Miranda Devine, you're a complete asshat...

I've long thought your unintelligible right-wing ramblings were annoying, but this one just shows how ignorant you really are.

This story (the bottom one about the pregnant man) makes me very angry. Who is she to tell people the photo of the pregnant Thomas Beatie is "repulsive"? Putting aside whether the story is true or not, I actually didn't feel revulsion looking at the photo. I was intrigued. I wondered what implications this had for the world, but in a good way. It made me think, not want to throw up. I disagree that society isn't ready for such a thing. I didn't have any knee-jerk reactions when I first read about Beatie. I simply thought, "Well, that's new." I'm sure many others thought the same thing.

Repulsive? Meh.

And what the fuck is Miranda's point that Thomas has just proven he is still female? It's like she's taking that as some sort of victory for the anti-gay/transgender/etc group, to which she obviously belongs. Who the fuck cares if he is still technically female? If he wants to live as a male, regardless of whether Miranda thinks this is "pretend", then let him. If that's what makes him happy, who are we to step in and say otherwise? And to repeatedly call Thomas "she" throughout the article is just plain disrespectful. Saying that no matter how "hairy or freaky looking" Thomas becomes in transforming into a man, he will never be a man because he doesn't have a Y chromosome, because this "is reserved for males, "an individual of the sex that produces sperm"" just makes me want to punch her. How fucking ignorant and intolerant!

Then there's the part that really makes my blood boil - "by turning her pregnancy into a political act, she invites censure". What the fuck?! How does this invite censure? And for what reason should he be censured? There's absolutely nothing wrong with what Thomas has done. So he's a female-male transsexual who got pregnant (if the story is true). So what? I, for one, honestly do not give a shit. I do, however, care that the SMH let Miranda continue to print this particular brand of intolerant ranting. I really do think I will cheer the day she is knocked down a peg or 1,000.

I don't have a mental illness, so nya!

Yay! I'm safe! I hate text messages, and almost never respond to emails, especially when the person can't type properly. Plus, it's generally easier to just pick up the phone and speak for 5 minutes than to send a billion texts or emails back and forth.

I do, however, get very annoyed if I'm not connected to the internet. I have an obsessive need to read the news every 2 seconds, and I get annoyed if nothing new or interesting has been reported during the day. So perhaps I'm not so safe!

Things that are irritating me

- People who say "any/every/some/nothink". It's a 'g' you retards, not a 'k'! Send them to gaol (yes, we're in Australia, it's spelled "gaol" not "jail").

- SMS-speak. I've spoken about this before. I hate it. There is no point to it. It's just plain laziness. Learn to fucking touch type you retards.

- Charities harassing people on the street. See previous post.

- Scooters and scooter riders. Or at least those who think because they're not going faster than 60kph, they don't need to learn to ride a bike, or wear safety gear. My fsm, scooter riders shit me. I pray they'll fall off in the middle of traffic and have to get their skin debrided. Then they might learn that riding a scooter in traffic is exactly the same as riding a motorbike, and it might actually be a good idea to wear proper safety gear, and possibly learn not to ride on the road markings.

- The 'verbing' of nouns. Ugh.

- 'Your' instead of 'you're' and the transposing of their/they're/there and too/two/to. It's not that difficult. This is basic 3rd grade stuff. Stop being a dick and get it right.

- Not to mention apostrophes. It's not that difficult to remember the rules and use them correctly. My mother is the worst one. I'm always correcting her emails. That's not right. She's older. She should know better.

- Fucking stupid bogans who call me and end every sentence as if they're asking a question. "Hi?! This is Madisyghhpsngndon (pronounced "Madison" if you couldn't tell)? I'm calling from Telstra?". Ugh. You do not need to inflect up at the end of every fucking sentence, you twat.

- Naming your child something "unique". I think we should take a leaf from China's book. A set list of names available, no weird spellings. Excellent idea. Although "unique" names, like personalised number plates on cars, are a great way of picking those that weaken the gene pool. Easier to organise a "cleansing" I suppose.

- The receptionists at Fitness First who call me by my first name after they've swiped my card and looked at my name. If you don't know me, then don't address me. Simple. Do not say, "Hi!" then process my card and say, "Thanks Angelina!" as if you know me. Insincerity irritates me.

- TT/ACA and any bogans that watch this crap and actually believe it.

- Ignorance.

- Not dressing to your body type. I swear if I have to see one more obese chick wearing a mini skirt, I'm going to go postal. The same can be said for people who wear the latest fashions who really shouldn't. Maxi dresses are apparently in at the moment, but you won't catch me wearing one, because they look hideous on me. Everyone else needs to develop the same objectiveness. Sometimes, I'd really love to start another blog, and just have photos of the horrible fashion disasters I see in the city. No commentary or anything, because the photos would speak for themselves. Too bad I have a job. That would be a great pastime if I were unemployed.

- Any film with Catherine Zeta Jones in it.

- Will Ferrell. I fucking hate him with a passion. Not funny.

- Saying/writing "literally" when you don't know the definition. "I literally laughed my head off." Oh did you? Must have been fun.

- Saying dry-reach. It's "retch" you retards!

- Writing could/should/would "of" - it's "have"! Again, this is basic third grade grammar. It's not that difficult, people.

- Cricket. So boring even birds sleep on the field. Small mercy that it's finished now. But I don't like football much more.

- Leggings.

- Wedges. As in shoes.

- The dickhead "personal trainer" at my gym who really should not be a PT. He is a fat lump of lard, and walks around sucking his gut in and pushing his chest out, and holding his arms out slightly as if he has massive biceps. My fsm that dude irritates me. You are not "built"! You are fat! Stop walking around as if you're all muscle!

- "Friends" who never return emails, calls, etc. That's it. I've culled you. Not that you read this, so you'll have no idea. But I'm sick of trying to be a good friend to you when I get nothing in return. Yes, you've had a hard time of things lately, but it's been over a year since I saw you last, and I'm giving up.

- Those stupid mobile phone ads on TV. Is anyone actually stupid enough to text their details to these things, and thus get charged $2 per message? Those things really should be illegal.

- In-laws. I have had a great relationship with every previous boyfriend's parents, especially their mothers. So what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you always so miserable? Why do you insist on making conversations so difficult? It's like trying to extract teeth.

- People who add me on Facebook and then don't interact with me. If you add me and haven't interacted within 2 weeks, that's it, you're getting deleted. I don't condone friend collecting. In fact, my list of blocked people on Facebook is longer than my list of friends.

- People who post photos of me on Facebook without asking me. If I wanted my photo up there, I'd put it up myself, wouldn't I? So don't get all shitty with me and act like I'm being the unreasonable one when I ask you to delete my photo from your album. I don't want photos of me all over the internet. Simple.

- Trying to find a replacement for me in my job for when I go travelling at the end of this year. This position is pretty full on - early starts (before 7.00am), working through lunch hours, no days off allowed (unless you're practically dying), doing everything that's asked of you, even if it's outside the scope of the job description. Apparently some people think this type of work is objectionable. Despite the massively fat paycheck they would receive for their efforts, which more than compensates for the conditions.

And that's all I can think of for now. I'm sure there are many others, however. So, what's bugging you right now? Self-righteous, judgemental bloggers, perhaps? Tee hee.

So tired

I think I need a holiday to recover from my long weekend. I did so much work around the house, it was crazy. It took me 6 hours just to clean the house on Friday, and that didn't include the washing, which I only started at 4pm. Saturday was more cleaning, doing my garden and organising for a barbeque that night. William's parents and sister came over. My fsm they irritate me. And I can never cook anything nice when they come over because his mother has some phantom health issues. They don't exist. I caught her eating great big globs of whipped cream at Christmas time (when she thought no one was looking), even though she says she can't have any fat, or she gets really sick. I swear the next time they come over, I'm going to cook up something full of butter and cream and tell them it's low fat. I guarantee she won't get sick. It's all for attention.

Sunday morning I started a 1000 piece puzzle of an island on the ocean (party time at Angelina's house!). By 7pm, I had practically finished the whole thing. And we'd gone out to the movies during the day, too. I took a photo and sent it to Miss Giggles, who told me I was insane. Probably doesn't help that she's had a puzzle sitting unfinished under her bed since Christmas! I had completed it (with help from William) by the next morning. Next up is a 2000 piece one of Neuschwanstein Castle.

Yesterday William and I went up to Mt Glorious for a picnic and to walk through the rainforest. Yes, you read correctly. Walk. In the rainforest. With nature. And flat shoes. Ugh. It was somewhat pleasant, because there was a path which meant I didn't actually have to touch too much nature stuff. Except for the mud. Which some immense fatties in front of us were churning up by stomping through like 4wds. We gave up about 15 minutes in and turned around. I did get some nice photos though. William asked if I would agree to give camping with him a try. I laughed. And then laughed some more. I do not camp.

So yeah. Apart from William's parents coming over, the weekend was pretty good.

Not so good for my neighbours, however. They went away after throwing out their flatmate (he apparently became violent after taking steroids) and came back to find a massive human shit on their doorstep. Complete with the toilet paper their ex-flatmate used to wipe his arse. How disgusting is that? I couldn't help but correct the guy when he came to ask us if we'd seen anything. "I'm probably going to reach when I clean it up." "Reach?" "Yeah, you know, throw up." "Oh! Retch. R-e-t-c-h. Reach is something you do with your arm." He just looked at me. I couldn't help myself. Saying "dry-reach" should be illegal.

VSU still gets my vote

This is a very interesting article.

Just for some background, I have been a university student for the past 7 years (shut up! I'm doing 3 separate degrees! It takes a while!). 6 of those years have been as a part time student/full time worker. The first year that I went full time to uni, I was on campus for about 15 hours a week. I came from a small town outside the main city and no one else from my school went on to university. I didn't know anyone at uni, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't all that interested in making friends. To me, university is for education, not for parties and protests.

Even that first year I resented paying the compulsory student union fee. I didn't participate in any clubs. I didn't use any of the student services (it was a lot cheaper to buy food at Woolworths/Coles and bring it to uni to eat than buy it at the Refec, where they charge airport prices). I didn't play any sport. I didn't drink, so I didn't buy subsidised drinks at the uni bar. Nothing. To me, those hundreds of dollars a semester were a complete waste.

However, I wasn't that annoyed about it because it was my choice not to use the services. I was a full time student (although I did work 2 days a week). I had 3 days in which I could be on campus and participate in things. So, I only had myself to blame for not making the most of my money.

And then I started working full time and only going to night classes at uni. All of the student services were closed by 5. No Refec, no Copy Shop, no club rooms, nothing. The campus was deserted, and there was nothing open, besides the lecture/tutorial rooms. So why was I still being charged hundreds of dollars a semester? The rate was slightly reduced for a part time student, but it was still a ridiculous sum of money. Particularly when now I wasn't even given the opportunity to make the most of my money.

I was even more annoyed when I found out the money the student union received was largely spent on wages for their own staff, and on protests. I hate protests. I don't think they achieve anything. They're a waste of time and energy, unless you can get a whole city to stop work and join in, which is virtually unheard of these days. I resented that these dreadlocked, pyjama pants wearing, tree hugging hippies were using my money to hire buses to ship themselves and 30 friends to various pointless protests that didn't even make the news.

Still, the fees were compulsory. The uni wouldn't release your results if you didn't pay the fees. So I kept paying and kept resenting them.

And then along came the only thing John Howard ever did that I actually cheered for. I hated that man. And I hated Brendon Nelson even more for his education report in 2002 (I think it was?). He was responsible for pushing up the cost of each of my degrees by 25%. Still, the best thing was VSU. I was, and still am, all for it. Finally, someone was making sense. Yes, why should I pay hundreds of dollars a semester for services I have no access to? Why should I be forced to support the [insert minority here] Club where I wasn't allowed access to it, even if I was a full time student? Which brings me to another sore point - where are all the White Men Aged 18 to 45 Clubs? That group is the most disadvantaged, discriminated group in this country, and it irritates me. But that's a rant for another day.

Anyway, VSU was implemented. I cheered that I was no longer being forced to pour money down the drain.

And now the unis are crying that they're having to cut services. Surely that means, if there aren't enough students willing to pay to use said services, that the services just aren't required? Obviously, there were a lot of token clubs, societies and services on offer before that were only attracting a handful of students, being propped up by compulsory student union fees. If students think a service is particularly helpful (such as, say, the Copy Shop), they'll pay for it. Simple.

Perhaps a lot of students were simply using the services because they were forced to pay for them anyway, so they might as well get their money's worth? Perhaps now they're not being forced to pay for them, they can concentrate more on getting an education?

Personally, I still can't see a problem with VSU. Universities are for education, not for parties and protests. I personally could not care less whether my university has any sporting teams, social functions or other clubs/societies. I don't care if my uni campus becomes a sterile place. "To get good learning outcomes you need to feel part of a community". What utter bullshit! I get great learning outcomes, and I barely talk to anyone at uni (and generally when I do, I'm being forced to by way of a group assignment). I don't go to university to socialise. I go to learn.

Argh!

I realise how very awful this post is going to sound, but I need to rant.

I recently had to do a group assignment. A presentation to the class, no less, which I hate. I don't know anyone at uni because I only ever go to classes at night and I don't talk to anyone. So when group assignments are on, I inevitably search for other loners to join. This particular time, I sought out a capable looking girl in the row behind me. We were just about to look for another member when two international students asked if they could join us. Of course we said yes, because you can't really say no in that situation. I would have liked to, however.

My experience with Asian international students has not been a good one. I cannot for the life of me work out why the university lets them study there when they can't articulate a basic sentence in English. Their writing is terrible, and their speaking isn't much better. Whenever I've been in groups with them before, I've basically had to do all of their work for them, because they can't write properly (unless they copy the sentences directly out of a book, and then don't reference them, so I have to go back through all of the bloody books trying to find the citations). And the degree is one where not only basic English is required to articulate the theories, but a whole other vocabulary is needed too. I have noticed that the international students really struggle, because they can't grasp the definition of these things.

I resent having to do all of the work when in group assignments, and I'm willing to cut international students some slack, but I still just don't understand why they're allowed to come and study when they can't speak/write proper English. It frustrates me. I speak Spanish, but it's certainly not fluent, and I wouldn't want to go to a uni in Spain and thrust myself into a group and bring them all down. It's just not fair.

Anyway, we did the presentation. After I had rewritten both the international students' parts (and don't even get me started on the lack of participation from the "capable" girl). I got the marks back. We were just shy of failing. Why? Because the lecturer couldn't understand what on earth the international students were babbling about.

How is that fair? Why should my mark be reduced because the uni let them in when they can't fucking speak English? Why should all members of the group suffer? The written work was fine (after I'd rewritten it all, of course), but we almost failed because of the international students. I'm just so fucking pissed off about it!

Now I have to make sure I practically get 7s in the mid semester and final exams, because that presentation was worth 25%! Ugh. I'm just so fucking over it. What the fuck is the point of group assignments anyway? Yes, yes, I know, to learn to work in a group. But it's not like that in the real world. You're not lumped in with a group of people who have completely different schedules and forced to find an hour or two to meet up on a weekend. You're not lumped into a group where the other people don't know what the fuck they're talking about. You're at work with people in the real world for 8 hours a day. It's a lot easier to schedule time to work on projects. And people assigned to projects are usually assigned because they can contribute significantly to said project. It's a completely different situation.

In the meantime, I think I will be asking for a review of my grade for that presentation. I resent being marked down because those two girls couldn't speak English correctly. How is that my fault? Why should my grades suffer? And I think I'm just going to be fucking rude and say, "No, sorry, I'd rather not be in a group with you" if approached by international students in future.

I don't get it

I've been vaguely interested in the story of New York's governor, and his fall from grace via a prostitute.

It's made me think. Why is prostitution illegal? I really can't see anything wrong with it, myself. I mean, obviously prostituting someone else is wrong, because no one should have their liberty taken away, but what's wrong with a person deciding to sell themselves or their services? I don't get it.

I wouldn't do it myself, of course, because I don't find the idea of having sex with fat, ugly, old men appealing, regardless of how much they pay me. But I still don't see why it should be illegal if it's the person's choice.

What do you think? Any logical reasons it should be illegal?

Gross out time

So, on the topic of disgusting sexual encounters, I have one of my own to share.

I have never told anyone this story, because frankly it's just so embarrassing. I can't believe I'm even going to write about it now. Oh well. Here goes...

So, I had met this dude on the internet (as I do). We arranged to meet for dinner one night. It was dark when we met, and we went to a Tibetan restaurant where the light was poor. He had also bought a white wine that was actually not disgusting (I don't like the taste of wine, plus there's an additive in most of them that gives me migraines - I wish I could remember what this one was called so I could buy some more). So I had a few glasses. We walked through the city and ended up at my office building, so I took him upstairs to show him the view from my boss's office. And no, we didn't do it in my boss's office, you weirdos! We just kissed and stuff.

I thought, in my drink induced/dark night haze that he was a bit alright. So we arranged to meet up again.

I met him again a few days later. In the day time. My god, wasn't I horrified! Dude was u-g-l-y!! He was so repulsive I really wanted to just say, "Look, it was nice meeting you. Have fun!" and run off. But I couldn't. I felt horrible and superficial for judging him on his looks. I mean, he seemed like a nice guy after all. So I thought I would give it a go.

Dude was obsessed with me. I met his parents. I met his friends. In the space of 2 weeks. They all said, "Wow, he must really like you. He never introduces us to anyone!" Which didn't help me at all, because I was secretly planning a way out, and those comments were just making me feel worse.

And then he booked us an hotel room (he still lived with his parents - ugh). I don't know what was going on with him, but apparently I am intimidating. He put a condom on, and he was trying to get things going, but then stopped and said it wasn't working. I was actually relieved, because I have no idea why I agreed to have sex with him to start with. I didn't even like him!

And that's when things got confusing. I know he put the condom on. I saw him. But he just kept lying in bed afterwards and I didn't see him try to take it off. I got up and walked to the other side of the bed, and it wasn't on the floor, or in the bin, or anything. I wondered what on earth was going on. Was he lying there with it still on his flaccid dick? Gross! I didn't care enough to ask, however. If dude wants to go to sleep with a latex sock on his dick, that's his business. So I went to sleep as well.

I got up the next morning to go to work. I said goodbye. And then I never spoke to him again. I stopped answering his calls, text messages and emails. I think he knew I was going to, because he had a look on his face when I left that morning.

And then, a couple of weeks later, it was that time of the month. And this is where things get gross. I went to the bathroom at work to change my tampon (oh, grow up! there's no other way to say it!). And as I'm sure every girl does, I had a bit of a peek just to see how "heavy" things were. And there, stuck to the side was this great big glob of something. I was shocked. I'd never seen anything like it before. For a split second the thought went through my head that maybe I had been pregnant and had just miscarried a foetus or something. So, although this is totally gross, I had a closer look. No, I didn't bring it up near my face or anything! Disgusting! I just sort of bent down closer.

It was the condom. It had been there for about 2 and a half weeks. How foul is that?!

Why the fuck didn't he tell me he'd lost it? He said, "Um, this isn't working, sorry. I don't know why. I'm really sorry." And that was it. Nothing about, "Hey, I'm really sorry, but my dick is all floppy and the condom has come off and I think you might need to go and check it out." Nothing.

So the entire time I was looking at him wondering why he wasn't removing the condom, he was looking at me wondering the exact same thing! No wonder he didn't really seem to care that I wasn't speaking to him anymore! He thought I was a dirty whore who let condoms incubate inside her! Gross!

I am still to this day surprised that I didn't get toxic shock syndrome or something. A condom up there for 2.5 weeks, after it had already been on some dude's dick, has got to be a breeding ground for bacteria, surely? I felt so dirty and gross when I found it, let me assure you. I am such a clean freak that I always make sure I have excellent hygiene. Perhaps if I had a habit of douching, I might have been ok! Haha.

Eww. I'm feeling sick just thinking about it again.

So yes. That's my embarrassing and disgusting sex story. Let it be a lesson to all you girls! Don't expect the dude to tell you he's lost the condom! Check for yourself!

Oh the humanity!

Check out this real estate ad I was sent recently:

How fantastic is that? Let me see if I can identify all the mistakes:

"This is one of real estate prime pieces of land"
"James St cafe's"
"??"
"Why not the exposure is fantastic"
"and much more." (Should have ended with a question mark)
"Plenty of options call Jason Bond"

And my personal favourite:

"and wait to one day the possibility of zonings change and make it 100% commercial??????"

Complete with no less than six question marks! It's fantastic!

Let's just say I won't be going through that real estate if I want a professional ad to sell my property.

No, I don't bloody well care about the children

I used to support a lot of charities. At one point, I was giving out nearly $1,000 a month in regular donations. Recently, I've saved myself a lot of money by implementing a new rule.

How fucking annoying are those backpackers/other marketing people that stand around on the streets, harassing you as you walk past on your lunch break? And they always have some question ready to pounce on you with: "Hi, do you like Irish men?" What the fuck? What do Irish men have to do with anything? I guess they think if they can get your attention, they can reel you in to sign away $50 a month in support.

I really hate this recent development. I swear it didn't happen a few years back. Now it seems that every time I walk out of my building, I'm harassed by charity workers. And they're not even volunteers who actually believe in the cause! They're generally backpackers or other promotions people who get paid based on how many people they sign up. This irritates me.

Generally, the same people will stand in the same place for a few days. I walk past them at least 4 times a day. They try to talk to me every time. You'd think after the 3rd or 4th time, you'd realise this person is not going to give you any money and stop annoying them, no? Apparently not. I got so fed up with one chap pouncing on me every time I walked past that I stopped and shouted at him in the middle of the street that, no, I didn't give a shit about the children, and could he please go and fuck himself. Charming, no?

One girl even thought offending people was going to make them donate. She saw me walking up with my headphones on and said, "What's that you're listening to, Britney Spears?" Ugh! As if I would listen to Britney Spears! I very nearly turned around and asked her if she thought offending people was the best way to garner their support. Instead I just snorted my disgust and kept walking.

So my new rule is not to support any charities that employ these horribly annoying people. I should be allowed to enjoy my lunch hour in peace, thank you. They already have a bunch of telemarketers annoying me at all times of the day and night, so this is where I'm drawing the line. I've already culled Green Peace, Children's Cancer Fund, Fred Hollows, WWF, Abused Child Trust and a few others.

The Red Cross called me the other day. I usually support them by buying tickets in their art unions. However, I'd just been annoyed by their marketers for 3 days in a row, so I told her I would no longer be supporting them, because I didn't appreciate being harassed during my lunch hour, and that it was now my policy to not support any charities that have people out on the street pouncing on people. The poor girl didn't know what to say.

I probably sound like a heartless bitch, but honestly, I just hate being harassed. If I want to donate, I will. I resent some little promotions worker trying to force me into it by harassing me so much I sign up just to shut her up. It's irritating. Those charities will get my money again when they've realised how annoying this ploy is and put a stop to it.

Oh, and things like Red Nose Day, Daffodil Day, etc are exempt from this rant. I always buy something from those things. They're one off days when you know the charities are going to be out on the street, and they don't harass you. They just set their little stands up and wait for you to approach them. Very polite. I like that. They still get my support.

P.S. I'm extra annoyed today because of stupid group assignments. God I hate group assignments. Why do I always end up having to do all the work? And why am I always in a group where the other members don't even understand the basics, let alone anything in depth enough to contribute? Grr!

Ahahahaha! *wipes tears* Ahahahaha! *snort*

God I hate Marieke Hardy. She just irritates me. Not least because all of her "achievements" are the result of nepotism. I also despise the way she dresses and her extremely high level of narcissism (and the fact that she admits to such doesn't make it any better).

However, this morning I had the extreme pleasure of listening to her being taken down a peg. It was fantastic. Apparently, while JJJ were recording in Adelaide last week, she walked past Dotti in Rundle Mall and saw a mannequin dressed similarly to the "So Very Vintage" looks here, except with pigtails or something and a pile of books. Of course, because she loves herself so much, she immediately thought that someone had seen her somewhere and thought she was such a fantastic dresser that they decided to copy her look.

She called up the store this morning and was told by the sales girl that all the stores were sent the same brief for dressing the mannequins, including the pigtails. It was absolutely hilarious to hear the young girl say she'd never heard of Marieke. Even more hilarious were Marieke's claims that she was a B-grade celebrity. I'd say G grade at best.

Then she called up the head office. The woman who answered told her the mannequins' styles were largely based on overseas celebrities and trends. It was fantastic to hear Marieke almost pleading to the woman to tell her the mannequin was based on her. The woman, however, remained steadfast that it must just be a coincidence that Marieke thought the dummy looked like her. And then the woman said, "you'll have to send me a photo of yourself" because she clearly didn't know who she was either! There was a slight pause in which I'm sure Marieke wanted to say, "Oh, you can just google me, I'm a celebrity you know" or something equally retarded. Sadly, she didn't.

And then there is the fact that she is now auctioning herself off on Ebay, a la Scarlett Johansson. Again, I find it insanely amusing that she even thought someone would bid on her, and even more horrified that people actually have. I'm hoping the winning bidder just wants to win so they cut off her horrid pigtails and put orthodontics on her to fix that manky overbite.

****
Update! I've just noticed that Marieke was so convinced the mannequin was based on her that she took a photo of it, and it makes up part of the gallery on her Ebay auction! Ahahahahahahahaha! That is just too much!!

I knew it!

I always suspected the Bible was just the ramblings of old men on drugs.

I mean, seriously, there probably was a dude called Jesus who postulated the theory that one should treat others as one would like to be treated, but the theory was not an original one, and had been kicked around by other, far older cultures.

As for the rest of it, the miracles and what not, I really think it's all just a game of Chinese Whispers. The truth has been distorted over time, and possibly by whatever drugs the authors were taking.

There have been a lot of interesting documentaries over the years about the "miracles" and other large events in the bible (flood, destruction of Sodom, etc), and I tend to agree with a lot of their theories. One suggested that the flood would have seemed to cover the entire world to a people who had limited access to travel, and lived in valleys and such. In actuality, it was a localised event. In relation to the "rising" of Jesus (coming back from the dead), there was some evidence found recently to suggest that he didn't die the first time at all, and that he was still alive (although barely) when they took him down from the cross. Evidence such as blood and liquid flow from the wound on his side on the wrappings they placed him in in the tomb, which wouldn't have happened if he were actually dead (or something, I can't remember the specifics), and that the salves and what not they covered his body in when they wrapped him up had healing qualities and he had time to heal in the tomb when they sealed him in. So him "rising from the dead" was more of just recovering once they'd taken him off the cross whilst still alive.

Myself, I can't understand how people can believe in the Bible, or any organised religion, really. It doesn't make sense to me. I am far too analytical to just believe that sort of stuff at face value. I also don't believe in any sort of God at all. I think we're all just random atoms floating around in various shapes, and will return to random atoms floating around in other various shapes at the end of it all. So what do you think? Why do people believe in the concept of a God when, after 2000 years (or more, really, if you count the years BC), there has been no evidence ever found of such an existence?

Hail to FSM! Ramen!

Stupid pipes

What kind of moron lays a kitchen sewer pipe only centimetres below the ground under a garden bed? The kind of moron that built my townhouse, is who.

After attending external orientation school for my latest external degree (a complete and utter waste of time, let me tell you - 16 hours to go through the study guide, explain assessment and explain how to use a website? huh? What sort of idiots do they think we are that we can't read that stuff at home, like I already had?), I came home today and thought, "bugger doing any more studying, I might plant my herb garden now that I've got some time."

I picked a bare spot near the kitchen window, and set about with my pick digging up the garden bed, so that I could fertilise and what not before I replanted my herbs (which are currently still in pots from the last place).

I dug up some rotten tree roots, and when I hit something unyielding towards the back of the bed, I thought it must have been another tree root. I got the pick out and moved towards the front. I hit what I thought was yet another tree root, but this time I wasn't going to let it get the better of me. I pulled the pick out and plunged it in again. As I rocked it back, I heard an odd snapping sound. It didn't sound like a tree branch.

I got my little hand shovel and dug around where I'd been using the pick. And came across a pvc pipe with a rather large hole in it. Oh crap. I ran inside and turned on the kitchen tap (and in my haste left the door open, which resulted in my kitten getting out and me having to chase him around the garden to get him back inside before he got splatted on the road). I watched the hole in the pipe, and sure enough, there was water running through it. I'd just put a great big hole in the kitchen sewer pipe.

I dug further along the pipe to see if I'd hit it anywhere else, of course, the tree root I thought I'd hit earlier was also the pipe. I wondered how I could fix it, or whether it was even possible. I cut a plastic water bottle in half and put it over the hole and duct taped it in place, and did the same with the other hole. It looked like it might have worked, but then I decided I'm going to be here for a year, and I don't want to deal with sewage backing up through the sink, or whatever other problems might arise in future, and it was best to just get it fixed while it was exposed.

24 hour plumbers are very expensive on Sundays.

But even they said there is no way it should be so shallow under the ground. It is literally only about 2cm under the ground. Ridiculous. So now I'm going to put pavers over the top of it and make a little path, so that no one else ends up putting their pick or shovel through it. To make me feel better, the plumber pointed out that someone else had done it before, because there was a joiner on the piece of pipe he took out. So at least I'm not the only fool who's decided to plant a garden there and come unstuck.