Archive for the ‘uncategorized’ Category

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There’s a word for everything

December 13, 2011

Don’t you love it when you discover that there is a term for an oft-noticed but otherwise enigmatic phenomenon? And not only that, but there are academics studying it?

When I lived in the US, I was much perplexed by the way those Californians talked. The people on the telly do the same thing… combined with the rapid-fire deadpan delivery that’s all the rage these days, they growl. They drop the tone of their voices way down into their throats, killing all the brightness and life in their speech. Part of the deadpan act, I guess.

Thanks to boingboing.net, I now know it’s called vocal fry. Completely fascinating.

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Clouds in my coffee?

December 12, 2011

webcoffee

Me: There’s a uterus in my coffee.

He: That’s hysterical.

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Whistle restoration surgery

August 30, 2011

Oh, I’ll just pop into the dermatologist before work on a Tuesday, I thought. Just get this thing on my lip checked out. That lumpy thing that’s been there for a couple of months. That lumpy thing that won’t go away. The lumpy thing that STOLE MY WHISTLE.

For two months I haven’t been able to whistle properly. It ruined my embouchure. The dog roamed the park unbidden and I could do naught but hum while I worked.

Anyhoo, I thought I’ll get a balm, an ointment, a poultice from said dermatologist and be on my way. She took one look at it and said, “We’ll cut that out. It’s a cyst.*” What, now? Yes, now.

(Ultimately a good thing because it meant the pre-procedural dread was cut down from days to minutes.)

Inject, OW, numb, number, numbest, chip chop, sew up, mop up blood. Done! And now, surprise day at home because no one needs to see this swollen and brutalised lower lip.

I will observe my recovery keenly and report back on the whistle’s whereabouts. Come back to me!

*Miranda claims that ‘moist’ is Queen of Words, and ‘plinth’ is King of Words. I think ‘cyst’ must be the bastard half-prince.

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A women’s thing

October 21, 2010

I got suddenly, horribly, gastrointestinally sick yesterday. Got to work and had to turn straight around and go home again by taxi. My taxi driver, as well as having a magnificent, black and glossy mullet, was quite kind and understanding (so long as I didn’t hurl in his cab.)

“Did you eat something bad?” he asked, “or is it a women’s thing? I have a wife and two daughters and I know they suffer some pains.”

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Becoming one of THEM.

August 6, 2010

I met the Curmudgeon outside the Melbourne Art Fair last night and we prepared to step therein. “Hold on,” he said, fishing in his jacket pocket, “I’ll just get the tickets.” [rummage rummage] “Oh, THAT’S not them!” he exclaimed as he theatrically extracted an iPhone from the recesses of his attire, grinning fiendishly. 

See, we are not, or have not been thus far, iPhone owners. He thought about getting one and lost interest (or so I thought). I work with oodles of people who have them and whimper like lost kittens when they are more than a metre away from their precious appendage. So until now I’ve been an iPhone eye-roller and have had no idea to do with them when I’ve been instructed, on the odd occasion, to find a map or make a call on someone else’s.

But then, later that night, I was playing with the thing and became completely absorbed. It’s entrapment, I tell you. Like a hypnotist dangling a soporific watch.

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So much better than the original

July 11, 2010

Remember my rant about The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo? Well, I did enjoy the New Yorker parody. Yes I did.

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The Curmudgeon’s dream

June 4, 2010

“I was having a scary dream about Valdemort running around, doing all this evil stuff, but I’d worked out that it was a dream so I knew I could alter reality. So I turned him into a butt plug because it was the worst thing I could think to turn him into.”