The Apple Tree

I've come across this little analogy about three or four times now:

Girls are like apples on trees.
The best ones are at the top.
The boys dont want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
Instead, they get the rotten apples from the ground that arent as good, but easy.
So the apples up top think something is wrong with them when in reality they're amazing.
They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Boys that are too scared to climb to the top of the tree!? Ha! That's as far-fetched as the straight man denying a request to sleep with Maria Sharapova or the girl that knows the offside rule in soccer. So let me tell you boys and girls how it should really go:

Girls are like apples on trees.
The best ones look like they are at the top.
The boys see these good-looking apples on the top, and decide to reach for it.
Upon reaching the top apples they take a bite, but deep inside the apples are disgusting and they make the boy feel sick.
So the apples up top which were initially so amazing, actually leave a bad-taste (ie. are self-obsessed, inconsiderate, thoughtless, insensitive she-devils who like to tinker with the boy's emotions until she's drained him completely before leaving him out to dry).
Filled with hurt and sadness, the boy ends up falling off the ladder. And since he went all the way to the top, he falls down so hard that the resulting violent forces hitting his chest lacerate the skin, split the underlying subcutaneous tissue, tear through the muscle underneath, crack through his rock-hard sternum and ribs.......and breaks his heart.

Meanwhile the so-called rotten apples on the ground aren't actually rotten. They've just been so ripe for so long. It's just that the boys were too busy trying to get the ones from the top.

Then there are the apples from the market......

The company golf game

There are only three certainties in life: Death, taxes, and the uncontrollable urge to kick the arse of every hardcore hippy in the world and tell them to do something useful with their lives. Now there is a fourth one: Every golf ball that is hit by me off the tee will slice horribly to the right side of the fairway and into the trees. My golf game wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for this... oh, and the odd occasion where I swing, take my eyes off the ball for a split second and muff the shot...not to mention, my inability to pitch the ball over short distances. Hey, I'm pretty decent at putting! But all in all, I was quite happy with the way I played for a person who never plays golf, bar two goes on a driving range at least six years ago and the odd pitch and putt outing during high school. And no, mini-golf doesn't count. It helps when your boss is on your team and demonstrates the same golfing deficiencies as you. It also helps when another member of your team actually has a vague idea of the concept of "straight" and can actually place the ball in a position where the next shot doesn't require bending around about four trees. After the nine holes though, our team finished just five over par and came second. Not bad. (The rules were that all team members hit from the same spot and you all take the next shot from the best position the ball is in). Oh and the other thing I discovered about golf: it's bloody tiring! Even only after nine holes we were all wrecked. And we're talking about a bunch of physios here which means we're all pretty fit. Well, we should be at least. Anyway, 'twas a fun day and it was good to meet other people from the company which I'll hardly see since they work in other locations.

Why I'm enjoying my job

Is it because:
- the hours I work enable me to drive during off-peak times, and even when I have to go during the morning rush, I'm going away from the city and hence the traffic?
- during my first week as I build a patient caseload from scratch, I haven't had many patients so all I've ended up doing is sitting there reading stuff and getting paid for it?
- whenever I don't have a patient, I can just hop over the road to the shopping centre and grab a milkshake?
- I get a little consultation room all to myself which makes me feel all professional-like?
- the people I work with, both the physios and the admin staff, are all pretty cool?
- I get weekly tutes, which is pretty sweet for a new graduate working in a private practice?
- so far, starting out as a private practice physio isn't as daunting as I first thought it would be?

The answer is...no.

The reason why I'm enjoying my job is because, on stinkin' hot and humid days like today, I don't have to suffocate like most nine-to-fivers who wear a business shirt and neck tie. Instead, I get to wear comfy open neck polo shirts that allow my body to breathe.

Having said all that, I'm over work already and I wish I were on holidays once again. And I'm only doing 25 hours/week for now.

The perks of being Chinese

You get TWO New Years!! Take that Western Society, with your skilled drivers, non-angry-sounding language, wide eyes, and superior forms of going to the toilet.

Xin Nian Kuai Le!
or
Gong Xi Fa Cai!
or
Kung Hei Fat Choi!
or
Happy Freakin' Chinese New Year you Pigs!

Maybe I'm just high on an overdose of vitamin C tablets to counter this damn cold.

I can see Japan from all the way up here

So I've started work. After all these years of school and uni I'm actually starting a career. The novelty of it hasn't worn off yet. For the most part though, "work" is just code for sitting around doing nothing. I'm still in the process of building up my own caseload of patients. So far seven unfortunate beings plus a class of hydrotherapy patients belong to me!

Anyway, onto yet another rant. I seem to be quite the angry person lately.

You know, I love being (pseudo) Australian. I wouldn't leave this country except maybe to live in Hawai'i. Retirement perhaps. But anyway, as much as we rock as a country and as a people, man, there are some tools out there. I base it on public comments left in Australian newpapers and forums online in relation to that explosion on the Japanese whaling ship, leaving one man missing. The general consensus as you'd probably gather is that the majority frown upon the practice of whaling. Fair enough. I'm in agreement. But some of the arguments, and moreso the emotional remarks are astounding. There's no compassion to the missing man with many even dismissing him saying he deserves it. Some of the comments are pretty racist as well. There aren't any direct swipes at the Japanese, but if you read between the lines you can see the implication plain and clear.

But the one thing that really pisses me off about it is how so many of us are sitting on this high-horse looking down on other countries/cultures with ignorant distaste and a narrow-minded belief of the superiority of the Australian way, or perhaps the Western culture in general. C'mon people, if you're going to say that killing the minke whales is wrong, give me arguments that aren't hypocritical or set double standards. How dare we call the Japanese "wrong" and label them all sorts of colourful adjectives when we go home and eat a souvlaki made of kangaroo, which for all intents and purposes has all the same rights as the minke whales. If the minke whales were endangered, ok that's a different thing altogether. But they are not. It'd be hilarious if the Japanese population had a soft spot for kangaroos and had a reciprocal dislike of our kangaroo hunting. It also parallels the Muslim people not eating pork. Many a typical Australian family sit at home eating a nice dinner of roast pork. Yet the Islamic community aren't up in arms tying themselves to pig-killing factories. Why? Because they respect our decision to kill the little oinkies. Contrary to belief, we are not the superior race. We are not the superior culture. We are just different. How dare we look upon this practice of whaling, when we use such flawed arguments and thought-processes that we don't even pass. And how sad it is that we use it as an avenue to mistakingly present our culture as the superior one.

For the record, I hope they do stop hunting the minke whales...because I reckon they're such cool, graceful dudes!!!!

Airports, the end of a holiday, and why some people just need to remove themselves from existence

Went to pick up the folks from the airport. Ended up sitting there for two hours due to a busted baggage transfer which saw our box of asian goodies and our new wok end up in Perth somehow. Anyway, as I sat there I realised something. The airport is the perfect analogy for contrast. Think about it. Downstairs at the international arrivals terminal are hugs, kisses and broad smiling faces of happiness and joy, as people welcome a close friend or family member. But directly above in the international departures lounge you get the sad faces and the flowing tears from the ones who have to stand there, watching their loved one off for the last time in potentially years as they walk through the double doors. (Ah, the double doors. For those who have never been overseas and hence through those double doors, you're missing out! Behind those doors is a land of rainbow-flavoured chocolate, alcoholic waterfalls and pixies that sing to you as you wait for your plane!) I guess you could take it a step further and say that just a few metres inside the arrivals lobby, are faces of frustration and anger as customs officers confiscate the food you've brought back from whichever part of the globe you just came from. Ah well, just a thought I had. The house dynamic has already changed with the return of Mum and Dad. TV and stereo volumes have lowered, questions are being repeated followed by answers of frustration from Julius and me and I no longer walk past the kitchen looking at what needs to be cleaned. 'Twas good to catch up with Mum on what's going on with the relatives back in the land formerly known as 'home'. Looks like I'll be back there at the end of the year for the first time in three or four years.

So now I sit here in the twilight of my long summer holidays - the last of which extends beyond more than a month for perhaps years or even decades to come. I start work this coming week which will be interesting. The last week or so I've been filled with excitement one minute, but then depressed at the thought of an ending holiday the next. I've already had some tutorials with the other graduates in the company, to shake off the rust from our soon-to-be-stuffed therapist hands and to discover that filling in forms and dealing with TAC, Workcover, Medicare, and the Department of Veteran's Affairs is like trying to teach a rabbit or a George Bush to find a cure for stupidity. Where it says "length of expected treatment" I'll just write down 12 weeks for every diagnosis, and when Workcover rings up and asks why such a long period of time I'll just say "'Coz I like the number 12".

Oh, and a rant:
A mate has had the unpleasantness of dealing with a dodgy person recently. This person, whom for our purposes I shall call "Captain F&#khead", had his daughter ram the car of my friend. It's been a month now and he's pulled all these dodgy strings to avoid paying up. Now he's stating that my friend's car was already damaged before the accident (which it wasn't) and that he shouldn't have to pay for anything. He's willing to go to court for it despite the fact that 1) It was clearly his daughter's fault and 2) He wasn't even in the accident to begin with so what the hell does he know?! Well, he knows a lot by the sounds of it. From what I've been told this guy knows what he's doing and he's been one step ahead of my mate. But that's beside the point. The point is, someone needs to chop his penis off and tell him "that's what you get for being a bad man!" My friend is considering whether or not going to court is worth it. By the sounds of it, there's a realistic chance that Captain F&#khead will win, in which case my friend will lose money through legal fees. Even if the court ruling were favourable, it might only be enough to pay the legal fees in which case, there's nothing to gain from it. Well there is something to gain! It's the principle of the matter, as cliche as that is. Yeh I know it's easy for me to say this, when I'm not the one going through the distress that my mate has to go through. Put me in the same position and I might end up letting it go. But if the chance of winning is extremely good, then theoretically, you should go for it. Now I'm usually one to frown upon going to court and sueing others, because it's usually by people who trip over their own front doorstep then sue God for it for creating the world. But in this case, Captain F&#khead needs to be taught a lesson - he needs to be taught that you can't just run over people and cheat the system of morality and ethics. That is the thing about sueing others which I agree with.

Muse concert pics

Courtesy of Deb. Ten points for bringing your camera along ;)

Putting the MUSE in music...ok that was a bad heading, I'm sorry

So I went to see Muse last night. If I were gay, and weren't part of a religion that's not exactly gay-friendly, and didn't have a mum and dad that would probably disapprove of me being gay, and if homosexual marriages were legal (is it? I can't remember now), then I would marry Matt Bellamy (the lead singer). People fall in love and marry others for certain reasons. Some marry because of the intellect they see in their partner. Others for their sense of humour. Still more for their kind-heartedness. Shallow ones would marry because of their money. And some are simply entranced by the natural beauty of the other.

I'd marry Matt because he belts out songs with mind-bending natural, and synthesised vocals, that includes a phenomenal falsetto, all while he creates alien sounds out of the ten million strings, knobs and buttons on his custom made guitar with a little computer screen on it, whilst jumping around like a mad man on nodos but still being able to hold down smooth vocals, before quickly moving to the piano to effortlessly key out a note-a-millisecond Russian-influenced cadenza, then returning to the front to finish off the song by singing a note about three octaves higher than what is considered normal, and finally looking at all of us between songs as if to say in a monotonous, hynotic tone, "We are Muse. You bunch up to one another's sweaty bodies and gasp for air because you love us. Here comes another song that will blow your mind away...again"...

*Take deep breath*

To cut to the chase, last night was the best gig I've seen, period! Oh wait, that's American. Let's try that again.

To cut to the chase, last night was the best gig I've seen, full stop! And I know it's hard to compare between, say Missy Higgins for example, because whereas Missy is a smooth, delicate, newly-ripe peach, Muse is a spiky pineapple-type fruit that's come from the planet Neptune and would immediately come to life the moment you touch it and eat your hand off. But still, I make the statement without hesitation. Yeah, call me biased because I only just recently went to the gig. And call me biased because I love every single track on the new album. But believe me, if you didn't know Muse at all, and you came to the concert, you'd be darn impressed...so long as you like music at four times the health and safety recommended decibel levels. But honestly, my satisfaction of the gig went so far as to have all the songs I was hoping they'd play over the span of four entire albums. Seriously, how often does that happen in a gig that needs to cover four albums? I said, "If they only play two tracks from the second album I hope they play Citizen Erased and Plug in Baby" and what happens? They play just Citizen Erased and Plug in Baby off the second album. Telepathic coolness right there :)

Insane night, worth the $82.50 plus postage and handling, and the slight ringing in my left ear.

Happy Invas ... err, Australia Day!

Mum and Dad are overseas leaving the house under the capable, yet irresponsible hands of the Ting brothers. So what's the first thing you do in a situation like this? Why, invite everyone else over of course. As I discovered today, cleaning up after a BBQ for nine people by yourself will never make the list of 'favourite hobbies'. It is, nonetheless, worth the effort. Nothing beats having your mates around for a meat and grog fest with the token salad to please the conscience and fool yourself into believing that the meal is actually healthy in some way.

With Australia Day comes Triple J's Hottest 100 - perhaps the only time of the year when Justin Timberlake fans tune into the station and call themselves "cool" for it. Was so close in predicting the number one. My trifecta for the list this year was Eskimo Joe's Black Fingernails, Red Wine, Gnarls Barkley's Crazy and Hilltop Hoods' The Hard Road. They came second, sixth and third respectively. Anyways, since I'm in the mood, if I had a top 20 for the year 2006, the list would be thus:

20) Eskimo Joe - Black Fingernails, Red Wine
19) Foo Fighters - Everlong (off the acoustic live CD)
18) Red Hot Chili Peppers - Dani California
17) Basement Jaxx - Take Me Back To Your House
16) Little Birdy - Come On Come On
15) Evanescence - Lithium
14) Hilltop Hoods - The Hard Road
13) The Living End - Wake Up
12) Basement Jaxx - Hush Boy
11) Lily Allen - LDN
10) Chris Cornell - You Know My Name
9) Muse - Supermassive Black Hole
8) My Chemical Romance - Welcome To The Black Parade
7) 30 Seconds to Mars - The Kill
6) The Killers - When You Were Young
5) Gnarls Barkley - Crazy
4) The Killers - Bones
3) Lily Allen - Littlest Things
2) Muse - City of Delusion
1) Muse - Knights of Cydonia

Why gyms are evil and should be banished

The number one new year's resolution on the lists of most people would be to exercise more often. Reasons for doing so may vary, whether it be to raise the self-esteem, or perhaps lose the flab around the waist so that the next time Brad Pitt comes into town he will be mesmerised by the size of your assets rather than the excessive love handles and be compelled to leave Angelina Lips Jolie for little known you. Whatever the reason, I would venture to say that gyms around the world experience a boost around this time of year. Now I'll admit, the exercise thing has been my resolution too. In fact it was my resolution last year. And the last. And the last one before that. It wasn't the next one before, but I'm sure it was also part of the resolution of the next preceding year. What are we up to, year 11? No matter. The difference between everyone else and me is that it takes on average three days for people to give up whereas it only takes me 16.7 seconds. But not this year. In fact, I'd be exercising right now if it weren't for the surgery I had...ok, that's just an excuse but soon I will get off my arse. But success is assured this time round for I have a secret weapon. It's called a gym, or a human sweat factory. And I'm going to join one.

Or so I thought.

You see I've come to realise that the gym is like going to Hungry Jack's to buy a whopper for $49. Yes, it's the culinary equivalent of your taste buds having an orgasm but it still costs bloody $49! We buy whoppers because they only cost about $4, not $49! You could make your own burger at home that would produce the desired results that would only suck maybe $2.50 out of your bank account for ingredients and perhaps the gas to fire the grill. Sure you have to make it, but at least you have $46 to spend at your leisure. Perhaps use it to buy a pair of shoes, or be saint and donate it to charity. You might even put it towards repaying the Mafia before they kill you. Either way, you didn't waste all that money!

Which brings me back to the gym. I have heard some bad things about gyms. Even Fitness First made bad headlines on Today Tonight. Granted, that show is about as journalistically honest and genuine as Kim Jong il saying that the North Korean missiles he fired were full of love and rainbows and not nuclear material. Even so, I wanted to find out so I went to a gym last week. I won't say which in case they somehow stumble onto this and sue me for enough money to buy three extra treadmills. Anyhow, I realised that the gym is one big con. How much would you pay for a year's worth of a gym membership? $900? Well if not, too bad son because after visiting this place and calling up others, that's how much you'll part with after paying joining fees and weekly fees, and we're talking about the bare minimum here (and remember, I'm not a student no more on student prices). I love how the guy who interviewed me gave me the price for "my plan" and then showed the prices of other plans, all of which were more expensive. Hmmmmm. Oh, don't get me wrong. This guy was nice and everything but he might as well lose that shirt and tie and wear a t-shirt saying "I'm a salesman selling you empty promises". He even did the whole, "now ordinarily you'd pay this much, but since you haven't been working long I can give it to you for this much" as well as the "I'll speak to my manager to see how long of a cooling off period we can give before you decide..." (aka. "you're so important to us even the manager will take interest in you.") Pure salesman. Not that there's anything that wrong with it. You've gotta market your product somehow. But it just seemed...fake. I was reminded of it today when, walking through Chaddy with a friend who shall remain nameless in case she is so committed to never doing a myspace or blog that she doesn't want her name to even be on one, even though she better visit this blog after I told her I have one and she better put a comment on it... her name starts with C and ends in Hui. Anyway what was the point of that? Oh yeah, walking through Chaddy today we passed a Fitness First stall. See?? Nothing but evil salesmen! The last time I checked, you go to a shopping centre to buy clothes, food and overpriced designer underwear, not join a gym!

But back to the price thing. $900 for a year is not ridiculously expensive. But like that $49 whopper, there's the alternative. Buy your own gym set if you're that serious about it. Even if you bought an uber multi-thousand dollar set, you'll save in the long run. If you're cheap, buy a gym ball and a set of free weights and go chase the cars around the block every third day and that will do the trick. If you really wanted to join a gym, go to one where there's no services and no joining fees like the Monash Uni one which is about $650 for an annual pass. Half the reason why commercial gyms are so expensive is because of the services. You get the TV in front of the treadmill, the personal trainer to scream like a boot camp motivator, the"personalised" program, the newsletter, the company of other people that were also duped and the fake TLC. But is it worth that much?? If yes, then....well, you're either an idiot or on an annual salary of $100k...you lucky bastard.

I want to be a bar reviewer

Yesterday I went walking for a good 12 hours to, throughout and from the city. I'd like to sit here and show off by telling you that it was 12 hours non-stop walking without the use of public transport, but it wasn't. Nonetheless, I would not be surprised if I had clocked up enough pedometer mileage to walk from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia to Melbourne, Florida, USA. As a result of such a ridiculous decision in passing what would otherwise have been a boring Friday afternoon, I now have quite possibly the worst case of DOMS (muscle soreness) known to mankind. My manly pride compels me to suck it up and battle on, which is no doubt the reason why I made the even worse decision to walk through the city again today with Mum to go shopping. Of all the lower limb muscles that are royally screwed, it's the left hamstrings and left calves which are being a bitch. For all you physios that might read this, you'll understand why I wince everytime I try to fully extend my leg, or during the late swing phase or when I try to push off.

So what the hell was I doing anyway? Well the initial plan was to go into the city late afternoon to be Nick's wingman. But then I decided, why stay at home reading a book, when you can go into the city and do it there? And why not visit all those bars you've wanted to go to - albeit as a loner. Actually as I discovered, you'd be surprised at the large number of loners that drop into bars in the middle of the day for a drink. I just ended up being another one of them. Granted you can't really judge a bar until you've also taken into account the music and the crowd that go there at night. But eh, next time. All pictures are taken by me. And by "me" I mean I hawked them off other websites.

Workshop
If you ever one day think "geez, lets go have a drink and a bite at an old converted motorcycle garage", then go here. I would've missed the small garage door entrance if it weren't for Porter who was with me at the time for lunch. This place meets the Porter seal of approval, which means Joe Strummer and Billy Bragg would approve. A pity about there being only a pale ale on tap, but otherwise a pretty cool place indeed with a decent sandwich. Hell, they even made eggplant taste good. Summary: A testament to elbow grease and hard work.

Word
Walking off the wet street with dirty wet shoes made me feel half guilty for defiling the polished wooden floors. I'll definitely be coming to this classy mahogany place when winter comes by. Come in early to grab the seats around the fireplace and you'll be set for the rest of the evening. Candles on every table and comfy seats with equally comfy cushions make for a cosy watering hole that'd be sublime once outside temperatures dip below the tens. Summary: A perfect cold nighter.

Purple Emerald
Otherwise known as 'that bar we always pass when walking out of the usual parking lot but never go into'. Figured I should go see it one day. 'Tis alright. Reminds me of Spleen (where I had my birthday) with all the chilled out couches. But I'd much rather Spleen since it has a more homely feel to it, probably coz it's such a small place and the couches and seats are huddled together. Summary: When you can't be arsed walking far from the car for a drink.

Phoenix
This was the place all the Herald Sun journalists used to have their drinks so I half expected it to be like the newspaper - cheap, nasty and devoid of any sense of unbiased journalism. So you can imagine the irony upon walking into the place to see some dude reading The Age. I was quite impressed with the place, with its multi-level setup. I went to the downstairs bit where there was not a soul save for my book, and some classy empty couches. Summary: Elegant, yet casual drinking.

Madame Brussels
If any of you have visited Croft Institute you'd understand the legitimate fear for your life, firstly in walking down the darkest and narrowest lane in the CBD to get to the place, and secondly upon walking inside to see that you were essentially in your year 11 chemistry lab. Yes the place had a uniqueness, unrivalled by any other in the city, except for that ice bar which I haven't been to. Well now you can put this place down under the same heading. Forget that the namesake was a once infamous brothel owner. When the lift door opens to the third floor of the building the first thing that would probably hit you is the setting to Alice in Wonderland. I mean, what were they inserting into their veins when they decided to lay astro-turf inside this small room?? Ah well, it paid off. Go outside to the largeish balcony and you'll likely see two fat men in a small swimming pool. Yes, a swimming pool. And the barman will even walk by to serve you your drink as you sully the clearness of the water. Summary: Drinking in a fairy tale.

Double Happiness
I must admit this was a bit of a disappointment. Going by what I've read, seen and heard, I was expecting this Communist China themed bar to be full of wooden tables and stools, have walls plastered with pictures of Chairman how now brown Mao, and have old Chinese propoganda music in the background with lyrics that roughly translate to "China is growing! Destroy the blond-haired wide-eyes". What I got were two Aussie blokes serving me Beerlao in an otherwise standard bar that's only lightly themed and quite tiny. Summary: Still yet to find something communist that works.

6 Links
Probably the most futuristic looking bar I've been to, to date. Think dimly lit room with brightly coloured lights and seating that make saying "funky" totally acceptable once again. $4 spirits and cowboys during a 5-8pm happy hour!? If that's the future, I'm in! Summary: Dude, I drank with a jedi last night!Yeh, I need more friends.

I hear one of the horsemen coming

A frightening and insane number of bushfires rolling through the regional area. Power throughout most of the state cut-off. Traffic lights out in half the city. 42 degree heat melting everyone's skin. Pregnant ladies stuck in lifts with the hot sun beaming through the glass windows. Distraught callers phoning in distressed about how the folks in the nursing homes might die. Angry callers wondering why we weren't given prior warning. All we need now is a plague, or a giant asteroid, or a mushroom cloud. Sitting around the radio eating dinner with Mum two days ago during the blackout listening to 774, the feeling you get from it was that it was difficult to decide which was more of an emergency here - the fires themselves or the blackouts. At least it was relatively short lived and things are back to normal - we have electricity back, and the fires continue to roll through the bush like a bad case of cooties. Winter will eventually come, and with it the respite from the fires. But kids, we're in trouble. I'm sorry, but we really are. Continue at this rate and by the summer of 2015 we'll be having days of 1500 degree heat and will be suffering from oxygen deprivation because the trees have all been burnt down. Smoke will become the new air and being a fireman will become the new highest-paying job.

I hate to say it. I really do. I feel so dirty about saying this it makes me want to soak my tongue in concentrated hydrochloric acid for 24 hours...

The hippies are right about this one.

I need a new computer

A decade ago I knew EVERYTHING about computers. Well, at least everything that a pre-pubescent teen could know about. Not anymore. Today, I sit here typing on my uber Windows 98 computer - the one which my dad and brother decided to give me once they bought better computers for themselves...how generous. You know your computer is out of date when Microsoft goes "we will not be producing anymore updates for Windows 98". You also know it's out of date when you can't play two thirds of the videos on the internet because it uses a Windows Media Player that's too advanced for your ageing box of wires and electronics. Furthermore, you know it's time to get a new computer when it comes up with an error screen, in response to pressing a key to get rid of the previous error screen, which in turn was also in response to get rid of the previous error screen, and the result is that it doesn't even respond when you ask it to reboot itself.

And so I've decided to browse through some computers. I'm not sure I'll buy it just yet though. I might work for a bit so that I won't go into debt so early. The cost of this BEAST of a laptop computer I want complete with a processor that can process quicker than a speed camera can calculate the speed of my brother driving on the freeway, a video card that makes Finding Nemo look outdated, and RAM that enables the computer to multi-task better than any female in the world, is ~$5.5k :( Alternatively I can get one at half the price but then I won't be able to fulfil my role as a stay-at-home geek that wastes his life away playing computer games. So the options are:

1) Buy a cheaper one and thus not be able to play computer games. Hence I'll get out more, spending more spare boredom time exercising or going out with friends. My social life will be healthy and I'll give myself a better chance of finding a special lady friend. I'll also save up to $3k which I could use to invest in a corporate logging company but also donate to a fund that's saving an endangered species of snail to please my guilty conscience.
2) Buy this beast of a computer and watch as my posture becomes worse, my health deteriorate, my social life die, and respond to my depressing loneliness by befriending four "online girlfriends" simultaneously - two from Canada, one from Sweden, and one who is actually a 67 year old male paedophile that I ignorantly believe to be a "hot, sexy 24 year old 5'9 brunette with size C breasts"

Hmmm....I'll take option 2!!!

Melbourne is to fine wine as Sydney is to overpriced sewerage water

The cousins have moved on, Julius has gone to Sydney and the folks are back to work. That leaves a somewhat bored Terence at home to flick through channels and cook up lunches consisting of unsavoury and most likely rotten bits of food lying around the place. Today's special was fried rice consisting of spam that's been sitting in the fridge for the past three weeks. Mmmmmm.

Two days ago my cousins went around the city. Rather than stay at home holding cans of insect spray as I go on a cockroach patrol, I joined them for shits and giggles. Never in my own city have I felt like such a tourist. But after going around on the tourist shuttle I was reminded of one thing. Our city kicks arse. In fact, I'd be 100% sure I would never live anywhere else if it weren't for the fact that every spring the pollen decides to declare war on my nostrils, tear ducts and throat. Sure, I can think of other cities around the world which beats Melbourne in certain areas. But overall, we're a nicely rounded place that's exceptional in pretty much every aspect of a city...except maybe our public transport system which could be better. Which leads me to the next thing.

Melbourne is a fantastic place to live - often voted number one most livable city (along with Vancouver and I think Vienna). Sydney is different. It is a squat toilet. Granted, yes, it's been almost a decade since I visited Sydney. But there's a good reason why it's been almost a decade - it's a squat toilet. Quite frankly I would rather take a crap in the comfort of my own home without the need to sustain an adequate quadriceps contraction. Ok, if you asked me to go to Sydney with you I'd happily come along. I'd go there for their beaches, the harbour and circular quay. Then for the rest of the trip I would incessantly whine and bitch to you saying that the city is an overrated part of the world, with a success and fame that is attributable to the idiocy of all the Americans and South-East Asians who believe that it's the capital of Australia.

Let's analyse...

Live entertainment, music and comedy? Sydney has their opera house. But the last time I checked you can only have a few gigs at a time there. I'd rather have our luxury of finding a gig every second building along the little lanes. Oh, and we have the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.

And what about gambling? Star City Casino? Hah! A pokies room compared to Crown. Where is the inaugural $5 million Aussie poker championship being held at again? Oh that's right, at Crown.

Fashion, design, visual arts.... advantage us.

Sport... Sydney has the SCG, the golden slipper and the 2000 Olympics. We have the MCG and the Melbourne Cup (which is devoted an entire public holiday). No contest. By the way, we had the Olympics 44 years before you. Oh, there's also the F1 Grand Prix, the MotoGP, and the Australian Open Tennis. And at least the AFL is uniquely our own and not something taken out of England like, oh perhaps...rugby.

Food? Ok, bit of a tie perhaps. But then again Lygon St. makes Sydney's equivalent look foolish. And the Chinatowns? Well there's a reason why our Flower Drum is argued by some to be the best Chinese Restaurant outside of China. A 3 month waiting list can't go wrong!

Aesthetically our city looks unique, with our tram lines and old school Victorian buildings. Sydney tries to find its own niche, only to find itself riding on the trump card that is their natural harbour to make it look different to every other Vanilla city in the world.

And infrastructure. Oh man, at least in Melbourne we can turn left or right when we want to!

What else... Centrepoint Tower? Rialto beats you.

Haymarkets? Queen Vic Market...

Central Station? Flinders St. Station...

Gardens? Hello!... "Victoria - The Garden State"

I'll give Sydney a few things. Their beaches and The Rocks beats our equivalents. But then if I wanted that I'd go to Queensland. And their harbour trumps anything we can muster. The Opera House? Well there's a reason why the original architect - a European dude - left the project halfway through its construction, and refuses to visit it even today. It's because the Sydneysiders pissed him off too much, like all typical Sydneysiders.

But there's one thing that would've made Sydney our bitch. Named after one of the original inhabitants John Batman, our city used to be called BATMANIA!!! With that name this debate wouldn't even take place.

It's all about perspective

So my cousins have been around the past few days. Firstly the cousins I haven't seen for 14 years came down last week. Then the cousins I haven't seen for three or four years came just a few days ago. The latter set of relatives have taken hold of the house reducing me to a stiff-backed battler that's sleeping on an air mattress in the lounge room. Not that I don't mind letting them borrow my bed. It's just that two days prior notice from Mum doesn't quite pass off as ample warning. They've been around a bit already. They've done the shopping thing whilst I played bad cousin and sat on my arse at home watching the cricket. As a side note, how cool (winning the Ashes 5-0) yet sad (Warne, McGrath and Langer) was it? Anyway, we took 'em out for dinner and to Crown for a bit too. Walking through the poker room without joining in a game required quite a bit of self-control. Think Michael Schumacher or Fernando Alonso driving an F1 car through a 40km/h school zone, then put me in that picture and you've got an idea of how tempted I was. We travelled with them along the Great Ocean Rd. yesterday to Warrnambool to stay the night, before returning home today...although my cousins went on by themselves to the Grampians. Seeing as I was in her neighbourhood, I figured I'd message Jacqui to see if she wanted to catch up that night. But her telepathic powers are obviously not up to scratch as she returned to Melbourne yesterday! (Or maybe her powers are so good, she knew I was coming so left ahead of schedule...hmmmmm)

Anyways, with driving along the Great Ocean Rd. came the token visits to the touristy coastal landmarks, amongst others - the twelve apostles, otherwise known as "a couple of giant rocks sticking out of the ocean that tourists spend six hours driving from the city to see". I also affectionately call it "that place with all those damn freaking FLIES!"

But despite this being either the sixth or sixtieth time I've come to see them, it still fills me with a sense of awe. Most of you probably already know that I go through more digital camera memory than an arts student going through cheap vending machine-dispensed condoms. I take pictures of anything remotely photogenic. Whereas my kiddy days were spent pleading with Mum and Dad to take me to the go-karts or the wooden maze, these days I'd rather adventure through many different places, visiting as many geographical sightseeing wonders as I can.

So how do a couple of rocks seen multiple times still interest me? Well, it's all about the perspective. Seeing something this large and grand puts me in my place. It makes me realise that hey, you're nothing but a tiny little atom of a grain of sand in this speck of the solar system, in this little corner of the universe. Whatever little worry or stress you have seems like nothing in the grand scheme of things. Yes, it does make me sound like a little pansy, or even worse - a hippy. But that's what it does. It's part of the reason why I feel like travelling and visiting places like the Himalayas or the Pyramids or the Grand Canyon.

Viva la resolution!

Happy New Year! May the onset of this new year bring you the enthusiasm of renewed ambitions and the hope of more success before the reality of it doing the complete opposite sets in! My new year's resolutions are thus:

- Exercise more often, jogging at least twice a week as opposed to twice per year so that I can one day outrun a three year old kid.
- Play less dangerous driving games such as tap the brakes in front of the tailgater or overtake the speeding mac truck on this freeway bend or my personal favourite, how many times can you change lanes in 100 metres?
- Read more books in the hope that my English skills will become superior enough that I need not use random analogies when explaining things or so that my arsenal of cuss words extends beyond just the F-bomb.
- On that subject, use swear words less and replace them with smart, witty remarks such as "go home and drink your tea you English excuse for a batter" or "oh dear, it appears that my little toe has unintentionally stubbed the edge of the door and is now bleeding profusely".
- Actually eat a piece of fruit at least once per day...ok, maybe that's asking too much. Eat a piece of fruit at least once per week so that my body will one day experience the magical feeling of "being regular".
- For exercise reasons, eat less drive-in Hungry Jack's food and eat more take-away Hungry Jack's food.
- Play less PS2 and get out more in the hopes of making less imaginary friends, and perhaps more real ones.
- Clean my desk more often so that I will not break my record of finding a notice dating back four years ago buried underneath everything else.
- Use the spare change and not the notes when paying for things so that the amount I have in coins sitting on my desk will not be more than the total amount in my bank account.

My predictions for the year 2007:

- St. Kilda will finally win the flag after West Coast forfeit just before the Grand Final in Melbourne. This is due to the stupidity of their entire roster getting arrested after forgetting that all Victorian booze buses also now test for drugs. After being reported missing, Ben Cousins' car is also mysteriously found about 50 metres before the bus.
- Richard Branson will have built his spaceship by the end of the year and retreat, with his kids, to his secret society stationed on the far side of the moon.
- After pulling out of Iraq, George Bush will then set his sights on Kim Jong il and North Korea, with the reason that "this time there definitely are weapons of mass destruction there!"
- In a massive swing of opinion polls, John Howard will have a 95% approval rating by the year's end due to the combination of his decision to pull the troops out of Iraq and the civil war within Labor in which the five party leaders they go through during the year all end up killed by gunfire sprayed at each other.
- A breakthrough in science allows the first ever scheduled construction of a nuclear fusion reactor. Hippies around the world become divided as even though it is a clean, renewable energy source, it still contains the word "nuclear".
- By October we will be in stage 47 water restrictions whereby each family must have 10 buckets sitting outside when it finally rains, and then they must travel to their local dam and put that water in it once the rain is finished. You may also only drink just one glass of water X times per month. X being the number of letters in your surname. Authorities will forego issuing warnings but rather go straight to issuing on-the-spot sentences of death by simulated dehydration to any offenders.

In seriousness, let's all pray/hope/wish/dance that we get a decent amount of rain this year. :(