ms crankypants

I feed them twice a day. Promise.

Rabid dog steals wrappers from bin

Burmese cat partakes in raw oats. Mmm, tasty

Crank-o-meter: they eat better than I

March 29th, 2009 | Tags: animals are fun | Category: animals are fun | Comments (4)

I’m rebuilding the parts of my laptop computer that weren’t chucked in the bin and mashed into the wall and its resurrection is progressing slowly but well. I advise against re-installing wireless modemy internet connection thingoes when wracked with gout pain (oh, me achin’ GOUT!), a generous dose of PMT and an episode of depression because the combined elements are why I don’t keep guns and have nothing sharper than a pillow in the house.

Anyway, I see enough of Outlook’s e-mail interface during working hours and dumped Thunderbird as my home e-mail software and needed to install something new. After a week of asking Eudora to retrieve my messages (it would throw but not fetch) and some terse exchanges with my ISP’s tech support, I’m kind of adjusting to the quirky way Eudora software does e-mail business.

I’m a huge fan of the ‘chilli’ feature, though. See the little column of chillis? I couldn’t work out what they signified until I got into an e-mail argument with someone (yeah, yeah, I know, only dickheads win arguments over the internetz).

The chillis denote mood based on language in the e-mail. No chillis indicates polite communication and three is the usual crap I churn out.

The warning from the outgoing message police is a pearler!

Crank-o-meter: washing my mouth with soap

March 27th, 2009 | Tags: technology | Category: technology | Comments (5)

Growing up in this part of the world, the occasional Sunday family things to do were go to the Frankston trash’n'treasure, head off to a day at Leisureland on the outskirts of Frankston or perhaps go to the Caribbean Gardens somewhere out in the far eastern suburbs (it’s like Paddy’s Market in Sydney or any giant emporium of imported cheap shit in any other city with only five different kinds of crap but a thousand stalls selling it).

I haven’t been to Frankston trash’n'treasure (or the ‘market’ in marketing positive speak) for years because I don’t need acrylic socks or a bogus Mickey Mouse watch and Leisureland was turned into housing years ago. The Caribbean Gardens, I’m pleased to report, is alive and well and crappy as ever!

I went on a Sunday morning drive with my mother and brother as a get out of the house activity and to look for a computer bit at the weekly swap meet (any more embarrassing confessions of my latent nerdiness here and I’ll have to change my name by deed poll).

The in-car conversation was worthy of The Castle. How long since you’ve been there, Nicole? Dunno, seem to remember Zig and Zag being there once, so whenever that was. Oh, that would be more than 20 years ago? Shut up.

Michelangelo (the boy alpaca) is going to be a father! How do you know? Ebony (girl alpaca) spat at him. Is that how they tell you they’re pregnant? Yes! Cool, I’m going to pretend I’m pregnant and spit at people.

The place hasn’t changed much with its primary-coloured mushroomy tables and chairs and a bizarre little train scooting about the place. I got my $2.50 entrance fee worth of entertainment when a woman said over the public address system: “Would the owner of car number plated [ABC-123] please return to your vehicle because your children are still inside. I repeat, car [ABC-123] you have locked your children inside your car. Can you please return to your vehicle.”

Another family debate ensued. I thought that happened only at the casino? Obviously not. Why didn’t they call the police? Didn’t want to attract unwanted attention, I guess. Oh.

I bought a packet of Dutch biscuits for $3 and three breadsticks with cheese for $5, and I stole a bag of apples from mum’s apple tree when we returned. Bonus.

Crank-o-meter: full of Dutch biscuity goodness

March 23rd, 2009 | Tags: embarrassing stuff, entertainment | Category: embarrassing stuff, entertainment | Comments (8)

Owwwwwwwwww (referring to both the pain in my foot — which is indeed gout — and the discomfort you’re experiencing seeing my pisspoor drawing).

The computer hates me and you’ll have to click on the image to enlarge.

Crank-o-meter: how does such a little thing hurt so much?

March 19th, 2009 | Tags: gout girl, health | Category: gout girl, health | Comments (8)

The good news is that mum’s specialist is 95% certain that all the cancer was removed from her bowel. She will have quarterly check-ups for the next couple of years but he’s content and she seems relieved (though the shock of her looking to have aged a decade in the past month is messing with my naive dream that my parents won’t get old and die eventually). I’m thankful beyond expression though.

Thank you for all your support and good wishes. They mean so much. I haven’t been around the blog traps much lately as I’m in a bit of a depressive hole and don’t have much useful (or even useless) stuff to say but I am thinking of you.

I had a variety of tests done last weekend and have been called to the doctor’s office this Tuesday “for a couple of things.” I know one result will be if I can indeed claim the title of Gout Girl; haven’t a clue about what else is waiting for me because I didn’t read and understand all the abbreviations on the pathology slip. I just pissed a lot and had many vials of blood extracted and had some sticky things and wires poking from my abdomen and chest for the ECG (how cool the electronic noises of that machine could be sent down the phone line to the lab!).

I was creating a new superhero called Gout Girl and she was going to star in her own cartoon, however, I can’t draw for shit. Her intro theme was going to be Gout Gir-rl in tune with the Countdow-owwn theme and Gout Girl, her sidekick Gammy Foot, and brainstrust Pickles the Burmese Mastermind were ridding the world of crime and eliminating bad juju like ugg boots and people who tailgate while driving.

brainstorming session between crimewaves

See the bulbous ghastliness on the ball of my right foot? Hurties. Gout Girl isn’t terribly capable of ridding the world of fuckers who fling cigarette butts out of car windows when she can only spin on the left foot, which leaves the weakly right foot incapable of kicking with any strength. If she makes contact with the suspect, she squeals, “Ow, Gammy Foot, stop hurting so much, ouch ouch ouch,” and hops from the crime scene while swearing like a series of Gordon Ramsay outtakes in fast forward.

Crank-o-meter: we’ll see

March 15th, 2009 | Tags: health | Category: health, human behaviour | Comments (8)

I toddled along to the Avalon International Air Show during the week to hug some trees, get in touch with nature and embrace my inner hippie.

You should have seen the quizzical looks on aerospace and weaponry reps’ faces when asked about carbon offsets for their individually air conditioned corporate tents (which I wasn’t allowed into, and was quite — no, truly — content in the great outdoors feeling the sunscreen bubble around my toes).

For temporary relief from the sun, I wandered into an industry display in a large shed and may have possessed the only set of breasts in the place. Killing has always been men’s business, even today when the many creative ways to destroy and main are promoted with dinky show bags containing stress balls, laser pointers and nifty little torches. Discuss our enemy target detection software system and get a yellow plastic pen — hurrah, yellow is such a cheering colour!

The food outlets were fewer and unhealthier than last time I visited, shaded rest areas were almost non-existent and there appeared to be fewer aircraft on display and opened to poke around and have a look. The new vodka slushy machine appealed but I’m not allowed to drink during work hours — awww, but the slushy stand had a shade sail and chairs! The air displays before my departure were mainly civil aircraft and demonstrations such as aerobatics, gliding and a chap flying about for a few seconds propelled by hydrogen peroxide (doesn’t explode, but stand near Jet Man if you want blonde hair, the MC announced. Indeed!)

I received the call to leave at the same time the circa-1970s F-16 super dooper arse-whomping fighting plane prowled along the tarmac. After the first howling crack of the speed of sound being battered into submission (and making a goose of myself dropping everything in my hands because the aural assault nearly startled the pants off me), I had to creep backwards to watch the jet while making a token effort of returning to the car park.

The F-16 soared and dove and twisted and made mockery of gravity and physics and didn’t fly but blasted particles out of its way. I believe it hoons about at up to 1,500 miles per hour (I refuse to believe the high number when converted into kilometres) but can almost hover at a 15-degree angle pointing towards the sky and land in the same space as a joyride plane. Amid the awed spectators and confusing mind trick of the sight moving faster than its ear-pulverising sound, I forgot to ponder how much fuel the aircraft was slurping as it made our jaws drop.

Source: www.richard-seaman.com (i kid you not)

Crank-o-meter: i’m a big fat hypo-hypo-crit, sing along with me. hypo-hypo-hypo …

March 13th, 2009 | Tags: environment | Category: environment | Comments (8)

Went to the doctor’s yesterday morning and going to the pathologist’s now because of a mysterious swollen toe joint that makes walking, sleeping and not killing people a challenge. What the fuck is gout anyway? Dr Google says it mainly affects men and women over menopausal age. Fuck you, Dr Google, I want a more glamorous disease.

The cloud of depression is hovering and telling me to misbehave and have less than normal regard for my self respect and personal safety. Hmm, some days I want to let it loose, do what it says and see what happens. Dr Not Google asked if I was suicidal.  I said I toyed with the concept but my apathy was far more dominant than my motivation and I’m a laughably low risk.

I was sent an avalanche of bushfire and weather warnings on my mobile phones but no fucker told me about the semi-naked fire fighter demonstration. Thanks a lot, sisterhood.

Source: www.theage.com.au

Crank-o-meter: ouch stupid old lady foot hurts

March 7th, 2009 | Tags: health, shittypants | Category: health, shittypants | Comments (14)