Stuff I see, which you might not.

Fair Juliet

Hardcore. 8 year old Juliet – an Australian treasure, from the trampoline moshpit to you…


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Spam I Am

You actually make it seem so easy along with your presentation but I to find this matter to be actually something which I feel I would never understand. It sort of feels too complex and very huge for me. I’m taking a look ahead on your subsequent post, I’ll attempt to get the cling of it!

I know it’s spam, but I sort of feel for the writer.  Well, the writer-like machine that crafted the message.  Like a pathetic Biggest Loser contestant needing a pat on the head and a big bowl of pasta, this spammer cries out for recognition and encouragement. Of course, I’m also reading between the lines and taking it as a compliment on my fabulous new blog. So thank you, Spamman or Spamgirl, I appreciate your thoughtful feedback. And if you make sure to check back every day and tell everyone you know about my blog (well, not your spammy friends, but any actual humans that you know), I am sure you will get the cling of it.  

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What’s in a name?

I am doing some recruitment in my new job, which I’m enjoying because I haven’t hired people in a long time.  It’s always an interesting process – especially when you put the ad on an online job board yourself, rather than using a recruiter.  You craft the ad, then with all the hope of a lovestruck teen you click on ‘publish’ and 30 minutes later, your new job is up in lights, being looked over by prospective suitors.  And within about 1.25 minutes, the applications start arriving – especially if the job is in IT or administration.  The quality of those applications and general tips for candidates is another rant altogether.  (In which I would suggest little things, like: get the job title right, get the company name right, get your own name right.  Stuff like that.)

Anyways, this recent batch of recruitment has got me thinking about names and what is in them.  I have decided that the answer is: a lot.  Although I do accept that I’m a bit odd in this regard.  When I hear the name (or prospective name) of a new baby, I always run three very quick scenarios – not to cover the whole spectrum of options, you understand, but to get an idea of how the name fits.  So, if you tell me that your baby’s name is Pixie McGee, I will automatically do this (usually in my head, sometimes out loud): “Good morning, Pixie McGee’s office”; “Pixie McGee reporting for National Nine News”; and “Hello, I’m your doctor, Pixie McGee”.  I don’t judge (out loud), I don’t try to persuade a name change, I just play it back to see how it sounds in a few different scenarios.  Although if you tell me that you’ve chosen a name that spells something backwards (as Nevaeh), then I may say that is a little bit yzarc.

But back to recruitment.  I am not sure who the prankster is that suggests names for incoming students or employees to adopt so they can ‘fit in’ when they arrive.  When I was younger, there were a lot of old-school English type names chosen: Daisy, Eugene, Harold, Violet.  Now, it seems as though anything goes – I have recently come across real-life students named: Magic, Sexy, Chicken, Thunder, George Washington and Tennis.  Now, I don’t mean to be superficial, but I don’t think those names are going to help you blend in to your new community.  Sure, you’re out of the primary school days of sticks & stones breaking your bones…but really?  I don’t know that we’ll see Sexy as a company CEO.  Or Chicken as a leading investment banker.  Or Magic, the school principal.  Sure, Thunder and Tennis might have more obvious career paths mapped out for them in fields relevant to their names, but if they wanted to become, say, barristers or office managers, I’m not sure how that would pan out.

Then I think, maybe it doesn’t matter to most people – a rose by any other name and all that.  And maybe we should have more names that are fun and bring a smile to people’s faces.

So I’m going to sign off all my recruitment correspondence as Mermaid O’Krypton.  Just because I can.


Something fishy

For too long, most of us have been stuck with goldfish – or perhaps the slightly more upmarket Siamese fighting fish – as friends.  Sure, they’re pretty and they swim around, probably wondering why on earth there is a strange castle or cactus or volcano in their tank.  And in fairness, Siamese fighting fish are pretty bad ass, almost certain to kill their fishy neighbours if you don’t keep a wall between them.  But now I’ve seen this amazing Desktop Jellyfish Tank, by Jellyfish Art (thanks Fab.com) and there is no going back to goldfish.  You get 3 ‘Moon Jellyfish’, six months of food, an LED tank light that changes colour (giving the tank a disco vibe) and a heap of other complicated sounding stuff.  They note that Moon Jellyfish don’t sting, although I’m not sure that you should be getting them out to play very often.  The downside – I don’t know how long they live, you probably can’t pick a favourite as they all look the same and you can’t make eye contact with them.  But they are very cool – like little ghosts of the sea, trick or treating around the tank.

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Uh huh


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Here’s looking at you, Syd

Today is just one of those amazing days when you look around the harbour city and think, where else would you want to be?  After weeks – months – of unseasonal weather (cooler, wetter and much sadder than summer should be), today is just perfect.  Strong blue skies (not that wishy washy blue of nanna’s cardi, but the deep blue of – say – Jake Gyllenhall’s dreamy peepers) and warm sunshine, like Mother Nature is saying TGIF.  Weather like this makes everyone happier – as I waited for a mid-afternoon ferry, a group of Korean women in their 70s started line dancing at the wharf, sort of like a bizarro elderly Asian Billy Ray Cyrus flash mob.  Unfortunately, I was in shock at this unexpected sight and wasn’t quick enough to catch them with my camera (or my stick).    Crazy politicians, public transport iss-ews and world beating housing costs aside, so lucky to live in such a beautiful town.  Especially on a $10 postcard-pic day like today.

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Barking mad

It’s probably a bit of a worry that this obscure video popped into my head today, over one year after the story first appeared on tv.  Maybe it was because I had to sit through a meeting with an idiot for more than an hour this afternoon and I only wish I could have interrupted his ramblings with something like this.  Sure, not entirely professional – but it’d be memorable and would definitely have stopped him talking.  Inspiring stuff – there should be more of it, I say!

Check out Dog Man


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Life-changing necklaces

So we all heard about how Angelina used to wear that vial of Billy Bob’s blood around her neck – soooo romantic.  But if you don’t have a significant other / blood donor, what can you wear instead of silver or gold to make yourself stand out from the crowd?  Sure, some hep cats try leather or studded dog collars or even new-age fooey crystals.  But today I’ve found something even better – plants.  Yep, you can turn your neck into a little nursery with these amazing ‘wearable planters’ by Colleen Jordan (thanks Fab.com).  Presumably, it’ll help if you’re a sad sort of person, prone to outbursts of tears to keep your little plant watered.  I’m easily inspired, so the HBS (hair brained scheme) that I draw from this is the limitless potential for funk-tional neckwear… If I could work out a way to make a small oven that looks fashionable and warms, rather than burns, the wearer – hello, on-the-go baking of teeny tiny cookies!  Or a small freezer that doesn’t turn the wearer into an eskimo (sorry, I think there’s a new politically correct term for the people we knew as eskimoes, but I don’t recall what it is) – hello, portable teeny tiny ice blocks for summertime fun!  Or, pending RSPCA approval, what about a portable kennel for your teeny tiny designer colloodle or labhuahua – hello, overpriced & peculiar looking precious pet on the move!  That’s it, I’m heading for my craft box – this idea is a good ‘un…

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Mug shot

(Logo obscured to protect the victims)

When I first saw these mugs in the kitchen cupboard at my new workplace, I couldn’t quite believe it. Who knew that mugs with handles like that even existed? And why? For blinged-up rappers, maybe. Or high flying investment bankers. The part of my brain dedicated to hair brained schemes (HBS) started whizzing…Paint them gold, add some bedazzled jewels and there you have the perfect mug for any company CEO. Or Kardashian. Like, totally.

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