Gadget-holics Anonymous

Hello everyone, my name is T.P. and I'm a gadget-holic.

I really can't help it. It must be the inner geek in me, but I just find gadgets totally irresistible. Especially when I can justify that this particular gadget is good for me somehow.

Exercise aid gadgets would be the category I enjoy most. I've got a lovely little new iPod Nano with a Nike+ running system on it, and it makes my morning runs oh so much better.

The Nike+ running system is great, but its not accurate by any means. It's all based on averages and estimates. Great for running, but offers you absolutely nothing in the gym as soon as you step off the treadmill.

My all time favourite gadget would have to be a Polar heart rate monitor. I had a Polar M21 for years and years and it was my trustworthy training partner on every exercise I embarked on.

If I remember correctly it was one of the first - if not the first - Polar models made specifically for weight management and when I first bought it, it did make a major impact on my workout routine and the results really showed. I absolutely luveded it.

Unfortunately my baby broke early last year... I thought it had ran out of batteries, but a new set of batteries would not bring it back. Exercising just hasn't been the same since.

Yesterday, I finally replaced my baby with a perty bright red Polar F55 model.

I didn't see any reason for sticking with a weight management model, since it's not losing kilos I'm after, but improving my level of fitness. F55 is the best one out of the fitness models Polar offers, and therefore contains more goodies than the other models in the series. Much more sophisticated than my old simple M21, it'll take a while for me to learn all the features.

A fantastic aid in weight training, this baby stores a customisable workout program that even comes with a starting recommendation of repetitions and weights based on my gender, age, weight and height. How awesome is that?

I took it for a test run at the gym last night and I love it! On top of the body program, it's got everything that a fitness fanatic might wish for. I can strongly recommend this to any lil fitness bunny out there.

In fact the only thing I see worthy of bitching about is that its not Mac OS X compatible. Shame on you Polar! Shame on you for not keeping up with the times. Bring out OS X versions of the up-link and web-link software and redeem yourself!

Apart from the lack of compatible software I am very impressed with my new training buddy, and I dare say it will be much more cost effective than hiring a personal trainer. Besides, its red. All things red are good. Oh, and also, Polar is a Finnish company. That's always a bonus.

I do love my gadgets.

The Ultimate Come-Fuck-Me Boots[tm]

It was meant to be bunnies!

I saw the PERFECT pair of boots last year, but they didn't have my size left... in any of the stores country wide! I cried over them for two months. And I cried blood. For I have tried to find The Ultimate Come-Fuck-Me Boots[tm] for years.

Today, we were doing our weekly shopping with Deviant when I accidentally strayed into a Wittner store. And there they were! The same wonder boots that had been out of my reach a year ago were now screaming for me to own them!

They had only one pair in my size left, and that pair now securely rests in a beautiful shoebox in my collections.

Bunnies, these boots are PERFECT. Black leather, totally seamless apart from the sexy zipper running up the back of the calf. The sexiest sky high thin stiletto heel and the perfect rounded toe. Flawless!

I was just going to get them on lay by and fetch them next month, but Deviant wouldn't let me walk out of the store without them.

So very hot. So very perfect. So very mine-mine-MINE! Muahahahahahaha!

Damage control = success

How to get out of the dog box after fucking up Valentine's Day?

• A good start is cleaning up the entire house before the mistreated party gets home from work.

• Flowers on the table - even if they are obviously stolen from nearby - add a nice touch.

• A dinner out fully dolled up in a glorified romantic restaurant (read: v. expensive) containing an oyster entree, incredibly delicious meal, nice wine and yummy dessert drinkies.

• The best night in the sack post dinner.

• Taking the post-coitally glowing missy shopping the following day.

Deviant can be such a male sometimes, but he does do very well when he puts his mind to it. Damage control successfully completed and all is well again in the world of shoeboxes.

The angst of circled dates

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Shoes

Cut Copy 'In Ghost Colours' preview gig

We were supposed to go and see The Golden Compass at Moonlight Cinema last night, but I wasn't too keen since its been pissing down non-stop again. While I'm really looking forward to seeing the movie, fuck freezing outdoors sitting in the rain!

Luckily work came to rescue. I got invited to go and see Cut Copy doing a preview gig to promote their new album In Ghost Colours. Very cool indeed.

Apart from queuing in, everything was great. It was an intimate lil venue, with all the cool cats from advertising, journalism and record company front present - all stacked at the bar of course.

It was quite funny actually: everyone looked the same. Apart from the obvious kiddies who had won entry through a competition of some sort, everyone present had that hard boiled professional alcoholic look about them. Too cool for school and not quite drunk enough yet to enjoy the company.

We just stayed upstairs on the balcony observing people and once the gig began, we had the best spots in house.

Booze was plenty, I got to wear heels and stay dry indoors, music was great, and the performance itself very inspiring. Couldn't have been better really.

Got a lot of visual ideas for work purposes and now I can't wait for the album to come out.

Cut Copy - Lights and Music

Back on the horse - in more ways than one

Such a good girl I am. I *finally* dragged my arse back to the gym last night.

It's been way too long since I stopped going and it felt so good being back. Mind you, I could have thought about my approach just a lil bit further. Just like getting back to running by rushing on a quarter of a marathon, I decided to give the cycle classes a go.

There was a few points in the program where my heart rate got so high that I nearly hurled. BUT I did survive the class, even if I had to take it a bit easier at some stages. Felt fantastic as soon as I got home tho.

***

On another front, looks like my sneaky artist friend has finally found a way to force me back into creating work. He's been giving me these insane lectures every time I see him - telling me that I have got to keep doing stuff and get back to my art practice.

I've been able to escape it so far, but now he emailed me informing that he's reserved a screen for me in a 13 screen exhibition he's curating. How could I say no to that?

Well, I'm actually super excited about this and have some new ideas racing in the back of my head already.

I think this will be good.

Will keep you posted bunnies.

***

And last but not least, here's a few piccies from Miss Pearl's wedding. Don't have a good shot of the happy couple yet, but will surely post one as soon as I get my hands on one.

Mondays are a crime

I had an absolutely fantastic weekend... which of course leads to a Monday morning that feels like death reheated.

Miss Pearl got married to her Hero in Forster on Saturday. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride absolutely stunning and the booze aplenty - in other words all was good. Apart from the way too much traveling and not enough sleep that is.

On the way back to Sydney, we stopped at Seal Rocks for a swim. The place was gorgeous and I fell in love with it straight away! Now we are planning to head there for a weekend soon for fishing and tit grilling purposes. The spot is perfect: the cabins are right next to a gorgeous beach - which will of course entertain us chickies - and the men only have a short walk to the fishing spots.

While we were exploring the area, we found this gorgeous empty beach nearby. There was no one there, it was endless and the weather was absolutely perfect - so it was practically forcing us to do a nudie walk along it. Which was hilarious.

While it was the first time I have walked a beach in my birth suit, the whole nudity thing is no biggie for a Scandi - you know, due to sauna and shit. But for Deviant it was a first time and a whole new experience. Heh. He was just walking along with this huge grin on his face and kept repeating how liberating it felt. So very adorable!

...I'm just waiting for him to wake up now and start whinging about having sunburns where one most definitely should not have any.

Communication

Why is it that sometimes communication just seems so very difficult?

I feel like I've been given red and green light bulbs to communicate an intricate message to a paranoid and volatile colour blind audience.

The message in my head has nothing to do with the jargon that somehow escapes my mouth when I open it. The jargon has nothing to do with the garble the other person hears. And to make matters worse, the heard garble is translated into the worst possible scenarios in the brain of the receiver.

Sending:

Message
|
Jargon
|
Garble
|
Worst case scenario

Receiving:

Worst case scenario
|
Aggravated Jargon
|
Hostile Garble
|
IMPENDING DOOM

Naturally the distortion pattern accelerates exponentially as the number of communication attempts increases.

I'm gonna sing the doom song now.

The difference between men and women

An anonymous comment made me think about the difference between men and women when it comes to shoes. While I'm a total shoe fanatic, I don't think I'd feel comfortable with a man who had a collection to match mine.

In my little world men are only allowed the luxury of shoe fetishism one way: drooling at high heels on female feet. You Tarzan - me Jane. Full fucken stop*.

None of this metro shit for me, thank you very much.

I reckon men need healthy blokey addictions like fishing gear, beer or porn... and of course shit hot sky high stilettos on female feet. Especially now that its been proven beneficial.

(* Of course, gay men are a delightful exception to the rule and make the best shopping company.)

Inspiring right now...

The Presets - My People

Cut Copy - Lights & Music

Today I feel like a lazy old cunt

I'm the worst slacker out there.

I haven't been running in the mornings, which I suppose is sorta understandable considering that torrential downpours have been more of a rule than an exception for the last couple of weeks.

While the running may well be tied to the weather, that doesn't give me a reason to skip the gym tho. It shits me to no end, that I'm paying for a gym membership and not using it. How stupid is that?

I signed up for a membership with Deviant quite a few months ago, but haven't really used it that much lately. When he fucked his back up and had to stop going to the gym, I stopped going as well. So slack.

Now I've even got brand new runners and gear, and I'm still not going. The problem is that I could really use the extra energy provided by an active exercise routine.

I think I'm going to make it my mission to attend a class either tomorrow or Friday morning. Need to check out the timetable.

I hate wasting money I could be buying shoes with.

Shopping list

You know what bunnies? I'm starting to think that when ever I buy shoes, I should buy at least two pairs of the same!

Every time I find a pair I *really* like - you know those shit hot every day shoes you find every now and then - I wear them out in less than a year and never find a replacement pair.

My gorgeous black rmk stiletto pumps are a perfect example. They go with everything, look shit hot and are even remotely comfortable to wear. I've been fearing that the left heel is about to give in and today I felt it start wobbling while walking. My favourite pair is on its way out the door.

[Insert here immense sorrow and sobbing]

To my surprise and joy, I found rmk still advertised the shoes on their website, so I might have a slight chance of getting a replacement pair after all.

If I'm able to find a store that still stocks these beauties, I'm ordering a pair in each colour and the black ones in double!


I also really liked the look of these shoes and think I'll have to add a pair (or two?) of them on the shopping list too...

I just KNEW there was a justification for all the pain!

Great news bunnies! Look what I just stumbled into during my morning blog roll:

HEELS BOOST SEX LIFE

STILETTOS can be good for a woman's sex life, says a study which claims wearing them ``directly works the pleasure muscles linked to orgasm''.

Experts found the high heels toned women’s legs and strengthened pelvic muscles.

In tests, Dr Maria Cerruto, of the University of Verona, Italy, discovered that wearing a pair of ‘‘moderately high heeled shoes’’ had beneficial effects for a woman’s sex life.

‘‘Heels work the pelvic muscles and reduce the need to exercise them.

‘‘Wearing heels during daily activity may reduce the need for the pelvic floor exercises necessary to keep that part of a woman’s anatomy toned and elastic,’’ Cerruto said.

She asked 66 women under 50 about their sex lives, exercise regime and shoes.

In tests, their pelvic muscles were more relaxed in higher heels, increasing their strength and ability to contract.

‘‘Women often have difficulty in carrying out the right exercises for the pelvic zone and wearing heels could prove to be the solution,’’ Cerruto said.

Manolo Blahnik, whose shoes are worn by Sex and the City’s Carrie Bradshaw, said: ‘‘This is wonderful news. I’ve been hounded for years about how bad it is for posture, but . . . when you put on a high heel it makes life more exciting. For women, it’s a way to appeal to the male species.

‘‘There’s a limit. Anything over 11.5cm, you can’t walk properly; it’s no longer elegant.’

[via]

Weird weekend

Its been a weird weekend and unfortunately not such a recharging one.

Apart from Miss Pearl's hennies, we spent the majority of the weekend on an attempt to get through a whole season of a certain TV-series.

I need to come up with a concept for a campaign for the series, and since I don't have a telly - and refuse to get one - work bought me the DVD box set to go through before Monday morning.

I thought it wouldn't really be any different from watching a movie or two over the w/e, but to be perfectly honest, I feel like I haven't had any time off at all.

Even tho the series is not too painful - once you get past the atrocious acting - and the storyline is actually quite interesting, my brain is still in work mode while watching it. Instead of relaxing and clearing my head, I've been thinking about concepts and copy and visuals for the entire weekend.

Now I feel like I'm over Monday already, and I haven't even reached the office yet!

Not good.

***

On a brighter note, here's a couple of shots from Miss Pearl's hennies:

I see bubbly coctails and giggly chicks

Tonight is Miss Pearl's hens night. The invitation mentions cheese and bickies on her balcony, followed by dinner, cocktails and dancing.

Cheese and bickies? Excuse me?

I mean, this is Miss Pearl we're talking about. What the fuck happened to donkey shows? Or at least pointing and laughing at cheap and dodgy strippers?

Bunnies, if my sanity ever fails me for long enough to end up in a situation where I'd be planning to tie the knot with some poor bastard, I'd be fucken expecting at least a hobo death match, doing lines off a donkey's stomach (strippers are so last year), a threesome with Diggnation and waking up on another continent with no recollection of leaving the country in the first place.

Fuck cheese and bickies.

Well, at least the dress code is 'frock, high heels and big hair' which provides me with the perfect opportunity to take my new heels out for the first time...

Naisista suomeksi Rosan toimesta

Oi, Rosa kirjoittaa kengista/naiseudesta:

'Ne ovat juuri sellaiset, kuin korkokengät parhaimmillaan ovat: liian pienet, liian korkeat.

Alkuillasta kengät saattavat olla hieman kivuliaat, mutta kaikeksi onneksi jaloista hiljalleen häviää tunto.'

On nautinnollista löytää uudet kengät ja ilahtua siitä, että jotain näin puhdasmuotoista on joku keksinyt ja tehnyt: että juuri tämä väri, juuri tämä muoto, juuri tämä materiaali. On nautinnollista katsoa niitä ja olla tietoinen muiden katseesta. On nautinnollista tietää osaavansa kävellä niillä kauniisti.

Kenkien lisäksi pidän kosmetiikasta. ... Minusta naiseus kuitenkin asuu purkissa. Ei se ainakaan asu tiskirätissä, imurissa, huonossa palkassa ja vaipoissa.

On helppoa olla nainen, jos voi pitää käsiään kohotettuna ja sanoa, ettei voi laittaa pyykkejä narulle, koska kynsilakan pitää saada kuivua.'

- Rosa

Analog blogging

I think I've discovered analog blogging.

There is this wall at work. My boss came up with the idea that we need inspirational wall space where everyone can put up what ever they find interesting.

Well, the first few pictures appeared sticky taped on the wall and it looked horrid. So I had to print a few nice images to perty it up. Then a few more. And just a few more.

Suddenly the wall began looking kinda cool and organic. And now I'm unable to stop adding to it.

My morning blogroll is something over a hundred feeds, and it leads me running into quite a few interesting images daily. Now, instead of blogging them on lbts, I'm printing them out and sticking them on the wall in the office. I've nearly filled it too. Soon begins layering.

I find it quite therapeutic to be honest. And inspiring.

Who would have thought that it really could work as a source of inspiration?

Wanker warning?

Ok bunnies, help me out here. I just can't get my head around this shit.

Why is it, that if you buy a very nice sporty car, you need to choose the ugliest fucking colour available that just screams out loud: 'TINY PRICK'?

If you buy a fucken Lamborghini, why does it have to be bright canary yellow? And just then, I saw a bloody neon orange Audi TT drive by my place. I mean, WTF?!? Audi TT is a beautiful car... why the fuck would you go and ruin it with a colour like that?

Could it be that the demographic buying these cars just happen to be the infamous dickless wonders out there?

Maybe the bright colours are a wanker warning to be interpreted as: 'Warning: Lacking cock and style'. I suppose it sorta make sense - like venomous snakes/bugs/fish are often really brightly coloured in nature to warn anyone to go too near.

At least its a clear 'stay the fuck away' sign for me.

Such a good girl!

It was such a beautiful sunny day outside that waking up sans hangover inspired me to go for a run.

Instead of running the usual 5k lap that I've been doing in the mornings (tho not for the past couple of months - bad girl!) I thought I'd run to the Opera House.

Its a really nice lap and I used to do it all the time early last year. Its a bit longer trip than what I've been running lately, but I figured that additional 3k wouldn't be that bad, right?

Well, of course I was being an idiot and forgot the fact that we've moved 2ks further away from he Opera House. Which therefore contributed an additional 4k extension on the trip.

See 12k is quite the different story than 5k. I definitely felt the difference and thought a few times that I was either going to die or at least hurl my guts out.

Had to walk a bit after every hill or a flight of stairs so Nike+ only showed a little under 11k as the trip length. But I survived it. Now I really should be stretching big time.

Maybe I'll try to do that more often from now on... It should be a little bit easier next time. Right?

The Queen of Scrabble

I was supposed to have a laid back day at home doing girly shit and reading a book. Of course that wasn't going to happen.

All it took was a txt from Miss K to lure me back on my bad ways. So off I was, with a bottle of rather lovely Sav Blanc heading over to Miss K's BBQ that was to be held at Rose Terrace.

Its such a luxury to have the majority of my friends living in the surrounding neighborhoods. I hate public transport and much prefer walking everywhere. When I'm not being chauffeured by my wonderful man that is.

We ended up spending the day sitting outdoors, sipping wine and playing Scrabble and Pictionary. Miss K and I were paired up for Pictionary which was very enjoyable as we were perfectly tuned into each other's wavelength. I think the others were getting suspicious that we were somehow cheating, but it was all just pure and simple arse kicking wicked witty female power. Yeah.

But I have to say I preferred Scrabble to Pictionary. I can't even begin to tell you bunnies, how great it feels to totally kick native speaking arses time after time in Scrabble. At the end of the night I was declared the Queen of Scrabble.

I'd rather be a princess tho. Can I?

Lapland heritage

I just received this anecdote via email from my auntie. I thought it was somewhat enlightening to what having a Lapland background means...

An old man from Lapland was forced to go and see a dental surgeon in Helsinki. The doctor examined him only to realise that the state of the poor man's teeth was not good and said:

- 'Unfortunately what you have is a very serious case of dental rot and it is impossible for me to use anesthetic in this case. How well are you able to deal with pain?'

The old man gave this a good thought and replied:

- 'Oh yeah, I've been hurt before. At least twice in fact! First time was when I went to the bush to take a dumb and had one of those darn bear traps slam shut on my balls... and the second time after I started off running and ran out of chain...'

Australia Day

Now how did that happen again?

I only went to the city to do a quick errand run for more hair products, yet I found myself sitting on the steps of the Opera House at midnight... must have hit a time warp somewhere along the way.

I thought it would be nice to catch up with Buttman and his lovely missus before they return back to the cold northern wonderland. They were sitting at the 'bat park' - which I assume meant the Royal Botanical Gardens - and we agreed to 'catch up over coffee'.

I always thought that Buttman's missus was somewhat timid, but she was the first one to suggest scrapping caffeine for alcohol and demanded vodka shots. I stand corrected: she is awesome.

So there we went, at lunch time, squeezing ourselves into one of the pubs at The Rocks - might have been called Über Bar? - and lined up for a round of shots. And drinks. And more shots. And more drinks. And it was great.

Buttman's missus wanted to taste something new, so I started chatting up the bartender asking if he could recommend something very Australian for her. He gave me a somewhat annoyed look and said - with a very strong German accent I might add - 'You're at a Bavarian Pub. I don't think so.' Heh.

We giggled at the patriotic Aussies singing all their national anthems from the real one to Waltzing Mathilda and Land Down Under and stumble around drunk as all hell.

After the noise in the pub got unbearable, we continued onwards to Opera Bar and sat there watching the sun go down and fireworks go off while suckling on a yet another glass of white.

Had a great night, even tho it felt a bit rough getting up this morning.

'I'm going to prove the impossible really exists'

Not only one, but the goddess ticked off most of my favourites!

She was the perfect little quirky Scandinavian pixie and I need to have her babies. An evil army of weird tiny little Björklings, thank you.

The gig was truly amazing and worthy of its incredible settings - certainly one of those once in a lifetime experiences.

The stage had been set opposite the Opera House, so that the audience sat on the steps facing her, and she could enjoy her own laser light show lighting up the edifice of the Sydney Opera House.

The gig highlights for me were the enchantingly beautiful Unravel, incredible Bachelorette, super powerful Army of me and of course the fireworks encore Declare Independence.

The encore was actually quite funny. The audience was going absolutely apeshit to get her back on stage, and was totally losing the plot when she finally did.

Then she goes 'This song is dedicated to Australia's indigenous people...' and then starts bellowing 'DECLARE INDEPENDENCE! DON'T LET THEM DO THAT TO YOU!'

...which of course in this case meant referring to 99% of the audience as 'them'. The applause died - par a few who were just too off their tits to even notice - and you could just see everyone going 'Hang on... WTF?'

But after a while they got over it and went on enjoying what proved out to be the most energetic and powerful song of the whole gig. Gave me a good giggle tho.

This gig has to divide the first place with last year's NIN Year Zero gig in Sydney.

I wonder if the little Björklings would go well with the mini-Trents I need to have as well?

• Oompah, death metal and that voice: perfect - smh
• Icelandic space pixie alights on butterfly wings - smh

Looks like Mr. Brokeback did a Marilyn

Heath Ledger found dead naked in bed and surrounded by sleeping pills. What a shame really. I kinda liked him and was looking forward to meeting his version of Joker.

This whaling business

I reckon all these hippies and greenies and gawd knows what are taking the wrong approach to this whaling business.

Instead of bombing the whaling ships with random greenies, I reckon the rest of the world should just start harpooning Japanese tourist buses.

That'd get their attention don't you think? Raise awarness? For sure. Be entertaining? You can bet your saucy lil arse on it!

Where are the Chasers when you need them???

Icelandic goddess down under

Please, please, please, PLEASE let it be sunny tomorrow!

The day when I finally see Björk on stage is about to arrive and if there is one thing I'm hoping, its for the weather to be good.

Ever since I was 15 I have worshiped the ground she walks on and waited for the day when I shall finally see her perform live. From her albums, the latest is not my favourite, but it doesn't change the fact that she's truly divine.

Her lyrics are amazing and so close to this little Scandinavian heart of mine. Amongst my favourite lines would have to be:

'I tried to organise freedom
how Scandinavian of me!'

from Hunter

'I'm a tree that grows hearts
One for each that you take
You're the intruder's hand
I'm the branch that you break'

from Bachelorette

'He slides inside
Half awake half asleep
We faint back
Into sleephood
When I wake up
The second time in his arms : gorgeousness!
He's still inside me!'

from Cocoon

'While you are away
My heart comes undone
Slowly unravels
In a ball of yarn
The devil collects it
With a grin
Our love
In a ball of yarn
He'll never return it
So when you come back
We'll have to make new love'

from Unravel

'His wicked sense of humour
suggests exciting sex'

from Venus as a Boy

'You know - that I adore you
You know - that I love you
So don't make me say it
It would burst the bubble
Break the charm'

from Come to me

Now if I hear even one of the above tomorrow I'll be ecstatic.

--update:

For you non-Sydneysider bunnies: what I'm ranting on about is, of course, the gig Bjork is doing at the steps of the Opera House for the Sydney Festival.

Warning: highly superficial whinge ahead

It never fails to amaze me how fucken difficult it seems to be to come up with a good quality nail polish. I mean, its not fucken brain surgery is it?

I've been through every bloody brand out there, from professional to cheap shit, and all I ever seem to find is new disappointments.

If you find a good selection of colours, you can be sure that the consistency makes application impossible, and you'll end up looking like you paid an orphan missing both hands and a right foot to perform your manicure.

Then again if you find something that's relatively painless to use, you can be sure that it'll chip off by evening tea.

And if ever you are lucky enough to find something that looks decent enough at least in candle light and doesn't cause you to have kittens during application, you'll find it dried unusable before the next time you open the bottle.

Yes. Bad nail polishes are the nail rot of the beauty industry, and an eternal source of anguish to a slinky heel addict such as myself.

In fact, I - and I consider myself somewhat of a professional here with my three years of formal training in the field of beauty combined with countless years of being an intolerably vain cunt - have only found three nail polishes worth my time so far.

Ready for it ladies? Here comes:

To create those perfect porn red toenails to top off the seamed black fishnet veiled legs, the only option is

Revlon:
680 Revlon Red
The definition of the Real Classic Vamp Red[tm].
Easy to apply evenly, dries quickly and lasts well even on toenails.



For - and I quote Deviant here for the definition - 'the perfect pussy pink' toenails go for

Max Factor Nailfinity:
830 Dusky Rose
A new addition to my favourites. Dries almost instantly, super easy to apply and lasts incredibly well. On my first bottle tho, so can't say how well it keeps in use.



And last but not least the perfect everyday coat for a neat manicure is

Maybelline Wet Shine:
30 I-Scream Ivory
Thanks to Miss Pearl for pointing me to this little bottle of perfection. Painless to use, and just one coat looks so very natural yet classy. The only downside is it'll thicken up by the time you reach half empty.

There. I don't want to count how many fucken dollars I've spent to come up with that short list, but fuck me I'm sticking with it!

--

Note to self: After finding a product that works and managing to apply it in a decent manner, don't fucken type a blog post whilst waiting for your nails to dry. The keyboard will always, ALWAYS fuck up at least a nail or two. Never learn do you? Fucken daft old cow.

Yet another Monday morning

Grah. Feel like shit.

There are mornings when I am certain that time itself is against me. A cunning enemy who's working solely to wipe me out of existence, one Monday at a time.

I mean come on! Somebody needs to at least add an extra four hour time block between Monday 12:00am and 6:00am. No?

How about two hours? I'll settle for two hours and a soy latte? ...still no?

*sigh*

Cunts. The lot of em.

A column I stumbled on whilst going through today's blogroll...

'Hedonism 101 - men, be tactful, consider placement'

Funniest shit I've read all day!

Luscious new Zoe Wittner heels

Well, we left the house to do grocery shopping. Three hours later I get home with these:

These Zoe Wittner heels define hot black stiletto heels. The shape is nothing short of perfect and somehow they make legs looks super long even beyond the aid of the sky high heels.

It was love at first sight. Thank gawd Deviant agreed and later on confessed that if I had tried to walk out of the store without the shoes, he would have bought them for me.

Damn it. Next time I have to test walking out first and then if nothing happens go back to buy the heels...

All cultural and shit with Sydney Festival

Bunnies, it has been a good week.

Work's been hectic in a positive manner. I've had shitloads to do, but I've been able to concentrate on what I was doing well enough to enjoy it. I have been creating something I could easily stand behind and believe in.

If the customer has the balls to go with it that is. But hey, here's hoping.

On another front, I've finally been able to get active on Sydney Festival. There's so much to see, its impossible to know where to start!

A workmate of mine offered me a ticket to see the new performance by Chunky Move, so I suppose that provided me with a starting point as good as any. All the good old drunkards showed up and we were treated to a very entertaining - even if a bit technology masturbation heavy - show. It was great to see everyone again after such a long break and we enjoyed the rest of the night drinking outside the Spiegeltent.

That was Thursday. On Friday, I was alerted about a Finnish act playing at Angel Place.

A mate of mine had spotted a local radio advertising a quirky Finnish jazz act Iiro Rantala New Trio. What made them interesting is that they have replaced the drummer with a young lil beatboxing kid. Now, usually I really am not into scratching or beatboxing of any of that crap, but fuck me this kid was good!

And last but least, I caught an article on SMH introducing this bizarre Finnish man and his accordion. Kimmo Pohjola is apparently the new born Jimi Hendrix of the accordion and surely enough I had to witness his act.

Conveniently he was on at Angel Place right after Iiro Rantala New Trio so we ended up being both last night. The amount of bizarre demons this guy could magically summon with his electronic accordion was truly amazing. A fantastic show!

Chunky Move

Iiro Rantala New Trio

Kimmo Pohjola

Hectic times

Finally I have a second to catch my breath. Returning to work after my holiday has been pretty hectic. In fact, I don't think I've ever felt this wanted!

My current source of inspiration.

My current project has been a weird one. The field could not be more foreign to me, yet after I got past the first obstacles, I've been overly inspired and been able to produce (what I think is) very good quality in a very short time.

At first I thought it was impossible for me to get the designs ready before the deadline, yet here I am, finishing nearly half a day early!

This is a good day.

I [heart] Alannah Hill.

Intensely feminine, romantic and whimsical - what more could you ask for? Apart from stumbling into her store while the sale was on that is.

'A Childhood Moment' cardican


'Her Modern Life' skirt

Alannah Hill

Operation tan = fail.

Yes. I managed to pull off the Stupid Scandinavian Tourist[tm] trick again and toast myself on the beach. Silly rabbit.

We walked from Bronte to Tamarama and Deviant went for a swim. The sea was going apeshit and I decided not to go in to drown myself. We didn't even stay long.

*sigh*

My cooked lobster impression is once again impressive.

Cocktails and conversations

Feeling a little bit under the weather today if I'm totally honest. We went out for 'a couple of civilised drinks' last night, and we all know what that means...

A mate of mine from Finland is in town for a month for work. Let's call him Buttman. He invited Deviant and myself out for a couple of catch up drinkies after work, so off we went.

Buttman is a character and a half even sober, not mentioning after a few drinks, so I thought I better let Deviant know what to expect. I told him to be prepared to meet a super-intelligent nerdy ninja with a super strong Finnish accent, and with whom you couldn't have a conversation exceeding 30 minutes without the subject turning to anal sex. A sweet guy as such, only totally fucked up. In other words very good value.

Naturally, he proved me right straight away.

We took Buttman to a very funky classy cocktail bar where you rarely order from the list. Instead, you have a few minutes chat with the bartender and he'll whip you up the drink of your dreams.

So there we are, in this super trendy cocktail bar, surrounded by well off beautiful people as the following conversation takes place:

Bartender: 'What do you like?'
Buttman: 'Ummmm... I like... straight... honest... raw... anal sex.'
Bartender: 'Mate, I'm a bartender, not a fucken shrink!'

So when we finally get to sit at the table with our drinks, I've got a divine pineapple mohito-ish drink in front of me, Deviant's holding a delicious orange fruity smelling concoction that strangely tasted like single malt whiskey, and Buttman was sitting there holding a martini glass full of straight vodka with a little piece of lemon swimming in it.

Needless to say the drinks were perfectly matched, and Buttman was so impressed he tipped the bartender $50.

Another priceless quote I recall hearing in the wee hours of the night was:

Buttman: 'Hey where can we go to steal a kangaroo? I may not be as fast as I used to be, but I'm still a ninja!'

Its good to be back

Not only did I suddenly gain back my gorgeous hunk of man meat, the super delicious dinners he cooks for me, the mind-bogglingly yummy sex life and the beautiful Sydney summer - I also got back just in time for the sales on Oxford Street! Bliss.

Oh my beloved shoe stores, how I have missed thee! Now just look at these gorgeous slinky forest green Mollini numbers I scored today:

Aren't they just delicious?

Mind you, they do pose a problem: now I need to find shit to wear them with as I don't have anything green at the moment. Yes, I can see a new excursion to Oxford St happening on Saturday...

Which brings me to my next subject. Now don't get me wrong bunnies, I love going back to Finland... but how fucken bad does the shoe shopping in Tampere stink?!? Hideous shoes at horrendous prices! Unbearable I tell you!

If you know Tampere shoe store stockists, please let them know that I personally think they should be dragged behind the barn and executed for crimes against humanity.

Shoe spotting

[via]

Spotted these babies worn by Angelina during my morning blog roll. I NEED THOSE HEELS.

Pain

Crap. Failed to score a bed for myself on the night train from beyond the Arctic Circle back to civilisation. This means that I have a very, VERY long night ahead of me.

*sigh*

It takes 12 hours for me to get from Kemijarvi to Tampere. Seems a bit unreasonable keeping in mind that I can get from Helsinki to Sydney in 20...

Christmas Day piss-up

Apparently, Christmas Day is the new Boxing Day as far as piss-ups go. We - Mira Bell and I - heard from a very reliable source (read: from our certified piss-head mate Poof Jesus) that no longer do people wait till Boxing Day to go out, but instead hit the piss one day early. Naturally, we had to test it.

There was also the mystery of my missing jacket to solve. I had managed to lose my winter coat during my bday piss-up and showed up home in a tiny lil black dress, sans coat. Not good. The ulterior motive for hitting the pubs was to somehow track down my beloved red winter coat.

We had a clue: I found a mysterious cloak room ticket in my bag from a bar that I did not remember visiting. However, after bringing this up I was told that we had in fact spent the majority of the night in this particular dodgy joint. Clearly, I had drank even more than I had realised. It was truly a miracle I was still alive.

Back to Christmas Day. We made plans to hit a hideous bar called Las Palmas and started the night with salmiakki vodka shots. Back on the horse, hey? The novelty value of Las Palmas wore of even quicker than I expected and we continued onwards on our mission as soon as Poof Jesus and Candy Mama showed up.

On route to the meat counter also known as Doris, we managed to locate my beloved jacket from Onnela, just as the mysterious cloak room ticked had hinted and we had our first (and last) win of the night.

The theme of the night was 'nothing has changed'. See, the four of us have been hitting the piss for the past 15 years and therefore all equally suffer from a major age crisis. However it was somewhat of a relief to realise that nothing really had changed that much.

Doris was even worse than I remembered.

It was the worst I had seen. Poof Jesus had to hold all of us three chicks under his arms yet still there were hands trying to crab us every which way he was not looking. Every time we hit the dance floor, there were drunken idiots everywhere attempting to hump our legs or grab our arses.

The three of us (me, Poof Jesus and Candy Mama) were vicariously living through Mira Bell, as she was the only single in our merry crew. We were trying pick the best meat for her, ever if she did not agree with our opinions. At least it kept us entertained.

At the end of the night, we were leaning against the bar counter, off our tits and pointing and laughing at the heavily intoxicated fellow piss-heads around us still trying to pick up anything that moved... or actually, I don't think they cared that much anymore. It was more like they were willing to pick up anything they were able to carry home with them.

Then Poof Jesus directed our attention towards the dance floor to announce that Mira Bell had successfully picked up.

Clearly, nothing had changed.

Reamonn - Supergirl

Hey you anonymous asking after Supergirl: the band is called Reamonn.

(Going through all the comments that I have accidentally ignored while I haven't been blogging)

More delicious heels

The only thing sexier than this pair of heels is the gorgeous hunk who bought them for me...

I was having a bit of a bad day and Deviant decided to cheer me up with these delicious stiletto pumps. What a perfect man!

The Big Three-O

So. I turned 30 and can now officially be described as an old cunt. Naturally this required a hefty dose of alcohol to numb the pain of aging, right?

We started with a practice run in Sydney a couple of weeks early. See, I was going to exit the country before my actual birthday and Deviant wasn't going with me, so in order to get him in on the fun, I needed to have a pre-party.

The usual group of piss-heads gathered in to meet us at our lil love nest, and with the help of copious amounts of alcohol, we went on till the sun came up and I believe I threw the towel in around 7am by crashing on the bedroom floor next to our bed that was taken by a visiting couple.

The following day was not so fun.

--

The actual birthday party took place in Tampere, Finland and after the trial run was such a drunken success, the Finnish piss-head mates of mine had a lot of expectations to live up to.

The task was not easy, however these were not just any old drunkards: Hospodar, Kennu and Mira Bell trained in from Helsinki while Jyppi and Junnu drove in from Jyvaskyla and we all met up at Cafe Europa, the same dodgy bar where we used to start up so many yrs ago as teens.

Mira Bell disappeared into the bathroom for a while and came back cranky as all hell whinging something about breaking a clothes stand and a lash curler. Apparently she had been attempting to open the bottle of Sol she brought with her and failed miserably. Not only did she have the beer in her bag, but also a slice of lime packed neatly in glad wrap to go with it.

Bring on the champers, Battery Vodkas and Long Island Ice Teas - the night had begun!

I had been afraid of these dear friends of mine getting older just as I had, but my fears were soon proven wrong:

Kennu was drooling after meat way too young, Hospodar was pouring alcohol down my throat at a very unhealthy pace, Jyppi & Junnu had a backpack full of beer with them and Mira Bell picked up a 22 yo at the end of the night.

Clearly, nothing had changed.

We put immense effort in both quality and quantity that night: we drank everything and in enormous quantities. There was karaoke, titty bars and dodgy joints - a true trip down the memory lane back to those glorious teen nights so many years ago.

The following day was even worse than the one after the Sydney pre-party and the majority of it was spent trembling in bed in fetal position or practicing my Norwegian at the slightest scent of food or alcohol.

The need to improve no longer exists, as I cannot survive a night bigger than this.

2008

Bunnies, it's been a while. Starting a brand new year seems like the perfect excuse to get back on the horse, don't you think?

Despite turning into a sickeningly happy coupled up old cunt, I still seem to have the ability to end up in situations not recommended for healthy human beings. Piss-ups, bad ideas and unhealthy mates still make up a major portion of my life, even if most of my time is spent in the office as a corporate whore or playing the perfect little Stepford wife at home.

Cooking in stockings and stilettos seems to work surprisingly well just as designing drunk, so all is well in the world of shoeboxes.

Right now, 2008 looks every bit as delicious as this pair of heels my gorgeous hunk of man meat gave me for my 30th:

trent on universal au

"Last time I was here, I was doing a lot of complaining about the ridiculous prices of CDs down here. And that story got picked up and got carried all around the world and now my record label all around the world hates me, because I yelled at them, I called them out for being greedy fucking assholes. I didn't get a chance to check, has the price come down at all? I see a no, a no, a no... Has anyone seen the price come down? Okay, well, you know what that means - STEAL IT. Steal away. Steal and steal and steal some more and give it to all your friends and keep on stealin'. Because one way or another these motherfuckers will get it through their head that they're ripping people off and that that's not right."

"8 ways to drive a graphic designer mad'

this has to be the funniest shit i've read for ages and i just had to share this with you bunnies! (please note that this post is a direct copy-paste from ghisroy.com)

As everyone knows, graphic designers are the reason there are so many wars in this world. They get inside our heads with their subliminal advertising, force us against our will to spend money on the worst pieces of shit, and eventually, drive us to depression and random acts of violence. And of course, most of them are communists.

So to do my part to save the world from them, i made a list of things you can do when working with a graphic designer, to assure that they have a burn-out and leave this business FOREVER.


1-Microsoft Office
When you have to send a graphic designer a document, make sure it's made with a program from Microsoft Office. PC version if possible. If you have to send pictures, you'll have more success in driving them mad if, instead of just sending a jpeg or a raw camera file, you embed the pictures inside a Microsoft Office document like Word or Powerpoint. Don't forget to lower the resolution to 72 dpi so that they'll have to contact you again for a higher quality version. When you send them the "higher" version, make sure the size is at least 50% smaller. And if you're using email to send the pictures, forget the attatchment once in a while.


2-Fonts
If the graphic designer chooses Helvetica for a font, ask for Arial. If he chooses Arial, ask for Comic Sans. If he chooses Comic Sans, he's already half-insane, so your job's half done.


3-More is better
Let's say you want a newsletter designed. Graphic designers will always try to leave white space everywhere. Large margins, the leading and kerning of text, etc. They will tell you that they do this because it's easier to read, and leads to a more clean, professional look. But do not believe those lies. The reason they do this is to make the document bigger, with more pages, so that it costs you more at the print shop. Why do they do it? Because graphic designers hate you. They also eat babies. Uncooked, raw baby meat.

So make sure you ask them to put smaller margins and really, really small text. Many different fonts are also suggested (bonus if you ask for Comic Sans, Arial or Sand). Ask for clipart. Ask for many pictures (if you don't know how to send them, refer to #1). They will try to argument, and defend their choices but don't worry, in the end the client is always right and they will bow to your many requests.


4-Logos
If you have to send a graphic designer a logo for a particular project, let's say of a sponsor or partner, be sure to have it really really small and in a low-res gif or jpeg format. Again, bonus points if you insert it in a Word document before sending it. Now you might think that would be enough but if you really want to be successful in lowering the mental stability of a graphic designer, do your best to send a version of the logo over a hard to cut-out background. Black or white backgrounds should be avoided, as they are easy to cut-out with the darken or lighten layer style in photoshop. Once the graphic designer is done working on that bitmap logo, tell him you need it to be bigger.

If you need a custom made logo, make your own sketches on a napkin. Or better yet, make your 9 year old kid draw it. Your sketch shouldn't take more than 5 minutes to make. You don't want to make something that's detailed and easy to understand, because the less the designer understands what you want, the more you can make him change things afterwards. Never accept the first logo. Never accept the 9th, make him do many changes, colors, fonts & clip art. Ask him to add a picture in the logo. Bevels. Gradients. Comic Sans. And when he's at his 10th attempt, tell him that you like the 2nd one the most. I know, it's mean but remember: graphic designers are the cause of breast cancer among middle aged women.


5-Chosing your words
When describing what you want in a design, make sure to use terms that don't really mean anything. Terms like "jazz it up a bit" or "can you make it more webbish?". "I would like the design to be beautiful" or "I prefer nice graphics, graphics that, you know, when you look at them you go: Those are nice graphics." are other options. Don't feel bad about it, you've got the right. In fact, it's your duty because we all know that on fullmoons, graphic designers shapeshift into werewolves.


6-Colors
The best way for you to pick colors (because you don't want to let the graphic designer choose) is to write random colors on pieces of paper, put them in a hat and choose. The graphic designer will suggest to stay with 2-3 main colors at the most, but no. Choose as many as you like, and make sure to do the hat thing in front of him. While doing it, sing a very annoying song.


7-Deadlines
When it's your turn to approve the design, take your time. There is no rush. Take two days. Take six. Just as long as when the deadline of the project approaches, you get back to the designer with more corrections and changes that he has time to make. After all, graphic designers are responsible for the 911 attacks.


8-Finish him
After you've applied this list on your victim, it is part of human nature (although some would argue weather they're human or not) to get a bit insecure. As he realises that he just can't satisfy your needs, the graphic designer will most likely abandon all hopes of winning an argument and will just do whatever you tell him to do, without question. You want that in purple? Purple it is. Six different fonts? Sure!

You would think that at this point you have won, but don't forget the goal of this: he has to quit this business. So be ready for the final blow: When making final decisions on colors, shapes, fonts, etc, tell him that you are disappointed by his lack of initiative. Tell him that after all, he is the designer and that he should be the one to put his expertise and talent at work, not you. That you were expecting more output and advices about design from him.

Tell him you've had enough with his lack of creativity and that you would rather do your own layouts on Publisher instead of paying for his services. And there you go. You should have graphic designer all tucked into a straight jacket in no time!

top shit.

tigger bounce!

i was treated to the most hilarious case of real life slapstick comedy the other night.

we went out to the helen lempriere opening at artspace, which was a big deal this time due to pg making it as one of the finalists. so naturally we got sloshed. which was all good. in fact, we had an excellent night catching up with everyone.

i was pretty much gone so i went straight to bed when we got home. deviant on the other hand was feeling rather energetic and playful. so there i am, lying in bed and he storms into the bedroom and takes this massive tigger bounce leap into the bed.

now instead of landing on the bed like the frisky beast he is, the bed bounces him straight off into flight again and i hear this awful crash as he lands into the wardrobe. there is a silence that seems to last forever until i hear a weak trembling 'ow ...that hurt. a lot.'

poor tigger. i don't think the endless pointing and laughing helped either.

parkour at tgv

amy winehouse

fuck rehab. what this woman REALLY needs is to have her stylist burned at the stake!

[via]

love at first sight

my work mate just received his iphone.

i have to say that its even prettier irl than it is in pictures. now the only problem of course is that we're in australia, and there is no way for him to use it.

still perty tho.

guess what?

I - WANT - ONE !

parcels from mum are the best thing in the world

(just for the record: my mum roks big time!)

we found a perfect new lil one bedroom apartment with deviant a few weeks ago. we moved in a couple of weeks ago and are (still) located very conveniently in sydney's inner east.

you just can't beat the eastern suburbs. full stop.

anyhoo, this apartment is fantastic and we're both over the moon about it. we still haven't decked it out fully, but we have a list - even if a very long one - and one item at a time, we plan to make this place home.

oh, also an update: coexisting with deviant is still fantastic and only getting better by the day. who would've thunk it? i reckon the perfect balance is: i make him brekky in bed every morning and he cooks me delicious dinners. a win-win if i've ever seen one!

well, the reason i'm ranting and raving on abt mums is that i just received a parcel from mum.

she sent us a little 'welcome to your new home' pressie that contained marimekko goodies and finnish candy!

mum sent us his and hers sets of marimekko towels ('nimikko' bath towels & 'ujo' hand towels), a 'kaiku' tea towel to suit the 'kaiku' fabric i'm going to frame on our livingroom wall and of course finnish candy (salmiakki-chocolate rocks my lil world!).

now how cute do the towels look in our bathroom?

there is a giant stuffed fish head on my dining table!

no. it is not always easy coexisting with the fisherking. see, he caught his 105 kilo black marlin off the rocks this year. which - needless to say - is a big deal.

now as fas as i'm concerned that's awesome. deviant can now feel like a Real Man[tm] and the fish was uber tasty. plus there was lots of it. one-hundred-and-five-kilos to be exact. now that's a lot of fish.

well that was all good. but what happened next? the goose wanted to get his friggen fish mounted!

now there is a massive fish head on my dining table. not happy jan. not happy.

but have you ever seen a happier man?

sick lil puppy

ok. i'm as sick as a dog, all rugged up in bed hugging my laptop and bored shitless. not fun.

i think this is my cue to finally start blogging again. i mean, apart from filling my cup of steamy healing tea goodness, what else do i have to do?

retrospective: pasha bulker

here's my piccies of the big fat lady - neatly stuck between the flags on nobbys beach in newcastle:

[wikipedia: pasha bulker]

awesome tracks

unkle - burn my shadow

gotye - heart's a mess

from one addiction to another?

bunnies, i don't know what to do with this blog.

a lot has changed since the first post and it doesn't seem to serve the same purpose as it did back then.

for one, i can't seem to find time to write a decent entry. there has been loads of stuff happening lately, but i never seem to find myself in front of a keyboard within a reasonable timeframe to document the fresh encounters or experiences into blog entries.

also, i am sharing my space with another person nowadays. i'd rather be social with deviant and friends, or leave the apartment when i have free time on my hands. the last thing i want to do is sit in front of my computer.

at the moment i'm just too wrapped up in this whole nesting bullshit. must be getting old. and boring.

mebbe its just my new found facebook addiction that's peaking and eating attention from everything else?

second life