Centennial Park, Sydney, the view from the rug.
“Hey Josh, don’t look down yet but Liz just dropped her wallet. Kick it under the table while the others are still singing and we’ll stash it in the locker during nap time.”
The Evil Twin continues to fund her campaign for world domination. Birthday number 3, Friday 12 August, 2005.
In light of my previous mention, our illustrious ABC TV is currently showing a series entitled
We Can Be Heroes: Finding the Australian of The Year
When a program has a title that can make me smile, its already a winner.
I wholeheartedly recommend you go to the above website and spend some time getting to know the characters and – for those Norwegian and Japanese readers we seem to attract – while it may be difficult to comprehend the humour we call Australian when incorporating translation as well, I hope the treat of this program’s existence is not completely lost.
As Pat Mullins says: I may be disabled…but I can roll.
I just realised that yesterday was our Friday: Buried Bone Day. And well, one 36yr old Brendan Francis McMahon buried his bone in a way I don’t think Bec nor I imagined would fit so beautifully into our theme-of-the-day.
Which brings me to today, Saturday. Apparently, according to Jennifer, blogging on weekends is the new black. I am thrilled to be so cutting edge at something as opposed to my standard “what’s an ipod?” type existence.
Today is our Sports scandal day. I find this hard as, well, I could never ever watch ESPN, Fox Sports 1 through 12 or Channel Ten’s woeful Sports Tonight again and not even notice. Except I would miss the figure skating, which irritatingly only ever seems to be on at midnight, which is actually making me look forward to impersonating a cow and breastfeeding again.
I do wonder though, how World Championship Poker is considered a sport.
Anyway, I digress. Apparently headlines like this:
Clarke flat out as top order rocks
are scandalous to some. And opening pars such as this:
Australia were battling for survival in the third Test on Friday evening, having lost Justin Langer to a stroke of English brilliance before tea, then Ricky Ponting and Matthew Hayden after the break on
another compelling day of Ashes cricket.
can apparently bring tears to the eyes. While I become a cricket fan by default over summer (when it is all that is on Australian television and I have friends who can tell me stuff about the 1987 test series that basically makes me question a) how I ever met these people and b) how on earth did we become the dearest friends we have become) but when its cold, the heaters on and there are programs like We Could be Heroes or DNA to watch, the scandal is that cricket is on at all.
Lame I know. But its the best I can do.
I could say so much, but the story really speaks for itself.
But really, it makes Toby’s plight seem so much more, well, humane.