Well, it's that time of the year and my birthday is coming up!!

I have compiled a brief list of what I would like for my birthday in 2009:

• A holiday - actually, two holidays because I haven't been away for more than a year
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• The ability to play golf like a cross between Tiger and Seve Ballesteros
  
  
• Miniature pigs!!! (No, not really, because I couldn't possibly look after them - but I love them!!)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• The car from "Supernatural" aka "Metallicar"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Inspiration and Success
  
  
• Peace, Love and possibly even some Mungbeans!!

To anyone who is betting in the Melbourne Cup tomorrow, Good Luck and hope your horse comes in!!

xxx
LJP

technorati tags: birthday melbourne cup racing carnival

I was in a grocery store checking out ginger tea today and I happened to hear the following conversation:


"I would like to apply for an account."

"Did you bring your undies?"


This had me bemused for a moment. Why would someone request underwear for a store account application? Is this some kind of security in case the person in question rushes off without paying their account?


"Ha ha!! You can't go!! I've got your undies!!"


After about a minute of wandering I caught another part of the conversation and finally made the connection. She was saying "Do you have any IDs?".


The tyranny of the English language. I'm glad I don't have to learn it.

technorati tags: english, mispronounce, undies, groceries

Patrick Swayze has died. It doesn't seem real yet. I loved his movies but most of all I loved Point Break, which to many people was much more than just a film.

To me he will always be "Bodhi".

R.I.P. Brother
xxox

technorati tags: patrick swayze bodhi point break

Artists Impression of Gilese 581d, photo credit HelloFromEarth

HelloFromEarth was set up to send messages from Earth to a planet named Gliese 581d, a planet that is speculated to possibly contain life. The messages were moderated, approved and sent on the 28th August 2009. The messages were sent from the NASA/CSIRO Canberra Deep Space Communication Complex at Tidbinbilla, Australia.

Here are some of my favourite messages currently on their way to Gilese 581d:

"Greetings strangers. If you need an interpreter for these messages, I'm great at languages. Let me know, got no plans for the next 50 years or so."

"I think that you already know my husband. He is from another planet! Drive carefully and don't speed. See you soon. GM. xxx"

"Hello Neighbour, Please don’t consider these messages as alien-spam! Thanks, Lonely Earth"

"Look forward to working with you skateboarding!And also invite you to eat dumplings!"

"Long live Dave Grohl. Long live Foo Fighters. Long live Czech beer. Let's rock!"

"Alien dude, need tickets to Pearl Jam."



The messages will take around twenty years to reach their destination and will take around twenty years for a reply to come back to earth. A total of 25,880 messages were sent with a file size of 2,845,539 bytes.

I hope they have broadband.

technorati tags: aliens, Giliese 581d, planet, extra-terrestrial, message from earth

As I briefly stated on Twitter (does anyone read Twitter these days? Hehehe) - I went "beep" at the supermarket again.

For some reason it is my destiny in life to go "beep" (see previous post "I am not a shoplifter I just go "beep") whenever there are security devices or metal detectors. I once travelled from Melbourne to Los Angeles, California to Mexico, from LAX to Seattle, from Seattle to Hawaii, all going beep at every available opportunity. If I didn't look so clueless I probably would have got myself into trouble along the way. Strangely on my way back from Mexico to California, the jolly looking man at the border checkpoint smiled broadly and ushered me AROUND the metal detectors so I didn't have to get checked in any way. It was very nice of him and it's lucky for California that I'm not some kind of arms smuggler.

On returning from this trip I discovered the source of my troubles - a security sticker with a Terminator-style chip on the inside. This security disturber was stuck to the back of my liquid makeup.

Well, you would think that I would have learned by now but no. I bought Revlon New Complexion Makeup (sorry Musq!) and unbeknownst to me, it carried one of these strange stickers on the back of the bottle.

So I nonchalantly walk into the supermarket and hear a deafening beep. People looked at me suspiciously, like I was some kind of criminal. The fact that I was walking IN to the supermarket was lost on them. That had I been apprehended, I would have been found guilty of "shopputting" rather than "shoplifting".

This is an interesting concept. In London a company named TalkTalk hired a bunch of former pickpockets to become "putpockets", distributing anything from 5 - 20 pounds to random strangers without their knowledge. I love this idea. It's nice. It's just that if I catch some dude with his hand in my bag I'm more likely to go Ninja on him rather than ask him whether he is dropping off or picking up. But I digress.

So I've just gone beep. I retreat to a quiet aisle where I can painstakingly remove the offending sticker. The sadists who made these stickers ensured that it was impossible to remove the dang thing without getting your fingernails clogged with brittle silver goo. Finally I found a loose thread and "wound" the whole sticker off. By this time I was sweating slightly and starting to panic at the thought of having to go beep on my way out. I had almost removed all traces of the crap when an announcement comes over the loudspeaker.

"Security check Aisle 5"

Oh yeah, whatever I thought. I remember some friends in retail telling me that people just say that over the speaker randomly to keep people on their toes. So I relaxed a bit.

Then I looked up - I was in Aisle 5.

Then I looked around - there was no-one else in Aisle 5.

My shopping expedition turned into a cloak and dagger game of evasion as I wound my way through aisles, scratching annoying bits of residual silvery sticky crap off the accursed bottle of makeup. And trying to clean my fingernails for fear that they might set off the alarm again.

I grabbed the few items I needed and escaped quite slowly through the checkout.

Receipt in hand, out into the arms of freedom, the fugitive lives to fight another day.

technorati tags: supermarket, shopping, detector, beep, sticker, crime

I was making myself a sprouted spelt toastie with fetta and avocado. I never thought I'd actually admit to eating that. Anyway, I had just read an article describing how it is a good idea to spear an avocado in the pip and twist it out.

What the article should have also mentioned is to put the avocado on a flat surface, not to hold it in your hand. But the writer didn't count on someone like me reading his article and doing something quite so spectacularly stupid.

Half an avocado in my left hand, a knife in my right, I had speared the pip to a certain extent but I needed to push harder. So of course I pushed harder.

Without warning the knife slipped off the pip, the pip went flying over my head, the knife shot through the outside of the avocado and stabbed straight into the base of my second finger. It stopped suddenly, perhaps because it hit the bone. I pulled the knife firstly out of my finger and then out of the avocado.

I calmly held my finger without looking as a few thoughts coalesced in my mind:

"Wow. This is going to hurt."
"I'm not sure I'm quite ready to look at it yet."
"Damn, I've got to stop making my sandwich, I'm so hungry."

I got a tissue, wrapped it around the base of my finger without a sound or a word. I walked out and casually said to my partner.

"Ah. Just stabbed my finger."
He looked concerned but I told him it was ok.

I finally looked at it - the shallow part of the cut was about a centimetre and the deep part is about half the size. The cut was shallow on the edges and deep in the middle. It also had a gross bit sticking out of it. It wasn't really that bad, it was just a surprise. One minute you're making a feta and avocado toastie, the next: "surprise"!! You've got a knife is sticking out of your finger.

Here's the weird thing though, it didn't really hurt, just a dull sting. I followed my somewhat modified version of:

Rest
Ice
Compression
Elevation


It went something like:

Squeeze tissue around finger
Elevation
Finish making toastie
Nip of cider


My finger is looking much better now and I have resolved in future to remove avocado pips by cutting around the pip and flicking it out.

Its safer that way.

technorati tags: avocado, accident, knife, finger, stupid

Don't shout so loud, everyone will want one. *bdum cha* (drum crash) 

 As I write this I am rather rapidly making my way through an entire pack of Mentos chewy dragees.

I ordered cream of mushroom soup today. The soup was nice, the usual standard I have come to expect from this establishment. Until that moment. It wasn't hard to find. The thing about cream of mushroom soup is that it's kind of white. And the thing about this hair was that it was kinda black. And short. And er... curly. Note: In this restaurant none of the staff appeared to have curly hair. Not on their heads, anyway. 

My face froze as I found the offending item, fished it out and put it on a napkin. It was at that same moment I lost my appetite. Perhaps permanently. 

This would make a great diet plan - I could call it the "Hairy Soup" diet. Guaranteed to put people off food forever. I do sometimes wonder if I have a sign above my head saying "Do something unspeakably gross in my food please". The fact that it was cream of mushroom soup doesn't bear thinking about.

BLAAAHHAAHHAA!!!!!! (Eats another Mentos) 

I told the waitress about the hair. She smiled at me as if to say "oh good". I suspect she did not have the faintest clue about what it was I had just told her. 

To quote John McClane (Bruce Willis) from the Die Hard quadrilogy: "How can the same sh!t happen to the same guy twice?" Or girl in this case. Please refer to previous post 'Waiter There's A Pubic Hair In My Tofu'. 

 I may never eat again.

 

technorati tags: cream of mushroom soup, restaurant, tofu restaurant pubic hair, hygiene

Maybe it was because I was feeling patriotic after Australia Day. Maybe it was because the camera was handy. Or maybe there are some signs you come across that are just too silly to ignore...

Australians all let us rejoice for we are young and free,
With golden soil and wealth for toil...




And in honour of the Australian Open this week...

technorati tags: silly signs funny billboards

My partner told me about how amazing an eggplant parmigiana can be when cooked properly. We decided to try out a 'counter meal' as they are known in Australia - basically a pub meal. The special was eggplant parmigiana and we arrived with anticipation of a mouth watering culinary experience.

WRONG!!

When the meal arrived, we suspected something was not quite right. For a start, my partner received about 4 chips while I received a larger pile. The nearby chicken parmigianas came complete with a mountain of chips and a parmigiana large enough to be a small car's hubcap. Our meal on the other hand, was quite different. The eggplant parmigiana itself was tiny, perhaps the size of an average person's palm. Oh well, I thought, quality not quantity. After tasting the eggplant, I was literally eating my words.

The knife provided was woefully ineffective, I found myself sawing away at this strange piece of boot leather and making little progress. Perhaps a local tree lopper would have come in handy at this point. The eggplant was dry, leathery and thin. It consisted of soggy layers of "batter", eggplant with the skin left on (which had the consistency of old boot) and another layer of soggy batter.

I could not bring myself to finish the meal, instead I dissected it out of curiosity and left it for the waiter to collect. When dissected, I noted it resembled Dalek innards (Dr Who fans will know what I'm talking about!).

When cooked properly, an eggplant parmigiana is thick, juicy, trimmed of skin and crumbed and fried. This science experiment was thin, skin heavy, microwaved back to life (or perhaps the undead), possibly frozen and grilled to within an inch of its life. It is my fond hope that pub meals will include vegetarian food more regularly in their menus and employ qualified chefs who have the expertise to er... cook.

If anyone out there knows a great eggplant parmigiana recipe, please enlighten me...

technorati tags: eggplant parmigiana recipe parma pub meal old boot

Me - olive skin, dark brown hair. The mission - to become a blonde. (play mission impossible music here)

Many say that us olive-skinned people should never go blonde. Hairdressers often get a look of fear and dread wash over their faces before hastily asking:

"How about some lowlights instead?"

Hmm. Lowlights eh?

When you were a kid, and you wanted fairy floss at the amusement park and your parents gave you a wholemeal peanut butter sandwich instead, were you satisfied?

I think that answers my question, whatever that was.

The point I'm trying to make is this - when you want to go blonde, there is no substitute. It's like some kind of weird addiction. Once the idea manifests, it germinates and grows and pretty soon you are thinking of nothing but achieving your goal of ultimate blondeness.

I go to a Korean hairdresser. The staff think I am amusing for some reason, I'm not sure why. I like going to them because they do weird punk haircuts and pretty much anything is fair game. I asked my hairdresser to give me a colour called "ash blonde" all over. She didn't even blink - just started mixing up all this weird purple stuff. She told me it was a bad thing to use bleach. I recalled many times sitting out in the sun, hair wrapped in glad wrap, 30 percent bleach burning my scalp. It didn't seem that bad to me. $15 and it worked.

So, $240 and three and a half hours later, I found myself with the same burning scalp, the same feeling of dread and excitement for the moment when they were washing and drying my hair for the third and last time. The first time had resulted in a "oops, not light enough" moment. Then the stuff was reapplied and left for long enough for me to read three tabloid magazines in their entirety.

I'm not sure if it was the hair dye, but I felt my brain melting after yet another Britney article.

Then I thought of bald Britney and got the fear. What if it vaporises my hair? What if they wash it off and it all disappears down the sink?

Get a grip, girl - this is 2008. They don't let things like that happen anymore. Do they?

Finally, the colour was revealed. Not bad at all. Very blonde, a little too yellowy for my liking. Still, I had to get out of there. I could not stand waiting for another hour while Britney and Angelina danced in my head. No more!

I asked my hairdresser to write down the colour and products, in case someone else (perhaps someone cheaper) had to do the regrowth. She wrote down a whole bunch of words on a card but only one word jumped out at me. Bleach. Which makes what she had said earlier kind of...wrong.

A strange thing happened in the next day or so. My hair started to morph into a strange brassy colour. My partner affectionately referred to me as "Violet Crumble".

























For those of you who are not familiar with this tasty treat, honeycomb is nice for a chocky bar, not so much for a hair colour. My olive skin cannot tolerate any yellow or orange tones. Well, I had both. My partner wore sunglasses in reference to my hair. It wasn't even sunny! I had to do something, and fast.

I tried Decore Blonde Toner - it promised to tone down brassiness and cool the colour to a wearable shade.

Wrong!! It just made my hair a lovely shade of salmon.

So, panicked by my salmon hair and the prospect of going out in public, I made it my mission to visit as many chemists as possible to get the right product. "Magic Silver White" was always the best toner for blonde hair. Now the product had been discontinued I was becoming slightly worried.

Thankfully I found Roux Fanci-Full Rinse in "silver lining" - amazingly it worked just as well as Magic Silver White and the Violet Crumble er... crumbled into a memory.

Result: Success!!













*phew!!*

I also found Magic Silver White on Ebay - it has been renamed "Brilliant Silver White". I ask you, a product is a favourite for years and they go and rename it so you can't find it easily! Anyway, the product is said to be true to the original formula and great for toning down brassiness. Highly recommended.

technorati tags: dark brown to blonde blonde toner magic silver white olive skin decore blondetoner roux fanci full rinse silver lining

Ever have one of those mornings where you wake in fright after the most vivid nightmare you could possibly imagine, the water goes scalding hot in the shower and while you're in the shower the phone rings and then you get out because you're in a hurry and when you're doing your makeup a big blob of mascara gets on your lashes and you blink, sending the blob straight into your eyeball, and then the phone rings again and you're trying to talk while grasping for a tissue because you can't see anything except a big black blob and your eyes are watering and you're starving and you haven't even had a coffee yet?

Er...me neither.

technorati tags: personal adventures

Often when something happens in my life that I don't enjoy, I tend to make an amusing post about it. It's my way of making lemonade out of lemons. Sometimes however, you just get lemons.

I was listening to my headphones in front of the computer. The song had ended so I took the earphones off to put them away. Without looking I reached into the wires of an air purifier with my hand still holding the earphones. My middle finger was the entry point and the charge went right through my body and down to my toes. If I had to describe it I would call it "being bitten by an electric eel underwater".

For hours afterwards I was unable to speak faster than 30 bpm and tingles and pains surged randomly through different parts of my body. The next day I was still speaking slowly and had pains in different regions of my head.

The most frightening moment was when I tried to use a computer and spent around a whole minute trying to figure out where the "copy" button is in Ctrl + copy. I felt like a complete dork when I realised it was just the "c" button. Considering I have been using computers since I was a kid, this was cause for concern.

The doctor did a multitude of tests of my reflexes and coordination. He wasn't entirely convinced I was ok, but he didn't want to alarm me either. Little did he know that underneath my vague and slow exterior was already a lot of panic and alarm. He ordered me to rest for a few days and get an Ambulance subscription. That didn't really fill me with optimism.

The next few nights were frightening as my heart was beating quickly and tingles and pains kept their random patterns going well into the small hours of the morning.

After I regained my energy after a couple of days, I tried yoga to get my circulation moving and exercise my muscles. Amazingly it worked so well that by the next day I was feeling like a new person.

I am pleased to say I am feeling back to normal apart from the occasional pain manifesting throughout various areas of my head. This is the first day I have blogged since the incident and I am happy to say I know how to use Ctrl + C again.

technorati tags: electrocution effect shock medical

On a recent trip through a couple of train stations in Melbourne, I needed to visit the bathroom before the train arrived. I emerged from the cubicle to face the "mirror" which was, in this case a sheet of lumpy polished metal. I've never understood the purpose of those things. Why pretend it's a mirror? Why not just have no mirror at all? Perhaps they thought the wall looked bare, I don't know.

I mean, I look into this thing and I can tell yep, I'm still the same height.

And that pinky/yellow blob up the top - that's probably my face.

The halo of dark stuff is my hair I presume...

And that's pretty much all I can tell. It's probably me in the reflection but I'm not 100% sure.

I could have a streak of mascara running down the length of my face and have absolutely no chance of spotting it. The first I'd know about it would be if someone told me or conversely, if someone kept their mouth shut about it but sniggered uncontrollably every time I turned my back.

So, after NOT looking in the mirror I start to walk down the ramp near the platform, swinging my arms enthusiastically as it is known that swinging your arms while you walk burns more calories.

I'm swinging away happily and...

THWACK!!

Oh no.

The back of my neck goes cold.

I've somehow managed to swing my hand smack bang into some poor guy's goolies.

Oh my God.

What does one do in this situation?

What's the etiquette?

This is the sort of thing they don't teach you at finishing school.

I can't say "sorry" because that would expose the fact that I am prepared to acknowledge that I've just swung my hand into his nuts.

God, how embarrassing.

Say something? What would I say anyway? Er...

"No, that wasn't your imagination. I truly did just whack you in the nuts just now...
But the good news is I wasn't carrying my umbrella in that hand. Oh, and by the way, I'm not some weird-ass girl who goes around randomly smacking people in the nads just so I can apologise... because that would make me really... um... worrying."

On second thoughts, don't say anything.

Keep walking. Oh, God, why does this have to happen to me? What was he doing walking that close and on that angle? He saw I was swinging my arms... didn't he? Don't make eye contact. I don't want a face to put to this excruciating episode. I don't want to know what he looks like.

Walk faster.

Stare straight ahead.

Act nonchalant and blend into the crowd quickly.

Maybe this is God's way of telling me not to use public transport.

technorati tags: public transport nightmare embarrassing nad whack

Last night, I was standing on the tram, holding my umbrella in one hand and holding on to the pole with the other.

I noticed an intriguing pamphlet sticking out of a document holder on the pole near the door. It said in big letters "DID YOU KNOW?"

I let go of the pole with my hand and started to pull it out, trying to get a look at the words underneath.

Suddenly the tram lurched forwards, causing me to fall backwards and hit the glass divider behind me.

The tram stopped again and I gathered myself together. I looked at the pamphlet in my hand.

What was so important and intriguing, I wondered, that the action of reading it had caused me to let go of the pole and fall over?

I held on to the pole firmly and read:

DID YOU KNOW?

...more people hurt themselves on trams than on a trapeze? But why?

...the answer is pretty simple - trapeze artists hold on.

...we care for your safety so

PLEASE HOLD ON WHILE STANDING

and stay safe on the tram.

technorati tags: tram safety leaflet

The train was into the second stop on the line when she sat next to me.

I was secretly annoyed because I was talking on the phone. One minute I was in full flight in a conversation and two seconds later I had a stranger sitting next to me.

Staring right at my face.

Now, far be it from me to call "weirdbag alert" but the signs were not looking good. So, suddenly I had to get off the phone from a conversation I was enjoying because I didn't feel comfortable with this strange woman listening in.

Stop 3 - I'm off the phone and thinking "oh, she's probably not a weirdo. Look, she looks quite normal." And she did, maybe in her 30s or 40s, normal looking as far as I could tell.

Then the smell hits me. Ammonia. Cat's p!ss? Human? Eeek.

Out of everyone on the train I get the lucky seat. The insides of my nostrils stung.

"Tough it out." I said to myself. "Is it coming from her?" I sniffed again, nearly gagging.

Yes it was.

She then proceeded to put her feet on the seats in front of her. The smell got stronger. That meant one of two things. Either she had stepped in... or....I didn't want to think anymore.

Then I realise something. I'm trapped in. The seats are three on each side. I was seated near the window, she near the aisle (do you call it an aisle on a train? That makes it sound so much more exciting). She had placed her feet on the seat opposite her so I was trapped in. I had to get her to move her feet in order to get out.

Okay, I'm trapped in. I thought. No! Even better, I'm trapped in and now she's got her eyes closed.

Oh, crap.

So I can't signal that I want to get out because she can't see me. But I must get out because if I don't, my nostril hairs will never be the same again.

Stop 4 - I start taking shallow breaths.

Stop 5 - I think I can make it.

"Wouhoughagh!"

She coughed so loudly it made me jump. What the hell?

Lucky me, the cough had been coming my way without a courtesy cover. Sh!t, now her eyes were closed again. I'm not touching her leg. That's just it.

The smell got so strong I started to absorb it through my eyes, nose and ears.

"Wouhoughagh!" "Cack!"

I saw my chance! She had just opened her eyes momentarily to make that horrendous sound. Without a pause I leapt up and stood for a second, not breathing, while she slowly lowered her legs from the seat.

I walked calmly, very quickly away from the area, stopping at the other end of the carriage. I will never forget that smell as long as I live.

When I got off the platform for some reason someone was smoking some green stuff at this very busy, very popular Melbourne station.

I stood with my nose in the air, taking very deep breaths.

technorati tags: train public transport weirdo

While researching and shopping around for a pager service I decided to visit the Telstra site. I tried to find "pager" with the search function but couldn't get any sensible results. Then I tried "paging". Considering the fun I have had in dealing with Telstra in the past, I found the result for my misspelled search quite amusing...














hee hee!

technorati tags: telstra phone pager

The following scenario took place yesterday in the park, early in the evening. My Partner was practicing golf, I had finished my walk and we were seated at a picnic table. Soon we were joined by The Dad and The Daughter.

The Dad: Hi guys, what's happening?

My Partner: Just practising some golf..

Me: Making the most of daylight saving...

The Daughter runs out and circles our picnic table, stopping in front of me.

The Daughter: I'm NINETYSIX!!

Me: Wow, you don't have any wrinkles or anything. Are you sure you're not six?

The Daughter: He doesn't have any wrinkles (runs to The Dad and points)

Me (to My Partner): That's so cute.

The Dad: Hey is The Simpsons actually drawn or is it that computer animation thing?

The Daughter: Homer has three hairs!

Me: I think they have animation cells so they probably draw it. They've got that exhibition...

The Daughter (grabbing The Dad's shirtsleeve): HE's got no hair like Homer Simpson!

(Awkward pause)

The Dad: So did you see that movie "American Beauty" last night?

My Partner: We watched a bit of it.

The Dad: Me too. But I fell asleep just as Kevin Spacey is getting shot in the head...

Me: How can you fall asleep in that part?

The Daughter: But he's HAIRY!! Here, here, here and here (pointing to various body parts)

My Partner: We saw Ratatouille as well.

The Dad: Haven't seen that one.

Me: It made me want to cook something, probably Ratatouille.

The Dad: What's it about?

Me: It's about a rat who wants to be a chef.

My Partner: It's really good.

The Daughter: ...AND HE'S GOT MAN BOOBS!!!

(Stunned silence)

The Dad (ignoring The Daughter): I think I'll rent the DVD out.

The Daughter: BIG HAIRY MAN BOOBS!!!

My Partner: Why don't you try a couple of shots (hands The Dad a golf club)

The Daughter: My mum hasn't got man boobs, she ran out of milk so she can't breastfeed my brother!

(Oh My God)

The Dad: (Loudly) Here, let me have a go.

The Dad hits a couple of shots.

My Partner: Mate, you don't have man boobs...

Me: (stifling giggles)

The Daughter: Little kids get man boobs too.
...but not as big as DAD'S BIG MAN BOOBS!!

The Dad: Hang on a second, we've got to stop this. Where did you hear about man boobs?

The Daughter: (pointing) From you!

The Dad: Really?

The Daughter: (proudly) Yep.

The Dad: Aha.

technorati tags: general

Yesterday, the 13th of February 2008, the apology finally came.
For the first time in a long time, I am proud to be an Australian.

View the apology to Indigenous Australians delivered by Kevin Rudd in Federal Parliament :




AUSTRALIA'S APOLOGY

Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.

We reflect on their past mistreatment.

We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were Stolen Generations – this blemished chapter in our nation’s history.

The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia’s history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.

We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.

For the pain, suffering and hurt of these Stolen Generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.

And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.

We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.

For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.

We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.

A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.

A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.

A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.

A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.

A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia.

technorati tags: sorry apology indigenous australians stolen generation Kevin Rudd parliament

This seems to keep happening to me. I ordered some more lip conditioning balm

spf 15 foundation




and lip plumping gloss



from eyeslipsface and when it arrived, the foundation was broken. I sent a simple email to their customer service section saying that the foundation was broken and whoops I also got the wrong colour so could I please have Tone 1 rather than Tone 2? I thought I might have been pushing it with the last request. So I waited, and a few days later I got a surprise. Not one but two Tone 1 foundations arrived, plus a super shimmery "hypershine" lip gloss in "fairy".



I am liking these guys...

I was very sad to hear this morning that Heath Ledger was found dead this afternoon (US time) in a Manhattan apartment. A great Australian actor and a huge loss. RIP Heath.

technorati tags: Heath Ledger