OK, so I've spent the last week or so at
Victoria's biggest ski resort. There was no snow.
Truly sod all snow. Our worst snow season for 30 years,
apparently. There was I standing on my board looking at
grass.
It was crap.
Passing through Bright on the way to the snowfields (snowfields!? Bah) there was a banner across the road saying “fight global warming” in reference to our utter lack of snow.
Global warming? Is it really the cause? Was global warming the cause of the season 30 years ago that was apparently worse than this one? Did global warming cause the extremely well snow-filled winter last season? And the season before? And currently in New Zealand, for example?
Fighting global warming is an admirable cause and I urge everybody to join the fight, however temperature fluctuations have been occuring for years (four and a half billion of them at last count) and there is not necessarily a causal link between me looking at bare grass on the summit and me having driven to the summit in a car.
Saying that the bad snow season is due to global warming is interesting. Saying that the bad snow season is due to natural meteorological processes is boring. I am going to string up a banner that says “fight natural meteorological processes” just for the whimsy of it.
¶ 2:20 pm 2 comments
I have a handy tip for you all and I share simply because I'm a giver; I want to spread my hard-won wisdom across the world:
If you ever come across any actual Swedes, don't say to them “oh, hey! I can speak Swedish” and then start talking like the Swedish Chef: “yang borshpear de yoom bedishkidoo yaybo de hrday der hmm bork bork bork!” They don't take kindly to it.
¶ 11:30 am 4 comments
Welles was 25 when he made Citizen Kane
Warne was 23 when he bowled the Gatting ball.
Richards and Jagger were both 21 when they wrote Satisfaction
Maradona was 25 when he won the '86 world cup
Yeager was 24 when he broke the sound barrier
McCartney was 27 when the Beatles split up
So, who else spent their mid-twenties driving a taxi?
¶ 3:00 pm 2 comments
You're a parking inspector. No, it'd be great! You have to maintain your fitness to be able to ticket as many cars in a given time as you can. There's that “I'm not leaving my wingman” subplot where you're tempted to cross the street by a car parked up on the curb which would be worth megapoints but you have to stay with your partner. Then of course there are the fistfights with disgruntled car owners and when it rains you have to find a café and drink your coffee without staining your uniform.
Surefire winner. The kids would love it.
¶ 9:40 am 0 comments
However, there is one love that is not included. That is the love of my housemate for his girlfriend. I am so freakin sick of it.
The girl is lovely—don't get me wrong—she is a sweet, friendly lass. I have nothing against her except that she is always over at my house and the pair of them are so astoundingly irritating together. The noisy, slurpy kisses; his exaggerated laughter; their deafening sex. I'm sick of it.
He is leaving the country in a few weeks so they are getting as much “quality time” in before he goes so she will be over every night until his flight. The next person I'm getting into his room will be bright, bubbly, engaging and completely asexual.
Excuse me for ranting but I have had to leave the house tonight because of it. I was in a pub for a while but it closed. I'm now at the office. The office, for chrissake, writing an entry in a blog. I'm in a bit of a grump.
¹ It's the mutilation to death that rather goes against my argument here…
