A very clever plan...

... So it looks like they've dropped the charges against that guy they arrested in the JonBenet Ramsey case. Somehow, it really doesn't surprise me. He was practically screaming "obsessed schizophrenic".

If you ask me, the guy is seriously disconnected from reality and possibly even believes he did it. But none of his statements even came close to what really happened. Oh, there's no doubt that the bloke is a paedophile, and that he probably deserves a nice long term in a eight by ten cell, but he obviously had nothing to do with that little girl's case.

But as someone mentioned to me the other day, isn't it interesting that at the end of it all this guy is back in America in a nice comfortable American jail?

When you think about it, it's really rather clever. I wonder whether his lawyer suggested it or if he came up with it himself. He confesses to a crime he knows he didn't commit and knows the dna evidence won't be able to prove and gets himself extradited back to the US. It's got to be a preferable option to being in a Bangkok jail, not a place I'd chose to be incarcerated.

You've got to give credit where credit's due. It's a damned smart plan. Law and Order smart...

Sexist Telemarketers...

... Okay, here's a hypothetical question. If a telemarketer hangs up on me because I don't have a husband, should I be insulted that he doesn't see me as a valid potential annoyee, or should I just be glad I got rid of him with so little fuss?

Alright, so it's not really that hypothetical. But I'm serious, I just got a call from a telemarketer who, in a very thick accent I might add, told me he was from some company I'd never even heard of and could he please speak to my husband about mortgages.

Now I'm a renter so I don't have a mortgage, but I didn't even get a chance to tell him that because as soon as I said "Oh, I'm single" he just thanked me for my time and hung up! Sure he was polite, but polite sexism really isn't better than any other sort.

It was as if I couldn't possible talk business because I'm a woman. Must be the ovaries, you obviously can't discuss mortgages if you've got ovaries. Stupid sexist telemarketer.

But then I started to think about it a bit more. Why on earth was I getting upset about it? I may have just discovered the quickest and easiest way to get one of those annoying people off the phone without having to tell them half a dozen times that I don't want to change long distance providers and if they don't stop hassling me I'll speak to their supervisor.

So from now I whenever a telemarketer calls, I'm just going to reply to their first question with "Sorry, I'm single" and hang up. I'll let you all know how it goes...

This is a community announcement...

... Attention: If I ever lay my hands on the person who invented the underwire bra, I'm going to shove a delicate part of his anatomy (to be decided on at a later date) through a straw, just to see how he likes having said delicate part of his anatomy twisted and mangled to the point where you'd willingly go "free range" as long as you didn't have to see that torturous metal contraption again!

This message was brought to you by the incredibly uncomfortable, yet rather nice looking underwire bras I bought yesterday. Damn your eyes, deceptively good looking bras! Damn your eyes...

Words that amuse me...

... Some words have gone out of fashion, disappearing like the dinosaurs as the natural evolution of our language progressed. But I've got to be honest, I miss some of them. I think their absense creates a gaping hole in our conversations that the newer alternatives just can't fill.

Therefore, I'd like to put forward for consideration the following list of words I'd like to see brought back into the mainstream of the english language.

* criminy .ie. "Crinimy, that girl's skirt is so short it could be a belt!"
* strumpet .ie. "Can you believe that strumpet? If her skirt were any shorter it'd be a belt!"
* kerfuffle .ie. "She's creating quite a kerfuffle with that belt-like skirt."
* boudoir .ie. "Couldn't she have picked another skirt when she was in her boudior?"
* flabergasted .ie. "I'm flabergasted that she managed to squeeze into that teeny little skirt."

So, my dears, you mission is to adopt these words and use them as much as you can in your day-to-day conversations. If we all work together, I believe we can bring them back into popular use.

Or at least make people look at us like we've got two heads...

The Demise of Neville...

... From the computer repair shop.

Telepathic scanning...

... So I took Neville the Laptop into a local computer repair place yesterday afternoon. I guess I'm still hoping that they'll be able to pull a miracle out of their rears and tell me that it's a quick fix job, only take a few minutes, I'll have it back before I even know it's missing. Do you think I might be in denial?

When I handed it over to the guy and told him what was wrong, he nodded reassuringly doing that whole "telepathic scan" thing that service people do when they can't see inside your machine and have to sense what's wrong, and muttered something about soldering this and reattaching this, but of course he'd have to wait for their "laptop guy" to check it out before telling me for sure. Now I'm no expert but even I know that when they talk about soldering and reattaching, it's usually a cheap job. No replacement parts, you see. So my hear soared and the world looked a little bit brighter .

But only for a minute. That's when an older guy, obviously senior to the one who was serving me, came over and did his own "telepathic scan". His comments weren't anywhere near as comforting. As soon as he said the word "motherboard", I knew I was in for a world of financial hurt.

Of course there's no guarantee that this guy would be right and the younger guy would be wrong, but knowing my luck it was very likely. For some reason when something goes wrong with one of my possessions, it's always the worst, most damaging, most expensive thing possible. Always.

But at least now I'll know, and I can decide from there. I've got a nasty feeling though that very soon I'll be hunting for Neville T Laptop the third (this Neville is actually Neville Jr).

Of course, just to rub salt into the wound, I get the e-mail from the broadband provider telling me that my connection is FINALLY ready to go. So here I am, internet faster than anything I've experienced before at my fingertips, and absolutely no way to access it.

I really must have been Jack the Ripper in a past life. It's the only way to explain my karma...

Avenue Q...

... I'm a huge fan of Avenue Q, but seeing as I live in Australia this is probably the closest I'll ever get to seeing it.

Oh Neville, why hast thou forsaken me...

... I'm in mourning. Just paint me solemn, slap a black armband on me and call me The Widow Kelstar. Why, you ask? Because last night Neville decided to conk out on me. He's taking a cyber dirt nap. He's pushing up digital daisies. Yep, Neville the Laptop is dead! Long live the Queen!

Alright, I'll stop exagerating. So he's not really dead, he's just having a little trouble being able to work out when his power cord is plugged in. I stick it in his back, and yet he keeps showing me that little battery symbol. Smug little battery symbol! Why won't you disappear?

So when I realised that I had approximately an hour and a half of battery power left before it'd shut off on me, I did the only thing that I could think of ... I called Doofus. Yep, there are definitely some perks to having a computer genius for a brother.

Unfortunately, as good as he is, even he can't fix a hardware problem from around a thousand kilometres away (he's tall, but his arms just aren't that long). After I described what was happening, he knew right away what the problem was. And it's not a cheap problem.

So now I'm going to have to make a decision. Do I take it back to the manufacturer who will definitely fix it, but probably charge me as much as it would cost to buy a whole new computer? Do I gamble on one of the fellows who've done the brave thing and listed their services in the computer repairs section of the yellow pages? Or do I just go out and buy a new computer? Hmm, it's not going to be easy to decide which is the right direction.

Of course this had to happen only days after I'd signed an 18 month contract with a broadband company and only one day after I'd bought all the equipment for it. Murphy's Law, I guess. Oh, I know I'll want it anyway, no matter what I end up doing. Whatever the outcome, I need a computer with the internet. It just seems awfully convenient that at 11am I'm on the phone with the broadband company, getting more and more frustrated with their inability to listen to what I'm saying and eventually just yelling at the girl to stop talking (Honestly, she wouldn't stop! She just kept going on and on even though I told her that wasn't what I was calling about), and by 8pm that night my computer "mysteriously" starts playing up!

Coincidence? I think not!

Alas, poor Neville, we hardly knew ye...

Enterprising bargaining...

... I stopped by Harvey Norman's last night on my way home. I know, it's hardly one of my usual hangout. All that electrical equipment and computer stuff ... it gives me the willys. But I needed a new modem and Doofus assured me that I'd get it much cheaper at a computer shop than I would buying directly from the internet providerd, so I took a deep breath and entered that Zeus forsaken world.

And it was exactly what I'd expected, packed to the gills with techies, geeks and people who obviously were suffering from vitimin D deficiency. Everywhere there were gamers fondling boxes with titles like "World of Warcraft" and "Syphon Filter Dark Mirror" and "Tekkan 5 Dark Ressurrection". Fondling them the way that I fondle second hand books. That should give you an idea of just how get-a-roomy they were.

But I was determined. I needed that modem, so I marched in and did the thing we women always do when we want a sales assistant to come help us in an electrical, hardware or sporting store. I stood right in the middle of the room and looked around with a lost expression on my face, chewing on a fingernail and occasionally referring to the note in my hand as if I was desperately looking for something. Works every time, within thirty seconds some guy with "Easy Commission" flashing on the inside of his eyelids came bounding over to ask if I needed any assistance.

You bet I did! I thrust the note into his hand and told him that I needed what was written there and I hoped it made sense. And truthfully I did. I had no idea, Doofus had just reeled off a whole string of words and numbers that were either the details of an ADSL modem or the command codes for a nuclear missile housed somewhere off the west coast. I'm sure time will tell which.

But he seemed to understand and rushed off as fast as he could, returning seconds later with a big box that had that string of words and numbers on it. Pretty good chance this was what I needed then! I could buy it, get out of there, and be home before the real peak hour traffic started percolating. But when he told me the price I realised that nothing is ever that simple.

Sixty dollars more than I thought it'd be! Sixty dollars! Now I resented having to hand over the cash for the modem in the first place (for a person who can spend with the best of 'em, I'm surprisingly tight fisted at times) so being told that it would cost me sixty dollars more just annoyed me.

Time to play hardball.

I told him that I'd been told it wouldn't cost more than such and such.

He told me that the ticket price was the RRP.

I told him that I'd seen it for between forty and sixty dollars cheaper online.

He told me (while gesturing to his computer) that the thing had cost THEM more than that.

I told him (while screaming "LIAR LIAR" in my head) that I couldn't buy it at that price.

He told me (reluctantly) that he could drop the price by thirty dollars, but no more as that would bring it down to cost.

I agreed because I really did need that modem, and that brought the price down, if not to the cheapest I'd seen, at least into a reasonable category.

Of course, this means one of the two following is accurate, I'm just not sure which.

"Guess what I did last night! Some sales guy tried to screw me over but I finally beat him into submission and got a fair price."

or

"Guess what I did last night! I managed to screw some poor sales guy out of his commission by making him reduce my purchase to cost."

Which one is true? Your guess is as good as mine...

Politics and cartoons...

... I liked a lot of different cartoon shows when I was a kid, but there's one that even now stands out in my mind as above and beyond the rest. I think we all remember The Smurfs with a certain sense of nostalgic fondness.



Should I be concerned that it was about miniature blue communistic gnomes, or am I just reading too much into it?

Makes you wonder if Scooby Doo had any serious political affiliation too, doesn't it...

One small step for Kelstar...

... Over the internet phone.

Doofus: What's up, Kel?
Me: I finally did it! I'm getting broadband!
Doofus: That's great! What's the plan?
Me: It's from that provider you recommended, the third one down in the second lot.
Doofus: (silence)
Me: Doof? You still there?
Doofus: Kel, this is ADSL2.
Me: Yep, that's what the girl said.
Doofus: You're kidding! You're getting ADSL2?
Me: (sarcastically)I believe we've clarified that already.
Doofus: Do you have any idea what it is? It's brilliant, much better than my connection! It's like 24 meg a second, that's about 16 times faster than mine!
Me: (surprised) Really? Huh, well there you go. Why don't you have it if it's so flashy? You're normally right in there for any new toys.
Doofus: It's not available to our area. ADSL2! I can't believe it. It's just not fair!
Me: So that means I'm going to have some sort of technology before you?
Doofus: Uh huh.
Me: Does that make me the technology guru?
Doofus: Oh shut up.
Me: And wouldn't that make you the technology retard?
Doofus: (growls)
Me: Hmm, I think I'm going to like this.
Doofus: (muttering) bite me...

Time capsule...

... Well it was census night last night and I filled in the form like a good little girl. I even put the correct answers in, despite overwhelming urge to reply to "What is your name?" with "Her Royal Highness, Mother Shabooboo". But that $1000 fine threat kept floating in front of me so I managed to restrain myself for the sake of my bank balance.

There was one new section on the form this time though. At the very end of the form, you could tick a box if you wanted your details archived and then released to the public in a hundred years. Kind of like a nationwide timecapsule.

Did any of you ever do a time capsule when you were younger? They were all the rage back in the eighties. I remember when I was about fifteen Mum and Doofus got all excited because they found a box of some sort hidden in the cavity between the upstairs floor and the downstairs ceiling. Thinking that someone must have hidden some sort of treasure there, they were all ready to fish the thing out of it's hidey hole when I just happened to walk by.

Of course they were disappointed when I told them that I'd put it there a few years earlier, but no where near as disappointed as they would have been if they'd opened it up to find some of my old photos, a few knick-knacky toys and a note stating that it was my time capsule. What I thought anyone was going to learn by that junk I've no idea, but at twelve it SEEMED like a good idea.

But back to the census issue. So now our forms are going to be released to the public in a century's time. I guess they think it'll help people in the future understand us better. I'm not sure how though. I mean, I'm sure that knowing how much each household makes a year and how many people own their own home will be very educational, but not too many people are going to find it interesting.

If it were up to me, I'd have put another section in the census, the whole purpose of which would be to show people in the future what we're REALLY like. Questions like "What was your most embarrassing experince? Describe in detail." or "Have you ever had an affair? Please be specific to assist in tracking accurate family trees.". See, those sorts of questions would give the people of the future information that they'd want to know.

And this, my friends, is why the government should really start asking for my opinion before they go ahead with these sorts of projects...

Blegh...

... So, for anyone who read my last entry, you'll see I'm still down with the flu. That's the coughing, wheezing, funny tingling sensation behind the nose flu, not the one that involves things shooting out of either end. At first I was inclined to pass it off as a cold, but it's been around for four days now with no indication that it plans on letting up, so I'm making an executive decision to promote it to the title of "flu". If it lasts until the end of the week, I'm going to bump it up to black plague.

Oh, don't mind me. I just tend to get cranky when I'm unwell. Actually, that's how you can tell I'm starting to get better. If I've got the energy to whinge then I must be on the mend. Either way, I've GOT to go back to work tomorrow, voice or no voice. They'll just have to put up with me writing everything down with a sharpie and a spiral note pad.

Of course, I don't expect to get any sympathy from my comrades in arms. When I sent an e-mail in this morning telling my supervisor that I wouldn't be in, his reply was "Hope you feel better. At the moment I am up to my eye-ballswith cold and flu tablets. Might not be helping the flu, but I feel great!!!!!!!". I expect I'll go in tomorrow to find that just about everyone was off either yesterday or today.

That's the way it works in offices, isn't it. If one of you goes down, you're damn well going to take everyone else down with you! I guess nothing spreads so fast in an office as germs and gossip...

What Kelstar learnt today...

... What Kelstar learnt today:

1. If you drop a two litre bottle of diet coke down a set of cement stairs, it'll do an amazing impersonation of a carbonated guided missile and head straight for the most expensive looking car in the parking lot. When you're not feeling well, this won't amuse you as much as you might think.

2. No matter what the chemist says, a packet of cold and flu tablets that advertises "cough supressant" is not necessarily telling the truth. It's probably more economical to buy the packet that's five dollars cheaper and then splurge on the bottle of cough syrup.

3. When you try to gesture to the checkout chick that you've lost your voice, she'll automatically start speaking louder and enunciating like you've gone deaf. Glaring at her won't make her stop, she'll just beam condescendingly at you and scream "HERE ... IS ... YOUR ... CHANGE!"

4. If your throat is sore and raspy, that's when you'll get half a dozen telemarketers calling in a row. For some reason, they won't accept that you've "lost your voice" and will continue trying to convince you to change long distance carrier until you hang up on them in frustration....

Use the force, Kelstar...

... It's funny how quickly five years can go by. It doesn't seem like that long since we last had a census in Australia, but given that I came home yesterday to find a census survey shoved under my welcome mat and the instructions to fill it out on Tuesday night I guess it must be.

I'm sure all sorts of useful information will be gathered, but to be completely honest there's only one thing I'm interested in finding out about, and it's got nothing to do with the average weekly wage or how many dependants per household. What I want to know is whether enough people will have put Jedi down as their religious affiliation this time round for it to be made an official religion.

I remember back in 2001 there was a major push by all the Star Wars fans out there, bless their little nerdy hearts, to get as many people putting it down as possible so it'd be officially recognised by the government. Of course that lead to the government threatening all sorts of things if they did, most specifically a $1000 fine for anyone "knowingly providing false or misleading information on their census forms".

Of course, that just got them all worked up even more. As a general rule we Australians are a pretty laid back bunch, but tell us we "can't" do something and you'd be surprised just how rebellious we become. Perhaps it's got something to do with our convict heritage, we don't exactly come from the most law-abiding of folks and we CERTAINLY don't appreciate authority figures.

So, come census time all the little Jedi-ites put it down anyway. Of course fining all those people would be extremely difficult, not to mention the problem of trying to prove that the information WAS false, so the government were forced to eat their words. Oh, I'm not saying that they put Jedi down in the Australian Bureau of Statistics publications as an official religion, but no one got fined for saying that it was what they believed in. So I suppose it was a victory of sorts. After all, if the works of a science fiction writer like L Ron Hubbard can result in a fully recognised religion, why not the Jedi?

But this time round I haven't heard anyone talking about it. I wonder if all those people who put Jedi down last time will do it again. Perhaps they've forgotten about it. Perhaps they've "grown up" in the past five years. I hope not though. I'd really love to read the next lot of statistics and see Jedi in it's own little column...

Cold induced shopping...

... The hills are well and truely alive with the sounds of sniffing. Damned cold, of course I'd have to go and get it just as the weekend was starting. I'm all snorty and snuffly, I've been gargling betadine throat gargle like it's going out of fashion, and I've been holed up on the couch all morning with the cat in my lap and a box of tissues on the coffee table beside me. it's not a pretty sight people.

But at least it's just a cold. Having had my fair share of them I'm well able to distinguish the difference between a common or garden cold and a real flu. It'll be over in a few days, no doubt having moved on to wreak it's own germy brand of havoc on some other poor unsuspecting fool.

I was speaking to KS on the phone earlier and she was saying that she's down with it too. We had a great time comparing the ridiculous things we've bought at the supermarket in cold-related purchasing fits. Oh yes, they always tell you that you should never go grocery shopping when you're hungry because you'll buy all sorts of stuff you don't really need or want. What they don't tell you is that rule applies even moreso for when you've got a cold.

Take my shopping basket yesterday afternoon, as an example. When I reached the checkout counter I had frozen hash browns (I never do get around to actually putting them IN the oven. They just sit in the freezer until they're frostbitten), a tin of crab meat (Don't ask me, I'm not sure why either), and a half litre container of the richest chocolate icecream I could find (Oh yes, dairy for the girl with the phlegm. Good idea!).

I guess when we're not feeling well we instinctively look for things to make us feel better. When faced with a supermarket, that's going to be the foods we consider comfort foods. Believe me, I came within a hairs bredth of also bringing home a Sarah Lea cheesecake and a half kilo piece of roasting beef!

Maybe next time I have a cold I'll just steer clear of supermarkets altogether...

Technological Advances...

... My brother has been badgering me for ages to go out and get myself one of those internet headsets. You see, that's what Doofus does, he drags me (kicking and screaming) into the technological age. He was the one to set up my first e-mail account for me, he first connected me to the internet, and it was due to his urging that I got a mobile phone (although that only lasted for a couple of years before I gave the blasted thing up in disgust). His newest crusade however was to get me onto Skype and using the internet phone service there, thus the need for a headset.

He even went so far as to give me the money for it! It was only about thirty dollars, but he knew that if he did that, then I'd feel obliged to go out and buy it and I'd stop procrastinating. Clever little sod, isn't he! And it worked, I did the hike all the way out to the suburban shopping centre yesterday afternoon and came home again the proud new owner of a Logitech Internet Headset.

So I logged on last night, all bright eyed and shiny, set up my account, and connected my new headset. I even got my first call from Doofus. Well, who else would it be from, I don't know anyone else on the system. But it was still pretty exciting.

So I'm now able to make phone calls while I'm on the internet. I know that once I've changed over to broadband it won't be an issue, but it'll still be nice to be able to call overseas for about two or three dollars an hour. Comparing that to how much it used to cost to call K in Japan, it's amazing! And of course Skype to Skype calls are free, so you know I'll be encouraging everyone I know to sign up.

Cause it's all about me. Didn't you know?

**********

On more depressing news, I think I'm getting a cold. My throat is sore, my nose is stuffed and my head is full of cotton wool ... figuratively speaking of course.

I know it's just one of those things that happens at this time of year, but it sucks like a hoover anyway. I should be blaming all the people at work who've been sniffling and coughing all over the place for the past few weeks, but for some strange reason I feel the need to blame petrol prices. Force of habit, I guess...

A letter to Mel...

... Dear Mel,

Do you mind if I call you Mel? Mr Gibson just seems so formal. You don't know me but I'm a long time fan of your work. Loved you in Lethal Weapon, by the way. But I have to say I was appalled when I read the newspaper story about the "incident".

Sugartits? Seriously?

There are just so many different ways to describe the female mammary glands, why on earth would you choose an expresion that hasn't been used since the mid 1970's? Really, it says more about your originality and your imagination than anything else.

I'd like to suggest that the next time you find yourself in a situation like that, you try something a little more ... colourful. How about jubblies, or gazungas, or my personal favourite, ta-ta's. Add in the obligatory hooter-honk with corresponding sound effects if you really feel like classing it up. After all, might as well be hung for sheep as a lamb.

Yours sincerely,

Kelstar.

P.S. The anti-semitic stuff doesn't really fly with me either. Very uncool.

Skeletons in the football field...

... I had my second Historical Archaeology class of the semester, and I really think I'm going to like this one. The lecturer, Dr P, has that skill that so many of the others are lacking ... the ability to talk for two hours and not bore everyone to the edge of ritualistic suicide. Believe me, it's a skill that's sorely lacking in most of the old wowzers from the ancient history department.

Most of his lecture was about the excavation of Lang Park which he was in charge of. Anyone who lives in Brisbane will know about it (it was pretty big news at the time), but for the rest of you out-of-towners I'll explain. We have a sporting field here in Brisbane called Suncorp Stadium, but it used to be called Lang Park before they revamped and enlarged it. What most people didn't know though is that there used to be an old cemetery underneath the landfill that covered Lang Park. At least, most people didn't now until we had a really wet season and suddenly all the dead people started poking up out of the ground.

So when the work started for the redevelopment, they hired Dr P to put together a team and excavate the cemetery before they built over it again. It's pretty standard practice to do that if you're building somewhere that you know has a historical site underneath. So the first part of last night's lecture was the usual description of what they'd found, followed up by an open discussion comparing it to a couple of other Queensland archaeological sites.

One of the things that Dr P showed us though that caught my interest was the burial of one man, aged around 25-30 who they called "Mary". Apparently they thought it was a woman at first, but later on a specialist said it was a man just with an unusually large pelvis. What they found out about this guy though suggests that he was from a wealthy family. Good quality coffin (only rich people would have afforded it), teeth in good condition (was eating better than usual food), and he'd had some pretty serious injuries that he'd obviously recovered from (could afford medical attention).

Dr P suggested that if he was that well to do, it would be relatively easy to track down who he might be. If he was rich, he probably made the papers when he died. I've already contacted a friend in the Family History section of work to see if we keep newspapers from that period. I'd really like to put a name to the guy...

First three therapy sessions, absolutely free...

... That's what my work offered us. We had a meeting where a lovely lady came to tell us all about the free psychological councelling we were entitled to being government employees. According to the cheery deary, we are all allowed to have three free therapy sessions every calendar year. Yippee!!! Now I can afford all those extra neuroses I've been hankering for!

Joking aside, I really do think it's a great idea. It's nice to know the service is there, even if I never use it. Besides, going insane is such an expensive process these days. What with doctors bills, strait jackets, assylum fees and anti-depressants, it's nice to know that there's an alternate path to mental health. Okay, so maybe I didn't put the joking totally aside. Come on, free therapy? That's comedy gold!

We got to hear all about how we could make an appointment to talk about anything we liked, from work related disputes to family problems. We could also choose what sort of psychologist we wanted to talk to, male or female, young or old, enthusiastic or sympathetic. I couldn't help wondering if I could request a nice looking male, 25-35 years old, with a good sense of humour and a fondness for long walks in the rain. I figured if she could make it sound like picking someone out of the personals column of the newspaper, I could let my mind wander a little.

Through the entire meeting I sat at the back of the room with a friend and we passed notes back and forth. I felt like I was in school again. At one point in the note writing I asked "Do you think they'd give me the day off to go talk to her about my fear of work?" This prompted a spontanious and rather embarrassing laughing fit on both our parts. The withering glares from my supervisor, who was sitting in front of us, were enough to sober us down. Next time I think they're going to separate us...