Personally, I stopped taking The Harold seriously as a news publication when it chose to illustrate a story about the melting artic icecaps (the arctic icecaps not being a region known for including any solid ground) with a picture of some snowy cliffs.
Stuff. Story - women look at pronz too. Picture - skanky under-dressed woman lying on a couch going 'here's my tits'.
Yes. That's what we're looking at. Still, I guess some portion of their readership would be terrified that a picture of an under-dressed man would give them teh gayz.
'The women seem very confident': and this is a bad thing, somehow? Meh. I'll take the philistine hell-hole, thanks.
AND we have lesbian haircuts and no cleavage. WTF is a lesbian haircut?
Christchurch people have "spontaneity, madness and sexiness. They dress more smartly than other New Zealanders too".
Yes, it is pretty easy to find the gay bars here.
But Craig is once again right, the guy's prose just isn't up to this level of vitriol. Evelyn Waugh? He's not even PJ O'Rourke.
This vulnerable youth was mostly influenced to perpetrate the following:
Mad props for Amy, that was hysterical.
Ha, now I only feel like a partial idiot, that's Nabokov, though I can't remember which book. But my gods, that prose...
But while I appreciate the efforts of all my big strong sciency men, physics has always produced a weird buzzing in the back of my brain that stops me taking in information. Chemistry, biology, no worries, but physics? I seem to be basically incompatible with it. I've noticed the same phenomenon with my partner and grammar.
I think I see where your confusion lies, Andrew...
I have never felt so much like an arts major in my life...
Last election year, I set up a blog specifically to mull things over in public, being an undecided voter for the first time in my life. In general it was quite civilised, but you really couldn't pay me* to do that again this year - I have a dark forboding feeling of oncoming nasties - from both sides. I think we'll get spill-over from the US elections. People will have all the primaries to get all spitty and entrenched.
More arts/lit/geek blogs for me, I guess.
*I wouldn't actually swear to that. We might need to experiment with it a bit.
Partly there's the public service element (case workers seem wildly varying in quality, in our much shorter experience than yours: some are worse than useless, other I'd want to put up for sainthood).
But it also sends a message: don't mess with us.
Eh, yeah. We've had three SES workers over the last seven years - at some point they stopped being 'facilitators' and became 'advisors', perhaps to remove any suggestion that they might be supposed to help. One was very, very good, and burnt out after about two years. What we have now appears to be the sort of personality that lasts a long time in these jobs - the Doesn't Give a Crap. Last year my mainstreamed daughter lost her itinerant hours, but we were told not to worry, because our faciliator spent a lot more time with the itinerant-less children.
We've seen her precisely once. Where we pointed out she hadn't done a bunch of stuff she said she would, she apologised, promised to do it, and didn't.
But at least Special Education has a divison especially for deaf kids. When they can be arsed, at least they know what they're talking about.
It was only a cheap $9.95 iron from the Warehouse. It's amazing to think that for only $9.95 they can afford to sell you an iron AND a piece of hilarious double-entendre. How do they make a profit?
Heh, well I hear writers get paid shite...
Man I love a good tangent...
This is a blog I wrote a bit back when I got into some trouble at Bardic Web with a US writer who was offended by my normal manner of expressing myself. It's basically exploring the idea that Kiwis swear more in the normal run of things (ie not trying to be offensive) than some other nationalities. And there's a link to a Canadian talking about how Kiwis talk, which I found really fascinating.
I came into the family room and found my then two year old daughter hammering away on her wooden peg toy, and saying, "Damn. Bug. Bug. Damn."
My daughter is hearing-impaired, and often used to pick things up not quite right. I did wander down the hall once to hear her singing the Inky Wanky Spider song.
Would it be all right if they were referring to a happy person?
Only if they're about a hundred and twelve.