tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44893647550162009392024-03-05T23:49:27.508+10:00Partners in crime... and also Rent.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-87233647082917750142011-12-13T17:19:00.002+10:002011-12-13T17:23:03.095+10:00Procedural Skills<blockquote>"Now I just need you to extend your arm forwards. Yes, like that... And the other one.... yep, good. Okay, now can I get you to turn your hands over- no. No, stop that. No- just- Put your hands down- NICKI, THE MACARENEA IS NOT A DIAGNOSTIC TEST."</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-11546093982523878972011-12-07T18:25:00.004+10:002011-12-07T18:37:42.330+10:00The Shire of Bland<div><b></b></div><blockquote><div><b>N:</b></div><div>"I think it's time for water crackers."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>K:</b></div>"I love water crackers."<div><br /></div><div>"Me too; I'll get the dips."</div><div><br /></div><div>"You know, I love them so much that I would quite happily eat them bland."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, I'll drink to that."</div><div><br /></div><div>"... we lead interesting lives."</div><div><br /></div><div><i><b>later:</b></i></div><div><br /></div><div><b>K:</b></div><div>"I notice I tend to go for the little bit-at-a-time approach, whereas you just get massive chunks of dip."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>N:</b></div><div>"We have complementary methods."</div><div><br /></div><div>"We have complementary ways of eating dip?"</div><div><br /></div><div><i><b>later still:</b></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><b>K:</b></div><div>"... It's not really dip- appropriate weather, is it?"<br /><br /><b>N:</b></div><div>"Please stop saying things I feel obligated to include in the blog."</div><div><br /></div><div><b><br /></b></div></blockquote><div>We do. It's a legitimate thing.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-81908091120165143982011-12-07T13:41:00.003+10:002011-12-07T13:54:19.143+10:00Conversations<blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><b>K:</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">"So let me get this straight. Jim and Brenton are sat in the labs at uni discussing it, while you and I are sat <i>here,</i> discussing it, and you and Brenton are texting each other to inform both parties of the separate discussions that are occurring simultaneously about the same thing."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>N:</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Err, yes."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>K:</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You know what I think? I think we should just form a committee. We can all sit down and raise various motions and take votes. That would be far, far easier for all involved."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>N:</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">"But then how would we handle the Spanish Confessionals?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o'-tea Count:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span">An adequate amount for good confabulation.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-82773581385783026282011-12-06T20:15:00.003+10:002011-12-06T20:18:15.609+10:00I think I speak for everyone when I say "MEDICINE; YOU WEIRD."<blockquote><b>K:</b></blockquote><blockquote>"You won't believe this, but there is such a thing as- well, firstly you should know that I'm doing a bit on ear infections- and one of the cures is called an aural toilet." </blockquote><blockquote><b><br /></b></blockquote><blockquote><b>N:</b></blockquote><blockquote>"An oral toilet? That makes no sense. Also it's a bit gross." </blockquote><blockquote><br /></blockquote><blockquote>"No, no, no. An aural toilet. It's... well, I suppose it's a toilet that goes in your ear." </blockquote><blockquote><br /></blockquote><blockquote>"What." </blockquote><blockquote><br /></blockquote><blockquote>"Yeah. I'll see if I can find a picture... oh, nope, that's just actual people sitting on actual toilets. Ooh, but there's a good one here of an elephant sat on a giant loo." </blockquote><blockquote><br /></blockquote><blockquote>"An aural toilet is an elephant sat on a giant loo? Remind me never to go the doctors ever again."</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-49003322528794108352011-12-02T20:17:00.001+10:002011-12-02T20:23:40.956+10:00Uni Life<blockquote>
<b>N:</b> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
"Man, I love being a Uni student. It's 8:30 and I still have plans to go out and stand by a street to take photos for my I&P course, and then go drinking and video game playing after that. This is great! It's like the evening is my morning all over again!"</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote>
<b>K:</b> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
"Yes, well you live in a twilight zone. Every day is like that for you."</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-83274496157079369612011-11-25T22:45:00.001+10:002011-12-02T20:26:07.563+10:00Fun and Games<blockquote>
<b>K:</b><br />
"I'm bored; entertain me!" </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<b>N:</b><br />
"Okay here's a fun game. I'm sending you on a treasure hunt, and you only get two clues. The object I want you to find has roughly the same dimensions as a DVD and written somewhere on it is "El Orphanato, a film by Guillermo Del Toro." </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<b>K:</b><br />
"You're a little bit shit sometimes, aren't you?"</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>5 Minutes Later </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>K:</b><br />
"Not only is that a shit game, but I have also just lost it." </blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-4052747490013557312011-11-23T00:43:00.001+10:002011-11-23T15:27:29.725+10:00On Tea, featuring Brenton<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Nipper: </b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I keep forgetting how much I like it between cups. Sometimes, there are even cups of tea that I take entirely for granted."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Brenton, a fellow lover of tea:</b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Wow. That's a terrible thing to say."</blockquote>
<blockquote>
"But then every once in a while I'll have tea and think 'there really is nothing better than this.' I mean I have it when I'm working or when I'm reading and I don't really take time out to appreciate it; it's just kind of there like a really good friend... and then some days you realise that your really good friend is totally top notch and you get all emotional about it. That is what my relationship with tea is like." </blockquote>
<blockquote>
"... That is really just oddly specific."</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-91064788834061400872011-11-19T18:32:00.005+10:002011-11-19T18:59:04.912+10:00Daisy's tail<blockquote>
<b>K, on phone:</b><br />
<div>
"Oh my God, you're not going to believe what just happened!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>N, in Woolies:</b></div>
<div>
"Err what? Can it wait twenty minutes only I'm just in the middle of-"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"No. This is ridiculous you have to hear it."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Okay then, shoot."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"OKAY SO DAISY'S TAIL JUST-"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"... Just what? Just fell off? Became sentient? Changed colour? Wha-- oh."<br />
<div>
</div>
</div>
</blockquote>
<div>
<div>
<br />
Her phone had run out of battery, and I had just assumed it was a pause for dramatic effect and kept talking.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The correct answer, by the way, was 'caught fire'. The cat's tail had just caught fire.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o'-tea Count:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span">Soothing a bruised Dignity.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-24033982662788041602011-11-18T17:32:00.002+10:002011-11-24T22:28:31.909+10:00Guest Post<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Julie, a supercool film person:</b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"'Whenever's earliest for you?' That's like 'whenever's easiest for you'- except the <i>complete opposite</i> of that."</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-64914472999470619192011-10-28T21:43:00.002+10:002011-10-28T21:44:52.953+10:00CoffeeK, while trying to pour ground coffee from one container to another:<div><br /></div><div>"Oh dear, I'm not very good at handling powdery things. It's a good job I'm not a drug lord."</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-52771374032961861842011-10-25T00:43:00.006+10:002011-10-25T00:52:33.244+10:00Downton Abbey (Series 2 Episode 7 Trailer)<div>"Well, Good Grief."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Indeed. I think we should take a moment to- well, first to appreciate Oliver Cockerham's name there in the credits- and then to bask in the sheer beautiful magnificence that is Dame Maggie Smith and everything she does."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o'-tea Count:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span">Only the correct amount for ladies of our standing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-65385169185126144952011-10-19T20:25:00.005+10:002011-10-19T20:35:59.684+10:00Chicken Cacciatore<div></div><blockquote><div><br /></div><div>"How much wine did it say to put in there?"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"About half a cup. How much did you put in?"</div><div><br /></div>"... Yeah, we're going to get drunk off dinner."</blockquote><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o'-tea Count: </span> There is no tea, only wine!<br />.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-8369452495399319522011-10-08T10:23:00.007+10:002011-10-19T20:35:43.896+10:00Thunder<blockquote>"In films- when they need thunder sounds- what do they do?"<div><br /></div><div>"They go out and record thunder."</div><div><br /></div><div>"But what if there isn't any?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Then I guess they'd probably use stock sounds from their library."</div><div><br /></div><div>"What if there aren't any stock sounds?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"There's always stock sounds."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh..."</div><div><br /></div><div>"... Do you want me to tell you they record the sound of wheelie bins?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes."</div><div><br /></div><div>"They record the sound of wheelie bins."</div><div><br /></div><div>"AWESOME."</div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o'-tea Count: </span> <span class="Apple-style-span">ALL OF THE TEA.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-35580649459083744122011-09-14T20:03:00.002+10:002011-09-14T20:20:03.186+10:00Cooking Carbonara"Did you just eat raw bacon?"<div><br /></div><div>"... Yeah?"</div><div><br /></div><div><i><sigh></sigh></i> "I didn't even need to look up to know you were doing that. Honestly, and you were going on about me not cutting off the ends of the beans last night."</div><div><br /></div><div>"And?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"And you're eating <i>raw bacon."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>"Yeah, but I wouldn't eat raw ends-of-beans."</div><div><br /></div><div>---</div><div><br /></div><div>Later...</div><div><br /></div><div>---</div><div><br /></div><div>"GET BACK YOU FILTHY END-OF-BEAN EATER!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"YOU SICKEN ME! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND TAKE YOUR BEAN ENDS WITH YOU!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"BEGONE, EATER OF BEANENDS!"</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-20051645155242287222011-09-10T16:14:00.005+10:002011-10-19T20:40:10.485+10:00Why we have been absent<div style="text-align: left;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Nipper to K's brother:</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Hey, Ad. D'you mind if I download an emulator on your laptop?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Kiki:</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"What's an emulator?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Nipper:</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"It let's you play video games on your computer."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Kiki:</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh... you want to play pokémon, don't you?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Nipper:</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"... Yes."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Kiki:</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">"You are the biggest dork of them all."</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-61314607205907512742011-07-23T22:09:00.003+10:002011-07-23T22:16:51.373+10:00Home RenovationsWith a special guest appearance from K's mum.<div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div><b>K's mum: </b></div><div>"You know, girls, we could always knock through to the bathroom to make an ensuite."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Nipper:</b></div><div>"And then what would I do, if there are two ensuites and none of them are connected to my room?"</div><div><br /></div><div><b>K's mum:</b></div><div>"Well, we'd just knock have to through to your room as well."</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Kiki:</b></div><div>"Oh, yes, and why don't we knock through to the neighbours house while we're at it: 'Don't mind us, we're just knocking through!'"</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Nipper:</b></div><div>"But this is our lounge!"</div><div><br /></div><div><b>K's mum:</b></div><div>"Not any more! We've knocked through!"</div><div><br /></div></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="">Cup of tea count</span>: Enough to satisfy the builders.</div><div>.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-10077347014853426682011-07-19T00:41:00.007+10:002011-10-19T20:31:44.018+10:00Morning Rituals<blockquote>"I quite like that the cats have a little morning/night ritual just like we do. If I leave my door open, they'll come and sleep on the end of my bed, and then when my alarm goes off, they get up and walk across my face to make sure I'm awake. Then they hear your alarm and they go off to scratch at your door until you let them in for morning cuddles, before they scamper off to follow me into the bathroom and I have to shoo them out so I can have a shower."<div><br /></div><div>"You have to shoo them out? There is a shower curtain you know. They don't have x-ray vision."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah, but I get worried that they'll get bored or poo somewhere while I'm in the shower and I'm terrified of having to clean it up. I've learned the hard way that these cats need to have 24 hour access to their litter tray without exception, and even then it's a bit risky."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Huh. Y'know, the whole poo thing really ruined the idyllic morning thing you had going. I'd leave that out next time you tell it."</div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o-tea Count: </span>Making up for lost time!</div><div>.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-84969027719666213422011-07-03T20:32:00.003+10:002011-07-03T20:33:40.555+10:00K; on the many nuances of Wine<blockquote>"White, obviously, is different to red."</blockquote><blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-18375108665919616252011-06-30T21:45:00.005+10:002011-07-19T00:54:33.074+10:00Transformers the ThirdNippers would like it to be known that she hasn't actually seen the film, but she figures her input is relavent anyway. She would also like to that Kiki for taking one for the team and actually going out to see this film so she could report her findings to Nipper, who never actually left the couch.<br /><br /><blockquote>Transformers 3 is pretty much the same as all the others: lots of explosions from start to finish and very little else in between. The plot is the same as always- there are some good ones and some bad ones, and most of them are blown up. From the moment the trailers ended, the motion sickness set in, fuelled by a scene reminiscient of a laser skirmish in outer space. This tied in nicely with the inference that the Space Race of the 50s and 60s was not actually about Americans punching Russian dignity in the throat, or vice versa, but instead to do with an alien space ship on the moon. Niel Armsrtong and Buzz Aldrin were therefore not just holidaying on a floating rock, but also there to steal some cool shit from an intergalactic junkyard. In fact, Optimus Prime and Buzz Aldrin even start a little "I've been to space" buddy club, which presumably Armstrong wasn't invited to because he had BO, or because he has the good sense to stay the hell away from Transformers movies. There was a momentary glimpse of actual academic reference in the form of a robot that was designed after Albert Einstien, but then it died.<br /><br />John Malcovich- who's character they spent quite a while introducing- just disappeared half way through the film. He didn't die or anything; we can only assume he went on a toilet break and got heinously lost amongst the plumbing. And you know how in the earlier ones Megan Fox had white trousers that never seemed to get dirty? Well in this one the chick had a white jacket. Apparently dating Sam Witwickey gives your clothes the ability to instantaneously launder themselves. On a similar wardrobe-related note, there was a scene in which she was sent flying through a collapsing building, flung side to side through panes of glass, and went hurtling down the outside of said building- and somehow managed to keep these slip-on high heels on, revealing that this particular supermodel enjoys supergluing her shoes to the soles of her feet.<br /><br />Oh, and if you weren't sold on the Matrix of Leadership in the last film because it sounded like one of those wanky things your Religious Ed teacher goes on about, fear not: you've got the whole of this movie to warm up to it too!<br /><br />All in all, I don't know exactly what happened in the last three hours of my life, only that I will never get them back.<br /></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-73992935250135983992011-06-28T16:21:00.005+10:002011-10-25T00:51:07.635+10:00RSPCA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIGabIJ8Jkw3lzjGTkRzviOHexXhY8zJHu3lLtpqzm3GI6z12QsNLVS0P0JQXchBCZCsMe8nJZVmL-Yvcp9uCQga_HjvipI07tvOF-n9tJWOaRnBP6bX8b14tbV_MdJm4jNGyNNccrTc/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-06-28+at+4.32.34+PM.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 32px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIGabIJ8Jkw3lzjGTkRzviOHexXhY8zJHu3lLtpqzm3GI6z12QsNLVS0P0JQXchBCZCsMe8nJZVmL-Yvcp9uCQga_HjvipI07tvOF-n9tJWOaRnBP6bX8b14tbV_MdJm4jNGyNNccrTc/s400/Screen+shot+2011-06-28+at+4.32.34+PM.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623155033881816178" /></a><blockquote>"Oh, and you missed a call from the RSPCA."</blockquote><blockquote><div>"Oh really? What did they want?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"They said you've won a giraffe."</div><div><br /></div><div>"What."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah. She said Hi there I'm Blahdy Blah from the RSPCA is Nicki there, she's won a giraffe."</div><div><br /></div><div>"A giraffe."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Not Raffle. Not carafe. But giraffe."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes."</div><div><br /></div><div>"..."</div><div><br /></div><div>"... Well I may have misheard."</div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div>I have absolutely no idea when I entered this competition or whatever it is, or why they are offering large African mammals as prizes, or even how they got our home phone number, which even my cousins don't have. CONFUSION HAS.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cup-o'-tea Count: </span> Obviously plenty of the hallucinatory stuff.</div><div>.</div><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-91631241253279647742011-06-22T23:48:00.005+10:002011-06-23T00:12:06.742+10:00Sarcasm<blockquote><b>N: </b>I think I've buggered my back on the way home... [tries to move] - Oh, Christ on a bike.</blockquote><blockquote><div><b>K: </b>Were you on your bike?</div><div><br /></div><b>N: </b>Er, thanks... And yeah, feel free to worship me any time.<div><br /></div><b>K: </b>What? No- I meant did you do your back in on your bike, not that you're-<div><br /></div><b>N: </b>Yeah, I know. I was just joking.<div><br /></div><b>K: </b>You sounded pretty serious.<div><br /></div><b>N: </b>That's because I wasn't.<div><br /><div><b>K: </b>I can't even tell if you're being sarcastic or not anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>N: </b>What? Of course I was being sarcastic- weren't you?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>K: </b>Yes, of course I was. I was being sarcastic about you being sarcastic.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>N: </b>Well, obviously.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>K: </b>... I swear to God anyone listening in wouldn't have the faintest clue what either of us are on about.</div></div><div><br /></div></blockquote><div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Cup of tea count: </span>Apparently not enough to make any sort of sense whatsoever.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">EDIT: Also holy crap 10 views to go until we hit 500. I mean that's probably not a big number in the blogging world, but it's a lot of pageviews to people who are used to having only their mothers read their facebook page.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">.</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-42040256353271272842011-06-20T17:24:00.004+10:002011-06-20T17:32:16.639+10:00Birthday Invitations<div></div><blockquote><div>HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS ITS K'S BIRTHDAY.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is super important cause she's all kinds of rad and a bit like Jesus in that respect, which makes all of us her disciples, or pet donkeys. Like Jesus, she's invited us all along to this super dooper ace-tastic dinner thing to celebrate her existence, except she won't be dying at the end of it 'cause <i>unlike</i> Jesus she knows how to not put a downer on a party. Also unlike Jesus she won't be getting us to drink wine and pretend its her blood like some kind of wussy vampiric cult ritual, or singling one of us out to betray her by keying her car or something. So I guess actually she's not all that much like Jesus at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, it's going to be a pretty fun party so you should be there.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love from N</div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>I still don't see why we couldn't have sent that one out.</div><div><br /></div><div>.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-12425258848527813242011-06-12T23:28:00.005+10:002011-06-12T23:46:45.777+10:00Stranded<div><br /></div><div>So this week denotes the start of HolyShitThatEssay'sDueTodayIsn'tItBetterGetStarted block, as well as The Melbourne Trip and the beginning of the Double Whammy Birthday Shebang. Unfortunately, only one of these things has happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's the Melbourne Trip.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some of you may be aware that in the last week or so, a hill in Chile turned out to be quite a bit more explosive than most, and has been spewing out what can only be described as an awesome- that's awesome in the traditional 'I-am-incredibly-humbled-and-slightly-scared-by-the-sheer-power-and-majesty-of-it' sense of the word and not in the 'hey-that-hamster-is-wearing-knuckledusters' sense- plume of ash and fire lighting and all sorts of frankly insane freak weather since then. </div><div><br /></div><div>Conveniently, said plume of ash has decided not only to devastate the landscape of South America, (because that is where Chile is, and not near Turkey, as suggested by one member of our party, who seemed to be under the impression that all countries that share their names with foods must be next door to each other) but also to take a short holiday into Australian air space. That's right; a volcano has spewed an ash cloud that has travelled approximately 11, 362 km across the South Pacific Ocean and stopped air traffic in a totally different continent. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mother Nature is not a woman to be fucked with.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, this has meant that our flight home has been grounded <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(read: missed, cancelled, and never to be seen again)</span> and that after tonight the only thing we have left is the hire car, our singing voices and a lot of mobile phones with low battery.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>... Let the road trip begin.</div><div><br /></div><div>.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-32257614680360188402011-06-09T22:14:00.005+10:002011-06-10T13:46:08.931+10:00Family Portraits<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(73, 73, 73); line-height: 20px; font-family:Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;font-size:15px;"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); line-height: normal; font-family:arial;"><b>Kiki:</b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); ">"Awsh that is so cute."</span></span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;"><b>Nipper:</b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;">"What is?"</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;"><b>Kiki:</b></span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;">"Oh, it's just this picture of one of my old teachers and his son... and they've made a stegosaurus pizza."</span></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;">I've realised that it's not our lives that are interesting and hilarious, it's more that we are one pair of lunatics in a world of wonderful nutters.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); ">Cup of tea count</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); ">: Situation Critical. More teabags needed.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "><br /></span></span></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4489364755016200939.post-10765469458812370582011-06-07T21:21:00.004+10:002011-06-07T21:32:46.063+10:00Old Timey Songs<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(73, 73, 73); line-height: 20px; font-family:Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;font-size:15px;"><blockquote><b>Kiki (in song):</b></blockquote><blockquote>"There was cheese, cheese, crawling on it's knees</blockquote><blockquote>In the store, In the store.</blockquote><blockquote>There was cheese, cheese, crawling on it's knees,</blockquote><blockquote>In the quatermaster's store." </blockquote><blockquote>Ad infinitum with verses involving meat with feet, eggs on legs, bread doing headstands and feminist flour.</blockquote><blockquote><b>Nipper (in speech):</b></blockquote><blockquote>"Two things: firstly, I never, ever want to meet this quatermaster and his little gang of sentient mutant biohazard food friends, and two, I seem to recall you looking up that chant, and those definitely not being the words."</blockquote><blockquote><b>Kiki (ignoring, and still in song):</b></blockquote><blockquote>"My eyes are dim, I cannot see</blockquote><blockquote>I have not brought my specs with me.</blockquote><blockquote>I haaave no-ot brought my specs with me."</blockquote><blockquote><b>Nipper (still definitely not in song):</b></blockquote><blockquote>"Well, you certainly didn't have them with you when you were looking up the words."</blockquote><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:large;">Cup of tea count</span>: We are on rations. We have three teabags left. Situation is getting desperate.</div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0