The hand that holds the pasty
Jul. 14th, 2010 12:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyThat meme that's been going around: I write like Dan Brown, Stephen King, James Joyce and James Fenimore Cooper. I kept trying different entries until I got a name for the second time, which turned out to be Stephen King. Final try: PG Wodehouse. That's me, then: a mixed bag. And that's what this entry will be, I think.
I caught some of the sports news while I was waiting for the weather forecast last night, and was briefly delighted to hear of an Australian Rules football match in which Travis Cloke was in trouble for striking Travis Boak. If there was more rhyming in football, I'd follow it religiously. (pause) No, I wouldn't. Not even then.
The news today had some children and their aunt missing in the Glow Worm Tunnels. That sounds like a nice place to get lost, doesn't it? I'd rather be lost there than, say, Mount Disappointment. (The family has since been found, by the way.)
Exciting art news from the City by the Sea: our new sculpture has been installed. And six days later, someone stole one of the hands from the pasty-eating head. Sigh. It's back now. I'm not a huge fan of the statue, but stealing its hand made me cross. Sometimes I think I am only a few years off writing letters to the editor about Local Issues, which is the beginning of the end, really.
Looking for that statue article, I was distracted by the local paper's new fashion blog. In one entry, the blogger made a plea that leggings are for wearing under things, not as pants with short tops. It was hugely controversial. Not because of the content, but because a couple of commenters claimed they aren't called leggings, but leg-ins. Because they're things you put your legs in, you see. I have never heard that before, but there are apparently people prepared to go on the internet and swear to it. And look like idiots for getting it so wrong.
One of our casual workers showed someone through the office today: 'The kitchen's down there; that's Brian, he's the program manager; that's Alicia, she's awesome.' Which I am, obviously. Or is it that she doesn't know what I actually do? Hmm.
I caught some of the sports news while I was waiting for the weather forecast last night, and was briefly delighted to hear of an Australian Rules football match in which Travis Cloke was in trouble for striking Travis Boak. If there was more rhyming in football, I'd follow it religiously. (pause) No, I wouldn't. Not even then.
The news today had some children and their aunt missing in the Glow Worm Tunnels. That sounds like a nice place to get lost, doesn't it? I'd rather be lost there than, say, Mount Disappointment. (The family has since been found, by the way.)
Exciting art news from the City by the Sea: our new sculpture has been installed. And six days later, someone stole one of the hands from the pasty-eating head. Sigh. It's back now. I'm not a huge fan of the statue, but stealing its hand made me cross. Sometimes I think I am only a few years off writing letters to the editor about Local Issues, which is the beginning of the end, really.
Looking for that statue article, I was distracted by the local paper's new fashion blog. In one entry, the blogger made a plea that leggings are for wearing under things, not as pants with short tops. It was hugely controversial. Not because of the content, but because a couple of commenters claimed they aren't called leggings, but leg-ins. Because they're things you put your legs in, you see. I have never heard that before, but there are apparently people prepared to go on the internet and swear to it. And look like idiots for getting it so wrong.
One of our casual workers showed someone through the office today: 'The kitchen's down there; that's Brian, he's the program manager; that's Alicia, she's awesome.' Which I am, obviously. Or is it that she doesn't know what I actually do? Hmm.