Month: July 2008

Heavy Duty

Dear John Russell

Today, Dainty Consolidated Entertainment announced that world heavyweight metal band Judas Priest, will not be playing in New Zealand on 7 September 2008 as originally planned.

The cancellation of the New Zealand date is due to logistic and freight issues and Dainty Consolidated Entertainment and Judas Priest apologise to all the fans who have purchased tickets for any inconvenience caused.




Massive. MASSIVE.

I enjoy reading news articles where I can sense that the author was amusing themselves as they wrote it. Usually the turn of a particular phrase is key to making this work. Apropos: The following excellent example of Smiling While Writing:

Mr Peters says he will explain in Parliament today how there is a “massive difference” in his party funnelling large corporate donations through secret trusts and others doing the same thing.


Wait .. what?

I was getting all geared up for an early start tomorrow morning, had my alarm set and checked, pondering what time to get to bed in order to be functional at 0400 … then I realised that it is tuesday and my change is scheduled for thursday morning.

I spent the whole day today thinking it was wednesday.

It’s all a blur.

My My My My Mitchell….

While discussing filmmaking projects today, I jokingly proposed that a good name for a cheesy made-for-TV mystery movie[1] would be “Addicted .. TO MURDER!”

I’ve just been told that this absurd title has actually been used for a movie already. A real one. That really exists. And not just in someones nightmares.

Now I have high hopes for my proposed cheesy documentary about WW2 submarine combat, which I shall title “Sharks .. of the sea.”

[1] You know. The kind of thing that would ‘star’ Todd Bridges or Valerie Bertinelli or Jo Don Baker. Or, one could only dream, all three!

I am not a number! No, wait, I am! An official number!

Drivers License: Restored! Unperson status: Revoked!

My birth certificate arrived, and was acceptable ID for the licensing place. Awesome!

I also went to the optometrist for a checkup and certificate for driving which was fun, especially the bit where they stick fluorescent yellow shit in your eyes then look at it with a UV lamp thing (I think the yellow stuff helps them see the blood vessels in your eyes). There were a couple of amusing exchanges with the optometrist, thusly:

She: “Do you spend much time using computers, or reading books?”
Me: “I … Uh … Yes.”
She: “I thought so.”

So apprently I am shortsighted, with an astygmatism in my left eye, which is pretty much the exact same diagnosis I got about 10 or 15 years back, so that’s cool. New glasses are forthcoming, but I am still perfectly fine to drive without them. Neat. Also…

She: “Typically, when men get to 45 or 50, their eyes change with age so that their vision ‘shifts’ and they need glasses for close up stuff like reading or computer operation. However, with your shortsightedness, you’re mostly already corrected for that, so you likely won’t need them. You’re pretty much set up for computer use or reading.”
Me: “I KNEW it!”

Better run for COVER!

So now I have a ticket to the non-seated horn-throwin’ area of the Vector Arena, all the better to experience the FULL METALNESS of JUDAS PRIEST!

Breakin’ the law! Breakin’ the law!

I wonder who else will be attending?

‘sup fool? Identify this shit, yo.

Annette has never played any of the Diablo games[1] so every time we’re on the Northern motorway and we pass the Tristram off-ramp, my frequent “Stay a while! And listen!” comments are met with a blank look. Or a pitying look, the kind you would give a kitten that’s trying to ferociously bite you, but is too pathetic to do so properly.

We’re going to buy a couple of copies of Diablo 3, though, and play through it cooperatively. I have high hopes for it – Blizzard have quite simply never put out a crap game.

[1] Though she has played a lot of WoW, and WoW’s gameplay owes much .. or all .. to Diablo.

Jim Beams are gonna blind me!

So Annette and I are watching a documentary on the topic of Abba, the famously jumpsuit-clad Swedish supergroup. They’re getting various celebrities to rank Abba’s top 20 songs. Super Trouper is listed at number 16, and I’m thinking “Huh, only 16? Thought that one would be in the top ten for sure, maybe the top 5.” Then, this …

Annette: “I don’t know this one.”
JSR: “This one what?”
Annette: “This song.”
JSR: “This song? Super Trouper?”
Annette: “Yeah. Never heard this one.”
JSR: “You fucking have.”
Annette: “I have not!”
JSR: “You’ve never heard Super Trouper?”

In order to express my amazement, I would have to include a picture here of someone going “Wha’!?” and I don’t have one. So use your imagination. I felt much the same as when, back in the 90’s, a good friend many years my junior said “Who’s Duran Duran?”

Additional unrelated note: They had an interview with Donny Osmond during this documentary, and he was being dreadfully earnest about how excited the lyric “Uh-huhhh” from “Knowing me, knowing you.” got him.

Annette: “He’s .. he’s very wholesome, isn’t he?”
JSR: “Mormon.”
Annette: “Ah, right.”

I actually have some memories of watching the Donny and Marie show on TV back in the 1970s and thinking that Donny was a pretty dorky. And I myself, was (a) a child aged in single figures and living in a small farming town in New Zealand, and (b) pretty damn dorky myself. So he must have been an utter spaz.

Ooh! Me! Me! I’ll watch the watchmen! Pick me!

The trailer for the new Watchmen movie looks .. pretty good. I like the visual work of the characters, anyway – and the clockwork palace on Mars[1] also looks excellent.

I won’t get my hopes up high, however, because the trailer for The Phantom Menace also looked good. In fact, that trailer actually made a hugely better emotional connection than the movie did, possibly because in the trailer you didn’t have to watch people fail to act while delivering leaden dialogue.

Anyway, Watchmen. I likes what I sees, so far.

[1] You know – when I write it down like that … it sounds really silly.

The Gyre is damn well Widening.

Last night, on the way home, I was stopped for speeding on the motorway. “But officer!” I said, “I am SURE I was only going 95 or so!”. Turns out that the section of motorway I was on has, unbeknownst to me but definitely fucking beknownst to the rozzers, a speed limit of 80.

“I notice..” says the officer “..that you were not wearing a seatbelt.”

Ding! Speeding ticket. Ding! Seatbelt ticket. ANGER!

I was as nice as pie to the officer, taking the opportunity to say “It’s a fair cop.” to him, because I love that shit, and I bet they do too. I’ve said that while actually _being arrested_ in the past, so it’s nice to stick with tradition.

“I’m just going to run your car registration and warrant status and your license and stuff, as a matter of routine.”

No problem. Car is registered, and I got a warrant recently.

“Are you aware that your license has expired?”

DING! Huge-ass ticket. License confiscated. ANGER!

“You can drive home, and I’ll follow you to make sure you go there, but you can’t drive again until you get a new license.”

Fucks sake. Okay, fine, there’s a licensing place nearby. I’ll go there tomorrow morning and get a new one, they’ll give me a temp one while they mail my new real one out. In the meantime, a relaxing evening of WoW and surfing the net.

Except I’ve left my laptop power supply at work. ANGER!!

Annette kindly drives me to work to get it. She’s so stressed out she cries. It’s my fault. ANGER!!! AT SELF!

I search the internet for what paperwork I require to get a new license. I need ID, and some other shit. I go to the place where I keep my passports. They are Not There. I search the apartment. Can’t find them. ANGER!!!! I punch a door. It does not help, and it makes me feel like the kind of fuckwit that punches things. I resolve to not do it again. I find a photocopy of a notarised version of my birth certificate. This will suffice.

The next morning, I step boldly out of the shower onto the wet floor of the bathroom. I hilariously fall, taking the impact on my elbow. ANGER!!!!

Annette drives me to the licensing center. They do not accept photocopies. ANGER!!!!!!

Annette drives me to work. I hope she finds her way home OK.

She does.

My elbow has stiffened up so much that I now can’t really move it. Fortunately I could feel this coming and have positioned it in a 45-degree bend so I am in an ideal typing and WASD-key operating stance.

I order a new birth certificate. The time to print out a copy of a piece of paper is _eight working days_, plus two more days “To mail it out”. ANGER!!!!!!!!!

This has not been a winning 12 hours for me, so far.