Diversions

I hate all this terrorist business.
I used to love the days when you could look at an unattended bag on the train or bus and think "I'm fucking having that!"

Dont mention the War.

I loved you in Wall Street!

I think now, looking back, we did not fight our choices; we fought ourselves. The enemy was in us. This holiday is over for me now, but it will always be there, the rest of my days. As I'm sure Dunedin will be, fighting with Auckland for what some may call the "possession of my soul." There are times since, I've felt like a child, born of those two cities. But be that as it may, those of us who have had to move on have an obligation to build again. To learn from our previous experiences, and to try with what's left of our days to find a goodness and a meaning to this life.[1]

:)

It's been a great break, and more than a part of me would love to stay. Sunday, I head to my other life in Auckland, and by doing so, become the other half of myself.
John commented to me just yesterday that he never seen someone who lived so far away fit so well back into his Dunedin life. The truth is, my path has always been made all the easier by the lovely people I surround myself with. Such is life.


[1] Platoon - well mostly :)

Acceptance be damned

As I walked into our local mall today, I came across a mum walking out, with her young daughter in tow. The little girl was howling mercilessly as her mum walked calmly to their car.

I suspect by the time we leave school, we've almost been conditioned to accept how unfair the world is.

Every time I see a crying child who hasn't got their way I'm reminded that although we're not the center of our universe, we bloody well should be.

Damn right - it's so unfair!

Everything I learned was wrong.

If I was to cast my mind back less than three years ago, placing myself at a table with IG and Matt, the conversation would always invariably turn to cars. (Yeah, I know, thats where most guy conversations go to eventually - but in the case of IG and Matt the subject was almost afforded pornography status.)

Normally I can hold my own in most conversations, including car conversations; but compared to these two, my car knowledge is infantile.

"You know I really love the [insert car here]" said Matt.

"Yeah, thats a great car, and a really good buy right now. You really need the [insert specific model here] with the [insert lengthy specification] engine produced from [insert obscure data here]", IG would retort.

"Yes", Matt would say, in an almost James Bond way, raising his eyebrow and bourbon in appreciation.

I swear, it was like watching that TV program Mastermind, with a specialist subject in Car-ography - a wonder to behold, at least in a train spotter kind of way.

I was warned...

Thought their verbal jousting I came to learn that every car I ever liked (or brought) was really a pile of shit. Even my current car; a SW20 3SGTE Toyota MR2 with a 2 liter turbocharged engine was a poor choice; especially when IG went to great pains to inform me that CAR magazine led their front cover review of my Toyota with the subtext "How Toyota ruined the MR2".

Classic Beauty of the Karmann Ghia

Matt always wanted a Karmann Ghia, and Ian's latest car is a cool old Mercedes. I once wanted a 2.8 Injected Capri. So went those summer days all those years ago; they laughed at my uninformed lack lustre choices, and all was right with the world.

At least until this week.

I admit I've been worried about Matt since he started talking about family cars. I understand owning a family car is important - I understand you have to be practical about these sort of things - you really cant judge a person because of his "situation" [read: kids].

The chatter didn't stop though... it's as if the cars he once dreamed no longer have no meaning.
Just the other week Matt told me he was looking for an 1600 cc car for the family; his car would probably be a 1000 cc variety. There was no warning - I was waiting for a punch line that was never delivered.

He was SERIOUS.

I have to tell you I was concerned. I immediately rang IG and he confirmed my fears; I didn't know what to say - I still don't. It was then that IG admitted to me that he was looking to buy a Holden Commodore.

There's an interesting livery behind today's Commodore

It is finally the beginning of the end. There's no point of getting up tomorrow.

Case in point? I wouldn't buy a Commodore - because even I know how uncool that would be.

Artist impression of IG's new outfit.

No Pressure Folks!!!!

Please feel free to waste some time - PLEASE [*1]



[*1]The information presented and opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of absolutely100percent.blogspot.com and/or its partners.
The absolutely100percent.blogspot.com Web site contains links to third party Web sites. The linked sites are not under our control, and absolutely100percent.blogspot.com/ is not responsible for the content available on any other Web sites linked to this Web site. Such links do not imply our endorsement of any other Web site and LivinginItaly.com disclaims all liability with regard to your access of such linked Web sites. LivinginItaly.com is also not responsible for any loss or damage of any sort you may incur from dealing with any third party.
The information on this Web site is believed to be accurate however nothing written here should be taken as legal advice. absolutely100percent.blogspot.com disclaims all warranties with regard to information on this Web site including all implied warranties of satisfactory quality and fitness. Measurements are approximate and no responsibility is taken for any error, omission or misunderstanding in these particulars, which do not constitute an offer or contract.
In no event shall absolutely100percent.blogspot.com be liable for any special, indirect or consequential damages or any damages whatsoever resulting from loss of use, data or profits, whether in an action of contract, negligence or other tortious action, arising out of or in connection with the use or performance of any information on this Web site. No representation or warranty whatever is made or given either during negotiation, in particulars or elsewhere.

How to deal with Nihilists

Dipshit with a 9 toed woman - classic stuff from the Cohen brothers.

All uses of the f word dedicated to Writer Girl.

Shooter: entertainingly dreadful

They shot my dawg - prepare to die

. . . or dreadfully entertaining I'm not sure which; maybe an equal blend of the two. But I stayed until the bitter end which is relatively unusual for me. Sometimes I feel shortchanged when half the movie is in slo-mo, but I was more than happy staring at Mark Wahlberg's ridiculous musculature. I started laughing shortly before Marky Mark whispers: "I'm not your son," and didn't stop until long after the credits rolled up the screen. "They killed my dawg" - too funny! Awesome! [Review by Writer Girl -Ed]

Because one doesn't get a second chance at the first impression, my first choice of DVD had to be perfect. The question is ... was Shooter the perfect DVD one could present Writer Girl and the Dubai Kid with?

In fairness I was in a difficult position. It was far too early in the "relationship" to take the more challenging titles. David Cronenburg's "Crash", and James Spader's "Secretary" could wait another day for an unveiling, if indeed at all. I wonder what a film about car crash eroticism and S&M would say about me as a person? Far too much at this early stage one muses. The romantic comedies were just as bad, and for exactly the same reasons they stayed at home as well.

Can you go wrong with action movies? I thought to myself, as I headed out to their house. To deny the brilliance of Shooter or Serenity could be in itself a huge faux pas - what if, in a brilliant move, I was actually taking the piss. Could you really rip either to shreds, when in actuality, you'd make yourself look silly in the process; after all Top Gun was actually a succinct exploration of the gay subculture in America in the 80's right? Exactly.

I arrived to find Writer girl making guacamole on the breakfast counter. Making guacamole ! Holy cow - I thought that that stuff came in plastic containers from the supermarket. Suitable impressed, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't like avocado, but shit, she'll never know - It will be our little secret - right? And as for their sound system - all previous memories of watching movies with subtitles at Brew King's place (so we didn't wake the kids), were well and truly erased in a blast that blew my man breasts out my back.

So what was it going to be ? Serenity or Shooter? Would either choice be the correct move - and in doing so would they finally see the subtle nuances behind my choices. Hold on a minute - were there actually any? SHIT!!!!

I needn't have worried, I really enjoyed the night. Writer girl and the Dubai kid laughed at all the right places, telling me that (a distinct lack of swearing from Writer girl aside) they were indeed kindred spirits. Now all I have to do is work out if they were laughing with me, or at me.

With me - right?

Can't plan this.

When Marty and Leeane had their housewarming Tim brought a little gift along on the night. The gift was a count down timer connected to a very, very loud siren.
The plan was to activate the timer just before we left - the timer would start its countdown and activate the siren after two hours. The siren, placed in a cardboard box, was left in a spare room, easily spotted when the time came to stop the noise.
It was harmless fun - what could go wrong?

I actually forgot about the whole thing when I woke the next day, but Tim rang me giggling hysterically. This is what actually happened...

We left at 2:20am, so the siren went off at about 4:30am. The problem was that Marty was so hammered he didn't wake up first; his wife Leeane did. Thinking someone had activated the house security system she keyed in the 4 digit pin code, but by doing this, she actually activated the house security system. Sixty second later the house system triggered and it's siren went off as well. So now two sirens were blaring, and our 30 second prank had just woken all the neighbours.
Convinced that she had put in the wrong pin code for the alarm, Leeane started entering numbers from their previous house's alarm system. After 6 incorrect pin numbers the alarm locked on refusing to accept any more attempts.
At this stage Leeane ran down to the master bedroom and managed to shake an inebriated Marty to life. Of course we didn't realise Marty slept in the nude, but those who slept over that night got an eye-full as he bounded naked down the hall toward the security panel. Realising he was too drunk to follow the complex reprogramming sequence to reset the locked alarm, Marty ripped the security panel off the wall pulling out every cable he could find.
The internal house siren silenced (but not our one), Marty rushed toward the balcony to silence the outside siren. At the last minute Leeane yelled at him to put on her dressing gown, and all the neighbours watched in amusement as Marty stood on his balcony in his wifes favourite pink satin dressing gown, hitting the hell out of the external alarm box with a hammer. Eventually the siren could take no more and plummeted to the ground, one story below, screaming no longer.
It was then, and only then, that Marty heard the siren in the spare room. He opened the cardboard box, pulled off the battery wire, and finally there was silence.

Marty, God bless him, saw the funny side of it all afterward. He even admitted the whole incident broke the ice with all the surrounding neighbours. I'd love to take credit for it all, but I was only guilty by association. Tim retired from housewarming pranks that night; undefeated, at the top of his game - the best way to go.

Actually, come to think of it...I wonder if Tim still still has the answerphone messages made between 4:30 and 4:45am that night. I'm sure any statutes of limitations are long past. If they're about I'll link to them. Please forgive me, but the memory of those messages still make me smile.

Conchords

This is why us kiwi guys score heaps eh bro.



We have such a choice way with words, it hurts sometimes. Plus it's not really fair on the Aussies eh. Awesome!

The Real News

Must have been a slow news day - maybe nothing else of merit happened elsewhere in the world.



[from sideswipe]



For those who missed TV One's Close Up on Tuesday night, here is a brief account of the item, arguably the second most important event that happened in New Zealand in the previous 48 hours, from John Christiansen of Mt Albert: "Nicky Watson lost her chihuahua. Well, after numerous clips of Nicky nearly falling out of various dresses followed by clips of Nicky wandering around day and night with torch in hand calling out for her little lost pet, the interviewer finally sat down for a little heart-to-heart with Ms Watson. Recounting her tale of woe Nicky, voice strained with overuse and emotion, says, 'I must have called his name a million times', to which the interviewer kindly responds, trying to empathise: 'You're hoarse.' 'No', replies Nicky sadly, 'my dog'."

Confessional

In truth - there is much to write; to say.
An attempt to be direct is well overdue
But the thought of what demons may arise from such misadventure
might keep me awake at night
And frighten Miss Muffet away :)

Cynics beware

A month or so ago I attended a comprehensive First Aid course, and as a warm up to the course the nice lady instructor asked each of us in turn what TV shows we liked to watch. At the time I thought of House and Boston Legal. I've always admired David E Kelly's writing, and in Boston Legal he has done the seemingly impossible - taking Kirk away from Shatner and giving us Denny Crane in return.

Anyway, pleased with my "off the cuff" revelation (and not blurting out Americas Next Top Model instinctively), I was surprised that the instructor responded with "Oh - those shows are both so cynical". Those who know me would be shocked to learn that I was totally lost for words; devoid of any witty reply.

This whole episode has obviously left me emotionally scarred, as recently I made a list of the TV shows I love to watch when I have time. It turns out that at first glance, most do seem cynical and dark. There is however a constant theme of redemption running through most of the shows - which is probably the reason why I watch them. You have to love flawed characters with good intentions - especially when you don't tolerate them in real life :)

So - My Top 10 Shows (in no apparent order)

House
Dexter
Californication
Boston Legal
Battlestar Galactica
NCIS
Life on Mars
Outrageous Fortune
Americas Next Top Model - Tyra Mail!!!
Hells Kitchen

And while I'm still in my cynical space, feel free enjoy this clip that Gyro Stan sent me.
Cats can change - believe me - they just have to want to change :)

Warm fuzzies at someone elses expense

This makes my heart sing, , and funny sounds come out my mouth. I think it's laughter.

So love this.....HERE...

Even if it's bullshit - I'm linking to it from now on.

Smart TV

Not an oxymoron - this is funny on a number of levels.
I wonder if this is a real show - or some sort of pilot. Anyone know if it got picked up?

Warning: These clips are about 9 minutes each



Part 2

Part 3

Banana hamock horror

Meanwhile over a Green Street Girls blog, the unsavory subject of speedo's are being discussed....

I can tell you that unless one was a lifesaver, or competitive swimmer, the wearing of speedo's are actually a cultural faux pas in New Zealand. Board shorts are currently the swim wear de jour, and one can only hope the trend continues for ever!

However it appears that board shorts and boxers are not as fashionable in other parts of the world. It is a concern.

Case in point "The Todd" :)

Best laid plans

I saw this in the local paper today, and it made me smile.
I wanted a permanent copy - so I've taken the whole article from here.

Here’s an excellent example of pwnage: when the white supremacist group VNN Vanguard Nazi/KKK tried to host a hate rally in Knoxville, Tennessee, they were foiled by … clowns!

Unfortunately for [VNN] the 100th ARA (Anti Racist Action) clown block came and handed them their asses by making them appear like the asses they were.

Alex Linder the founder of VNN and the lead organizer of the rally kicked off events by rushing the clowns in a fit of rage, and was promptly arrested by 4 Knoxville police officers who dropped him to the ground when he resisted and dragged him off past the red shiny shoes of the clowns. http://www.volunteertv.com/home/headlines/7704982.html

“White Power!” the Nazi’s shouted, “White Flour?” the clowns yelled back running in circles throwing flour in the air and raising separate letters which spelt “White Flour”.

“White Power!” the Nazi’s angrily shouted once more, “White flowers?” the clowns cheers and threw white flowers in the air and danced about merrily.

“White Power!” the Nazi’s tried once again in a doomed and somewhat funny attempt to clarify their message, “ohhhhhh!” the clowns yelled “Tight Shower!” and held a solar shower in the air and all tried to crowd under to get clean as per the Klan’s directions.

At this point several of the Nazi’s and Klan members began clutching their hearts as if they were about to have a heart attack. Their beady eyes bulged, and the veins in their tiny narrow foreheads beat in rage. One last time they screamed “White Power!”

The clown women thought they finally understood what the Klan was trying to say. “Ohhhhh…” the women clowns said. “Now we understand…”, “WIFE POWER!” they lifted the letters up in the air, grabbed the nearest male clowns and lifted them in their arms and ran about merrily chanting “WIFE POWER! WIFE POWER! WIFE POWER!”

The Ultimate Bourne Ultimatum?

Ben Affleck Hoping Jason Bourne Has Sidekick In Next Movie

LOS ANGELES—Affleck envisioned the sidekick as being taller and slightly beefier the Bourne, and who would always look out for his best friend.