Polaroids of *Ahem* Hot Guys Reading

Shameless, Kettle, shameless.


See more (more!) here, via Readings (thank you ever so much, Readings).


Oh go on then, here's another one:


Thank you Mr Dean and your Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley, now I can get back to work.

Your coffee or your love?

There's a cafe up the road from our place where they're very serious about coffee. (Very. Serious.) If the term 'coffee shop' didn't sound so cutesy I'd call it a coffee shop because that's pretty much all they do: sell coffee, in its wet and hot, wet and cold, ground and unground forms. Sure they sell a few macaroons and the odd chocolate croissant but I suspect these items are more counter accessories than a major source of revenue.

So this cafe sells very good coffee which is, inherently, a very good thing.

By extension then, given the God-like status caffeine enjoys in my life, I consider the staff to be (inherently) very good people, and I would certainly have their babies and/or tweak their nipple rings if any were to ask.

(Please ask.)

But despite the centrality of these barista Gods to many of our lives, I worry they may not be altogether very happy people? In the year I've been frequenting this 'coffee shop' I have never seen any of these baristas crack a smile or share a familiar 'hello' with their devotees, nor (heavens!) engage in a spot of banter.

In fact, I was so desperate for an actual interaction with them last week that I mistook a barista chappy asking me how he could help me with how I *was* (existentially, I assumed). It was only when he looked away (embarrassed for both of us) that I realised he wasn't in the least concerned with how I was, just what form of coffee artistry was required of him. Ahem.

So my question is, can you be an expert coffee-maker and show your clientele the odd human kindness (a smile here, a 'see you next time' there), or does one preclude the other?

Marvellous!

From here.

Teach me what?

I have an exam today so I've been doing some practise questions.

I just came across this one:

True or False: Living in poverty affects a child's school achievement rather than their emotional or behavioural states.

My answer: False
Correct answer: True

I thought, in answering the question, no, living in poverty does not just affect a child's school achievement, rather than their emotional or behavioural states. I think living in poverty would affect all those areas; doesn't it?

Apparently not, according to my textbook.

There's a message there for policy-makers: Fix the poverty problem and you'll instantaneously fix the literacy and numeracy issues in Australia too. Sure we'll still have all our emotional and behavioural issues but 40 years in a mundane processing job should beat them out of us.

Dumb Word of the Day

Webliography.

A bibliography of web addresses.

Amazing. I mean, seriously, wow.

If the person who came up with that had spent a few extra minutes sleeping in that day and thus had a few less minutes spare to ponder the cumbersomeness of 'web bibliography' (and to create the equally cumbersome 'webliography') the world would be a better place.

Don't you think?

How many feathers can a vego bear?

I bought my son a new doona today, a feather one. It's lovely, very fluffy, just the kind of doona to keep a small child (or anyone who fits into a single bed) warm during the reclining hours.

But... [and I can't say this too loudly because I fear the answer: Should a vegetarian actually buy a feather doona?].

I'm assuming (on reflection, after the thrill of my trip to the local Westfield has subsided) that the 85% duck feathers and 15% duck down that make up my son's doona filling were collected pond-side by enthusiastic bird-watchers who did not rip said feathers and down from dear birdies' sides but picked them up, delicately, one by one, as they fell to the ground during sun-bathed morning wing stretches, right?

Right?

On the other hand, how many baby acrylics died to make his previous acrylic-stuffed quilt? Gah!

What a shame we can only metaphorically bask in the warmth of our parents' love; that would have solved my son-warming doona dilemma.

Signs that 35 may be closer to 40 than 30

1. Watching Deadwood and saying to your partner, "I mean, really, do they need to say 'c*cksucker' quite so much?"

2. Realising that people who were born in 1993 are now eligible to vote. Sero?

3. Automatically picking up the locally produced, gluten and antibiotic-free, certified free range eggs with no added hormones at the supermarket.

4. Deciding amongst your pals whose house to hold the regular poker game at based on who has the most and/or youngest kids.

5. Enjoying a track called 'Blue-winged Kookaburras' on an album called Kakadu: A Celebration of the Wetlands.

6. Eating exactly eight almonds a day because your nutritionist told you to.

What. The. Fuck.

Then again, a darling twenty-something pal of mine who is a fully sick rock band drummer has just started knitting granny squares so hey, maybe 20 is the new 40.