Grumplestiltskin

This looks like a job for me.

2010-08-16T22:21:00.000+08:00

Guess who' back, back again.

Grumpy's back, tell a friend.

Super solar sonar radar

2008-02-09T17:54:00.001+09:00

Bat box, Hyde Park, Perth.

Collingwood supporter

2008-02-08T23:03:00.000+09:00

Looks like he's listening for worms.

Wishing you a hot new year

2008-01-04T21:59:00.001+09:00

Check the crepuscular rays on this one (although Hazel tells me they're not strictly crepuscular, as it's more the clouds than the rays that are streaming out*).

Still, it's amazing what one sees when one steps out onto one's front verandah toward the end of a hot new year's day.

*Divorce pending.

Not any more he aint.

2007-11-29T18:21:00.001+09:00

Plumber's crack

2007-11-07T22:16:00.001+09:00

Sadly, this is the last sample of rap graf from my sojourn in Lyon.

To all the Lyonnaise rappers I say, keep rappin, and tappin', and flappin' your jaws,
'cause on this hiphop lyrical blogspot you'll never, ever be asked to show reason or cause.

Ovine bovine

2007-11-06T22:04:00.000+09:00

I love how the imaginary footpath here merges with the real one.

I haven't a clue what it all means though.

I believe my baby's got a black cat bone.

2007-11-05T23:08:00.001+09:00

Enough said.

I don't know what they're doing but they laugh a lot behind the green wall.

2007-11-04T22:01:00.001+09:00

This one's a bit more out there, literally and figuratively.

It was just reward for climbing a million-and-one steps up the world's steepest hill to Lyon's Fourviere cathedral.

I like how the piece organically merges with the remaining bricks. All in all, it's just another brick in the wall.

Baraka gives you back your B-B-Bounce!

2007-11-04T09:06:00.001+09:00

Apologies to Berocca.

Quite a backdrop

2007-11-03T13:03:00.000+09:00

When in Lyon recently (makes it sound like I pop over there all the time, doesn't it?).

Anyway, when in Lyon recently, the local arrondissement where we stayed organised a "keep active" style cycle race for the locals.

Only trouble was, Lyon's quite a hilly place, and the organisers showed no mercy with route selection.

It was fun, however, cheering the appreciative cyclists on with a:

"C'mon! Pull yer finger out! I know what it's like!"

Let's push things forward.

2007-10-28T09:16:00.000+09:00

What I love about the small business owners of Lyon is they've embraced the humble rapper.

Rather than whinging to their local council about the graffiti problem, claiming it signals the end of civilization as we know it, the local business people take the artform on board to advertise their rustic wares.

In preference to the ugly blank shutters back home in Northbridge, I'd always choose this one a la rapper.

Perhaps if rapper could paint a wall, we'd never see a billboard at all.

Des Deux Places, Lyon

2007-10-27T16:49:00.001+08:00

As just foreshadowed, a big word up to the bouchons (low-brow meat restaurants) of Lyon, France.

As per tradition, this one is only open Tuesday to Friday.

Luckily for Haze and I - but unluckily for the legless frogs (sauteed in herb and garlic), fleshless veals (broiled to a flakey texture in a butter sauce) and juiceless grapes (stomped into a yummy house wine) in the general Lyon district - we strayed by on a Friday.

Reservations essential. Click on the door of the 2CV for contact deets.

Heavy, heavy, monster sound.

2007-10-27T09:44:00.000+08:00

For the next few days, good ol' Grump will be spotlightin' and soundcheckin' the graf art of South Central Lyon.

The rap graf you're about to witness is not in any of the tourist guides, but it's almost as good a reason as food to visit Lyon, the home of the bouchon*, the culinary capital of France.

*more on Bouchons later ... mmmmmm Bouchons.

Wotchoo tawkin' 'bout?

2007-10-26T15:16:00.001+08:00

And in Cannes, the red carpet is permanently rolled out for this special little fella.

What's 'is racquet, now?

2007-10-26T15:13:00.001+08:00

In Avignon, they don't mind this bloke either.

Flaznavour Flav'

2007-10-26T15:00:00.001+08:00

They love 'im in Lyon.

The Hunchforward of Notre Dame

2007-10-25T23:40:00.001+08:00

Belated apologies to anyone offended by this snap.

And who wouldn't be?

Gold member

2007-10-18T18:24:00.001+08:00

Howdy y'all.

I'm back, after six weeks lolling around France.

Anyway, here's a picture of BA Santamaria that I took in the Louvre.

Roundabout way

2007-08-19T13:33:00.000+08:00

So, this morning Hazel and I are driving around the streets of Perth, quite aimlessly as is our weekend wont, when I hang a left off Shepherd Road into a residential backwater of Burswood that I quite like.

"Where are we going?" Haze asks, as if there's ever any rhyme or reason to our meandering cross-town forays.

"I dunno," replies I, "but isn't it nice around here? Where would you like to go?"

"Oh, just home," Hazel wet-blankets.

"So you have some chores to do, hey?"

"Yes, chores."

So, back along the stop-start Canning Highway to the historic Port city we return, greet our spritely ginger puss at the front door, and shuffle into the hallway.

"See you later," Hazel says prizing the keys from my grip. "I'm off to Bezley's for an hour or so."

"But, I thought you were gonna do chores," I doth protesths.

"Oh, I thought that was your funny way of asking if I was gonna go out," Haze chuckles.

Enjoy your drive, Hazel.

Lacquer virgin. Hey!

2007-08-16T13:22:00.000+08:00

I'm at home, having a beret day with wifey today.

You know, just kickin' back, lettin' the days go by.

It's fantastic when one throws an outlandish sickie, to, say, lacquer a crappy old sideboard that's been clogging up the garage for some years, and the other wakes up with a sniffle and decides: "Hey Hazel! Why the hell don't I join you?"

Fantastic for the sniffler, probably not so much for the lacquee who'd had her day all mapped out, and can now sense a Lemsip haze of a hypochondriac hubby looming on the horizon.

Anyway, a coupla minutes ago, as Hazel was out back a-lacquerin', dripping brown goo all over my pristine garage floor, I shuffled out to pay her a visit. Out there, on a nearby block of land, a couple of vocal builders were erecting some kind of mausoleum on a block nearby.

Here's a verbatim report of their conversation:

"'e killed her and made it look like an accident."

"Eh?"

"'E KILLED 'ER AND MADE IT LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT!"

Hazel may not be back on the blogwaves for quite some time.

So very, Serevi, good.

2007-06-08T22:03:00.000+08:00

I'm off to see Australia flog Fiji in the rugby at Subiaco Oval tomorrow night.

Got a free ticket from the Australian Rugby Union on the proviso I'd dress up in my nation's proud yellow and make a wallaby of myself.

It's a shame Fiji's little master, the mighty Waisale Serevi, won't be playing.

I only ever saw him play live in 2003, in one of his last 15-a-side games, at a world cup fixture in Canberra - when he was past his peak and came on as a replacement near full-time.

As the twinkle-toed David Campese was to the 15-a-side game, Serevi, who still plays 7s , is to the abridged version. That, and so much more. Oh, so very much more. Oh, so very, very, much more.

Waisale Serevi - The proud prince of the Pacific's prickly playing paddocks.

Malingorer

2007-04-29T11:21:00.000+08:00

I'm desperately, though not diligently, trying to learn shorthand.

For the second time.

Not that I actually learned it the first time 'round, which is why I have to go through all the pain once again.

So let's see, that's shorthand (twice), French (twice), Spanish (twice) and Indonesian I've now attempted.

Their mangled phrases are piling up like train-wreck carriages in the cornfield of my mind.

Eightelweiss

2007-04-27T07:05:00.000+08:00

Man, if you can't remember the 'eighties, you weren't there.

Keep your eyes Peeled

2007-04-21T15:46:00.000+08:00

Hazel and I read in the local rag this morning that some archaelogist reckoned he'd found Western Australia's oldest building up at Mt Brown* down in the corrupt-councilled City of Cockburn.

The current title-holder for oldest building is Fremantle's Roundhouse. However, the groundbreaking archy reckons the 1830-built foundations of Thomas Peel's original cottage, located at Mt Brown (rather than destroyed beneath rubble at Woodman Point as everybody had thought up until now), beats it by a few months.

Anyway, this morning Haze and I decided to get all Leonard Nimoy and go in search of. Over hill, over dale, over chip 'n over dale, we haled at pace with nary a glimpse of said foundations.

Leaving me baulking at the explosive consequences of disobeying the pictured warning, Hazel's last resort was to disappear up the sandy path in search of Peel's cottage.

"I'll text you the deets once I've found the house, slacker," and, "What the hell's UXO anyway?" were her final words as she scrambled up the path and into the bush.

She may be gone for some time.

Darkside, Dockside

2007-04-15T09:44:00.000+08:00

Well, I went out to a local boozer with SuperFreo! last night to watch his beloved Dockers receive a velocoraptin' from arch-villains the West Coast Eagles.

There were lots of drunk people in this particular pub, because it's owned by Dockers Matthew Pavlich and Paul Hasleby, among others.

What I couldn't understand was the large number of stupid Seagulls (Eagles) supporters that had driven down from Mullaloo just so they could say they saw the Dockers receive a shellacking on a TV screen in the Pav's pub.

Well, my blonde-of-hair, cap-of-tooth, leather-of-skin ladies and gentlemen, I have news for you.

Good luck to you and your families.

Spare the rib, spoil the child.

2007-04-12T18:55:00.000+08:00

... and that tetchy mood lasted well into the evening.

Some short minutes ago, I had occasion to breeze through the kitchen, Coopers Pale Ale stubby in hand, exclaiming, "oooh, that looks like a healthy meal you're concocting there, Haze!"

"What are you talking about?!" my miffed wife rebuffed, slaving over her hot stove. "I always cook healthy, low fat meals."

"What about the pork?" I deadpanned.

"That's a lean cut!"

Only Hazel would describe spare-ribs as a "lean cut".

And I am going to bite you!

2007-04-12T18:52:00.000+08:00

Hazel woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning ...

Deadset

2007-04-11T20:19:00.000+08:00

Hazel's at it again, launching another raunchy blog from her blue collection.

This one surpasses all before it, and is set to rocket to the top of the pops.

So do yourself a favour and visit it.

Give it the best chance that you can.

2007-04-09T16:43:00.000+08:00

Nodulaid your land.

And I'm drinking

2007-04-04T19:12:00.000+08:00

I am not a computer geek.

Just a geek.

Which is why this new blogger systemyjibbit really gives me the Sanskrits.

Can't we just leave well-enough alone?

When will we be forced to uptake the next version of blogadyjibbit?

And will it again crap all over the preferences I've painstakingly preferred over the years, which I have neither the time nor inclination to rectify.

Blogger sux.

Long live Blogger.

He loved Big Blogger.

Zed's dead man, Zed's dead

2007-04-04T01:39:00.000+08:00

I've just made up my mind there's gonna be some big changes around here.

Really big changes.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I may be gone for some time.

2007-04-03T23:37:00.000+08:00

My, how I've missed my blog.

You see, loyal readers, I'm a closet Luddite and when Hazel and my computer carked it late last year I found it difficult coming to grips blogging from my work 'pooter.

But now I'm back. Back and slack as a half-arsed hack.

Upwardly mobile

2006-12-20T17:40:00.000+09:00

Yesterday was my last day at the salt mine until 2007.

I'm at home, groovin' out to Professor Longhair, watching the Pink imbroglio unfold on the telly, and gobbing my way through the Lions Christmas cake that was my annual bonus.

Still, I no complain. Since Christmas last year, I've worked my way up from slave to peasant. Who knows, if I play my cards right, by the end of next year I could be a serf.

Fuzzy logic

2006-12-05T23:29:00.000+09:00

The fuzz were out in full force, at Kalgoorlie's St Barbara's Festival on Sunday, to make sure SuperFreo! did not outstay his welcome.

A plaque to the plague

2006-12-03T22:32:00.001+09:00

SuperFreo! and I took a roadtrip out to Kalgoorlie this weekend to trawl for blog fodder.

Alas, the only fodder I found was the green of the Tammin bowls club, which was plagued - quite literally - by locusts.

2006-11-26T15:16:00.000+08:00

Land of the giants

Armadalin' Clementine

2006-11-18T19:45:00.000+08:00

After a humungous baked lunch out at step mother-in-law, Bezley's, this afternoon, Hazel and I skipped out to the annual highland gathering at Armadale - which sits at the foothills of the Darling Escarpment.

A bitta useless exposition there, I realise - if you know where the Darling scarp is, you probably know where Armadale is - but, I just wanted you to know I knew where Armadale is.

Because I do.

I was there this afternoon, for Pete's sake.

I snapped this picture of Nessie to prove it.

I saw a pig eating its own poo.

2006-11-16T19:51:00.000+08:00

I'm quite the environmental activist.

And sportsfan.

Hence, I'm at somewhat of a crossroads this weekend, what with Perth's very own Red Bull air race set to spiral and swerve over the River Swan.

Yeah, I realise the planes are likely to dump gigalitres of Avgas into the azure shallows that separate our shiny CBD from the swank south bank. And I'm certain dozens of decibel drones will have their eardrums perforated through the awful audibility of it all.

However, the race does promise to be the best thing to hit the Westralian stratosphere since a searing chunk of spacejunk crashed into Norseman in the late nineteenseventies.

Damn those magnificent men in their flying machines!

An end to the war. Grumpy no more.

2006-11-12T14:03:00.000+08:00

Behold, the calm before yesterday's Armistice Day march in Northam.

Bank on the Wales

2006-11-05T16:26:00.000+08:00

I was rather grumpy after last night's Wallabies V Wales game at Cardiff Arms Park - especially as I'm scheduled to be at the same venue in September '07 to witness a match between the same two sides to see which progresses to the semi finals of the world cup.

On what I saw of the 19-all draw, the Wallabies still have a long way to go if they want to match their world-beating feats of 1991 and 1999. I'm not talking here of the backs - who showed flashes of brilliance, especially when Matt Giteau and Stephen Larkham were on the field together. Chris Latham was brilliant at fullback - and the others will only get better once used to the new combinations.

The forwards, however, are still useless in the scrums and lineouts. That said, we do have some real size in the scrum now, and that's a good start. Also, if anyone knows how to develop a dominant forward pack, it's coach John Connolly.

If he can resist the impulse to reinstate George Gregan - who is cooling his heels back home in Randwick - as captain and halfback, the Wallabies will have half a chance come September.

In the jungle groove

2006-11-05T16:10:00.000+08:00

The neighbours are dills.

And bad bongo/conga players.

So bad that I'm gonna learn the bagpipes.

Until I do, I've got some James Brown on the amplifier, throwing off their rhythm.

The nobs could learn a thing or two from Browny's funky drummer.

Turds of a feather

2006-10-22T14:34:00.000+08:00

I will say this for Pounce! - she sure is a stupid-arsed cat.

On the decking out back, next to the fish pond, she just discovered a sloppy white arse-egg laid oh-too-recently by some blow-in bird or other. Gingerly checking the shimmering goo out with her schnoz, the feline's nostrils flared, then recoiled, sending her hindquarts on a merry backward dance into the pond.

She's licking said hindquarts dry now, looking up at me, somehow miffed, as if I'd been the fine feathered offender.

Pommie, Jimmy, Aussie! Oi oi Oi!

2006-10-21T21:18:00.000+08:00

This morning, Hazel took this pic of the local bank near regular contributor, K.'s, home town which lies in the Westralian wheatbelt.

Not too many Aboriginal blokes leading hakas in there, I suspect.

Lickspittle

2006-10-20T18:08:00.000+08:00

Last night, after slopping Pounce!'s dinner out of its sachel and into her bowl, I realised the damn fleabag wasn't gonna eat it.

So, Hazel style, I mashed the slimy rectangle into a mush with a fork, which seemed to do the trick. I then proceeded to put the fork into the dishwasher.

"How could you?!" Hazel screamed, scurrying over to fish the fork from the Meile. "That's had cat food on it!!"

This from a woman who lets the cat lick her dinner plate clean after every meal.

Too sheepish - baaaaaaaa humbug.

2006-10-19T20:06:00.000+08:00

Good on old Willie Mason for dissing the haka in the Rugby League test over the weekend.

Only the public of Australia would get so nosebleedish about sledging some evolving ritual which basically says, "we're gonna rape your date and eat your future". This from a country with no future at the ass-end of the earth.

And by an Australian Aborigine leading a blend of Pakeha and Samoans, with a token Maori second rower or two thrown in.

Hell, Maoris have only been in NZ for the past 1,000 years anyway - not that much longer than the Pakeha, geologically speaking.

And before we get all P.C., it pays to note the Maori began their pan-pacific imperialism 500 years before their Pakeha mates. I wonder how the poor mob overwhelmed by the Maori felt about the haka?

To me, the haka's a bit of pre-match entertainment. No more, no less.

Whistler's mother-in-law

2006-10-08T11:12:00.001+08:00

Hazel's step-mum, Bezley, took her grandkids to the Perth Show during the week. Never one for idleness, Bezley bought me and Haze a sample box of Whistler's chocolates.

Oh my gawd, Habibi!!!!!

Until this point in time, I did not know Whistler's existed, let alone how cheeky and chunky their chockies could be. Their giant choc-coated jelly babies were an instant hit with this erstwhile Dr Who fan.

The side of the sample box says Whistler's is the oldest confectioner in the whole of Western Australia. If acres were years, that'd make them bloody old chocolatiers. How is it I've only just heard of them?

I've got Hazel on the job now, seeing if Mr Whistler runs chocky tours of his Belmont Wonkorium.

Grumpy gardening

2006-10-08T11:12:00.000+08:00

Now, look. I'm not big on reading "how to" booklets, or on listening for that matter.

Consequently, things take a little while to sink in, and because I'm forgetful they rarely stay in all that long.

However, I've struck upon a couple of things that seem to work in the average Perth garden:

1. Water the lawn with the laundry water via a watering can. Sounds gross, I know, but over time it really gives the lawn a lift, saving money on, and the Swan River from, fertiliser. I've been trialling this method for a couple of years now and the naysayers who said, "nay, it'll lead to your lawn getting all matty and tangled," have so far been disproved. The laundry water method also has the advantage of saving our ever-diminishing chlorinated water stocks for the all-important task of distillation into beer. On top of that, I've heard the detergent acts as a wetting agent. And for damn good measure, the water seems to kill the little black beetles that used to eat my lawn - though maybe that's just because my laundry is especially manky.

2. If your fish pond is atrophying like mine has been all through summer, winter and spring, chuck in a couple of surface-floating lillies. They'll soon diminish the photosynthetic light available to that pesky algae, as well as oxygenating the water, which everyone knows is a good starting point for distilling your own home brew.

More gardening tips if I learn something new. But for now, you know the score. It's your blooming lot.

The unbearable lightness of sleeping

2006-10-08T01:06:00.000+08:00

Having outlasted my wife, the cat and SBS, I'm finally off to bed.

Could the last one out please turn off the lights?

Republicity

2006-10-08T00:29:00.000+08:00

Hazel and I went for a 550km drive today.

At one stage, when neither of us had spoken for 15 minutes or so, good ol' Haze asked me what I was thinking about.

"As a matter of fact," I replied, "I've been brooding over how the Commonwealth of Australia, despite my best whining, has not yet seen its way fit to sever ties with the mother country and become a republic."

"I never think about stuff like that," she said, "but I knew you were brooding about something."

About something indeed.

Nikki Webster's first lingerie shoot!!!

2006-09-25T23:35:00.000+08:00

I've just finished watching the Brownlow Medal presentation, which was interspersed with ads for some bloke's magazine which this month features Nikki Webster's first lingerie shoot.

I don't care how old she is now. That's just wrong.

Grumpy gross-out warning on the pile link

2006-09-16T22:43:00.000+08:00

I've got a touch of the Tinea - under the fourth toe on my left foot, if you must know.

I feel like a bit of a nong, not because I have an itchy toe, but because I didn't know the term 'athlete's foot' was a euphemism for said condition. Instead, I thought 'athlete's foot' was some tendon strain only suffered by hard-training athletes - somehow more noble than a toe-eating fungus.

Next they'll be telling me 'tennis elbow' is a fancy-pants term for haemorrhoids.

The grumpy bird catches a turd

2006-09-16T22:32:00.000+08:00

Hazel's kicking up her heels at her 20th anniversary school reunion with her friends The Burp and The Statesman. On account of me never going to my own school reunions, there was no way in WA I was gonna go to hers.

That's until, swanning out the door, she explained the reunion was in a pub and that Burp's other half, the Rooster, would have attended if he and I could have absconded to another bar and drunk beers.

I hope that by the time the 30th anniversary of her matriculation rolls around Hazel remembers this decade-long maxim: Reunion bad. Beers good.

Ghana, Ghanaian, Ghan

2006-09-09T17:26:00.000+08:00

Haze and I were enjoying a lovely meal at Ha Tien Vietnamese in Victoria Park last night with K and D, who were visiting from their adopted homeland of Ghana.

Because we hadn't seen K and D for some time, out of habit we started referring to ourselves by our blog names - that is until Hazel got a chill down her spine.

We wondered, was that fellow bloggist, Spud Mack, and the Little Red Headed Girl sitting at the table opposite?

Only time, and Spud, will tell.

Man or mouse?

2006-09-08T14:52:00.000+08:00

After falling into our foetid fish pond yesterday, no doubt in futile search of something scaley, Cattus Cattus lobbed a large mouse onto the doorstep this morning.

It was a damn large mouse. Either that, or a smallish marsupial. In either case, she was pretty chuffed with her efforts and was heartily rewarded with a handful of Scooby Snacks.

The only problem is, I don't particularly want to be the one who has to get rid of said mouse. Here's hoping old Cattus decides to eat it.

Turps about the house

2006-09-01T15:36:00.000+08:00

I'm kicking back, flicking between the daytime soaps, when who should appear on my screen than master of the bleeding obvious, Ian "Turps" Turpey, spruiking the latest life assurance product.

"Death happens often and can be unexpected," he says, all deadpan like.

Grumpy

2006-08-27T22:09:00.000+08:00

Translation: Why the third degree, Hazel?

Hazel

2006-08-27T22:05:00.000+08:00

Translation: Why always such a sour-puss, Grumpy?

Black(no)more

2006-08-13T17:52:00.000+08:00

How's this for a rainbow?

For about 10 minutes this morning it plunged into the ocean off City Beach.

Perhaps there's a 17th century Dutch gold carrier submerged out there somewhere.

And then I don't feel so bad

2006-08-05T16:46:00.000+08:00

Hazel's out, meaning I can throw my John Coltrane CDs on, mute the telly and watch the local footy - which for some reason is being played up in Broome today.

Mercurial Michael Gardiner and poor form Paul Medhurst have this week been busted down from the AFL to play for the Rooster's local team, Claremont. This is probably a sign of things to come - both playing in the Kimberley league I mean.

Although not as sultry as Broome, it's prematurely spinglike in Perth. Taking nature's hint, I drove down to Bunnings to get some decking oil, and some algae poison for the fish pond. I'll sit on both until it's really spring.

I love the smell of algae poison in the morning.

Ted's under the bed

2006-08-04T21:45:00.000+08:00

Ted Egan - the administrator the Territory had to have.

The Lebanon

2006-08-04T01:13:00.000+08:00

As luck would have it, I got talking yesterday to a couple of the protestors from the peace rally that turned nasty in the city last weekend.

They made some very interesting points about the conflict in Lebanon.

Only I wasn't listening.

T-shirt weather

2006-08-04T00:35:00.000+08:00

Everyone in the office was wearing T-shirts today. T-shirts, in squally old Perth, in mid winter.

Hazel reckons summer is gonna be hotter than Satan's sphincter after a bad Vindaloo.

This oughtta boost the ratings.

2006-07-23T21:12:00.000+08:00

As Ol' Moonface from next door once explained to her primary school colleagues while colonising our front verandah:

"Oh, that. That's Pounce. Pounce the cat."

Are you going to tell me something helpful? Or are you just going to go on and on???

2006-07-21T17:04:00.000+08:00

As Pope John Paul II would have said of my meeting with the Kokoda vet' this afternoon:

"It is as it was blogged."

Here's a motivational seminar. If you think you're better than them you are.

2006-07-21T15:09:00.000+08:00

I'm findin' myself just sitting home chillin',
like a couch potato watchin' All My Children
Instead of going out and looking in the want ads,
I'm telling myself I can't believe Brooke slept with Tad.
And that's bad.
That's detrimental
'cause I'm not maximising my potential.

With Young MC's sage motivation in mind, I'ma gonna get offa my sad-assed can, leave Hazel to her beads, her sycophantic cat and her Judge Judy, and make somethin' of myself.

I'll say g'day to old Digger Dan for you.

Hope I don't step on any unexploded ordinance while I'm over there.

There for a long time, not a good time

2006-07-21T15:03:00.000+08:00

In case you haven't picked it up, I'm a tad cranky.

You see, in 15 minutes I'm due to engage in a social transaction with a WWII veteran. With anyone under 75, and I do mean anyone, this transaction would take no more than 10 minutes.

But when you've stared down ol' Gerry, you aint in no hurry.

Hoarse Whisperer

2006-07-21T14:37:00.000+08:00

Not that ol' Haze bungs too many sickies. She's actually very diligent and her Friday off has been fully sanctioned by her boss, The Horse Whisperer.

The Horse Whisperer loves ol' Haze and would never be so banal as to ask her opinion on his home-made jewellery.

Sticking her neck out

2006-07-21T14:22:00.000+08:00

Both Hazel and I are home today, and it's a weekday!

While I'm home most Fridays, she normally bungs her sickies any other day but.

You see, we secretly loathe each other. She hates my wanton inactivity, and I her flagrant busyness.

Just then she asked me to comment on a necklace she's been busy making. What makes her think I'm interested in jewellery? It's not as if I've ever bought her any.

2CV

2006-07-16T21:39:00.000+08:00

Lloyd Cole, eat your heart out.

Goin' back to Kali

2006-07-15T23:04:00.000+08:00

If you've never been to Kalbarri, this is what it's all about.

Von Kneekirk reaction

2006-07-15T22:23:00.000+08:00

What a shame, with all the Whenwes that live in Perth, that tonight's Wallaby Test vs the republic wasn't telecast here live.

Hazelpeppermintberry

2006-07-15T22:08:00.000+08:00

Check out Hazel's new craft blog here, and see why I'm bald.

Sheep shape

2006-07-14T14:12:00.000+08:00

Federal Minister for Sheep, Peter McGauran, was in Perth earlier this week telling everyone how cool the live export trade is.

But let me tell you, there's a sheep ship in port at the moment and, from my vantage some kilometres away, it doesn't smell very cool.

Heaven's in the lounge room of my catty shack.

2006-07-14T14:03:00.000+08:00

I've got the day off, which is happy-time for old Pounce!y (AKA Violet Crumbleruff, AKA Furball).

Not only is it raining and she's inside, but she also gets morsels at regular intervals.

A far cry from last time it rained and she was trapped under the house with her arch nemesis Thuggable.

Male Eunich

2006-07-11T21:48:00.000+08:00

Given tomorrow's early start, just then I tried to guilt hazel into ironing me a shirt.

"Dream on!" she snorted, disappearing in the direction of bed.

Warm, horizontal, bed ...

Blogsody in Blue

2006-07-11T21:45:00.000+08:00

Gotta get up at five tomorrow morning and stumble into Perth for a deal I'm 30% sure will come off.

Gimme mid-morning, quick and profitable over the gruesome prospect of tomorrow anyday.

I know what I know

2006-07-11T21:11:00.000+08:00

I met my first Fulbright Scholar earlier this evening. Actually, I'd met the learned gent before but that was before he was a fancy pants Fulbrightest.

Anyway, I wish to relay just one regret of the chance encounter, viz. I failed to echo the immortal question of Paul Simon: "Weren't you the fella who was recently given the Fulbright?"

Still, there'll always be my memories of good ol' Julio down by the schoolyard to fall back on.

Ging Gang

2006-07-09T21:57:00.000+08:00

Ibi, you buy, we all buy an Ibi.

2006-07-09T19:12:00.000+08:00

This sunny winter morn, Hazel and I took a spin down to Rockingham.

We like Rockingham, with its Penguin Island, giant wheat silos and assorted poms.

Unfortunately, we always take the coastal route down through the Australian Marine Complex and past a dead gum tree upon whose wizened branches, a year or so ago, Hazel saw a scimitar of ibises a-perching.

At that time, she implored me to pull over so she could take a snap of the grimey gum grippers. Rather craftily, I told her we were running late and that she could snap them on the way back.

Of course, on driving back past the Henderson Motocross track then up to the dead Eucalyptus, there wasn't an ibis to be seen.

On the 58 occasions we've zoomed by since, we've failed to spy one, let alone the erstwhile scimitar, of ibises in the bloody tree.

Good ol' Haze misses nary an opportunity to remind me how I cost her her once-in-a-lifetime photograph. Her place in the sun. Her Pulitzer.

Which is why, on the way home from Rocko this morning, I was very relieved to see the manky sight above.

I don't like her chances

2006-07-09T17:54:00.000+08:00

What with a pane of glass and a moat in the way.

Google ads. Egads.

2006-07-08T23:07:00.000+08:00

Plastinated specimens! Plastinated specimens! Get your plastinated specimens at grumpyspecimens.com!

Over the top Australian Story

2006-07-03T21:22:00.001+08:00

Just doing a quick survey.

Is there anybody out there, anybody at all, that Hugh Lunn did not go to Junction Park Primary School with?

Gobbling all the snake guts he can see

2006-07-02T22:06:00.000+08:00

While in the WWII tunnels I was lucky enough to spy this subtle effigy of a plucky little kooka' smashing the life out of a hapless Jap serpent.

'til her daddy takes her T-Bird away

2006-07-02T21:41:00.000+08:00

This morning I ventured underground, into the bowels of Mosman Park, to witness for myself what life in a World War II army tunnel was like.

Penelope, Scott and Virgil send their regards.

Tiptoe through the tulips

2006-07-02T21:19:00.000+08:00

Last Sunday, this idyllic setting at Araluen was disrupted when I stepped off the path to let a tourist train go past.

"Eh!" yelled the well-yeared gentleman on the right.
"Eh!!"
"Eh!!! You with the camera!!!!"
"Eh!!!!! You were stepping on the tulips!!!!!!"

Hell hath no fury like a baby boomer ignored.

It's official

2006-06-17T17:30:00.000+08:00

Perth's coldest ever recorded minimum - minus 0.7 degrees Celsius - happened this morning.

BRRRRRR!

But it didn't stop intrepid Hazel nagging me out from under the dooner for a kayak to Seal Island, where one particularly blubberised seal managed to roll his gut into the chilly water and loll on the shoreline as we looked on.

Swings and roundabouts

2006-06-17T16:03:00.000+08:00

Women.

Can't live with 'em.

Can't find the Caramel Crowns.

West of western

2006-06-17T15:30:00.000+08:00

I'm watching East of Eden, waiting for the footy to come on.

It's a pretty good movie - James Dean and all that.

We're up to the part where ol' Jimmy D. has decided to make something of himself. Yeah, he's started working pretty hard to prove those pesky lettuces can be refrigerated. So hard in fact that one of the older farm hands has commented: "I've never seen anybody work so hard".

Is it just me, or can you sniff a nosedive lurking around the corner too?

And you know how pissed off he's gonna be.

2006-06-16T15:04:00.000+08:00

Yep. Those amazing human bodies were pretty well hung.

But all this hoo-ha from the promoters that their amazing exhibition is probably the last time you'll get to see inside a human body. Oh, paleeease.

I'm certain, that at this very moment, Hollywood is unthawing John Wayne for Amazing Celebrity Human Bodies.

Plastination

2006-06-16T14:27:00.000+08:00

I dragged my carcass into Perth yesterday to see that Amazing Human Body exhbition from China.

Yes, yes, I've heard the talk 'round town that the 17 whole male, and one whole female, bodies may well be former Falun Gong members.

But they're pretty well hung.

Well, it's expensive these days.

2006-06-10T20:45:00.000+08:00

Old Wilson next door asks the darndest questions.

Last year, when I was studying - and, might I add, working part-time - he kept asking: "so, everything right on the financial front?"

"Yeah, better than you, you penny-pinching pensioner," I'd reply.

Yesterday, as I started the new Subaru up, Wilson asked me if I had enough petrol.

Part A, Part B, Part-ay

2006-05-27T09:01:00.000+08:00

Hazel and I went to a party last night.

We don't get to too many parties these days. Mostly because I'm too fat.

But this was a goody, with a singer/guitarist who actually had some talent as opposed to the usual stoner who turns up with an acoustic axe to grind.

There was also a good jazzy/soul groovin' kinda band with a saxophonist that looked like James Valentine of Models and ABC radio fame.

Aside from the music, there were a few features about this party. One - as the proprietor is a press photographer there were lots of his fellow snappers about, photographing every head they had the pleasure to know. Two - fresh snaps of the evolving party kept popping up on a large projector - talk about instant gratification. And three, the back yard where the party took place was good on so many levels, quite literally.

First, there was the garage level where we tiptoed in with a line of candles snaking along the pavement to guide us. Second, there was a long verandah with a BBQ that sizzled German sausages all night. Then there was the wood-fired oven sunk a few metres below verandah level where an old Portuguese guy nobody seemed to know dligently prepared and roasted fine hand-made pizzas. Sheesh, the home even had its own wine press.

Yet to view the abode from the front, you'd never know all this jazz was going on. Which goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover, or every now and then it doesn't hurt to wake up and smell the pepperoni.

Lean cuisine

2006-05-25T23:40:00.000+08:00

I just polished off Hazel's Lindt Easter bunny and 20 slices of Polish salami.

My work here is done.

Good night.

The unique Greek with the sleek physique

2006-05-25T23:31:00.000+08:00

I see the Socceroos (otherwise known as Greece A) defeated Greece (otherwise known as Greece B) 1-nil in Melbourne earlier this evening.

I still think it's a stupid game.

Blue Wednesday

2006-05-25T21:28:00.001+08:00

Last night's state of origin game was a goody - except for the fact Queensland lost by a point.

I have this theory about Queensland - ever since Wally Lewis retired they've had a shite kicking game but have held the advantage when things get scrappy.

Unfortunately, when it came down to a field goal to break the 16-all deadlock, New south Wales were always in the box seat.

That said, New South Wales cheated.

Well ... Da!

2006-05-25T21:28:00.000+08:00

I've just been down at the University of Notre Dame (pronounced Noter Daym) in Fremantle, listening to an art historian debunk The Da Vinci Code.

Why is it that when a cop tells us Snake was seen exiting Westpac in a balaclava and brandishing a smoking sawnoff, and so is the chief suspect, we reply, "that's just circumstantial bullcrap".

But when a left-leaning art historian tells us Leonardo Da Vinci was more than likely gay because he never married, there was no evidence he had female friends, he was accused of sodomy twice, and left all his worldy posessions to a bloke, we say: "Oh, how true, how true"?

Minor incident

2006-05-22T21:50:00.000+08:00

Hazel and I took the new Subaru for a spin up to Gin Gin yesterday.

The excuse? The annual British motor rally up there.

We saw about 1000 British cars of every make and model - from Austin-Healys through 1930s Rolls Royces to the much maligned Leyland P76.

But everyone's sentimental favourite on the day was the collection of Morris Minors. This guy is giving his some moral support in the hope it will start.

One Potater, two potater, three potater, four.

2006-05-08T21:03:00.000+08:00

Just then, Haze and I got to thinkin' about all the fun-lovin' folk that have read our various blogs over the months, and one of the more fascinating ones in particular - that crazy old Spud Mack.

That's right, I've decided to spotlight Spud for his/her insightful comments since this blog started up. Just when you think Spud's expertise is limited to Medeaeval musings or to the Bunya nuts of Victoria Park, (s)he demonstrates an impeccable knowledge of, say, the history of rugby union.

Which got Hazel to accusing - "Heeey - yooou're not Spud Mack are you?"

To which I replied, "yes".

But I was lying.

Badly Drewn Mitchell

2006-05-04T21:51:00.000+08:00

Looks like Wallaby speedster, Drew Mitchell, is about to join the Western Force too.

I don't mind Mitchell - in attack. The poor kid can't tackle for quids, though. Still, that never hurt David Campese, Naas Botha, Jonah Lomu or Percy Montgomery.

It's good to see the Western Australian team is fulfilling its role of poaching all the nation's established players so that the other states can more effectively develop new ones.