The Annual Four-Eyed Frenzy

The film festival total stands at a respectable (but not excessive) seventeen this year:

Friday, July 11

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6:15PM

Anita O'Day: The Life of a Jazz Singer

Sunday, July 13

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1:15PM

The Adventures of Robin Hood

Tuesday, July 15

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8:00PM

Respect Yourself: The Stax Records Story

Wednesday, July 16

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6:15PM

Blockade

Preceded by: Amateur Photographer

8:45PM

Taipei Story

Thursday, July 17

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4:00PM

Be Kind Rewind

Friday, July 18

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2:00PM

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr Hunter S. Thompson

4:15PM

Planet B-Boy

Saturday, July 19

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12:15PM

The Order of Myths

Sunday, July 20

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6:15PM

The Kid Brother

Monday, July 21

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4:30PM

Crazy Love

Wednesday, July 23

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6:30PM

I Think We're Alone Now

Friday, July 25

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6:30PM

The Cool School

Saturday, July 26

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5:00PM

Revue

Sunday, July 27

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1:15PM

The Red Balloon

Followed by: White Mane

6:15PM

Not Quite Hollywood

8:30PM

Anvil! The Story of Anvil

We are, as usual, heavy on 'documentaries about weird shit' (Tiffany's stalker! Obsessive abusive relationships! Propaganda films from behind the Iron Curtain! Ozploitation movies! The real Spinal Tap!) and 'vintage things you will never otherwise see on the big screen' (The Red Balloon, Errol Flynn's Robin Hood, Harold Lloyd's The Kid Brother). The Lloyd film also has the dubious honour of being Brent's media studies class field trip, which means I am the other supervisory adult trucking in from Otara on a bus with over 20 teenagers to watch a silent movie with an orchestra in a 1929-opulent orientalist movie palace. (By the way, follow that link. The panorama will blow your mind.) B assures me this whole trip is going to be totally fine. Naturally, I'm picturing that scene in The Wire season four, when Bunny takes his teen charges to the fancy restaurant and they all turn sour in an instant. (Yeah, I know, I tend to predict doom too much.)

Dixie

A few weeks ago I was telling Ben this story, and he was all 'why is this not on your blog?' and so... yeah. Here is the weirdest thing that happened to us during WOMAD weekend. We were driving on the outskirts of small-town New Plymouth at about 10pm, looking for our hotel. We're trucking along in the dark, and suddenly we see a tiny vehicle on the footpath to our left. As we come closer, we realise it's one of those mobility scooters that the elderly and handicapped use. Driving it is... basically the modern version of dust bowl migrant, with a wife-beater and a mullet, and on his vehicle is flying - I kid you not - a *full sized Confederate flag*. It was car-dealership-sized. I can't believe it didn't tip his scooter over.

The whole thing happened in a flash - it was so crazy it was almost like we hallucinated it, but there were four of us in the car. So... I have so many questions! I mean, when they say 'the south will rise again', do they mean *this* far south? And where did he even *get* a Confederate flag, and why would he be carrying it around with him in the dark on the outskirts of town, and... I mean, wow. Just wow.

I'm just twenty-two and I don't mind dying

It's not 'Who Do You Love?' but it is pretty damn awesome, nonetheless. RIP Bo.

From Whence it Sprang

I don't think I've ever explained the title of my blog, and thanks to the miracle of YouTube, you can see its inspiration. There are several in this series, but I particularly like Nancy's eye make-up and mugging in this version of the advertisement. They're all great, though.

OMG!

I have just realised that the main sample from Warren G's 'Regulate' is from Michael McDonald's 'Keep Forgettin''!

(You all knew this already, right? I'm fifteen years late? OK. As you were.)

Alert: I am about to say something positive about librarianship.

It's a red letter day! Sometimes, my job is not completely tedious. Sometimes, I get to search through public domain photographs for appropriate website illustrations. Sometimes, I find incredibly cool things of badassery, like this photo of a Black Panther in 1970 at the Lincoln Memorial. Thank you, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.

how you ain't gonna fuck? bitch I mean! I'm the GODdamn reason you in VIP or: feminism, hiphop, false consciousness, and my inconsistent principles

I am a bad feminist. Here is why I am a bad feminist: I am about to write a post in which I defend the indefensible. Here are six mainstream hiphop songs I love which are either partially or wholly... wrong. Wonderfully wrong.

Ludacris, 'Stand Up'



Why It's Wrong: it gives us our post title (unfortunately the video is censored so thoroughly that the 'new' first line of the verse makes no sense), which manages to encapsulate everything that's gross about the 'sex for goods' gender imbalance; the women are a giant cliche and all about their butts (and, to a lesser extent, their boobs); the lyrics encourage drunk girlfights.

Redeeming Qualities: the production is one giant BOMP of joy (thanks Kanye, I think); Ludacris is the flow equivalent of Lewis Black - angry and hilariously funny, often at his own expense; and the video contains giant things. Giant things rule.

Notorious B.I.G., 'Hypnotize'



Why It's Wrong: why *isn't* it wrong? Aggressive, scary, horribly violent and sexist, contains gratuitous Puff Daddy; the line about the girl tied up in the basement is fucking chilling; and, uh, the video is astonishingly stupid and contains dumbass interludes.

Redeeming Qualities: bassline, beat, and chorus, which ride roughshod over everything else and force me to love them.

Jay-Z, 'Girls, Girls, Girls'



Why It's Wrong: hmmmm. I can't possibly imagine what a feminist would have to object to in this song, can you? Jay-Z, the man with an adoring girl in every port, all of them waiting for him to turn up and reduce their entire beings to a couplet in his song; oh, and the casual racism is nice too.

Redeeming Qualities: the oldschool soul samples are pure delight; and I'm sorry, but Jay-Z is so fucking funny and inventive. I can't believe he makes the conceit of this song last as long as he does - every description is great! Apologies, my sisters. I sold you out.

Ol' Dirty Bastard, 'Got Your Money'



Why It's Wrong: erm, well, it's a song about pimping, general sexual exploitation, and threats of murdering women who don't come up with the cash. Oh dear.

Redeeming Qualities: ODB (RIP) is so completely ridiculous, grunty, and ranty that he undercuts his hateful lyrics at every turn (nothing is *less* sexy than Ol' Dirty saying 'sexy sexy sexy' - I tend to assume that he's like the 90s version of Screamin' Jay Hawkins or something); I have never laughed so much at a song as I have at this one; catchiest chorus ever thanks to Kelis; handclaps! Plus: bonus blaxploitation video is hilarious.

Justin Timberlake, Snoop Dogg, 'Signs'



Why It's Wrong: well, there are much, much worse Snoop songs. MUCH worse. This is just a generically sexist song, really: fickle hot girl won over by the cash-heavy gangsta, lots of scantily clad chicks in the video. However, that exchange where Snoop says 'you with your friend right? She ain't trying to bring over no men right?' has always struck me. Snoop, are you that challenged by the mere prospect of another dude at your party? Weird. Disturbing.

Redeeming Qualities: this Neptunes production job makes all human beings dance. It is a scientific fact. I challenge you to put this on at a party and see what happens. Also: Justin sings and dances; Uncle Charlie preaches; and Snoop does that thing he does with the laidback tone. It's pretty much pure love as soon as you hear the first 'Cupid don't fuck with me', and you never look back.

Ghostface Killah feat. Ne-Yo, 'Back Like That'



Why It's Wrong: hello, Ghostface? This is the double standard calling: I would like to let you know that you are a thoughtless, casual misogynist, because you cheated on her first, and she responded in kind, and now you're cutting off her finger to get the ring back and threatening her with 'my girl cousins, they gonna rock you!'? Dude, I gotta say, that's way uncool.

Redeeming Qualities: Pretty much everything else. Ne-Yo sings his little heart out on yet another catchy chorus with some old-school-soul-sampling production (I think there's a pattern emerging here for me); Ghostface gives us some interestingly rage-filled background to the whole sorry saga, because he is a fine storyteller; and I'm all about the random ranting at the end ('got my swagger back and all that!')


So, what have we learned? (Apart from 'never trust a female with no skills', of course.) I think we have learned that something which makes me dance or laugh has an enormous amount of leeway, and that storytelling trumps orthodoxy, and that, yes, I am a bad feminist. I'm not sure what to do about this, though...

Why Brent and I Are Thoroughly Ridiculous

In honour of Sonnet's List of Things She Calls Linus, I have made a list of all the things we call our dogs in the privacy of our own home. (Seriously, we are *this close* to being characters from Best in Show.)

Ellie's Nicknames

Elsinore
Ellsworth McGillicuddy
Ellington O'Shea
Elderberry

Vinnie's Nicknames

Vincent
Vindaloo
Vinsworth (a pattern is emerging here)
Little Gentleman (a tribute to Anchorman)

Top 10 Reasons Why The Pixies Still Rule, As Pondered on the Bus Home Yesterday

1. Black Francis, inevitably
2. Complete invisibility on commercial radio, so they are thereby guaranteed to avoid the edge-blurring sameness of classic rock oldies, forever and ever, amen
3. Kim Deal. Kim Deal. Kim Deal
4. Surf music guitar
5. Cod Espanol a la Peggy Hill
6. Loudness
7. Short songs. I cannot emphasise this enough. Leave them wanting more. Do you know how long 'Allison' is? One minute and seventeen goddamned seconds! Intro, verse, chorus, guitar solo, and they're OUT. I second that emotion!
8. Incest, incomprehensibility, and aliens
9. Singalongability
10. No image problems, because they didn't have one. David Lovering is the biggest dork-dresser of all time. And no one has ever given a fuck, and that is completely awesome

My Hero

Oh man, am I shamefully fucking late on this shit. For some reason Brent and I were overcome with some kind of weird tastefulness for the entire recent New Zealand run of this show on MTVNZ, and we didn't record it. Yet we managed to catch the reunion show and woooooowwwww. Yes, I too love New York. What a thoroughly horrendous, stupid, mean-spirited, crazy, wonderful woman she is.

Bless all Cantabrians

You know, I've said some pretty mean things about Christchurch in my life, and I feel ashamed of those mean things right now. Even if you hate the game and attendant hoopla more than life itself, this shit is pretty heartwarming on a basic human level. Thanks for your maturity, Cantabrians, because I was starting to think this whole country was pretty damned mean-spirited. And it turns out that no, it's not, and I can feel OK about us after all.

And shit, while I'm squeeing, let's take a moment to be happy about the Big Day Out. January 18, 2008: Arcade Fire, Dizzee Rascal, Bjork, LCD Soundsystem, The Clean, Paul Kelly, Billy Bragg, The Phoenix Foundation, SJD! Wahey! (Please, please, please let everyone I like be on the Green and Blue stages, in a row, without clashes... unlikely, but... please.)

And another thing: I got a Justin Timberlake ticket, thanks to the beneficence of my mother. I am ridiculously squee about it. I am also mentally fourteen years old.

It occurs to me with horrifying clarity that Chutes Too Narrow came out in 2004. Didn't it? Which means I forgot 'Saint Simon'. And, uh, I also really like that Phantom Planet song, 'Lonely Day'. Does this make me... an emo?

More Pointless Musical Ranting

Crap. It just occurred to me that I never finished my top 40 of the 90s, and Lawrence just asked the same crew to compile a 'top 20 of 2000-2004' - which, I must say, I found immensely more simple. I'm not sure why, as I'm a big, big fan of the Oughties so far, so you'd think I would have the same kind of crushing emotional burden. Perhaps it's the smaller scale, or my more mainstream/poptimist tastes this decade, or that there are some songs so huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge that they were impossible to ignore, or... I don't know. Anyway, I even managed to rank them! Which is unheard-of (and possibly inaccurate). Rules: it had to be released as a single; the ranking is subjective, as in 'my favourites', not objective, as in 'most important'; and I limited myself to one track per artist because otherwise there would be some unfair advantages to Jay-Z, Kanye, The White Stripes and the Super Furry Animals. Track list, 20-1:

Since I Left You - The Avalanches (The only flute sample on the list! Ethereal and joyous.)

No One Knows - Queens of the Stone Age (My favourite air-drumming song. Proof that I only like loud, hard stuff if if you can sing along and dance to it.)

Hate To Say I Told You So - The Hives (Ridiculously badass. How can this song rule so much when the riff is just one giant recycling project? I don't understand it.)

Trick Me - Kelis (Milkshake is more, uh, 'important', but I like this one better. 'Freedom to you has always been whoever landed on your dick...' That economical little guitar part makes me happy.)

What You Waiting For - Gwen Stefani (I am the only person I know who loves this song. The only person. I don't get it: that awesome metronome beat! Those Missing Persons vocal tics! The weird-ass synth-guitar attack at 1 minute 40 seconds! 'You're still a super-hot fe-male!' It's a fucking ridiculous, over-the-top, amazing, stoopid piece of work. Still not sick of it. And it's a hit song whose subject is being anxious about... having a hit song. Heh.)

I'll Be Around - Cee-Lo (Timbaland's verse is hilarious, and I could listen to Cee-Lo read the phone book. Plus how infectious is this production? Nice work, Tim.)

Envy - Ash (It would be any old Ash song, except for those girlie 'ooooh-ooooh-oooohs'. And it kicks ass!)

Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go!) - Garbage (The only great song they've done since about 1995? Well, maybe that's harsh, but that squelchy backing track, and the handclaps, and listen to the *bells*! The bells in the middle eight! Oh my god that's great.)

H to the Izzo - Jay-Z ('He who does not feel me is not real to me, therefore he doesn't exist. So poof! Vamoose, son of a bitch.' The best thing Michael Jackson's been involved with since 1983: that Kanye West is a clever man. This fought 'Girls, Girls, Girls' and '99 Problems' for the top spot - but hey, it's the anthem. Get your damn hands up.)

(Drawing) Rings Around the World - Super Furry Animals (It's droney *and* poppy! Eat your  heart out, Dandy Warhols! If you listen veeerrrrrry carefully towards the end, you can hear the New Zealand telephone-recording-lady saying 'please hold on while I try that extension'. It really is rings around the world!)

Rock Your Body - Justin Timberlake (Poor old Michael Jackson. Why can't he do this any more? Not being able to afford a Justin ticket this year is an everlasting regret...)

Listening for the Weather - Bic Runga (She seems to write perfect songs - melodies and lyrics - absolutely effortlessly. 'Busy with their starring roles in their own tragedies.' Every time she hits that high note in the chorus, I turn into mush.)

Groovejet (If This Ain't Love) - Spiller feat. Sophie Ellis-Bextor (I could listen to this on repeat for six straight hours. I bet someone has: one of the last gasps of ecstasy. I almost put Kylie's 'Love at First Sight' on this list, too, but thought it covered too much of the same ground.)

Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand (I don't know what I could say about this that someone else hasn't said. It's like some dance-rock mini-epic. With puns.)

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes (Isn't it kind of ridiculous that this mighty, mighty brick shithouse of a song and 'Hey Ya!' came out in the same year? What was in the water?)

All Falls Down - Kanye West feat. Syleena (This wins the 'which Kanye song?' battle because, well, fuck me if the catchy bugger doesn't say something sort of profound in three minutes forty-five seconds. 'They made us hate ourself and love they wealth.')

Something to Talk About - Badly Drawn Boy (Ahhhhhhh. This is so mindblowingly pretty. How does he *do* this?)

Do You Realize?? - The Flaming Lips (Yes. Yes, I am a dirty stinking hippy. Yes, I cried during The Flaming Lips' set at the Big Day Out. Inexplicably comforting, transcendent and beautiful.)

Work It - Missy Elliott (She and Timbaland together are just awe-inspiring. It's... a Blondie sample, and a chorus you actually can't sing along with because it's backwards, and the sound of an elephant, and some bleeps and bloops, and some jokes, and... all these things somehow combine to make something utterly wonderful and bizarre and danceable and silly.)

Hey Ya! - OutKast (If there's a bigger song this decade, I don't know what it could be. The crazy thing is that it's fucking *great* too. Every single part of it is a hook, somehow: there are handclaps and grunts and synth parts and backing vocals all creating this giant Catchy Monster of a track, and then the lead vocal is... so idiosyncratic and compelling. And that's before you even get to the 'breakdown', which will utterly destroy the dancefloor at any decent party. 'Lend me some sugar. I am your neighbour!' One of those songs which fades out and you're like 'where did it go? Can it be that short?')

Bubbling under, apart from those already mentioned:  'Gone Fishing', The Phoenix Foundation; 'Hot in Herre', Nelly; 'Clint Eastwood', Gorillaz; 'Don't Tell Me', Madonna; 'Imitation of Life'', REM; 'Crazy in Love', Beyonce; 'A Little Less Conversation', Elvis vs JXL;  'I See You Baby', Groove Armada; 'Pretty (Ugly Before), Elliott Smith; 'Toxic', Britney Spears (amazingly); 'Get the Party Started', Pink; 'Hurt', Johnny Cash; 'Northern Lights', Goldenhorse.

Reason 1387 to love The Muppets

I have a theory about The Muppets. Actually, I have several theories about The Muppets, but one of the most important is that their appeal lies partly in how obvious it is that they really, really love songs. All kinds of songs. They're like a big old mp3 player on shuffle: you don't know what's going to come out next. Music-hall, vaudeville, the Beatles, the Great American Songbook, Broadway, disco, soul, rock - they really have such a generous musical spirit. I credit them as a big part of my early musical education: who else would teach me about songs like 'Lydia the Tattooed Lady', or 'Lady of Spain'? And although they can make a song ridiculous like no one ever has (the Viking warship version of 'In the Navy' springs to mind), there is often a kind of beauty to that ridiculousness. Which brings me to this clip of Linda Ronstadt singing 'Blue Bayou' with Floyd, Janis, Animal, that hairy dude on the xylophone... and a delightful chorus of percussive frogs. I honestly think this is one of the prettiest versions of this song I've ever heard - and also the silliest, by some considerable margin. Kudos, Muppet Band!

Cheaters

Then clip two: the confrontation! The 'meeting with the client' takes place in the car park of a strip mall (natch). Joey Greco really comes into his own here, with a truly magnificent showing of fake tasteful sympathy, and an underlying (yet terribly obvious) desire to get the money-shot. He's like King Cockroach, with a scuttling film crew of sub-cockroaches. I really love the way the cheatee isn't acting emotionally enough for him, so he attempts to make her more upset by saying something lame about the cheater 'only being honest with his dog'. Way to be, Greco! The actual players in the drama follow the usual pattern: the cheater initially denies, then falls back on apology, then blame; the cheatees start off blaming him, but then predictably round on each other. This clip is a good one because it allows for a thoroughly undignified exit: gather up your wet laundry and carry it away, my friend! Note that Joey Greco hovers around the confrontation, twisting the knife wherever he can in an attempt to make everything more and more dramatic. I particularly like the way he gazes manfully after the car as it takes off: you can tell that he thinks he's looking rather heroic.

Cheaters

Let me share with you just a little bit of the joy that is Cheaters. Clip one: the set-up. Please note several Cheaters stalwarts: the music bed is always just a little too loud; there are always some 'tasty licks' from an electric guitar to underpin the hot mess to follow; Joey Greco starts off as a malevolent little cheeseball gremlin (don't worry, he will only get worse). Then there's the voiceover dialogue, which is so marvellously overwritten that it deserves its own parade. Never say 'dog' when you could use 'loyal canine'! Never say 'goes' when you could say 'proceeds to leave the area'! The call for more suckers is also wonderfully worded. 'Exercise your right to be informed': let us exploit you and say that we're helping you out! I also love the way the investigators are apparently 'licensed'. By whom?

Flight of the Conchords were just quoted on *Sportscenter*.

Stunned, meet mullet.

Literal LOLcat: yesterday, I made some spinach and feta muffins (well,
silverbeet and feta, actually, because the vege shop was out of
spinach, but that's incidental to the story). I left them to cool on a
plate on the kitchen worktop, covered with a tea towel, and Brent and
I went to visit my mother for a while. When we came back, my cat was
curled up on them, asleep. The integrity of the muffins was somewhat
compromised. I now have spinach and feta... coasters.

Man, all I seem to do on this blog is get tagged, lately. This is probably a sign that I should write more. Anyway, Marika sez:

Instructions: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. At the end of your blog, you need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!

OK, seven random facts about me.

1) I never won any prizes at school until sixth form, when I won the Sociology prize *and* the Sociology cup (yes, there was a Sociology cup. Why? I don't know). Unfortunately, at the prize-giving assembly, this necessitated two consecutive walks across the stage to accept the prizes, so I had to tear frantically down the stairs, across the floor in front of the stage, and up the other side at terrific speed. It rather undercut my immense 16 year old dignity. (Ironically, I have come to regard Sociology as a rather problematic, ahistorical, bean-counting discipline in later life.)

2) When I was born, I had to be assisted with one of those weird suction-cup things because I was facing up instead of down. This caused my head to look slightly like a Smurf's hat. My mother, who was one of the last, blessedly generally anaesthetised of her generation, woke up to find a child she thought was deformed. Oh, did I mention that we were in Venezuela and her Spanish was limited? Yes. It took some time for her to have things explained in an intelligible way.

3) The herb I use most at home when cooking is coriander/cilantro. It is a major factor in Indian, Thai, Malaysian, Vietnamese, and Mexican foods. Annoyingly, it is also one of the herbs my next-door-neighbour-and-gardener mother hates growing, because it goes to seed so fast and needs so much space. Thus, I have way more sage than I know what to do with, and way less coriander than I need.

4) The show I miss the most from living in the USA is not anything actually awesome, like, say, The Colbert Report or Conan O'Brien - that shit is downloadable. No, it's Cheaters. It never shows up on any file-sharing networks, because it is a horrible schadenfreude-y nastiness low-budget reality show, originally filmed in Dallas. Brent and Gary and I loved it so much. We watched it religiously on a channel with absolutely no reception and terrible snow.

5) When I was a really little kid, my father made me a slide and swing set from scratch. I don't know how he managed to make a workable, non-splintering slide from wood, but he did. He also made me a mock-Tudor playhouse with a real glass window. This does not in any way detract from his general assholery in later life. I think my mother was a good influence on him. Unfortunately, I have not inherited a) his mathematical ability or b) his DIY skills. I can, however, cook nearly as well as him.

6) I have over fifty pairs of shoes, fifty handbags and fifty brooches. I also have more than one cape. 'Who wears a cape?' Yet with minor variations, I wear the same thing to work every day.

7) My first Beatles albums were Please Please Me, With the Beatles, A Hard Day's Night, Beatles for Sale, and Abbey Road. The first four were my mother's original albums from the 60s. The last one was my uncle Gary's original album from the 60s. (They were all scratched to hell.) As a result, I never heard arguably the best Beatles music until my teens. I received The White Album as a reward for getting chickenpox in 1989. I got Revolver last - and it's my favourite! When I met Brent, we discovered that we followed the same pattern of Beatle-album-collecting, at about the same time. It was a sign.

Bonus random fact number eight: I never tag people when I'm told to. Suck it, tag-rule-makers!

Yesterday, after work, I got on the free city circuit bus, and a woman started singing Dave Dobbyn's 'You Oughta Be in Love', and a person was filming her from the opposite seat with a wee camera. I don't know, guerrilla art installation? Music video? But here's the weird part: everyone was initially kind of embarrassed, and then after about thirty seconds, the whole bus started singing along. Including me!

So, Marika tagged me. And for once, I will respond! (Trip to Europe: awesome. More later.)

FOODOLOGY

Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
A. Balsamic vinaigrette. If I'm feeling creamy, ranch.

Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
A. I assume you mean a chain? Given NZ's limitations in this area, I'm going with Burger Fuel.

Q. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
A. Cheap: that little Malaysian place in New Lynn. Less cheap: Bouchon Creperie in Kingsland.

Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
A. None! Hahahahaha! For we pay our waitstaff a living wage! (Actually, I'll round up the bill sometimes, as a bonus. In the US, I usually went with 20%. It's easy to work out and you don't look like an asshole.)

Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick off of?
A. There are quite a lot of these, I think. But I'll go with toast and Vegemite. Or toast and jam.

Q. What is your favorite type of gum?
A. I feel like gum is a have. It inspires your stomach to get all hungry, but you never get the payoff. And your jaw hurts. And the flavour disappears too damn fast. Given all that, Brent usually uses this stuff called 'Extra Professional' (don't ask me what's 'professional' about it), and that's what I have if I'm going to have gum.

TECHNOLOGY

Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A. At work, it's a 1981 Robin Morrison photograph of the sadly defunct Paua Shell House in Bluff (an erstwhile wonder of the folk-art world). At home: a dumb picture of my dog.

Q. How many televisions are in your house?
A. Three. Only one has Sky. And one of the minor TVs is just to play video games on.

BIOLOGY

Q. What's your best feature?
A. Ack. Next!

Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A. Blood plasma. Teeth. Oh no, wait, none of the teeth were forcibly extracted.

Q. Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
A. Any but sight. I am a four-eyes.

Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
A. The last time I went to the dentist, two years ago. I am not the greatest cavity-withstander. I probably have nine fillings.

Q. What is the heaviest item you lifted last?
A. Either a box of donated books about Latin American history, or a suitcase from the Europe trip. That bag of Johnny Walker whisky for my mother was pretty heavy, too...

Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A. I fainted once. Those trilling birds circling your head aren't just in cartoons.

BULLSHITOLOGY

Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A. No! Wow, that would suck.

Q. Is love for real?
A. Duh.

Q. If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
A. I wouldn't change my name. My name kicks ass.

Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
A. As a wee kid, my mother consistently dressed me in blue and/or brown. (Yes, it was the seventies.)

Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A. I have swallowed several bugs in my lifetime. Are they a non-food item?

Q. Have you ever saved someone's life?
A. No.

Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
A. Oh! Once when I was little I fell into the neighbour's pool. He got me out pretty fast, though.

DAREOLOGY

Q. Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
A. US dollars? Just call me Lady Godiva.

Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A. I've done it for free. Sure.

Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
A. My *little* finger? US dollars? Maybe, depending on painkiller availability and reconstructive surgery options. I mean, that would totally crush my mortgage into submission, and I could then become a lady of leisure (see below).

Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A. There's always Livejournal, isn't there?

Q. Would you pose nude in a magazine for $250,000?
A. No. That's way too big an audience.

Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1,000?
A. Probably not. I may be cheap, but I'm not that cheap.

Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
A. Oh dear. No, I probably couldn't go through with that. Even if it was Hitler.

Q. Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
A. Not an option. Do you *know* me?

Q. Give up MySpace forever for $30,000?
A. I hate MySpace. I just find it confusing. I am old. Yes, in other words.

DUMBOLOGY

Q: What is in your left pocket?
A. Nada.

Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A. No! I'm so glad you asked that. It's funny in parts, but you never invest in the characters enough, and the 'laughing at quirky nerds in suburbia' trope is getting old. The opening credits are the best part. Rushmore mines the same territory but is about one hundred billion times better.

Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A. Oooh, both. Walls are Scandinavian-wash wood, floor is carpet. Did I just blow your mind?

Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A. Stand. Is there a seat in your shower or something?

Q: Could you live with roommates?
A. Nay. I have a very high need for home to equal personal sanctuary.

Q: How many pairs of flip-flops do you own?
A. Two. I only wear one, though.

Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A. Define 'run-in'. I reported a stolen bag...

Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?

A lady of leisure.

LASTOLOGY

Q: Friend you talked to?
A. On the computer? Lawrence. Or Rachael. In person? Danni and Gary, weirdly enough.

Q: Last person you called?
A. My mother.

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
A. Work.

Q: What can you not wait to do?
A. Get paid so I don't have to keep eating ramen noodles.

Q: What's the last movie you saw?
A. Something on the plane. Notes on a Scandal. Or Borat.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
A. Yes! Although I might be less eager-puppy friendly than I used to be, in general. Is this maturity or just fatigue?

Maybe it's my privileged 90s alternative concert upbringing, but until last night I don't think I had ever seen a girl on someone's shoulders flash her tits at an 'I love you'-mouthing lead singer. And it's unlikely that I'll ever see it again at the same show as a full-fledged 80s-California-punk moshpit. The weird and wonderful world of the Eagles of Death Metal, ladies and gentlemen!

Brent calls them the ultimate chicken-walking band, and he is not wrong. That show was all kinds of fun. I think I might love that skeezy truck-stop gay-biker faux-fey-southern lead singer, and all he stands for.

Ahem. Hi. I just wanted to say that I am hugely thrilled by those low-cost laptops Google is organising for developing countries, because... you can power them with a treadle! Like an old-school sewing machine! How awesome is that? I want one.

Oh, that was easy! (I wonder why I have a mental block about these things... it's not a direct 'save as' link, though - you do have to click through to the site briefly if you're desperate to hear some of my awesome teenage taste.)

I forgot to say earlier: Lawrence specified songs you liked at the time, not songs you discovered years later. This makes everyone's list a little less cool and a little more truthful! So I might as well be chronological and start with 1990, a year lost so far in the mists of time that even my horrible perm is now invisible... thank god. I was fifteen.

Dub Be Good To Me - Beats International

You have to hand it to Norman Cook here: it's an early sort-of mashup! The Clash with the SOS Band, I believe. Of course, this is with the benefit of a 'series of tubes' and years of music-nerd-dom behind me. At the time I had no idea what made up the constituent parts, and I just thought that this was, erm, 'jam hot'. Luckily, I still do. I've heard this song 20 times over the last few days and I completely love it. So what does 'Tank fly boss walk jam nitty gritty' mean anyway? And what's up with the awesome humming-dude breakdown? How on earth did anyone think of doing that?

Miraculously, I have managed to whittle down my list of songs into a top 40 of the 90s: my favourite songs from that decade. The last few rejections were a total killer, and I was pretty surprised that some of my long-term artistic favourites didn't make the cut at all - Beck, for example, was pipped at the post, and one of my favourite albums ever, The Sundays' Reading, Writing and Arithmetic, was nowhere to be seen. The rules of the game involved no double-ups on artists (this removed a Massive Attack song in a pretty soul-crushing maneuvre late in the day, due to Tricky's appearance elsewhere on the list), and the need for all the songs to have been singles (although I think a few of these don't quite follow that rule to the letter). Unlike Lawrence, I am physically incapable of ranking these songs, so they're going to have to be 'in no particular order'.

If I can find some nice website to host my files, I may actually get all mp3-blog on your asses. Watch this space for the list to appear, slowly but surely...