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theZEBRA
just spent the weekend at the army barracks
Is Chewing On
Reading:



Creation
Gore Vidal

Listening to:



Everything in Transit
Jack's Mannequin
Lick Those Stripes!
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The Herd
Carresser of Annabelle
Crazy Lone Ranger
Dave
Freddy
Island Sinker
Labert Leopard
Laynie
Lego Man
Shakin' That Ass
Sloth Min
Trina
Uber Bitch Jase
Van Ren


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Songs of the Plains
Family Court

One would be in less danger
From the wiles of a stranger
If one's own kin and kith
Were more fun to be with.

Ogden Nash
Free the Gnomes!
Wednesday. 10.11.06 2:24 pm
As the selfless person that I am – one who gives to the community, who thinks nothing of starving herself so that the hungry would have something to eat, who would gladly flay herself and offer you her skin if you needed something to bind your books with – I jumped at the chance to join a volunteer project in the country over the weekend.

According to the brochure, we would be repainting resident gnomes at Gnomesville(!), and assisting with repairs at the fire station as well as helping to develop a path to it. I wasn’t too excited about the gnomes, but the fire station… Fire trucks! Fire station pole! FIREMEN IN FIREFIGHTER UNIFORMS!

Alas, I found out too late that firemen in firefighter uniforms sliding down fire station poles and riding around in big, red fire trucks are found only in the city. In the country, it’s community volunteers in civvies drinking cups of tea in a little fire shed.

Fooled.

No matter. The lack of firemen in firefighter uniforms was made up for with an abundance of food. Glorious food, hobbit-style! Bang up breakfast! Elevensies! Lunch! Afternoon tea! Dinner! And I stuffed myself silly at every meal – the townspeople urging us to “Eat more! Eat more!”, and me crying “I can’t! I can’t!” while shovelling tart after tart into my mouth.

And the GNOMES! Hundreds of them tucked away in a little gnome village! Gnomes with axes, gnomes with guns, gnomes climbing a mini Mt. Everest, rude gnomes, dancing gnomes, RAAFA gnomes, Obi Wan Kegnomey, Astrognome, and Metrognome. And like a true tourist, I was absolutely delighted! I oohed and aahed over every gnome and took countless cheesy gnome pictures. It was lucky that there wasn’t a Gnome Souvenir Shop around or I would have gone home with a gnome pointy hat and a gnome decorative axe.

Other bits I picked up over the weekend:
  • Wellington Mill cows are pets, not food.
  • Residents of Wellington Mill are either under 14 or over 40.
  • Gardening isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
  • Pillow fights are all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Then it’s just fun.
  • A Skimpy is exactly what it sounds like.


________________________________________________________________


Gunther wasn't a fan of tourists

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A Rare Moment of Seriousness
Sunday. 1.7.07 11:25 pm
I miss Perth.

I miss getting phone calls from KI.

I miss donner kebabs.

I miss Waterford Wednesdays.

I miss just lounging around on the grass.

I miss movie nights.

I miss unexpected dinner invitations from people who know that I can't cook to save my life.

I miss waking up every day, feeling like I was on an adventure.

I miss so many things that it's pathetic. And it's only been a month since I left Perth. And a month and a half till I fly back. Pathetic, I tell you. Imagine how I'll feel after I graduate.

Maybe it's the thought that I might be missing Moments. Great, sparking, significant, engine revving, prancing-about-in-a-tutu Moments. And these might be crucial Moments. But I'll never know, cuz I'm not there.

Still, it's a comfort to know that I can count on friends to make me more Moments,

In an email detailing a party that'll be thrown after I return to Perth:

"There will be booze, I will be there and you too, or someone will be sent to
retrieve you with a pointy object."


Thanks, Matt.

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Light My Fire
Tuesday. 5.15.07 11:29 pm
Fire alarm!

The shrill, urgent tones pierce through the cool autumn night. I am walking home from the common room in a post-rugby defeat funk when the sound suddenly interrupts my reverie.

At first, I am inclined to ignore it. It's probably just burnt toast or students drunkenly setting themselves on fire. But hang on, what if it's a proper fire? With roaring flames, people screaming for help and pets chucked out the window? I already missed last month's car chase which culminated gloriously with the perpetrator ramming through the fence and crashing into the laundry building. I definitely don't want to miss a fire too. Besides, fire engines! Sirens, flashing lights and more importantly, firemen.

Firemen, firemen!

I hunt for the source of the fire alarm. It is the Coles across the road! There's no fire in sight, but there's smoke wafting from the side of the building.

"Oh no, where will we get our groceries?" moans one of my fellow onlookers.

She is right! I start to panic, but calm down when I remember that it's Saturday. It's alright, the Coles people will have the whole of Sunday to rebuild the store before Monday rolls around.

Still, I decide that we should loot the store just in case we run out of supplies.

"Let's loot the store just in case we run out of supplies," I suggest to the other onlookers.

My idea is hailed with much cheering and exuberance. I feel very proud of myself. Until it is pointed out that there are no windows through which we can smash our way in.

Boooooo!

Before I can come up with another plan to save us from starvation, a fire engine announces its arrival with wailing sirens. Then another. And another. Three fire engines, each bursting with firemen.

Firemen, firemen!

Impending starvation is forgotten as firemen pour out of the fire engines. Firemen in fire suits and fire helmets and fire boots. And underneath those fire suits and fire helmets and fire boots are smoking hot bodies. I can't see them, but they're definitely there. After all, firemen work as part-time strippers when they're off-duty.

I watch as they carry out their job purposefully. Some walk purposefully around the building, some stare purposefully across the road at us, while the others mill purposefully around the fire engines, chatting purposefully among themselves. Then they all purposefully climb into the fire engines and purposefully drive off.

Drive off?! Where were the hoses?! And the great arcing blast of water taming the wild blaze?! The heroic battle against the wanton, destructive power of a...non-existent fire. Oh. I remember that we hadn't really seen a fire at all. Just a few wisps of smoke. Which had dissipated by the time the fire engines arrived.

Boooooo!

One of the fire engines sweeps by us, lights dimmed and sirens silenced. I automatically wave as it goes past. But no one waves back.

Boooooo!

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Not Enough Room to Swing a Dead Cat
Wednesday. 5.2.07 11:11 am

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Kitchen Elves
Tuesday. 4.24.07 9:18 pm
Magic!!

My dishes are clean! I left them in an overflowing sink last night and woke up in the morning to find them washed, dried and kept away! This is magic, it MUST be magic!

I share my joyous discovery with a housemate. He smiles knowingly and whispers, “Kitchen elves.”

Kitchen elves! They must be yet another species found only in Australia. And if anyone knows about them, my housemate does. Because he’s Australian and probably learnt about them in school. Kitchen elves! With tiny yellow gloves, a tiny flowery apron and a tiny hairnet!

I wish we had them back home as well. It’s unfair that Australians already get wombats, platypuses (platypi?) and kangaroos all to themselves. Now they’re monopolising kitchen elves too? Or maybe they do exist back home as well. Maybe the maid chases them away for fear of losing her job. Dastardly woman.

I resolve to catch a kitchen elf. My room is terribly messy and I have to write blog posts on my bed because there is no space on my desk for my laptop. I also nearly twisted my ankle on a shoe someone left beside my bed. It just shows how nasty that person is because he/she used one of my shoes. But that is an investigation for another day. For now, I have to focus on acquiring a bedroom elf.

According to an expert who has conducted much research in this field, kitchen elves only appear at midnight. And the hunter must be careful not to leave elf-sized clothing lying around for them to find, for that is a sign that their services are no longer needed. This observation is backed up in other research as well. As a psychology student, research is clearly very important to me.

Back to my hunt!

I wait patiently in my room until 0000 hours rolls around. When my clock finally strikes beeps midnight, I sneak silently out of my room. I make my way to the kitchen, stealthily keeping to the shadows like a ninja. I can hear splashing and dishes clattering in the kitchen! The kitchen elves are here!

With my back to the wall, I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. This must be done in a single, deadly strike like a panther pouncing on a rabbit. I take another deep breath to clear my mind. I would be one with the darkness as well…but the kitchen lights are on.

This is it! I roar a battle cry and leap out into the kitchen, Steve Irwin style. ELF, YOU’RE MIIIIII…

But there are no elves at the kitchen sink. Instead I find a shirtless housemate, clutching a sudsy hand to his heart in shock.

Booooooooo! It was all a lie. Kitchen elves do not exist. It was my housemate all along. It is very painful to discover that you’ve been lied to.

I stare reproachfully at him before turning away and trudging back to my room. My messy room. Which will have to remain messy because bedroom elves probably don’t exist either. I am heartbroken. I curl up in my bed and try to blink the tears away.

I will not trust others as easily in the future.

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Hot XES
Sunday. 5.20.07 2:15 pm
What you missed at the XES party last night

ouch
Click on the pic for more

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Not a Nipple
Friday. 6.29.07 12:47 am
So I went for a costume party on Saturday.

The theme was "Your Childhood".

Have a guess what I went as.*



* Matt, you're a champion!

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Rarrgh Rarrrgh!
Saturday. 9.15.07 12:54 pm
I have returned.

To those among you who cursed the skies and pleaded with the gods every time you checked my blog only to find it still unchanged, I apologise for my absence. To those who didn’t, may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits.

Enough of that. I shall now entertain you with live blogging from the frontlines. Because isn’t that what being part of the media generation is about? Amusing ourselves with news of war from the safety of our couches (or leather contoured executive chair with dual wheel carpet casters) miles and miles away? Yes, it’s war here right now.

WAR?, I hear you ask, pretending to be shocked while in reality you’re rubbing your hands with excitement. Yes, war. It’s the age-old battle between humans and zombies. I’m still alive, thank the gods for that. But survival has been no easy task. Hiding out in bushes, crawling under cars, noiselessly flitting from shadow to shadow. All this while being on constant alert for shambling corpses with a taste for man-sushi (or mushi as Nick Frost calls it).


Brody Heritage, 2007


It’s nerve-wracking being in this much danger for days on end. Risking my life just to get to class and work. Oh, I may be equipped with a veritable arsenal of nerf darts and balled-up socks but I still feel exposed and vulnerable with the bright bandanna on my arm practically shouting, “Come and get it! It’s a running buffet!” to the enemy. The tension is getting to me. Just yesterday, I caught someone by surprise and pelted him with darts and socks. It was only after he shrieked like a girl and ran face-first into a wall that I realised he was an innocent bystander who had unwittingly marked himself out as a zombie by wearing a bandanna around his head. That’ll teach him to dress like a twat.


Brody Heritage, 2007


I wish my boyfriend was here to give me backup. (Do you like how I casually mentioned the sudden existence of a boyfriend? It’s called a teaser, noobs.) With his military special forces training in guerrilla fighting and war strategy, we would take out the zombie faction in no time at all. But alas, he is stranded 600km away and I am left to fight the walking dead on my own.

I will be strong. I will survive. Pray for me.


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