Whoa, earthquake in California! No word from my sister yet…
Update: The Snook managed to reach her on the phone. I guess her office is on the ground floor so she was fairly underwhelmed. Darn her! She’s ruining the perfectly good stereotype of the transplanted Midwesterner who freaks out at her first tremor.
It’s frickin’ hot here, Mr. Bigglesworth. We finally plugged in the air conditioner two nights ago when the humidity became unbearable. I have a lovely plumber’s sunburn on my ass from gardening on Sunday. (The gap between my T-shirt and baggy cut-offs was the only place I forgot to protect.) Where’s that damn ozone layer when you need it?
Me: Hey, Russell Crowe had his baby.
Snook: Did it punch the nurse?
Women who stay single stay sane. Just a link for those who are eager to get hitched… *cough* like my sister *cough*.
Australian pharmacists are in an uproar over plans to sell ibuprofen over-the-counter. I remember the first time I tried to buy it in the UK and could only find packs of ten tablets. “Why can’t they sell bigger bottles?” I asked the Snook. “So people can’t kill themselves with it,” he replied. It’s much the same here in Oz. Meanwhile I’ve been jealously hoarding the 500-tablet bottle of Wal-Mart $7 off-brand ibuprofen I smuggled in last January. Seriously, if the stuff was going to kill me, I’d have kicked the bucket back in college.
“I definitely believe in plastic surgery,” she says. “I don’t want to be an old hag. There’s no fun in that.” And just like that, Scarlett Johansson has squandered all the goodwill I had towards her from Lost in Translation. That is the most ridiculous, fawning, simpering, bloody stupid interview I’ve ever read. I won’t insult your intelligence with her thoughts on menopause and why old men like “young, fertile, fruitful” women like her. (Memo to Scarlett: It has nothing to do with “eviction” and more to do with your ass.) She sounds like a self-important little girl playing dress-up and throwing out dime-store philosophies to justify her own exploitation. Grrr.
GAH! Less than an hour after I left the Snook at our local pub with some buddies tonight, he SMSed me to let me know that John freakin’ Eales just walked in. Seriously. I can’t believe I missed it. (For confused Americans, Eales was Australian rugby captain and won two World Cups. Think: John Elway.)
Tracey has posted a gorgeous desktop calendar for January 2004. I’m loving it! I hope she does one every month. In a similar (but not nearly so nice) vein, I’ve posted a printable 2004 Roald Dahl calendar featuring covers from his books. Between the two of us, we’ve taken care of all your organisational needs.
1. List your five favorite beverages.
Currently it’s Diet Coke, Vanilla Diet Coke, lemon iced tea, water, and beer.
2. List your five favorite websites.
Based on the time I spend on them, I’d say Glitter, MetaFilter, The Sydney Morning Herald, Television Without Pity, and Slashdot.
3. List your five favorite snack foods.
Since we started the whole low-carb thing, my snacking has changed quite a bit. Nowadays I’m more likely to be eating cheese, pickles, salami, hard-boiled eggs, and Cadbury Lite bars than chips and salsa.
4. List your five favorite board and/or card games.
Euchre, Trivial Pursuit, Monopoly, Taboo, and Egyptian Rat Screw. (That last one is an invented variation of War that my high school speech team buddies and I played throughout every meet.)
5. List your five favorite computer and/or game system games.
Ms Pac-Man, Tetris, Dr. Mario, Super Mario Bros. 3, and Minesweeper. I like the puzzle games.
More Australian Linguistic Weirdness
Today I discovered that popsicles are called “icy poles” in Australia. I nearly spat mine out.
