Any retrospective of Big Brother will show clearly where the show's demise began: while the first four seasons successfully combined unique personalities with a den-mother like host (Gretel Killeen) and less focus on gimmickry, the subsequent seasons changed in tone and mood. Post-Season 4, the downhill slide began, precipitated by a stable of housemates chosen for their looks, youth and willingness to stoop to any level to garner attention. Personality went out the door, replaced with the overwhelming feeling that each housemate spent most of their time preening and posing in self-conscious preparation for a Ralph or Zoo magazine cover. The prizes became the main incentive to participate; that and the potential for ongoing fame of the Paris Hilton variety: famous for being famous.
The content of the show changed too: tasks and challenges were less focused on cooperation and more on financial gain. The voting system aptly summed up the cynical tone: instead of voting for your favourite housemate, why you could vote against your least favoured housemate too. Twice the number of votes; twice the amount of revenue.
Of course, commercial television is all about the revenue, but what started as a fairly interesting exercise in pop-sociology quickly deteriorated into something tepid and yawn-inducing. Stories abound of the housemate selection process where potential competitors were encouraged to simulate masturbation and the like. While the first four seasons of Big Brother housemates weren't the purest or smartest folks in the world, they offered something more than crass jokes and a torrent of swearing and sexual innuendo.
Gretel Killeen, herself a respected comedienne and author, became less of a den-mother figure and more of a disinterested observer. The only time she genuinely engaged was to take to task one of the more unsavoury characters; the liars and braggerts who seemed to infiltrate the show. You only need to watch the final evictions to see the change in mood of the show: where the first four winners and their respective runners up are genuinely surprised and moved by their success, the later winners punch the air aggressively. Gretel's voice quavers with emotion in the first four evictions: in the later ones she moves aside as the winners strut and posture.
Eventually Gretel's clear disdain for the kind of dross she had to deal with became far too apparent; the audience picked up on it and it became like a stadium-sized Weakest Link, where housemates were evicted from the house and then subject to a tirade of personal questions attacking their questionable personalities. It wasn't fun to watch, and the wrong people kept winning the show: the twins who were separated by eviction in the last week, allowing the evicted twin to use his winnings to vote for and secure a win for his brother; the simpleton surfie bogan who won at the behest of thousands of teenage girls who deemed a spunk a better winner than a strong-willed female contestant. She went on to host a radio show: he spent his winnings within 18 months and has little to nothing to show for the experience.
Big Brother was a goldfish bowl broadcast almost live on TV; there were discernible characters amongst the fake reeds and they provided some interesting fodder for 30 minute spurts. Without ads, a 30 minute TV show is about 22 minutes long. Much like goldfish, viewers could tune in, observe some fellow humans and then pretty much forget about them until the next episode. Where once the show had at its core the focus on relationships and communication while in an enclosed environment, eventually the number of garish fish outnumbered the more interesting but less flashy goldfish and the show suffered as a result.
Enter Kyle and Jackie, two less than enthusiastic hosts and what results is a landslide in ratings, with audiences abandoning the show in a phenomenon described as audience erosion; not even an appearance by Carson Kressley and Pamela Anderson could save it*. The demise of Big Brother is long overdue, and is not entirely unexpected. This is evidenced by the stony-faced appearance of all previous winners - bar the first Ben Williams who refused to be associated - in the finale. The interviews with them are brief and lack any kind of emotional response. Even the audience is subdued, as opposed to previous finales which were large scale media events where much of the dialogue between host and housemate was drowned out by a supportive excited crowd.
The glint in the eyes of Gretel Killeen in a crossover to a theatre somewhere where she's relishing her new role as Narrator in Rocky Horror Picture Show tells us much about glad she is to have evicted herself well before the Titanic sank. Nothing if not an astute media operator, Gretel knows she well rid of the show, which proved an excellent fit for her in the early years, and more an uncomfortably large monkey on her back in recent times.
It's time to go Big Brother, and not before time. Don't let the door hit you on the arse on your way out.
*Irony! For lamb's steak, you must realise this.
- Ratings:over and out
- Soundtrack:more rain, lighter now but sounds soothing
Multi-Region:
• Turn On the unit with the remote controller
• Wait until "no disc" appears in the unit's display
• Press Pause, 3, 1, 4, 1, 5, 9
• The word "CODE" should appear in the display
• Within five seconds, press the key that corresponds to the zone you want i.e. 0 for region free, 1 for region 1, 2 for region 2 and so on
• Again, within 5 seconds, press Pause and Power
To no apparent avail. Recently, I played a DVD from the US which I was pretty convinced wouldn't play. It was Heathers. Good film that. Just now I have attempted to play another good film on a DVD which I have previously watched on this DVD player, and to my surprise have been told it Cannot Play due to area limitations. W.T.F? The good film in question is Talking Heads Stop Making Sense. On the back of it I've noticed it says Region 2.
Besides the obvious solution (buying a $49 DVD player which will naturally play everything including a cheese slice, but which will not complement my expensive home theatre system very well) does anyone have any helpful advice please?
Thank you for your time.
Here's a picture of an old telephone:
I knew how to use those.
- Ratings:reminiscing about simple times
- Soundtrack:well, not Talking Heads, that's for sure.
Today at work I checked my voicemail: 5 messages, and every single one of them was a hang-up.
Odd.
Whoever it was; sorry I missed your call. Unless you just needed to hear my voice. Then it's okay.
- Ratings:nice rain we're having
- Soundtrack:rain on a Monday afternoon is soundtrack enough
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well. Enough said.
I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Oh ...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me ?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)
And I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over, la ...
I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight ?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over
Love is Natural and Real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is Natural and Real
But not for such as you and I, my love
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my ...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can even feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my ...
- Ratings:looking at stars
- Soundtrack:what do you reckon?
- The Presidio / Golden Gate Park
- The Castro
- Haight-Ashbury
- Alcatraz
- North Beach - a very cool district
- City Lights Bookstore
- Vesuvio's
And of course the legendary Sam Wo's:
Okay, so that was more than 5, but hey: I loved living in San Francisco, I am really feeling the urge to get back there and visit about 100 other places on my Must-See list, and I rarely get asked for travel advice. When I do, I get excited. I haven't been to the most exotic places in the world, but where I have been, I have explored, blended in and absorbed as much as I can about the place in the limited time I've had.
And yes; I am jealous as all hell.
- Ratings:wistful?
- Soundtrack:goodbye to love - the carpenters
Because I could no longer lay claim as your arbiter of cool if I didn't.
totallylookslike.com: Fashion designer Donatella Versace totally looks like Janice the Muppet
Cos I need more dog pictures, just to even things up a bit: Ihasahotdog.com
And finally, as Deelite once sang: teh groovey! RetroPlanet.com featuring snazzy Wizard of Oz totes:
That's all.
- Ratings:I'm no Anna Wintour
- Soundtrack:Madonna - Borderline
Iris Murdoch said “There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for-granted relationship” and while she's primarily referring to romantic relationships, the same comment might be made about friendships. Let's face it: some platonic friendships last longer than romantic ones, and they can have their equivalent ups and downs. And they too can often be taken for granted. It's not like we're given any warning about how soon, or how unexpectedly a friendship could be cut short. If you never told your friends how much you valued them, do you think they'd know? Sometimes it needs to be spoken; sometimes it's just implied, and sometimes you just know it from their actions. But if there's any doubt in your mind, perhaps you better say something. You never know.
I've written often enough here about being made to feel welcome and included in the community here, and about how grateful I am to feel part of a group. I'm pretty certain my close friends here and back home in Sydney know through action, intent and words how much they mean to me, and in almost all cases it's been reciprocated. Where it's not, well; what can you do? Withdraw, reflect, reassess. As much as it hurts to be told, finding out where you stand with people is actually quite useful. It's just another lesson really.
On Friday night I ate good food and enjoyed the company of K____ and her fella D____, and it was like we'd never been apart. For D____ and I it was like old friends meeting up after an extended absence, even though it was the first time I'd even met him. Over an enormous cup of hot chocolate* later we sat in a cafe and reminisced and told stories and just hung out the way good friends can; with comfortable silences and no inhibitions.
The lesson that night was about simplicity; a couple of hours together beats nothing at all, and the comfort supplied by the utterly appreciated relationship was a fine tonic after a tumultuous couple of weeks. Home now, I am grateful for offers of rides to the airport and back, and for being able to just hang out and catch up the way good friends can. I want to stand on the beach in silence and soak up the last rays of the day. I've dug out a kite I bought recently; it's in the shape of a jellyfish and I know exactly who to share its maiden flight with. It's all about simple fun, and taking nothing for granted.
It's the least we can do for those who aren't fortunate enough to live long lives, and for those whose friendships are cut far too short.
*Photographic proof as soon as I figure out how to get it off my phone.
- Ratings:wiser, sadder
- Soundtrack:mama said knock you out - LL Cool J
As she slept, N____ dreamt she was at our parents house; her dogs were out in the yard barking up a storm and she went outside to investigate. In a nearby tree, a baby owl sat watching her intently. The dogs barked and still the baby owl sat calmly, quietly, unperturbed. She shushed the dogs to no avail, and heard a phone ringing. She woke to her own phone ringing, and shook off the dream in time to answer it. It was S____'s sister, telling N____ that her best friend had passed away only minutes before. N____ had been asleep for less than half an hour.
In mythology and superstition, owls have always been regarded as symbols of death. They are also described as wise creatures, figures of knowledge and longevity. Dreaming of owls indicates change, and that some vague matter will become much clearer. Native Americans believe owls carry elders spirits away.
My sister says she's never much thought about owls, much less seen them in her dreams.
I'm off to Sydney this morning. Be back soon.
- Ratings:sad relief
- Soundtrack:silence
This is Borneo. Of course. Everywhere I turn: Borneo. Could be worse I guess. It could be Barry Manilow.
- Ratings:weapons of mass distraction
- Soundtrack:ibrahim ferrer
These are lilies. Just 'cos.
- Ratings:packing
- Soundtrack:you're in a mess - falling joys
This afternoon I fed the monster an early dinner, watched him watching the world from the open back door and patted him as he wandered around, checking out a house he knows like the back of his paw. Then I soothed and cajoled him, snuck into the bathroom and opened the door to his carrier, before holding a towel like a matador's cape and swooping on him, gathering him up in one movement and giving him a gentle cuddle before quietly, oh so calmly walking into the bathroom and plopping him down in front of the open door of the cat cage.
Suitably curious and yet not angry or afraid, he walked in, sniffed at the edges a bit and turned back just in time to see the door close and the latch secured.
Mission accomplished.
In days gone by, Monty would walk in there unprompted and even sat in there on hot days. Then slowly it dawned on him that not every trip would involve a positive outcome. Sure, every now and then he'd end up at an Aunties house or he'd find himself on a baggage carousel in the Tropics. Ah-ha he'd think; that's why she packed my boardshorts.
But more often than not he'd find hopping in the cat cage and going for a short drive would result in some kind of decidedly unpleasant experience. Like getting a cold metal instrument being poked up in his hey now that's not right what the hell is this all about? or being left in an (admittedly large) cage with a little bed, a kitty litter tray and a scratchpost that someone else had already gotten the good bits off of, and a oh, we get fresh roo meat here? well that's more better but still it's not nice to be left in a cage for a week, even if you try to soften the experience by calling it Boarding School and making funny jokes about Monty wearing a little public schoolboy uniform and doing his times tables.
Here he is in his IT class, looking at files in the computer:
And this is Phys Ed class:
The reality is checking him into the local cattery, a thoroughly fantastic place* with excellent caring staff and owners who treat each animal as if it were their own. The ramshackle place once owned by a gentle and caring, but old and probably tired man has been recreated as a pet haven, one where the most guilt-ridden pet owner can feel comfortable leaving their loved one. The cat section features roomy cages with the usual bed and kitty litter tray, but also extras like blankets, toys, scratchpost and decals. The radio plays and there's a couple of fans for hot days. When I'm feeling particularly guilty I get Monty the Apartment - a whole room to himself, complete with lounges and places to hide.
The first couple of hours he's there he spits and snarls angrily: once he realises he's going to be fed, and well, he settles down. By the next day when I call and make sure everyone there still has their faces intact, he's purring and letting himself be patted and fed. When I return, he hisses at me like I'm a stranger (or perhaps just the nasty woman who abandoned him and about whom he's gonna tell Aunty S____ and N___ and anyone else who will listen) because he knows he don't get no fresh roo meat at my house.
This afternoon went well though; after successfully luring (read: depositing) him into the cage, I packed up his Star Wars tote bag:
with his blue blanket (for extra warmth and a reminder of home) and his chickie toy:
and off we went on his latest adventure.
The house is quiet now; it'll get quieter as the night stretches on and his absence is felt more keenly. He can be a noisy little thing, what with the meowing and sound of footsteps on wooden floorboards. He slips and slides around the house, running from front to back door as cars, people and stray cats wander the dark. Then he's all stealth and subtlety, prowling for geckos and standing next to me as I eat. Later he'll be bold and excited, racing to the kitchen to beat me to the cupboard where he knows the biscuits are. I'm a soft touch too; he always gets a little snack when I get myself a late night drink or some icecream.
I miss him already.
*My opinion may be different if I had to stay there.
- Ratings:gulp
- Soundtrack:swing music for distraction
- Ratings:ouch
- Soundtrack:something to distract me
Here's Jerri now:
In the film, Jerri locks horns with her right-wing creationist Science teacher, and is held back after class because of some perceived infraction. As she saunters off, all gaudy glamour and self-conscious sassy swagger, she calls him a name, and the following exchange takes place:
Chuck Noblet: What did you just call me?
Jerri Blank: Well, what did you hear?
Chuck Noblet: I'd rather not repeat it.
Jerri Blank: Then I guess we'll never know.
The last line is delivered with such bare-faced cheek it makes for a pearler of a laugh. I'd recommend using this method next time you feel the urge to call a boss, a teacher or any other person you may like to verbally abuse a rude name. I know I will.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, Amy Sedaris (sister to humourist David Sedaris) looks hardly anything like Jerri Blank in real life. Here she is promoting her book I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence an extremely funny book.
- Ratings:now i go to beach
- Soundtrack:Ike and Tina Turner Greatest Hits
- Ratings:seminarizing
- Soundtrack:Light My Fire - The Doors
What are the odds?
The frog in question is Wallace's flying frog (Rhacophorus nigropalmatus) which may in fact be jumping so high to avoid all the parachuting cats. Follow this link if you don't believe me.
Mmn: S____: it's a sign. Borneo needs some further investigation...
- Ratings:coincidenceschmoincidence
- Soundtrack:the sound of white - missy higgins
1. First Name: Probably 'the baby', until they decided to call me Lynda. Since then I've been called lots of names, not all of them complimentary.
2. Age: Varies. Somewhere between 26 and 35. Pretty soon I'm going to start telling people I'm 40, just so they say 'my but you don't look 40'. To which I will smile benignly.
3. Location: On the couch. Ergonomic? No. Comfy? Yes. I currently reside in Cooee Bay in Yeppoon, Queensland, Australia. Yes, Cooee Bay. I kid you not. Cooee is a Australian call used by people you'd describe as old drovers, and housewives in 1960's movies set in the bush.
Example: 'Cooee Marge! I've brought that scone recipe over!'
Russell Drysdale's The Drover's Wife:
4. Occupation: Battery hen with a red pen. Thankfully, I am well paid for my efforts and I get to leave my cage when I want and go home to a house. My job requires me to read lots and lots of words on paper and on computer screens, and discern whether the words have been assembled in a creative and interesting fashion. Sometimes they are: if they are so well assembled I am left breathless with spiteful jealousy, I award a High Distinction. Sometimes they aren't. I like this better: it's actually easier to mark writing which needs some refining. And I do enjoy it. Everyone can write something, and my job is to find out how best a person can express themselves.
5. Significant other? Every other (person) I've chosen to be in my life is significant to me.
6. Kids: Ooh; I love kids. They're great with a satay sauce. You mean 'do I have children?' My friend J____ and I are going to adopt a little girl from the slums of Peru. We shall call her 'Evita' and she will be our very own diva. I really like children because I can give them back to their parents when they cry, crap or cough up their milk and cookies.
7. Brothers/Sisters: I never watched this show. In real life, I have one of each.
8. Pets: I has a Monty.
9. List the 3-5 biggest things going on in your life:
Well, petrol prices are a bitch of thing, and we're having our three second Winter here, which when you live in a house without insulation is not fun. My hair was cold this morning. It was 5c. What's with that? There's a surf competition on Sunday, but just looking at water makes me cold. I'll go in it, but I'm pretty sure it'll be the quickest surf you'll ever see. I got invited to some social stuff this weekend, which is really very nice because I had a deliberately anti-social weekend just gone, but I'm watching my phone because any day now my sister is going to call with some bad news about her friend, and I'm going to hop on a plane to just kind of be there for her. Other than that, I don't have much to report. I'm supposed to play touch football again next week. That's not very big really. This is all very fascinating isn't it? Next question.
10) What did you go to school for? Well, initially, it was because I was five and that's what you're meant to do. I don't remember being asked what I wanted to do. Invariably the answer would have been something about going to outerspace or watching Gilligan's Island. After that I kind of stayed because it gave me something to do all day and it made the school holidays more like a holiday. When I got to high school I kept going to school because if I didn't I'd get detentions for wagging, and then once I was old enough to leave I couldn't be bothered because that would mean I'd have to work. And that should be put off for as long as humanly possible.
This is why I went to university, and then I stayed on for some more, and then I got a scholarship and went to the US to university, so I really didn't have to get a job. When I came home I finished that degree and took a year off to teach, decided that the whole job thing didn't suit me very much and found myself another scholarship and went back to university. I never really got past the university lifestyle: jeans, black clothes, wanky black-rimmed glasses.
And then I got a job at a university. See question 4.
11) Parents?: I have some. How else do you think I got here?
Grant Wood's American Gothic:
J____ and J____ are in Brisbane, and other friends are in Sydney, which is about 1400 kilometres South of here. I know a fair few people there, having spent most of my life there, and they're located everywhere from Castle Hill to Cromer Heights, and once K____ actually tells me where she lives, I'll know that too. (Smirk) M____ is in Croatia: N____ is in Dubai...I know some folks in the States...oh there's people all over really.
- Ratings:mmmn: cold
- Soundtrack:G Love and Special Sauce
It has come to my attention that my cactus garden does not in fact contain any cactus. Rather, it is comprised entirely of succulents, a fact which pleases me to no end because the word 'succulent' rolls off the lips in a much nicer way than 'cactus'.
The word 'cactus' has various uses, from being used to describe a car, team or person as completely useless ('she's cactus mate') or the word accompanying a particularly vigourous vomit: caaaactus.
The first part of the word caaaaaaac is the sound one makes when beginning to vomit: it is sometimes the beginnings of a loud cracking burp which ordinarily would be satisfying, but in this case is a foreboding harbinger of the amount of air and velocity behind the vomit. The us bit of the word is the sharp intake of breath after said vomitus eruptus, when you're frantically searching the toilet bowel or ground to see if a lung or other vital organ actually popped out by mistake.
'Succulent' on the other hand is a sexy word; a seductive adjective for a fat plant, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. Saying succulent makes your lips pucker up, plump and primed for a kiss. If someone were to see you say succulent but couldn't hear you, they'd be unsure whether you were blowing them a kiss or telling them to do something quite rude. Kind of like mouthing 'vacuum your car' to the person in traffic next to you. Go on; try it for yourself*. Looks like something rather offensive doesn't it?
Here's how dictionary.com describes 'succulent':
| 1. | full of juice; juicy. |
| 2. | rich in desirable qualities. |
| 3. | affording mental nourishment. |
| 4. | (of a plant) having fleshy and juicy tissues. |
See? Succulents: full of rich juicy goodness. As a result of this information, I also now know someone in town has a home brew tequila stash. I'll be sure to pop round sometime to sample the results of your simmering and stewing.
- Ratings:reading, for the most part
- Soundtrack:Missy Higgins
I am a:
Modern, Cool Nerd
74 % Nerd, 57% Geek, 43% Dork
For The Record:
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Geek, earning you the title of: Modern, Cool Nerd.
Nerds didn't use to be cool, but in the 90's that all changed. It used to be that, if you were a computer expert, you had to wear plaid or a pocket protector or suspenders or something that announced to the world that you couldn't quite fit in. Not anymore. Now, the intelligent and geeky have eked out for themselves a modicum of respect at the very least, and "geek is chic." The Modern, Cool Nerd is intelligent, knowledgable and always the person to call in a crisis (needing computer advice/an arcane bit of trivia knowledge). They are the one you want as your lifeline in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (or the one up there, winning the million bucks)!
* * *
As proof of this, I offer the following anecdotal evidence: last Friday night while watching Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof, I was pointing out some of the invented products appearing in that film which also appeared in Pulp Fiction et al, when my brother texted me from a trivia night in Sydney with half a dozen questions his team didn't know the answers to...additionally, I use terms like et al in my blog, am not discouraged by the appearance of words like miasma* in my reading material, and yesterday was involved in a long and intense discussion about storing files on hard drives, external hard drives and USB, and the eternal frustration that results from trying to keep them organised.
I saw this test on ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
drjon blog. And am continually frustrated by the fact I can't seem to insert livejournal user names in my blog without seeing formatting issues!
*A comment about my piece on Schapelle Corby and her Bogan Bunch family said it was all going quite well until I confused some of my readership with teh big wordz. Ha ha suffer! (Nerdlike sense of superiority, see.)
- Ratings:opening box of pressies
- Soundtrack:Jack Johnson CD
- Ratings:crisp! back to bed
- Soundtrack:nina simone (cool music to warm me up)
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