Monday, March 29, 2010
C is for Cat Stevens
B is for Barefoot Bowls
Friday, February 5, 2010
A is for Avatar
We're back.
EGG and I have really missed our Alphabet Weekends so we've decided to start all over again, but this time we're swapping the letters.
So EGG had A and although I am being a wee bit critical here, the best he could come up with was A is for Avatar. OK, we went Gold Class, but haven't we already done that (H is for Harry Potter) and it was 3D but we've done that too (U is for U2). So a big fat F for originality for EGG.
But Avatar it was, so off we went for three hours of excitement and adventure courtesy of the imagination of James Cameron. We got cool glasses again. The picture is EGG modelling them. After three hours they got a bit annoying though.
Now EGG loved Avatar. Me not so much. It went on and on. And it was such a pity to see that lovely Sam Worthington all stretched out and blue. He looks much nicer when he's human. I will admit to getting a little bored about half way, asking EGG "How much longer?". He just laughed at me. I passed a bit of time taking my glasses on and off to see if they made that much difference (they did).
I don't get this movie. Sure the special effects are great, but it was sort of predictable. I wonder if lovely Sam will turn to the good side (durr). I wonder if the evil marine will get his comeuppance (double durr). Will the boy get the girl (triple durr).
What I find most fascinating about this movie though are all the blogs and forums that have popped up around the place concerned that we here on Earth will never experience life on Pandora (the setting of Avatar).
Imagine it, all of these depressed whackos, I mean people, sitting in front of their computers typing things such as:
When I woke up this morning after watching Avatar for the first time yesterday, the world seemed ... gray. It was like my whole life, everything I've done and worked for, lost its meaningor
Ever since I went to see 'Avatar' I have been depressed. Watching the wonderful world of Pandora and all the Na'vi made me want to be one of them. I can't stop thinking about all the things that happened in the film and all of the tears and shivers I got from it."
I did not make any of the above quotes up. I cut and pasted them directly from the web. How scary is it that people can't differentiate between real life and a movie. And quite frankly I don't know why anyone would want to live on Pandora. Didn't do much for me with all that poisonous gas, but live and let live I suppose (although some of you Avatar bloggers really should consider therapy of some sort).
EGG was impressed by the 3D effects, they were OK, but the movie could have survived without it (oh that's right you could choose 3D or not 3D versions). There was a nice theme about colonisation that could have been a lesson for all of those European countries about 300 years ago. So don't let me put you off.
By the way if you're interested there is an Na'vi language that is set to replace Klingon as the language of choice of nerds. Guess what this means? “Kaltxì. Ngaru lu fpom srak?” No idea? It means "Hello, how are you going?" There's grammar and syntax and stuff like conjugated verbs in the Na'vi language. Someone's actually written a user's compendium. And I think I've got too much time on my hands.
A is for Avatar.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Z is for Zorbing
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Y is for Yatala Brewhouse
So it was with this in mind that I decided that my last Alphabet Weekend contribution would be all about EGG--and true blue Aussie male that he is--it had to be about beer.
Brisbane has a lot of things going for it--lovely weather, lots of interesting things to do (just look how many we've found in the course of our Alphabet Weekends), nice hotels and restaurants, but most importantly it has two breweries and conveniently one of them begins with Y.
So on the hottest day of the year, EGG and I set off for a tour of the Yatala Brewhouse. To be fair the tour of the brew house was pretty low on my list of things I Want To Do In My Lifetime, but the lure of drinks at the end was always going to be enough to keep me happy and EGG--well he was thrilled.
But back to the brewery tour--we got on one of those road train thingies, drove around the brewery (very clean and hygienic), looked at big vats and things and watched lots of little bottles go round on conveyor belts. We found out how to make low carb beer and how all the beer by-products are recycled. We found that beer tasters have the best jobs in the world (have you ever seen that job advertised?)
I guess it might have been interesting, but I couldn't hear half of the commentary because of the devil children who were also on the tour. Just EGG's and my luck--any earlier we might have joined the buck's party. But no. Instead we got four boys juiced up on red cordial.
To be fair, the tour was a bit boring, but who takes kids on a brewery tour? For the future I am going to remind myself that no matter what an irresponsible mother I have been in the raising of SSS I have never taken her on a brewery tour--and then readjust my halo.
So tour over we went back to the pub bit of the brewery and downed a few refreshing ales in the comfort of air conditioning. EGG got to pour his beer from the tap (all those years of watching bar staff really paid off).
EGG was so enthused by the whole idea that he wants to go on the Castlemaine Brewery Tour next. Good little Queenslander that he is, he much prefers the taste of XXXX.
Y is for Yatala Brewhouse--cheers!!!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
X is for Xtravagant
Sunday, August 3, 2008
W is for Wine on the Wharf
There were 450 wines on offer. EGG and I sampled 275 of them in 90 minutes.
Then we went home for a sleep. It was only midday.
W is for Wine on the Wharf--what a winner.
V is for (Shirley) Valentine
It was a true testimony to EGG's commitment to Alphabet Weekends that he did this for Shirley Valentine is the stage equivalent of a chick-flick and he was only one of a handful of men at the theatre. Actually the mere presence of EGG and I lowered the average age of the crowd by about 20 years.
However, Shirley Valentine was wonderful. I thoroughly enjoyed it once I got my head around the fact that she was vicariously talking to the audience via the wall. EGG missed all that though because he slept through the whole thing. He actually snored, but Shirley was in mid-rant so I think I was the only one who heard.
I got a bit excited at the end though when Shirley left her horrible husband for a new life in the Greek Islands. Sounds like a great plan to me only I want to take EGG with me.
I'm trying to convince EGG that we should throw our jobs in and do the same. We could do Alphabet Countries. Now there's a plan.
V is for (Shirley) Valentine.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
U is for U2 3D
We don't often go to concerts. It's not because we can't be bothered (though there is an element of that). No, it's because we usually never get around to booking until...oh, about two days before the concert, and then of course it's sold out and we get a bit stroppy.
I blame Harry Connick Jr for this of course. A few years ago when he came to the thriving metropolis of Brisbane, I decided, on the day of the concert, that I had a whim to see that fine young man. I rang up and low and behold they had some tickets, but they were in the press seats at the front and would that be ok? By golly gosh, was it ok!
EGG and I rocked up to the venue and walked all the way down the front (the last time we got to sit at the front of anything was when we sneaked down the the front of the theatre at intermission because our seats at the back were so crap we couldn't see anything).
So there we were, legitimately sitting right at the front, waiting for the lovely Harry to appear. And appear he did where he made special eye contact with me all night long. (I actually may have made that last bit up, but the rest is true).
So that whole episode sort of spoilt our future concert plans as we think that the same thing is going to happen again one day. We wait in hope.
Obviously we missed seeing U2 when they last came to town. I rang up two days before hand and enquired about the availability of seats, but the telephonist just laughed and hung up. Guess not!
But what we saw was nearly as good, in fact I'll say it was even better. It was just like being at a U2 concert, or what I imagine it would be like if I actually ever got to one.
And it was made even more spectacular because it was in 3D. Now the last time I went to a 3D movie we had to wear these dinky little glasses made of white cardboard with one green cellophane lens and one red one.
Well haven't these little numbers made some progress in the last 20 or so years. No more red and green cellophane--no now they are like Roy Orbison sun glasses. So much cooler than they used to be. I was so taken with mine that I carried them in my handbag for about a month showing them to everybody I met.
But back to the concert. There was heaps of great music, lots of crowd atmosphere (on the movie, the crowd in the theatre was a bit subdued). And aren't U2 such a considerate band to each other. No wonder they've stayed together so long--they are very good sharers. No one hogged the limelight (well Bono does a bit, but that really can't be helped) and they all take turns.
The 3D effects were spectacular. At one stage I was going to have a chat with the naughty children sitting in front of me who kept waving their hands in the air until I realised it was on the movie. Midway through the movie, Bono reached out to me (shades of Harry Connick Jr) and I was going to give him a high five until commonsense took over. How ridiculous would I have looked--high fiving the air, all the while wearing Roy Orbison sunglasses. Bad enough that I was waving my mobile about to fit in with the rest of the crowd.
EGG loved the movie and asked why we didn't go to more concerts when I reminded him about our sad ticket buying history.
"That was way better than going to the concerts," he said. "Why don't they all do that and save themselves the bother of touring?"
Hey concert promoters, he might just be on to something. But remember you read it here first.
U is for U2 3D.
Friday, April 11, 2008
T is for Toowong Cemetery Ghost Tour
By now you've probably gathered that I can be a wee bit judgmental, so quite frankly I was expecting to be part of a group of whackos. Who spends their Saturday nights traipsing around a cemetery? Well EGG and I, but at least we had an excuse--we were up to T and EGG got in big trouble off me for suggesting Ten Pin Bowling. As for the rest of the group--and I wasn't expecting too many--well, they had to be just plain weird. But they weren't weird, they were more like Bob an Cheryl from the corner shop, and there were about 24 Bob and Cheryls of varying ages. Who knew?
Now I happen to know a lot about cemeteries because I have spent hours of my time watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In fact I have often fancied myself as Buffy, but as you know I am useless at the physical stuff and the world would have been taken over by any number of demons and bad guys if I really were Buffy. But I do have an encylopaedic knowledge about repelling demons, ghosts and vampires in cemeteries (or anywhere else for that matter). Of course I didn't trot out with garlic or holy water--that would have been stupid. I even forgot my crucifix, but as I sat outside the cemetery gates waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, I did find a little stick which I sharpened to a point and surreptitiously planted in the back pocket of my jeans. Who's weird now, I hear you ask.
And, it's lucky I did, because Toowong Cemetery has a vampire. Now you may think that my little sharpened stick was not going to do much harm in a vampire-related incident, but you would be wrong. You would be wrong because the Toowong Cemetery vampire is called Lily. A vampire called Lily! It's like calling a rotweiller Mopsy. I reckoned that if Lily got cranky then I could fell her with one poke of my sharpened stick. She was obviously a wuzzy vampire.
As it turned out I didn't need my little stick because Lily didn't appear. Nor did any other ghosts, but then I don't think any one really expected them too. The tour guide tried hard to build up some atmosphere. He did have us all a bit worried at one stage when he had us all stand in a circle, holding hands while he chanted something about asking some ghost to appear. I think the ghost might have got a bit annoyed and decided not to show when someone deadpanned "Ohhh, I'm so scared." We stood there holding hands with each other for ages though because the guide told us that a lady who broke the circle had a car accident on the big roundabout outside the cemetery and that roundabout was the only way out of the cemetery and no one was going to risk it.
There was a bit of excitement when someone reckoned they saw something and it turned out they were right, but it was only a man walking his dog! In the middle of the night. In a cemetery. Now there's the whacko I was looking for.
That was the high spot for excitement on the night but we did learn a lot about Brisbane's very interesting history.
EGG and I went home and I found Buffy on Foxtel to show him what really happens in cemeteries.
I should have taken that stick out of my pocket before I sat down, though.
T is for Toowong Cemetery Ghost Tour.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
S is for Sexpo
And what an experience that turned out to be.
Sexpo conjures up darkened corners and silhouettes doing something your Auntie Nora would never dream of. Sexpo means an Amsterdam shop window right in the middle of Brisbane--or so you would think. Sorry to say but Sexpo was a bit desperate.
EGG thought he was in for a bumper day when he walked in a saw a topless woman, but let's just say that was as raunchy as it got. Me, I was going for the oh I'm so open-minded and there's nothing here that can shock me thing, and well, I didn't have to pretend because it was tame, tame, tame.
Sure there were little booths with lots of sex toys. There was a strip poker arena with fully clothed men looking desperately for someone to strip off other than the Freds sitting across the table from them. There was a big lineup for the Love Train, but as EGG and I make it a rule to never ever line up for anything, well that wasn't going to happen. There was also a lineup for meet the pornstar and even EGG scoffed at that. No one wants to talk to a porn star, they just want them to rip their gear off and get on what they're good at and that's sure not scintillating converstation.
There were lots of glass penises in display cases. Now this is where I am a bit confused. Are they for decoration? Do you polish them up with the Windex and leave them on display in the good china cabinet or do you actually use them because if you do you would need to be mighty careful. You could do yourself a lot of damage if you got carried away.
I was also amazed by the number of men with Sexpo showbags. Surely you are making yourself redundent boys if you trot home with that bag of goodies for the girls. (And ladies I would be very careful of that stuff, it's probably from China and you remember the lead paint scare.) Those boys who didn't have goodie bags had blow up doll girl friends with little puckered mouths (and probably puckered up other bits). Saddest show of the day however was the man wondering around with the inflatable pig. Now that's how to win on to the girl of your dreams, pull out your pig.
There was a fashion show however and lovely little items on display that came in sizes 8 to 24 (yes the Britney school girl outfit comes in size 24).
So we did the rounds of Sexpo twice thinking it would get better, but it didn't. The best bit of all was Pricasso who painted portraits (and they were very good) with his penis dipped into a palette. Oh the poor man must have some calluses--and the clean up. Did he have to use turps on it? Oh the pain of art.
I was sick of it all by then and redeemed the day by finding a nearby cocktail bar--a fitting way to end the day.
S is for Sexpo.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
R is for Rifle Shooting
Q is for Queensland Roar
Saturday, February 2, 2008
P is for Psychic
EGG's apology however, sprang from the fact that his original P selection was a no-goer. He'd really wanted to take me P for Pistol Shooting. Wow! How good would that have been? But those pesky little things called the Australian gun laws ensured that wasn't going to happen. Normally EGG and I are great supporters of the anti-gun lobby, but of late we are becoming a product of our environment.
It all began on Christmas Day when SSS presented EGG with the first season DVD of The Sopranos. EGG and I had missed the whole Sopranos shebang six years ago because it was on so late, and Channel 9 kept changing the times so we gave it a miss. Well didn't we lose out. So since Boxing Day EGG and I have watched the entire Sopranos series--all 86 episodes.
We watched so much of it that we were referring to the FBI as the bad guys. We watched so much of it that phrases like "stop breaking my balls" and "enough already" started creeping into our everyday speech. We watched so much of it that we were starting to understand why Tony Soprano had so many good looking goomahs (that's a mistress for all you non-fans--see we really have got the lingo). We watched so much of it that we started thinking Carmella had a sense of fashion. We watched so much of it that when we greeted people we went in for the big double kiss-hug combination. We were so addicted that we stopped going out, other than to visit the video store to get our fix. So you can see how pistol shooting was a natural progression. We had been exposed to so much gratuitous violence that a gun in our hand was the next step. Thank you Australian gun laws for saving us from ourselves.
So we tore ourselves away from the DVD player and a-psychic hunting we went. And where is the mecca for psychics in Brisbane? Why South Bank Markets of course. So $90 poorer we found out that EGG and I have the world's most wonderful relationship which means that we'll stay together long enough to at least work our way through the rest of the letters of our Alphabet Weekends. We found out that we're going to travel, have interesting careers and that SSS will be a constant joy to us both. Sound just like a Disney film, doesn't it?
That's all I can remember because even though she was talking about one of my favourite subjects--me--I sort of tuned out and nodded sagely at appropriate times. She did however point out that I was a drama queen. Moi--I was shocked. EGG fell around the place laughing until I told him to "stop breaking my balls". You see how bad the whole Sopranos thing had got.
So EGG and I now have a big Sopranoless void in our predicted happy lives. We're not sure how life will be without Tony, Patsy, Syl, Christopher and the gang. OK, we know they're psychopathic killers and that it's only a TV show but.... Anyway there's another series called Deadwood that might be right up our alley--lots of violence, cursing and killing. SSS suggests we watch Bambi instead.
I'm off to the video shop--well the pyschic said that I would make a journey.
P is for psychic.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
O is for Outdoor Cinema
The evening didn't start well. We traipsed from our far and distant carpark to the venue only to find we'd left our money behind. Well EGG left the money behind, but I said not a thing (my happy face glued in place), even when he came back much later and the movie had already begun.
The venue for this outdoor cinema was New Farm Park, a really lovely setting by the river in the middle of Brisbane. Despite the drought there are beautiful trees and vast lawns. Except for bit where the outdoor cinema is located. They must have called in thirty rugby teams to play on that patch of grass because it was the roughest, most decrepit bit of lawn in Brisbane. The "grass" expanse was surrounded by high wire fencing so the setting was actually more prison exercise yard than romantic movie venue. The only thing missing was the razor wire.
My Jennifer/Matthew moment was but a memory by now as we tried to get comfortable on the grass. Quite possibly the only thing that might have saved the evening was a decent slug of wine, but no that wasn't going to happen either because they closed the bar when the movie started--and we were late.
I was a bit devastated because I had the good/bad conscience wrestle about whether or not I should sneak some wine in and unfortunately good (and consequently sober) won. It's such a shame because a friend of mine had given me the best strategy. She told me that she smuggles her sauv blanc in via her children's waterbottles. She has even trained them to slug a mouthful back without flinching should an overzealous security guard try to examine the contents. I love this woman because she always gets her wine, but mostly because she is a very, very bad mother which makes me look like a very, very good one.
The movie, No Reservations, was really, really bad. Do not under any circumstances see this movie, don't even rent it on dvd. I have a gauge for assessing the shockingness of movies and that is the pillow fight scene. Any movie that has a pillow fight scene is automatically a dud. Don't know why, but they all are. Scriptwriters out there take note of my advice--if you want your movie to sink faster than the Titanic, then include a pillow fight. Don't say you haven't been warned.
EGG actually groaned when at the pillow fight scene. He'd had enough by this time and whined about how much longer we had to stay there. They haven't broken up yet, I whispered to him. Oh yeah, and the kid's got to run away, he replied. Keep in mind that neither of us had seen this load of rubbish before, it was just such a predictable movie. So within about half an hour they split up and the kid ran away. Surprise, surprise they got back together and (this is the bit you probably didn't see coming) they lived happily ever after.
We started packing up before the last big pash filled the screen.
I hope they use some of that $14 entry fee to buy some fertiliser for the grass.
O is for Outdoor Cinema.