Fri, 30 Sep 2005
We've finally found the replacement for Sushi Suma within walking distance.
We were actually thinking about trying Bokkeman, purely on the cute name alone*, but goodness gracious! Their service is apparently awful, according to the Eatability website:
Japanese restaurant with Chinese service... My Japanese friends now refuse to go back because the service is so bad... HIGHLY "NOT RECOMMENDED".
Fuuki was excellent, however. There's nothing quite like going to a restaurant knowing nothing about the service or food quality and finding both excellent.
* Q: How do you get Pikachu on to a bus? A: You poke him on.
Mon, 26 Sep 2005
After 10 years together, including almost one year as a married couple, we're finally about to really, really commit to each other. By getting a joint bank account.
So last week I closed my old account, and rolled all my money (sorry, OUR money) over into our shared account. Which I don't yet have an ATM card for.
You know where this is going.
Not four days later, I found myself skint. And I had to go to a mates place, to watch the grand final. And I couldn't turn up empty handed. I needed some dough.
I had to turn to the wife, cap in hand.
As she withdrew money from the ATM later that day, she handed me $100.
"Here you go," she said cheerfully. "Here's your allowance for the week."
"What is this? This is only $100! I usually go through about $150!"
"Well, you'll just have to adjust then." She smiled a beatific smile. 'At last,' she was thinking. 'At last, I have him under my control! Ha ha ha ha ha!!!'
Best. Grand final. Ever.
I don't care if it wasn't the most skilful display of footy. Grand finals never are. It was the most exciting and tense game I think I've ever seen.
I was sending SMSs through the game with the Best Man, who was watching it at 6am in Geneva with a Scottish mate. Which meant he probably spent half the game explaining the rules, and only half the game concentrating on the action and his beer.
Steph and I watched the game at my mate Taz's place, where there were meat pies and beer for everyone. Not everyone there was a dyed-in-the-wool footy supporter, so it was good to see a game which had the potential to convert a few to the world's greatest sport.
Each quarter was a self-contained battle, a tight, dour game where the slightest let-up could allow the opposition to score. In such a low-scoring game, each goal was critical.
There were clashes, bloodied players, amazing bursts of speed and skill and desperation. Two incredible coat-hangers from Barry Hall. A superb effort from Lewis Roberts-Thomson, a player who you'd curse at getting in a sweep for the Norm Smith Medal, but who played the best game of his career, right when it mattered. Michael O'Loughlin got the yips, and even when he passed off, managed to flub the kick. Luke Ablett's kick that almost lost them the game.
And then, two minutes before the end, with Sydney so close to it's first premiership in 72 years, my phone rings.
I suspect I know who's on the other end. No, I KNOW who it will be. Only one person would dare interrupt the closest, most important game of the year at its most critical moment.
I pulled the phone out, cancelled the call and turned it off. WHY?! Why would she call at a time like this?! What could possibly be that important?!
Anyway, the Swans hung on to win, and everyone was in agreement. That was a bloody good game.
Last week was just crazy. This week is likely to be the same.
Sometimes - not often - but sometimes, work just sucks. I need a holiday.
"Uuuurrrgrghhhhhh!!" comes the scream from the kitchen.
"What? What is it?" I rush in.
Kathleen points to the sink, in which a bunch of leafy greens is soaking in water. In the midst of the leaves is a slug.
"I don't want that thing in my kitchen!"
I grab a tissue and wipe the bug up and throw it out the window, as Kathleen shivers in disgust.
And I remember a card she got for me once upon a time with a cute little message:
If I could be anything
I think I'd be a slug
Then I could slime right up your sleeve
And give you a great big hug
"That's disgusting."
You decide.
(I got 9 out of 10!).
Mon, 19 Sep 2005
On Friday, Kathleen and I, along with a bunch of others, headed to the Sydney Aussie Rules supporters club in Kings Cross to watch the Sydney-St Kilda preliminary final. Of course, contrarian I am, I was wanting St Kilda to win. Mainly because I still can't get to grips with no Victorian teams in the AFL, but also because the Sydney supporters are starting to get a bit too cocky.
The settings themselves were nothing special - it's just an RSL with some pokies and a few bars. The non-smoking bar had the biggest line, too. Plus the club didn't have cable TV, so we were watching the delayed Ten telecast.
But, the game. Again, a heart-stopper, until three quarter time, when the Swans blew the entire game open. To take the last seven goals of the game is a pretty comprehensive thumping, and they'd be almost favourites for next week. Almost.
With the supporters going absolutely crazy as each goal, each nail in St Kilda's coffin, went through, it was pretty obvious to see the people who weren't on the bandwagon. We were the ones sitting down. Two of us, plus one bloke who spent the entire game reading the local rag. Who brought him along?
Ivan, who's absolutely mad, was at the SCG the next morning at 7am to get in line for Grand Final tickets.
He's got two.
He'll be off to watch his team play, and hopefully win, the premiership next week. All supporters dream of such a day. And if they win...
Thu, 15 Sep 2005
"Merv Hughes," said Kathleen, as she sat typing at the computer.
"Huh?" I replied. That came a little out of nowhere.
"Merv Hughes."
"Ummm... what about him?"
Now it was Kathleen's turn to be puzzled.
"What?"
"You just said 'Merv Hughes'. What about him?"
She turned to look at me, so I wouldn't misunderstand.
"Moooove your shoooooes," she said slowly, pointing to my shoes placed strategically near the front door. "They're in the middle of the front door and I don't want to trip over them tomorrow morning."
Oh.
A big, hearty thank you to all those people (and there have been a lot of you) who've sent that typo from last Saturday's Muckury sports page. It was very much appreciated. It was so popular, it even made the subscription email list from Crikey. Who'd have known and 'u' and 't' keys were so close to the 'n'...
Sun, 11 Sep 2005
Poor Cabramatta doesn't have a very good reputation. The second result in a Google search is a transcript from a 1997 4 Corners report on the heroin trade there. Nice.
Luckily, Cabramatta was on it's best behaviour when we went there with Eva and Steph for the Moon Festival. Even though we didn't stay for the lantern parade after sunset - given the hour-long train ride home, we wanted to get back at a reasonable hour - we still managed to do the most important thing.
Eat excellent Vietnamese food!
We managed to find a table amongst all the noise near a temporary food stand. Nearby, the vendors had set up a massive vat of stock. I'm not sure whether they managed to sell it all, but they seemed to be flat out trying.
The entire suburb seemed loud, noisy and grimy - and in that respect it's very representative of a lot of Asian cities. Except for the dodgem cars, fairy floss and hot chips being sold near the station, it was almost like we weren't even in Australia.
And it wouldn't be the Moon Festival without the moon cakes.
Sat, 10 Sep 2005
You know it's almost officially summer when you hear the first lawnmower start up.
27C today. I'm walking around in t-shirt and shorts. I hate the heat, but the first few warm days in spring are welcome after winter.
Last week's Sydney-West Coast match was one of the best finals matches I've seen. Last night's Sydney-Geelong clash was simply unbelievable. The last five minutes unbearable. How can anything top these last two weeks?
I didn't go, and now I'm kicking myself! The only consolation is knowing how painful Ivan's hangover probably is.
Fri, 09 Sep 2005
The amazing thing about higher petrol prices is that motorists seem to think that petrol should never be more than $1.20. How else do you explain the cries for 'relief', for the government to stop taxing it, for the 'average mum and dad' to be able to commute 100km a day with no regard for the sustainability of the environment.
If petrol is getting really, really expensive, and showing no real signs of getting cheaper then maybe, just maybe, it might be an idea to reconsider how much you use.
Earlier this week, Today Tonight had one of their usual beat-ups, trying to compare cost of living between Brisbane, Melbourne and Sydney. The biggest assumption was that a weekly petrol bill of $200 (for both parents commuting to work from 40-50km out of the city) was a given.
That's just stupid.
There is no doubt that petrol is now pretty expensive. It's unlikely to go down again anytime soon. We actually still have one of the cheapest petrol prices in the world.
And if people are that mad at the oil companies, they should feel free to try and reduce their reliance on cheap petrol.
The most annoying thing is the call for relief from politicians trying to appear to be seen as representing the 'battlers'. Guess what? Every cent that the government reduces it's tax on petrol costs $380m. It's unlikely that the usual suspect lobby groups like the NRMA would be happy with anything short of a 10 cent drop in the price. So straight away, the government has to pick up $3.8b from somewhere else. And when the price rises another 10 cents, they'll be asked again to reduce petrol tax. How about we don't subsidise the unsustainable practice of driving everywhere? Other countries seem to have adapted without a problem. And if more people got out of their car and walked or got on their bike maybe we wouldn't be the third fattest country in the world.
Perhaps the funniest quote was from John Howard:
Mr Howard, who is driven in an official government car, today defended himself against suggestions he was unaware of how ordinary Australians were dealing with petrol prices now around the $1.40 a litre mark.
"I have children who buy petrol. I have friends who buy petrol. I can assure you everybody is talking to me about the price of petrol," he told ABC radio.
In this instance, he's right, and shouldn't back down:
World oil prices are not something the Australian Government, or any government, can influence. They are out of our control. They are also out of the control of the governments of the world's most powerful countries such as the US and Japan.
Despite rising world oil prices, Australia still has the fourth lowest petrol prices among industrialised countries, due mainly to our low petrol taxes.
...
Calls for further cuts in the excise are understandable. However it would cost taxpayers about $380 million a year for the Government to reduce the bowser price by 1c a litre.
A price cap is unworkable. During the Gulf crisis in August 1990, petrol prices were capped for 21 days. The price freeze proved counter-productive, as soon as it was over, petrol prices jumped immediately as oil companies moved to recoup losses.
Mon, 05 Sep 2005
Kathleen's sitting on the couch, watching TV, and eating all the little fruity bits out of the muesli. Grrr! I hate it when all that's left for me is the bran!
Sun, 04 Sep 2005
Steph and Eva had us over last night for steam boat! A feast worth a trek over the bridge for!
Yesterday, I travelled all the way to East Hills for the Sydney AFL First Division grand final. Last year, I was umpiring this level, and I actually preferred it to the Premier Division. The players are (mostly) in it for fun, and as a result don't seem to feel the need to whinge and moan about every adverse decision.
Sydney Uni and UTS were the stand-out teams this year, and Sydney Uni lost the grand final last year after dominating the competition all year, so there were keen to make amends.
Unfortunately for them, UTS came out of the blocks with a 5 goal to 1 first quarter.
For the rest of the day, Sydney Uni pegged them back, goal by goal, and the final quarter was one of the best I've seen. UTS tired late in the day, and surrendered the lead for the first time about halfway through the last quarter.
Watching such a good final game means I'll be even keener for next season to start!
One of the differences between me and some of the younger people at work is that I know when enough's enough.
And so it was, after our work's annual dinner, that we found ourselves at the 3 Wise Monkeys pub in George St last Thursday night.
They are now smoke-free in the street-level bar, which is another reason to go there.
When the first round of shots came out, at around about 11pm, I decided then and there that it was time to up stumps and go home. Being a school night, I didn't want to have to wake up at 7am and have to go to work with a headache.
Unfortunately, younger heads decided - foolishly - to stick around.
Cut to the next day, and two of these young fellas who decided to kick on are noticeably worse for wear. They eventually left the bar at 1.30am, after a drinking contest.
Crazy kids.
I may be old, but I do know when enough's enough!
