Photo Friday "Modern"

...and only 4 days late...

The Forbidden Palace, Beijing

Golden Moments (and not those in the pool)

Now, I am the Queen of Foot-in-Mouth - something goes in my head the same moment it comes out of my mouth. So it is with a sense of vindication that I present the Top 3 Olympic Commentator Slips...

3. [Seven Commentator - Swimming] "... Hackett has pulled away in the last 50 minutes." (metres anyone?)

2. [Seven Commentator - Volleyball] "...and a great spike from Pothead... erm, Pottharst." (Beach volleyball)

1. [Olympic Announcer - Diving] "...and the gold medal, representing Australia....... Loudy Tourky!" (except Loudy had won diving bronze, Chantelle Newberry the gold)
[Seven Commentator] "...it doesn't matter, she knows who she is."

China portraits...

... to (attempt to) capture the chinese spirit...

B&W Beijing

Will no doubt get around to one day sifting through my thousands of photos from Japan, to do something similar.

Henri

Usefilm has a new photography project up - "Henri", to celebrate the awesome works of the late Henri Cartier-Bresson. Here goes my pallid attempt at emulation...

Kinki's Usefilm portfolio

Shingo-alert!

For readers in Japan: If you've ever wanted to see Shingo-kun go head to head with a big fella wrapped in a nappy, then DO NOT miss Mecha Ike this Saturday night.

Nicole asked me if I ever missed Japan and here are two reasons why the answer is a resounding SHIT YEAH: Shingo and Sumo.

(oh, and very happy that 35degrees got a mention on the SMAP Freebird Forum). We have now officially made it.

Love is the Drug

Right. To counter the mournful recollections of the previous thread (already a tonne of toons for me to go and pilfer from Kazaa - thanks!), let's go with the "Love" song that affects you the most. Any Celine Dion or Mariah Carey gets automatically deleted. Wakatta?

Mine would be "Gorecki" by Lamb;

"If I should die this very moment
I wouldn't fear
For I've never known completeness
Like being here
Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you
Still my heart this moment
Or it might burst

Could we stay right here
Until the end of time
'Til the earth stops turning
Wanna love you 'til the seas run dry
I've found the one I've waited for"

Just beautiful...

...and two songs hellishly high on soppy-factor: "Never Saw Blue Like That" by Shawn Colvin and "I Love You" by Sarah McLachlan. Can't sing any of them without making myself cry (or others by having to listen to me sing).

Over to you guys.

Home away from Home

Far East in Melbourne South

Sad Songs say so much...

OK. Reader response required, people.

What is your all-time most gut-wrenching "one.more.lyric.and.its. game.on.with.the.hot.water.and.razorblades" sad song?

I was wandering to work this morning, with MD in tow, listening to a collection of stuff I nicked from Kazaa last summer, and that gifted southern wench, Tori Amos spilled out of the airways with "Can't see New York" and dammit if the tears. just. inched. out. of. the. corner. of. my. eye (ahem, just slightly). It's one of those songs you can't possibly listen to without feeling something tragic...

"and you said
you would find me even in death
and you said
you'd find me
but i can't see new york
as i'm circling down
through white cloud, falling out
and i know his lips are warm
but i can't seem to find my way out
my way out i can't see.
of this hunting ground..."

Doesn't that kill ya? She is the Divine Priestess of finding the most viscerally evocative way to put things.

Other top contenders for me are: "Stan" (Eminem), "It Can't Rain all the Time" (Jane Siberry), "Gloomy Sunday" (Billie Holiday) and "Putting the Damage On" (Tori again)

Now...over to you...

Every cloud has a pink lining...

After a so-so day, caught up in the palaver-inducing, mind-numbing, corporate-australian roulette-game (without the chips. or the whiskey), it's nice to come home to a sunset...

This is a sunset

...and a NEW PAIR OF FRED FLARE EARRINGS!

These are my new PINK earrings! Don't you love them?

Thanks to Pinku, my sunny pink friend from the far-east, the delightful boys from Fred Flare have sent everyone who participated in her Secret Pinku Earring Swap a delicious pair of baby-pink hearts. Swoon.

You've got to applaud the savvy enterpreneurship of the boys at Fred Flare. An entire demographic of young (OK. I speak for myself here) girls, many of them with websites, poised to give them a plug. Personally, having no enterpreunerial (or speeling) skills what. so. ever, I'm always happy to celebrate it (and the fact they relish in the fashions of the '80s aint all bad either). So here you go. Wanton plug for Fred Flare. Fashion ejaculate of the 21st Century. I LOVE my earrings, boys. You both rock.

First day of skewl

Far be it for me to get wanton amusement from Husband, but I walked into the study last night, to be welcomed by this sight...

Yes, it was Husband's first day at (official) work in 5 months today, and doesn't his excitement show? Everything in it's place. Orderly. Tidy. The only thing missing is his paper-bag lunch and a goodbye kiss from mum.

Not sure about the wedding ring being in the briefcase, rather than on the finger, but I guess there are worse places for it.

Does anyone actually have a cuter husband?

Bummer

So the Hockeyroos got slashed and messed up by the Germans. Not. Happy. Jan. Matt's cousin, Carmel (aka "Bakurski #20") got a major look-in, but unhappily, too much of one. She plays defence, so the more you see of
Bakurski #20, the more the ball is not in Australia's merry corner of the world.

Sigh. At least their uniforms weren't as crap as Japan's.

The Devil on the 13th Floor

I used to think the Japanese were impossibly superstitious, what with their bean throwing to cast out evil spirits and their insistence that nothing come in groups of 4, because it, you know, symbolises death and all.

But I'd forgotten about one of the west's endearing little quirks - buildings with no Floor 13. It took me ages to work out why I only have to walk up one floor to go from the 12th Floor to the 14th...

Useless Trivia #1275613
Some say the superstition of bad-luck #13 comes from Judas Iscariot, the 13th apostle, who betrayed Jesus for some coin (30 of them, in fact) and a few flaming lamborghinis with Satan.

Others say it dates back to Norse mythology when Loki, the nigel-no-friends 13th guest crashed a piss-up of 12 gods in downtown Valhalla.

Those with a more "modern" perspective point to the ill-fated Apollo 13 as a source of their fear.

Useless Trivia #1275614
The irrational fear of the number 13 is "triskaidekaphobia" and fear of Friday the 13th is called "Paraskevidekatriaphobia" aka "whatthefuckisjasondoinginthetoolshedagain".

Useless Trivia #1275615
* More than 80 percent of high-rises don't have a 13th floor.
* Many airports have no 13th gate and airplanes have no 13th aisle (does that mean Japanese airplanes have no 4th aisle???)
* Many cities do not have a 13th Street or a 13th Avenue.
* The number 13 is omitted from the Italian national lottery.
* In Florence, the house between number 12 and 14 is addressed as 12 and a half.
* If you have 13 letters in your name, go straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect your flaming lamborghini on the way down. You will have the devil's luck . Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy and Albert De Salvo all have 13 letters in their names.

As does my husband...

Photo Friday "Tranquility"

Out of context

This is one addiction I fundamentally don't get. I understand alcoholics, I understand men prancing around wearing girlie knickers, I understand people who have to take 5 showers a day, I even understand the chain-smoker's urge for just. one. more. cigarette. But this would have to be the most mind-bogglingly tedious activity ever to dirty this earth.

How could anyone be addicted to text messaging?

More weekly photo projects...

Theme Thursday "Shift"

Photo Friday "Perfection"

Blood, Sweat and Tears

(aka 26 things: the photographic scavenger hunt)

are up for all to see...

Kinki's 26 Things - July 2004

Barriers

Do you ever have one of those days where everything you do has a monumentous barrier in front of it? Where a difficult colleague, or a 2 hour drive home in peak traffic, or a beautiful husband who, with all the goodness in his heart, puts your stockings in the heavy-duty wash or an ISP that never works, pops up every now and then with a hearty "Helloooo! I'm still fucking here!"

Bah humbug - guess I'm just gonna have to load up ye ol' profession-elle photos from the wedding. It only took me 3 months, but people, I've had barriers (ahem... like my own procrastination...)

nijikai

When you get married, the idea is to milk the celebrations like a heiffer on speed. So it came to be that 40 of our gorgeous buddies descended upon Piccolo Mondo on Lygon Street for some old fashioned East meets West post-wedding-wedding shenanigans, also known as an infamous "nijikai" or "second party".

The night started with a princess-tantrum (I forgot the battery to my digital camera again) and ended with a princess-tantrum (3.30 a.m and I was sure I was going to die of hypothermia and/or a post-bevvy aneurysm waiting for a cab) but everything in between was sublime:

* Nick (our super-super-superstar Showcase Host) nailed his speech after grilling us on Friday night about our relationship;
* Everyone was stuffed full of fantastic italian food (kudos to Tony and Laura at Piccolo Mondo who took such good care of us - we couldn't have asked for a better venue or hosts);
* Our Ni-Ji-Keiki, a ten-tonne white chocolate profiterole monolith was easy on the eye and the palate;
* Taz won our "How many days have Kinki and McG been together" comp (only 4 days off with a guess of 1872); and
* no-one even minded being lined up and having their mugs trapped onto polaroid paper.
* (oh, and "Receiving a gazillion red roses from my beautiful husband" !!!! definitely the biggest highlight of the night.)

The piece-de-resistance however, was undoubtedly the post Ni-Ji-Kai (the "San-Ji-Kai"?) at Hollywood Karaoke on Bourke Street.

We knew it was the place to be when we walked in and 30 drunk Asians were lolling around the main karaoke stage. Ah, takes me back! For the more confidence-weary first-timers, we had a private booth. The menu was entirely in Chinese, the songs were a weird mish-mash (really different to the selections we were used to in Japan) and they served real alcohol - like Lemon Ruskis and Crownies, not that watery lemon-shu piss or Asahi Super-Crap.

"No, no, no - not succubus - succulents!

And it was a pretty good deal - $28 each for all you could sing karaoke (for us, that meant a 3 and a half hour marathon) and $28 worth of drinks. Granted, the drinks were expensive but we were already three sheets after the bevvies at the restaurant.

The best part of the night though, was realising how lucky we are to have such fantastic friends. My beautiful girlfriend Roz, even tore herself away from her newborn for a couple of hours to be there.

Discovering that half of these friends were latent rock-stars was just the bonus.

Ni Ji Kai Photo Gallery (c/- emergency disposable camera)