I'm the one on the left.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Meanwhile, back at the...ranch?
1) It has been pointed out by members of the peanut gallery (ie The Father), that melkkos is spelt with two k's. Sorry.
2) The link to The Grub Report has.been.fixed. Thanks Kris!
3) Runners are mad people with a deepseated fetish for sadomasochism. It's the only explanation for why anyone would voluntarily slog up Hout Bay main rd, after slogging up Chapman's Peak, cramping so badly that they can barely stand.
4) Being cheerful is hard work. And blowing a whistle for seven hours is exhausting and tough on the ears and the teeth. However, cheering generally is pretty fun.
5) Prison Break, Veronica Mars and Lost are the coolest shows ever.
6) Lee and Rajesh are so getting back together, if Lee would stop being an idiot and give Rajesh a chance. Poor Rajesh.
7) Marmalade and toast are a gift from heaven to make our lowly existences prettier.
8) One week to go. Rob leaves today (lucky bugger) and I'm meeting him in London to go to Paris for two days. So we'll be able to say "We'll always have Paris." Because lets face, we'll start arguing on the chunnel and by the time we get back...well...we'll always have Paris.
9) I was missing varsity a bit (in that autumn in Grahamstown nostalgic kind of way) until Leigh told me about the essays she's marking. That cured me pretty fast.
10) When giving hooves to little black labradors to eat, remove last little bit before she eats it (whole!) and proceeds to hork it up for the next two days.
11) Nanny McPhee is bloody funny. Colin Firth is, well, Colin Firth, and Emma Thompson is brilliant.
12) Six-year-olds are amusing even if they don't understand the rudiments of Monopoly and get upset when you won't let them buy some property you want so that you can crush their innocent spirits.
13) I have a week to go. I'm jumping out of my skin with excitement.
14) My boss made me a new ringtone; it's a verse from Harvey Danger's Flagpole Sitta, the part that goes "paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me"...heh.
15) Did I mention to anyone that I'm going on HOLIDAY. In a WEEK. To the UK. I'm not sure I can last that long.
PATTOTE - Better living through the minutia
2) The link to The Grub Report has.been.fixed. Thanks Kris!
3) Runners are mad people with a deepseated fetish for sadomasochism. It's the only explanation for why anyone would voluntarily slog up Hout Bay main rd, after slogging up Chapman's Peak, cramping so badly that they can barely stand.
4) Being cheerful is hard work. And blowing a whistle for seven hours is exhausting and tough on the ears and the teeth. However, cheering generally is pretty fun.
5) Prison Break, Veronica Mars and Lost are the coolest shows ever.
6) Lee and Rajesh are so getting back together, if Lee would stop being an idiot and give Rajesh a chance. Poor Rajesh.
7) Marmalade and toast are a gift from heaven to make our lowly existences prettier.
8) One week to go. Rob leaves today (lucky bugger) and I'm meeting him in London to go to Paris for two days. So we'll be able to say "We'll always have Paris." Because lets face, we'll start arguing on the chunnel and by the time we get back...well...we'll always have Paris.
9) I was missing varsity a bit (in that autumn in Grahamstown nostalgic kind of way) until Leigh told me about the essays she's marking. That cured me pretty fast.
10) When giving hooves to little black labradors to eat, remove last little bit before she eats it (whole!) and proceeds to hork it up for the next two days.
11) Nanny McPhee is bloody funny. Colin Firth is, well, Colin Firth, and Emma Thompson is brilliant.
12) Six-year-olds are amusing even if they don't understand the rudiments of Monopoly and get upset when you won't let them buy some property you want so that you can crush their innocent spirits.
13) I have a week to go. I'm jumping out of my skin with excitement.
14) My boss made me a new ringtone; it's a verse from Harvey Danger's Flagpole Sitta, the part that goes "paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me"...heh.
15) Did I mention to anyone that I'm going on HOLIDAY. In a WEEK. To the UK. I'm not sure I can last that long.
PATTOTE - Better living through the minutia
Thursday, April 13, 2006
These are the cool people
My obsession with Gilmore Girls opened a new world for me. It led me to Television Without Pity (don't fuck with Tubey), which in turn led me to a nexus of smart people with cool websites. As if I needed an excuse to waste more time on the internet, I was introduced to Tomato Nation, where Sars gives the smackdown to stoopid Americans, The Grub Report, where Keckler smacks down stoopid American eaters, and Chicklit.
I really dig these sites and the smart people who created them. What do you need to succeed in this life? Rapier wit and html.
All the sites can be accessed through this nifty hub. My new favourite is Go Fug Yourself, which pretty much eviscerates, well, everybody.
PATTOTE - Better living through not caring what the hell anybody else thinks, because really, your website your rules.
I really dig these sites and the smart people who created them. What do you need to succeed in this life? Rapier wit and html.
All the sites can be accessed through this nifty hub. My new favourite is Go Fug Yourself, which pretty much eviscerates, well, everybody.
PATTOTE - Better living through not caring what the hell anybody else thinks, because really, your website your rules.
A family treat
Tonight I'm going to have stovies for supper. Stovies are an Ellis family tradition, a dish invented by the gods and guarenteed to send the family into spasms of joy. Other dishes (egg and chips, melkos, mince and dough balls) could also bring joy to the table, but stovies...fwah.
It's simply mashed potatoes and pork sausages (chopped into pieces and mixed into the mash). You can add some onion to liven it up. I always like it with some chutney or hp sauce, or, when I still ate it, msg laden aromat.
Just smelling pork sausages can make me miss my family. What can I say, we're pigs.
It's simply mashed potatoes and pork sausages (chopped into pieces and mixed into the mash). You can add some onion to liven it up. I always like it with some chutney or hp sauce, or, when I still ate it, msg laden aromat.
Just smelling pork sausages can make me miss my family. What can I say, we're pigs.
Tea: a how-to guide
I drink a lot of tea and since my plan to train my dog to make the tea failed dramatically (Eau-de-singed-labrador, a new frangrance for winter) I have had plenty of practice at making the perfect cup.
Now, most tea drinkers would have you believe that all you need is a teabag and some hot water. But this is simply not the case. The perfect cup of tea requires time, a good cup, decent milk and dare I say, a little something extra.
1) Boil the water. And when I say boil I mean boil. Bubbles, shrieking kettle, piping hot water.
2) Get your favourite mug. Inspect for cracks and any flakes of whatever that might mar the tea experience. Be sure to purge mug of ALL dog hair. That shit sticks.
3) Get a teabag.
4) Place the teabag into the cup.
5) Now this is where the little something extra comes in - pour the required amount of milk over the teabag. You must put the milk in first. Don't believe me? Try putting the milk in afterwards and you will have disgusting overstrong manky tea. The milk is not a cooling down aid as some would have you believe. The milk is a requisite part of the tea flavour.
6) Pour boiling (BOILING) water over teabag and milk.
7) Stir with teaspoon, squeezing carefully. You want it strong but not disgusting.
8) Discard teabag
9) Drink the perfect cup of tea.
So remember: milk first, no sugar and purge of dog hair. Yum.
PATTOTE - Better living through the perfect cup.
Now, most tea drinkers would have you believe that all you need is a teabag and some hot water. But this is simply not the case. The perfect cup of tea requires time, a good cup, decent milk and dare I say, a little something extra.
1) Boil the water. And when I say boil I mean boil. Bubbles, shrieking kettle, piping hot water.
2) Get your favourite mug. Inspect for cracks and any flakes of whatever that might mar the tea experience. Be sure to purge mug of ALL dog hair. That shit sticks.
3) Get a teabag.
4) Place the teabag into the cup.
5) Now this is where the little something extra comes in - pour the required amount of milk over the teabag. You must put the milk in first. Don't believe me? Try putting the milk in afterwards and you will have disgusting overstrong manky tea. The milk is not a cooling down aid as some would have you believe. The milk is a requisite part of the tea flavour.
6) Pour boiling (BOILING) water over teabag and milk.
7) Stir with teaspoon, squeezing carefully. You want it strong but not disgusting.
8) Discard teabag
9) Drink the perfect cup of tea.
So remember: milk first, no sugar and purge of dog hair. Yum.
PATTOTE - Better living through the perfect cup.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I'm never eating again.
The hydrate electrolyte stuff the doctor gave me to drink just isn't cutting it either. What moron thought that a fake berry tasting drink would be good for people with no control over their upchuck reflex? In desperation (I'm at work with no access to anything else) I nabbed a small bowl of pronutro.
I think I may regret that decision for the rest of my life.
Dear universe, I don't think I'll ever recover if you make me throw up in the editorial office.
PATTOTE - Better living through ugh who'm I kidding. Let me die and get it over with.
I think I may regret that decision for the rest of my life.
Dear universe, I don't think I'll ever recover if you make me throw up in the editorial office.
PATTOTE - Better living through ugh who'm I kidding. Let me die and get it over with.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
I feel bleech, oh so bleech, oh so bleechy, and bleecchy and bleccch.
Future dictators are not supposed to get stomach viruses. Trying to throw up gracefully yet authoritively makes us less credible to the starving masses after all. If I believed in a decentralised system of governance, now would be the time to invest all my power in my dog.
PATTOTE - Better living through valoid, immodium, buscopan and anything else small and pill-like.
PATTOTE - Better living through valoid, immodium, buscopan and anything else small and pill-like.
Monday, April 10, 2006
You know what they say about an untidy desk...
To give you some insight into my untidy mind, here are the full and engrossing contents of my desk at work (my desk at home is a whole other story, involving several dog toys, five cent pieces and some pens that met with a tragic accident):
A computer. Apple Mac. Called The Light. A misnomer as it mostly drives me crazy by requiring frequent restarting, which takes on average 10 minutes. Also has a tendency to randomly shut down Quark, mostly right before we go to print. The resultant swearing is loud and creative.
A keyboard. Attached to Apple Mac. Is covered in tea stains and ooh, is that a crumb? Huh, when last did I have Fritos?
A scanner. You'd think a national newspaper would have moved beyond a 5-year-old flatbed scanner. You'd think wrong.
Two in trays. Top one contains new community photographs, thoughtfully sent in by Catholics around the country to torture me with their graininess and penchant for snapping black people, wearing white vestments, against a black background. Also blank cds for when I get round to backing up last year's issues. Like that's going to happen. Bottom tray contains a mass of application forms, pictures for the now defunct children's page, copies of threatening letters to writer of now defunct children's page, competition entries I forgot about (oops) and a board game I was supposed to review but hope the editor has forgotten about. Also an outdate postcode book which I misplaced and replace with the outdated postcode book from admin (I should give that back to them sometime). Scraps of interviews I did last year sometime. Cartoons for still active youth page. Deadline sheet for youth page that writer had better pay attention to. Pieace of paper on which I keep track of how often the journalist uses the words "pointed out" in a story. Scrap of paper with possible music compilation scribbled on it.
Filing cabinet filled with old issues, old community pictures and new community pictures. On top of filing cabinet - two whiteboard erasers, some whiteboard markers and a zip drive that hasn't been used since the month I started working here.
Box of blank scrap paper for making a bazillion notes I then lose. Also useful for cutting out snowflakes to the amusement of deskmate.
Ruler. Was 1m, now a little over 45cm.
Paste up sheets for this week's ads.
Copy of "leadership" magazine that editor leaves on my desk as a cruel joke.
Copy of Catholic Directory. Now out of date because the pope died and priests move around with no forwarding address.
Book containing list of tortuous community pictures. Several books with kids games that are now no longer necessary. Dictionary. Book with shortcuts and style guide.
Time magazine.
Box of extra strength disprin.
Pot of fig flavoured lip balm (it's sparkly)
Piece of paper reminding myself that the last time I backed up the newspaper was Feb 23, 2005.
Cellphone.
Filofax stuffed with little pieces of paper.
Small scrap paper holder.
Broken mug containing an assortment of pens, highlighters and several pencils, one of which reads Jesus Loves Me, a gift from a coworker (oy).
Community pics for this week.
An entire story thoughtfully written in longhand and faxed.
Half empty tube of nivea soft.
Wow, I need to throw stuff out. I would but the box under my desk is full.
PATTOTE - Better living through packratting
A computer. Apple Mac. Called The Light. A misnomer as it mostly drives me crazy by requiring frequent restarting, which takes on average 10 minutes. Also has a tendency to randomly shut down Quark, mostly right before we go to print. The resultant swearing is loud and creative.
A keyboard. Attached to Apple Mac. Is covered in tea stains and ooh, is that a crumb? Huh, when last did I have Fritos?
A scanner. You'd think a national newspaper would have moved beyond a 5-year-old flatbed scanner. You'd think wrong.
Two in trays. Top one contains new community photographs, thoughtfully sent in by Catholics around the country to torture me with their graininess and penchant for snapping black people, wearing white vestments, against a black background. Also blank cds for when I get round to backing up last year's issues. Like that's going to happen. Bottom tray contains a mass of application forms, pictures for the now defunct children's page, copies of threatening letters to writer of now defunct children's page, competition entries I forgot about (oops) and a board game I was supposed to review but hope the editor has forgotten about. Also an outdate postcode book which I misplaced and replace with the outdated postcode book from admin (I should give that back to them sometime). Scraps of interviews I did last year sometime. Cartoons for still active youth page. Deadline sheet for youth page that writer had better pay attention to. Pieace of paper on which I keep track of how often the journalist uses the words "pointed out" in a story. Scrap of paper with possible music compilation scribbled on it.
Filing cabinet filled with old issues, old community pictures and new community pictures. On top of filing cabinet - two whiteboard erasers, some whiteboard markers and a zip drive that hasn't been used since the month I started working here.
Box of blank scrap paper for making a bazillion notes I then lose. Also useful for cutting out snowflakes to the amusement of deskmate.
Ruler. Was 1m, now a little over 45cm.
Paste up sheets for this week's ads.
Copy of "leadership" magazine that editor leaves on my desk as a cruel joke.
Copy of Catholic Directory. Now out of date because the pope died and priests move around with no forwarding address.
Book containing list of tortuous community pictures. Several books with kids games that are now no longer necessary. Dictionary. Book with shortcuts and style guide.
Time magazine.
Box of extra strength disprin.
Pot of fig flavoured lip balm (it's sparkly)
Piece of paper reminding myself that the last time I backed up the newspaper was Feb 23, 2005.
Cellphone.
Filofax stuffed with little pieces of paper.
Small scrap paper holder.
Broken mug containing an assortment of pens, highlighters and several pencils, one of which reads Jesus Loves Me, a gift from a coworker (oy).
Community pics for this week.
An entire story thoughtfully written in longhand and faxed.
Half empty tube of nivea soft.
Wow, I need to throw stuff out. I would but the box under my desk is full.
PATTOTE - Better living through packratting
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Perhaps sedation is the answer?
I've always been quite the active sleeper. I talk a lot of nonsense, I kick and toss and I sleepwalk. I have done some research on somnambulism and apparently it mostly has to do with an overactive or disturbed mind. I'll leave you to make your own decision on that point.
Usually my sleep strolls take the form of waking up in the living room or wherever and just going back to bed. Once the mother woke me up in the bathroom where I was trying to put my school uniform on over my pyjamas.
Since I moved into my own place though I've started wandering around more often, almost all as a result of a conviction that I'm being broken into or attacked (see post below for paranoia inducing events). Once or twice I've found myself in the sitting room having ripped my bedside lamp out of the wall. Sometimes I just find myself on the other side of the room, ready to roll/duck/cover/escape. Last night I raced into the kitchen, put on the light and grabbed a long knife where I stood posed to, I don't know, puncture my imagination until I woke up completely. Maybe nytol is the way forward...
Usually my sleep strolls take the form of waking up in the living room or wherever and just going back to bed. Once the mother woke me up in the bathroom where I was trying to put my school uniform on over my pyjamas.
Since I moved into my own place though I've started wandering around more often, almost all as a result of a conviction that I'm being broken into or attacked (see post below for paranoia inducing events). Once or twice I've found myself in the sitting room having ripped my bedside lamp out of the wall. Sometimes I just find myself on the other side of the room, ready to roll/duck/cover/escape. Last night I raced into the kitchen, put on the light and grabbed a long knife where I stood posed to, I don't know, puncture my imagination until I woke up completely. Maybe nytol is the way forward...
Bitching is good for you
For those of you who don't know, I got broken into at the beginning of February. The burglar bastards were aided and abetted by the broken security gate to my building. They got away with tv, computer, etc and locked my poor Siska into a room before nabbing the cover to her doggy bed and taking that with them. I mean honestly. If they'd asked nicely she would have gladly pointed out the valuables, you know?
So anyway, two months later and the gate is still not fixed so I wrote a snappy letter to the management company, who called asking for another letter requesting a rent decrease. I duly sent this letter and haven't heard a word until today.
They're dropped my recently increased rent by R100.
Ok, so a hundred rand would buy me a decent plate of sushi but still...I feel triumphant!
From now on if my crisps aren't crispy, my sushi isn't sushi..ing or my soap powder isn't making my dander-infested whites whiter than white - I'm moaning.
Those companies actually do care about whether you're happy or not. Who knew?
So anyway, two months later and the gate is still not fixed so I wrote a snappy letter to the management company, who called asking for another letter requesting a rent decrease. I duly sent this letter and haven't heard a word until today.
They're dropped my recently increased rent by R100.
Ok, so a hundred rand would buy me a decent plate of sushi but still...I feel triumphant!
From now on if my crisps aren't crispy, my sushi isn't sushi..ing or my soap powder isn't making my dander-infested whites whiter than white - I'm moaning.
Those companies actually do care about whether you're happy or not. Who knew?
Woohoo!!!
Free at last, free at last, in 22 days I'll be free at last!
/does dramatic victory boogie to the shock of her co-workers.
/does dramatic victory boogie to the shock of her co-workers.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Suspiciously good for you
I had the perfect bowl of pronutro today.
It was chocolate flavoured with luke warm milk. I don't know if it was the cereal, the plastic bowl or the perfect schloopy consistency that made this bowl perfect where hundreds of others have failed but I'm glad I lived to experience the deliciously comforting taste of the perfect bowl of cereal.
It was chocolate flavoured with luke warm milk. I don't know if it was the cereal, the plastic bowl or the perfect schloopy consistency that made this bowl perfect where hundreds of others have failed but I'm glad I lived to experience the deliciously comforting taste of the perfect bowl of cereal.
Monday, April 03, 2006
The house that Liz built
This weekend I had my first Habitat experience and it was brilliant. We went out to KTC squatter camp in Nyanga to start the roof of a house that they had built over a month of consecutive Saturdays. Apparently, internationally, Habitat finishes a house every 24 minutes. They can go from foundation to dedication in just five days.
Anyway, we spent most of the day building roof trusses and lifting them up onto the house. I really enjoyed the hammering and I was unbelievably stiff as a result. Very satisfying.
It was bizarre being a tourist in my own country. KTC is actually really pretty. Impoverished, yes, but green, tons of dogs racing around and kids everywhere. They're very friendly and follow you about in these huge gangs holding onto your hands. We were greeted with shouts of "Abalungu, Abalungu" (White people! White people!) which was just bloody funny.
After we were done with the building we retired to a nearby shebeen where we were inundated with political affirmation (We think white people are cool, you should all come visit more often, one nation, all african, etc) and inside you're like "Great dude, nice to hear it, but can I finish my quart of amstel (one size, R9.50) in peace please?"
The US marines who accompanied us on the build were looking a little shell-shocked by the end...
There are two things I learnt from the experience.
1) It was really nice not to obsess about my own life for a day.
2) Although my red hard hat made me look like Bob the builder, I pulled off the construction thing admirably.
Anyway, we spent most of the day building roof trusses and lifting them up onto the house. I really enjoyed the hammering and I was unbelievably stiff as a result. Very satisfying.
It was bizarre being a tourist in my own country. KTC is actually really pretty. Impoverished, yes, but green, tons of dogs racing around and kids everywhere. They're very friendly and follow you about in these huge gangs holding onto your hands. We were greeted with shouts of "Abalungu, Abalungu" (White people! White people!) which was just bloody funny.
After we were done with the building we retired to a nearby shebeen where we were inundated with political affirmation (We think white people are cool, you should all come visit more often, one nation, all african, etc) and inside you're like "Great dude, nice to hear it, but can I finish my quart of amstel (one size, R9.50) in peace please?"
The US marines who accompanied us on the build were looking a little shell-shocked by the end...
There are two things I learnt from the experience.
1) It was really nice not to obsess about my own life for a day.
2) Although my red hard hat made me look like Bob the builder, I pulled off the construction thing admirably.
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