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.