Out, damn'd song!

Song in my head. Been there for days. Won't go away. Arg.

Options. Do nothing, and hope it goes away? Nope, doesn't work. Listen to something else? Nup, doesn't work either. Listen to the whole song over and over to see if it gets sick of itself and leaves of its own accord? Nuhah. Killing the singer would only result in the song getting extra airplay.

Stop! In the name of sanity. Darn.

If you leave me now, you take away the botheredest part of me. Blast.

Don't leave me this way. Whoops.

Can't get you out of my head. Sigh.

Quesadilla Of The Day: Gorgonzoladilla

What to do with beans

It's a dilemma, but those dried black beans are begging to be thrown into the slow cooker with some water for the afternoon. I can always decide what to do with them later.

Later in the evening, the no-longer-dried black beans are insisting on being left alone until morning. I comply. It seems rude to force a decision upon them so close to midnight.

By morning, the black beans still have no firm opinion on what they want to be, but the end of the bottle of cab sav is rather persistently suggesting itself as a protagonist.

There's an onion that's dying to get in on the act, and the garlic is practically jumping out of its container. A tin of tomatoes is lurking behind the cupboard door, too shy to put itself forward, but obviously eager to come play. As for the dried chilli flakes... well... give them an inch, they take a mile. Give them a teaspoon, they take lots.

The whole mess is now politely suggesting that it be slow-cooked for the day.

By evening, the low-fat cheese is asking for lashings of itself to be combined with the black bean cab sav onion garlic tomato chilli flakes, in conjunction with some warmed best-by-er-oh-a-month-or-so-won't-matter-they're-sealed-up-with-those-little-dessicant-sachet-thingies-and-anyway-they-look-fine tortillas.

It seems they decided to be vegetarian chilli con carne.

Dyslocation ... datlocation ... whatever ...

A move from a place of warm, daily familiarity to one of cool indifference.

When the place of warm, daily familiarity is not your preferred location in the first place (compared to, say, a beach in Fiji or an Aspen ski run), how can you find enthusiasm for the place of cool indifference? And when you have no choice, does it matter anyway?

Eventually the place of cool indifference will become a place of tepid acceptance, destined to forever fall short of the place of warm, daily familiarity. Until a potential move to a place of gelid distaste illuminates the imminently inaccessible previously-slighted charms of the place of tepid acceptance.

But when it comes down to it, there is only one truly important question: when the pain of it all gets too much, where can we go for consolatory shopping?

Golab's third law of mess

It's tough work, dabbling in the world of science.

I've finally completed Newton's unfinished theory. He got as far as figuring out that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. He never got as far as figuring out that for every act of cleaning, there is an equal and opposite messing.

This completely supports Golab's theory of the conservation of mess, which states that any time mess is cleaned, it spontaneously happens elsewhere.

Forget all that nonsense about Newton and Einstein contradicting each other. If they'd ever followed through on their theories, or perhaps bothered to do some housework sometime, they would have worked it out - they were saying the same thing!

Then who knows what would have happened to the course of science, maybe we'd all be driving flying cars...

Golab's theory of the conservation of mess

I'm sure we're all familiar with Einstein's theory of the conservation of energy - that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but can only change form. However, in shocking display of negligence, Einstein did not go far enough.

Fortunately, I have taken up the slack, and have completed my own theory of the conservation of mess - that mess can be neither created nor destroyed, but can only change form.

Take, for example, a normal home. More or less tidy, with small pockets of mess. It is impossible to clean up existing pockets of mess, without creating new pockets of mess. While the living room is being tidied, dirty clothes are building up in the laundry. While the clothes are being sorted, the washing up is accumulating in the kitchen. And so on.

As this is one of the natural laws of the universe, there is no fighting it. It is simply up to you to decide the manner in which you wish to convert the form of your own hard-earned energy - either in the endless tedium of changing the form of pockets of mess, or in relaxing with a glass of wine and ignoring the ultimately un-eliminatable pockets of mess.

Shopper Fashion Of The Day:

KLICKfix Shopper Fashion Beige

Does "too much shopping" exist?

Nothing says "perhaps you could consider making fewer online purchases" more than coming home to three parcels and a card asking you to go to the post office for a fourth, which wouldn't fit in the letterbox.

I suspect my credit card bill also has an opinion on the matter, but is finding it difficult to express due to the fact that I am refusing to let it out of its envelope.

FAQ Of The Day:

Q: Is there a battery attachment?

A: No. The Banana Guard was designed for its intended purpose only as a device to prevent banana trauma during transport.

http://www.bananaguard.co.nz/pages/faq-frequently-asked-questions

Bats

Bats can be surprisingly noisy.

It's not what you'd expect from evil, silent bringers of death (I assume the bats living in the tree in the middle of my street, as all bats, are of the blood-sucking variety).

In summer, around dusk, the rosellas in the trees are incredibly loud as they get themselves ready for bed. It's generally a case of closing the windows and turning up the tv. Later in the evening, however, what you hear is bats.

Although... come to think of it... is there really room in that thar tree for a full community of rosellas a-nesting, as well as a full community of bats a-vamping? Maybe that noise I hear is an on-going battle for supremacy of the treetops. Good versus eeeevil.

Or perhaps it's the nightly transformation of cute, colourful, cheerful birds into hideously deformed harbingers of doom. Fluffy native wildlife by day, evil monsters by night.

Think about it... we only see the bats in the trees at night... where do they go during the day..?

Cold

Cold, cold, cold.

And not a freezing cold, not that crisp, bitey, exhilarating cold that reminds you that the seasons roll ever onwards, that you are but a child of nature and exist only by the grace of the universe.

It's an implacable cold that gnags and gnaws its way into your soul and won't go away, no matter how many extra layers you add or how much warm liquid you pour down your gullet. It's the kind of cold to give new (or directly translated) meaning to sang-froid.

The only thing that truly helps is a hot, hot bath, preferably drawn with chopped ginger for added warmth. Or a latin lover.

Cockroaches

Not fond of 'em.

But they are a fact of life.

There are a couple of reasonably effective means of dealing with them.

1. When you see one, spray it.
   This method tends to leave dead cockroaches around the place.
   
   
2. Share your home with skinks.
   This method tends to leave dead cockroach legs around the place.

Tip: It's not a good idea to spray a cockroach right before you open a new packet of cereal with all the sultanas sitting at the top looking like little dead cockroaches without legs.

All aliens wear overalls

Have you ever noticed how a lot of aliens seem to wear overalls?

Take away the facts that they are frequently humanoid and usually speak English (often with an American accent, unless they are truly evil, in which case they have an English accent), the overalls thing really bugs me.

Surely the least these super-advanced beings could do is have slightly better dress-sense when attacking or annihilating us? It's a simple matter of taking pride in one's appearance. Some of them don't even bother having faces, just motorcycle helmets. Maybe they are attacking and annihilating us out of low self-esteem.

Perhaps someone should set up an alien self-help group. Or a reality show like Trinny And Susannah Get Naked With Aliens. Actually, no. Not that. Forget I mentioned it.

Horoscopes Of The Day

• Make sure you do not go too crazy with finances and extravagant travel.
  
• A boat trip or even buying a boat could happen now.
  
  

Fairies

I've been having trouble with my fairies.

The cleaning fairy hasn't been by for a while - the tidying fairy did a quick pass through the lounge room recently, yet completely missed the pile of clean clothes on the bedroom floor. I haven't seen the ironing fairy for so long, I'm not sure it still exists... maybe if I clapped my hands?

The grocery-shopping fairy finally got off its fat arse and did a token shop, but the grocery-putting-away fairy hasn't bothered to make an appearance. The suitcase-emptying fairy has just been phoning it in since I got back from overseas.

On the other hand, the junk-food fairy has been working overtime. Coincidentally, the money-vanishing fairy has also been going for it. And the exercise fairy has been sleeping in.

It's hard to get good help.

When are too many café meals too many?

Is it possible to eat too frequently at a café... say... in one day? I mean, is it wrong to have breakfast in a café, and then lunch in a café? And then, dare I suggest it, dinner in a cafe...?

Surely it's a good thing to be out and about on a reasonably pleasant winter's day (even if that does involve a certain element of sitting around eating), and supporting the local economy (even if that doesn't really support the intrapursular macro-economy).

And, of course, the more you are out and about and eating café food, the less housework you can be doing. Seems like a win-win situation to me.

Fortune Cookie Of The Day

One good thing about being wrong is the joy it brings to others.