I see trees of green

I sometimes wonder if everyone sees colours differently. As in, the colour I see when I think ‘that is green’ is the colour you think is red. Because if you think about it- there is no way to describe a colour, other than by reference to an object- i.e. green is the colour of grass.  We all think trees are green and blood is red because we are told that is so. So to you, the colour of grass is green, but your green could be my blue, but that is the normal colour of grass to me.

And you could say red is the colour of passion or danger, and a bad mood is a black one, but that is just socially conditioned.

And so, maybe when I think I am wearing all black, you think ‘boring’ because the colour black you see is different to the colour black I see. I think this is the only way to explain some of the outfits I see at work. It is doing my head in trying to think of a way that we can test this.

I also think that everyone has the same favourite colour- it is just that we all call it a different colour. Everyone’s favourite colour is my black. Some of you call it green and others call it blue, but it is my black.

dia de los muertos

May we celebrate your day of [political] death 21 August, mAbbggott

possessive hold

nothing cracks me up more than good possessive hold in a photo. This fashionable one from the Sartorialist. I have decided to make a new category just for these bad boys.

Sunset clause

The daytime will cease to be in force when colours other than blue, grey or white appear in the sky

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involuntary hygiene

A washed and furious fellow,

Having eaten a compensatory pigs snout

Watches and waits that he might exit

And roll in shit and romp in mud,

Cursing paws that cannot open doors.

Gangstas

Those lovable gangsters the Ninja Cunts. Stealing textas from school and drawing weeing [I assume, based on the trajectory] dicks and ninjas throughout the ghetto that is Ainslie. Probably collecting protection money from the local art supplies and organic vegetable dealers and striking fear and terror into the hearts of resident public servants and retirees alike.

Paws a moment

Here is one for all my crazy dog people. I could watch dogs chew things for days. I am obsessed with how they use their hands and the crazy angles they get their heads on to get the perfect chew. You have got to love a being that can derive so much pleasure from eating a stick.

Here is Biggie Fries chewing:

Yeah I know what you are thinking, but you’re wrong. YES I get about every where with dog hairs on me. YES I incessantly tell stories about dogs (WHAT- have you NOT read this fucking blog). YES I only have photos of dogs and not people at my work desk. YES I have Kip Ramsey and Biggie Fries tattooed on me. NO I have not commissioned photorealistic portraits of them to hang on my wall of pride in my house. So no,  I am NOT a certifiably crazy dog lady.

The Game

Like all good spectator sports, it is pretty hard to convey the sense of excitement one feels when watching The Game. It is highly recommended you witness at least one round in person in this lifetime.

The rules are pretty complex- and to the untrained observer it looks/sounds like about 29 black and white dogs and Toby running around, jumping and barking a lot but it goes something like this:

1- Kip and Wombat are the main players (although there is a form of The Game played when Kip is in Ainslie but Biggie is in Burra);

2- Wombat must chase Kip;

3- Farm Louis is on Wombat’s team and has to interfere* with Kip;

4- Biggie is on Kip’s team, but does not undertake interference on Wombat to the level of physicality that Louis does on Kip (probably because Wombat would beat the shit out of him if he did);

5- Bess is probably the referee-  she just barks alot;

6- When present, Ellie is also on Kip’s team but makes no physical contact with any other players. She stays wide and safe and barks very annoyingly if there is too long a pause in The Game;

7- Dudley shadows Ellie- he is on his L plates;

8- Town Lu, being at least 50% non-working breed doesn’t get it and just runs and jumps and barks because it is fun;

9- Toby never gets anything and often doesn’t even go near the playing track when The Game is on.

*interference- blocking easiest or quickest route, shouldering, biting, looking ominous etc.

This is a map of the course where the dashed lines are the permitted routes players can take.

And here are some actione shots from The Game.

Flyin’ Fries

Wombat: ‘Gonna get you.’

Kip: ‘Faaark!’

Wombat undertaking a spectacular launch off turn rock

Team Kip possibly being yellow carded by Bess the ref for some [homosapienly] imperceptible breach

Bats and Biggie are the only players authorised to do the loop around Dad’s house (top right corner of the map). All other players must remain in the junkyard area eagerly awaiting the victor of this amazing canine feat of speed and cornering 

At some [again, homosapienly] imperceptible signal, time out is called and all players must immediately proceed to the dam to swim.

Oh Tobes, is there anything you DO understand?

Kip lands a jump from the junkyard area. The ref can be seen in the background monitoring the interference played by Farm Louis (also in background)

Fries takes an easy turn off turn rock coming out of the junkyard area

You know when the star player is walking full time is pending

Enspore!

Look at these amazing moulds I grew (much to the delight of my colleagues) on the giant petrie dish that is my work desk over the long weekend.

I second the motion

I will begin this post with a Mark Twain quote:

“Nothing is so overrated as sex and so underrated as a good bowel movement.”

See the title of this post to get a feel for what I think on that.

This weekend I spent a total of three days and two nights staying with my sis and her boyfriend in Melbourne. Another two of my friends were also in Melbourne for the same duration, staying with another friend. We all love food very much and so, being in Melbourne, food capital of Australia, we ate alot of really good food. And we all suffered from shy bot.

Shy what?

If you google it you will get this guy:

Awwww adorable, but not the kind of shy bot I have.

The term shy bot was invented by my aunty and is used to describe the phenomenon of instant and lasting constipation brought on by travelling and having to stay in someone else’s house (it would seem your bottom gets shy when he is not in familiar surrounds). Yes, the bottom is masculine.

It could be a girl only thing because all the boys (Tim) I have asked about this have said huh?

Anyway, lets just say after 3 days, by the time I got back to my house I looked pregnant and did a 700 gram-er. (Did you just have to read that twice? You: read it once ‘Huh???‘; read it again: ‘Ohhh OHHHH!‘). One of my other friends did a half kilo-er but she is smaller than me.  I think 700g is well above average. I know out of curiosity you are gonna weigh your next poo.* Lord knows I am!

*Tip for new starters: weigh yourself before and after the poo, don’t weigh the poo itself.