The Jamjar

at last: unborked jamjar

Thursday Evening - beginning and end

I keep meaning to write something in here that link these two photographs. I'll do it soon.

Don't you just *love* the colours in the Phillips Fox photograph?

I had a very social Thursday. It started with my usual walk with Sue which was, as it usually is, action packed and full of words. Though it was slightly different with the addition of me slamming my thumb in her car door which has to be one of the dumbest things I've done in a while. I know have a very interestingly coloured but no longer (it's Saturday you see) swollen thumb and can use the spacebar on my keyboard again.

After fighting with Sue about ice/no ice and me having to pull rank (contrary to popular opinion I do not like being fussed over if I say "stop fussing over me" it's not a ploy to get more attention it's a straight-out "i'm able to look after myself") I had the great good fortune of a very pleasent lunch and afternoon natter with friends of a friend of mine. I've never met my-friend-Dave-in-Atlanta, but now I've met his friends who are visiting from the States. Max and Amy and Ari were delightful, easy and extremely pleasent company. We met at the Atomic and Ponsonby. The food was good, the coffee was great and Ari loved the sandpit full of digging equipment.

Time came to move myself into town and meet up with Mera for a catchup-drink that we both seem to have had trouble organising over the last few weeks. The weather was blustery and the outside-seating at the Provedor was rather artic. But we struggled on and drank beer and caught up until Todd came to escort me to dinner and the rest of my evening.

I'm telling you, I have a tough life *dramatic*.

Todd arrived looking all windswept and gorgeous, his hair blowing in the wind. He even provided shelter from the rain by remembering to bring an umbrella. We made our way up to Yakatori as if we'd planned it - it's so good why go anywhere else, and talked and ate and sake'd until it was time to move down to Shanhai Lill's for more talk and a nightcap.

If you don't know where Shanghai Lill's is, don't worry - it's quirky and small and intimate and I don't want you to find it because it's ours. I'm sure you'd hate it *anyway*. We talked shop a lot. Talked relationships. I talk about things with Todd I don't talk to *anyone* about - I'm not sure how he gets stuff out of me but sometimes I think if there were any eavesdroppers they'd be privvy to some pretty private stuff.

anyway.

The bar was empty apart from Russell (owner) and his guest. He expected Easter Thursday to be quiet and it was until we arrived it's not that we were loud, but the whole gang of women who followed us in made for a lively, attractive, suddenly-full bar. It was fantastic. Women draped themselves over the soft and cosy furnishings and talking, laughing, just being completely fabulous and lively.

But as with all evenings, our time is dictated by the ferry timetable and Todd's last one went at 11pm. He escorted me to my car, and his selfportrait below is how he amused himself while I searched for my parking ticket.

I had a thoroughly delightful Thursday.

Fetch

The most interesting thing about me these days is my cat, Mouse. She's taught me a game in the last few days.

I've taken to lying on the floor a lot lately - I think it's lately or maybe I'm just noticing it recently - anyway, as you all probably know, no matter how much money you spend on cat toys, their one *true* love is the ring-thing found on bottles. The blue rings from milk bottles, or Mouse's favourite, a smaller white ring from a water bottle. She chases this thing around the flat and it pings this way and that, keeps her amused for hours.

So yesterday I was lying on my stomach the floor - half in my office, half in the hall (no, I don't know why) and she trotted down the hall with this white ring in her mouth and lay down in front of my face, the ring on the floor between her paws. I looked at her for a bit then reached a tentative finger to draw the ring closer to me - and she let me! my finger was tentative because it's learned that her claws are very sharp and very fast and love the taste scared fingers in the evening. But she let me move her precious white play-ring-thing and I looked at it for a bit and she looked at me and didn't move so I decided to flick the ring across the floor. It scuttled across the floor bouncing unpredictably and she was after it like a shot. Pounced on it, mauled it a bit, then pranced back to me with it proudly in her mouth to resume her possy in front of my face, the ring once more between her paws for me to take.

I thought that was weird and probably a fluke.. so I hooked the ring-thing with my finger, drawing it closer again then I flicked the ring, this time harder and it boinged into the lounge. She bolted after it, disappearing around the corner and I heard the scrambling of her claws on the carpet as she caught her ring-prey and the uncatlike thuds (she's half rhino) as she trotted back to me, again with the ring-thing in her mouth for me to do it again. We played like this for about 30 minutes. Sometimes she overshot me and ran into the bathroom and would look at me, then realising I wasn't gonna get up and come get her or the ring, she'd come back closer so I could reach and reflick for her.

We've been playing it again this morning. It's a good game as it exhausts her and she gets a lot of her whinging "play with me play with me" out of her system. Did you know cats could play fetch? I sure in heck didn't.

7pm slots

" "If I were him (Chris Taylor), I'd be shooting myself. I'd be pouring petrol over myself and throwing myself off Auckland's tallest build-ing," said Mr Ralston.

He criticised Holmes' Suzanne Paul exclusive before going on to say: "It's crap. You know it's crap, I know it's crap and the viewers know it's crap." And he was critical of the decision to change TV3's 6pm newsreading team. Since newsreaders Hilary Barry and Mike McRoberts replaced Campbell and Carol Hirschfeld, the network has lost about a 10 per cent share in the Auckland market in its target 18-49-year-old bracket. ... "

The New Zealand Herald article

*knee slappingly funny*

I can't *wait* to see Campbell Live 7pm Monday night.. it can't *possibly* be worse than Close Up and Holmes is *so* last century.

UPDATE 22 March: I wrote this on Sunday, and due to technical difficulties with my host have been unable to post it until now [and you've not been able to comment *misses your comments*]. Okay, that's not *strictly* true. The missing-your-comments is true. Due to me posting-it-then-deleting-it-due-to-lack-of-confidence this wasn't posted on Sunday when my host was working, then yesterday after I'd beaten myself up for being so lame and silly about not posting stuff I couldn't post it because of technical difficulties. OK? Satisfied now? now you know I can't even fib a little? well OK I *can* fib a little.. but not to you. NOT TO YOU!

So Campbell Live [g'day yous fullas] was on last night and it was good. It's him, you see. If you like John Campbell you'll like this show because he's just so charming.. to me anyway. He can mow my lawn anytime and no, that's not a euphemism, I've seen him wield a lawn mower and he's no novice. PLUS - he's gonna have a fortnightly book club. YAY! (though what's with the jaggy pixel outline of JC on the site? c'mon designer, fix that up!)

updated Update

Me: I'm gonna tell you something you didn't know about having a cat.
David: yeh? what?
Me: Right, if you get a cat yeh? and you name that cat Mouse.. right. then that cat, right, will own your mouse pad.
David: yes
Me: she guards it with her teeth! she *owns* the mouse pad!
David: Mum, don't you understand? When you have a cat, everything belongs to her.
Me: I did not know that.
David: Cats are like that, Mum. Dogs have owners, cats have staff.

Advanced Parenting: Kebabs and kinky conversation

Amy: When I turn 18, I'm going *there*
Me: That's a shop that sells sex aids and stuff
Amy: hell YEH
Me: Why do you need to go there?
Amy: So I can buy a big vibrating thing.
Me: oh you big lazy thing, you're already got vibrating things that'll do the trick.
Amy: what ?
Me: Those things on the ends of your arms.
Amy: oh mum how gross.
David: HELLO.. minors in the CAR..I'm underage the underage for this conversation.

Friday Morning Fireworks

I don't know how to describe being woken at 5:10am by the sound of a car horn blasting solidly. Sitting up and waking up enough to realise, fuck, someone's fucking car alarm has gone off and falling back into the pillows hoping that rude awakening won't last long. To lie there and wonder how long before they go and turn it off as the car horn sound continues relentlessly. Then sitting up again hearing the bang. Was that a gunshot? noo..surely not, this is Pakuranga for goodness sakes, not Ponsonby or someother more passionate neighbourhood. Rolling over and closing my eyes thinking the horn'll have to stop sounding now - soon - surely. Then voices - a womans, a mans - yelling. Maybe it's a domestic dispute. Who the hell has domestic disputes this time of the day. There goes my neighbours security door and lights. She might think it's her car alarm but it's not loud enough to be her blimin' car alarm - I know because that'd sounded sometime after midnight last night giving me a heart jolting fright. She's nosey I figure as I hear her triple locked gate being unlocked and opened. The horn stops sounding. There is another loud bang. More voices. Arg, let me sleep. The horn that had stopped for a minute or so starts _again_.

The voices, much louder. My security lights trigger and my gate crashes open and the male voice is outside my door as he pounds on the security mesh. I get up and open my door but not the security mesh he's yelling.. I don't know what he's saying for a second or two then "your car? is that your car?" no, I tell him. My car isn't here, my son has my car. "well someones car is on fire" he yells as he runs from my gate and to the next house. I turn around and see the flames. The banging are the windows blowing out, the car is completely ablaze "has someone called the fire brigade?" I yelled after the guy he yells back they have and I grab my camera.

But I don't want to go outside. Standing in my driveway'd be far too close to the fire which is right outside my gate - my letterbox. I don't want to feel the heat of it and I know you don't have to be very close to do that and standing on my driveway'd put me far too close for my liking. A large fire appliance arrives, it's red lights swirling strange shadows in the dark street, picking out neighbours standing on lawns and in driveways. I'm truly last to this party. Clouds of misty smoke rise over my fence where flames were popping and crackling a few moments ago as they use their extinguishers to put out the fire. I can't see much, but I take a photo from my ranchslider window - my fence blocks all but the billows of white smoke and the helmets of the firemen. I see the chief fireman open my gate so I meet him at the door. "A bit of a dramatic way to start the day" I say. He smiles and asks me if that's my car? the black Mazda. I tell him no, my car is with my son. He asks me where I usually park my car and I point to my garage. Ah, he says, I guess the police will have to handle this one.

I watch a while through out my window. Watch as the scene calms down. Darkens as the floodlights from the fire truck are turned down and their equipment put away.

It's nearly 6am.

Quick Question: Fast Answer

Can someone tell me what the word Ross Gellar of Friends uses to describe his "state of readiness" from his martial arts training? The girls [Rachel and Phoebe and Chandler] keep saying his word means "smoked eel" or something sushi'r.

Domo.

Ross: Hi!

Phoebe: Hey!

Ross: Hey, what have you guys been up to?

Phoebe: Ohh! We went to a self-defense class today!

Ross: Wow!

Rachel: Yeah, kicking a guy in the crotch all morning really takes it out
of ya!

Joey: Takes it out of you? (Laughs.)

Phoebe: Now, we can kick anybody's ass!

Rachel: Yeah!

Ross: After one class? I don't think so.

Rachel: What? You wanna see me self-defend myself?! Go over there (points)
and pretend you're a sexual predator! Go on! I dare ya!!

Ross: Well, of course you can defend yourself from an attack you know is
coming, that's not enough. Look, I studied kara-tay for a long time,
and there's a concept you should really be familiar with. It's what
the Japanese call (he holds two fingers up to his temple, and he does
this every time he says this word) unagi.

Rachel: Isn't that a kind of sushi?

Ross: No, it's a concept!

Phoebe: Yeah it is! It is! It's freshwater eel!

Ross: All right, maybe it means that too.

Rachel: Ohh! I would kill for a salmon skin roll right now!

Ross: Y'know what? Fine! Get attacked! I don't even care!

Phoebe: (deadpan) Come on Ross. We're sorry. Please tell us what it is.

Ross: Unagi is a state of total awareness. Okay? Only by achieving true
unagi can you be prepared for any danger that may befall you!

Phoebe: You mean in case someone is trying to steal your bamboo sleeping
mat or your kettle of fish?

(Rachel laughs and Ross mocks her.)

Ross: (moves closer) All I'm saying is, it's one thing being prepared for
an attack against like each other; whole another story being prepared
for an attack, I don't know, like a (turns and puts his face close to
Rachel's and screams) surprise!!

(Rachel calmly wipes the spittle off her face.)

Ross: All right, you know that one was coming, but that doesn't mean you
have unagi. (Does the finger thing.)

Rachel: (To Phoebe) Ooh! Y'know what? If we made reservations, we could have
unagi in about a half-hour.

A rock'sposed to be heavy, dammit

Today I saw two promotional gifts from a major company in New Zealand. Both gifts were given to their customers as a way of saying "thank you for using our product". The company in question is in construction and more specifically: in quarrying.

I spotted the first gift from a slight distance. It looked like an award. It seemed to be a speckled stone a little larger than my fist. Very "of the earth" and upon the slightly flatter front appeared to have the company's logo and name engraved into the stone and coloured white. It looked nice - from a distance. I wanted to touch the engraved words on the rough stone surface, and was completely surprised upon picking up the so-called stone to find it was actually not stone at all, but more like the stuff a nerf-toy might be made of. But worse, because it was poorly made and didn't sit straight. It was squishy and I wouldn't have been surprised, upon squishing it, if it had squeaked. But it didn't squeak. It just did nothing. Actually, squeaking would have been a bonus as at least the dog would've enjoyed playing with it. So this thing, that could've been *so cool* being all real stone, engraved with the company's name as a gift to their customers turned out to be a cheap, crappy representation of same in about the worse material possible to make such a thing. They'dve been better off making small cliche nerf footballs and handing those out instead.

Yes, I did my rant in that office squishing that fake rock until I was handed something new to look at. Again from the same company, this time the item in question was heavy - which was unexpected given what it was. This time the item was made of what it looked like it was made of - metal. The image of heavy construction gear and the company's name was in relief on the surface, it was rather cool until I remembered the thing I was holding in my hand was a coaster - for underneath a coffee cup. Coasters are to protect surfaces from the heat damage from a hot beverage, or from a wet ring left from the underneath of a coffee cup. They themselves shouldn't be made from materials which might in turn damage the surface they are protecting, and if a person dropped this coaster onto their highly polished [hardly scratched with keys] rosewood table, you'd be having to sand a lot to get that ding out. But wait, there's more.

The coaster was presented in a nice, black velvet bag with a gold draw string. Way classier than the squishy rock. Attached to the bag was a small card with a little information about the coaster. The information read "Pewter, the world's 4th most precious metal"

Now. I had to think. what are they telling me. My company is only worth the fourth most precious metal? how much gravel n' shit do I have to buy to get a coaster made of, say, the third most precious metal. Or, more to the point, who got the gold coasters? if gold is the first most precious metal and that's only a guess because it might not be. Maybe it's Platinum.

But really, talk about feeling like this was a consultation prize.

Rocks should look like rocks, and god only knows this company has TONNS of rocks. If you can't do rocks properly, don't do them at all. And if you give people coasters, make them a) a set of coasters (min.4) and make them of a substance that won't scratch or ding the surface they're protecting.

Phet?

did you break the Art?

Milestone

My family always said I talk too much - and I guess this proves it.

I'm amazed and slightly embarrassed at the same time that there are so many words here until I remember it's not just me. Rosie, JJ, and Chris are pretty fond of a chin-wag here as well - not to mention you regulars who comment here most days/posts (not that comments count as posts, but I am a hungry-for-attention and will blog-for-comments): Jonathan, Eroica, Fishboy, David, Truck, Sarah, Barb and Phet. Not to mention you newer visitors: Mike, Llew, Morphess, Max, Barry and the occasional famous blogger *waves to Julia* (who comes here a lot but is only occasionally famous) and .. Truck again?. Plus the rest of you who visit and hardly ever comment - but I know you're out there *squints to see shadowy forms of Dave, Anna, James, Frank, Bill and Sphere and is that, no.. is that Klie? Truck, stop getting into all the lists!*

This isn't the Academy Awards so I won't thank the catering crew or the drivers, but just send out a big "air foodge" to everyone who visits and let's hope we don't make 4000 posts cos that would be really unmanagable achive files (they're in enough of a borked-up mess as it is) and far too many words.

Life Aquatic : Not a Movie Review

It was a sudden decision to go to the movies. Amy phoned looking for a ride to a friend's house near Botany prompting me to check the Village movie website. I guess there're lots of movies on - The Aviator, Ray, Sideways - but nothing that really floats my boat. But Life Aquatic was starting at 8:50pm - in ten minutes - right yes lets go tell David I'm on my way if he wants to come.

By the time I got to Amy's house, I had a car full of people waiting for me. Amy and Kirsty to be dropped off at Shelley's house so they could go "clubbing" (I try not to think of these things), David and Greg who'd decided movies with us was better than rugby on television (a rather startling revelation but there you go).

So, we were late into the cinema after dropping the girls off at Repco to navigate the dark walkway (meh, they'll be okay) to their friend's house and missed any previews, but not the start of the movie. Phew. (I really have no idea why I need to tell you the "how we got to the cinema" bit) It's still shocking to me that 2 Adults and a Child have to part with $38 to see a movie.

I don't know what to say about Life Aquatic. I'm a Bill Murray fan. I don't always expect him to be funny but he looked amusing in the trailer for this film. But the trailer also gave the impression that the movie might be lame and I'd had it in my "The Aviator/Ray/Sideways" catagory for a while (you know, should see/can't be arsed) but the TV3 girl (the one who described Somersault as a "poem of a movie" (liked that)) said it was very good, laugh-out-loud funny in some parts, and left her with a smile on her face long after leaving the theatre. Yeh, I know.. good review huh? I don't normally have any contact with reviews for things but she's on TV3 10pm News so I often hear her take on movies.

Well, we're gonna listen to her with a grain of salt from now on, okay? because in the end, I was left with the feeling that I just didn't "get it" and that's less a smile on my face than a bewildered expression.

That's an entirely usual expression for me. I didn't "get" Starship Troopers either. Maybe this was the same deal. Maybe I missed something, maybe I'm not wired for this kind of humour. I don't know. But about half way through the movie I leaned over to David and whispered "This is a really dumb movie" and he screwed his nose up and nodded agreement.

So why was it dumb? Up to that point I'd laughed a few times - there was humour there. I'd recognised the Port of Naples, I was pretty chuffed about that. Owen Wilson (and his deformed nose) wasn't annoying me as much as he usually does. The music was really good. There were even pirates - and we all know pirates are usually a sure-fired way to have an enjoyable time in a movie theatre. But it just didn't work for me. It straddled the line between bizarre and serious and it just didn't work. None of the characters seemed to connect - with me, or with each other. I think the most likeable character was the curly-headed intern who ended up being hurt when the pirates attacked.

The creatures sprinkled through the movie might be the key to why this movie didn't work. Many of the scenes had wonderous, computer animated stop motion animated creatures - they were bizarre and dreamlike, and very unlike the style "above" the water. Though these creatures weren't always in the sea - the rainbow coloured seahorse, for example; or the little flipping frogs on Hennessey's doorstep. They were surprising, and delightful, and foreign. The movie felt as if each character, each creature, each scene even, existed independant of the rest of the movie. Like the compartments on the cut-away Belafonte (Zissou's boat) this movie was segmented and nothing tied it together to enough of a degree for it to flow.

It might just be me, so I'm a little reluctant to say don't see this movie. I might've just missed the point. At least if you go, the music is good. The price of the movie ticket is worth listening to Brazilian singer Seu Jorge delivering acoustic David Bowie covers sung in Portuguese.

[added 14 March 2005] the ever fabulous Dave wrote a "how to" about the stop motion graphics used in this film. (I got it wrong - not computer generated but stop motion.. got it?) He's (Dave) smart and funny, talented and liked the movie so there you go - it was probably that I just didn't "get it". When you see it, tell me what you thought.

A lovely Friday

Thanks Rosie, for a delightful lunch and a lovely day.

A dog died in my car today

I was driving out to Botany to help Amy pick a new mobile phone. I have no idea why I even went back onto the Pakuranga Highway because it was definately taking the longest way possible. I'd been enjoying my day; one project finished, another on it's last few edits, a successful meeting and an invitation to coffee with my daughter.

The dog was a blur of cream shorthaired speed in front of my car. Ridge Road into Howick is busy at the best of times but at 3:30pm with all the schools let out and parents picking up, the traffic on the four lanes was getting heavy. The red van traveling in the opposite direction had breaked in the neighbouring lane - but not in time. The medium sized dog's hind quarters went under his front wheel.

The driver stopped but the dog yelped and kept moving, his back legs not working very well but continued at quite some speed along the footpath and disappeared into a driveway. I'm sure the driver couldn't see which driveway - he'd stopped, maybe looking in his rear mirror but wouldn't have seen where the dog went. Watching the whole thing, I didn't know what to do, thinking maybe the guy in the red van might get out and look for the dog. But when I checked my rear mirror, the van had gone.

I did a U-turn at the traffic lights and drove into the driveway I'd seen the dog disappear into. There were no signs of life in the house, the owners were obviously not home. I found the dog around the side of the house at the front step; she was obviously hurt. Her back legs facing one way, body twisted and front legs facing the other way. She was whimpering and was lying in a puddle of her own urine.

I really didn't know what to do. First thought I had was to leave a note for the owners saying I'd taken their dog. Going back to my car i abandoned that idea and spread a towel on the back seat so I could take her to the vet. She was a medium sized dog but I could only just lift her weight. I was really worried my moving her would cause her more pain. I actually expected her to make sounds, or struggle; growl at me mabye, or bare her teeth. But she didn't - I suppose she was in shock - her eyes looked glazed, she was panting and had a cut on her cheekbone - if dog's have cheekbones.

I lay her on the back seat. Her head lolled a little and I worried that I'd catch it when I shut the door but I didn't. She was panting, and making slight sounds. I figured that was a good sign, right? and she was warm - warm is good. I was talking to her, calling her "darling" and "sweetheart" and assuring her she was going to be all right. I jumped back into my car and went to the St Johns Lane Vet Clinic. Of course, every traffic light was red and the traffic was really heavy. It took about 10 minutes or so. I kept looking back to check she was still there, still breathing. I pulled up at the front door of the clinic and checked her before going inside for help carrying her in. She didn't look like she was breathing any more.

The Vet's nurse came straight out and worried for the first few moments that it was a dog she knew well. On closer inspection she was slightly relieved it wasn't. With that inspection came the news that the dog looked like it had died just a few minutes before.

We carried her inside using the towel as a sling and onto the Vet's table in the surgery. Yes, they said, she was definately dead. Checking her collar she had all the right registration tags and numbers, along with a silver disk with the name Whisky engraved in italics. They took my details, they asked me about the accident. I hoped they didn't think I'd done it and was making up a story - I don't even know why I thought that at the time. I asked if I could wash my hands - she was a very stinky dog and her smell was on my hands and arms, my clothes. I had a few smudges of blood on my shirt.

They entered her details in their computer for other clinics to see if and when someone phoned about the dog. I'd made note of the address I'd found her and they would deal with that. They thanked me and I inturn thanked them because I really hadn't known what to do. I went back to my car.

I can still smell her though I've showered and changed. I guess it's in my memory.

Somersault R16

Dear Sir or Madam

This evening I came to your Rialto cinema in Newmarket to see the movie Somersault. Unfortunately, your ticket seller refused our purchase because my daughter Amy did not have ID to prove she is 18 years old on May 5th.

Your ticket seller claimed that she couldn’t let us in to see the movie because there was a “question” of Amy’s age and ID must be produced just like “buying cigarettes or alcohol” she said. Besides the fact my daughter does not look like a 16 year old, we were not out to buy cigarettes or alcohol but to have a nice evening together seeing a movie blissfully unaware it was rated R16 or with any thought that we should grab proof of identification before leaving our home.

I completely agree with age restriction. I also agree with producing ID in such situations if there is a question of age. But given the fact she was with her mother, and that she looks her age of 18 years old, I think your ticket seller was over zealous in her duty refusing us admission. At the very least she should have asked direction from her Manager, and I should have contained my incredulous surprise at being refused entry to your theatre to ask for her supervisor too.

I don’t know about other parents, but I for one do not drive to theatres 40 minutes out of my way just to smuggle my children into R rated movies. Thank you Rialto, for ruining a perfectly good, and rare, mother-daughter date.

Your disgruntled patron,
Michelle Park

small blessings

This made me laugh today.

The dog ate my homework