Twilight

When Harry Potter madness infected the world I foolishly resisted.  What sane adult would read a children's book about a wizard school?  Inevitably, curiosity led me to read "The Philosphers Stone".  From there my desire for a good book drove me to read the rest of the series.  J K Rowling is a superb writer and for the most part I enjoyed the series greatly.
Imagine then my interest when Twilight began to tread the path that Harry Potter had forged.  A series of books rabidly consumed by teenagers, followed by incredibly hyped movies.  My curiosity was again stirred; my wife and I borrowed the entire series and read it together. 
Unfortunately Meyer is no Rowlings.  I'll admit the premise of twilight is intriguing, and the storytelling aspect of her writing is competent if not enthralling.  But in the words of that great man Stephen King, she can't write a darn.  Her sentence structure is monotonous.  Her descriptions are workmanlike and unimaginative.  She repeats herself.  I felt like I was trapped in a Kevin Rudd press conference.
Technical snobbery aside there is more to dislike in Twilight.  The central characters appear to be drawn directly from the DSM-IV.  Bella Swan is grotesquely self absorbed while Edward pathologically tortures himself.  I still don't know why they like each other, although she does seem to have a fascination with marble.  In the "Most annoying character in the world race" these two are even odds winners.  While Jacob is more likeable Meyer rarely treats him fairly, lumping him with the rest of the Twilight characters who are obviously only there to revolve around planet Bella.
The popularity of this book scares me.  What does it mean when most of the teenage female population identify with Bella Swan?  Perhaps a generation of depressed checkout chicks await us.  

Hey I'm not Denis Leary

Girls have an opinion on everything.  The female mind does not appreciate the concept of reserving judgement, and while colouring the facts is undoubtedly fun its not always helpful.  Have you ever had that conversation where the condition of public toilets, specifically the male version, gets roundly hated on?  A female in the group, who while not revealing why she was in the male toilet, expresses her disgust at the appalling conditions witnessed and looks at you like you defiled it personally.   Perversely what usually follows is the males uproariously defending their aiming ability while the other females shake their heads distrustfully.  Now I may have frequented a few public toilets in desperate times but its highly unlikely I am wholly responsible for their state of ugliness.  Infact I have been in a few female loo's, for valid and defendable reasons, that have been far from sanitary.  I don't think the state of ladies toilets is exactly a beacon of female pride, and hardly a point to attack the males on.  Its a public toilet for goodness sake.  Its a communal area for people to relieve themselves, not something you can put in a glossy brochure.  Which begs the question of why girls go together.  Do they need company?  You don't see blokes rushing to stand at the urinal together.  One possible reason is that while waiting they clean up and throw the mess in the boys toilet.  That would explain perhaps why so many of them are experts on the inside of ours!  

Project Noob Box

Some of you may be aware of my penchant for Lan Parties; the gathering of people for the purpose of connecting computers together and playing games.   Now you may say that it's not cool and we are nerds, and those statements would be undeniably accurate.  You'll find we don't mind though as after all, there are worse groups to be associated with such as the Australian Labor Party.

As we have aged these parties have evolved with us.  While it is still best described as several puerile males embracing their computers and eating junk food, there is another group that needs mentioning; the families.  These annexed members now quite often out number the lanners.  Their needs can not be disregarded as it's become as much about them as us.  Disastrous to be sure, but unavoidable.

Inconceivably it seems that there is a limit to the number of times a female can watch "The Notebook" or "A walk to Remember".  The girls have practically begged us to let them play with us*.  So I have come up with a solution.  I disassembled 3 old PC's and installed them in a primitive box dubbed "the Noob Box".  Now we have three spare computers that the girls can play on when they get bored with gossip.  Problem solved.

At this point even I will concede that the Noob box is on the dark side of geekishness.  Enjoying Lans is one thing, building a computer project specifically for it is another.  But what fun is life if we can't explore the dark side sometimes?

*denotes a presumptuous and most likely false statement

Marrying the job

Have you ever stopped to consider that you spend 40 hours of your week with workmates?  Its insane.  Forced to associate with these randoms, each possessing varying degrees of tolerability, day in, day out.  Don't get me wrong, some of my workmates are NORMAL.  Some not so much.  There have been occasions where a convenient blunt object would have been invaluable.
It is just ironic that you focus so much effort in finding the right girl and marrying her just to spend the majority of the best part of your week talking to Derek.  Or Mary, Bob, Steve-o.  You get the idea.  I exchange more words with those I work with than my own family.
But what is the solution?  You could marry someone rich, then you both just continuously holiday on her fathers dime.  Or marry Derek.  Well perhaps not Derek, but someone at work that wasn't TOO annoying.  A tough assignment to be sure.  At least you could carpool.  I guess an alternative would be to not work at all, live it up in your in-laws garage, you both hanging around the corner shop on your BMX's.  Sounds fulfilling doesn't it?
Unfortunately my wife is not rich, she won't work with me and her parents garage has been deemed "inappropriate" by those child welfare snobs.  I guess it will be back to work for me tomorrow.  I just hope my kids remember who I am......    
  

Kiss life

I watch the kids with envy sometimes.  Jasper's biggest concern is putting his pants on so the zip is at the front.  Eli is satisfied if he can get his considerable store of boogers to his mouth before lunch.  Zach would trade it all for 5 minutes alone in the fish tank while Cheyenne sees world peace and obtaining a lollypop as equally valuable  achievements.

KISS.  Keep It Simple Stupid.  A great strategy for life.  I've spent the last 12 months endeavouring to simplify my existence.  To whittle down life to the barest essentials, allowing me to focus on the things that matter and free up time, that slippery little sucker.

I'll admit the journey has been predominately more enlightening than successful, at least measured by the goals I started with.  The problem I discovered is that I did not have a concrete plan for my free time.  Sure, I had a generalised intention, but nothing specific.  Spare time it seems is like water.  If you don't have a container prepared it will slip through your fingers.

My advice for life simplification?  Find somewhere you want more time.  Write it down, be specific.  Then when you adjust your timetable you have somewhere for that time to go.  Now I just need to work out whether I give up blogging or showering....

I smell smoke...

Coming home from work is one of those make or break moments.  Get it wrong and the night can become an intolerable mess.  Get it right and things can still be a mess, but at least there is no yelling.

  There is no greater conflict going on today than the global phenomenon of the tired worker returning to the stressed home maker.  You may read about Afghanistan in the paper but do not be fooled; the greater war is right under our noses.  If you want to something about world peace it needs to start here.

My own homecomings are somewhat hit and miss, and I concede that any failing is largely on my part.  Still, I am learning perseverance!  I guess it becomes a little like the Israeli/Palestinian conflict where we continually argue  over the same bit of land, and when we tire of that we just destroy each other until the next ceasefire.
Today greeted me with challenges I had not previously encountered.  I got home and listened eagerly to Renae recount the trials and tribulations of the day, praising and admonishing each child in turn.  I then said "Renae, thats sound very interesting but why is the wok on fire?"

Renae had left the wok on the stove with oil in it and the ensuing inferno was enthralling our four small children.  Never fear! Our well drilled team had the fire under control in short order, and we all laughed heartily about it later over a peaceful dinner table.  Yes thats what happened.  Mmm, I don't think so Max.
I won't bore you with incredibly embarrassing details but lets just say the lino in front of the fridge will never be the same and Renae will probably display some sort of post traumatic stress symptoms when the wok comes out again.

So men, when you come home from work don't forget to do your bit for world peace and listen to the wife, but be sure to cast an eye over the kitchen first.
  

Facebook celebrity

One night the wife was preparing for a party with the girls.  Normally this doesn't take long. Kids have the effect of making most activities perfunctory.  Tonight was different.  There was apparently a good chance of being facebooked.

Facebook is like having your own private papparazzi.  Those 300+ friends you've collected are privy to your every movement and only too willing to snap a quick photo of you and post it online.  You can't buy that kind of attention, and you probably wouldn't want to.  Suddenly your rent-a-crowd is posting all manner of things about you in to the webosphere.  Its certainly not like you get a chance to censor what your mates think is appropriate sharing.  "Hey Bob, any reason you posted that pic of me looking completely retarded?", "Which one do you mean Barry?", " You know the one, where I'm scratching myself with one hand and spilling my beer with the other."

If you were smart you'd blackmail all your friends with your collection.  Suddenly that shot of your mates mullet or crew cut rats tail combo is worth $20 bucks.  At the very least it could be held as insurance against being facebooked yourself.   I guess the motto here people is think before you facebook.  You never know what that person might post about you!