Six men and an elephant - a Hindu parable

In Hinduism the six doctrines (six Darsanas) are like six different schools of thought and an early Hindu parable explains how the six Darsanas fit together. Imagine that six blindfolded men are examining an elephant. Each one of them is trying to identify what an elephant looks like by the particular part they examining - a leg, the trunk etc. So each of them has a different picture in their minds of what the elephant looks like. But, and here's the good bit, it's the same elephant.

It sounds like a great joke doesn't it - six Hindu's and an elephant walk into a bar...

Just like a real blog

I've just finished reading a book called "Japan Swings" by Richard McGregor and I really liked it. Admittedly I had to skip bits (specifically the boring bits about the Japanese economy and politics), but, in general, it was very interesting. The book talked about a lot of stuff Japanese - cultural issues, the economy and politics, the royal family etc.

Did you know that Australia is one of the few countries in the world without a trade deficit with Japan (this means, basically, that we sell more to the Japanese than we buy from them). This sounds good doesn't it - but I don't think it actually is. What we sell is mostly raw materials (we are mainly primary producers) which the Japanese then process, manufacture and sell it on to everyone else at a profit.

So we employ a relatively small number of people to get these raw materials, which the Japanese, employing a much larger number of people, change to something complicated for profit. They are generating more jobs, better technology and a healthier economy when all we are doing is pretty much selling off stuff. Eventually we are going to run out of stuff and we don't really have enough technology or skills to save ourselves.

And our twat of a Prime Minister still thinks that we are "The Lucky Country".

Q: So, how have you grown over the past 12 months? - Herge

Thanks Herge - I WAS trying to let it slide by without thinking about it too much.

But you're probably right, I should think about this. I can fit in about 5 minutes worth of thinking time, and that's it. Be thankful I've only got 5 minutes, I say.

So, I first posted on the 17th of August 2004 (you can read it here if you so desire - I wouldn't bother, it's not that interesting) and in retrospect, I haven't really achieved any of the aims that I naively thought would be the point of the blog.

But I have learned that blog without a point is truly good blog. I like being able to witter on pointlessly. Perhaps the best thing about this blog (I'd say window to my soul, but it's clearly more a murky kaleidoscope to my lungs which, frankly, makes you squeamish and gives you vertigo to boot) is that I'm still doing it. I mean, most people would have predicted that my attention span would have well and truly given out by now, but no, I'm still here.

I had hoped to be a little more intellectual, but it seems that my vapid and shallow nature is, little by little, seizing control of my cerebral cortex and before you know it, I will become Britney Spears more caustic psychic twin.

So it appears that I'm not growing at all, I think I'm regressing. Oh well. You can't have everything*. Thanks for bringing this up Herge, it's gone well don't you think?



* I mean, where would you put it all.

The Great Cow Debate

Do you think that your favourite type of cow reveals something about your personality. Can Cow-Favouritism become a pseudo-psychological pop-cultural personality quiz?

See Blandy.

Happy Blog Day to me!!!!!!!

What with all the excitement of yesterday being a public holiday - I missed my blog birthday. So here we are, a year down the track. Clearly some self reflection is in order, but frankly, today I just can't be bothered. Why? Because I got my second cd in the mail today - from CK over at the Font and now I'm far too busy dancing around to Punjabi MC.

Maybe I can self-reflect tomorrow. Or not. I'll see how I feel.

What time is it?

Look! Look to the right! See that profile on the sidebar? Look just under that. Do you see, do you see! No, below the profile - see a new thing on the blog. A clock in fact. Now you can all see what time it is here in BrisVegas.

Are you excited! I am. I had to get CK to help me a bit because it kept making the page skew-wiff (you know, wonky or crooked), but we got there in the end. Thanks again CK.

Photos from the Ekka

Ahh, the Mouse Circus.
 

And this is the Mouse Circus. See - they run around the wheels and climb up the ladder and everything. The Mouse Circus man said he had to keep counting the mice as they tended to be secreted up sleeves and never seen again. 

And this is a sculpture of a horse head made from chicken wire. I can't remember if it won a prize, but I thought it looked great. 

Here are some goldfish that looked very shiny and new. I think that they are comets. 

And here is a rooster that tried to peck me as I walked past. 

And this is a cute looking budgie. He was the least professional-looking bird there. You've got to admire that. 

And this is a llama that we saw. His head was very cute but they'd clipped most of the fur off his body and were using it in a llama wool spinning demonstration. He didn't look too upset about it all. 

And this a picture of a very attractive English Springer Spaniel. I liked this dog because he looked so happy lolling on his owners leg. 

And this a picture of a dog named Elvis. He belongs to a friend of mine who was showing him at the Ekka. I think he won his puppy division - but he was the only dog entered. 

Here is a cow that I patted at the Ekka. Unfortunately I couldn't get close enough to the Belted Galloways. 

The Rainiest of Days

Jo and I went to the Ekka on Friday and we froze to death. Well, not literally, but I was so cold I wanted to die and surely that counts for something. I even checked the weather report and it was meant to be 20 degrees (that's celcius folks, not kelvins). But it wasn't. It was much colder. I know you all think that I am being a sook, and quite possibly I am, but the fact remains, it was cold and Brisbane-ites are ill-equiped to deal with such environmental factors.

Oh, and wet. Did I mention wet? It was light rain all day which actually means that it was depressing drizzle all day. Just enough to make your hair go frizzy but not enough to warrant an umbrella. I ended up wrapping my scarf around my head in an effort to stay in a reasonably dry state. Jo said that I looked just like Grace Kelly - if Grace Kelly had worn a bright pink and white checked polar fleece scarf wrapped around her head like a crone.

And then I stood in a puddle. By accident obviously, but I still had one wet foot.

Despite my weather challenges, we had a lovely time. We ate corn on the cob on a stick, fairy floss from a bag, little dutch style mini pancakes with maple syrup, hot chocolates x 3 and hot chips with bbq sauce. We saw all types of dogs, a siamese and a birman cat, pigs and piglets, mice (at the Mouse Circus), rats, sheep and lambs, cattle, horses, dairy goats, deer, fish, chickens, ducks, geese and budgies. I've also decided that my favourite kind of cow is the Belted Galloway.

We didn't go on any rides because we ate too much fairy floss.

When I finally made it home, with one formerly wet but now frozen foot encased in a red chuck taylor, I climbed straight into bed, cranked up the electric blanket and weakly sipped hot tea provided by Handsomest. Even better, he'd made some bread which he toasted and drizzled with honey in an attempt to revive me.

Within mere hours, I was well enough to leave my invalid state behind.

The sound of Laziest Girl being found to NOT actually be a terrorist

So today I traipse up to the post office to send a couple of my sampler CD's off (Laziest Girl - The Sound of No Apostrophes). One was going to Blandy in Western Australia and the other was going to Aurora in the US. No problem, I thought. People post stuff all the time.

Apparently when you send something (other than a letter) internationally now, it is not as easy as you might think. Not only have to fill in the customs declaration to say that you are not posting human body parts, but you also have to present a valid drivers license so they can find you if it turns out that you actually posted a hand grenade.

So I fill in all the paperwork (ok, there wasn't actually that much) and give the Post Office Lady my drivers license. "Geez, it's a bit of a circus now trying to post something isn't it", I say, expert that I am in stating the bleeding obvious. "Yeah, it's a real pain", says Post Office Lady. "Do you want a thumb-print and a saliva sample while I'm here?", quip I - honestly, I amuse myself no end. "No, saliva samples aren't required on Wednesdays and we can get your thumb-print off the stamp", says Post Office Lady.

Damn. Out-jousted by the Post Office Lady.

The Sound of No Apostrophes

Last week I received my sampler CD from Blandy over at Get on the Blandwagon. Blandy sent me a great little sampler CD but to fulfil my part of the bargain, I have to send Blandy a sampler CD.

Because I am, in fact, the Laziest of Girls, I have only just finished putting together my sampler CD for Blandy. So now that I've finally got off my proverbial and done it, if anyone else is keen for a copy - email me a snail mail address. And be prepared to send me a sampler CD from your neck of the woods.

So what's on "Laziest Girl - The Sound of No Apostrophes"? Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?

A big, fat, pointing arrow to Angry Chimp

I just wanted to point you all in the direction of CK's recent interview over at Angry Chimp. You all know Herge - he is an occasional visitor here at Laziest Girl (see his most recent comment). I like him. And, I think, if it came to it, he'd pick me to be on his team for tunnel ball (no, this is not a euphemism).

Anyway, as all of you know, CK is a very special person. In fact - here are five reasons why CK is unique (I'm running on a short timeframe here people).

5. If I'm not laughing with him, I'm laughing at him.
4. Living proof that not ALL scientists are boring.
3. His particular brand of OCD is intriguing in a train-wreck kinda way.
2. He is the only person I know who is scared of Oompa Loompas.

And the number one reason why I like the Fount of Useless Information

1. CK makes me look totally normal

Now that he's famous, do we have to be nicer when he leaves snarky comments on this blog?

Five things you didn't know about Laziest Girl

My favourite TV show as a kid was Gilligan's Island. The scary thing is that I actually identified best with the Professor.

My favourite food is roast pumpkin. I also love carrots and my hands and feet have a freakish orange tint to prove it.

I am not a morning person. Handsomest always says that the four horsemen of the apocalypse could stand at the end of my bed and elbow each other while saying, "you wake her". "No, you wake her". "Look, I'll make the tea, you wake her".

When I was eleven, I broke my leg and my mother didn't take to me to the hospital until the following day because she thought I was faking it. This is true, obviously my penchant for hypochondria started far earlier than first suspected.

I always sing along to the radio in the car. I can't sing. Well, I can, but it hurts peoples ears.

I complain, therefore I am.

Everyone on the planet seems to spend a whole lot of their time driving from Point A to Point B and complaining (at length) about the lack of driving skills of everyone else on the road. I do this all the time. And I hate it. I try to be a nice driver. I always give way, I always indicate, I will always let someone in front of me if they are trying to merge. Why is it, then, that I am surrounded by morons in cars.

They are, like, 12 years old (ok, ok - 19 years old) and barely seeing over the dash, smoking and talking on their mobile phones whilst being a single occupancy vehicle in the three person transit lane. For example, this very morning I nearly got squished between a bus and a little black car whose driver clearly had tunnel vision and didn't see me.

The sooner I can get back to catching the bus to work, the better.

Censorship fuss?

I went and saw Mysterious Skin last night at the cinema. And frankly I can't see what the all censorship fuss is all about.

In case you don't know, there has been a big hoo-haa recently about the 'R' rating that this film has been given. Apparently the Federal Attorney-General's office asked for the review after receiving complaints about the child sexual abuse in the film from the Australian Family Association and the Festival of Light. It's interesting that the Australian Family Association, without seeing the film, called Mysterious Skin a "how to manual" for paedophiles.

Anyway, rationality has prevailed and the Classification Review Board has decided that the film should retain its 'R' rating. And it is an awesome film. Some parts were a bit brutal but I really enjoyed it - I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. But the point of this post is that I hate censorship. If you don't want to see a film, no one is making you go. Stop whining and allow people to make informed decisions. It's not your job to decide what is suitable for me to watch - so feck off with yourself Australian Family Association.

A serious film review by LG (not)

We went to the double feature at the Globe on Tuesday night - and I have to say - I was impressed. Not only did we get to see the 1984 classic "Breakin'" but we were also treated to a most bizarre not-actually-a-Jet Li film - "Riki-Oh".

In case you don't remember 1984 very clearly, "Breakin'" is like stepping through a time warp. Think leg warmers, think lycra, think pink and blue eyeshadow, think hats, think bad graffiti, think earrings in only one ear. But most of all, think Street Dancers. Scum that they are. Corrupting the classically trained dancer, Kelly, and getting her to enter street dancing competitions.

And if that is not bad enough, the street dancers then enter a classical dancing competition and win with their sheer talent and audaciousness. That's fresh, you know? And the names, oh the names. We had Turbo and Ozone and then, to keep up, Kelly changes her name to Special K. We spotted Jean-Claude Van Damme in one of the crowd scenes and a very young Ice-T as the MC at the 'dance-off'.

Anyway, my crew (Jammin' J, Vicki Vertigo, Tricky Si, Cherry Popin' D and Andre Arkansas) loved this film. It was all we could do to hold Andre back from doing a "Windmill" demonstration in the foyer and we have all vowed to practice our Moonwalking.

The second film, Riki-Oh, is in a class of its own (and not even listed on imdb!). Someone like Jet Li (but not actually Jet Li) stars as a misunderstood man thrown into a futuristic and privately owned jail. He apparently has superhuman strength which we learnt from watching a flashback in which Riki talks to his uncle who asks "do you still have the superhuman strength that you had as a boy?".

Anyway, in this futuristic jail (which looks the same as a regular jail except that the inmates are able to open their own cells when a fight starts) the inmate are not allowed to see or speak to the Warden, or the Assistant Warden, or, presumably, the Assistant Assistant Warden. There are four gang leaders who are in charge of discipline in each of the four cell blocks. Of course Riki-Oh runs foul of one of the leaders within the first 2 1/2 seconds.

But, using his superhuman strength, Riki-Oh doesn't just win fights, he physically destroys his opponents. Cue punch bad guy in stomach, ooops, fist passes right through bad guy. Punch bad guy in face, ooops, half his jaws is smashed to pieces. The best bit, in my opinion, is when Riki gets his arm nearly severed and he reattaches the tendons midway through the fight by holding one end in his teeth and tying it to the other end.

Although I think a notable mention needs to go to the Warden, who, at the end, inexplicably turns into an incredible hulk type, and can only be stopped when Riki puts him through the mincing machine. Gore, much?

So, all in all, another excellent evening.

Why you can't pull the wool over their eyes

When my father died (about five years ago), he was cremated and my mother decided that we would scatter the ashes at a beach in New Zealand. We checked with the Crematorium and they said that there was no problem taking ashes through customs but that we should carry them in our hand luggage and declare them when we got there. They also gave us a letter clarifying exactly what it was that we were carrying.

So, we arrive in Auckland - letter in hand and ashes in bag. We (me, Handsomest, my mum and my six months pregnant sister) all traipse through the something to declare aisle and find ourselves face to face with a rather strapping customs officer.

'Hey,' says Handsomest, 'we've got some ashes to declare'.

'I'm sorry sir, what was that?'.

'We've got some ashes to declare'.

'I'm sorry, I can't hear you sir'.

'I said, we've got some ashes to declare,' repeats Handsomest. 'But it's alright, we've got a letter saying it's ok'.

'Just a moment,' says the behemoth beckoning frantically to one of the other customs guys who practically runs over to us.

'What have you got?' he says again, dropping the sir.

'We've got some ashes and a letter saying it's ok. You know, human remains'.

'Ahhhhh,' says the customs officer, 'I thought you said that you had HASHISH'.

Although God knows why we would have had a letter saying it was ok to take hashish through international customs.

Do I do subtle?

I've been reading this book called Conditions of Faith by Alex Miller. I'm quite liking it but my urge to slap someone around the head is become difficult to control. About a quarter of the way through the book, the main character, the newly married Emily, discovers that she is pregnant. I'm ok with that, but then she gets worried that the baby isn't her husbands.

Ok ... so what did I miss? Turning back the pages I come to a meeting that Emily has with a priest whilst taking a tour of the church. She gets lost from the group, yada yada yada, is found sitting lost and alone by the priest. They talk for a bit, and then the priest escorts Emily back up to where her husband is waiting. Let me quote -

'It's no good,' she said hopelessly. 'I must get back!' He was looking up into her face, his neck thick and powerfully muscled. She reached and with the tips of her fingers she touched the vein in his neck and felt his heartbeat surge beneath her fingers.

And that's it. So, from this, I am meant to know that she shagged the priest in the bowels of the church only five minutes after meeting him. Honestly, at least give us a hint. This is what I call a Tess of the D'Urbervilles moment.

Maybe the problem is that I just don't do subtle.