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Remember that fatty-boom-batty breakfast we had at Una’s yesterday? In a lovely bit of foodblog coincidence, Grab Your Fork went there this very morning and photographed the Snook’s exact breakfast. Can’t you just smell the rosti?

What’s your Cheese Profile? Okay, that’s officially the stupidest quiz ever. None of the answers for “What do you like best about your job?” remotely applied to me, nor do the types of car I drive. So I just made them up. And guess what? I’m “The Family Wo(Man)”, whatever that means. Shockingly, they do not list cottage cheese with my cheese profile. Instead I get Cheddar, Colby, Colby Jack, Havarti, Monterey Jack, and Swiss. You know, I like all of those, but all this stupid quiz did was mind me that you can’t get Colby Jack or Monterey Jack in Australia, and now I’m all frustrated. Thanks, American Dairy Association.

If any of you Southerners are thinking of going to Dragon*Con in Atlanta next month… you totally should, if only because you can then say “hi” to my good friend (and Farscape alum) Raelee Hill, and it would blow my mind that you paid money to go to a sci-fi convention to meet someone I work with three times a week. And tell her you’re a friend of mine. 🙂

So ND Australia has officially opened its office… about 50m around the corner from my house. Seriously, it’s like the Fates have decreed that I should always live within easy distance of a Notre Dame campus. It still blows my mind that they’re here. The office even has pictures of students frollicking in front of the Golden Dome. It’s weird.

Anyway, after a fatty-boom-batty (but oh so delicious) breakfast at Una’s this morning, we stopped in at the ND office to have a peek. We were greeted by a nice Australian lady named Susannah. I explained that I was an actual US Notre Dame graduate and that I lived in the neighbourhood. She gave us some details on their progress – everything’s in place for a February 2006 semester start; Father Beauchamp is in town helping out; etc. I asked nonchalantly if there were any employment opportunities available. “Oh, are you interested in lecturing?” she asked. EEK! She actually gave me the contact information for the Dean of the Arts College so I could talk to him about it. While I was chatting to her, the Snook was looking over some of the brochures and information sheets they had available. “Holy crap,” he said. “You have to see the tuition costs.” Expecting something comparable to the US tuition (which is astronomical), I picked up the sheet only to see a full-time yearly cost of $5000. That’s Australian dollars. Plus degrees here only last three years, so for a full Notre Dame degree you’re looking at approximately $11,400 US. HOW INSANE IS THAT? It’s only slightly more than you’d pay at a public university in Australia. Since it’s private, students are not eligible for HECS, but there is a government loan scheme that all students can get. (Me: “You mean they don’t care how much money your parents make? They don’t make you jump through hoops and sign your life away? You don’t have to pay any of it back until you’re making $36,000 a year?”) So now I’m actually thinking about… maybe going back to school. Currently the only postgrad course they have is a Masters of Education, but they’re planning to add more. Plus they have a BA in Communication, specializing in computers and the internet. How sweet would that be? I just don’t know if they’d let me do it though, given that I already have a BA. (Can you do more than one?) My head is whirling right now.

Extra has a teaser trailer for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Man, I am developing such a crush on Daniel Radcliffe as Harry. (Link courtesy of Kevin.)

This has been my day for dealing with dipsh*ts. It’s been like an eight-hour version of the “stupid customer” montage from Clerks. People who are pissing me off today:

• People with no creativity or imagination, like the woman who spent twenty minutes repeatedly asking me about every minute detail of our store sample, because she wanted her cross-stitch to look EXACTLY the same. Eventually I ended up on a chair trying to count the holes per inch on a piece of linen in a framed design ten feet up on the wall.
• People who expect me to mind-read, like the woman who came in and asked for “tapestries that are French” for her friend, when what she really wanted was “cross-stitch kits” that are “pale in colour.” I only figured that out after tearing my hair out and showing her every French canvas we have in the shop.
• People who don’t know what the hell they’re doing, like the woman who bought a Zhivago pattern book and bunch of wool on the weekend but can’t get any of the patterns to work, despite the fact that “they’re very simple” and “she’s a really good knitter,” yet somehow after a few rows she’s always missing stitches. So obviously Zhivago is some kind of magic wool where perfectly knit stitches just DISAPPEAR.

And then there were the usual assortment of idiots asking for things we obviously don’t sell – velcro, a pin for a pocket watch, quilling supplies – and country mice visiting the big city who freak out when they see our prices. It’s been a loooong day.

I know I shouldn’t base my whole emotional state on the outcome of my Weight Watchers meetings, but still whenever I see a “minus” written next to my name, it’s like I’ve just taken a swig of Felix Felicis. The sun is shining on me and I can do no wrong. I’ve bounced back from my tiny gain two weeks ago – I missed last week due to sickness – to register another kilo loss. This brings me down to eighty-seven kilos. People, this is as low as I ever got on the Atkins diet, and thus is the smallest I’ve been since college. That’s NUTS. My next mini-goal is eighty-five, for which I’ve promised myself a reward of a new pair of Crocs and some new pants (since all the pairs I own now are falling off my arse).

This BBC article on proposed changes to prescription drug advertising in the US amused me, mostly because the situation is so different in Australia. You’re not allowed to mention the name of any prescription drug in commercials here; the ads can only urge you to “ask your doctor.” So in order to differentiate themselves, advertisers often resort to repeating the same word over and over, like that’s the keyword that the doctor will recognize. “If you want to BOOST your weight loss, ask your doctor about the amazing new treatment that will BOOST your metabolism and BOOST you to better health. BOOST now for a BOOSTful future.” I’m sure the drug’s called “Boostillin” or something.

Man, I really wish Lefty Tim had taken out Big Brother this year, if only for the chance to see a BB winner strutting around Newtown. And man, he got muscles!