S#89: Dinner and a movie
“Dinner and a movie” is basically my favourite date. For today’s awesomeness, I had to go by myself. Luckily, I’m a cheap date, and could take myself to the ANU Film Group to see “Fair Game”.
First, dinner. The Iron Chef in Mawson is as liberal as I am with sweetness and crispy oil. Also, they give you free honey sesame peanuts when you dine in.
I had boneless lemon chicken. It was a beautiful combination of crispy, sauce-laced skin and sweetly ordinary moist chicken. Much nom. On a Wednesday evening – the night before public service payday – it was fairly quiet, and the service was lightning fast (you can tell, because my peanuts are still there).
Happily sated, I went and saw an equally excellent movie. “Fair Game” (starring Naomi Watts and Sean Penn) is definitely an intellectual movie.
It’s about the CIA investigations into the possibility of nuclear weapons being produced in Iraq in the early 2000s. More importantly, it’s about how the overwhelming findings of the analysts (ie that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq) were ignored, and the USA government lied to its citizens and invaded a country that was no threat to their safety. It’s also about a CIA agent’s husband who wrote the truth (he’d been hired as an analyst himself, and had discovered that Iraq almost certainly had no uranium whatsoever) and threw it into the mainstream media. Finally, it’s about how the government then exposed his wife as a CIA agent, putting all her active projects in jeopardy including the innocent Iraqi scientists she had contacted in order to get the information that the government had ignored.
The story is incredibly compelling and the acting is top-notch. I recommend the film to anyone who doesn’t require movies to be silly. My one criticism is that the preview implied that most of the story was about the CIA agent Valerie Palmer’s personal life. Actually it was a more well-developed story of the entire conspiracy to invade Iraq (focusing on her personal investigations). Her personal life is vital, however, and was what made the movie great.
Conclusion: I’m okay company for a date, but I’d prefer eating and seeing movies with friends and/or CJ.
#295: Bubble Cat!
CJ and I, while attempting to play with Ana, inadvertently discovered a new and improved method for tormenting her.
Observe:
To be perfectly honest, we tried the older cat first. When a bubble popped against her paw, she freaked out and fled.
Fun for the whole family!
#294: Flex days
The public service in Australia (that is, government work) has a LOT of awesome things about it, but the best of all is FLEX. It means that as long as you do your seven and a half hours a day (or whatever – it varies in different departments) you can do extra work – an hour here, a few minutes there – and then take whole days off.
Which makes your wife happy.
Today (a SCHOOL DAY, gasp!) CJ and I went together to the second-hand bookshop that was closed yesterday, and we bought two books (which I would name and applaud, but I’m giving them to people for their upcoming birthdays). Also, we mooched about. Then after watching an episode of “Chuck” over lunch* we mooched some more.
*CJ made me lunch, which was very sweet. One tiny problem: the man is clearly addled from excessive mooching about. He interrupted my reading to ask what I wanted for lunch. I smiled, thanked him, and asked for peanut butter and jam.
He wandered off upstairs to do the deed. After putting jam on a slice of bread, he couldn’t remember what “the other thing” was. All he remembered was that it had something in common with his own peanut butter and honey sandwich.
And so it was that I had a jam and honey sandwich for lunch.
To which I say, “EW!”
Ambidextrous Unconscious?
A few nights ago I had a dream in which my wedding ring was on my right hand. I only noticed it was odd because when I woke up and later glanced at my right hand I was momentarily startled to see no ring there.
Does our unconscious flip us into a mirror image of ourselves in our dreams? What does this mean. . . for SCIENCE?
#293: Second-hand bookshop
It is simply astonishing that there’s less than a month of my 365 Daily Awesomenesses left to go, and I’ve never thought of this. Friend to poverty-stricken booklovers everywhere, it’s our home away from home: the second-hand bookshop.
Unfortunately, this one isn’t open on Mondays.
This is Busy Bees in Mawson, for those who now want to shop there.
I was limited to literal window-shopping – which is one way to stay within one’s budget.
Mmm. . . boooookkkksss.
I’m going to go back tomorrow 🙂
S#79: Karaoke
Too embarrassed to write much. Suffice to say:
1) Yes, I prepared by drinking.
2) No, I don’t know the guardian angel beside me (although her mother was also there, and they both sang).
3) I’m so, so sorry.
4) It could have been worse. So screw #3: I’m not sorry at all.
I will admit it was strangely enjoyable.
PS For those following the twittertales, “Minion Number Two” begins on March 4. It’s a tale of intrigue, ambition, and how to train your kangaroo to infiltrate an evil lair.
#292: National Museum
One of the great things about living in the national capital is that it’s so easy to go to the “national” version of everything – national library, national botanic gardens, and the national museum.
On the not unreasonable assumption that there’d be something on 1850s Australia, CJ and I went to the National Museum today. I wrote about it at weekend notes.
And we saw a replica bark and iron hut built inside the museum:
In case you’re wondering, it smells like tree.
Think it’s embarrassing to sniff museum exhibits? Think again.
Tomorrow’s entry is the infamous KARAOKE OF LOUISENESS!
Flee! Flee for your dignity!
#291: Mars Bar Slice
Right now I’m what my friends call “off the wagon”. It’s a chocolate thing. . .
Today’s awesomeness is a slice that makes even me think, “Wow, that’s a lotta lard there.” According to archaelogical digs on the subject, the Mars Bar Slice was the result of Greek philosophers asking the eternal question, “How can mankind make the Mars bar less healthy?”
My sister-in-law introduced me to it, and I returned the favour by making some for her (and by “for her” I mean that I took it with me to visit her, but ate most of it myself).
Ingredients
3 x 65 g Mars Bars, chopped
90 g butter
3 cups Rice Bubbles
250 g milk chocolate
Method
- Grease a slice tray (with butter, not oil).
- Combine loosely-chopped Mars Bars and butter in a saucepan.
- Stir constantly over low heat, without boiling, until the mixture is mostly smooth. The remaining lumps will be absorbed, never fear.
4. Stir in Rice Bubbles and press mixture evenly into greased tray.
5. Melt the 250g of chocolate over hot water and stir constantly until smooth.
6. Spread the chocolate evenly over the slice mixture and refrigerate until topping is set. (Or freeze it for half an hour, then refridgerate.)
7. Cut into squares.
6. Eat far too many. Get so hopped up on butter and chocolate you make another batch the next day.
7. Die of heart failure, thus eliminating the need to post that karaoke video this Sunday.
#290: Chinese Massage
It really is a sign of the times when a person gets stressed because they’re late for their massage. (It’s also a sign the person in question is an idiot.)
I’m a sucker for massages. If a creepy guy approached me in an alley and offered a massage, I’m pretty sure I’d accept. So yesterday I went and had my first Chinese massage.
There are a lot of shops where staff talk amongst themselves in another language while serving English-speaking customers, and this was no exception. I’m pleased to share with the world that I know enough Mandarin to know they most certainly weren’t talking about me. (You’re welcome, paranoid monoglots. Customers just aren’t an interesting topic of conversation.)
They were surprisingly discreet – letting me take my top off and lie down, and then placing a cloth over me as well. That suited me fine. One of my favourite things about doctors and masseurs (and the artist Spencer Tunick) is that in their eyes the human body isn’t good, or bad, or sexy. It’s just a workspace or a piece of meat or clay. It’s oddly liberating to be seen in that way. My masseur used my bum as a handle more than once, and it just made me more relaxed. (Dear internet: This does not apply to the real world.)
It hurt a LOT. Chinese culture isn’t known for being a soft-hearted namby-pamby new-age love fest. For a little while I thought she’d snap my neck tendons like aged guitar strings. Then it was all nice and relaxing. Then I thought she was sanding my muscles off against my shoulder blades.
Eventually she gave me a vigorous pummel and let me go. I sat up a little hesitantly, and discovered that all my movements were smoother and better than before.
Nice work, lady.
PS For something even more terrifying than a little lady who can extract kidneys one-handed, tune into the blog this Sunday. The karaoke has occurred, and there’s an extremely embarrassing video.
#289: Honeycomb
Gotta love the modern world. We use a centrifuge to make sure absolutely no wax gets into consumers’ honey – but whenever anyone of any age sees actual unpurified honeycomb, they go “ooh!” and instantly want some.
I know I did.
If you’re wondering why I posted super late today, it’s because I just completed 24hrs # 5 of steffmetal.com’s #32: Break from Technology.
And now I’m going to watch TV – stat!
