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Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Just when I thought I'd seen it all, from shabby chicks to shabby chic, along came the Shabby Sheik:


A rustic, shabby sheik timber cabinet.  What is a shabby sheik?  What decorating movement does it represent?  Broken tiles?  Ornate but mud covered mosaics?  Or perhaps the seller was someone mysterious but well known...


I love the shabby sheik movement, I intend to decorate exclusively in this style.

And, to follow the immortal words of the man himself,

You are what you is
And you is a bad speller


Monday, October 24, 2011


Have you ever wondered about the difference between caffe latte and cappuccino? Many don't know the difference, including the people who serve them.

Let's start with cappuccino. Cappuccino comes from the Capuchin friars - some say it refers to the colour of their robes, others say it refers to the friars' distinctive hairdo - bald in the middle and hair ringed around the head like a headband. Whatever the reason, we have the wonderful caffeinated beverage, coffee, steamed milk, and a large head of foam topped with a ring or a pattern of cinnamon, cocoa or chocolate sprinkles.

Latte, or caffe latte means "coffee and milk". So, unsurprisingly, the drink consists of coffee and a boatload of milk. This is often served in a glass with a napkin wrap to stop you burning your fingers. It is more similar to a flat white than a cappuccino, only the caffe latte contains more milk. According to Wikipedia, the drink was popularised in Seattle in the 1980s and is still hugely popular today.

Which brings me to my daily battle with take away coffees. I love to drink a take away cappuccino, lift off the lid and lick off the foam and chocolate from the inside. Perhaps not the daintiest look, but that's how I do it.  Only a cappuccino can provide this experience, so I order a cappuccino every time I get a coffee.

For some reason, my saying "Cappuccino" sounds distinctly like "Caffe Latte" to the person behind the counter.  I walk out only to find that I have a milky coffee and no foam, no sprinkles, no fun.   Apparently the rise of caffe latte in Seattle was so powerful, that nobody believes you anymore when you ask for a cappuccino.  They think "poor thing, she's obviously not keeping up with the times.  I'll do her a favour and make her a latte so she won't be excruciatingly embarrassed."

I would like to release an open letter to my particular local cafe, however this can apply to cafes around the world:

Dear "Barista",
You are actually Italian, so you should know better than to confuse a cappuccino with a caffe latte.  I know it's hard for you and that I am the only person since 1989 to ask for a cappuccino since everyone is sooo hip to the latte thing, but I-don't-care.  I want my daggy outmoded cappuccino, I want it brimming with foam and chocolate sprinkles.  Kindly make mine frothy, I don't want a hot milk with a dash of coffee in it, I don't care if Kate Moss is doing it.


sincerely,
Proud (if not fashionably challenged) cappuccino drinker



Wednesday, August 31, 2011

I seem to be a target for spam lately.  Yesterday I got a text message from a ridiculously long phone number reading:
@===@
)"EID" )
/ "Mub /
(arik" (
@===@
I think that @ and = thing is supposed to be a scroll.

It reads:

"May Allah bless U and your family!"


Well that's nice. Couple of points though,

1. I'm not a Muslim, or in fact religious in any way shape or form
2. I'm not rabid enough to text back "die godless A-rab" either

So whatever they were hoping for - ie. "Thank you brother, may Allah bless you as well" or "I will find out where you live and git you just like Osama", they ain't gonna get it from me.

Another couple of points. They can't spell Eid Mubarak properly but they did send it at the right time, as Ramadan has just ended. A little bit of research goes a long way.  I'm guessing it's just a run of the mill spam thing, but I can see some people receiving it happily, and sending back "Eid Mubarak blessings to you too.  Just one thing, who are you and how did you get my number?" or freaking out completely and throwing the phone over the ranch fence and running in the general direction of Alaska.

My next spam adventure happened this morning when I received a totally official looking (*insert sarcasm here*) email from Mr Ambrose Wekkinbeck. Well, with a name like that I can't help but be reassured of its authenticity. It just sounds like the kind of name you can trust. Not made up at all.

Here is an excerpt of this earnest letter written by good natured people who just want to get my "missing funds" to me so they can sleep at night, knowing they have done the world a great service.

"Due to this lost of Funds of your's which was suppose to be given to you but failed to."

When I studied grammar at primary school, high school and university, not once did I dare consider indulging in any number of these cardinal sins. This person deserves to be tied up in a small room with an audio recording of "Introduction to The Grammar of English" for desecrating a poor defenseless sentence.

Apparently, the object of the exercise is to fleece people out of anything between $180 and $396 to cover "shipping fees" for an ATM card. That's one heavy ATM card. If anyone is stupid enough to pay an exorbitant shipping fee to an illiterate stranger with a made up name, they really can't blame anyone else when their accounts get drained. I guess you could call it a stupidity test.

That said, I feel quite sure there is a special circle of hell reserved for spammers and identity thieves. And I'm not even religious.

They end the last part of the email with "Thanks and God bless you and your family."

Spooky eh?

So, in the interests of reciprocating this earnest outreach of human goodness, here is my response (posted here only, not emailed!):

Deer Mistir Ambrowse Wekkinbecc,

!Git Stuff'd.

yorz sincerelly,
LjPPPPPP













Tuesday, August 09, 2011


In the 1980s the parent group PMRC (Parents Music Resource Centre) formed from the "Wives of Washington", tried to ban songs containing 'obscene' lyrics, targeting Twisted Sister along with 15 other bands they dubbed "The Filthy Fifteen".  These parent groups (one of which included Tipper Gore) attempted to use the courts to censor rock music into oblivion.  Had they won the case, the PMRC would have chosen which music is appropriate and not appropriate based on their own particular values.  As a result of these hearings, the "parental advisory" stickers were born.

Note:  Dee Snyder says one swear word in this documentary.  I'm sure you've all heard it before but if you don't want to hear it, don't watch it!






The Glee Project doing "We're Not Going to Take It" by Twisted Sister.
This is not particularly appropriate as music for an "Idol" style reality TV show considering the history and the subject matter of the song.

This song was written to take a stand against the establishment, against narrow minded people and against unfair censorship.  It's a song about Rock N' Roll, freedom of speech and the right to choose your own destiny. 

Glee on the other hand is paint-by-numbers, establishment-endorsed karaoke, not Rock N' Roll.
And no, pretending to break a plastic guitar doesn't count. 

The fundamental problem with this picture is that PMRC would probably have endorsed Glee and its inoffensive, sanitised "Musical Theatre" show.

People on you tube have said that this Glee Project clip "Rocks".  They wouldn't know Rock music if they tripped over it.   


Here is the link to the actual song, performed as nature intended:
We're Not Going To Take It - Twisted Sister





Wednesday, November 25, 2009










The news has been reporting a number of assaults and robberies at Melbourne train stations - particularly those located on the Frankston/Pakenham/Werribee/Cranbourne lines, plus the city stations. I have observed an interesting (and I think effective) way of driving away the criminal element that seems to be having an effect on gangs of teenagers who like to hang out at train stations.  

I witnessed it first at Glen Waverley station - it's quite simple:

The most hideous musak you have ever heard in your entire life blasted through the loudspeakers. No loitering groups seem to want to listen to the latest musak version of "Tie A Yellow Ribbon" for the tenth time in a row.

Now this is no laughing matter, train stations have become quite dangerous of late and there seems to be a lack of ideas on how to protect the innocent people who just need to catch a train.

The muck-up antics of hundreds of kids were not deterred by this musak onslaught. Probably because the din from hundreds of excited year 12s would drown anything out, even "Reggie Dixon's Tango Treats".

This is a tactic that can be applied at other high risk stations to basically drive people away using the power of uncoolness. This doesn't solve the problem, it's only part of the solution.
Other measures could include extra bright lighting at all stations (not just "premium" stations), effective CCTV coverage. CCTV coverage is no good if there is nobody around to help those in danger. CCTV captures video bytes for the news - the important part is deploying the police, using station masters, ticket inspectors and various other security personnel. These tactics could be used in the loop and inner-city stations to usher people in and out of the city quickly.

The idea of blasting musak acts as a kind of repellant dog whistle to those who would not wish to be associated with "Blame it on the Bossa Nova" or any other other related songs. I noted that Taylor Dane seems to drive people away, and I have observed Anastacia to work just as well. The people at Connex have clearly done their homework because they never seem to play anything like The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac or any other artists likely to be appreciated by all.

I suggest Connex implements this policy throughout other stations in Melbourne, along with the vitally important policing and monitoring measures to ensure that crime at Melbourne train stations is kept to a minimum.



Thursday, November 05, 2009

Far be it from me to comment on the fashion faux pas of the Spring Racing Carnival brigade. Me, the fashion goddess of the cardigan, corduroys and Docs. Perhaps it's that I don't really fancy too many florals, fluffy and hairy headpieces and feathers that get stuck in your mouth while you're trying to cheer for a horse that is clearly coming second last. There are however some mistakes that have been brought to my attention as an observer of Spring Carnival fashion.















Mistake #1. Not wearing comfy shoes

You will most likely be walking from the bar, to the bookie, and back to the track itself - and don't forget the train ride home. You'll be surprised as to how many kilometres you can cover in the space of a day. For goodness sake, wear comfortable footwear. Otherwise you will regret it!!

















Mistake #2. Drinking too much

The first drink of the day can be as early as breakfast. For some reason (and I don't know if this is exclusively an Australian trait or if its the rest of the world as well) - we seem to think that we are somehow immune to the effects of alcohol because it's a public holiday. So it doesn't seem so irrational to drink 2 champagnes for breakfast, 3 at lunch and then 2 more in the afternoon. Then we wonder why the ground is suddenly uneven and there are twice as many horses on the field as before.
You could begin the day looking like like Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's". If you're not careful, by the end of the day and 7 champagnes later you could look more like this:













The idea is to pace yourself. If you do have a champagne breakfast, drink soda water for a bit. And make sure you eat something. "But my dress is too tight!!" I hear you say. Well, wear something more comfy. Your dress will still be too tight if you're passed out under a tree with a busted side seam and no hat.















Mistake #3. Forgetting the sunscreen

Sun protection costs next to nothing. A cheap, broad spectrum sunscreen and a hat. Protect your skin as you will be out for many hours in the sun. Even on a cloudy day, you will be surprised at how quickly sunburn can occur. Sunscreen is your friend, and the only protector between your skin and the harsh Australian sun. No matter what you are wearing, sunburn clashes!!





Mistake #4. Neeiggghh!!

Sometimes these fashions can be reminiscent of the horses themselves. Gaudy colours, shaggy manes, strong hindquarters and shaky footwear. The key is to be comfortable and dress to compliment your individual style.



















Mistake #5. Dignity Blowout

This can come under a number of headings and this goes for males and females of all ages. For example, too many champagnes can land one in the "Dignity Blowout" category. This can result in falling asleep on the train with your fascinator feathers in your mouth, passing out in the sun and waking up with second degree sunburn, throwing up in the bin can also be a bit of a dignity blowout. You may think this is gross, but I have witnessed all these things while visiting the races (and no, it wasn't me!!) One of the worst cases I witnessed was a girl dressed up in racing gear being carried out of a pub by the paramedics after she passed out in a corner and could not be roused. This is not how you want to remember your day at the races.











My experience of the Melbourne Cup this year was the same as previous years - I put a bet on the favourite "Viewed", which failed to come through with the goods. I put a bet on "Leica Ding" as well, mainly because the name was ridiculous and horses with ridiculous names often win. (Eg. "Makybe Diva") Needless to say, my horse is still running.





Friday, August 28, 2009














At this time in Australia and New Zealand, labelling palm oil on food products is not a requirement. It will appear on labels as "vegetable oil" in food items and Elaeis guineensis in cosmetic items.

The problem with palm oil is that forests are being destroyed to make way for palm plantations. This practice destroys the natural habitat of the endangered Orang-utan.

Please watch the video and sign the Zoos Victoria petition calling for palm oil labelling to be included in the nutritional information chart on food products.


Don't Palm Us Off from Zoos Victoria on Vimeo.


How to identify palm oil in products: Shopping Guide

Resources and more information on palm oil:






Monday, August 03, 2009















What is it with womens' clothing sizes? I watched "The Devil Wears Prada" last night, an enjoyable film that pokes fun at the fashion industry. Despite the obvious satire, I was still appalled at the main character being ridiculed for her "large" dress size. The "offending" size was 6. As far as I can tell, the Australian equivalent to a 6 is a 10 or perhaps an 8. The average size of a model in Australia is size 8-10. They are often 5' 8" to 6' however there is no way on God's Green Earth that a size 10 or a size 8 is "big". Not even a little bit. Unless perhaps you are three foot nothing.

Later on in the film the main character is applauded for her "weight" loss to a size 4. She was small at the beginning of the film. The man who applauded her weight loss was not slim, nor did he have any hair of note. Again, the film uncovers rather than celebrates this obvious double standard, but it does make me wonder when things are going to change.

This begs the question: Why is it that women are applauded for getting smaller? The sizes in the US are insane. In Australia, sizes 0 and 00 are the sizes you buy for your newborn baby. In the US, these are the sizes that women must aspire to for their adult lives. It makes no sense. Are we to be the incredible shrinking women? Will we get approval only when we resemble little girls? Or is the size 0 more sinister, indicating that women will get the ultimate approval when they disappear altogether?























Monday, April 20, 2009

Of all the dopey things to turn up in my inbox this morning.









Note to spammers:




1. I don't speak... er - that language.

2. I know when strange banks send me strange messages in strange languages, they're really reaching.

3. Ain't gonna be singur clicken anything, thanks Mr Intelegere. Or should I call you Pentru?

4. And flubbidy flubbity to you to. Don't wanna se va face round here no more.



Special note: Congratulations to the winner of the Macy's competition, drawn using a clever random picker - I have contacted the winner by email. I will announce the winner on my site only if s/he wishes to be identified.


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Monday, January 19, 2009

And now, from the people who brought you Paris Hilton and the mankini, please welcome... Bikijeans! Or Bikini Jeans Or "Avert thine eyes because you are about to be frightened severely" These jeans were actually invented by a Japanese company that obviously thought the tacky g-string showing-over-the-low-rise abomination wasn't enough. Let's be honest here. I don't care if you're Elle Macpherson, if you wear these jeans it's going to be hideous. And here's food for thought...try sitting down in them. This would of course, introduce a new aspect to the Bikijean - the added bonus of a butt crack! This just keeps getting better and better. These jeans should come with various warnings such as: "please refrain from sneezing" "avoid any seating areas with backless chairs" "do not eat while wearing these jeans" "avoid stores with metal racks and sharp objects or you might find yourself caught in a rather embarrassing bind" Old ladies beware - you are going to get a whole lot grumpier. Actually, I'm beginning to agree with them. I am a grumpy young woman and proud of it! Now, to continue my grump... This picture above shows a very skinny model in these jeans. It doesn't show her walking, because that would be quite difficult unless you have recently had a Brazilian or don't mind flashing the 'ole sidewinders. What you see in the photograph is a myth. When you go down to the local fish and chip shop or milk bar you are almost guaranteed to be confronted daily by a Kath & Kim style frightmare. This will not end prettily. ...and you know it won't stop there. I shudder to even ask the question "what's next?" Apparently these jeans are marketed for an exclusive audience - the "very thin". Hmmm, you know what? I think someone's got a thing about seeing girls' bits. It took a bit of digging but I think I'm on to it now... Seriously, the Bikijean. Yes or No?

Thursday, November 27, 2008

It's that time of year again. The standouts from Choice Magazine Shonky Awards are as follows: 

Airobe Body Dryer It's basically a huge hairdryer for your body. It also seems to claim that it's environmentally friendly due to no longer needing to launder towels. Excuse me but when I have a shower I don't like to parade around without a towel with decent coverage. Must be my little quirk. For those of you who like to dance around in the nud in front of a huge hairdryer I have only one thing to say to you: You're weird, pal. 

Coles Steam Iron The purpose of an iron as I understand it is to smooth out creases in your clothing, giving you that "just laundered" look. The Coles steam iron, according to the results of Choice testing, sticks to clothes, increases creases (snigger!), and makes a big ol' steamy, watery, burny mess. If I wanted to do that to my clothes I would hang out in a steel foundry.

  Premium Mobile Services Industry

I'm not sure if anyone has heard about that guy who downloaded one episode of Prison Break and a few songs overseas and ran up a bill for around 35,000 pounds (see story here). This is a good example of how much these companies can charge for what is essentially useless content. I mean I have a phone, it rings numbers and sends texts. I don't need Kanye West's latest song as my ringtone, I don't need phone bling and I'd feel a little silly with a Harry Potter theme for my menu. I ask you, who really wants to watch an episode of Prison Break that much? And who wants to sit through the latest episode of Lost on a tiny phone screen? Here's an idea: record it, get your friends to record it, buy the DVD box set! Surely it will cost a lot less than 35,000 pounds. And parents can guard against their teenagers doing such dastardly things like downloading hotBabes4U by only allowing them to have a prepaid phone and recharging in small amounts. The recurring charges on a post-paid account can be devastating to all involved. And shame on these evil wrongdoers by targeting a naive audience and making it almost impossible to unsubscribe. 

Glaceau Vitamin Water I am also a victim of this shonkiness. I have many times consumed this concoction, erroneously believing it to be providing me with some kind of health benefit. Now, through these awards I have discovered I have been consuming a third of the daily sugar requirement for an adult female. AND I've often been consuming one of these before my 1-2k walks. Talk about a false economy! I don't even have sugar in my dandelion coffee! Argh! I also discovered that these drinks contain less than 1% fruit juice and are packed with artificial colouring. Yet another product to drop from my list. *sigh* Thanks to Choice for exposing the shonkiness infiltrating our consumer goods. Keep up the good work!


 


 
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Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Recently I wrote about Freebies4Webmasters. I signed up, submitted 3 web pages for ad placement and gained approval. I was paid 10 pounds (around $20) after the first month and my blog post resulted in 10 referrals.

Then the problems started. My approved referrals should have earned me 100 pounds so far. Instead, my approved web pages mysteriously disappeared from the system around the time Freebies4Webmasters decided they were not accepting any new publishers.

I have been patient and tolerant up to this point but after 5 unanswered emails I am sensing a stone wall of scamminess.

I will keep the ads up for one more week, on the off chance I receive a reply. Kind of like Waiting for Godot. If I don't receive a response by then it will be bye bye Freebies4Webmasters. I feel quite cheated as I know many have received payments larger than the ones owed to me at this time. The exchange rate would have approximated to $233 plus around $10 per month as an automatic payment. Not happy. Needless to say I will not be recommending this site to fellow bloggers.

:-(



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Monday, November 10, 2008

I received a rather amusing email this morning - for a brief moment I thought it was for real. It is not unusual for me to get direct emails for various projects. However further reading exposed the extent of my wrongness:


I have a project I want you to run with us. It involves exportation of 100,000 barrels of crude oil daily from Kirkuk, Iraq.

If you are interested, email me.

Mr. Yan.


Hmm. Well thank you, Mr Yan, I appreciate your offer. As a humble blogger however, I do not happen to have room for 100,000 lazy barrels of crude oil in my garden shed. In fact, last time I checked I did not have room for a single barrel.

Why you would be still hoarding such a valuable resource is beyond me. You could have exported when oil prices were at their peak. I'm sorry, Mr Yan, you missed your chance. If you will just check the latest figures, the current price for oil is $61.04. What you should have done is tapped into your seemingly unlimited oil reserve in March 2008. $150 per barrel! Ah, the tragedy of hindsight.

Exporting from where? Iraq, you say. Gee, let me think...

Much as I would like to travel to a volatile region during wartime on the basis of a spam email, I think I'll pass. Thank you so much for your kind offer, not that I will respond because you are probably camping out in some evil hovel wherever on earth it is that spammers like to slither. But I can't help being a little disappointed. All my dreams of becoming an oil baroness. My backyard oil refinery will have to wait. *sigh*











Thus endeth my exploits at international business.



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Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Have you noticed that you can buy, say, 5 pairs of jeans - all of a certain size and when you try them on you find that a size 10 or a size 12 (Australian size) is not the same from one item to another? For example, I have purchased 3 new pairs of jeans:

The first pair is the perfect size, the jeans fit easily and comfortably.

The second is just big enough to get over my knees - perhaps.

And the third pair - well, I could go camping in them. Campfire and all. They are taller than me and many times bigger. Perhaps I could fit into one leg, I may try that - it could start an interesting trend. Or perhaps not.

The point is, they are all marked the same size. And I've checked that they weren't children's sizes or doll sizes or anything like that. So, this begs the question - shouldn't there be some sort of regulating body for the use of clothing sizes?

Otherwise people could get depressed by buying small versions of the next size up, not knowing that their actual size is the same and the clothing manufacturer has gotten a little creative.

Conversely, you could give yourself a confidence boost by buying a larger version of the next size down. Ooh, look, I dropped a size and I didn't even do anything! Again, this is false advertising - the person will remain the same size, they will now just happily leave the jeans lying around so people can see the size on the tag.

There needs to be some universal governing body that regulates clothing sizes. I have tried on a Korean made dress only to suffocate dramatically like a heroine in an old horror movie. Yes, I understand I am tall and perhaps the target market for this dress was short but there should be warnings on the label.

So, with my new found knowledge, I shall be referring to tape measurements only when I buy clothing to avoid any unfortunate mishaps in the future.




Wednesday, July 23, 2008

I had the misfortune of being hungry at a well known Melbourne railway station yesterday. I had travelled for a long distance and felt ravenous from the journey.

I had even decided to go for the closest approximation of food I could find - namely Hungry Jacks (Burger King in the US). I eat at fast food restaurants perhaps once a year - if I absolutely can't avoid it.

This time there was no turning back. My hunger pains were leading me in the direction of HJs and there was no stopping me. My partner was starving also and we had already worked out our order.

I spoke to the bespeckled and bepimpled character behind the counter, who I shall refer to as "P".

Me: "I'll have a vegie burger small meal deal with one extra vegie burger."

P: "Okay... is that medium or large meal deal?"

Me: "A small. With one extra vegie burger."

P: "Anything else?"

Me: "Yes, I'd like another vegie burger and a large onion rings."

P: "So that's two vegie burgers..."

Me: "No it's three vegie burgers altogether." (I run through the entire order again)

P: "Okay, so that's two vegie burgers...did you want coke?"

Me: "No, three vegie burgers. Yes, coke is fine."

P: "Okay, two vegie burgers and a coke."

Me: "Three vegie burgers. Three altogether."

P: "Two vegie burgers..." (she is getting annoyed now)

Me: "Three."

P: "Yeah. That's what I said!" (hands on hips and glaring at me)

Me: ?!?!?!?


Meanwhile the lady behind me (who shall be known as "K") was declaring very loudly that this restaurant should be condemned by the board of health.

"It's filthy!" she argued with the same bespeckled 16 year old genius who had served me.

The 16 year old was indignant.

P: "Well we have been very busy."

K: "That's not the point. It's a health hazard out there. Somebody needs to clean it up. Can I speak to your manager."

The manager came out, sporting perhaps a whole extra year on "P" and a few less pimples. She sent out someone to "clean up" which consisted of walking around the area once and finally moving one high chair two inches. The floor was still littered with wrappers, bits of pickle, all sorts of hideous things. The seats outside were so bad that my partner and I opted for the comfy spot near the doorway where everybody coming in can crash into your suitcases.

We finally got our food and sat down awkwardly. Taking a bite, we both looked up at each other and sighed.

The burgers were cold. Not just a bit cold but stone cold.

I got up, gathering the burgers and trudged back to the counter. By now my hunger was a raging fever and all that was standing between me and some food was "P".

Me: These burgers are cold. Could you possibly make us some hot ones?

P: (stares sullenly at me, grabs burgers, disposes of the burgers, mutters and has a private conversation with a weird looking guy)

This weird looking guy eyeballs me. I give him an inquisitive look as if to say "yes, I'm the one fussy person that expects 'flame grilled' Hungry Jacks burgers to be hot. Since flames are hot and all that."

I watch as this strange and suspicious person goes back into the kitchen (which I hoped was not as disgusting as the "restaurant" itself) and grabs some ingredients.

He assembles the ingredients. I watched him to make sure he didn't sully the burger out of spite. So far so good. It's a new burger. Things are looking up.

Then he lifts the burger up and puts it straight in the microwave. My heart and my shoulders sank. What did I expect exactly? A real flame grill? Any sort of attention to food preparation whatsoever?

The burgers WERE hot. Straight out of the microwave.

Except mine. A small quadrant of the burger was still stone cold.

Perhaps they should get their flame grilled microwave fixed.








Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Has this ever happened to you? You're about to sit down to dinner or settle in to watch a TV program and the phone rings. But it's not friends or family. It's one of THOSE calls. The faceless, survey taking, dinner interrupting sources of constant annoyance. Sometimes you wish you could find out who they are. You're left asking Who Called Me? But there is no answer.

You may have even gone to the trouble to put yourself on a No Call List. Still, some callers persist and you can't find them. Some people receive prank calls, which can be disturbing. Especially if they are invisible, anonymous. You have no recourse. Or do you?

Wouldn't it be great if you could strengthen your privacy against these calls? "Who Just Called Here" has a reverse phone lookup service, which is especially useful for businesses that can't afford to miss one call from a client. As a further measure, it also offers privacy protection to block your private details from data collection services.


This post brought to you by WhoJustCalledHere?



Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Okay, maybe that's overstating it a bit. I have been waiting over 15 days for my unlock code from Telstra. I paid them up front, as I mentioned in my previous posts on this subject:

Telstra Must Die and Telstra: Overofficious and Not Very Efficient

These posts detail my long waits on hold, the clueless manner in which I was passed around from operator to operator, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

Well strike me lucky if I wasn't blown off my feet by this one.

"Hello Telstra, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm calling to find out my unlock code. I spoke to (employee number, name) and he hasn't called me back with the code. It was supposed to be 3-4 working days but it has been 15."

(friendly, nice voice)"Okay, I'll just put you on hold."

This was promising. She sounded nice. But I'm on hold again.

"Hi, sorry about the wait. Here's your code, do you have a pen?"

(stunned silence)

"Hello?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry go ahead."

"Okay, your code is *#number number etc"

"I'll just try it now."

(punches in code)

*sproing!* goes the phone. It is unlocked.

"That's amazing! Thanks!"

"No problem, you have a nice day."

I sat and stared at the wall in shock. It was done. That was too easy. Where's the catch? Is it really over? Pinch me!!










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Monday, May 05, 2008

Wikipedia, the web-based encyclopaedia project is a source of information just about everything you can think of. I often find myself "wikipediaing" (did I just make up a word?) famous people and their careers. There is a section of Wikipedia on the Nouveau Riche that is, those people who have made their fortunes in their own generation. This obviously does not include Paris Hilton! One of my favourite rags to riches movie would have to be "Rocky", the story of a relatively unknown boxer who gets the chance to fight the heavyweight champion, Apollo Creed. I always get teary in these films, but not just at the end. In fact I can quite easily go through a whole box of tissues per film! The most beautiful thing about rags-to-riches stories is the thought that there is a possibility that we too, can become the very heroes we admire.


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Tuesday, April 29, 2008

After a long battle with the automated system the mechanical voice finally puts me through to a human.

The line is long-distance and crackling. Possibly Delhi, I couldn't tell.

"Hello, Telstra how can I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I went to a Telstra shop last week and paid for an unlocking code. The guy couldn't unlock it so he put me on to this line and the lady said she would request a unique code for me and call me back within 3-4 working days."

"Yees?"

"Well, it's more than 3-4 working days and I haven't got a call."

Silence.

"So I'm calling up to get my code."

"I will have to put in a request."

"No, no, you don't understand. I spoke to someone already - they put in the request for the unique code."

The sounds of her typing in the background go ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka

"On the 21st of April?"

"Yes, that's right. And I've paid for it already, all I'm waiting for is my code."

"Yes, I can see it. It's coming up as 0000 0000."

"Yes, that's the code that the guy at the Telstra shop used. It didn't work. I'm waiting for the unique one."

"That's it, all I've got here. Would you like me to put in a request?"

"What happened to the original request? The one the lady already did for me?"

"It's not showing up. Would you like me to put in a request?"

"There's already been a request. Can you get her on the phone for me? Maybe she's got my code already"

"I can't tell you who it was."

"Can you find out? It would be best for me to speak to her since she was the person I was dealing with on the phone at the Telstra shop"

"Do you have her employee number?"

"Why would I have that? No. Strangely she didn't give it to me."

"Then we can't do anything."

"Let me get this straight. I paid for my phone to be unlocked. The guy at the Telstra shop doesn't unlock it, then he puts me on the phone to a lady who apparently doesn't exist. This lady says 'I'll put in a request for you' and now you can't find her."

"I can put in a request, it will take 3-4 working days."

"I want to speak to your manager."

"I can't do that."

"Yes you can. Just put me on hold and get your manager. I want to find out what's going on here."

"It's not possible..."

"Could you please just put them on?"

~HOLD MUSIC~
~10 LONG MINUTES PASS~

The long distance crackle is gone. The phone line is much clearer.

"Hello, I'm the manager how can I help you?"

*Exploding*
"Yes. Where do I start. I-went-to-a-Telstra-shop. The guy couldn't unlock it. He put me on to the phone service. The lady on the phone said she would put in a request for an unlock code and it's been over 3-4 working days and I still haven't got a call from her."

"Mmm"

ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka

"There's no records here I'm afraid. Nothing about a request being put through."

"Excuse me but the lady I just spoke to, not two minutes ago she knows it happened. On the 21st of April, she even knew the date."

"All we've got is a record of you paying for it. No request was put through. Do you want me to put one in now for you?"

"No, I don't want to wait another week when I should have had this code a couple of days ago. I'd like to find out what happened to the original one from last week. Can't you look it up? There must be something there."

"Do you have her employee number?"

"What? No. No I don't. Why would I?"

"There's no record of a request."

"But there was! She told me she'd do it. 'Put in a request', that's what she said."

"Ah, you're talking about a *insert weasel word here* request. As opposed to a *insert other weasel word here* request."

"Look, I don't care about the internal machinations of your department. I just care about my unlock code. Why is it that you can't you find it? How is this possible?"

Silence.

Silence.

Realisation slowly dawns as my shoulders sink.

"...Because the lady on the phone at the Telstra shop never did anything, did she? She just told me she'd put in a request, then hung up the phone after speaking to me and did absolutely nothing."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"...Left me waiting for days.."

"That's what it looks like."

"And now I have to go through all of it again."

"I'll put in the request."

ticka ticka ticka ticka ticka

(groan) "If you do find her, perhaps you could have a talk to her."

"Oh yes, there'll be some enquiries."

"Like these ones? That's great."

"Is there anything else we can help you with today?"

(restrained) "No. No there isn't. Thank you."







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Monday, April 21, 2008

I must begin by detailing this wonderful purchase on Ebay. A Samsung SGH-C300.























$16 for a phone that cost $100 new. Not bad at all. I have only been watching items for what seems like 2 years but I finally got one. Now, the phone was locked to Telstra so I decided that the price of unlocking (around$30) added to the price of the phone did not make the cost prohibitive.

So, it was simple. I go to the Telstra shop at a local shopping centre. The wait was excruciating and for anyone who has dealt with Telstra over the phone, you will know what I am talking about. So I waited, and waited.

Suddenly a strange man appeared. He was gnarled with yellow teeth and a strange hangnail growth of some sort. I am not joking. He looked quite a bit like this guy:

















Although similar in looks to Lo-Pan from "Big Trouble In Little China" the similarity ended here. He was not all-seeing, powerful, flame throwing or supernaturally gifted in any way.

In fact, he couldn't even unlock my phone.

"Can I help you?"
He seemed to appear from nowhere and was suddenly standing to my left.

"Oh, yes. I want to get this phone unlocked. It's locked to Telstra and I have another type of SIM card." I showed him the phone.

"How long have you had it?"

"Uh, just got it."

"FIFTY DOLLARS."

"Excuse me? I thought it was around thirty dollars."

"FIFTY DOLLARS." The room seemed to shake with the force of his words.

"But...this isn't a new phone. It's quite old. Look." I showed him the phone again, scratches all over the face of the screen indicated a very used phone.

"It might be new."

"How?" I was growing tired of him.

"I can't tell if it's new. You can't tell if a phone is new by looking at it."

"Well I can." I'd had it now. What did he think I had, a custom scratching machine for scratching new phones so I could save twenty bucks?

"Hmmmm." He looked at me suspiciously.

My cortisol levels were rising and he seemed to be enjoying it. What he didn't seem to realise was that I was two seconds and bad judgement away from grabbing his neck and throttling him over the desk.

"This phone ok? If not, I unlock it and it doesn't work, you just wasted your money." He cackled at me.

He spent what seemed like hours trying to find the serial number. He absent-mindedly removed the battery and laid his elbow over it.

"Uh, shouldn't you be turning the phone off before pulling the battery out?"

"You have sim card?"

I handed it to him.

He then proceeded to dangle his sleeve and buttons over my sim card and went back to resting his elbow on my battery.

He spent another five minutes looking up a code. I was mortified to find out it was the same code I had seen on the internet this morning. For free. But no, I wanted to be a responsible citizen and do everything properly.

F*&#K!!!!!!!!!!

So, he finally punches in the code he spent five to ten minutes finding in an official Telstra mobile phone shop. This is the same code I spent two point five seconds finding on the internet.

Oh god, I just want to get out of here.

Then he spent another five minutes (that seemed like twenty) scratching his head and tapping the keyboard with the rather disturbing long nail of his. He still wouldn't look at me.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Come over here." He bundled me over to a desk with a computer screen and a phone. He called a number and while he was calling said I'd have to talk to them.

"Can't someone here do it? I mean, unlock my phone. That's what you do isn't it?"

He mumbled something about the code not working and handed me the phone, leaving me in the middle of a noisy shop with an electronic voice for company.

"If you are ready to continue say, 'continue'".

"continue."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?"

Why do computer simulated voices try to sound human? They're not fooling anybody! Even if it said to me "nahwarries mate got a bloody good code ere for ya ang on I'm just gunna get a beer" I still wouldn't believe it.

So I repeat 'continue' and it stops dead. Nothing.

"Hello? Um, 'continue'. Uh, 'repeat'"

Still nothing.

"Shit."

"Hello!"

I called out to the Lo-Pan guy who was off 'helping another customer', his feet on a desk.

"HELLO!"

By now, most of the people in the shop were looking at me. One of Lo-Pan's coworkers got his attention and motioned to me.

"It stopped working." I told him.

He pressed a couple of buttons and now I was back to an earlier menu.

"Here is the code. After you enter the code, wait for further instructions."

I tried it. I was not really astounded to find out it didn't work.

"Did this code work? Say yes or no."

"NO!!!" I yelled into the mouthpiece, causing more people to look in my direction. By now had I access to cigarettes I would have lit one up in the shop, smoking laws be damned.

"Please hold while we put you through to an operator."

Oh now I get to talk to a person. Lucky lucky me.

"Hoiy, what soims to be the problem?" This are not typos, this is her diction.

I took a deep breath.

"I came to this Telstra shop to get my phone unlocked and now the guy hasn't unlocked it and put me on this phone and the code didn't work."

"Orh, right. What's your oymeee?"

"My what?"

"Your OYMEEE!"

"I heard you, I just don't understand what you're talking about."

"When you open your phone there's an oymeee."

I opened the phone, searching around. "Is it some kind of number?"

"Yeah, an oymeee."

Oh for f@%$@k's sake. I spotted something. "Hang on. You mean this? An I-M-E-I number!"

I felt like I had cracked the DaVinci code.

"Yeah, oymeee." she sighed like I was an idiot.

I read it out.

"Okay, hold on...(silence)... I can't get you the code for three to four working days. Can I get your number and someone will call you back."

"Can't you find out now? I'm in the Telstra shop. I have already paid and the guy hasn't done anything. I don't want to leave a shop after paying for something I haven't received. Do you understand this logic?"

"Yeah..."

"So if I leave now and I get a call in a few days and then THAT code doesn't work, what happens then?"

"Um, you get a refund."

"I get a refund"

"Yeah..." she said tentatively.

I gave her the number, left the store and went to buy hardware supplies, possibly for later use when I return to the Telstra shop.



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