Working supports this blog


It’s really, really difficult harnessing enough agro to be cranky when I’m rested, awake, nourished, somewhat fitter, not worried about much and having a prolonged period of freedom from the original black dog. I’ve read some unexpectedly good books, arsed in great parking spots whenever I’ve had to drive, and the shitty things like not being able to find local Japanese restaurants that actually want to provide food fade from my grumpy storage banks before I get to jot them down.

And Guy Pearce is on the cover of The Age’s A2 lift-out today. Life is good.

source: www.theage.com.au

source: www.theage.com.au

I need to get back to work so I have a locus of shittiness again.

Added: I took a photo of the front of the A2 as it’s an even nicer picture.

Crank-o-meter: is this what they call content?

17 January 2009

A journey with the (other) black dog

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My regular walk/jog/swear/crawl route is to the end of the street, over the main road, down a long corrugation of dirt road, a lap or two around the factoryettes and, depending on energy levels, cross another main road and do a lap of a few acres of an off-leash dog park and then do it all again in reverse.

It’s generally quiet and peaceful with nothing to concentrate on except the new aches of resistance in my joints and if the music in my ears is amplifying tinnitus from too many years listening to bands in the pre-earplug days. Pure and unfettered selfish time to do my own thing before the day commences.

Yesterday, after crossing the first main road and reaching the dusty trail, company discovered me in the form of a black Labrador-cross dog with big shiny eyes and a waggy, waggy tail. She sniffed, I petted, she wiggled her bum and I threw her a pine cone. She decided I was okay and came for the trek, pine cone in her mouth and spring in our steps.

I thought she’d tire of the trip and eventually return from whence she came, but half a mile up the road and around the dog-leg corner she was still at my side like the best friend I didn’t know I had. I was getting a bit concerned because I didn’t know which house she’d come from and didn’t know where to drop her off when I returned (she had a collar but no tags). She wasn’t worried so I kept going, bouncing and worry-free black dog in tow.

She appeared to have good road sense but I avoided the trip over to the dog park and we trotted around the industrial area. She said hello to a few tradespeople parked on the side of the road (while I grumbled, um, er, she’s not on a lead because she’s not really mine but yes, she is lovely) and she checked out the enticing aroma of a barbecue at one of the factories. I kept on eye on her in case she became disoriented in the maze of gridded streets and she took joy in almost losing sight of me and bounding up like we’d done this hide and seek routine a hundred times before.

We re-joined and rounded the dog-leg corner on the way back and I wasn’t far from where she found me. I still hadn’t devised a plan to find her home; she was a girl with endurance and could have come from anywhere while my energy stores were nearing empty, I wanted to go home and we both needed a long drink of water.

Near the barrier that blocks the dirt track from the main road, I turned around and she had gone. There are three residential houses on one side and two market gardens on the other and like a mirage she had disappeared behind the fence of one of the properties as if she never existed.

The bitch. She must’ve dashed home for some water and didn’t think to invite me in.

Crank-o-meter: woof, wag, wag

13 January 2009

Busy doing nothing at all

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I had a list of all the things I was going to start and finish over my Christmas holiday. Now I’m in the twilight of my annual leave and don’t feel a sense of overwhelming achievement.

Annual check-ups and vaccinations for the animals – done. Ah ha, that’s why I can’t afford to go away. Large cat will need a professional fang clean and polish so I’m saving pennies while he’s calculating future punishment against humans.

Detail car – not done. Erm, I’ve thought about it. I need a cool, cloudy day to do the wax and polish and I’m ignoring the Bureau of Meteorology’s claims that it’s the coolest summer in years. It’s going to be 37 degrees C on Tuesday so Tuesday’s out, yes, Tuesday’s definitely out.

Get car serviced – not done. I had better ring Lou the Wonder Mechanic and see if the workshop has space for my car. This is representative of last time I was there.

there could be space on the roof

there could be space on the roof

Prepare tax return – not done. I found my pay-as-you-go summary but it’s covered in yellow stains of an unidentifiable origin. Now I can’t remember if I’m one year behind or two.

Send tax stuff to accountant to do magic on – not done. Dependent on the previous item.

Refresh web site – done. It’s a bit duller than I’d like but it’s done, done, done. I couldn’t find my Dreamweaver doorstop book and had to re-learn basic stuff like how to log in.

Start new web project – it’s happening. I hate how I can see an end vision with such gleaming clarity that the drudge work to get there is like swimming through a river of electric eels and nothing technical is going right. But it’s on the way.

Buy new work shoes and runners – not done. I have a chronic injury in the ball of my foot and all shoes hurt, unless ice packs are the ‘it’ shoe of 2009?

Make garden less like a jungle – not done. The front yard is acceptable but the back yard looks like the host site of the 2009 International Paspalum and Dandelion Show.

Watch Pride and Prejudice again (BBC version), Les Miserables (mini-series version), Californication series two and Flight of the Conchords – not done. What on earth have I been doing with my time?

Get exercise routine back on track – fucking well done! Getting addicted to those endorphins and controllable pain again (except the ball of my foot). Speaking of which, best I stop fart-arsing around with HTML style sheets and get on my bike.

Crank-o-meter: too much red, not enough green

11 January 2009

Quadrant magazine will sell out today

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Hitting the news wires last night was a story that the current issue of Quadrant magazine featured a fictionalised article about genetic engineering written by an aliased wag or wags.

The angle of the news story has changed this morning that the exercise has been a big egg-in-your-face case of revenge against editor, historian Keith Windschuttle, who has previously hit at out academics’ poor fact checking and research habits. Journalist Margaret Simons called Windschuttle with the news, while claiming she had nothing to do with the article, and every newspaper in town has been ringing current and past employees for quotes on their views.

Tee he he, someone got Keith! Who was it? Was it you? Who’s in on this? OMG! OMFG!

What fun!

Oh, hang on, someone forgot about the readers. You know, those people who have handed over money for a copy of a magazine and paid for the expectation of accuracy.

I am inclined to think revenge on this scale was cooked up by more than one person – a science story written by a previously unpublished writer surely wouldn’t go straight to the acceptance pile without a bit of help along the way – and many of the references and footnotes used in the article were, indeed, genuine so the story itself wasn’t a hoax but an elaborate twisting and re-working of existing and invented research that would have required skilled hands.

Whether the trusting readers find out who’s messing with their news is another story: who’s going to ‘out’ the guilty if they’re on the payroll?

Crank-o-meter: shaking my head

7 January 2009

The home vet versus the pharmacist


There are two types of pharmacy where I live:

-The kind staffed by people who ask questions about symptoms and product allergies before making recommendations (upside – they care, downside – I can’t stand talking to the posse of 16-year-old after-school employees at the counter who will not accept, “Just give me something for thrush NOW, I know what it is and I’m not answering any more fucking questions because I’ve been around the block a few times now and I know WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG. Give me something before my fanny explodes right here in front of you.” Crankyville is serviced mainly by these businesses and I use them when I need advice and knowledge and don’t feel like dying through self diagnosis.

-The other is the mega-super-plex of pharma godliness with rows and rows of pills and lotions and inhalants lining the towering aisles, and I can stack a basket with enough stuff to kill everyone in my street in a different way and everything is scanned with a smile and no questions asked. This place is a longer drive so I save it for the occasional re-stocking of the medicine box and when I can’t be arsed justifying why I want enough kit to manufacture DIY meth derivatives on my barbecue.

I was thinking about this yesterday because the larger dog and I shared a Zyrtec as we were both sniffling miserably with allergies. That day it almost worth paying for a ticket to witness the debate I had at the pharmacy to buy anti-histamines for my dog.

Person at chemist: “Will you consider this other brand?”

Me: “No, I’ve done my research and this one is not toxic for dogs.”

Person at chemist: “I’m sorry, is this for a … dog?”

Me: “Yes, he gets allergies and I don’t want him having cortisone regularly.”

Person at chemist: “They’re for a dog?”

Me: “Is there an echo in here? Yes, it’s completely fine, I have spoken to the vet and he’s okayed a trial and even suggested a dosage. I am not self prescribing, I promise I’m a responsible pet owner.”

Person at chemist: Looks rather alarmed but wants me out of the place and takes his hand off the packet

There was also the day I wanted eye drops for the brown cat. A horsie friend recommended a product called Golden Eye for mild conjunctivitis, and it was popular with the elderly (humans) as well, she said, so gentle and safe all round. So off I popped to the pharmacy again.

Person at chemist: “Golden Eye, gosh that was re-named a long time ago. Do you mean Brolene?”

Me: “That’ll be the one. Can I have a bottle please?”

Person at chemist: “Is it for you?”

Me: “Well, not technically. It’s for my cat.”

Person at chemist: “Your cat?” Peers over her glasses with alarm

Me: “She has a mild, stress-related eye thing sometimes. I am out of the anti-bacterial drops the vet prescribes and I want something in the interim. A friend with horses recommended this and it’s fine for use on animals.”

Person at chemist: “Have you booked the cat for a vet appointment?”

Me: “Yes, but I know what’s wrong and I want some relief for her asap.”

Person at chemist: “You do realise you should see the vet?”

Me: “I am, I have! Why does no one believe me?”

I finally left with the Brolene and it works a treat on both of us!

The cat in the (gardening) hat

The cat in the (gardening) hat

And, of course, there’s the day the big meezer cat rocked up with a hole in his ear, like he’d been jousting another cat with knitting needles. Once I’d recovered from the eww factor, I knew I could fix the hole as it was in the thin upper part of his ear away from the bigger blood vessels.

Me: Marvelling at the multitude of fun-looking bandages and wound care products — almost as enjoyable as shopping for stationery

Person at chemist: “Can I help you?”

Me: “Yes, please. My cat must’ve lost a fight and has a hole in his ear and I need some spray to seal the wound.”

Person at chemist: “You’re here about your cat?”

Me: “Yes, I’ve made a vet appointment just in case, but I know how to heal this injury.”

Person at chemist: Looks suspicious, like I’m on the Crimebusters poster “I don’t really know what to recommend. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Me: “I’ve got the iodine wads and I need some silvery spray that’ll seal the wound. Yes, I have four cats and two dogs that go out of their way to scare me, and I know the symptoms of infection. Oh look, here it is, I’ll take this, thank you very much for your help, bye.”

Meezer cat did not like the spray one bit, but his ear sealed cleanly. Madame brown cat has clear and healthy eyes and the big dog’s belly isn’t an angry red any more. They’re all booked for their immunisations and check-ups next week because I do know my limits (then I get the vet nurses laughing at the two oversized carry cages bearing four yowling felines – but bulk exams are discounted!).

Crank-o-meter: sometimes I know what I’m doing

5 January 2009