shows?  They're stuck in awful situations, the worse the better, and we all sit on our couches and chuckle as they're forced to do painful, humiliating and dangerous things for the chance to win some vaguely hinted at prize.

Are you sensing a trend here?

TV has always been about escapism.  You watch people doing or having awful things done to them, but it's okay because you know that it's not real and at the end of the hour everything will be neatly sewn up with a happy ending.  But with reality TV, these are real people, with real people feelings.  So why is it okay to take so much joy in their pain and trauma?  Some might argue that they put themselves into the situation so they deserve what they get, but that doesn't excuse our behaviour.  Insensitivity is insensitivity.

I remember watching an episode of Doctor Who where, in the future, reality television had evolved to a point where the repercussions had grown worse and worse to appease the public, the result being that the loser were executed live on TV to make it more interesting.  In true Doctor Who fashion they weren't really executed, and it was all solved by the end of the episode, but the point stands.

And THAT is why I think reality television is evil...

Back to the future?... past?... present?...

And THAT, my friends, is why time travel makes you shit at grammar!

Okay, so maybe it's less time travel and more my shitty grammar that makes me shit at grammar ... but my point still stands!

But I digress.

Lately I've been thinking about time travel.  Not in an "I'm an insane person who's going to gaffa tape a mobile phone an a shit load of plutonium to a vintage car and try to get myself blown up" kind of way, more in a "Hmm, I wonder what I'd do first if The Doctor's blue box landed in my front yard and offered to take me anywhere/when" kind of way.

So, after careful deliberation, here is my list of places I'd want to go if time travel was cheap, reliable and guaranteed to not rip a hole in the space/time continuum if I accidentally meet my seven year old self and pat her on the head.


1.  The Athenian Agora:  Ooh, time to learn something new about me!  Did you know I've got a degree in archaeology?  True bananas!  When I decided I was bored and wanted to go back to school, I looked over the courses and picked the most interesting one I could find.  It also translated to the least job opportunity creating, I'm afraid.  I live in Australia.  We're limited in what's available archeologically speaking to the past 200 years ... unless you're REALLY into shell middens.  But back to the Agora!  While I was studying I did a whole class on it during an intensive summer semester and I loved it!  I loved learning all the indepth stuff about a specific place rather than the typical overview that you get in those classes.  I'd love to go back to when it was the bustling city centre of Athens and see if it looks anything like the recreations.

2.  Times Square in 1945 when peace was declared:  Can you imagine being part of that party?  I've always been a teeny bit obsessed with the world wars (remind me to show you my collection of unknown WWI Soldier portraits that I rescued from second hand shops and eBay sometime) and I think I'd like to experience what it felt like when they all realised it was finally over.  The partying, the dancing in the streets, how amazing would that be?

3.  Woodstock:  I'm not much of a music person, I've always preferred the narrative to give me my moods, but I AM a liberal hippie Pagan and it looks like the sort of place I'd fit right in ... as long as i didn't have to spend the night.  From what I understand, the toilet facilites left a lot to be desired, and I'm a bit precious about that sort of thing.  I think roughing it is staying in a three star hotel.

4.  America's "Wild West" in the 1850's:  Late enough that there's stuff going on and they're settled, but before the Civil War.  Come one, who as a child DIDN'T want to be a cowboy/girl?  I love the idea of the Old West, or maybe I just love the idea of crinolines, I'm not sure.  Either way, I'd love to go and see what it was really like.  I can't ride a horse ... but that's what they invented carriages for, right?

5.  Last Thursday:  I've only got two words to say about this one ... Lotto numbers!


So, there you go, my list of places to go in a TARDIS!  I wonder what you'd choose?

The Star Trek conspiracy...

For those of you who have read some of my other blog entries, this will come as no surprise to you.  I’m a geek.  A huge sci-fi watching, computer game playing, tech gadget loving, internet surfing geek.  So it’s understandable that I have some rather strongly held opinions on certain issues involving geek culture.  There’s one in particular I’d like to bring to your attention. 

The Star Trek movie they brought out in 2009 should never have happened.

You may be cute, but you're no Picard.

Now, before you all start howling about how it was such a good film and how cute Chris Pine was in it and how it honoured the memory of Gene Roddenberry (may he rest in peace), I just want to make one thing clear.  I’m not saying, insinuating, or in any way implying that I thought it was a bad film.  In fact I rather liked it.  It was fun, the story was good, the effects top notch, and there were plenty of fannish inside jokes to pander to those who were fans of the series.  I’m not saying it was a bad film, that’s simply not the point I’m trying to make.

What I’m trying to say is … it shouldn’t have happened.  Think of it this way.  As a fan I’ve put many years into loving Star Trek.  I’ve watched the episodes, learned the history, developed theories and ideas about the parts that aren’t covered by canon … essentially, I’m committed.  I’ve put in the hard yards and I think I’ve earned my spot as a Star Trek fan. 

But then one day someone who isn’t Gene Roddenberry (may he rest in peace) gets up and says, “You know what?  We’re going to reboot the whole series!  Start from scratch!  We’ll wipe out everything that ever happened and we’ll change the storyline so significantly that there’s no way that the old history could happen again.  Hell, we’ll destroy a whole planet just to make sure that it’s impossible for some of the future characters to even be born!  It’ll be great, the fans will eat it up!”

You know what, Mr Someone Who Isn’t Gene Roddenberry (may he rest in peace)?  I’m a fan, and as much as I liked the film, I did NOT like the way it basically wiped out my universe!  You called a do-over, and now I’m left wondering if it’s a betrayal to MY universe to watch the new one!  No matter how enjoyable the new stories are, I’m still going to spend most of them thinking “This is good, but was it worth Tuvok’s life?”

Will nobody think of the officers!!!

I know a lot of (much less obsessive) people have listened to me rant on the topic, and then brought up the argument, “But it’s just like having a parallel universe, right?  They have those already in Star Trek, so it’s totally canon.”  That may be true, and I can see the logic behind it, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about it.  My Universe is gone, wiped out with the stroke of a pen.  

Saying it's a parallel universe doesn't alter the fact that, according to this new storyline, MY universe is gone.  My universe, which a put blood, sweat and tears into.  My universe, where the characters I love exist.  I think they've under estimated just how dedicated we fans are to what we see as the REAL Star Trek.

No, Mr Someone Who Isn't Gene Roddenberry (may he rest in peace), you may have given the Star Trek franchise a new lease on life … but at what cost?

Why I don't hold dinner parties...

I love cooking shows.  I love watching them as they create little pieces of art out of four potatoes, an eggplant, and a crawfish.  I love how excited they get about it, waxing romantical about the joys of food.  What I don't like?  Cooking.

But I do love watching those shows.  I remember I used to love Jamie Oliver (before he became famous and a bit of a prat), and watched his earlier shows religiously.  He was just so enthusiastic!  He'd stumble over his words and be all sorts of adorable while the person behind the camera had to egg him on by asking questions about what he was doing.  I'm also a big fan of Nigella Lawson, the woman who can make de-boning a chicken look X-rated.  Seriously, anyone who can act that sensual about food while not actually doing anything sexual has my stamp of approval!

Like a lot of things I have an interest in, though, I'd much prefer to watch someone else do it than attempt it myself.  My philosophy is I'm not a professional.  If my toilet broke, I'd call a plumber, not stick my hand down the s bend.  So if I want a chicken kiev I'm going to go to the person most qualified to give it to me.

And most of the time that person is a chef at a restaurant or a cafe (and occasionally my mother).

So why am I bringing it up?  Well, today I found myself in the position of having to roast half a kilo of almonds.  I've never roasted an almond before, let alone half a kilo of them, and I wouldn't have had to today if my supermarket wasn't so plebeian that they only sold them raw instead of the barbeque roast flavour that I prefer! How very dare they!

But how exactly does one roast an almond?  After a quick sacrifice to the Google gods, I discovered that you just whack them in a low oven for about ten minutes, or until the smell of roasting almonds comes wafting out.  I don't know, Google!  It's not a good idea to give me options when it comes to something I'm not very good at.  I always pick the wrong one.  Always!

My oven, artist's interpretation.

And what does a roasting almond smell like, anyway?  They've always already been roasted by the time I get them!  So I went with the timed option.  Might not have been the best option, especially when paired with the unpredictable nature of my 473 year old gas oven (age estimated based on an excavation of grease layers).

So now I have two trays of roasted almonds, all of them slightly funny looking and ... for some strange reason ... more than a little chewy.  I'm relatively sure that none of the almonds I've bought from the shops ever looked like this.

Crap, maybe I should have just got the cashews...

And you've got to be ready...

It's been talked about in the media, covered by movies, television, and generations of literature.  It's been screamed about on street corners by gentlemen who could seriously use a bath and a sandwich, and whispered about in secret corners by wide eyed, terrified looking simpletons.

What is it, you ask?

The zombie apocalypse, of course.  Are you ready for it?

Now, I know what you're thinking.  Why is she worried about something like that?  It's not like zombies really exist or anything.  They're just figments of an overly neruotic public consciousness married with our inner conflict of both being afraid of death and being fascinated by it.  They're not real.

The family that fights zombies together...

But the fact is if there's even a remote chance of the decaying undead rising from their graves and wanting to suck my brains out through my nose with a straw, I'm totally going to draw up a blueprint of the best places in town to stockpile weaponry.  We need to be organised so we can fight the evil menace and wipe it out before it takes over completely!  That's why I'm officially inviting you all to join my Zombie Attack Force.

So, for those of you who are onboard, here's the plan.

1.  The zombies rise from the graves and begin their reign of terror, stumbling through the streets, chewing people's arms off, and muttering "Brains ... brains...".  It's around this time that you should start getting together all the supplies you can.  Bottled water, canned food, ransack the neighbours places if you have to.  And don't let them fool you ... she might look like a sweet little five year old with pigtails, but she's a potential brain muncher just like the rest of them!

2.  We will all meet in the mall in the centre of town, where I have hidden a secret cache of nerf weapons under the fountain of the little boy peeing in the pool in preparation for just such an event.  Feel free to mow down any zombies who get in your way with your car ... if you start to have a moral dilemma with it, just think of it as a really realistic game of Grand Theft Auto.  I considered stockpiling real weapons, but I figured what with the slowness of their movement and the decaying and all, nerf projectiles will probably do the job just as well.  Besides, have you ever tried to get your hands on a bazooka?  It's REALLY hard to do.

3.  Once we're all armed, then we will take to the streets.  Remember, it's our duty to help dispatch of the menace that is invading our homes.  Take those suckers down!  And don't forget that your fellow zombie hunters are also potential risks.  Just because they're on your side right now, doesn't mean that they won't try to rip your head off if you turn your back to them!  Don't trust anyone, any person you come across could be a potential enemy...

... okay, I'm not sure I've thought this through as well as I'd hoped.  You know what?  Screw the zombie fighting army, you're  all on your own!

And if you could all just forget about the cache under the statue ... that'd be super...

The facts of science fiction...

When I woke up today I decided that the time had come.  Time for us to have ... the talk.  Come on now, don't look at me like that.  You knew it had to happen sometime.  I know I've avoided it so far, I didn't want to stress our burgeoning relationship, but I think that it's time for me to sit you all down and explain a few of the facts of life, or at least a few of the facts of MY life.

Specifically, I think it's time for me to explain to you all my, some would say unhealthy, obsession with science fiction.

I suppose it all dates back to when I was around eleven years old and I first discovered that if I was willing to wake up at five in the morning I could sneak out into the lounge room and watch an old British kids show that some television genius had decided to put on in that oh so popular timeslot.  The show was called The Tomorrow People, had been filmed in the 70's, and was based on a bunch of kids who were the next step of human evolution (and seemed to have no parents, as far as I could tell).

The Tomorrow People

It was badly acted, poorly funded, had some of the worst special effects you can imagine (and this is coming from a Doctor Who fan) ... and somehow managed to capture my imagination.  I set my alarm religiously for a whole year, getting up every morning to watch it, until a change in the TV schedule took it away from me and shattered my poor little tween heart.

But by that point I was hooked.  It wasn't long until I discovered other sci-fi classics being re-run on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon.  Land of the Giants, The Twilight Zone, Lost In Space, Buck Rogers, and Time Tunnel all featured prominently in my schedule.  It's strange, they weren't the sort of shows a young girl was supposed to like ... but I adored them.  I suppose it should have been a warning for what came next.

When I was around twelve a new version of Star Trek started airing.  I think The Next Generation was a bit of an experiment.  They were trying to see if it was even possible to bring back something that had been so popular back in the day.  But it was a success, and like all the other's before it, I fell hook, line and sinker.

Wil Wheaton, then and now.

It didn't hurt that there was a boy on it that was around my age and who, in my youthful naivety, I thought was just dreamy.  Of course that boy was Wil Wheaton, who grew up to be famous on the internet and one of the biggest geek legends out there, so I'm going to believe that it shows my good taste even at such a young age.

I followed Star Trek: TNG for a couple of years, at which point I entered the mid years of being a teenager who couldn't possibly do anything that might make her look uncool (don't be fooled, I was incredibly uncool as a teenager) and of course promptly stopped.  That marked the beginning of several bleak, barren, sci-fi free years.

But then a miracle occurred, an amazing miracle!  A friend of mine introduced me to a show called Sliders.  I originally agreed to watch it as the lead actor was Jerry O'Connell who I thought was adorable.  Are you sensing a trend here?  I never claimed to be noble, I've always been completely shallow and easily swayed by a cute guy.

The show was about a group of people who travelled to parallel universes, having adventures, trying to get back to their own.  It had been a good five years since I'd really watched any science fiction, but it was like coming home again!  I soaked it up, haunting my local video rental waiting for each new VHS release (yep, I'm definitely dating myself there).

Once I was back, it didn't take me long to work out I had a lot of catching up to do.  I had years of Star Trek, in two different series, to watch.  And then, to my joy, a third series began!  Star Trek Voyager was, and still is to this day, my favourite of all the Star Treks.

The picture on my work desk.

I'm not claiming it's the best acted or the cleverest or the most significant, but what it is is the first of them that I watched in order from start to finish.  It will always have a special place in my heart because of that and even now I keep a wee little picture of the crew of the USS Voyager on my desk at work, my OTHER family portrait as I call it.

From that point there was really no stopping me.  I caught up on the Star Treks, got into Buffy when it started, then Angel too.  I watched The X Files, Farscape, Dark Angel, Xena, Seaquest, Lost, Firefly, Life on Mars, Being Human, and so many more.  All these wonderful, imaginative, sometimes tacky shows.

And while I loved them all I didn't really find another that filled that gap that Voyager left ... until in 2005 the BBC decided to bring back their old classic Doctor Who.  Finally I'd found another true sci-fi love, one that lasts to this day, and from it I found Torchwood which I think I might love even more.  But really, it'd be like asking me to choose which child I loved more.  I have to think of them as a package deal just to keep my sanity intact.

I've been very lucky with my science fiction obsessions, I think, and about six months ago I found a new one.  I don't know how it was that I'd never watched Stargate Atlantis before, somehow it had slipped through my radar, but all it took was a crossover fanfic with one of my other favourite shows and I found myself enchanted with the characters.  From there it was a short step to getting hold of the episodes.

I'm still only half way through the five years worth (I like to take my time and savour them, especially as I know exactly how long I've got), but it's shaping up to be another sci-fi soul mate.

SGA:  my newest obsession.

I know it seems a bit over the top, but this is who I am.  Some people religiously follow football or car racing (which I really don't get), I choose to devote my obsessive tendencies to science fiction shows.  I can't say they changed my life, or saved me or anything suitably dramatic like that ... but I can say that I love them with all of my heart.  They get me, I think.

Of course, I'm also obsessed with Glee, but probably the less said about that the better...

The dirty cleaning truth...

I like to think of myself as a common or garden variety modern woman.  I'm (relatively) young, independent, self sufficient, only slightly neurotic, and capable of keeping both myself and a cat alive simultaneously.  I'd say that puts me ahead of the curve in most cases.

I own a car, a washing machine, and a ridiculous looking fake silver tree that sits on my side board and serves no noticeable purpose.  I work 40 hours a week, do the bare minimum of housework that I can get away with without someone mistaking my place for a demolition site, and spend far too much time on the internet.  I'm your standard single office dwelling thirty something.

But the truth is ... and I can't tell you how much my modern liberated soul rebels at telling you all this ... there's a wee little part of me that can't help singing with glee when I read a cleaning tip in a magazine.  A small part of my subconscious perks up when I see a beautifully laid out living room plan in a home decorating magazine.  Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my brain, is the knowledge that you can use a walnut to erase scratches on polished wooden furniture.

Yes ... I'm a cleaning porn junkie.

I know!  I'm not supposed to want it!  I'm not supposed to yearn for the days when keeping an immaculate house was the benchmark of an accomplished woman.  But I just can't help it!

There's just something about the whole idea of it!  A beautiful house, scrubbed and polished within an inch of it's life.  The smell of fresh baking wafting from the kitchen.  Crisp linens drying on the line in the back yard.

And the funny thing?  It's not like I have any intention of DOING any of these things!  Oh no, that would cut into my sitting on the couch and bumming around on the internet far more than I'm comfortable with!

Maybe that's it!  I don't want to be an old fashioned housewife, I want to GET an old fashioned housewife!  That'd be perfect!  I'd have all the benefits of having a perfectly appointed and immaculately kept house without having to do any of the nasty jobs myself.  It'd be perfect, I could come home to "How was your day, Honey" a pair of warmed slippers, and a martini.

Only one problem ... I'm not gay.  So I guess a housewife is out of the question.  I could always try for a house husband I suppose, but from observation I'd say that an old fashioned house husband is about a thousand times harder to find than one of the feminine variety.

I could always hire someone I guess.  Put an add on Craigslist?  "Wanted, male homekeeper for a slightly scatterbrained professional woman.  Must be adept at doing laundry, scrubbing, baking, and aforementioned woman (boom-chicka-wa-wa)."

Hmm, but when you're talking about hiring a spouse rather than a cleaning person, you end up walking a pretty fine line between mail order groom and gigolo ... and I'm not entirely sure which side of that line I'd prefer to fall on.

I am woman, hear me meow...

I am, like most women of my generation, a feminist.  A post feminist?  A humanist?  I'm not even sure what the acceptable expression is anymore, feminism has gotten a pretty bad rap and most people avoid the phrase if they can.

I hate having to admit it ... but I can see why it's gotten such a bad reputation.  Feminists are pretty much believed to be a bunch of angry, bitter women who want to be treated better than men because in the past women were treated worse, like it'll even out the cosmic scales.  There's something inherently unlikeable about people who try to counter injustice by swinging things in the other direction.  Rather than striving to fix the problem, it like they're trying to punish people for what happened.  Bad, bad things were done in the past, so now we demand preferential treatment to make up for it!  That'll show ya!  It's even worse when the people demanding and the people being demanded of weren't even the ones involved in the original injustice.  I guess I just don't get that whole "Sins of the Father" mentality.

Having said that, and as someone who did a major in Ancient History in university, I am a strong believer in the whole learning from history or you'll be doomed to repeat it concept.  Knowledge is power.  It's important that we know what the injustices were in the past, and how they came to be, so we can make sure we don't walk down that path again.  I just don't think that past wrongs necessarily translate to future preferential treatment or the right to be douchebaggy.   There's far too much douchebaggery in this day and age, in my opinion.

Of course, I have the highest level of respect, awe and gratitude for the women who in the past fought so I could do whatever I wanted with my career and would earn the same amount, could vote (even if last time I voted for Donald Duck), could own property, and a billion and one other things that men already had the right to do.  Those women deserve all the praise and reverence the rest of us can muster.  I just can't help thinking that when women (and I've seen many of them do it) take their fight and what they accomplished, and then use to to somehow gain preferential treatment, it's spitting in the face of what those women were trying to accomplish!  Using a struggle for equality to force inequality onto others ... oh, the irony.

I suppose you're wondering why I'm rambling on about this topic.  It's pretty much out of left field.  The reason is I stumbled across this youtube video and I couldn't help but be appalled.  Feminists protesting at a forum that was promoting support for abused husbands.  Seriously?  It's things like this that have made feminism such a controversial term.

I suppose I'm lucky.  I'm old enough to vaguely remember when women weren't necessarily treated equally, but young enough that it didn't really affect me.  I guess I'm part of that generation that they all talk about when they say that a social injustice won't truly disappear until everyone who remembers it is dead and gone.

But I heard someone use an expression the other day that got me thinking.  Feminazi.  I suppose I can understand where they're coming from.  Committing mass genocide while trying to take over most of Europe ... wanting equal rights regardless of what's between your legs ... they're totally the same thing.