left by notabouthim, here’s this morning’s offerings:
Cute animals in casts [Edit – fixed]
Biscuit city, courtesy of one of the best websites in the whole English-speaking world.
But I’ll not be doing this everyday, unlike that Si person, as there’s just not enough hours in the day.
Oh, and my pathetic quest for external validation continues:
ECON 334 UG Feminist Economics A+
Heavenly Burlesque gets slagged by the National Business Review. Who’d have thought that it’d be really not their kind of thing?
from fafblog, of course:
Q. Why are we in Iraq?
A. For freedom! Recent intelligence informs us it is on the march.
Q. Hooray! Where’s it marching to?
A. To set up a government of the people, by the people, for the people, and held in check by strict adherence to the laws of Islam.
Q. Huh! Freedom sounds strangely like theocracy.
A. No it doesn’t! It is representative godocracy, in which laws are written by the legislative branch, enforced by the executive branch, and interpreted by an all-powerful all-knowing deity which manifests its will through a panel of senior clerics.
Q. Whew! Is democracy on the march?
A. Democracy was on the march. Sadly, freedom and democracy were caught in a blizzard and freedom was forced to eat democracy to survive.
Q. It died as it lived: sautéed in garlic sauce with a side of scalloped potatoes.
A. Democracy is survived by sectarian violence and fanaticism. In lieu of flowers, please send a coherent exit strategy.
And Rob was in fourth place until… well, bother.
Another ride, up at Makara, then flying kites in the park, then Alice & Fergus’ wedding at the Paramount. It was the best wedding I’ve ever been to. All weddings should include a Mexican wave and the ceremonial making of cups of tea and vows.
Ooh, that hurt.
Took the start very steady, chilled out up the first two hills, got to the top of Devil’s Staircase, realised that I felt absolutely fine, rather than utterly dead. And so gave it some. Railed Big Ring Boulevard, got to the bottom of Dopers and said to myself “right, this hill is mine”. So thrashed it, passed lots of people, coz I was at Warp Speed Grovel, and they were slugs. Still, blew up bad about two-thirds of the way up, but topped out and headed on for a most deserved 15 km downhill. The drop out of the forest was flat out, trapeze strength coming in most handy for just hanging on to the brakes whilst plummeting. And then got in behind some woman who was nailing the gorge, way faster than I could ride it on my own, and just hung on to her.
I wanted to do under five hours. I did 4.25, so I’m a happy bunny.
And Rob? Rob was comfortably in the top 5 at the top of the Devil’s Staircase when he punctured both tyres hard enough to be unfixable. So he had a four hour walk out. Arse.
And if you’ve no idea what I’m on about:
one of the best bike races in the world
There was laughter and tears and drama and suspense and heart-stopping moments of affirmation. And that was just the audience. The show was damn good too. I know my favourite bit, but I need to do less strategic management and more reality.
And I have to get up in seven hours time and ride the mountain bike race of perilous and agonizing doom. Its been nice knowing you all…
Me: Happy valentines. Insert schmaltzy crap here
Her: Oh fvck. ick. same 2 u.
So today I decided to see if I could manage a day of achieving nothing at all. Yup, my aim was to maximise slackness.
I failed. The garden has been dug and the bike fettled for next weekend. I’d care, but whatever…
tieke‘s birthday & xmas present has been a secret since december. She had no idea as we wandered up to the zoo, and the staff were great at keeping it a secret. In fact they were great all round. And then we turned the corner and there was a cheetah. Yup, we went for a play with the big kitties.
Cheetahs walk with pauses. Although maybe that’s coz humans just walk slow. And lots of twisting all along their backbone. The bones in their tails are chunky and square in section. Big feet, blunt claws on the back feet. Medium to coarse hair, a bit coarser than a dogs, but still soft to stroke. Hind muscles like a bloody big greyhound, when one jumped up onto the waist-high log, he didn’t seem too slowed down by gravity. They smell more like dogs than cats.
They’d never seen someone with a shaven head before. One of them, Charlie, kept staring at my head. Sometimes, he really wasn’t happy about it, which is odd, having forty kilos of predator looking at your head, working out whether to have a chew or just a lick. And their eyes are huge and transparent, the iris seems far below the cornea. Other times he just purred. Cheetahs purr like earthquakes.
Giraffes smell like cows. And they have cow skin too.
and you know the really worrying thing? I’m allergic to everything cattish. Except cheetahs. When I’m stratospherically far beyond rich, and own a few hundred thousand acres, I’ll get some and feed them on peasants whilst cackling manically.
I’ll be going on the friday the 17th, as
Am not going on the 18th, coz that’s Karapoti day, so that evening I will be dead.
Further info at http://www.paramount.co.nz/coming_soon.htm, scroll down, or see the flyers with naked people on them.
* – The act is Bureaucrats exploring their wild side. Its autobiographical, I think.
I keep forgetting to eat, but this coursework is so nearly done. And then I can stop.
In summary, orthodox economists are evil, radical economists would be annoying if they had any relevance or power. But they don’t.