Merry Christmas.

Oriental Bay on a slightly blustery Christmas Eve Afternoon, where everything is a relative ghost-town as people either head off around the country or fear the fictitious Christmas-Eve-crush in the city.

I have a post-chocolate-feasting head-ache. Detox time!

Christmas Eve Eve Eve

1. A Serious Film

I was Rich's movie-buddy for the week and we took in 'A Serious Man' by the Coen Brothers. I'd read reviews that warned me about it, so wasn't shocked by its bleakness. It was.... odd. Interesting. And.... very bleak.

As we were leaving, still trying to decipher what the ending meant (it cuts off at a really odd place) Richard did ask me, 'Is there anyone you recommend that to?' and I drew a blank. Perhaps I am underestimating the oddness of my friends and their tastes, but it's certainly not likely to be a main-stream success. Don't go to it based on liking 'No Country for Old Men' or 'The Big Lebowski' or 'O Brother Where Art Thou'. It's a different kettle of fish.

I do like the Coen Brothers. As with their others, this film is well made and clever. And in the book I'm reading (mentioned in previous post) it talks about how a lot of artists say they like to play around with the white space, or silence, in their work.... and that is what the Coen Brothers like to do. There are lots of bits with long, awkward silences where all you can hear is someone stirring their tea or the sound of a machine sucking the fluid out of the uncle's cyst [a detail entirely fitting the tone of the movie, but one I could have done without].

It's certainly a film worthy of discussion and study, more-so than 'Avatar'. One to ponder. Much like a movie like 'Citizen Kane' is a worthy film, though not necessarily easy to watch. I'm not saying it's in that category of film, just that it had lots of unexplained bits you could discuss. Whereas a rom-com might be more enjoyable and easy to watch, but you really don't have a lot of points to ponder afterwards. I have faith that the things I don't quite understand about the film (like, what was the whole prologue about and how was it relevant to the story? and was the Jefferson Airplane song more significant than I realised?) were carefully done and if I listened to a director's commentary on it I would be impressed by the cleverness of it all.

I liked the main character - he certainly was a serious man. Very likable - he took life's knocks with a certain grace, though you'd want to shake him into action at times. For me, that made the film more enjoyable than something like 'The Reader' where I didn't like any of the characters.

And there was some dark humour in there - funny moments. Actually, the whole thing was kinda funny - not in a LOL way, but in a HEH kinda way. All the situations were dealt with in a humorous way - the humour of awkwardness. The tone was very Coen-ish throughout in that regard.

I'd say it was the Coen Brothers being a bit self-indulgent (I've read this is the most autobiographical film they've done). It's a quality film, but it has a very unresolved narrative.

Certainly not everyone's cup of tea, but I'm glad I saw it.

2. On Demand

I've been trolling the TVNZ site for shows and clips to watch. I found this one about 'Larping' and watched it, since I think I know lots of people that do it.... was hoping I'd recognise more people in it!

3. Waterfront Pictures

I am reading a book. A book about music and the brain. And psychology and neuro-science stuff. It's called "This is Your Brain on Music".

So far I have read the introduction and I like these two bits:

"Whenever humans come together for any reason, music is there: weddings, funerals, graduation from college, men marching off to war, stadium sporting events, a night on the town, prayers, a romantic dinner, mothers rocking infants to sleep, and college students studying with music as a background. Even more so in nonindustrialised cultures than in modern Western societies, music is and was part of the fabric of everyday life. Only relatively recently in our own culture, five hundred years or so ago, did a distinction arise that cut society in two, forming separate classes of music performers and music listeners. Throughout most of the world and for most of human history, music making was as natural an activity as breathing and walking, and everyone participated. Concert halls, dedicated to the performance of music, arose only in the last several centuries."

"Why do people seem to get stuck in their musical tastes as they grow older and cease experimenting with new music?"

* * *

Lots of things the author is bringing up are things I've had moments of wondering about.

Just last night I was talking to Billy, and he was describing how sometimes at the Welsh Dragon bar (which has a lot of Brits and travellers) lots of people turn up and sing songs together. Songs that he has never heard before, but which most people at the bar seem to join in for, a Capella. It's something that's missing in modern kiwi culture.

And I've been noticing for years that I hardly ever 'discover' new bands that I like. I've forgotten how to do it.... or I just don't like anything new.... or my brain is full up with things I already like. Not sure.

For many a year, up until I was at university, my dad was pretty 'hip' with the music and liked new artists that were coming out, like Ben Harper and Bjork. But now he's quite content with his old stuff and makes funny faces if I play him something new. Ever since he evolved to liking jazz.


I hope somewhere in the book I can find a justification for my SingStar obsession that makes it sound cultured and evolutionarily advanced.

The examples the author uses to explain timbre or rhythm or pitch are from music that I know, like Buddy Holly and the Beatles and Paula Abdul (he raves about the musical complexity of 'Straight Up'). And I never realised that the 'ABC Song' had the same melody as 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'. Not consciously, anyhow.

I look forward to reading more!

Walking along today (slightly stiffly - like a really really cool robot, I like to think) I saw some middle-aged ladies.

They had on sensible-shoes. With cushiony soles and velcro straps.

I hope I never have to wear old lady shoes. If I do, it will be a sign that I've given up. Or at least, my body has.

My back has returned to 90% power. Phew.

I did not like having to psyche myself up just to bend over and reach for the remote control on the table (it reminded me of when you've applied wax strips to your leg, and you have that moment of hesitation before you rip it off, because you know you are about to inflict sharp pain on yourself).

* * *

Where the Wild Things Are.

Interesting film. Nobody came out of it raving - at best people were defensively satisfied.

I liked it. As much out of loyalty to Spike Jonze as to the book its based on. But of its own account it was nicely made. I guess the criticisms of it would be that it didn't have a whole lot of emotional depth and it got fairly repetitive in its narrative cycle. Have destructive, wild fun. Feel lonely and sad afterwards. Repeat.

But it was nicely filmed, had a good sound-track, great special effects. And it had 'moments' that held gravity without having to say a lot. I liked how when he returned home at the end, him and his mother didn't even say a word - there were just lingering close-ups on their faces, showing all kids of love/regret/relief/apologies/understanding.

We talked afterwards about how, while we didn't love the casting of Max, it was understandable that for the story they were telling you probably couldn't have used a younger/cuter kid.

Anyhow... Jonze films are good for their 'look' and their seamless switching from reality to fantasy, using sometimes low-tech special effects and their quirkiness. This one didn't have the unpredictablity of his others and there wasn't the character development, but I guess the story didn't call for those things.

As a youngest child, I understood his pain and frustration.

$!#$%@#$%@#$%

I have quite a sore back today. Sorer than I can remember experiencing before.

I hurt it a bit at netball, playing defence. Then I played centre and it hurt even more. Then I got home and could not quite walk comfortably unless I stooped. Then I started reading the Timetravellor's Wife and read til 4am somehow... then couldn't get to sleep anyhow because my back hurt no matter what way I tried to lie. Got two hours sleep, maybe three. Gotup at 10.30 because I wasn't tired anyhow.

Then it hurts more today.

I will trek (or drive) down to the pharmacy and see if I can get better drugs. Owie.

I feel like swearing a lot. STUPID @#$@#$@#$ NETBALL!

* * *

Ahhh. Nurofen Plus. And a wheatie bag applied to lower back. I hardly ever take drugs - one Panadol at most. A few times a year.

Having four of them this morning before going to the chemist was not kind on my empty stomache. Had to go to the bakery after the chemist to get a big bread roll. Now I look forward to my pie at Sweet Mother's because it will be time to have more drugs, not because pie is delicious.

For now I can lie in bed for hours reading. And my back only hurts when I get up to close the curtain because the sun is too hot.

This 'Timetraveler's Wife' is very readable. Makes me want to travel in time. I have less than 100 pages left - that's fast reading for me, since I started at 11pm last night.

December 14th, 1993

Today marks a symmetry point in my life, in a way. I was 16 on the day my mother died. I'm 32 on this anniversary of her death.

That means I've lived half my life with her alive and half without. For some reason, the next bit seems like unchartered territory for me. It was always somewhat comforting that she'd at least been with me over half my life.

Lady of Leisure

Social Calendar

What a great start to my holidays....

Sunday - Maria's Bowling Club Christmas Party

I'm catching the bus out to some Hutt bowling club with Michelle for some cheap Christmas drinks, organised by Maria and others.

Monday - Lovely Bones Premiere

Me and Cass are going to park up for a good view of celebs at the Embassy red carpet event (6pm).

Tuesday - Wild Things

Going with Rich and co to 'Where the Wild things Are' at Embassy after 6pm some time.

Wednesday - Carols

Going with Cass to Carols in the Park (Waitangi Park from 7pm). Blanket and picnic! Must leave early for 9pm netball though....


If anyone wants to come to the premiere or carols in the park let me know. The more the merrier!
* * *

It Makes me Proud

I got a card from one of my all-time fav students (if I had favourites, that... which I don't....). She's just finished 7th form and it was one of the nicest cards ever.

I like this bit - 'I really like that you're a bit weird like me and my friends - I think it's a great attribute'. Aww!

Her and another kid (both of whom are quite quirky, to be fair) said I was one of the friendliest teachers they'd had. I'll take that!

* * *

A Juxtaposition

At 8pm on Friday night I was having a wine and pizza at that bar/cafe on the corner of Willis and Manners Streets (next to where the movie theatre used to be and it goes kinda below street level a tiny bit). I walked in and there was a guy who looked tallish, sitting down with a friend playing chess and wearing a Rock Shop tshirt. I thought he could be my boyfriend. I didn't talk to him though.

Later on the two girls I was with had a game of chess. They didn't know how to play so I had to teach them - couldn't quite remember how to 'castle' and which was nearest the king at the start out of the knight and bishop.... but I remembered the rest of it. It's been a while! I like chess.

About three hours later we were considerably drunker, having downed two bottles of champagne and six shots between us. We were out with other staff from school and some flatmates of staff. Two of the men in the party got in a fight on the foot-path in Courtenay Place. Some people ended up at A and E while one of the flatmates got stitches in his eye.

Rock 'n roll! Since I have a pretty mature bunch of friends, that may be the first time I've been with people who've had a fight like that..... makes me feel young again. Had I not been quite drunk at the time, I would have been deeply disturbed. There was blood.

The Silly Season is Nigh

1. PJ

Sam has done a thorough enough post on the PJ concert. Everyone I know who went was fairly unanimous about it was o for awesome. I was glad we got tickets in the front of the field and got to do some gentle moshing (we diverted any ungentle looking people who tried to push into our possie).

They really do have a lot of good songs and I was suprised at how good their most recent stuff sounded live too.

My friend Iona was an ideal host - dropped us off and picked us up. A guy at work who caught the train said that after the concert the train was just packed with PJ fans who had drugded in there... and he suddenly got the idea that if there was some crazy person out there who hated PJ, this would be the ideal way to eliminate them en mass..... the train could be going anywhere....

2. Frujus

I got a pack of Frujus a couple of weeks ago when Sam and Rich and co came around for take-aways. Kinda forgot about them.... but have had them all in the last few days.

I'd forgotten how damned good they are! I have a very satisfying routine going with sucking the juice out of the edges, then biting them off.

3. Tiny Stormtroopers

This person's photo collection tickles my fancy. It's two little stormtrooper figurines getting up to all kinds of mischief and adventures. Vader appears sometimes too.

Get Amongst it, Lassie

I quite like this article on stuff about the soccer-girl who yanked down the other player by her ponytail. It's a nice media dissection of the responses.

I tend to agree that it's rather blown out of proportion, when you consider that the male equivalent might be a guy yanking another guy down by his shoulder. That would never make international news. It's just a part of soccer, which is a dirty, dirty game. It was a pretty rubbish thing to do, and it might have hurt a bit, but it was in the heat of the moment and it was done to try to get free, rather than to try and maim her.

I certainly wouldn't want to play against her since she seems to like elbowing people in the kidneys, but the few games of soccer I've watched all looked fairly brutal and it's a game where only the most blatant of fouls seem to get the ref's attention. This culture leads players towards getting away with as much as they can off the ball, or even on the ball. If you wanna make up a little high-light reel of all the times she took out players during the match, then it's more of a criticism of the ref than of her.

I wonder, with our rather 'butch' female culture, if this incident would've been as controversial if it had happened in NZ. I like to think we applaud our female athletes for being rough and tough. I guess we don't support them to the point of unsportsmanlike behaviour, but to be fair only two of the things she did on that clip were grossly beyond fair contention for the ball.

Shh - Maybe Nobody Saw

That leads me to the French saga. As I was saying to Michelle and Sam tonight, I'm not going to criticise the guy who got away with the hand-ball. That kinda thing happens in sport, and if the ref had called it he probably would've nodded and got on with the game.... but sometimes when it doesn't get called, you're kinda taken aback (especially when it's that blatant) and you go with it out of shock. It's the ref's job to call up infringements - there is no onus on players to always be honest (especially at that top level).

Ultimate Frisbee is the only sport where that happens.

Certainly in most sports, if the ref misses something, you're not going to go back and make him change his call. In basketball, if I made a game-winning defensive play, but knew that I'd fouled the player, there's no way I'd say, 'Excuse me ref - but I fouled her, give her some free-throws.' Doesn't work like that. You might just quietly say to the player, 'Tough break - I probably fouled you there,' at the most.

I guess there would be something very noble about having owned up to it, but you can't play 'what-if'. If he'd refused to take the goal, then some die-hard French fan who was pissed off that his country didn't make the World Cup might've fire-bombed his house or something. You can't please everybody, and you've only got a few seconds in which to make that judgement call.

I guess that's one of the nice things about cricket, the expectation of honesty when the ref messes up a call. It's quite a unique and gentlemanly honour-code. It would be a real test of character to see if a batsman would own up knicking the ball in an equivalent situation - say, the final over of a World Cup final, where his team had no wickets left and needed a few runs to win it.

But soccer sure ain't cricket. Apples and oranges.

I have sampled the TV show 'Glee'.

It has its funny moments. Not 'Big Bang Theory' hilarious, but mildly amusing. They usually occur when the evil ex-cop cheerleading coach is around.

My two biggest criticisms are
1) That the singing is so obviously computerised to be perfect pitch. It has those awful Cher-like mechanical trills in it. I'm not going to be impressed by that - but would be impressed by a real voice singing pretty well, albeit imperfectly.
2) After two episodes, it seems that every single show will have the line 'But we're not like them [the popular kids] - that's why we're in Glee club, where we can be ourselves' (said as one of them looks wistfully at a hot cheerleader or cool guy).

Play it again, Sam

I can't remember what it was called, but on Sunday nights there used to be that TV requests show, hosted by Jay Lagaia and sponsored by Minties.

I love how Youtube serves the same function now.

Here are two TV moments I looked up out of nostalgia....

The Cosby Show: Challenge!
The Critic: El Kabong!
Rip Tide: Intro!
Whiz Kids: Theme

At some point you realise....

[photo irrelevant to first part of post]

That nobody is perfect.

I have realised this about bosses (realised it about my parents years ago). Facades have crumbled all around me!

I have been at a workplace long enough to see a total change in management. There seem to be two types of people who have these jobs - the charismatic and decisive ones who don't follow through and like to pass the buck and the methodical but over-consulting ones who are afraid of taking firm stands on things.

While people heavily critique the current management for whatever flaw they have, as soon as they get replaced, the same people will miss them and wish the new ones had their strengths (forgetting about the weaknesses).

It's an interesting thing to observe.

I just try and do my job as autonomously as possible and remember that weaknesses are often complemented by strengths and vice versa.

For example, I am 'disorganised' (though I could explain the method to my madness - it's more of a 'just-in-time' production technique) but I also adapt well when things don't go to plan. If I find myself in a Mexican stand-off with another teacher at the door to a computer room we both thought we booked, I can handle backing away to Plan B, rather than watch the other anally-prepared teacher begin to self-implode in the uncertainty of the moment.

Anyhow.

People of my generation are starting to be these wonderfully flawed leaders. Crap.

* * *

I was with Cassie at Count Down in the Hutt, when I came across something cool.

A basket on wheels! It's a mini-trolley that is light and handles really well, taking up hardly any space in the aisles, yet holding enough groceries for a single-lady. It's the Formula 1 trolley of the supermarket.

They are, of course, designed for the elderly, but glaciers also like to lean on things whenever possible.

* * *

I found this website that works like a search engine, but for pictures....

I seem to often match up with Asian women (I think it's the fringe) and when I have my hair pulled back I'm a dead ring-in for an Indian man (evidently) and it sometimes confuses my hair for a helmet.

Here is Jon and his similar images (he matches up with male models, lucky bugger).

Luckily I had lots of photos of Jon lying around, him being a photo-hog and all.

* * *

I found this interesting.

I am part of a modern social phenomenon - 'Women's Creation of Camera Phone Culture'.

Preface

I've eaten my way through a box of Cadbury Favourites. I'd like to say I'd shared them, but 'share' is a word the single person does not have the luxury of using. And thus the vicious cycle continues...

Anyhow, I was quite disappointed. I don't really like the changes they've made. It's all very bland and pastel and mushy. Where's the hard raspberry caramel that gives you jaw-cramp? Where's the caramel barrel that bursts into your mouth with gooey runny goodness? And they've added Cherry Ripes. Any candy based product based on coconut seems like a rip-off to me. Coconut is what Mum would sprinkle on the top of perfectly good chocolate slice to make it seem 'grown-up'. Ptooey to coconut, says Kate.

I digress.

In my chocolate eating haze I have been cruising the internet in a leisurely fashion. Leisurely in that I have no more senior classes to teach. So I'm not having to look up new and interesting stuff on wrestling or the newspaper industry. I can be totally frivalous and have no agenda! Bliss.

You will also note my blogging output has a correlation to school workload. Less work = more blog. Blogging is thinking. It's trying to formulate an opinion on something, or retell an event, in a cohesive way. I find it therapeutic. Am I allowed to call it a hobby? Will the people who produce solid, practical things from their hobbies laugh at me? Can I call it a hobby if I actually never get any better at it?

Anyhow, to have time and mind energy to blog is a good thing.

What I Like

I accidentally caught the end of Jools Holland tonight. I have decided to make a point of flicking onto Rialto every now and then, since for about the past 6 months I've forgotten it exists (I tend to go up to 9, then cycle back down - my world is limited).

And there was a girl on there that I liked. She is Imelda May. I actually only really liked the second song she did (which is later in the clip at 3mins12secs). Jools accompanies her on piano. It's jazzylicious.

I also like Colin Hay. I have decided to seek out some actual albums from him. I stumbled across him when I was being a pirate and getting songs from the Garden State sound track. He's done a lot of work on Scrubs.

I came across this song, which is one of my favourite post-break-up songs ever. I just like the sentiment of it. I like this song too, which is a bit more upbeat (a bit).

I like the sound of his voice (I have a thing for gravelly, story-telling singers) and I like the acoustic sound, and I also really like the lyrics.

I used to sing this song to myself back when I used to play guitar (that has been on hold since my flatmates put in enough barbed comments to make me self-conscious about playing - I have lost my callouses).

I like tangible, specific lyrics. I hate hyperboles too generic to mean anything (=Celine Dion).

Beck's lyrics are like poetry. I can't quite figure out what it means, but it sounds nice how it's all put together.

Crushed apple cider buzz.

Surround sound of Gomez's 'Rosalita'.

Niiiiiice.

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if my parents did me a dis-service by being so damned nice to me while I was growing up.

I have a pretty thin skin for mean people. A very thin skin - like an eyelid. I have a thick skin for a lot of things. But for meanness, I have a low threshold.

It can be excused in teenagers, who are still building their empathy stores (and who, for the most part, try really hard to be thoughtful). I could do without passive-aggressive shite from grown-ups.

* * *

I am beginning to lose faith in my scales.

They have fluctuated about 5kg in the last week or so - and I'm sure my body hasn't. Not having trustworthy scales sends me into some kind of existential angst - I'm not sure just how guilty I should be feeling! I want irrefutable evidence!

* * *

When you're in a hospital visiting someone, it's really hard to not cough.

* * *

Summer is a frustrating time when you live in a flat with no good out-door area.

* * *

On some levels I can still really respect my brother. He never has any money for treats. So, we were at the supermarket getting dinner and I said, 'I'll get you some stuff if you want anything.' He pauses thoughtfully and says, 'No.'

Then I insist, and he says, 'Ok - I could get some noodles.' He gets two six-packs of Trident noodles. I woulda bought him a lot more. I then insist he gets a treat as well. He gets a cake of chocolate.

* * *

I wonder if John Key's popularity has peaked. People are starting to talk about how the 2nd year tends to start to show the cracks.

* * *

I want to be friends with Sheldon.

Christmas Songs in my Head

1. My Husky Voice

My colleague said I should have recorded a new voice-mail message while I had my sexy-voice (in the early stages).

Had laryngitis again for a couple of days. It's the best of all the cool sounding diseases to have - you get visible symptoms, but feel pretty good inside! Great for sympathy, yet you can easily soldier on and look like a martyr when you actually feel better than you would with a run-of-the-mill head-cold.

It's quite an occupational hazard for a teacher. I had to plan a day of lessons where I had no need to talk - videos and essays, baby.

From googling my symptoms I have deduced that it probably somehow spread down from my impacted wisdom tooth, which seemed to infect that side of my mouth and lymph nodes a few days earlier. Either a viral or bacterial infection (I'm not sure of the difference). This is a good thing, since it means it was only acute laryngitis, rather than chronic. Chronic laryngitis means you need to go to something called a speech pathologist.

I don't like the idea of having a dying voice.

2. Healing the World

I spent quality time with my family today. My dad's wife had back surgery (relatively minor this time, though it went wrong and they had to operate again a couple of days later to take out a wonky screw, which means she can make good jokes about having a screw loose now).

Dad took me and my brother to the Michael Jackson movie. I paid though - a monumental ocassion, given my dad recently retired and it evidently costs $60 for three people to go to the movies and have ice creams! Who knew? I am now the bread-winner of the family.

I had cringed when I heard that was what we were seeing. It made sense, given my brother was a massive fan back in his youth.... And the first few minutes of the film made me cringe, with back up dancers gushing is a really put-on sort of way about how this was the highlight of their life.

But after that it was quite good. There was no narrator (they didn't mention his death at all), so it was just these really raw clips that showed the behind-the-scenes of the lead-up to a concert. You got to see the dance rehearsals and the band rehearsals. And I'd never realised how good his voice actually was - he's not like these modern pop singers who have to lip synch when they're live. He really is a perfectionist, but in a professional way. I liked seeing all the tiny details that they sorted out - the timing of everything is so intricate.

And he moved pretty good for an old fella. Certainly didn't look like a guy about to go into cardiac arrest or anything. It was actually better than a film of the live concert would have been, in terms of Michael being more animated and natural.

I liked it.

Long may the Weekend Be

Note: My dad playing bongo drums in the background. 'Baby' the leopard stuffed toy - Ruby's favourite ('Isn't he beautiful?' she often says). My happy-face cupcake (we made them - I did all the hard stuff though).

My favourite interaction of the weekend:

Ruby (3 year old nibling): Is Dav....vin your husband?

Me: No, David is my brother - like Finn is your brother.

Ruby: So who's your husband?

Me: I don't have one.

Ruby: Why not?

Me: I'm too young.

Ruby: [disbelieving look - had she continued in this vein I would have insisted I was 11 years old, even if she cried tears of frustration]

We kept playing her free Happy Meal computer game after that (though she was rubbish at it - could only press one direction button - I was awesome).

* * *

Back to 80 friends. She reappeared magically. Phew.

Diwali

It was a little chilly for Diwali. We had to brace sleety rain as we zig-zagged our way through the somewhat unnecessary queue barriers.

To us whities' surprise and disappointment, I'm guessing, there was no butter chicken in the whole place! It seemed to be mostly vegetarian lentil concoctions in sauce with fried stuff. I got samosa, pakora and mango lassi.

The funniest bit was when there was an Indian hip-hop group performing. They were quite bad-ass cool, with a beat-boxer and rapper. When they finished they thanked the audience and said, 'Hang around for the puppeteers.' Hehe. I liked that juxtaposition.

The puppeteers had some questionable moves. Most of the puppets seemed to hump the floor at some stage, while writhing about. I liked that they came out at the end and the big fat guy with a moustache was introduced as the master puppeteer. Sounded like a Metallica song.....

I liked it when they got a bunch of audience people to dance to the song from Slumdog Millionaire. Tai Ho! If Michelle had been less fluey, I would have made her come volunteer with me (once I realised that the first 4 bars just involved clapping, and the next 4 stepping from left to right).

* * *

And a he he he. This is something my nana would do and the guy in the car is the definition of a douche-bag.

This week I got a shoe fixed, a picture framed and fixed the problem of my headlights not workign.

How very grown-up!

* * *

I am still having fun with my wrestling unit. This week we had a critical look at the entrance songs, the divas, the language used in interviews and the use of steriods in WWE.

It feels somewhat wrong showing them clips of women in lingerie and men saying 'candyass'..... so far nobody's parents have complained..... I thought showing the CNN doco on drug use to them might at least make it look intellectual on some level......

* * *

Three weeks to go. Fishy knows what I'm talking about.

A banged head goes donk.

A hit cricket ball goes tonk.

What goes bonk?