Boxing day. We're starting to pack boxes in preparation for mailing them down. Well, okay, Marjorie's started the packing, but I'm offering helpful critiques. Somehow we managed to accumulate quite a load of stuff, without ever buying much here. It's going to be at least 15 good-sized boxes to mail, in addition to our big suitcases and carry-ons.

Happily, while packing, Marjorie came across the pair of glasses I bought in Barcelona that disappeared during our last move and that we thought were gone forever. Hooray!

Yesterday we visited Jurong Bird Park for the last time. They have a new Lorikeet exhibit that's very cool. It's a huge aviary with hanging walkways connect five towers a hundred feet off the ground. Although, these birds won't be as exciting to us soon; they seem to be everywhere down in Melbourne.

Look at this sorry lot. A photo of my soccer team. This is obviously a pre-game photo, as there is no sweat, blood, or wheezing. We put all the young 'uns in the front row because it would take ten minutes for us geezers to straighten out our legs again after squatting like that.

Schmegeggie. I don't know if I have a Yiddish gene or what, but I've always loved Yiddish/Jewish jokes. I wonder if this runs in my family. Marjorie apparently has the gene too; this whole subject came up from a book she's reading, "Portnoy's Complaint", which also reminded her of similar jokes in "The Autograph Man".

These jokes, are each from Arthur Naiman's "Every Goy's Guide to Yiddish", except the last, which is from Leo Rosten's "The Joys of Yiddish". These pop up occasionally when you log into a Unix machine; they're part of the Unix "fortune" program.

A man goes to a tailor to try on a new custom-made suit. The first thing he notices is that the arms are too long.
"No problem," says the tailor. "Just bend them at the elbow and hold them out in front of you. See, now it's fine."
"But the collar is up around my ears!"
"It's nothing. Just hunch your back up a little ... no, a little more ... that's it."
"But I'm stepping on my cuffs!" the man cries in desperation.
"Nu, bend you knees a little to take up the slack. There you go. Look in the mirror -- the suit fits perfectly."
So, twisted like a pretzel, the man lurches out onto the street. Reba and Florence see him go by.
"Oh, look," says Reba, "that poor man!"
"Yes," says Florence, "but what a beautiful suit."

Murray and Esther, a middle-aged Jewish couple, are touring Chile. Murray just got a new camera and is constantly snapping pictures. One day, without knowing it, he photographs a top-secret military installation. In an instant, armed troops surround Murray and Esther and hustle them off to prison.
They can't prove who they are because they've left their passports in their hotel room. For three weeks they're tortured day and night to get them to name their contacts in the liberation movement. Finally they're hauled in front of a military court, charged with espionage, and sentenced to death.
The next morning they're lined up in front of the wall where they'll be shot. The sergeant in charge of the firing squad asks them if they have any lasts requests. Esther wants to know if she can call her daughter in Chicago. The sergeant says he's sorry, that's not possible, and turns to Murray.
"This is crazy!" Murray shouts. "We're not spies!" And he spits in the sergeants face.
"Murray!" Esther cries. "Please! Don't make trouble."

One of the oldest problems puzzled over in the Talmud is: "Why did God create goyim?" The generally accepted answer is "somebody has to buy retail."

Shamus, n. [Yiddish]:
A shamus is a guy who takes care of handyman tasks around the temple, and makes sure everything is in working order.
A shamus is at the bottom of the pecking order of synagog functionaries, and there's a joke about that:
A rabbi, to show his humility before God, cries out in the middle of a service, "Oh, Lord, I am nobody!" The cantor, not to be bested, also cries out, "Oh, Lord, I am nobody!"
The shamus, deeply moved, follows suit and cries, "Oh, Lord, I am nobody!" The rabbi turns to the cantor and says, "Look who thinks he's nobody!"

The first riddle I ever heard, one familiar to almost every Jewish child, was propounded to me by my father:
"What is it that hangs on the wall, is green, wet -- and whistles?"
I knit my brow and thought and thought, and in final perplexity gave up.
"A herring," said my father.
"A herring," I echoed. "A herring doesn't hang on the wall!"
"So hang it there."
"But a herring isn't green!" I protested.
"Paint it."
"But a herring isn't wet."
"If it's just painted it's still wet."
"But -- " I sputtered, summoning all my outrage, "-- a herring doesn't whistle!!"
"Right, " smiled my father. "I just put that in to make it hard."

Tuesday is my day of pain. For some reason, I always feel my Sunday soccer game on Tuesday, especially around lunch. I got compliments on how well I played, but we lost. The heat index beforehand, I heard, was 105. I felt my years, especially in the second half.

If Blogger is supposedly owned by Google now, why is there no way for me to search our archive of past blogs? The Google site itself doesn't even index them. Strange, but they DO seem to be archived on MSN.

We had our final Singapore games night last night. For diarist reasons, in attendance were Ken, Nora, Matt, Kim, Flip, Karen, and Loretta. We'll miss the old crowd. It was a lot of fun.

Last night we saw the the Tiger Lilies. I spent the show sitting there trying to characterize them. It's pretty much a Tom Waits meets Tim Burton meets Charles Dickens meets Monty Python meets Shane MacGowan sort of vaudeville show. Really bizarre and wonderful. Apart from the theatrics, it was quite amazing musically too.

Immigrants always seem to know more about the politics of their adopted countries than the locals do. Well, we didn't learn too much about Singapore's, probably due to the lack of a debating opposition. But Marjorie has charged ahead in learning about Australia's, to the point of impressing an Australian we met recently. Me, I can name only the president, and not tell you much else.

That is, before today. I'm actually familiar with a guy who will soon be running for parliament -- Peter Garrett, the former front man for Midnight Oil. By all accounts his election will be uncontested.

I saw them, phoo, must've been back in 1989 or so, at Visage in Orlando. I have only three recollections from the show:

1. I sold an extra ticket, that I bought for $12, outside before the show for $22.
2. Peter Garrett stopped the show for a minute or so to explain a bit about the Aboriginal rights issue, his pet project.
3. It was hot as blazes, and he kept flinging cups of water into the grateful crowd.

Based on #2 and #3, I think he may be an okay guy.

Greetings, greetings fellow stargazers! Yesterday Venus passed between the Earth and the Sun. As the last time this happened was 1882, no living person had ever seen it before.

Ostensibly, all it looks like is a tiny black dot on a big orange one. This is probably why I don't own a telescope -- unless you own a Hubble, all you'll get to see is tiny dots, or if you're lucky, slightly larger fuzzy dots, all while you're out in the cold getting bitten by mosquitos. One can easily find much better eye candy on-line.

I'll still probably get a telescope someday. There's something appealing about self-directing your search, and witnessing things first-hand.

But astronomy is a feast for the mind, not the eyes. What was amazing about the Venus transit was not that we could witness it, but that we could predict it with such accuracy, and know that it is not a harbinger of doom, but just a coincidental syzygy. Knowing that Venus is only a little smaller than Earth, we can, for a moment, try to grasp the immensity of the Sun.

Part of me regrets that we're not moving to Australia's capital, Canberra. While by most accounts it is a whirling pit of despair, they do do a lot of astronomy that I would love to be a part of.

Not much has been happening as you can tell by the lack of blog entries. I had to work Saturday (our first real demo), and we spent Sunday just bumming around the pool. I feel like I should write about something, but what?

I know! I'll tell you of my secret life... as a woman.

The Virtual Tourist web site is a respository for people's travel photos, stories, and tips. You can include a picture of yourself if you like, and many people do. On any given day you can browse the pictures of everyone whose birthday is that day, or you can just browse by country or whoever's logged on.

There were some complaints about losers using the site as a place to try to chat up women. So a few years back I created a female persona there, just to see what sort of responses I would get. I Googled on "blond" and "model" and came up with this picture (I've lost track of who she really is, but my apologies if you're reading this and it's you).

As a control in my experiment, I created a guy persona as well, using a picture of a guy slightly better looking than me.

I set their "birthdays" as the next day and waited. There were no surprises. The hot chick got about 20 birthday greetings to the hot dude's 10. One guy wrote about two pages worth, that was really rather creepy. To this day she still gets regular mail, while he gets almost none.

They both just had their "birthday"; this year, she got 8 greetings to his NONE.

It's all harmless enough, I guess; nobody's been persistent or harassing. It's been a little eye-opener, I guess, because I could see how this sort of thing could really get to you, if it happened all the time, or in person. I never respond. I thought I could but I really don't know how to "write women".

Here's a few samples of the mail she gets. Names have be omitted.

Hi

I am N----- from Bangalore, India.
i love to travel in India. Especially to places like Goa, Ooty, Kodaikanal,
Coorg and Kerala.
I am very familiar with these HOT destinations in India.
If you would want to travel to India, think of me.
Especially if you love trekking and deep forests
write to me on n-----@yahoo.com so that accessiblity will be easier.
I am 30 and i would love to be your friend.
love
N-----

HOT destinations! Woo!

Hi there..Hopin not offendin u. Actually, we have not had a chance to get to
know each other so far!. But while browsin virtualtourist web site, I have just
noticed that ur birthday is today. Hence, I said to my self, hey man..do
something useful..why don't u congratulate that woman on her spectacular day?.
I really do wish u a wonderfully great birthday filled with happiness & joy.
By the way, I'm M---- who likes to make friendship with nice ppl around the
Globe. I do have a broad spectrum of hobbies including traveling.
Above all, I neither fight nor bite..hehehe.
Pls. if u r willing to get to know each other, drop me a
line..Many thanks..
take care..
Best Wishes, M----

What every woman wants; someone who doesn't bite...

IT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY

Today is your special day,
so celebrate in your favourite way.
As time goes bye,
The years begin to fly.
But, you're only as old as you feel,
even when grey hair begins to yield.
Life is full of ups and downs
But, always wear a smile, instead of a frown.
Many wishes for days to come
and may your birthday be a very
extra special one.

I think this was supposed to be poetry.

Hi fellow(what's is the female gender for that term?) Floridian. I'm over here
in Venice a hop ,skip and ok a two hour ride from you. Saw your pic and wanted
to say hi and (now this is my male chauvinistic side ) WOW......beautiful
(refering to you of course)
Have a great day.....B---
p.s. I moved here last year from NJ....lol

This guy is a biker with a beard.

I saw your lovely picture and wanted to send you a greeting.

My name is [woman's name]. I have lived in Paris for the past 3 years surviving
as an artist/photograher and now I am back in the US in Virginia, taking care of
my dear cousins home and two beautiful dogs while he is in flying in Iraq.

I would love to visit Florida. Hope to hear from you:) You would make a
beautiful model to sketch and paint:)

Zoiks!

How did you spend your Vesak Day? We went to Mailboxes Etc and bought some boxes. I took a nice nap, then we went and had pizza at Casa Roma. On to the ex-pat board's Wednesday Night Drinking Club for a quick pint. All day we both had the Kinks' "Afternoon Tea" stuck in our heads.

We must have done something right, as today was full of good portents. I got my first nibble on a job, and have an interview set up for the day after we land. We got our application to set up a mailbox down there to send stuff to, and it looks like it will be no problem. And at the local grocery store, Marjorie found the beer that was our staple back in Atlanta, Bass, that we'd actually resorted to smuggling in on a few occasions

Ewwww. We discovered tonight that at some point in the last month or so we squished a gecko in the door jamb of our bedroom door. He ended up rather, uh, Picasso-esque. We named this one "Abstract Art".

And in case you're wondering, the person responsible for gecko cleanup in this house is ME.

The search is on. This weekend I'm going to start applying for jobs in Melbourne. The part I hate is dealing with headhunters (recruiters, I mean). With rare exceptions, they are slime. It is in their interest for you to get a job, yes, but all of their profit comes out of the difference between what the company's willing to pay and what you're willing to accept. So, while they work hard to find you a job, they are always trying to rip you off. But, sometimes it's the only way to get a job. If you go to any of the various job sites, 95% of the postings are from recruiters. And the jobs they list there never really exist, either; they are just to entice you to call them. Each recruiter has just a small changing pool of jobs he knows about that he will try to sell you on. (I say "he" because I've yet to see a female recruiter. I'm sure they exist, but are rare. Is it because women have a more evolved sense of ethics that they don't survive in the recruiting field?)

This one time in Atlanta I was contacted by a really strange recruiter who would call me at all hours of the day and night, and who finally convinced me to come visit him at his office way up in Alpharetta. I told him I definitely didn't want to work in that area, but that didn't stop him from springing an interview on me during my visit, with an Alpharetta company he was in contact with. So I gave an impromptu interview -- a good one, I might add; it wasn't really the company's fault -- and then emailed the recruiter that night telling him I didn't want the job and to stop sending my resume out; I didn't want to do business with anyone who so completely ignored my wishes. He ended up leaving a pissy little message on my answering machine about it, that I wish I had digitized; it was hilarious, in a creepy sort of way.

But what's really worrying me this time is the process of interviewing. Melbournians are notoriously outgoing but unpretentious, while I am notoriously quiet but cocky. My attitude seems to work well with American companies, but I'm going to have to vary my approach a bit down there, I think.

I'm also at a delicate stage in my career advancement, where people are going to want to put me in charge of stuff. Well, stuff I can handle; I just don't want to be in charge of people. I don't like managing at all, and have steadfastly avoided ever learning any presentation software like PowerPoint. I can handle heading up a team of a few people, but only if I can keep my hands in the technical stuff. My plan for making more money is by being worth the price of several other techies, but many companies think that throwing enough cheap young coders at a problem is a workable solution. Fortunately there are more and more who have wised up. We shall see.

Jane, get me off this crazy thing. I'm training my replacement, so he's using my computer. I've been given a Mac portable as a replacement. My boss thinks that I would love Macs if I had to use one for long enough.

Instead I think, how can people stand these things? Why are they considered so easy to use? I can't figure it out. I mean, I know that once you've learned one operating system, you're pretty much indoctrinated, and all you're going to see if you switch OSes are the things that are lacking. But I've been able to get practically NOTHING to run on this p.o.s. None of my Java applications will pop up windows. FOP just hangs. I can find no decent text editor -- BBEdit, which is supposed to be great, won't even let you page down. Moronic! I hate the dumbed-down one-button mouse. I hate the lack of keystroke equivalents for most things. I hate the limited keyboard (you have to hold down a function key to hit page up or down, home, or end). I hate the lack of a consistent way to switch between separate windows of an applications. I
can't even find a way to create a text file in a directory except from within an application. I hate how icons in the system tray jump up and down to get your attention.

The fonts are nice, though.

We celebrated our second anniversary tonight; a very low-key affair, just a nice dinner at home. Watched the season three debut of Six Feet Under; what gives? All the tension they built up at the end of last season just went "poof".

Oh, and woo hoo! Passed my Java certification exam. It was hard. Multiple choice, but often more than one of the choices was correct, and you had to get all of them correct for it to count. I swear I thought I was blowing it, halfway through, and that I'd wasted the money. Ended up getting 47 out of 61 questions right, or 77% (52% is considered a passing grade).

I'm scheduled to take a Java Certification Exam tomorrow, so I'm up late studying such thrilling topics as RandomAccessFile invocation parameters and how to instantiate Threads.

While on the subject of 'boring', here's the report from Sunday's game. I continue my offensive onslaught from fullback:

We had the better of the 1st half and scored after a knockdown from Gimson was chested into the goal by Mark S. A fairly even 2nd half in possession but we had many chances to bury them with at least 4-5 clear cut chances. They equalised when a free kick was chipped into the path of their nippy stirker to slot it pass me. After a series of disgracful finishing from us , we won it with the last kick of the game when Kelvin chipped the out-rushing keeper from outside the box.

Next week I'm going to try to score with my hips or butt.

Another thing we're looking forward to doing after we move is taking some classes. Like many of the things on our other this, this isn't necessarily something we're prevented from doing here; it's just that with a new beginning and (hopefully) more money, it seems more possible. And it's also a good way to meet people.

I plan on continuing Japanese, and maybe doing some writing workshops. Marjorie wants more Spanish and photography. Together we may do cooking and scuba diving. Oh, and dog obedience, of course.

We took a vow the other night to never again go six months without taking some sort of class that interests us. Unlike my nail biting/neck cracking vow, let's hope we can stick by this one.

On another note, go see Shrek 2. Side-splittingly funny.

Three cheers. Another forum I'm on has a thread going about remarkable experiences. Here's what I posted:

This is the first thing that came to mind as a "remarkable experience". It was just something I was lucky enough to witness.

I was working at Kennedy Space Center -- must've been about 1992 -- and had seen my share of shuttle (and rocket) launches. Landings, however, had always been done out in California at Edwards Air Force Base. They had built a landing strip at KSC, but had yet to use it, except for landing the special airliner that carries the shuttle back from California.

On a day when the shuttle was scheduled to land in Edwards, I was at work as usual. Word started spreading around the building that, due to a weather pattern approaching California, they were going to land the shuttle, that day, right outside our building!

Everyone filed out at the appropriate time, and waiting in the parking lot that was pretty much right across the street from the landing strip. The funny thing was, no one knew which way to look. We knew it would be coming from the west, but also that it would have to circle a few times to lose speed. So eyes were pointed in every direction.

Finally, someone spotted it, directly overhead, so high up that you could barely see it. Everyone cheered, for the first time of three. We watched it begin to bank into its turn.

Two minutes or so later, the double sonic boom hit us -- BOOM! BOOM! Car alarms went off, and everyone cheered again. It pulled a descending curve over our parking lot, and we could begin to see details on the shuttle itself, as its jet fighter escorts pulled up alongside.

But to everyone's dismay, just before it was to do its final, unimaginably steep descent towards the landing strip, it disappeared behind a cloud bank. We were going to miss the landing! It was hard to tell just how thick the clouds were, and where they stopped. Finally, just as the shuttle was leveling off from its descent, it burst MAJESTICALLY out of its cloud bank, almost directly towards us, and everyone went nuts cheering, one more time! Not that the astronauts could possibly hear us; it was just an unbridled outburst of joy amongst a bunch of space geeks. Finally it dipped below the trees across the road and made its landing. We all went back to work with big stupid grins on our faces.

Yeah, we watch, so what? We've both decided that if Fantasia gets voted off American Idol, we're never watching the show again. The girl's got some pipes.

Singapore Idol starts in two weeks or so. I'm all aquiver. No, really, it's going to be the biggest thing here, ever. I think it will be a hoot, in a train-wreck sort of way. A friend describes Singapore as the worst music town on the planet, and it's hard to argue. But they do love their karaoke, and that's right up Idol's alley. People are already camping out for the audition, I think.

Things we can't wait to buy, own, or otherwise acquire once we move:

Washer and DRYER.

Big refrigerator.

Car.

Dog.

NEW CLOTHES.

Comfy computer chair.

Comfy matress.

High quality sheets and comforter.

MORE CLOTHES.

Coffee maker.

Cookbooks.

Kitchen appliances.

Art.

Magazine subscriptions.

TIVO or its equivalent.

All our stuff from Atlanta.

Their food is to die for. Our favorite Thai restaurant, Diandin Leluk, is unfortunately situated in the Golden Mile complex.

Two weeks ago, the highway behind it collapsed, forcing evacuation of the building.

Today, it was evacuated again -- for supposedly unrelated reasons -- after the building started shaking due to an earthquake across the water in Sumatra. No one else in town seemed to feel a thing, myself included.

One might never want to go near the place again. But only if one hadn't ever tried their green curry soup.

Serves us right. I only knew fifteen minutes beforehand. Marjorie knew all along, but figured if it was a Kevin Smith movie, it couldn't be all bad. The point is, we both knew going in to see Jersey Girl that it starred Ben Affleck, and we went anyway. We got what we deserved.