1. I am still sick, which is crap because i have to be on a plane tomorrow - enter skull-shattering pressurisation in my sinuses for 8 hours.


These are not even helping

2. This upset me immensely.

3. Soccer brawls are slightly fun. (don't tell anyone i said that)

Lotus "little man" Alessi passed away yesterday morning.

He's buried under the olive tree on the balcony because i think he would've liked it there.

I'm not coping particularly well..

Vietnam is officially go.

Visa's approved Tuesday, tickets and whatnot already picked up. August 7th and i'm out for 3 weeks.



tôi dị ứng đối với những hạt, motherfuckers.

The same two damn words haunting me day and night...

Any time my mind is idle, the same damned refrain over and over again..


"Sha-ki-ra, Shakira..
Be-yon-ce, Beyonce.."


For two solid weeks now with no let up.

So i accidently tried to validate my copy of windows that i clearly knew was in no way legal and, surprise, surprise... It failed.



So for the past week, this annoying message appeared every time windows started up





along with this god-forsaken pop-up that appeared at random intervals, seemingly concerned that i "may" be a victim of software piracy.



No shit.

Enter one of the best and easiest programs i have come across for a long time: Unlocker. A nifty little freeware program that lets you delete, rename or move any files that are in use at the time by any program or process, allowing you to bypass any sharing violations or inbuilt security settings that windows may have, displaying a list of processes that currently have the file locked so you can tell if it's a good (or bad) idea to do so.

So all i had to do was rename WgaLogon.dll in C:\WINDOWS\system32 to whatever and no more nagware. Bit of a band-aid solution, but i'm happy.

I know it's decided UN-punk of me, but fuck the below irritates me no end..



Punk or no, there's no excuse for poor grammar. Do you dispense with apostrophes when you become punk? What is that?


(stupid girl's belt on smith street on the way home that set me off..)

1. I have a new(ish) house in Cwood that has a very pretty view from the balcony in the morning.

2. a) Said house has wireless internet

b) I have a new gmail email cause i cancelled primus.

c) I like being online again.

A skeleton walks into a bar and says "Get me a beer.. And a mop"

Post-mix coke + Mersyndol = the best headache cure in the world.

As is dowloading album covers for my brand new iPod.. Ah, it's been to long since me and my long departed friend were re-united in it's now 3rd incarnation. He looks kinda different, but i know it's still him deep down..

Kelly on the recent spate of celebrity deaths:

"man every aussie icon is dying this week. I hope tina arena is keeping safe..........."

Hysteria..

Nothing quite lifts the spirits like an unexpected phonecall.. Been grinning stupidly since Thursday.

12 months isn't such a long time is it??

I desperately need this book.

Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails : From the Alamagoozlum Cocktail to the Zombie

Here, historian, expert, and drink aficionado Dr. Cocktail has hand-picked 80 drinks rarely made today, and all of them deserve revival. Some are from the nineteenth century, some from the Prohibition era, and some from just after World War II, as the golden age of the cocktail was waning. All are retrieved from extremely uncommon sources. In fact, some of these drinks were found carefully penned into old cocktail manuals or on scraps of paper and may never have been published. They are true treasures, indeed.


Indeed.

Just got a new Talking Bratz doll sample in today and the similarities between it and the talking Malibu Stacey doll from the Lisa Lionheart episode are uncanny. Except scarily, the Bratz doll is for real.


Malibu Stacey: "My name is Stacy, but you can call me [wolf whistle]"

Bratz Doll: "My name's Chloe, but you can call me Angel. I never have a bad hair day"



I think Lisa said it best:

Lisa: It's not funny, Bart. Millions of girls will grow up thinking
that this is the right way to act -- that they can never be more
than vacuous ninnies whose only goal is to look pretty, land a
rich husband, and spend all day on the phone with their equally
vacuous friends talking about how damn terrific it is to look
pretty and have a rich husband!


I rest my case.

Although i feel i should use the term "vacuous ninny" more often than i currently do.

I think i'm in love with this sport.. Check out Eric "Badlands" Booker too..


"He has excited fans at recent events by performing selections from his rap album, Hungry & Focused, and he remains among the most popular eaters in America. His sophomore album, The Ingestion Engine, debuts December 1 on IFOCE.com"


His album, incidently, is described as "Competitive Eating Themed Hip Hop"


And if anyone's doing their Christmas shopping early, count me in for an Official International Federation of Competitive Eating stubby holder

Gold.

Move over Paris, i have a new idol...

Meet the The black widow of competitive eating

I'd forgotten how fucking awesome Peaches is. New album Impeach my bush was released yesterday. Cunt wait to grab me a copy.

Yuk, yuk, yuk

Had Teaches of Peaches pretty much on loop since i found out.

Too funny! Celebrity priest at Muscat's wedding on saturday - Father bob of speaking in tongues fame.. You've gotta love someone who gives hillsong shit in the middle of a service..



Love it..

Muscat's wedding on saturday, which i'm quite looking forward to. And i've actually bitten the bullet and decided to wear a frock, lord help me.. Hoping against hope that these bruises on my legs will fade in time. Damn soccer.

"Oh, this isn't a fancy dress party? And here's me coming dressed as a crack whore with bruises on my knees.. Who feels quite the fool now?"

Oh yeah, and finally moved in to my new place as of last week, but only just got the phone connected today, hence no inty-net action up until now..

So here are some photos of the pad that i took with my crappy camera phone for those of you too lazy to come and visit.

( take the grand tour )

Erk... Those dirty, dirty Italians struck again this morning. Not only did they knock out Australia in what was quite possibly one of the most traumatic moments of my life, but they also denied me my revenge by knocking out Ukraine in the quarter finals which wasn't quite as traumatic given that Ukraine played like a rabble (as they had for much of the tournament).
"Right!" i thought (clearly clutching at straws) - My grandmother on mum's side was German and i'm quite partial to sauerbraten, knoedels, sauerkraut and the like, so up i was at 4:30 this morning, proudly sporting my Deutche strip to try bite #2 of that sweet, sweet pie of vengeance. Not so. Denied yet again in the dying minutes of extra time by Fabio Grosso, the acadamy award winning thespian, who you may remember from such instructional videos as "Learning to dive: who says you need an ocean?", and then a Del Piero goal in the last few seconds just to rub salt into the wounds.

So onto the next bandwagon: Viva la France!

(my second cousin's French.. Does that count?)