A day in the life of a wife

Today I came across some of the weirdest posters I've ever seen. They're part of an educational series published in Australia during the 70's, illustrating a "typical" Japanese family going about their day, with a peculiar focus on the mother's role. Since there was no narrative accompanying the posters, I've written one to help you interpret what's going on...

That's me in the center - the one with the vacant smile. I like going to the Red Cross and staring at the patterns in the shirts. That and the 'ludes keep me pretty mellow. Anyway, let me walk you through a typical day in my life...

Before breakfast, my husband takes the children out for some calisthenics. And where am I while everyone else is enjoying a quick morning workout?

Right here. Making a full breakfast for the family. I find a little vodka on my eggs really helps the day go smoother.

At the table, I'm constantly on alert with the toaster so no one has to face the horror of cold bread. Of course this means I don't have time to actually eat, so I just sit here with my cup of coffee and empty plate while everyone else enjoys their eggs (which of course are cooked three different ways to satisfy their whiny asses).

I don't know about you, but I always bring my husband his mail while he reads the morning paper - heaven forbid he walk out to the mailbox and back. Thank god the vodka has kicked in...

(Meanwhile, the girl thinks, "Maybe if I hold really still and try not to grimace in fear too much, he'll stop showing off for the camera and let me leave.")

Finally, I fetch my husband his briefcase as he leaves. Lazy jackass can't be bothered getting it himself.

But of course then he always manages to lose it in the five frigging steps between the door and the car, so I have to get it for him. AGAIN. Sometimes I wish I could just smack him in the face with it. God, I need another drink.

Now that he's at work designing toy battleships (that's a 500:1 scale photo in the background) and pretending to read schematics, I can go about my day.

First to the store. Whoa. NICE carrot. If only my husband...hmmmmm...

In the afternoon, the stupid boy sits and sulks yet again while the girl mocks him and flings around the cookies I slaved over. AND she's put her goddam dirty toy ball on the table again even though I've repeatedly told her not to. Thankfully I have a mega-sized thermos of Valium-laced coffee. It's the only thing between me and filicide right now, plus it keeps a chirpy smile on my dial.

Ah dinner. Although I've prepared a feast, I only share a tiny morsel with the girl, to keep my figure slim and teach her proper female eating habits early on (hey, no one likes a fattie, right?).

And that's the end of my day! I hope you found it educational! Now I'm off to get some bourbon and take another look at that carrot. Toodles!

Finally, this last image wasn't really part of the series, but it was just too random to leave out:

Nice. If they get tired of wearing their kimonos, they always have the Swiss Miss costume as a backup.

Aussie Tip #1

See that word up there? Aussie? It's pronounced "Ozzy." Like the Osborne bat head biting guy. Australians like to mock Americans who pronounce it "Auwsee."

Along the same lines, Australia is Oz-tralh-yah, not Auw-strail-eeya* - hence the nickname "Oz." Total side note, but I used to know an Australian girl who swore that The Wizard of Oz was a story about Australia, based solely on that nickname. She was in her late twenties and absolutely refused to believe me about the novel's real origins. Then again, she also believed that if you broke your arm it was a sign of unrest in your life, and that negative thinking caused cancer, so...yeah.

*Hopefully my linguist friend Genius Beth will overlook my shockingly bad pronunciation guides. Oh, and I'm planning on making Aussie Tips a weekly feature. Or maybe biweekly. Or whenever I can think of something to write about.

Getting all dramatic

I'm somewhat bemused by the furor that has erupted in my extended family over the email I sent out yesterday. What started out as a joke has turned into something else entirely, and I've alternately been accused of lacking a sense of humor, being uncivil, and not understanding current affairs. I intentionally tried to keep my email lighthearted, but I've been somewhat saddened by the depth to which some people have defended the points in the original message; so now I'm going to respond - and this will be the only time - on a graver note. That's right, I'm going to get all deep and dramatic on you, so skip it if you want.

I am shocked that anyone would genuinely defend those ideas. Joke or not, it's not funny to advocate expelling immigrants on the basis of an unlearned language - it's even less amusing to champion shooting them at the border. In fact, it is extraordinarily racist, and I'm appalled that anyone would find such a "joke" to be funny, let alone defensible. Presenting it as a joke doesn't make it OK. It isn't funny, nor radically thought provoking, as one email respondent claimed (since obviously racism is such a new and radical idea!). If anything, it's a sad reflection on the depth of historical prejudice in the USA - so deep that a sick joke about the methodological expulsion and slaughter of a certain race is not only acceptable, but worthy of defense!

I'm sure I have my fair share of prejudices, but I'll stand up for the principles I believe in, regardless of whether or not it upsets people or causes them to accuse me of incivility. I'll take being uncivil over being a passive supporter of bigotry any day - no matter what humorous guise the bigotry takes. Obviously I found constantly receiving the original email to be annoying (hence my reply), but I also found it saddening that people would cheerfully forward a "joke" that espouses ideas I've overheard seriously suggested in more than a few conversations - so just how much of a joke is it, anyway? Or is the weak "but it's funny!" just the best defense that can be scraped up when challenged? But I guess it's easy to get on a bandwagon if you haven't personally faced any of these problems or even bothered doing any research - it's easy to ignore the truth when there's a far simpler untruth to cling to.

Now I'm done. I'm not going to keep rehashing this, nor will I apologize for a lighthearted email sent in rebuttal to patently ridiculous ideas.

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Notice anything different?

This blog first started as a replacement for our wedding website after we got married - Ben thought it might help to have something a little easier to update, instead of having to re-upload a page every time we wanted to add new information about our lives. But as it turned out, Ben wasn't terribly enthusiastic about adding posts, while I quickly became addicted (must be all the power going to my head, eh?). So today we agreed to revamp the blog with a new design and new name to better reflect the Wonder That Is Lisa.

I chose "Surviving Oz" for two reasons:

First, I'd like to write more about what it's like to live in Australia as an American expat - my experiences, thoughts and ruminations (although of course, this will probably end up coming second to my random posts on etsy and my crap cooking).

Second, there are a shitload of things here that will kill you.

I hope you like it.

Getting all political

EDIT: Well I've received a few more replies, and so far the majority are ranting about my "pompous diatribe" and how I obviously "can't take a joke." Possibly it was a "pompous diatribe." However, I am alarmed that people would think the original email was funny. Advocating the slaughter of immigrants is not funny or amusing - if anything, it should be a huge wake up call, and I am sorry that our society has denigrated to the point that anyone could laugh at that idea. I also find it interesting that extremely few of the recipients considered MY replies funny (except for Amy - thanks for the comment!) and instead became highly defensive. Obviously, humor only works one way, and it's not the way of tolerance and reason. Also, if these people really thought that any of this was funny...they wouldn't be getting so defensive.

* * * * *

I've received a ridiculous email about Bill Cosby's fantasy political platform about fifteen times so far this election year. Tonight I became frustrated enough with the absurdity of the ideas to decide I'd had enough, and sent out my own belligerent reply to those folks "kind" enough to send the original to me.

* * * * *

If I get another of these emails, I may throw up my hands in surrender and become a Swiss citizen. So to save you the effort of sending these to me, here are my responses for the record:


I HAVE DECIDED TO BECOME A WRITE-IN CANDIDATE. HERE IS MY PLATFORM:

(1) 'Press 1 for English' is immediately banned. English is the official language; speak it or wait at the border until you can.

English is not the official language of the United States. I know that many people think it should be, but let's just remember for a moment that United States was founded by immigrants, for immigrants. The usual argument is that English should be the official language because most inhabitants born here speak it and have done so for a few centuries. But if you want to propose a national language based purely on habitation claims, then logically you have to nominate an Native American language. It was spoken here long before English. But I'm guessing logic isn't playing much of a part in any of the items on this list.


(2) We will immediately go into a two year isolationist posture to straighten out the country's attitude. NO imports, no exports. We will use the 'Wal-Mart' policy, 'If we ain't got it, you don't need it.'

I actually burst out laughing when I read this. Really? No, really? Do you know where your clothes are made? Your food comes from? Your cars are built? (Hint: it's not the USA.) For that matter, do you know how expensive it is to buy solely American owned and made products? Go try it sometime. Do you really think for one second that the phenomenally spoiled American population, some of the greatest consumerists on the planet, would be happy paying $5 for an apple? (And wouldn't that just be the best thing for anyone in a low income bracket?) That's what will happen if you ban imports and exports: prices will skyrocket, because availability will decrease. This won't "straighten out the country's attitude," it will make the current crisis dive into a tailspin. It's not rocket science, it's basic economics.


(3) When imports are allowed, there will be a 100% import tax on it.

Sure. See above. Also, way to be wishy washy on your import/export stance!


(4) All retired military personnel will be required to man one of our many observation towers on the southern border. (six month tour) They will be under strict orders not to fire on SOUTHBOUND aliens.

For a country founded on immigration, I find it astonishing that so many Americans are so militant about illegal immigration. Yes, it's clearly a problem. Yes, it needs a solution. That solution is not to be found in violence. Do you know how difficult and incredibly expensive it is to immigrate legally? Really, go look it up. The solution is not to shoot people, it's to revamp the immigration system to allow people other than the wealthy (in other words, the people that really NEED to find hope and a better life in America) an easier path into the States. Why is it that the first instinct of so many Yankees is to hit someone in the head with a rock instead of offering a helping hand? 99% of your ancestors immigrated here, which makes you no better than anyone who is currently trying to immigrate, regardless of their country of origin, skin color, accent or legal status. Also, I'm sure all the retired military personnel will thank you for forcing them to move to the southern border, regardless of family ties or preference.


(5) Social security will immediately return to its original state. If you didn't put nuttin' in, you ain't gettin nuttin' out. The president nor any other politician will not be able to touch it.

Well I can tell you've done your research on this one. Of course, when it was originally created in the late 1930's, women and minorities were excluded from benefiting from Social Security. Roughly about half the working population were therefore exempt. And women only qualified for insurance through their husbands, while black families were assessed as needing less money than white families. Sounds like a sweet deal to me! Let's totally revert to the original state!


(6) Welfare - Checks will be handed out on Fridays at the end of the 40 hour school week and the successful completion of urinalysis and a passing grade.

So your proposed welfare restrictions will only apply to people attending school? Who wrote this list, a 15-yr-old?


(7) Professional Athletes --Steroids - The FIRST time you check positive you're banned for life.

This got my biggest eye roll ever. What the hell is an item about professional sports doing on a proposed political bill? In the current economic crisis, is this really a big enough issue to warrant inclusion on an election platform and garner votes? What kind of redneck does it take to put steroids on equal footing with immigration and economic issues?


(8) Crime - We will adopt the Turkish method, the first time you steal, you lose your right hand. There are no more life sentences. If convicted, you will be put to death by the same method you chose for your victim: gun, knife, strangulation, etc.

I find it amusing that the same people who cheer this list are the ones that solemnly nod when Biblically instructed to "turn the other cheek." Yes, some people are lost causes, but you need to acknowledge that there is a lot of failure in the cyclical nature of the current justice system. How about you put a little thought into how it could be reformed to help people instead of punishing them? I'm not advocating a total reversal and lack of punishments, but it's the old carrot vs. stick approach. (As a side note, this is an Islamic (sharia) law - and you know, dressing women in burkas would really help them not to be objectified and therefore lower sex crimes, too!)


(9) One export will be allowed: Wheat. The world needs to eat. A bushel of wheat will be the exact price of a barrel of oil.

Wheat? Really? Although the USA is the leading exporter of wheat, production has been declining for decades and it actually consists of a minor percentage of our exports. But I'm sure you totally knew that because you've done your homework on these issues, right? (For anyone who actually cares, you already know that capital goods make up nearly half our entire export income.) Way to give the ole economy a solid knee in the groin, Jim Bob! Manufacturing will die, farmers will go out of business, and major IT and medical companies will leave the US to set up overseas. Researchers would doubtlessly leave as well, since banning exports would also effectively ban major scientific projects that require international collaboration (which pretty much equals...all of them). What are you going to do? Forbid any US citizens to leave the country or do business overseas? That is one hell of a civil rights violation.


(10) All foreign aid using American taxpayer money will immediately cease and the saved money will pay off the national debt and ultimately lower taxes. When disasters occur around the world, we'll ask the American people if they want to donate to a disaster fund and each citizen can make the decision whether it's a worthy cause.

This is a great way to rebuild our international reputation. Really. It's also a great way to say thanks to other countries that gave the USA foreign aid after Sept 11. That's right, we received aid - the UK sent specialists with thermal imaging technology not available here. Canadians opened their hearts and homes to stranded families. Hell, even the French sent over specialized machinery to help with the excavations. But that's not really important, is it Cletus? Being the bully in the schoolyard is much more fun than playing with the other kids. (And in case you're wondering, yes, international reputation in a nuclear world matters. A lot.)


(11) The Pledge of Allegiance will be said every day at school and every day in Congress.

This is one of those pesky Freedom of Speech issues, kids. Yeah you could make it mandatory, but then you can make saying (or, perhaps more importantly, not saying) just about anything mandatory. Your brain isn't an oversized paperweight - think this through a little.


(12) The National Anthem will be played at all appropriate ceremonies, sporting events, outings, etc.

See above. Damn that pesky First Amendment! It spoils EVERYTHING.


Sorry if I stepped on anyone's toes but a vote for me will get you better than what you have and better than what you're gonna get. Thanks for listening and remember to write in my name on the ballot in November. God Bless America !!!!!!!!!!! Bill Cosby!!!!!!!!


And about Bill Cosby - a quote from snopes.com:

"We don't know who authored this reactionary "platform" for a write-in presidential candidate, but it was not (as a representative has confirmed) entertainer Bill Cosby. When Dr. Cosby speaks out politically, it is generally to urge blacks to take responsibility for making the most of education opportunities and eschewing choices that limit their potential for success. Immigration, imports, foreign aid, steroid use in sports, and insufficient recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance and the national anthem are not his political betes noires. (This "platform" has also been attributed to comedian George Carling, and it's equally out of tune with that late comedian's commonly expressed political views.)"

So let stop sullying Cosby's name with this ridiculous tripe, shall we?

* * * * *

So far, my only reply has been from an offended person telling me that the First Amendment applies to everyone, including those with views not in line with mine, but that "unfortunately civility is optional." I replied that is very true - that to encourage the idea of shooting people as they cross a border is, indeed, extraordinarily uncivil.

Look, I'm all for freedom of speech. I think that any idiot should be allowed to say whatever they want to say, without fear of repercussions. I really do. We're allowed to say and disagree with whatever we want, and that is a very precious freedom. But I also wish that people would just sit and think for a moment before they start proclaiming what a good idea the things on this list are. The ideology of the United States is supposed to be one of tolerance, open minds and welcoming arms. How is it "American" to champion closing borders, killing immigrants, and stripping citizens of their First Amendment rights? Not to mention that I still have no idea what a line about steroid use is doing on someone's ideal political platform.

So. Am I just an uncivil hard ass?

Apparently, I'm a cranky old lady

Following on the fashion rant from my last post, I have to mention something I saw when I was out shopping.

So there I am, prowling discontentedly through the shirts, when I look to my right and see a young teenage girl in a short skirt. No, I mean a short skirt. It barely - and I do mean barely - covered her butt cheeks. Much like this:

Chloe Sevigny and the napkin she wrapped around her waist her skirt.

I actually wanted to go wrap my jacket around her waist to help cover her embarrassment when she realized she'd left the house without remembering to put on pants. And then I looked up and realized that the mall was full of them, and I didn't have enough jackets to go around. Dude. This is not a good trend. Maybe I'm just old fashioned, but where are these kids' parents? If I tried to head out the door dressed like that, I'd have been tackled and then wrestled into a parka.

You could argue that I'm just jealous because my thighs long ago passed the point where I could pull this look off, but that's really not the point. I don't believe in skirts so skimpy that you can't bend over, squat, kneel down or meet a mild breeze without the world becoming your gynecologist. Or, for that matter, skirts that are so short that your bare ass cheeks are the only thing touching the chair when you sit down (can we say: eeeew).

Maybe I should just be grateful that (as far as I know) the mall girl was wearing underwear, unlike some people:

You can take the girl out of the trailer park...

Or maybe I'm just a cranky old lady with no idea about the cool trends for young kids these days. But this is just one trend I can't get behind. Sorry.

Fine. I'll just go naked.

I went shopping this afternoon to find some new shirts. Spring is finally here, which means I have to retire the thick, long sleeved tops I've been wearing for the last few months. I didn't think this would be a problem, since I've always enjoyed shopping. Until now.

What have I done to deserve this kind of torture? What kind of crack are the designers on this season? I'm a fairly curvy girl. Admittedly packing some extra pounds, but with an hourglass shape. I could starve myself for the rest of my life and I'd still have boobs and hips, courtesy of those good ole Italian genes. Apparently this makes me a sartorial outcast, because I could not find one.single.shirt in a style that's wearable with anything more than a flat chest. Seriously. Not one.

And so, without further ado - my most hated trends this spring:

Ruffles

Ruffles: for boobs that need some extra attention.

Unless you're built like a ironing board, massive ruffles decorating your boobage is not a good look. It's just not. It's like putting doilies on watermelons - ultimately, it only makes people stop and stare and wonder what in the name of little green apples you were thinking. Instead of balancing your figure, it's like screaming, "WOOHOO! Look at these! Go ahead, take a gander! Aren't these just the most massive, ruffly funbags you've ever seen?"


Smock tops

Pregnant: it's the new black.

I'll repeat: boobs, people! This is a style that really only works on the flat chested and hip-less. Smocks were developed for pregnant people, and that high seam on the chest makes the rest of us (even the skinniest twigs, which I most certainly am not) look pregnant, especially if you have boobs that make the top hang out more than half an inch from your stomach. Yes, it might camouflage my muffin top, but the overall effect encourages total strangers to cheerful inquire when the baby is due. Why do designers think this is desirable? I realize infants are the accessory du jour in Hollywood right now, but that's no reason that the rest of us need to look knocked up.

Shapeless tunics

Why, God? WHY???

Again: these are good for pregnant people. And ONLY pregnant people. I honestly cannot understand why anyone would want to wear this. Look at that model. You could slice cheese with those clavicles and then pick your teeth with her arms, and I seriously doubt she's even so much as looked at a carb in six years. And yet she looks like she's packing loaded saddlebags. Do you know what this silhouette does to the rest of us, who actually eat grilled cheese sandwiches?


I'm trying again tomorrow. With luck, I won't have to go around all summer dressed like a pregnant, overdecorated set of watermelons. Wish me luck.

Things I've learned from living with a nerd

Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. No really - it is.

Ben loves this day. When we were picking out a wedding date, he actually suggested we get married Sept 19, but I vetoed it on the grounds that he might suddenly whip out something like, "Aye matey! I do take this lusty wench in scurvy and in health..."

So in honor of my geeky pirate, here are a few other things I've learned from living with a nerdy husband:

All gaming achievements are to be lauded. Mock his in-game accomplishments, and you're mocking him. Even when the accomplishment is the shooting down of a rival spaceship and you're given an agonizingly detailed fifteen minute description of the events leading up to the hit.

I'm sure Ben will see this and comment to me that it's a screenshot from an old version of Eve. Yes, yes it is. It's also the only one I could find with an explosion in it. Go figure.

All gaming failures are to be ignored. When listening to the saga of how he took down the rival spaceship, don't bring up the fact that he usually gets his ass handed to him on a platter. Instead, dole out the praise and present a sympathetic face. He'll flourish like a house plant. (Well, not MY house plants, since I think my treatment of them borders on abuse. But someone's, I'm sure.) As a side note, when you're informed of the demise of a spaceship (or mage/warrior/whatever), the appropriate response is not to roll your eyes and walk away, but to observe a moment of respectful silence. If you know how to play the taps, that's a nice touch as well.

You can be clothed entirely in apparel from thinkgeek.com. Shirts, ties, hoodies, hats, hell - even a manskirt kilt. Well except for underwear. Unless you're a girl. Or unless you just like wearing girl's undies. Not that there's anything wrong with that...

So...many...bad...jokes...

They're low maintenance. Pizza, coke, booze of their choice and a good internet connection, and they're set for the next five hours. Or three days, depending on the amount of raids they have set up with their online buddies. But obviously you'll need more pizza.

Yes, that is Darth Vader made of olives.

Everything on this craigslist post is true. Yes everything. Marrying Ben was the best decision I ever made. Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day, honey.

T-minus 99

That's 99 shopping days until Christmas, kids.

I'm sure there are people out there who are rolling their eyes at anyone starting to even consider gift buying before November (along with those freaks who have it all finished by June), but when you have to ship everything overseas from Australia, you need to get a headstart. Or you can wait until the last possible minute, then pay $300 in shipping charges even though it will still arrive late. Which I may have done in the past. Twice.

Anyway, I suppose I'm lucky in that I don't have that many people to shop for. Five isn't a lot, really...although I guess it's ten if you include Ben's family in the count - which I probably should, since I inevitably end up choosing their presents. Anyhoo, gift buying is always such a tricky proposition. If I was a bajillionaire, I think I'd have an easier time...but unfortunately, budget usually gets in the way. So here are my dream gifts - what I'd give if money wasn't an object:

The mom
Mom is a very practical woman, not into fashion or pampering. For this reason, I usually like to give her things that she would never buy - pretty, unpractical things that she loves but would never splurge on for herself. She was always a hard worker, and I remember wishing as a teen that she'd take more time out for herself. So how about a nice spa treatment? In, say...Bora Bora? Staying in the best room at the St Regis Resort, plus spa treatments, meals, and first class airfare, I'd say we can safely round it up to about $37,000 for a week. There are two bedrooms, so we might as well double that so her best friend can tag along. Chump change.

The dad
He's always a toughie. I seldom have any ideas until inspiration strikes at the last moment (probably brought on by desperation). This year I got the brilliant idea to buy him a Frank Frazetta print; fantasy art is not my style, but Dad really likes Frazetta's work. Then I discovered that they're actually highly collectible - and therefore highly priced. But how awesome would it be to get an original drawing? If you want, this sketch can be yours for only $55,000:

The stepmom
I have to admit, my stepmom is pretty easy to shop for. She's pretty keen on her draft horses and likes anything with a Clydesdale on it, and she also collects teacups, which is generally a safe fallback gift. I don't think she has any quite like this though - it's a Clarice Cliff tea set from 1932, and I find the quirky styling and sweet shepherdess theme utterly charming. And at $5,000, it's a total steal!

The big sister
My sister is an uber nerd. A science lover. A reader. How about a first edition of Einstein's Die Grundlage der allgemeinen Relativitatstheorie (that's his General Relativity Theory for those of us who don't speak German)? It's not in great shape, but that brings the price down to only $4,000. Bajillionaire Lisa could find that kind of change just digging through the couch cushions. I'll sprinkle it with diamonds to up the value.

The little bro
For years, the little bro wanted to be a fighter pilot. In fact, his childhood nickname was Ace. (Well, he also had other, ruder nicknames thanks to his older sisters, but we won't go into that now.) This Christmas, I could shove him in a MiG-29 fighter jet and let him fly around Moscow for five days. Here's the kicker: I have no idea how much this costs, since the price isn't posted on the website. However, a little internet research has told me that this company provides jet flights from about $3,000 - $30,000. The price packages in the lower range are all posted, so I'm guessing this is probably at the more exclusive end of the scale.

The husband
Ben is simultaneously the trickiest and simplest person on my list. If I asked him what his ideal gift would be, he'd probably say either a flash new computer for gaming or a tricked out mountain bike. But those things are really too obvious. A 6 month trip through Europe though...now that would be sweet.

Let's leave the cost open ended on this one, shall we? I'm going to need a shopping budget.

Australians eat the strangest things

(Yes, another food post. Apparently I'm on a roll.)

Aussies are somewhat infamous for voluntarily eating food so disgusting that it causes strong men to faint in other parts of the world. Vegemite is probably their most famous delicacy (I use the term delicacy in much the same sense that some cultures employ it to describe the culinary delight of eating a tiger scrotum), but I find the most interesting foods in Australia are their candy - or lollies, as they like to call them. And I discovered the weirdest candy last week: Teeth and Bottles.

These seem so strangely random. Wouldn't teeth and tongues make a more logical combination?

First, the teeth. They're supposed to be peppermint, but I swear to god they taste just like toothpaste. Not good. Not good at all. You might as well go have a chew on the Colgate.

Mmmm. Minty fresh dentures.

To give you some idea of how bad it is, this is what happened when I gave it to Korben the Wonder Dog:

Note the spit bubbles. Proof that he did actually TRY to eat it.

This is a dog that enjoys licking his own butt and has to be physically restrained from gobbling up cat vomit - and even he wouldn't choke it down. In fact, the look of absolute betrayal on his face was so damning that I felt obliged to give him a doggie treat to make amends. I'm a sucker.

The bottles aren't bad - kind of a dull, uninteresting vanilla flavor. It's possibly the blandest candy I've ever tasted.

Boooooring.

A while back, I made another interesting discovery among Australia's confectionery delights: musk sticks. People I know and trusted actually encouraged me to eat these. Musk sticks. Musk. Like the ox. Or a ferret. It's basically perfumed sugar held together with a binder and pressed into a vaguely star shape.

Complete with a mouse for scale. I'm generous like that.

Frankly, it smells like an 80-year-old woman's underwear drawer. I'm not easily grossed out, but I couldn't get it past my nose and into my mouth no matter how much my co-workers urged me to try it (and no, it wasn't a gag - I've seen them all happily devouring this apparently delectable "treat" several times since then). Sorry, I don't eat things that smell like an old lady's perfume sachet.

And even after six and a half years in this country, I'm still not accustomed to eating chocolate flavored effigies of infants:

Does this packaging seem, well...questionable...to anyone else?

I have to say though, Australia did score a win with me today. Because today I discovered Caramel Latte Twix. I'm blithely assuming these are only sold here (or only here and potentially in England, since they get most goodies first before deigning to pass them on to the colony down south), simply on the basis that a five second Google search only turned up Australian websites. I am therefore declaring it an Australian triumph of innovation and ignoring the fact that I'm most likely dead wrong.

Heaven in a foil wrapper.

I love caramel lattes. Love. With a passion. In fact, you can see a cup in the background of that photo - evidence of said passion overcoming my dietary virtue this afternoon. I love them so much that Ben teases me about stalking Joel, my Coffee Making Dude. Obviously, Ben is just jealous because he can't make a caramel latte like Joel. If Joel ever quits, I will be brokenhearted. His coffees are insanely good. He must be magical. Either that or he laces his coffees with crack. But back to the candy. I've never really been a huge Twix fan - they're OK, but not really special. Sort of the tighty whities of the candy world - functional, but not attractive. Until now.

Come to me my darlings!

Sweet holy mother of Maude. For the first and probably last time in my life, I am going to use the phrase "tastebud explosion." That bad boy disappeared within about a minute and a half of the photo being taken. That is some out and out crazy goodness. Stop reading, get up, and go buy one now. You can thank me later.

Food is fun

I was doing my monthly bookmark clean out (yes, I bookmark a lot of pages. Like...a lot. Every month. It's a compulsion, I can't help it.) and realized there was a minor theme running through my Entertainment folder (yes, I also organize them all into folders as I go - hallmark of the librarian, folks.).

That theme was food (possibly not surprising, given my own questionable efforts at cooking), and these are a few of my favorites; for your sake, I've divided them into two categories (wheee! categories! god I love organizing stuff): the Good, which are interesting or funny, and the Nasty, which you might not want to read while eating.


THE GOOD

Pimp That Snack

That oversized Snickers has more than 16,000 calories. Sweet baby Jeebus, that is a heart attack on a plate.

Users submit photos and recipes of enormous versions of everyday snacks - giant Mars bars, enormous Twinkies, monster Creme Eggs...it's enough to drive you into a sugar coma just by looking at the photos. There is even a huge Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Someone obviously knows the way to my heart.

Cake Wrecks

Naked mohawked babies riding carrots. Sometimes I just have no words.

This is where deformed cakes go to die. Badly decorated, inappropriate, ugly and tragic cakes abound. And it makes for some very funny reading.

Smitten Kitchen

That is a Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake. You're welcome in advance.

OK - technically, this isn't an entertainment site. It's actually a very, very good cooking blog. However, I have yet to try any of her recipes (the downside of living in the southern hemisphere is that our seasonal ingredients aren't available at the same time as hers), so I just look at all the pretty photos. And damn, they ARE pretty. And the food is drool-worthy.


THE NASTY

Steve, Don't Eat It

I'm gagging just looking at this. I can't believe Steve actually put that in his mouth.

My most recent find, and possibly the grossest. Basically, Steve finds very gross foods. And then eats them. This is nasty. And also very hilarious.

James Lileks's Gallery of Regrettable Food

Mmmm...warm spew. With peas, 'cause you gotta eat your greens.

The granddaddy of gross food sites (Lileks has even had two books published on the topic), and possibly my favorite. Whereas Steve picks food from the here-and-now, Lileks gleefully scans photos of food from old recipe books - that's right, food that people actually thought looked good enough that they would not only tell you how to make it, but encourage you to eat it. *shudder*


I've procrastinated enough - time to get back to the clean out. Compulsive bookmarking is such a devastating addiction...anyone know of a good support group?

Best little whorehouse in Sydney

Brothels are intriguing. Let's just get that out of the way right now, before you ask what I was doing reading an interview with a Sydney sex worker (licensed, regulated brothels are legal in Australia, although streetwalking is not in most states). The article was interesting, but the slideshow of interior photos was what I was really after. I was dying of curiosity to see inside that place.

Up until this point my only exposure to brothels* had been Dolly Parton swanning around in The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, so I expected a fair amount in the way of fringed lamps and slightly seedy singing cowboys with too-tight pants.

Sometimes I think it's strange that I was allowed to watch this movie as a child, but was banned from seeing The Terminator. Hmm.

Anyhoo, the Golden Apple resembles a swanky boutique hotel more than anything. Well, a boutique hotel with nude portraits and an unusual amount of hand lotion, but a boutique hotel nonetheless. (Oh and if you're at work, you might want to think twice before clicking on that link - I'm just sayin'.)

The clients' pre-visit entertaining area. Nice fireplace.

And the difference between the staged rooms and the areas behind the scenes is fascinating - the lush waiting area gives way to a spartan locker room where the girls prepare and store personal items and props.

Red light - what else?

I don't know why it surprised me so much - maybe because it reaffirms that underneath the seductive outer layer, this really is just a business. It reminds me of waiting tables at a restaurant in a posh hotel, moving from the plush dining room into the noisy, utilitarian kitchen. Although of course I didn't get quite so...involved...with my clients. And my tips weren't as big.

Finally, a bedroom shot, since I know that's what y'all are really interested in, whether you'll admit it or not:

Holy stack of towels, Batman!

I can't say that any of these fairly pleasant photos ultimately make the the practice more attractive - the idea of renting out your body still isn't exactly appealing - but it's fascinating to glimpse such a different world.

I wonder if they do tours.

(Just kidding, Mom - KIDDING!)

(Sorta.)

* Oh, I take that back - a few years ago, I watched a documentary about the lives of the girls in a Nevada brothel (possibly HBO's Cathouse, but I don't think it was). The single most memorable moment was watching a newlywed husband talk about how he didn't mind that his new wife had just started work in the brothel - that it was a good living, he was comfortable with the arrangement, and she was happy. Then he went outside and threw up. Yeah...

Today is a red letter day

Today I discovered something momentous. Life changing. Something that alters the very way I exist in this world. Today I discovered, for the very first time, that there was a third Anne of Green Gables movie.

It's OK, I'll pause while you recover from the shock. Or maybe that's just me.

I can't even begin to tell you what these movies meant to me while growing up - I watched Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea so much that the tape started to wear out (that's right kids, we used to watch moves on tapes - neolithic, I know).

I wish I could rock a beret like that. Hell, she even looks better in a straw hubcap than I do.

Possibly more than any other films and books, these shaped my childhood fantasies. I so wanted to be the impetuous Ann-with-an-e, with fiery red hair and a penchant for drama and a cutie pie doctor giving me cow eyes every time I walked by even though I broke a slate over his head because he called me Carrots (I also would have settled for being called Cordelia and having nut brown hair, but that's really neither here nor there).

This so could have - nay, SHOULD have - been me.

And now...now there is a third. Now I have discovered that all my life, I have been deprived of Anne's further adventures (what's up with that, Mom?). From the cover, it looks like she has a wee bairn, but we won't hold that against her - by the end of the book series, she had SEVEN of the little mongrels. Yup, they were breeders in those days.

Hopefully the little blighter won't be too annoying. I'm such a child person, can you tell?

Apparently Anne and Gilbert (have I shown you the cute doc yet? No? Here. What? I like sweet nerdy types.) move to New York. I don't remember this plot from the books, but I have to admit that it's been a good fifteen years since I've read them, and frankly they all kind of blurred together after the first two or three - in my defense, there are eight of them.

I've already put in a loan request for the first film from my library (and hey, visit your local library, folks! good deed for the day now = done), which we'll be watching over the next few nights. Not that Ben knows this yet. But hey, that's what marriage is all about: suffering through your spouse's TV selections.*

* Note to Ben: this still doesn't mean I'll willingly watch NCIS (unless they kill off Abby), The Unit (unless I can be magically transported into the TV to bitchslap all the female characters) or Horatio Hornblower (so many jokes, so little time).