Chapter 5, or The Bit Where We LEarn How to Jog Ana's Memory and Make Her Think Straight

““You’re worried,” he adds, his eyes filled with concern. Is there nothing I can
keep from this man?”

Okay. We’ve established that Charlie Tango got sabotaged. We’ve learned the office fire was arson. She keeps telling him how she can’t live without him. It sort of follows that he may not need to read Bellas’ mind a clairvoyant to work out that she’s worried. And she marvels at his astounding ability to work that out.

“He… swats my behind. I yelp, startled, and realize that today we’re going back to
Seattle and my melancholy blossoms.”

Because that’s how you jog Ana’s memory. You swat her behind. I think that says it all. Also, what do melancholy blossoms look like?

Christian straps the key to my wrist.
“You want me to drive?”
“Yes.” Christian grins. “That’s not too tight?”
“It’s fine. Is that why you’re wearing a life jacket?””

Wait, back up to the start of the chapter.

“He’s dressed in his cut-offs and a gray T-shirt.”

When did the lifejacket materialise on him? And how come, given she’s practically not allowed to take a shit without a bodyguard, he doesn’t put one on her? Are we supposed to believe he would pass up on the opportunity to truss her  into something and arch his brows and make clumsy double entendres about bondage?

““Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey. Are we going to stand on this platform all
day debating your driving skills or are we going to have some fun?”
“Fair point well made, Mr. Grey.” I grasp the handlebars of the Jet Ski and
clamber on”

I’m going to assume someone programmed a macro for E. L so she can just hit Cntrl+FairPointWellMade to generate dialogue.

Then AnaBella crashes the Jetski because she is just so clumsy, and…

“The water is cold this far from the shore, but I surface within a
split second, courtesy of my life jacket.”

Oh look, another insta-lifejacket.

“See, that wasn’t so bad!” I grin as we tread water”

Why are you treading water? You have magic insta-lifejackets!

And then this story arc ends having had no point whatsoever. They did not drown. They did not get chowed on by sharks. Nobody got injured and the only result of the whole fwitterous episode is they have to shower. Because they fell  into the sea. Because they wouldn’t have had to shower if they just had a long sweaty ride in their insta-lifejackets.

Ana contemplates her melancholy blossoms and Christian contemplates the fire in the office and somehow they are in the first-class lounge ready to fly home.

“I’ll have Welch’s balls on a platter if he lets anything like that happen again.”

I thought it was arson. Most people don’t let arson happen. Given that Welch is the poor bugger who had to comb through the email servers to delete the emails Christian kept telling Ana not to send (by email), Chedward had better be wary about threats to Welch’s privates.

“I do the only thing I can think of to ease the sudden tension between us and raise the camera
and snap another photograph.
“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re home,” Christian murmurs.”

She fell asleep in the middle of taking a photograph? No wonder you have to swat her butt to jog her memory.

“His eyes melt, the color of a storm cloud, and he smiles his shy smile, my favorite
smile”

Wait. What? His eyes were burning. Now they’re melting. Edward, you need to rethink those contact lenses. And they melt the color of a storm cloud? Forgive me, I associate melting with hot stuff. Are they going to freeze the color of a volcano next time Ana annoys him?

“it’s hopeless. I’m wide-awake, my body clock on Greenwich mean time, my mind
racing.”

Why is her body clock on Greenwich mean time when they’ve just come back from holiday in a country which isn’t on Greenwich mean time? One Google click tells me that France runs on GMT+1. So her mind needs to stop racing and wait for her body to catch up.

“And now here I am, Mrs. Anastasia Grey, married to the most delicious, sexy, philanthropic, absurdly wealthy mogul a woman could meet”

Here’s the thing. When someone is described as  mogul there’s usually a bit more information attached. Say, a business mogul, or a software mogul. Without that bit of information, a mogul is, in fact, a bump in a ski slope. She is married to the most delicious, sexy, philanthropic, absurdly wealthy bump in a ski slope a woman could meet.

“My shining white-and-dark knight always trying to protect me. How am I going to make him
open up more?”

A scalpel would work. Have you considered a scalpel?

And then they have sex so mindblowing that even E.L is lost for words. Maybe she could just have a blank page, entitled “Mindblowing Sex at 3:05”. Oh, wait…

And just like that, they’re home. Hi, Taylor. Blank page entitled “Mindblowing Sex at 10:30”.

Blah don’t want to go to work meeble can’t be separated from Christian, let’s go to lunch with the family.

“I run my fingers absentmindedly over the leather upholstery of the door to distract my wandering thoughts”

What does this actually mean? Her thoughts are wandering; we know this because they are absent from her mind (geddit, absentmindedly?). Why do they need distracting as well?

“I smile at him, mostly for the benefit of his family, but my spirits take a nosedive again. Why does he make these decisions without telling me?”

Someone please point me at the last decision Christian allowed Ana to take or bothered to inform her about?

“Ana,” Kate exclaims, snapping me out of my reverie. “You still in the South
of France?”
“Yes,” I reply with a smile.”

No. No, she’s on GMT.

“Christian sits down at the shiny black upright piano,presses the quiet pedal, and starts to play a familiar tune that I can’t immediately place”

Pianos have a DAMPER pedal, a SOFT pedal and a MIDDLE pedal. There is no QUIET pedal. Again, one Google stab.

And then OMG Christian is going to let her drive home!

“My inner goddess whips on her leather driving gloves and flat shoes.”

That woman certainly has some props!

And then the Secret Service Sawyer and Taylor tell Chedward that they’re being…

“Followed! Holy shit. My heart lurches into my mouth, pounding, my scalp
prickles and my throat constricts with panic”

Well, it’s a good job her heart made it into her mouth before her throat constricted.

“I mentally slap myself to subdue the dread that’s threatening to swamp me”

How do you mentally slap yourself? Is she slapping her inner goddess? I personally hope she slaps her subconscious so hard those half-moon specs go flying.

““How do we know we’re being followed?” My voice is a breathy, squeaky,whisper.
“The Dodge behind us has false license plates.””

Um – wait. How does it follow from there that the Dodge is following you?

Ah, I get it! E.L is using a syllogism. Clever girl! It works like this :

Major premise : Ana and Christian are the most important people in the world. (she did not bother saying this because you should already know. For those just joining us, there’ll be a clue a bit further on.)

Minor premise : There is a car with false plates on the motorway

Conclusion : It must be following Ana and Christian.

“I drop a gear and floor it.”

If you dropped the gear, surely gravity will see to it that it gets to the floor?

“I weave between the two lines of traffic like a black counter in a game of
checkers, effectively jumping the cars and trucks”

Batmobile……located! Please, please let her make another reference to the Dark Knight before the end of the ride….Please!

“As I put my foot down, the glorious R8 zooms forward, and we tear down the left lane, lesser mortals pulling over to let us pass”

I hate this author so much. But there you have the missing bit of the syllogism.

“A truck lurches into the fast lane—Shit!—and I have to slam on the brakes.
“Fucking idiot!” Christian curses the driver as we lurch forward in our seats.”

“I slow, check my mirrors, signal, then move with surprising ease across four
lanes of the highway and down the off-ramp”

You move with surprising ease because the lesser mortals have all pulled over, Ana. You told us this.

“The street is quiet, with few vehicles. Where is everyone?”

Chedward, slap her butt. Jog her memory.

And then she finds out that Sawyer has a first name.

““Ah.” How did I not know this? The man has been following me to work for the last six weeks, and I didn’t even know his first name.”

You don’t know this because you’ve been too busy having an orgasm every time Chedward Grullen looks at you, Ana. Also he hasn’t been following you to work for the last three weeks because you’ve been on honeymoon. Slap her butt.

“You did amazingly well, as usual. You blow me away, Ana. You never let me down.”

I wish she would blow him away.

“Adrenaline turns to lust streaking through my body. I clasp his face, running my fingers over his sideburns”

And a few paragraphs later…

“My fingers curl into his overlong hair”

And then they have the sex in the car and it is mindblowing but unfortunately not a blank page entitled “Mindblowing Sex in the Carpark.”

“Where’s the, er . . . unsub? What does that mean by the way? Sounds very
BDSM.”

Honey, by the time an unsub gets involved it’s not BDSM any more, it’s murder.

So, Christian drives them home and then they decide to have more of the sex, this time on the car but they’re rudely interrupted by some inconsiderate bastard  who wants to park his car and get home. They meet the inconsiderate bastard at the lift, he smiles at Ana and Chedward pees on her.

“ He pushes the call button and as we wait, the driver of the BMW joins us. He’s young, casually dressed, with long, layered, dark hair. He looks like he works in the media.
“Hi,” he says, smiling warmly at us.
Christian puts his arm around me and nods politely.”

And then she rolls her eyes at him and they decide it’s time for om nom rough sex nom.

“When we burst through the double doors, Sawyer is standing in the hallway, looking expectantly at the two of us.
“Sawyer, I’d like to be debriefed in an hour,” Christian says.”

Now, see, you debrief someone who has been on a mission. They tell you what they’ve seen and done. I don’t think Sawyer really wants to know about Ana’s awesome driving skills, because he saw most of that, and as for sex in the car, if Chedward told him he’d have to kill him.

And so endeth Chapter 5.

Fifty Shades of WT double F

How is this not the most blatant rip-off of Twilight EVER?

 

“The painful recollection of how I felt when Charlie Tango was sabotaged and Christian went missing—the hollow emptiness, the indescribable pain—keeps resurfacing; the memory nagging
me and gnawing at my heart.”

 

There you have the entire summary , plot and storyline  of “New Moon” . And in that book, at least the author had the decency to represent the hollow emptiness with loads of blank pages bearing nothing but the name of the month in which Bella felt empty!

 

 ‘’Keeping the smile fixed on my face, I try to repress it.’’

 

I’m confused here. Is it her face she’s repressing? Her smile? The memory?  Subject/object agreement is clearly for pussies!

 

“Were you watching me sleep?”

 

Yes, because he is a tortured vampire Edward Cullen A CREEP!

“Yes,” he says gazing at me steadily, studying me. “You were talking.”

 

Because EVEN THOUGH NOWHERE IN ANY OF THE BOOKS HAS IT BEEN MENTIONED THAT ANA TALKS IN HER SLEEP SHE IS A BETTER VAMPIRE THAN BELLA SWAN!

“Oh?” Shit! What was I saying?”

 

Going by the rest of your dialogue, AnaBella, probably “Jeez!”  and  “Double Crap!”

 

 

Internet - good servant, bad master

When L.M.M Montgomery read a newspaper story about a young orphan girl sent by mistake to a middle-aged brother and sister (the mistake being they wanted a boy to help run the farm) she was inspired to write "Anne of Green Gables". I sometimes wonder if she would have done that if she'd first decided to pop on to Facebook and update her status to "OMG, got brilliant idea for book!" and put in a few rounds of Farmville.

Anyway, luckily she didn't do that.She went on to chronicle most of the life of said Anne, and in one of her later books she used yet another newspaper story as part of the plot. I particularly remember this one because our minister that year preached about it under the guise of "Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free." I thought he was plagiarising Anne, but actually, he'd turned the same newspaper article into part of his own plot.

The story goes that in the town to which Anne moves with her doctor/surgeon husband, there lives a lady who runs whatever a boarding-house was called in those days (late 1890's). She is mostly accompanied by and has to take care of a grinning shambling idiot (I use that in the descriptive rather than the derogatory sense). He's her previously charming and well-spoken husband. Apparently he charmed her parents - and her - into believing he would be a good husband and then turned into a chronic wifebeater; and one of the only reasons she's not actually badly damaged is that he was a sailor and spent long periods away from home. On one of those trips (to Shanghai) he picked a fight with the wrong crowd and some percussive maintenance on his head turned him into the useless but non-violent wreck he is now. His crew brought him home (thanks, guys!) and now he can't earn money, hence boarding-house. Meantime, a writer has come to finish off his masterpiece, taken up residence at the boarding house and he and the ex-abused wife are in love. The good people of the village look askance at this arrangement (skeevy hoor!) at the same time as not doing a whole lot to help her eke out a living.

Enter Anne's doctor husband, who enthusiastically pronounces his belief that he can cure the idiot's idiocy with surgery, and is totally taken aback when the entire village gets up in arms about the prospect, on account of where Idiot George is better than Wifebeater George. Eventually the doctor gives the wife the choice, and she tells him to go ahead. (The minister said it was because she knew it was her Christian duty; personally I think the doctor sold it to her when he started the sentence "There's a huge risk involved, but.."). Idiot George not only survives the operation, but turns out not to be George at all. Apparently he's Fred, George's identical cousin; he signed on for the Shanghai trip at the last moment and was with him when George picked the fight that ultimately caused George's death, for dead he is. Fred was trying to go to his aid when he saw someone sink a knife in George's stomach and dump him in Shanghai Harbour; and shortly after that Fred's head met something hard and he went into limbo for seven years. The crew brought him home because they couldn't tell the difference between Fred and George and at least George had somewhere to go (thanks, guys!). So the wife is a widow, George is fish poo, and the doctor is suddenly a hero. Everyone is happy, except of course the villagers, who not only have to eat huge helpings of humble pie, they also have to find another village idiot and elect another skeevy hoor. Also Fred, who is now not only jobless and homeless, but has a long and interesting gap on his CV.

The point of this long ramble is that writers have always used sources. Even Shakespeare used the rumours of Danish regicide and insanity to craft Hamlet.

So at what point does using a Source become plagiarism? See, I am fascinated by the hoohah surrounding Fifty Shades of Grey. I haven't read it and probably won't, but when last did a book provoke such a reaction? It apparently sets back the cause of women's rights by fifty years (bzuh?) and there's a mass book burning being organised by the women who run the Auckland abused women's shelter organisation (I don't approve of any book burning on principle; this more so because women have been abused for far longer than books have been around to give their abusers the notion). It is held to be responsible for increased crowds of women visiting hardware stores to buy supplies such as rope and chains (I've tried to stay away from that one).  And then there are those who are screaming PLAGIARISM.

What does it plagiarise?

Apparently, Twilight.

Now, given that the heroine of Fifty Shades apparently signs a contract allowing some filthy rich stranger millionaire to do whatever he wants with her, the only thing I can see that Fifty Shades has in common with Twilight is that it chronicles the unlikely survival of two heroines who share a total disregard for safety and common sense. At least I assume the heroine of Fifty Shades survives, given there's a Book the Second and Book the Third. We all know what happens in Twilight. Well, I do; my then-eleven-year old wanted to read it and I read it first so I would know how much please-explaining I would need to do (the answer is none, though I did emphasize that when you find a creepy stalker of any species lurking in the corner of your bedroom and watching you sleep, the appropriate course of action is to take a nine-iron to him. Or possibly the fairway wood).

So, suicidal heroines and filthy rich weirdos. What else do the books have that support the cries of plagiarism?

So, yes, I did it. I asked Google.

Do you know, there's a blogger out there who collected fifty (heh!) instances of plagiarism between the two? Well, she and her friends.

http://www.fiftyshadesofplagiarism.blogspot.co.nz/

I can't comment, not having read Fifty Shades; but it does strike me that in order to do this they all would have bought copies of Fifty Shades. No such thing as bad publicity, evidently.

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/jacketcopy/2012/05/the-origins-of-50-shades-of-grey-go-missing.html talks about  "romance-focused site Dear Author, which compared the two works side by side. In one test, using the plagiarism-checker TurnItIn, the texts had 89% similarity." There's a plagiarism checker?
Yes, there is. And here we have the good servant/bad master factor in a nutshell.
For all of this fascinating research time, I WAS NOT WRITING!!!
And so I am writing this, so I will see it and remind myself of what I am supposed to be doing when I get behind my computer. Writing - and using the Internet for that purpose.

Sadface

Neil Armstrong died.That is all.

Gobsmacked. The man speaks fluent crazy.

http://amarillo.com/news/latest-news/2012-08-20/senate-candidates-comments-rape-stir-outcry


Todd Aiken, Missouri Congressman and rabid anti-abortionist, was asked in an interview broadcast Sunday on St. Louis television station KTVI if he would support abortions for women who have been raped.

"It seems to me first of all, from what I understand from doctors, that's really rare," Akin said. "If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down," Akin said of a rape victim's chances of becoming pregnant.

While my mind is flailing desperately around the notion that it follows if a rape victim does become pregnant, then it wasn't a legitimate rape, it occurs to me that possibly the flailing comes from the fact that 'legitimate' and 'rape' don't belong in the same sentence or even in the same thought.

My relationship with the nice young men from Vagabond..

... let me tell you about it.

Vagabond, for those just joining us, is a shop supplying all the needs of wargamers young and old, from models and paints to trading cards and scenarios for said wargames. The paints come with wonderful names like Ratskin Flesh, Screamer Pink and Incubi Darkness. Every now and again when Honourable Son needs something, he writes it on a piece of paper, and I go to Vagabond and hand over the piece of paper, and they glance at it and go and get boxes with horrifying things on them and I hand over my card and pay and leave. Scarily, they seem to be able to read his writing. One time in the school holidays I was given a list of paints with names I couldn't decipher - possibly just as well - and the nice young man frowned, looked at me  and said something that might have been "They don't use Bleached Bone white in the new coda; it's supposed to be Maggot Shit white" or possibly not. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then I fished out my mobile, selected Honourable Son from my contacts and meekly handed the phone over. They spoke Vulcan for a short while, or possibly Klingon, and then the nice young man disconnected and gave me my phone back. He went off and came back with several tiny paint pots and a Thing I don't even want to think about and I paid and departed.
Me and the nice young men at Vagabond understand each other perfectly.
So, Honourable Son's birthday is coming up and today I Googlemapped the store (it's moved), printed the map and stuck on the post-it note on which Honourable Son had scrawled what is probably StormRaven. I did have verbal confirmation from him that this is what he wanted.I set off for Queen Street at lunchtime, found the shop, marched in and cheerfully asked for a StormRaven.
The two nice young men glanced meaningfully at each other. One of them stuck out his hand and I meekly handed over my map. He unfolded it, found the post-it note, then looked back at the other one and nodded. The other nice young man disappeared and came back with a box. It has a seriously ugly gunship thing on the cover, bearing no relation at all to any raven I have ever seen. He put the box together with my note into a bag, I paid and left.
Nice young men clearly know better than to believe me, obviously. Wonder what would have happened if I had gone in without my note? Oh wait, I know the answer to that one.
I'd have had to hand over my phone. 

Stormraven. On no account hand one over to an unaccompanied mother.

Massive facepalm

Are there times when you find yourself going, "WHAT? ARE YOU FOR REAL?". This is one of them, for me.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/business/6769823/Call-for-apology-over-iwi-failure

The people of Ngati Tama deserve an apology from the two men who led the iwi down a path to financial failure, says a board member who resigned.

(an IWI can best be described as a tribe, though many will object to the inference of tribalism in the use of the word TRIBE).

Last night 85-year-old Te Aramau Lake became the first Ngati Tama board of trustees member to speak to the media about how the iwi managed to lose nearly $20 million in failed investments.

Mr Lake, who has been on the Ngati Tama board of trustees since its inception in 2003, said an apology was in order from chairman of the board Stephen White and his son and chief executive, Greg White.

"Nobody has said sorry as yet," Mr Lake said.

The Taranaki Daily News has been unable to contact Greg White despite numerous attempts since a hui on Saturday at Pukearuhe Marae where members heard about how virtually all of the iwi's 2003 Treaty of Waitangi payout of $14.5m had been lost in high-risk investments.

(Hui (Māori assembly))

Stephen White had failed to acknowledge the devastating circumstances the iwi was in, Mr Lake said. "The chairman of the board wouldn't admit there was a loss. There was no sign of compassion or whatever."

During the hui, Mr Lake and fellow board member Peter White resigned from their positions because they felt it was time to see fresh faces on the board, Mr Lake said.

Greg White also resigned as chief executive after coming under pressure from the advisory board which is now investigating Ngati Tama's financial collapse, Mr Lake said.

Mr White was initially elected into the position of chief executive largely through a dynasty process, Mr Lake said.

(Even Google doesn't know what a "dynasty process" is)

Mr White previously worked as a freezing worker, wharfie and roofer, and lacked the experience required for a chief executive role, Mr Lake said. (Does anyone else feel like shrieking, "No shit, Sherlock?") Mr White often proved elusive during his time as chief executive. "We had a hell of a job tracking him down when he was our manager," Mr Lake said.

The last Mr Lake knew, Mr White's chief executive salary was $70,000 but that might have climbed in recent years.

Records on file at the Companies Office show Ngati Tama had shares in an unusual mix of companies including the Eel Enhancement Company, Original Pipe Traders, Open Group, Ikatuna and My Virtual Home, which is now in liquidation costing the tribe more than $12.5m.

(My mouth is still hanging open here. Seriously, the Eel Enhancement Company?

Bugger me, they really exist.

Who knew eels needed enhancing? )

 Ngati Tama was also a sole shareholder in Ikatuna which had stakes in Septic Solutions Taranaki and Tu'Ere Fishing. Greg White had involvement as a director in four of the companies.

(and nobody went on coys.co.nz to check this? On the all-your-eggs-in-one-basket basis?)

Mr Lake said the board was too lenient at times in allowing iwi money to be invested.

(Oh, you think?)

"I think we have to take some blame on that.

"There were things done and said where we never really had a handle on it at all."

Attorney-General Chris Finlayson said it was a very sad situation Ngati Tama were in.

The Crown left iwi to shape their own destiny following any settlement payment, Mr Finlayson said.

"Any ongoing involvement of the Crown in iwi decision-making is a return to a very paternalistic period in our past.

  "It also undermines the concept of full and final settlement, by suggesting the Crown has an ongoing role as guarantor," Mr Finlayson said.

(Wow. Can I have 14 million to blow? I promise to apologise afterwards.)

Seriously, I can’t understand how a board of grown men who elected a totally unqualified CEO via a process unknown to anyone else and then gave him licence to invest over $14 million of Crown money in companies in which he had a principal shareholding can be surprised by the fact that the money is gone, Dave, all gone. And all they seek is an apology. Also, how did $14 million turn into $20 million? And I still want to know how you enhance eels.

                               Gone, Dave.

copper and corks

What an interesting week.
School holidays began, with much choccie from the Easter Bunny.
I discovered that this ideal little corner of teh globe harbours vultures who will prey on a man trying to save costs by doing some of the building of his future home by stealing into said unfinished home and stripping out his copper wiring and tubes to sell on. This forces said already exhausted man to sleep in the shell of his home to stop the thieves. That's throw-up-worthy sickening. All we could do to help was to have his daughter stay over here so he only had one body to worry about in case of incursions. Nice one, human vultures.
For the first time since I've been travelling on the ferry, it had to turn around on Wednesday night. Big easterly wind, waves 2.5 metres and rising, the skipper couldn't see where he was going. The phrase 'bobbing about like a cork' became clear to me, except corks don't really mind which way is up and I rather did. We had to turn around and sail back to Auckland, where they piled us on the more majestic Tiri Cat and sent us back up the Rangitoto Channel. All that was missing was spread arms and "Every night I see you...." from the prow.

First world problems

The ponytail story

"Scientists have said that a "Rapunzel Number" may have helped them to crack a problem that has perplexed humanity since Leonardo da Vinci pondered it 500 years ago.
Scientists from the University of Cambridge and the University of Warwick said they had devised a "Ponytail Shape Equation", which when calculated using the Rapunzel Number and a measure of the curliness of hair can be used to predict the shape of any ponytail."

Really? REALLY? THIS is what we've spent 500 years worrying about?

And another real attention-getter here :

what a waste of space

"Quick change! Samantha Cameron swaps trouser suit for daring pink dress as she sits front row at McQ's hair-raising show"

This is news in what universe? Unless she actually did change as she sat in the front row (no, she didn't) or the dress was actually daring (no, it wasn't) this story is a total waste of bandwidth. However, I am now annoyed because I actually went to the story(to verify the public-change and daring bits) so I started reading the story. That was a mistake.

"She is the ambassador for the British Fashion Council"

What in the name of goodness does a Fashion Council need an ambassador for? Does she get diplomatic immunity while rescuing fashion victims from fashion nazis? What, for that matter, does Fashion even need a Council for?

And then Salma Hayek wades in with more misrepresentation.

"'It was so mind-blowingly extraordinary - every single piece - and very wearable - stuff we can all wear."

The accompanying photograph of her shows, disappointingly, that her brains are still where they were when the show began.
As for the second bit of the sentence.....



Yep, I see myself popping out to PaknSave in that. For sure. Perfect for golf too. That's her hair, BTW - not a hat.

Something we all wanted to know, here, on the anniversary of the Christchurch earthquake...

'Her buttocks are 100 percent real'! Coco Austin undergoes an on-air examination to prove her curves aren't fake"

WHAT???!!!
This is such Bzuh! stuff I find myself reading on while trying to retrieve my jaw off my instep.
It turns out Coco Whatever is married to IceT (heh, Coconut Ice, anyone?) and the bits of the article that don't deal with an ultrasound scan done to prove that her ass is made of meat (because the continued successful operation of the Hadron Particle Collider depends on this vital piece of information, presumably) deal with how she and said husband are looking to buy a new house because she has too many clothes to fit into the old one.

Oh wait, it gets better, That was actually the plot for an entire TV episode.


On the other hand, this made my day.

It's a he-gassen scroll; he-gassen translates literally as fart-battle. I can practically hear my 16-year old Beloved Son shriek, "That's so ninja!". For myself, I'm quietly happy that enough of this type of art exists to actually warrant its own name.

On human nature

Hmm, we live in interesting times; and I find once again you learn a lot more about people by listening to them than talking to them. Ruthlessness exists in the most unlikely people. Sometimes we assume that the time we invest in other people's children will result in consideration for ours; this is not so in many cases. I have just walked away saddened by a real-life example of people who would rather see me cancel something that is important to my daughter than have to inconvenience themselves. I wouldn't say I've lost my faith in human nature (insofar as it ever existed) but I have realised just how unsafe it is to bank on that nature being benevolent.

For so many years now, I've investigated the best ways to deal with communal parental difficulties by working together; this mostly involves me spending my time and organising logistics - CDs, photocopying; that sort of thing - and clearly there's no return on investment here.

I don't think this will stop me from helping people who ask for help; but it has made me think twice about reaching out and helping people. Which is a shame, because some degree of isolation and cynicism had started lifting.

On a lighter note...

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2098101/South-African-claims-famous-Zulu-singer-died-2009.html
"A South African man who claims to be the resurrected figure of one the country's best known - and dead - has charged with fraud, South African police say."

(Nobody is telling us what he charged, although the oversight is understandable in light of his status as the resurrected figure of one of the country's best known and dead idols.).

"The man mounted a police truck to explain to the crowd that he had been kidnapped by zombies who had kept him trapped in remote cave."

(Of which there is only one?)

"Doubts were also raised about the fact that the 'resurrected' singer no longer had his distinctive gold tooth and that the deep scars on his face appeared to have healed."

This is what I adore about this story. They frown about his missing gold tooth and some healed scars, but the zombie kidnap and detention bit; yep, we're totally down with that.

No! He was not!

On the occasion of my daughter breaking her nose for a second time

Listening to The Heart Asks Pleasure First (better known as the theme from The Piano) I want to play this for my daughter and ask her whether she feels more like echoing it with her feet or her fingers.

Because either answer tells me more about her.
I can picture her now, asking, "Did I answer wrong?"
There are no wrong answers. She never disappoints me or fails to fascinate me.
Maybe this is why we feel the loss of our mothers so keenly.

Why you should listen to your mother, Part 17

So, it's JP's birthday and  they're all off to Spookers, House of Horror extraordinaire (I am told). You have to be 16 to get in, as the voucher informs me when I book his ticket. It also informs me that you are expected to wear sensible footwear. Now, getting Michael to wear shoes at all is a mission, but he will wear his Rockies sandals if forced. Sensible footwear sounds to me more like it involves socks. With some trouble I persuade him to include a bag involving socks and shoes among the other essentials for a night out (horrid plastic and steel models, dices of many sides, codex, laptop, oh and maybe a toothbrush). I also ask him to check that he has his student ID with his DOB on it.

It goes like this :

"Mum, it's in my wallet!"
"Have you checked that?"
"Mum, we're going to be late!"

Come 7.30, we the not-Spookers are sitting down to supper. Shani's birthday present rings. (Samsung Smartphone). It's a stealth call from her brother.

"Can you go find my passport?"

After a few Bzuh? moments, she establishes that he needs a photo of the page which proves his age, because, no surprises, the student ID is not in his wallet. So the plan is, Shani photographs this page with her birthday present and sends it to PK's phone (PK has the same phone) and PK displays this to the vigilant gentleman guarding the entrance. None of which is to be noticed by the parent who is so going to say "I TOLD you so!"  the next day.  Yes, he's clever, but not smart. Followers of this blog will also understand why sending the photograph to Michael's phone is not a practical possibility.

The lasting problem for Michael, though, is that his passport has expired. A lot. The photo in it is the one taken just before we left England; a tremendously cute 7 year old beaming chubbily at the camera. Which is now on PK's phone.  And if anyone thinks that's where it's going to stay, you haven't been in close contact with a bunch of 16 year old schoolboys recently.

I foresee a lot of cheek-pinching in Michaels' future.

Also note the footwear. Apparently Spookers agrees with me on the sensible footwear front.

l-r Molly, Will, JP, Peculiar Person, PK, Michael.

More Press fwittery

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2087810/Base-jumper-plummets-200ft-breaks-legs-botched-wingsuit-leap-Table-Mountain.html
Base jumper Jeb Corliss jumped off Table Mountain in a wingsuit, and something went horribly wrong - either a gust of wind or possibly his foot catching on an outcrop - so he did not so much fly as plummet back to earth. He is recovering and stated to be in a stable condition. Here's the quote that has me scratching my head.
"Officials in South Africa have said the California-born stuntman could face criminal charges or a fine following his Table Mountain leap.
A spokeswoman for the flat-topped mountain said base jumping was banned there due to safety concerns."

Mountains have spokeswomen?

http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/celebrities/6281024/Wahlberg-would-ve-stopped-attack

Point 1 : " "If I was on that plane with my kids, it wouldn't have went down like it did," he said. "
It's GONE down, Mark, GONE down.
Point 2 : " "There would have been a lot of blood in that first-class cabin and then me saying, 'OK, we're going to land somewhere safely, don't worry.'" "

It's a matter of record that when the terrorists who piloted those planes into the Twin Towers were learning to fly, they made it clear that they weren't interested in learning to land; and it has always bothered me that this did not raise a red flag in their instructors' minds. Given that in order to take over control of the planes the first thing that the terrorists would have had to do was to incapacitate the pilots and co-pilots, leaving the plane in the hands of two men who didn't know how to land, just how is Mark planning to land somewhere safely?


http://www.stuff.co.nz/business/world/6282600/I-beg-your-pardon-Nuckin-Futs

Deals with the enterprising Aussie snack maker who wanted to come up with an iconic Aussie name for their new nut snack and the resulting legal case. All interesting enough but the last paragraph raises my eyebrows by sharing this :

"The edible snack, which contains nuts, will only be sold in pubs, nightclubs and other entertainment venues."

Glad we got that cleared up then. You wouldn't want inedible snacks in pubs.

I am most horribly afraid..

...that the excellent Ms Charlaine Harris has chosen to wind up her "Grave" series with the latest book (OK, latest to me; I use the library rather than the bookstore!) "Grave Secret". She hasn't said she is doing so; she ends the book with lines that make it clear the story goes on, but the book just has a winding-up feel to it, and it saddens me. Harper Connelly, heroine of the series, is one of the most appealing literary characters I've found; she's a fighter who has survived and continues to survive appalling circumstances and prejudice, and the whole story so far is a beautifully put-together jigsaw; and that's what bothers me about this last book; she dropped the last piece of the jigsaw into place.
And yet, and yet. There's Babylon 5. I loved this series; the storytelling was magnificent and it came to an end when the story ended, and nobody milked it, even though fans would have liked them to. Maybe that's the trick of a memorable story; and Ms Harris is a memorable storyteller.

Bother.I was right.

From her FB page :

"To clarify, there will be another Sookie after "Deadlocked," which comes out this May. It's nice to know that lots of readers will miss her, but it's not a good idea to extend a series beyond its natural life.
 I don't have plans to write any more books about Harper Connelly or Lily Bard."

I am disappoint.

The More Sources and Insiders, The Less News

Tag : And this is news because….?

 http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10777526

Some unknown chef (described as a ‘celebrity’ though I’ve never heard of him) split with his partner, who I’ve also never heard of, and is now boyfriending Nicky Watson, who I have heard of, though she says she doesn’t want to be famous (hint : in that case, don’t announce to the media that you have attempted suicide, used hard drugs, had threesomes,  watched pornography from a young age and forgotten to wear underwear at high-visibility outdoor events) and said partner has provided all the input for this article describing her shock and failure to understand her ex’s new relationship. She concludes the article by saying, “I don’t care. I am just getting on with my life and they can go to it.”

Um…..okay then. She doesn’t care so much there’s an entire news article about the matter and I am still wondering what is newsworthy about any of it.

Tag : How DO these people know so much?

http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/celebrities/6230562/Depp-battling-fractured-romance

So this one has to do with the reported relationship problems between Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis.

Although I think ‘reported’ may be a flattering adjective, if you actually read this article. There are some in-depth insights into the situation from, respectively,  “A Source”, “The Insider”, and the RadarOnline website. Yes,  that website so well-acquainted with the mind of Johnny Depp that they have published a photo featuring the face of Depp and Paradis’s eldest child right against the express and clear wishes of Johnny Depp.  The article is full of ‘reportedly’, ‘speculation’, ‘apparently’, ‘suggests’, ‘claimed’, which means  the following are all the actual facts I can glean from it.

·         The couple have been together since 1998.

·         They have two children together.

·         Radar Online have cobbled together some story about them to put on their website.

I knew the first two and I don’t give a flying about the third, except to wonder once more where the tribe known as Sources lives. Probably right next to the Encampment of the Insiders.

And backing this up in supreme irony, not to mention fwittery, follows this gem :

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2083821/Katy-Perry-speaks-Twitter-divorce-Russell-Brand.html

Now the focus of this article is that Katy Perry has made a clear statement that unless she says it herself it is not a fact. No Sources, no Insiders. Well, OK, she Tweeted it, but you get my point.

And – wait for it – “Sources close to told TMZ the moving process is already under way and most of [Brand’s] belongings are already out of the home”. Excuse me, WHAT was the article about again?

“Friends said the singer had asked….” Etc

“Other rumours say….” Etc

Oh stuff this, my brain is starting to hurt. Let me count :

Sources                :               1

Friends Say         :               3

Rumours Say      :               1

Reportedly         :               1

Katy, it’s a brick wall.

Sent to the Press Office of Sony Ericsson

If Chuck Norris had a phone, it would look like this.

My son is incredibly hard on mobile phones, which then seem to stay alive and keep working for him; probably out of morbid curiosity. Or possibly masochism.

He once dropped one in the toilet and, working on the 1-second rule, snatched it out again (I hasten to add he'd only gone in there to wash his hands and it shot out of his pocket when he bent to wash his face) and switched it off and on.

It worked for another two years. It did emit a gurgle with each bleep, but was entirely dependable, except as an alarm clock. In its defense, not many devices do work as alarm clocks on my son, including alarm clocks. Particularly alarm clocks.

This one has remained intact for at least a year, defying all odds, until midway through the last school term. He bent over to pet a little dog on his way from school. The phone fell out (hence some cracks) and the little dog promptly fell on it and attacked it (hence the missing bits in front and the rest of the cracks). There was a moment or two while everyone watched the dog whip the phone around, smash it down, scrabble at it with its paws and bite it; and then there was a tug-of war which my son finally won.

No-one quite knows what grudge the dog held against the phone; it's apparently usually very friendly and gentle. Perhaps it is employed by Apple.

Anyway, this time he waited until he got home and could tape the phone back together before switching it on.

It has been working fine ever since.

Anyway, I see a real opportunity for Sony Ericsson here.

You could use these pictures to demonstrate how tough your phones are.

Or you could use my son to test the same thing.

I look forward to hearing from you.