Give Roger a hug

Which might refer to the dashing Roger Moore - as in the above photo, but really I mean let's all celebrate the return of my computer (Roger) and its joyous reuniting with the external hard drive (Moore).
Looks like it will be another night of staying up too late, oh to have some self restraint and be a morning person.

What price dignity?

The thing about shoe gazing when you walk along the street is that you often notice unpleasantness. Like the human? turd I saw on Moray Place the other week, although you would notice it anyway, it smelt horrendous. The flip side of this is that you sometimes see good stuff. Then you get the tension, do I pick the good item up and look like a vagrant? Or do I walk on by and risk missing out on something real special? And if the good thing is money, how little should you be willing to stoop for? Does it depend on business of the street? If you are likely to be seen by anyone you know? Or does the fiscal incentive outweigh all other concerns?
I'm sad to say, I have realised it is all about the money for me. I was compelled to stop at the side of George Street, in the middle of town, to pick up 10c. Pathetic. But then the next day I felt like it all was panning out. I was walking up Tennyson street, shuffling and staring at the ground as I usually do & lo! A crisp $20 begging to go towards paying for the DVD splurge of the other day. Or the DVD splurge of today (damn you trade me) $10 for the second Persuaders set. I hope Roger Moore will be wearing lots of knitwear, getting back to his modelling roots.
So anyway, we have established my dignity costs approximately 10c if anyone is interested.

Outmoded adjectives

I stayed up too late last night, I was watching ancient television series again. The premise for the episode I was watching was rather funny: a woman was hypnotised, and told to believe she was in love with the main character on the show. Her emotions and pulse were registered and transmitted by a silver locket bestowed upon her by the nefarious enemies of our hero. Of course the hapless woman was told that it came from her "love interest".
Anyway, the way the woman was told she was attracted to the hero was quite hilarious. "Look at this picture. Isn't he handsome?" and the kicker for me - "isn't he MANLY?".
How long has it been since anyone was able to say that word with a straight face? It's so meaningless isn't it? Look at the table, isn't it table like? See the way it is rectangular and has four legs (anything other than that design would be effete). Manly is right up there with calling an action "awefully white of you...old chap". I'm not even sure what characteristics we can glean from it? Resolution? Intelligence? Integrity? Y Chromosome?
Never mind, worked well enough on the character on the show.

I love expanding my word power

When 70s parties happen

evidently people stand around like they are modelling.
Here is a picture from the series UFO, purchased in a weak moment today. Can't wait to see that episode.

Overheard in Dunedin II

A little back story. I walked into the Salvation Army op shop on Princes Street, planning to get me a few good old fashioned bargains, and if I should happen to profit from them on trade me who's to speak of it again? I entered to overhear some of the most deliciously trashy conversations I have heard in a long time. Some woman trying to organise a bicyle because she's lost her license for 6 months, a heated chat about a complaint lodged against one of the staff...well, I was entranced. And then, like manna from heaven, a beautiful argument between staff members. One of whom, a tired and murky looking man, was being admonished by a particularly shrewish woman. "Why did you go out there, I told you to stay here!" "But I was picking up the donations, so no-one would..." "I don't care, you were supposed to stay here and mind the counter. I expect to come back and find you sparkling!"
I'd never seen anyone less likely to sparkle, even under less trying circumstances.

Trouble in the love nest

A shattering stroke of violence disrupted my flat today, murder. Murder most foul. If I were that way inclined I would say murder most fowl, but that might cheepen the post. Our beautiful blue carpet has been marred, one of the cats caught a bird and splayed feathers all down the hallway and through the lounge. Not quite so lovely, eh?
Naturally both animals looked innocent, which lends me to believe they are both guilty as sin about something or other, even if not the bird. And if it were one of them, what was the bird? A sparrow perhaps? It was hard to tell from the feathers - which were rather worse for the wear. How did the cat enter the building, did someone let it in especially? Was it even one of ours? They are pretty lazy, did they just invite friends over for a pot luck? I would not put it past them.