Spank Me Pink

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

People lie in bed at night and think up this stuff... really?

One of you is lying

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady make note of this:
One of you is lying.

Dorothy Parker "Unfortunate Coincidence"

From a girlfriend who, rumor has it, died a virgin... I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark here & speculate that some man really did a number on her. *sigh* It's funny 'cause it's true.

'twas 2 days before the night before Christmas...

Well slap me with a piece of pickled herring and call me Hamlet - it's time to ditch this popsicle stand and head off on Christmas holiday adventures! Absoloutely no time to wax lyrical so I will impart following festive figuration and take my leave.

I wish you all a magical & meaningful Christmas (or 'holiday', if you will) and I'll see you in 2006! (surely this will be the year they introduce flying cars & robots that do your laundry ala The Jetsons... hmmmm)

Crash Boom Bang

My poor laptop threw a bit of a pink fit today... well actually it's been experiencing more of a gradual decline, but apparently Matilda finally did something which caught someone's attention @ work - gotta love the bloody network police. Anyway I've been in pretty effective denial about the impending crisis, so when the IT guy asked me to hand over the errant machine this morning, I did a frantic double take.

I beg your pardon? You want to go through the contents of my laptop? Holy Mother of God... ummm, give me a minute.

Now it's not like I have a veritable cache of porn, or detailed bomb-making instructions hidden within my personal files, but I do have a heck of a lot of musical bits and bytes, and an Outlook folder chocka block with hard copy evidence of a fairly healthy email habit. As you can probably guess, the former wasn't entirely appropriated legally & as for the latter... well quite a few illegal happenings are probably described within... *ahem*

But back to my mission (impossible) - 5 minutes to make my hard drive PG rated or I'm disavowed and thigh high in the stinky brown stuff. Lucky for me, pressure is one of my good friends, so I put on the 'woman possessed' head & went to work - programs flew out the door, folders were unceremoniously dumped, music culled, memory wiped, history erased, shots censored, hidden files ferreted out & flayed... someone tell Arnie there's a new Terminator in town baby.

Can't say I'm super pleased to have lost all that digital booty, but at least I'm fairly confident I won't be hauled in to face some rather tricky questions when I return from hols. Lesson learnt: buy 2nd hard drive immediately and regularly backup naughty stuff to non-'you have discretion over my wages' related location!

Bad, bad Leroy Brown

It's show & tell Tuesday... & I remembered! Bonus points for me!

This week's find comes from a friend of a friend of a friend, who is into online gaming. I don't really 'get' the concept of online gaming, but I 'get' that it's a world populated by a large number of very frustrated, aggressive, lonely, sad & obsessive males, who perhaps don't have that much luck in the 3D world. I also believe poor Leroy & his mates may be prime examples of this demographic.

So without further ado, my vote for America's Funniest [Virtual] Home Video 2005: Leroy Screws Up.

The Owl & The Pussycat

Happy Last-Monday-Before-Christmas everyone! My stellar good mood persists and I'm quite enchanted by the new layer of white stuff outside... 'I'm dreaming of a White Christmas, with every Christmas card [blog] I write...' I've said it before & I'll say it again - Bing was the blue eyed, light footed, honey-voiced crooner of an uncle I never had. I grant you Uncle Bruno used to do his fair share of impromptu vaudeville at the odd family event, but it doesn't necessarily follow that comparisons with Going My Way were made... The Country Girl maybe...

So I found a bit of a soul sista in blog-land this morning, Decopuss. She writes a nifty little blog called Koroviev's Stunts, in which she jots down 'gorgeous words I've [she's] read or heard'. What a utterly simple but totally stupendous idea! Watch as I now appropriate it for my own wicked purposes...

Yes, Monday's blog shall henceforth be dedicated to gorgeous words I stumble across. I'm always frustrated I can't recall many of my favourite passages, poems or lines of prose on command, so hopefully this little exercise may help to solidify a couple in my (in)active memory.

Drumroll please:

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Edward Lear "The Owl and the Pussycat"

Top #5 Funeral Songs

I forget where these (very US-centric) definitions came from, but as summer festival season heats up back home, I'm reminded of my persistent & largely unfounded feelings of inferiority around these clowns. What's with that huh? I suppose I've got to respect the level of commitment - I mean I know it's probably a sign of middle-aged myopia setting in, but I really can't imagine sacrificing my nice hair in solidarity with, or to somehow emulate, the latest freaking angst ridden 5 piece post grunge/punk/indie/garage band out of Reykjavik (which is not to say I won't download their entire new CD & dance around my living room to it's tourtured melodies like a banshee possessed). Phff, just imagine what these disenfranchised darlings could achieve if they used their petulance powers for good and not evil...

Oh Lord, could I be more smirky?! Forget I said anything at all! Apparently in the last 30 minutes I've undergone a complete frontal lobotomy & confused my own insecurities with those of a valid & relevant sub-culture. Live & let live I say. And anyway, I think those Zelda haircuts are really quite becoming on the young lasses.

Pop Nerds

Identification:
Pop Nerds have an abiding love of everything canonically agreed upon as great by their peers, none of whom they respect. Their own taste is unimpeachable, and everyone else's is dead wrong. They know more about bands they hate than you know about your favorite band. They know what label Jesus was on. They are torn between hating Rob Sheffield (US music critic) and secretly wanting to be him. They read books about books about music. Pop nerds are much more likely to be male than female, because boys have a far greater tendency toward wasting their lives in the pursuit of meaningless trivia. They fancy themselves as John Cusack from High Fidelity, but really they're a perfect mixture of Jack Black and the effeminate bald guy. They can be tough to spot in the wild, because they never leave their houses. The most effective way to identify a pop nerd, should you encounter one in the wild, is to ask him if he's heard of a made-up band. While any non-liar with nothing to prove would simply say 'no', any nerd worth his salt would try to bullshit their way out of it.

Musical Taste: They all like The Velvet Underground, unless you accuse them of liking the Velvet Underground, in which case they bust out their contingency plan about what a pathetic poseur Lou Reed was.
How to Tame a Pop Nerd: Say something bad about a specific rock critic. Walk up to a pop nerd at the vinyl bin of your local ultra-hip record store and say 'Greil Marcus is an idiot.' The pop nerd will take it as a cue to explain why he himself knows a million times more about everything than Greil Marcus ever will.
Benefits of Friendship: Access to record collections that often border on obscenely decadent.
Drawbacks of Friendship: Never, ever mention anything about music to them, unless you're agreeing with them or intentionally setting them up to win an argument and boost their ego. In the rare instances in which a pop nerd becomes interested in a girl, he will ultimately fail in the pursuit and you'll have to hear about it. He'll make you listen to heinous crap that he has tricked himself into considering great, like Scritti Politti and Einsturzende Neubauten (which he can spell without looking it up).

Indie Fans

Identification:
Although far more subdued and tasteful than emo kids, indie nerds still clothe themselves in thrift-shop vestments, dishevel their hair, and slap on an annoyingly knowing smirk for maximum Malkmosity. They hate every band anyone else has heard of and hate every band they haven't heard. They're allowed to like a band that another indie fan likes, provided that they heard it before the other guy did. They loved The Shins until Garden State came out. They don't dance, unless They're dancing to hilariously ironic C+C Music Factory tunes (their music of choice, of course, is to be taken seriously, and should not be marred with the savage iniquity of dance). They have radio shows on college stations, and they do NOT take requests. They share a genus with the pop nerd, but with a narrower focus, an active social life, and a girlfriend. After fake punks, they're the most likely hipster breed to be in a terrible band. But the indie fan's band isn't 'terrible', it's 'avant-garde'.

Musical Taste: The latest 7-inch from Bumfuck Records.
How to Tame an Indie Fan: When he's raving about some great new band, pretend you haven't heard of them, but that they sound really interesting to you. They love that. Let them make you a mix tape, and be prepared to give notes on it the next day.
Benefits of Friendship: Science has yet to reveal a compelling answer to this mystery.
Drawbacks of Friendship: Being friends with an indie fan is the only reason you'll ever have to hear the words 'Pitchfork Media' not immediately preceded by 'boy do I ever hate'. Also, be prepared for some ill-conceived rants on 'selling out' and 'authenticity'.

Brunette Ambition

Had a KILLER night last night. F-it, why must I always hook up just before I ship out? I'm not imagining this now - this is the FIFTH time I've started dating someone within weeks of relocating... internationally. Say it with me now people: self sabotage is not self sufficiency.

Anywho met an architectural school full of fabulous funsters, took my booty on a distinguished tour of duty around the dance floor, toasted everything down to the light fittings and awoke this morning (or afternoon actually) with mucho, mucho more respect for the big 'Hus. Houston, there may be signs of life on this peninsular after all. Over... damn it!

In other shocking news, after 25 shimmery, sun bleached years - I got my hair dyed dark brown yesterday. What the F was I thinking?! Actually I know exactly what I was thinking - I'd rather die than become predictable. My hairdresser innocently enough asked if I'd like blonde highlights again when I plonked myself down in the chair, and that little switch in my head just FLICKED. Again?! No thank you very much. I really am a stubborn twat about these things sometimes... ok, most of the time.

I know it's a very superficial change, but it's really taking some getting used to. A little less than minty-fresh, I stumbled from bed this morning and into the bathroom for a pint of water (hangover emergency procedure 1#: liquid injection... stat) and gave the mirror a cursory glance through half opened panda eyes AND ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK! Took me a good 30 seconds to:
a) recognise that it was indeed me blearily peering back, &
b) remember the events of the last 24 hours (hehehe, good times, good times)
I'll tell you f-ing what though - I was awake after that.

On the upside I think I've officially disproved that nasty little rumor about blondes having more fun...

Sun is Shining

Now why can't every December day be like today? I travelled to work a little later this morning and was blessed with cool, crisp winter sunlight the entire journey (yup, the whole 1 1/2hrs!). It may not sound like much but this is the 1st time it's happened in about 2 months now and I'm a little amazed at the difference it makes to my mood. I was practically bouncing up the street on the last leg of my commute; cheeks just starting to harden in the sharp wind, watercolour sky clear for miles. Sure I was cold, but in that invigorating 'I'm alive' kinda way.

Lately when I leave for work at 7 and set back again at 4 it's pitch black outside, and as a result, strange things are starting to manifest themselves in my physical health/state of mind. I'm aware it's a fairly normal reaction - especially for us Southern Hemisphere kids - and I hear a bunch of those guys in the white coats even gave it a nifty name: Seasonal Defective Disorder (SAD). But whilst knowing I'm not some total freak of nature does help somewhat, the pretty label still doesn't put the pounce back in the Piece. So to speak.

Screw it, what do I care today?! Today is glorious! So glorious in fact, that I felt inspired to do something on the train this morning that I haven't done for quite awhile... tag someone with a random line of consciousness. It started a few years back when I was 1st tagged myself. I was sitting on a park bench minding my bees-wax in the wider Bris-vegas area, when I spotted a paper napkin next to me. On it was written, 'Your name feels thinner in my mouth than your hair'.

I fell in love then and there, and ever since I've been leaving my own little observational oddities here and there in the hope that somebody else will be as tickled as I was. So what was my contribution to humankind's cosmic quest for self-relevance this morning? Something like:

Criss-crossing wires dissect the dawn into neat parallelograms, deep as they are perfunctory.

Tag, you're it.

Testing 1, 2

Argh! How useless am I?! I initiate a show and tell day only last week and already I've forgotten!

Righty-o then, as penance for my blogging-bungle I'm going to share one of my favourite new discoveries. Not quite sure how to introduce it, but I practically guarantee it will provide you with at least 10 minutes of pure procrastination perfection.

So go forth good people and let them sing it for you!

'Tis the season to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la

Jingle my bells - I LOVE CHRISTMAS!!

I swear I don't get all these people who moan about the holiday season - I am a glutton for the tree & the carols & the cards & the decorations & the mulled wine & the food & the parties & the presents & the wrapping paper & the stupid earrings & the silly hats & Santa & the elves & the nativity scenes & the Christmas lights & the TV specials & mass & Christmas letters from people you haven't heard from since last Christmas & the crowded shopping streets & EVERYTHING!

Could have something to do with the relative lack of holiday-related responsibilities I suppose (i.e. people to feed, multitudinous bills to pay, house to clean, etc.). No dependents + family on another continent = fairly duty free celebrations. But that's not entirely true - I loved the holiday when I was at home & lumbered with all the accompanying chores as well. I'm just coco for Christmas!

In fact when I was young (ok, so like up until 3 years ago) I used to listen to Christmas carols all year round. Have finally convinced the other gals in the office to let me fire up the holiday tunes today and I'm going off. I swear I haven't been this productive in weeks ;-) Ahhh! Am even using emoticons! Perhaps I do need to tone down the Chrissy Spirit just a touch...

(a few bottles of the season's finest brew)

Oh and just a quick aside - why my Mother thinks it is essential to inform me of every little conversation she has with each & every tradesman that enters the house (in detail!), and then neglects to tell me cousin Emma is having a baby NEXT MONTH, is just beyond me. That woman's priorities really scare me sometimes. Thank God for those above mentioned Christmas letters!

JJJ

Who misses Triple J? I miss Triple J!


Sure I stream it over my computer at work whenever I can, but given the time difference I generally only catch either end of the graveyard shift. Certainly more quality than your standard pop-sy poop stations over here, but still not the cream of The J's programming genius.

Whacked it on this morning and am almost weeping with the awesomeness of it all (yes, I had to invent a new word to encapsulate the greatness of The J's... not a particularly ingenious word, but a expansion of the lexicon nonetheless) - a live Foo Fighters gig followed by a full album broadcast of Radiohead's OK Computer. I ask you, does radio get any better than this? Hell no. (alright, so I'm fond of the odd rhetorical question)

Got a feeling my current hunger for tasty morsels of musical deliciousness may have something to do with Maz calling last night from a Maximo Park concert across the channel. Have I mentioned lately how much I'm hanging out for February?

Weighty Issues

Heaven help me, I don't believe I'm actually about to type this. I'm going on a diet. Yes the world is in turmoil, things are exploding in England, people are rioting in Australia, voting in Chile, starving in Zimbabewe, being shot in China, icecaps melting at both ends, the ground shaking in PNG, Michael Jackson collapsing in Bahrain... and I have the audacity, no self-indulgence, to devote useful minutes to polluting the internet with more useless babble. Clap, clap, BPP.

Let me explain. On Friday I received a Christmas parcel from my mother, God bless her insanely over-compensating self, full to the brim with sugar baked goodness... half of which I have managed to consume in the intervening 2 days out of sheer boredom and a touch of pure gluttony. Gotta watch that - strong tendency towards emotional eating - what would our mate Oprah say? Tsk, tsk, tsk.

But the problem's a little heftier really (haha). Suffice to say my circumstances this year have delivered a lifestyle change I wasn't fully equipped to deal with. For example: how the hell does one go jogging when it's negative degrees outside and snowing? I still can't wrap my head around the absurd notion of partaking in strenuous physical activity ensconced in a wooly layer of scarves, gloves and beanies - it's a world gone mad!

Add to that the fact that on a weekly basis I move almost exclusively between work and the kollegiet, and honestly - neither location is populated by people I particularly care about impressing. Now isn't that a scary realisation? Turns out I need an audience to perform to or I 'let myself go', as Women's Day circa 1950 would phrase it. Best one figures these things out relatively young I suppose... but jeepers Betty - holy shallowness.

Anyway I'll spare you the figures, but let's just say Goodyear will soon be calling to request signage space. Yeah sure stuff still fits, but not in that BPP-ilicious way it used to, and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend the remainder of my twenty-somethings with thigh friction you could unintentionally ignite stray kindling with. I will not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of... my waist (apologies to Mr. Thomas).

I need to find motivation which is independent of an external party (that's right - no more ex-boyfriends BPP!) & I think I have it. My jeans, or more accurately, my recently departed jeans. Ahhh, we had a beautiful symbiotic relationship - I looked hot in the jeans, the jeans looked hot on me - until a fateful Wheel of Goon incident last month when I took a spill down a couple of stairs (thanks to some very illegal interference from the competition - you know who you are Chubb!). Sadly, and unbeknownst to me at the time, the result was a rather large rip under the left buttock which exposed my frilly pink knickers to the world for the rest of the evening (cla-say). Compounding the hilarity was the fact that the guys I was partying with were totally confused the next day when I finally discovered the tear - they were all like, "Oh, we thought that was meant to be there - like a cheeky peek-a-boo thing." Pa-leeeese boys - do I look like a Janet Jackson wanna be?

Now while I realise the average pair of jeans cannot be reasonably expected to sustain violent PRI's (although my tried & true Lee duds have for many a year - bugger it, serves me right for branching out and experimenting with a bloody Danish label), I don't think the extra jubbily helped. So, as I'm certainly not going to be giving up the Wheel of Goon shenanigans, the jubbily will just have to go in order to avoid further such embarrassment.

And there you have it. My 1 point plan for healthy living, mental wellbeing and world domination. It's written here so that when I feel tempted to stray, I can revisit and been soothed but the cool, calm intellect of it all.

The One

I know it's naughty posting links to videos 'cause they're a pain in the butt to view @ work (I'm assuming ya'll clock the odd hour or 2 skipping through blogs like me... no?), but this is hall of fame stuff and the content most likely won't get you fired immediately should the boss happen to choose this moment to walk on by. Damn the man, view the link!

Disclaimer: the author takes no responsibility for your future job security should decided to stick around and check out some of the other killer videos on Google Video of the Day.

Legalese

Asinine Danish law of the week

It's illegal here to honk your horn unless something suddenly leaps out in front of you.

Driving past a friend of yours? Crank the window down and wave silently. Shhhh. Denmark is an 'inside voice' country. . .

Gangsta Love

Maybe it's the onset of the holiday season, but I'm feeling all sappy & sentimental today. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your toes... awww, Bing does it for me every time. Anyway the target of my gooey Home for the Holidays Hallmark made-for-tv Suzanne Summers love-fest, is a couple of gals who rode out 05 with me. Hell they grabbed that steer by the horns and made 'im their bitch.

I know everybody says this, but I really have the most amazing group of friends. They are da bomb (but like the flour variety - this here be a peace lovin' blog). Love their sexy, smart, sensational & slightly more than a little dysfunctional asses off. Needless to say since I bailed on my peeps in da hood, to go represent in the big D, shiznits been tougha. But I don't be tripping 'cause my home girls gots my back in the UK and we be kickin it fool. You down? (get yo pimp on here beotches!)

So even though they'll never see this blog, I'm sending a big S-H-to-tha-izzout fizzout to my lay-dees Wello (diving off Santorini on our island hop in August) & Maz (supporting my water pipe habit in Istanbul this April). Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay (couldn't have perpetrated it wit out you doggs).

purrrrr

Oh yeah, I'm the cat that got the cream this morning. A delicious little mystery has crept in from the black icy night and folded me in it's smoky ribbons. I feel... fluid; all arcs and currents and ghostly submerging touches. purrrrrr.

I awoke from a golden syrup-swimming dream (of a long forgotten sideways glance, recently pivoted) at a gossamer hour, to an unfamiliar metronome of breath - tugging me back to another bed, another man, another Arcadia. My own rhythm caught, knife sharp, out of time as I foggily tried to catalogue my space. He was there. Where he shouldn't have been. What. As is my habit, distraction provoked unconscious movement; physical tangents mirroring their internal partners. Waves in a puddle, escaping in inevitable measured concentricity, my feet carry me away. He exhales a soft rebuke - surprise, embarrassment, calculated defense... it's behind me anyway, trailing in my wake.

Edge found, I retreat back, insentient as ever. He's not there. The room stands in nonchalant order, mocking my candy red vacillations. Upright and uncertain, scanning the sheets for clues, my eyelids soon drag me willingly down again. Resolution never had an ally in my pre-dawn self.

So was it just the last slick oily film of fantasy, reflecting and refracting rainbow spectrums, or was he there? And why? Oh I get the banal biology - but I mean why? Was he coaxed across by the equally obscure machinations of his sub-conscious, was it merely a cynical maneuver or was it that ephemeral third possibility.

No, on second thoughts it doesn't matter. I don't care. I don't even really care if he was actually there or not. Our relationship dictates that we will never discuss it, and my real pleasure lies in the sublime pause anyhow - the gap between suggestion and certainty.

These moments are cloaks of faith to me. Warm and untouchable connections. I lay them carefully in my dowry chest and smile. Wow, I really feel beautiful today.

Show & Tell Tuesday

I have a long page of links I've collected from my wanders in cyber space & it's getting quite unruly. I'm sure you probably do something similar - you find something too cool to skip past and forget forever, but you're not quite certain what you want to do with the information yet either, so you just cut & paste the link somewhere to look at later.

Anyway I've decided the perfect solution to my ever expanding database of drivel, is to drop a few into this blog so that I may benevolently share my marvelous new knowledge with the world (expect the Nobel people will be contacting me shortly with notification of my humanitarian award). Call it a dash of trivia-seasoning if you will.

The inaugural link in this series comes from an organisation which sponsors and co-ordinates an international fundraising event called 'Talk Like A Pirate Day'. Don't ask me why, but a particularly random day at Leggoland (Denmark's gift to the world) inspired a mate and I to adopt a fair bit of pirate parlance in our conversations, and against all odds, it's stuck fast for the past 6 months or so... arrrr, like a feisty pirate! Quite obviously then, we are both looking forward to the 19th of September with an unprecidented degree of eager anticipation - just 287 days to go me hearties!

You gots to chill

I'm afraid this is going to be an argh blog. I'm tired and stressed and depressed and grumpy and podgy and bored and annoyed and sad and homesick and lonely and ill and bitchy and smelly and apathetic and overwhelmed and stricken by guilt and self-loathing and xenophobic and uninspired and pitiful and ARGH!

Just endured the last of my Trainee Learning Activity weekends for the year and if the facilitators' aim was to suck the will to live from deep down in my toes, right up and out through my nose - well jolly good job chaps. How is it possible that a group of people I don't particularly identify with, nor really respect (or like most of the time!) can make me feel this crap about myself? This bites the big one.

So how to hell do you decide if something is simply not you, or if you need to be making some serious changes to incorporate this new 'world view' in your life? Look, I'm know I'm not perfect and I'd like to think I'm open to continual personal development, but I've got to hang on to something unique don't I - some core 'brown-pie-piece-ishness'?

Geeze, could I be more obtuse? Ok, literally what happened was that we were subjected to a very long, very tedious goal setting session where we were asked to articulate in some detail, our goals & objectives for the next 5-10 years, and practical steps we are/will take towards achieving them. Not such a bad idea, I hear you saying. Hmmm maybe not, but long term planning has never really been my thing, and sharing my somewhat modest/nebulous aspirations with a room full of over achieving corporate cult members is, just straight out, my version of Hades.

It doesn't help either, that I've been stuck with a particularly unrewarding position this year, whilst others have had very positive experiences. I don't begrudge them that at all (the mini-Trumps are probably making much better use of the opportunity than I ever could) but when it came to everyone's favourite hour - the 'experience sharing' session - I began to sound like the World's Greatest whinger.

Seriously, I've never cast myself as the 'Eeyore' type character before, but when I was suddenly confronted by a bunch of strangers berating me for my negative attitude yesterday - I had to see their point. I've hardly been Little Miss Sunshine for awhile now. How can I let one particularly average work year turn me into this person I hate? It's not like it's been all bad... if fact some bits have been quite extraordinary!

Which brings me back to my original question: assuming the problem is a product of my incompatibility with AIESEC's organisational culture - is this trough giving me the uncomfortable poke I need in order to adjust my attitudes OR is it simply, just not meant to be? Time will tell I guess, but meanwhile I have come to 4 conclusions which, if nothing else, were very cathartic for me to put down in print.

1. I do not fit the AIESEC mold and should prefer to have nothing further to do with them after the 1st of February.

2. Denmark is a lovely country, but not one that I will ever choose to live in again after the 1st of February.

3. I will not say another negative word about either my traineeship or Denmark until I leave on the 1st of February - at which time I shall thorougly & honestly write it all down in the post-exchange survey... with relish!

4. I can not wait until the 1st of February.

Killer Squirrels

Had to add this simply for the title alone.

Thursday, 1 December 2005, 18:14 GMT (BBC)
Russian squirrel pack 'kills dog'

Squirrels have bitten to death a stray dog which was barking at them in a Russian park, local media report.

Passers-by were too late to stop the attack by the black squirrels in a village in the far east, which reportedly lasted about a minute. They are said to have scampered off at the sight of humans, some carrying pieces of flesh.

A pine cone shortage may have led the squirrels to seek other food sources, although scientists are sceptical.

The attack was reported in parkland in the centre of Lazo, a village in the Maritime Territory, and was witnessed by three local people. A "big" stray dog was nosing about the trees and barking at squirrels hiding in branches overhead when a number of them suddenly descended and attacked, reports say.

"They literally gutted the dog," local journalist Anastasia Trubitsina told Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper. "When they saw the men, they scattered in different directions, taking pieces of their kill away with them."

Mikhail Tiyunov, a scientist in the region, said it was the first he had ever heard of such an attack. While squirrels without sources of protein might attack birds' nests, he said, the idea of them chewing a dog to death was "absurd". "If it really happened, things must be pretty bad in our forests," he added.

A Lazo man who called himself only Mikhalich said there had been "no pine cones at all" in the local forests this year. "The little beasts are agitated because they have nothing to eat," he added.

Black Friday

Well it's been a busy day for state executioners around the world - 3 death penalties (that we know of - those North Korean & Chinese kids can be quite sneaky about who they knock off) have been carried out in Singapore, America & Saudi Arabia. Amongst the executed was one young Australian lad, Nguyen Tuong Van, who had been caught in Singapore on route back to Australia, with cocaine strapped to his chest. Apparently he was driven to take this one off smuggling gig in an effort to pay off a large debt his twin brother had incurred. Incredibly stupid and incredibly sad.

For what it's worth, I was quite pleased with the level of public support that was expressed for Van in Australia. There's a fine line I guess you've got to tread in this kind of situation, between respecting the sovereign laws of a country and how it chooses to administer justice, and the rights of your own citizens in the face of a punishment which goes so starkly against widely held standards of morality. In the end there was nothing the Australian Government could have responsibly done to prevent Singapore from carrying out the execution, but I do hope that each and every official and citizen of Singapore got our message: the death penalty is ethically wrong and will never be considered an acceptable sentence in this country.

As for the USA's 1000th execution... well one could say so much about the gross hypocrisy inherent in the continued existence of the death penalty in a country which has self-appointed itself moral crusader of the world. To tell you the truth though, the whole American government/legislative system makes me so sick, I'm not up to commenting about it rationally. Perhaps I shouldn't be so concerned they're killing themselves off at a rate of thousands now... (of course that's crap because it's generally the poor, marginalised & disadvantaged who pay for the immoral decisions of the ruling classes, but you get what I'm saying yeah)

Texas was not the state that carried out Friday's execution by lethal injection (that was North Carolina), nevertheless they do administer the death penalty and I found a link to their Department of Criminal Justice site where you can see a list of all executed prisoners and their last words. A morbid but interesting read.

Lusty Lucy

I believe in Hell. I believe the universe had to find a balance for Julie Andrews.

Have been meaning to read Dante's Divine Comedy for quite some time and I think this little quiz may have just given me the final shove I needed. Apparently I'm headed for Level 2 in the great pits (description below), which I have to admit I'm quite happy about. Sounds like I'll have some wicked company.

Level 2
You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.