Don't Smile :D

I hate I.D photos.

I hate concession card photos. I hate licence photos. But most of all, I hate passport photos.

When I got my passport photo in Year Eight, I started counting down until 2008- when I would be able to renew the horrible photo (I looked stoned.) On my probationary drivers' licence, I look jaundiced.

I looked down at my new passport photo today after the Polaroid had dried and went "Crap."

The stout little woman at the Post Office who had taken my photo happened to be SHORT. Shorter than me. I personally believe that people that short should not be let anywhere near a quad lens Polaroid camera, because now I have four 35mm photos of me with a highly unflattering Avril Lavigne-esque angle. As in, nostril shots.

Because she was looking UP.

All I needed to do was get a tie, adopt a Canadian whine and break into the first chorus of Girlfriend.

Not happy, Jan. And because laughing or frowning is strictly prohibited in passport photos, I look like a grumpy Columbian drug dealer that's been dragged in for questioning. And I'm Asian- so that simile doesn't even work.

I also decided while I was out that I'd get a nice fruity air freshener for my little blue car- it was this bright orange, happy-looking tree. If you've never used an air freshener before (as I had not), you're meant to pull it one-seventh out of the bag, and tug it out an extra half centimetre each week to properly distribute the fragrance. (I'm not sure who thought this up, because it's a friggin' air freshener, it's not bloody rocket science.)

Unfortunately, in my zeal to open the air freshener I ripped the entire bag open.

Screw it, I thought, and I just attached it to the little hook above the back seat door.

Five minutes later, I thought I was going to choke and die on Sunny Citrus fumes. It was so damn strong I had to take it out of the car and dump it on the shoe cabinet near the door (so now our entire front room also smells strongly of orange).

I have unleashed an olfactory MONSTER.

Amazing Celebrity Lookalikes #1

I went to the Royal Melbourne Show...

...and I saw a dog that looked like Jennifer Aniston.

Exhibit A:











Exhibit B:



Tee hee hee.

Transformers!

"I've seen this movie, the black dude dies first." (Harry Block, "Evolution")

I saw Transformers today.

And despite the fact that it was mostly two hours of giant robots stomping around smashing stuff in their attempts to maim each other, THE ROBOT-THAT-SOUNDED-LIKE-AN-AFRICAN-AMERICAN STILL GOT KILLED FIRST.

That's right- the smooth-talking Autobot who got a grand total of two lines in the film ended up snuffing it first in the final battle.

Because he was BLACK. Or at least, he sounded black.

In the traditional of all big blockbusters, the black guy in the ensemble cast always gets killed off first. Sort of the sacrifice that gets the ball rolling. And Jazz was the uber-cool homey-ass Autobot with a ghetto accent.

Suffice to say, I was extremely upset when Megatron snapped Jazz in half like a toothpick. They said it was because Jazz was much smaller (but so much blacker and thus cooler) than the other robots, so Megatron bisecting him was more plausible, but they could have whacked off Ratchet and I wouldn't have felt so upset.

(Sniff).

We saw Transformers at Imax, and on the huge screen, it was spectacular. It was a Michael Bay film (think Pearl Harbor)- and like Roland Emmerich (Independence Day, Day After Tomorrow) Bay likes explosions. Big explosions. And lots of scenes showing the big bad Americans leaping into their F22s to defend the homeland. The special effects were absolutely stunning, especially when they started transforming- I got a special thrill from seeing an Xbox 360 sprout legs and burst out of the box on a murderous spree.

As for plot, there was none. There seriously was no plot. At all.

There was some vague backstory about a Cube and all, except we sneaked in ten minutes late and so thus missed a bit of that- and the rest of the film was total, glorious, destructive mayhem.

And you know what? The main female lead survived a giant explosion and a huge battle on the streets between two groups of warring robots- she was covered in dirt and grime, yet her lipstick was still absolutely perfect. Coral pink with not even a hint of a smudge.

And what kind of hacker wears that kind of shimmery lip-gloss for a job that involves sitting in front of a data screen all day? (I suppose the answer is the 'blonde, leggy and gorgeous' type of hacker).

Anyhow, it was a great film to kick off the mid-term break- no thinking required. Just sit back, and watch the Decepticons and Autobots smash it out for the future of the planet.

The Face of Boe?

Captain Jack cannot be the Face of Boe.

I refuse to believe it.

I don't care that it fits perfectly into the timeline. I don't care about how it makes sense. You cannot turn my handsome boy from this...












...into this:










I don't care about five billion friggin' years of evolution, this is JACK HARKNESS.

AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!

(In case you couldn't tell, I was slightly upset by the end of this year's season finale.)

The Sweetness of Truancy

Thank the Force that blogging , unlike podcasting, doesn't require me to use my voice.

Currently, my voice sounds like an oboe- weird, reedy and reminiscent of a duck honking.

All I did yesterday was schnuffle into a box of tissues, trying to keep it quiet so I wouldn't interrupt the guest lecturer with a nasal symphony during her hour-long presentation on grammar and syntax. I had uni from 9 to 5 (technically) but after I finished my class at 2 p.m, I was faced with the horrifiying prospect of three hours of Contract Law. Three SNIFFLY hours of Contract Law.

Let me set the scene here: every Tuesday, I have three hours of Contract Law in the most dingy lecture theatre in the whole campus. The theatre is as dark as a prison cell and just as inviting, and every square inch of the desks are covered in graffiti proudly proclaming "Land Rights For Gay Whales".

(Before you ask, I have no idea either.)

Yesterday was sunny. Gloriously so. It was so warm and lovely and the birds were singing and gates were open and the hills were beckoning, and oh, Reverend Mother, I just couldn't help myself...

...I didn't leap onto the Science Lawns and swing my arms around in wide circles singing about how the hills were alive, but the temptation was certainly there.

But like Maria, I ran. I did run through that gate, away from the musty confines of the science theatres and the mysteries of contract law...

...and I spent my afternoon playing soccer in the park with Kris and Chrissy. Chrissy tried to give me a few pointers on how to not-look-like-a-total-idiot when kicking the ball, but it didn't quite work- she's a brilliant goalkeep and an even more deadly striker...whilst most of my time on court involves me flinging up my arms in terror to avoid being hit. I think her most important piece of advice from the session was this:

"Daph...when the ball comes towards you, don't scream."

Duly noted :D

We capped off the afternoon by spending an hour running about on the playground- trying to run up the slides, going on the swings, discovering that the little horsey see-saws aren't really meant for people over the age of seven...it was awfully refreshing knowing that even though we were oh-so-sensible, mature young women going on 20, we still had a combined mental age of about three.

It sure beat fallling asleep in a lecture theatre listening to three hours of talk about misleading and deceptive conduct.

However, I heard the ultimate truancy excuse today, when I was talking to a friend who hadn't shown up to class in more than a week. His reason?

He'd fallen in love.

If that ain't a reason to skip class, I don't know what is.

Cleanliness Is Next To Podliness

"i-pod, therefore i-am."

This is engraved onto the back of the silver iPod which my sisters presented to me last Christmas. Having suffered through 3+ hours of daily commuting on public (and stinky) transport last year, with only an unreliable Nokia pop-port FM headset for company, it was like some kind of Podly gift from heaven.

I hadn't really planned on getting an iPod in particular- I was going through one of those 'everyone-has-one-so-I-want-to-be-different' stages, but when I held that slim, silver little iPod in my hands and flicked on that bright little coloured screen...

...well, you probably think it's weird for maternal instincts to arise over a piece of technology.

In which case, I probably shouldn't mention the fact that I sometimes call my little 2GB bundle of joy "Señor i-Poddy Poddy".

*awkward silence*

Not to get all defensive or anything, but surely that's a better name than say...Tiger Lily or Peaches or Apple or young Shiloh Pitt? (Or as I like think of it- Piloh Shitt. Tee hee.)

i-pod, therefore i-am.

It's true- the iPod has no longer become the status symbol of the schoolyard. It's progressed to become an almost natural accessory, something that everyone is simply expected to carry. The worldwide retail price is so stable that it's replaced the Big Mac index. It's almost frightening to look around on the bus to see 99% of passenger with those telling white earbuds jammed in to their ears.

It's even more frightening to realise that I am also one of these anti-social iPodding people, standing alone in my own little world listening to the Overture of Jesus Christ Superstar.

Take a look here and here.

Yes folks, that's the new iPod Touch and the new generation of Nano. The iPod videos have been renamed the iPod Classic, and have shot up to 160GB for the same price as the 80GB. The Nanos have a bigger screen, seem to resemble a Creative Zen V Plus, and can now play video. I get the feeling that I will soon be repeating this mantra to every second customer who walks into the store.

I don't like the new colours though- I have a little vendetta against pastel shades.

I think the main reason why this iPod phenomenon unsettles me is because they're so common....because they have now become the ultimate symbol of the middle-class. Maybe it's partly because of my line of work, and the fact that the aforementioned middle-class come in droves to seek them out, and I get to repeat the same old thing over and over.

I can thus understand why some people are so anti-iPod. It's not just because some iPods have a strange habit of suddenly packing up for no apparent reason after the one-year warranty, and it's not just because some people have an ingrained anti-Mac streak which makes them rabid...maybe it's just because they want to ignore the status quo.

This is the Pro/Con list I generally go through with each customer who wants to buy an MP3 player and always asks the age-old question: "So what's the difference between the iPods and everything else?"

Pros of Poddy-ness

- colour screen
- slim design, battery life of up to sixteen hours
- scroll/click wheel
- easy access to playlists and genres
- iTunes store
- almost everything is now iPod-tailored (e.g speaker docks, skins)
- games
- relatively cheap for a video player
- Shuffle and 4GB come in such pretty colours

Cons of Poddy-ness

- unlike virtually every other MP3 on the market, it lacks an FM tuner and a voice recorder. Both accessories can be purchased for $79 and $99 respectively, but ain't that a bit annoying?
- songs must be converted into AAC format, which is often not compatible with non-Apple devices (some phones play AAC but you can't play copy-protected AAC on an XBox 360)
- can't 'drag and drop' or use as a backup flash drive
- can't play copy-protected WMAs (unless you burn to disc and transfer them back)
- I personally believe that AAC has an inferior sound quality

But I love Señor i-Poddy Poddy. When he's not safely sheathed in his X-Treme Mac Neoprene case, he's one damn sexy piece of technology.

Adobe is a Girl's Best Friend

Screw diamonds.

I've found a new and better friend-

- the humble PDF file.

I love PDFs. I love all form of digitised academia. I love Adobe Acrobat Reader, and the sexy way it flows off the tongue. I love the sensual scrolling motion as I roll the mouse button down to find the information that will save my skin.

In short, I love the fact that it has just made up for all my research shortfalls.

You see, I am the bastard child of two faculties. I'm half Law, half Arts, and unfortunately, I seem to have taken on the Arts mentality of "Essay? What essay?"

(If I had taken of the characteristics of my other parent faculty, I would probably be hunched up in the law library with a stack of secondary references cradled protectively under one arm, hissing competitively at any other law students that would dare to come within snatching range of my precious precious 3-hour-reserve texts on Critical Legal Theory.)

However, I am an Arts student. And we don't...actually...do anything.

Oh, we sit and we debate, and we drink coffee at Wholefoods and occasionally wake up before 11 a.m to sneak into a lecture, but we don't really do much else. Besides sleep. And whine about the 'workload' which consists of two contact hours a week per subject.

Anyhow, I really should have considered the logistics of starting this 2500 word essay (worth 50% of the total mark). In constrasting the dichotomy of suburbia and the inner city in Australian fiction, I should really have considered the fact that I might need secondary references. You know, for that funny thing at the end of the essay called a Bibliography.

I probably shouldn't have left it until tonight, too.

Tomorrow, the library is open at 2:00-5:00 p.m. Instead of frantically chasing down references, I am going to be stuck at work from 10 a.m- 5:00 p.m, listening to another customer complain about how I should be taking responsibility for their own stupidity (I have a suggestion to the stupid moron who flung abuse at me the other day- if you LOSE your specialised charger for your Navman handheld, there is no point throwing a tantrum about it and being generally insulting because we don't stock the manufacturer-order-only-item on our shelves. If you dare come back in and shout about 'shocking customer service' I shall knock you out with a 24V cordless drill, truss you up in the back room and make you watch "Rick Stein's French Odyssey" for ten hours on our crappy 34cm television.)

Ahem...back to the essay....

...so I was having a panicky fit, looking at this list of recommended reading that I had largely ignored up to Week Eight, going "AAAAAAAARGGGGGGGHHHHHH", as is my wont (I'm often wondered what it must be like sharing a house with me.)

...and then I searched the university catalogue. And found that half of these blessed texts have been converted into PDF form as an ONLINE RESOURCE.

Huzzah!

I could kiss the person who developed PDFs. I could also kiss the person who kindly uploaded all of those texts to the library catalogue. In fact, I think the whole world needs a hug right now.

Essay is due Monday. I still have one more night (una noche, according to 98 Degrees) and so it shall be a sleepless essay extravaganza in which the words "dichotomy", "suburbia" and "stagnant" shall be overused to the nth degree.

It's gonna be a long night, Bubbles.

Character Deaths

I was sitting up at 3:15 a.m last night, reading Legacy of the Force: Sacrifice.

Crying.

They killed off my favourite character.

It was like losing a friend. Someone I had grown to love through years of reading. I first picked up a Star Wars novel in Year Nine, and I have spent seven years with this character, watching her grow from an Imperial assassin to a Jedi Master.

Thus, I have compiled a list of Most HeartBreaking Character Deaths (not in any particular order).

1. Mara Jade Skywalker (Legacy of the Force- Sacrifice)

From the moment they showed her on the cover I knew that there was a fair chance she wouldn't make it out of the book alive.

The image of a fourteen year-old Ben Skywalker finding his mother's body and watching guard over her, all alone...I kept flipping back the pages and sniffling all over again. Also, she was killed by her own nephew, the eldest son of Han Solo and Princess Leia. Jacen Solo (whoops, now he's now known as Darth Caedus) must DIE.

2. Tonks and Lupin (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)

When I first read the much anticipated final Potter book (for which I queued up for an hour on the launch morning to get my free plush owl) I didn't really give a toss that Colin Creevey had kicked the proverbial magical bucket, or even that Fred Weasley had died...my heart broke when Harry caught sight of the bodies of Tonks and Lupin lying still in the Great Hall.

I was in mourning for days.

They were, without a doubt, my favourite couple from the Harry Potter series. And they both died when their son was only a few weeks old.

*Wails in anguish*

Hadn't the werewolf SUFFERED ENOUGH?!

3. Beth March (Good Wives)

So you thought that Little Women ended happily ever, did you?

WRONG.

If you've seen the movie, then you probably already know that Beth dies. If you've read the book, then you know that Beth dies quietly in the most heartbreaking way possible- in her mother's arms. *Sniffles*

4. Judy (Seven Little Australian)

Judy's death in Seven Little Australians was the most heart-wrenching, soul crushing death I've ever read. That is the only book in which I can remember being in a paroxysm of literary grief, almost howling over the book with a box of trusty Kleenex under the bedcovers. (For those who haven't read it, Judy is crushed by a gum tree when she leaps out to protect her little brother. Interestingly enough, if you would like to read the entire text after I have just spoiled the entire book for you, it is available free at http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/4731

This is the excerpt of Judy's death:

"If it's all gold and diamonds, I don't want to go!" The child was crying now. "Oh, Meg, I want to be alive! How'd you like to die, Meg, when you're only thirteen? Think how lonely I'll be without you all. Oh, Meg! Oh, Pip, Pip! Oh, Baby! Nell!"

...

"Oh! and Judy, dear, we are forgetting; there's Mother, Judy, dear--you won't be lonely! Can't you remember Mother's eyes, little Judy?" Judy grew quiet, and still more quiet. She shut her eyes so she could not see the gathering shadows. Meg's arms were round her, Meg's cheek was on her brow, Nell was holding her hands, Baby her feet, Bunty's lips were on her hair. Like that they went with her right to the Great Valley, where there are no lights even for stumbling, childish feet.
The shadows were cold, and smote upon their hearts; they could feel the wind from the strange waters on their brows; but only she who was about to cross heard the low lapping of the waves. Just as her feet touched the water there was a figure in the doorway.

"Judy!" said a wild voice; and Pip brushed them aside and fell down beside her. "Judy, Judy, JUDY!"

The light flickered back in her eyes. She kissed him with pale lips once, twice; she gave him both her hands, and her last smile. Then the wind blew over them all, and, with a little shudder, she slipped away.

5. Mustafa (The Lion King)

Thank you, Disney, for mentally scarring my childhood.

I hope you know the emotional damage you did to this seven year-old child, watching Simba's father being trampled to death by a herd of animals at a Year One sleepover at school.

6. Padme Amidala (Revenge of the Sith)

I cried when I read Matthew Stover's incredible novelisation (this was not just any run-of-the-mill novelisation, this was absolutely brilliant. Seriously.) I liked the film too, but the book was really heartbreaking.

I know you're going, "Yeah, but of course you'd say that, you Star Wars freak..." but seriously, it was a good novel- whether you liked Star Wars, or just watched it to perve on Hayden Christensen.

7. Rachel (Animorphs #54)

I was obsessed with Animorphs as a kid. Absolutely obsessed. (My cousin Judith will attest to this.) It was my first soft introduction to science fiction. After about number #37, the series grew progressively worse until it finally finished at #54...and they killed off one of my favourite characters, Rachel.

After she demorphs (reverts back to human form), she is completely surrounded on an enemy ship. She tells Tobias, "I love you," over a viewscreen before the Yeerks kill her. And Tobias becomes a loner for the rest of his life, living alone as a red-tailed hawk.

I'm being serious here.

8. Rose (Doctor Who)

This wasn't actually a character death, but Rose describes it as such.

Trapped in a parallel universe away from the Doctor, he burns up a sun just to say goodbye. As she tells him, "I love you," the energy sustaining the link burns out, dissolving his image and leaving her alone, with the Doctor crying for her in the TARDIS.

I was heartbroken. I can't even watch the third series of Doctor Who with much enjoyment now.



As for the most AntiClimatic Character Death...

Romeo and Juliet.

This has to be the stupidest and most baffling sequence of events ever. Not to mention that both kids decided to top themselves within five minutes of each other (although granted, Juliet did check that Romeo was dead first). I tutored on this subject and all I could spit out was how stupid the two protagonists were and how equally stupid and irresponsible Friar Lawrence was and how this was a ridiculous play about the idiocies of teenage attraction.

Come to think of it, they never called me back for tuition. I wonder why.

Although you must think I'm a sentimental twit by now, I'm not. I challenge you to read these books in their entirety and not get all teary.

(Please also note that it is 12:39 a.m and I've been writing this for the past hour to distract myself from the very large English essay that is due on Monday.)

So what have been your most heartbreaking character deaths? Have you ever read something that just made you want to scream in frustration or have a hysterical fit? (There is a comments box below if you wish to contribute)