#207: Supermarket Treasure Hunt
The other day, I did something I’ve always wanted to do: a sensory treasure hunt. This is a game I invented, that you play with a friend (or a lot of friends) in a large store.
Each team/individual finds five items. Each item is distinct in a way that links to one of the five senses – sight, taste, touch, hearing or smell. When you have your items, you meet the others and decie who wins (or, for bonus points, you buy all the items, swap them around, and have to invent a way to eat and/or use them in combination).
I found:
Sight – eggplant (those things are just weird)
Smell – whiteout
Taste – liquorice
Touch – a coconut
Sound – a pack of dried noodles in a cup.
My friend found:
Sight – kupie doll mayonnaise
Smell – soap
Then she got distracted and bought a pink grapefruit bacardi breezer. And a pack of passionfruit ones. Then she saw a rope tower playground and. . . well, you know the rest.
Publisher K just requested the rest of my realist novel (based on the beginning, which I sent them about a month ago). Cool. The email I just received wasn’t from my contact, which is interesting – although my connection to the contact was extremely tenuous (I saw her speak, but didn’t get to talk to her – I addressed my query letter and sample to her as per the website’s instructions).
And speaking of cool, here’s a pic of morning dress from 1901 (thank you Nick and wikimedia).
#206: Be Immature
Yes, yes I know: That title sums up so much of this blog.
However.
CJ and I and my friend and her partner walked to the shops one night and my friend decided that what my blog needed was to have us climb a ten foot high rope tower at a children’s playground. Despite wearing my usual ankle-length skirt and no shoes, I agreed. Her partner filmed as CJ watched – we didn’t actually know we were being filmed. The Brennan that we mention is five years old.
Yep, that’s attractive.
The boys then showed us how it was done (ie, with shoes and without squealing).
Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.
And, some steampunk pics:
How to Write Steampunk
So, you wanna write a steampunk tale? I recommend you start by researching Victorian times – my favourite book is “Victorian London” by Liza Picard. Her section on bathing is hilarious.
You can also go here, for some of the most beloved bits and bobs of steampunk compositions: http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1249132-SteamPunk-A-List-of-Themes
You can read Richard Harland’s “Worldshaker”, “Girl Genius” online comics, or anything by Philip Reeve (keeping in mind that “Larklight” is G-rated and hilarious, but his Mortal Engines series is MA). The genre is flexible enough that the Girl Genius creators and Philip Reeve both say they’re not steampunk. (Whatever. . .)
Here are some examples of people who dressed a little steampunk by accident (one is from a wedding, and the other a pirate ball). Note the vests and/or cravat.
Today’s awesomeness is S#47: Participate in Operation Beautiful. You can find details at operationbeautiful.com. I posted these notes on my mum’s bathroom mirror:
This time it’s super easy to play along at home. (Although I don’t recommend gentlemen readers post anything in ladies’ bathrooms.)
S#44: No-one at home (and steampunk outfits)
*I accidentally posted this a day early, so tomorrow I’ll post some writing tips*
For today’s awesomeness I changed my answering machine message to say, “Hello. You’ve reached Louise’s evil twin. Please leave a message, and any other information that might be helpful in my plan to take over her life, and then the world.”
Here are some more steampunk outfits – Nathan Filion as Castle utterly upstaging CJ and myself. Somehow, we don’t mind.
Nathan’s mechanical sleeve is an excellent example of technology that definitely didn’t exist in Victorian times – but it fits steampunk perfectly.
Steampunk Earth Day Launch
On Saturday 30 October, wherever you are in the world, it’s time to play along at home.
Steampunk (adjective):
Victorian-inspired alternate reality for fiction and fun.
How to join Steampunk Earth Day:
Spend an hour or a full day doing any selection of these options:
1. Turn off the lights.
2. Turn off the AC/heater.
3. Walk or bike instead of using a car.
4. Turn off the computer and/or internet and/or TV.
5. Get your steampunk on with long skirts, awesome boots, leather/metal in your clothes, mad scientist welding goggles or whatever seems steampunk to you.
Do something green – install a solar panel or water-saving showerhead or something.
If you like, you can sign up officially at http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=150654784970718
The rationale behind Steampunk Earth Day is that the Victorian era was where a lot of today’s pollution was born and raised and bred. Steampunk is all about taking the Victorian era and making it more fun – so why not take a day to be steampunk WITHOUT the pollution?
From clockworkcouture.com, some steampunk outfits to get your started:
I hope you like this month’s steampunk twittertale, “Zeppelin Jack and the Deadly Dueller” @Louise_Curtis_
#204: Sculpture Garden
Canberra’s National Gallery was built by orcs. It is designed to confuse and infuriate. Much as I generally like at least some of the art, I spend every visit to the National Gallery in a state of disoriented confusion due to the strange permutations of the building’s many and winding concrete corridors.
My favourite part of the gallery is outside – the sculpture garden, set amongst flourishing trees and shrubs and grass beside Lake Ginninderra. I wrote about it (for money! Yay!) here.
Today is the last day of September, so here’s your last “Killer Robot Cat” tale. I call it: “Peace in our time?” because Ana’s opiates made her so sleepy that (for once) she didn’t hassle Indah (the grey one, who is 13) and they were able, briefly, to get along. Yay for drugs.
Tomorrow, as the “Zeppelin Jack and the Deadly Dueller” twittertale begins, I’ll also be launching Steampunk Earth Day for Saturday October 30. It’s a lot like Earth Hour, but with more options and better outfits.
More data tomorrow!
#135: Bad Movie Night
Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear.
It was bad. I knew it would be bad and it was. But I didn’t know it would be THAT bad.
There are spoilers here, but don’t worry – you won’t care.
We kicked off the day with “Robot Monster”. I just went to check the release date (1953) and found this review on IMDB, which says it all:
“Robot Monster is the Citizen Kane of abysmal 1950s science fiction. It has everything modern viewers have come to expect from movies of this genre: a laughable plot line, completely improbable situations, ludicrous acting, unbelievably awful special effects, cheapjack production values, gaffes galore, and examples of how to fail miserably at every major aspect of motion picture production. For good measure it also sports easily the most ridiculous “monster” in the history of film! The plot is so thin that it can’t even be stretched comfortably over the film’s 66-minute running time without generous padding. A family, headed by the requisite German-accented scientist and including a “hot” chick, a “manly” guy, and two cutesy-poo kids wander through the desert after Earth has been annihilated by a guy in a gorilla suit wearing a plastic diving helmet.”
The film was so bad the director attempted suicide shortly after its release. The baddie is, quite literally, a man in a gorilla suit with a diving helmet. He is assisted by an incredibly ominous bubble machine. With this (presumed) weapon, he has already killed all but eight members of the human race. Later on, he strangles both of the cutesie-poo kids, throws the hot guy off a cliff, and attempts to romance the beautiful woman (which is actually sooooo creeepy).
Here are some quotes:
From ro-man’s boss, as he attempts to explain the “funny feeling” the hot chick gives him: “You sound like a hu-man, not a ro-man!”
From the hot guy to the hot girl (because they are having Relationship Difficulties – the type that gets resolved by Earth’s annihilation): “I’m bossy!? You’re so bossy you should be milked before you come home.”
When the hot girl wants to save the world by meeting ro-man for a date (shortly before her dad and boyfriend tie her up): “I know there’s some things good girls just don’t do, but. . .” (Side note: later, ro-man ties her up – presumably to make her feel at home on their date.)
From little miss cutesie-poo just before her death by strangulation (it’s worth noting that ro-man is VERY easy to outrun): “My daddy wouldn’t let you hurt me.” (Side note: Her daddy just (a) let her wander out of their impenetrable fortress (b) to deliver flowers to the young couple as they walk off the celebrate their honeymoon. . . alone, except for ro-man.)
At one stage, the young couple are a-wandering and ro-man appears (oh no!) Instead of both running away, the hot guy picks her up and runs away carrying her. Because good girls (apparently) don’t run. (Or walk quickly.)
After the hot girl is captured, the parents use their remaining child as bait (fyi, he dies). Meanwhile, ro-man attempts to date the hot girl while intercepting phone calls from his boss and the other humans (don’t you hate getting phone calls at innappropriate moments?)
Eventually his boss gets annoyed and releases dinosaurs (which pay no attention to any humans, but attack each other).
And then. . . ta da! It was all a dream!
OR WAS IT???????
The final shot is a shadowy ro-man emerging from his cave.
They liked that shot so much they played it three times – just in case someone missed it the first two times.
For our next film, we watched the 2008 film “Birdemic”.
Yep, that’s the title.
Yep, 2008.
Perhaps the most succinct summary of everything that’s wrong with this film is the tagline: “Why did the birds and eagles attacked?”
1. Birds are eagles.
2. The “attacked” tells us that sometimes, speaking English as a second language really DOESN’T mean that you’ll write the greatest screenplay ever.
3. This whole tagline is a question the filmmakers are begging us to answer after we have seen their opus. The answer (as you’ll pick up twenty or thirty times during the film) is, “Because humans freakin’ deserve it for not looking after our planet.” And perhaps we do deserve to have our throats artfully ripped out by extremely slow-moving cardboard eagles.
But we don’t deserve this film.
The one thing the tagline lacks is some indication of the acting skills demonstrated in the movie, the special effects, and the writer’s odd software engineer fantasy. Believe it or not, the acting is worse in “Birdemic” than in “Robot Monster”. And so are the special effects. I know, I know: you don’t believe me. But don’t worry – it’s all right here:
And guess what? There’s talk of a sequel.
You can’t imagine the pain of the experience of (a) The extremely long lead-up to the first attack, during which time a lot of space is given to software engineers making millions, dating models, and high-fiving one another. (b) The migraine-inducing electronic shriek of the attacking birds, which happens every few minutes for the rest of the film.
One of my friends insisted on watching it to the bitter end. Another was visibly about to turn violent. I had to prep some fondue, STAT.
Anyway, here’s today’s killer robot (in this case a panhandling robot) from geekologie.com:
#203: Midnight Rescue
Late last night, I walked into the bathroom to find Ana (the angelic evil cat of many blog pictures) sprawled on the tiles. That was nothing unusual – the odd thing was that she didn’t look up as I walked in.
I crouched down and patted her. Instead of her usual coy, “Prrm?” she mewed in pain. I’ve heard her meow in annoyance, fear, and distress (faked or otherwise) – but never like that.
CJ spotted blood matting her fur. We tried to figure out where it was coming from, but her long fur got in the way. She baulked at the attention and tried to get up and slip past us. One of her paws gave way, and she was too low to the ground to move quickly. We grabbed her as gently as possible and continued trying to see where the blood was coming from, or if any of her bones were broken. The slighest touch on her left side made her yelp.
She smelled bad. Something had terrified her so much she’d lost the contents of her bowels. Her weakened paw was stained black on top.
CJ stayed with her while I fetched the phone directory. I searched for the closest 24-hour vet while Ana lay back down with her head against the tiles. The tip of her tail twitched against the floor.
At last we found a vet and called them, describing Ana’s condition as well as we could. They told us to come over.
Normally when I take Ana somewhere I put her in a pillow case (she’s calmer when she’s contained, and can’t see how fast we’re moving). We didn’t want to move her unnecessarily, so I picked her up and CJ draped a towel over her, which I then tucked around her as well as I could.
As we took her outside and into the car, she struggled violently, burrowing through the towel, writhing, and kicking against me with her back legs. She poked her head out of the towel and that seemed to calm her, so I let her remain like that.
Recognising that I was too panicked to navigate, CJ memorised the route. As we drove, Ana barely moved. She didn’t meow at all. She looked at nothing in eerie silence, hanging her head like a rag doll.
When we went into the vet she alternated between blank staring, and burying her nose into the crook of my elbow for comfort. Every time someone spoke or a door opened or closed, she jumped in fear.
At last the vet called us in. We put Ana on the floor and watched as she crept to hide under the vet’s chair. Her walk was low and lopsided, and she wasn’t interested in her surroundings at all.
The vet shaved some of her tail and found a large gash. She checked for a broken leg, broken ribs, and internal injuries – and everything was limited to bruises and sprains. All four of Ana’s paws had raggedly broken claws, which is an indication of an instinct to grip the road when an animal is hit by a car.
The vet gave us some antibiotics, and an opiate for her pain – warning it “Might make her a little funny.”
We came home $400 lighter. Drugs are expensive, kids – especially at night.
Ana is jumpy (and sleepy) but otherwise okay. These photos are from just now:
Oh, and the coy “Prrm?” is back.
S#55: Make Music
Imagine the scene: You’re at school camp and have eaten the food, but you and your friends are all still at the table, nursing your orange cordials and wondering how best to mess with the teachers without leaving your chairs. Someone starts tapping out a rhythm on their upturned cup. They teach the person next to them, and so on. Eventually you have dozens of people pounding out a rhythm, passing cups all around the table.
I recreated this with some friends at my house (filmed from underneath the glass table). They described it as “strangely zen”. As you’ll probably observe during the video, there was minimal training involved. The reason I’m giggling is that the person next to me copped a cup in their lap and managed to continue.
It’s a 4-4 rhythm, and it goes something like this:
Start with a cup to your left, upside down. With your right hand, lift it (1) and place it (still upside down) in front of you (2). Hit a brief rhythm on the base (left right left – 3-and-4). Clap (1), pick it up (2) and place it (still upside down) on your right (3, and 4 is a pause). Clap (1), then grasp it sideways with your right hand (twisting your wrist so your thumb is close to the table on the near side of the cup – 2), hit the open end against your left palm (3), the bottom against the table (4), then place the bottom of the cup in your left hand – twisting your wrist a little, and switching hands (1), hit your right palm against the table to your left (2), and the upside down cup on your far right (3, and pause for four). Then repeat but using the cup that has just been placed at your left.
I definitely recommend playing along at home, but not with Mum’s best china (or her second-best glass for that matter – we used plastic cups).
And here, continuing “Killer Robot Cat” month, is my oh-so-sweet Ana killing a yellow smiley face*
*Training. . .
Coming soon: How to annoy your neighbour by accidentally making a diet coke and mentos rocket that shoots over a 2-storey building (DON’T try that at home!)
Bubbles! With your hands!
Sculpture Garden
Bad movie night (during which I thought some of my guests might turn violent – and I sympathised)
and, as always, more. . .
#202: Secret Date
Today I surprised CJ by taking him to see the Canberra Choral Society, who performed for free at the National Gallery (I told CJ we were busy at three, but not why).
Before video games, there was TV. Before TV, there was reading. Before reading, there was singing. Before singing, God was bored and had a cool idea he decided to call “the universe”.
It’s quite peculiar to think that I’m being entertained in much the same way as Adam and Eve may have entertained one another – and, since the Canberra Choral Society’s choirmaster loves African spirituals – on much the same topics.
Uh oh…guests just arrived. Seeya.
Felicity Banks 