she was very, very bad

I reluctantly took it upon myself to organise an end-of-year lunch for my workgroup. I sent out an email informing everyone of the date and proceeded to slap myself on the back for a job efficiently done. I had succeeded in giving people the celebration they wanted, but without the fancy dress and secret santa from last year..... or so I thought.

Apparently, the best way to encourage anti-social mathematicians/statisticians to attend events is to provide a theme. And lo, I've been instructed to organise a secret santa crap fest.

This is what I have written on the official invite:

Those participating in Secret Santa should bring their gifts to the meeting. Please don't spend more than $15. Gifts will be distributed randomly. That is, they will not be bought for specific people. Wikipedia informs me that this is more correctly known as "Give-a-Gift".

I haven't sent these instructions yet, which means that there's still time for me to add "but I'll understand if you want to call it Give-a-Fuck instead."

Must behave..... losing secret powers of self-control..... mwa ha ha ha!!!!!

and when she was bad...

People in my workgroup have been asked to write stuff about themselves and their work for a new website promoting our centre. In response to "information about yourself" I originally wrote:

I work as a research associate in conjunction with a medical institute. I am involved with improving the quality and safety of patient care through better clinical audit processes and we are trying to achieve this goal by developing procedures for better data acquisition, analysis and utilisation.

Prior to joining the Bayesian statistics group, I was a mathematics and statistics lecturer, and my research considered problems in combinatorics.

Outside work, I am an aspiring artist and the proud mother to two beautiful and remarkably intelligent cats.

I was proud that I'd kept things relatively professional until the last sentence. This morning I received an email saying that my response was inadequate because I didn't talk *about* myself. This is what I sent back:

• I'll be having my first art exhibition in January 2010. The website with my paintings is XXX, but you probably won't want to include a link to it because I mostly paint nudes.
• I'm usually more comfortable around animals than humans. :) Despite that, I'm a bleeding-heart left winger, who's strongly interested in the rights of refugees, queer and transgendered people, etc etc.
• Onto my second marriage, because I like to excel at everything I do.
• I hate almost all forms of exercise, although rock-climbing can be fun.
• Some of my favourite musicians/bands are Jimi Hendrix, Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Lydia Lunch, The Doors.
• I admire Giovanni Falcone, Paolo Borsellino, Henry Rollins and Annie Sprinkle. Do NOT google Annie Sprinkle at work - she's a former porn-star turned artist/activist.
• I grew up on the Gold Coast, avoiding the beach most of the time for fear of getting a tan.

I haven't heard back.

San Francisco photos

Check out Jamie's curly muffins!

A meeting of great minds and their humans.

Wattyl they think of next?

Nerds in their natural environment

silly wabbit

The end of our vacation was made horribly apparent by the need to return to work and shop for groceries. Our preferred brand of unbleached, recycled toilet paper was unavailable. Like moths to a solar-powered light, we were drawn to "EcoPly". Closer inspection revealed that only the inner layer of this 3-ply toilet paper was made from recycled material. It was almost worth buying it just so I could say "EcoPly? My arse!" after every poo.

Anyway, James got a call from a charity tonight. He had me in stitches when he said "since you haven't bothered me in a year, let's make it $150". What a charmer!!

travel diary: Friday 20th November

On my aimless wanderings around San Francisco, I managed to pick up a hobo who proceeded to act as my guide and sycophant, averaging at around $1/compliment.

While chatting about the 13 hour flight to Australia, he confided that he couldn't stand being confined for so long because he's a "necrophiliac" and needs his privacy. I'm pretty sure he meant nymphomaniac, but let's not split hairs. Either way, privacy would be important.

By the end of the day, I'd been hooted and hollered at by many an amorous fella. My larger bottom seemed to be much appreciated by "men of colour".

That night, I went on a start-up crawl with James and his friend Matt. The mood at these start-up companies was decidedly white nerd, with a top note of Asian. Did anyone ask me to shake my arse? No!! It was like they knew that I couldn't program or make them money. I did, however, play guitar hero in the Dropbox office.

In case you're wondering, these internet nerd types really do have lots of games'n'shit in their offices. The most extreme example was an office with table tennis, guitar hero, flying fox, scooters and go-carts.

It's not just the wine that made this funny

In an effort to eliminate the contraception-related pigmentation on my forehead, I've resorted to buying expensive cosmetics. A part of me (my brain, I believe) thinks that maybe it's a scam, but beh and sneh... right?

Anyway... while researching my moisturiser, I came across this claim:

Clinically proven to make you look up to 4 years younger in just one month.

Sweet baby Jesus!! I laughed my fucking arse off. Technically their claim is valid, cos it's unlikely that anyone would look significantly older after a month. But let's just take this at face value, so to speak.... how the hell did they come up with that figure of four years?

Woman in glasses and white coat: Ma'am, have you been using the product twice a day for a month?
Optimist: Yes.
WIGAWC: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, how old does this woman look? Be honest....

Can you imagine the standard deviations on those results?

two and a half nerds

I received some advertising in the mail today inviting me to David Jones to learn the "skill of successful gift giving". Surely no one needs to be told stuff like "no one likes an Indian giver". Man... I put this shit on the top of my WTF? list. I'm awarding it top place, right above Brittney Spears wearing that little microphone at concerts. I don't give a fuck that she mimes, but take off the tiny performance placebo.

Anyway, tomorrow I fly out to San Francisco with James and his friend/conspirator. They're going to work while I cruise the Castro.

There must be a German word for this emotion

Lying in bed the other night, I couldn't help but notice my rotund tummy. I decided that it was sage to pee on a stick to set my mind at rest. It didn't work, and the neighbours looked confused yet slightly aroused.

Back inside the flat, James suggested that a pregnancy test might be more appropriate. About 3 minutes later, I was greatly relieved to learn that I was not "with child", "in the family way" or "fucked in all senses of the word".

But what was this other, simulataneous feeling? Disappointment? Anger? If I wasn't pregnant, I must just be..... FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUU!!!!!

so good I had to share, but not before covering it with girl germs

Timmy sent me a link to this illuminating page on bogans. I laughed out loud when I read that the "holy trinity of bogan" is air, water and sound pollution.

poorly acted farce

Let me tell you a true story. Only the names and eye colours have been changed to protect the.... I want to say "innocent", but I'm more concerned about myself.

The players

• Maria: Renaissance woman
  
• Amelie: Cute French girl
• Sensei: Older, slightly aggressive bear

Scene 1

Maria was diligently working when Amelie rushed back into their office crying. Between sobs, Amelie explained that Sensei had launched an unprovoked attack upon her character, calling her rude and stupid.

Although slightly uncomfortable with the display of human emotions, Maria sought to comfort the usually bubbly gamine.

"You can't worry too much about these things. Sensei is notoriously fiesty."

"She's always hated me. I can tell. I don't want to sound up myself, but everyone I met on the weekend loved me," explained Amelie.

Maria wondered if perhaps Amelie was confusing love with sex.

Scene 2

The next day, Maria returned to work. Sensei had always been rather fond of Maria, and vice versa, but now Maria feared that things would become awkward. Had Sensei lost the plot?

When Amelie arrived, the effects of the previous day's events were no longer apparent. She was cuter and Frencher than ever before and she was happily chirping about the music festival she had attended the previous weekend. Her only lowlight was the time it took for her hair to be braided.

"The lady took so long, I just burst into tears because I was missing a band I wanted to see," explained Amelie.

A pattern was beginning to emerge...

LMFAO

I think my family might be on the verge of another meltdown. It happens every couple of years or so... something to do with the moon being in the second house and whatnot. This time Mum's severed ties with her oldest friend and is refusing to sign a blood transfusion consent form for a minor operation she's having next week. So.... yeah.... it's a miracle that I'm so well-adjusted. Can't say the same about their cats.

On a happier note, what's the fucking deal with renovation shows? To be fair, the one I saw tonight was called "Room for Improvement", so I suppose I should award them points for honesty, if that mural is anything to go by.

And finally, it's already hard enough to sort the wheat from the bullshit on the Internet without learning that there really is a five year old battling cancer who wants to receive Christmas cards. Why must people fuck with my brain like this?

gold coast bulletin

Our current ant infestation means that we've got hundreds of hungry mouths to feed. The little fuckers keep bringing home puppies for us to look after.

As the ants gorged on a buttery residue left on the kitchen bench, I suddenly panicked at the thought that they might all get fat. I don't have the time to help them get back into shape. It's bad enough that we've got to find the money to put them all through school.

But enough of my little main men... James recently finished serving on the jury for a rape trial. Since it was alleged that the defendant forced his penis into the victim's mouth and later inserted his fingers into her vagina, he was charged with two counts of rape. Upon hearing this, the power of Christ compelled me to launch into a Count (from Sesame Street) impersonation. James claimed that this was my least tasteful joke. He's obviously forgetting the practical joke involving a poo sandwich.

ONE count of rape!
TWO counts of rape!

Do you ever get that weird feeling that you're being watched? James says that it's normal for the audience to look at you when you give a presentation. I dunno...