Indian mynas: what a pest. Picture from here.
It’s been a little bit quiet here since I got back from my holiday. But I’ve been working on some big stuff, so bear with me. Until then, here are some reviews of other stuff (i.e. not books).
Being so confounded by the early morning start to realise that one of my hosts yesterday, when I did a book review on Breakfasters, was none other than Dave Lawson of the tighty-whities: Stupid, but not surprising. I’m not a morning person.
‘The Sock Shop’ polka-dot tights: I wear tights a lot. Most Melbourne girls do, even in summer. I think we have a Zooey Deschanel complex. So, polka-dot tights = good. But The Sock Shop tights = bad. Baggy at the knees after two washes, and I take fairly good care of my tights. I wash them in nice detergent. I wash them in cold water, because water that’s hotter than thirty degrees ruins the elastic. Sometimes I even handwash them, for the love of lycra. But no amount of coddling can make this crap vestment a good investment.
‘Razzamatazz’ vintage lilac pantihose: Contains almost the whole of the word ‘panties’, which is my least favourite word in the world, partly because it represents the convergence of two vastly different vocabularies: that of nice old ladies and that of gross old dudes. In addition to that, tore at the big toe after one wear. Verdict: bad, but it’s okay because they were a dollar.
The word ‘sesquipedalian’: For use only by people who are ‘smug’ and ‘annoying’.
Joanna Newsom anticipation: I don’t give a crap if you think that liking Joanna Newsom means I would like to be friends with a squirrel. In fact, I would love to be friends with a squirrel. Have you seen Snow White? Anyway, my animal friends and I are going to eat some pizza and then go freak out about harp music tonight. Verdict: I’m long-toothed, but with excitement.
Having a cold: Sucks.
Cheekbones of the girl on my tram today: Impressive, tapering.
‘Lucky’ Fruit & Nut Mix – Nuts, Seeds & Cranberries: Invaluable for feeding my squirrel friends (and me).
Soy chai at Laurent: Worst beverage partaken of since I inadvisedly ordered orange juice at our crappy hotel in Mirissa. Also came with an overweight indian myna (or was it a pigeon?) fluffing around in the leftovers of the frangipane tart on the table next to us. Verdict: Soy BYE, more like it.
First 300 pages of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Makes it rather difficult to pay attention to the traffic these last couple of days. I was supposed to go to bed early to nurse myself through my cold, but ended up just reading a massive chunk of this thing. I regret only borrowing one of the three books from Maddie. These books are like heroin, only cheaper and less life-destroying.
My fringe: A board of critics composed solely of Dulux dogs agree that it is the exact correct length for good aesthetics but poor vision.
Johnny Depp handbag I saw on a lady a Parliament Station: An inexplicably literal way to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve, no?