Why do I always post on tuesdays?

2006, Mar 07    

It must be part of some freaky internet life-cycle which will become apparent in the next few decades. Like those people who die in internet cafes after marathon sessions of online gaming.

My world is audity at the moment - we’re being audited by CASA, and audited by SAI, in Melbourne and Vancouver. All good stuff, but it doesn’t allow much time for pretty much anything. This is perhaps compounded by the last two weekends, which have involved much driving in order to go and farmsit a cat, up in the country, with a friend, Dave. Don’t get me wrong, the country is wonderful, but I’m used to getting a few hours alone each week which I find essential to recharging for the next week. People have their good points, but I only really want to deal with them 6 days out of 7. Anyway, the last two weekends have been filled with training, running up hills, chasing Roos, tending chickens, and being stomped all over by a cat. On the first weekend, just after it rained we had 500 odd black caterpillars try and storm the house, and the better part of half an hour was spent dissuading them with a broom, and skirmishing with the ones who’d made it inside. The second weekend we were ambushed by biggest freakin’ spider I’ve seen outside a specimen jar. We’re talking 15 cm across with two 1.5 cm long fangs of spidery terror, and it moved like the wind. I suspect it was a huntsman or wolf spider, we knew it wasn’t likely to be poisonous, but at it’s size, there was some question as to whether it might not just take a leg off at the ankle anyway. It was rapidly despatched, after which we spent some time scanning every other surface in the house for lurking monsters.

Anyway, more stuff I found recently. It’s not fantastic, but it’s better than Aquaman.

As what as a fox?

And scarily, a committee must have approved this.

And a whole bunch of other stuff on three dee rooms. The architect has had the rooms painted in such a fashion as to show an optical illusion. Very reminiscent of Julian Beever’s work.

In essence, this is the sort of thing they do at shopping centres, where they have mirrors on all the pillars except the ones facing the exit. That way, your mind is looking for the open space that it remembers from walking in, but has trouble finding it from the mirrored side. Oh those sneaky retailers. Speaking of which, I need some retail therapy; can anyone recommend a good place to go shopping for dressy non-work shirts?