Family boat trip ends as 30-foot whale jumps aboard
(thx to Joe E for this gem)
As a night shift worker, part of your job is to stay awake when others aren't. And while a night shift supervisor knew that falling asleep on the job could jeopardize his job, he still got pissed and took legal action when he did exactly that.
Sleep of the just for dozy night workers
This bloke was warned in a company meeting that his napping on the job would not be tolerated. Then he continued to do it, got sacked, and then got all whiney, saying he hadn't been given a "fair go all round".
Screw you, pal. If you can't stay awake, there's plenty of other people who'd want your job. Guy gets paid over $60K a year and he can't stay awake for 9 hours.
The Brisbane Writers Festival kicks off in October in South Bank and they're looking for volunteers to help out.
They need ushers, stage managers, and "Green Room buddies". I don't know what that is, but it sounds interesting.
Most of the festival events are free, so if the pen is your friend, you might enjoy this one.
It's getting close now and the excitement is starting to build. The Wallabies put in a tough performance against the almighty All Blacks on Saturday night so they seem to be getting their act together at the right time.
After being reminded that tickets went on sale today (thx Toby), I bought tickets to a few matches:
Oct 18, Australia v. Romania
Oct 24, NZ v. Tonga
Nov 02, England v. Uruguay
Not a bad haul and I suppose I'll have to go buy an Australia jersey so I look the part.
…was the first thing I semi-uttered, semi-groaned at about 6 o’clock when ‘the chocolate brown alarm clock’ [me doggit] jumped on my head [as he does] on Sunday, er, [yes, it was definitely] MORNING! Proceeded by ‘lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick, lick!’ So of course I retreat under the duvet to avoid the saturation of slobber, and he shovels his schnoz under so he can still get to me…
This was shortly followed by ‘aaaaaaaargh’, as I realised I’d barely had an hour’s sleep!
Yes, yes, me quiet Satdee arve drink got a bit out of control, you might say. Thing is, I had 3 things to attend, so figured, if I ‘start early’, it won’t turn into anything drastic and I’ll be in bed before midnight! Yes, well, it’s good to try to fool yourself occasionally… Self-restraint issues, me?!
Furthermore, I thought I’d eliminate the potential overindulgence by combining 2 of the events – one being a birthday bash, the other, watching the Bledisloe Cup. So, I turned up to the birthday bash, where, well, everyone was watching the rugby. So at ten to five, I had a Guinness in me paw – not a big fan of ‘Australian’ Guinness [having sampled ‘the real thing’ for a good four years or so], but it was miserable, rainy, er, Dublish weather, so it seemed fitting enough. Oh, and we were in one of Brisbane’s [40,000] Irish pubs [Dub Vegas anyone?]. By 9ish [who can be sure?], when all was said and done [yes, yes, we lost - again - but hey, it was slightly better than the last match, and well, I’m not a big Union fan ANYWAY… lame excuses notwithstanding... And, it’s always good to hang shit on the kiwis we were seemingly surrounded by regardless of the outcome. Besides, it’s the only game they can play, so we may as well let them have their glory, while we kick their arse in gee, any other sport in the world - bar ‘animal loving’ in a kiwi sense I suspect! And, I’d rather be beaten by the All Blacks than the Sprinboks… [close brackets, breathe], I was ready to move on.
Anyway, I’d switched to VLSs [vodka, lime and soda] by this stage, and we’d sneakily thrown down a ‘shooter’ – a Cocksucking Cowboy for me [oh yeah!] and a 'surprise' for Chris [Opal Nero, Midori and Cointreau, which, judging by his scrunched up face, he thought it divine! Oops] So I said to Chris, it’s time to move on. We’d had some pub grub, so the stomach was suitably lined, and I had no clue of pubs to visit in the CBD, so I said, ‘let’s go across the road [to the Treasury Casino] and gamble’! Or, did he suggest it? I honestly can’t recall. I said, ‘Sagittarians are renowned for gambling and embezzling funds – bring it on!’. ‘And if I’m gonna stand around gambling, I wanna, drink a Cosmo!’ ‘In a proper glass – y’know, the conical martini type’… So he says encouragingly, ‘you do that’.
We head across and find ourselves in what can only be described as the world’s smallest, and least opulent, casino, with live music drowning out the bleeping and tinkling sounds of a thousand pokies [‘fruit machines’, ‘one-armed bandits’, call them whatyouwill – money guzzlers?] and I have something of a d�j� vu. The gorgeous three [four?]-tiered heritage building, with open ceiling and palm trees gracing the balconies, and ‘so’ balmy, despite being indoor, it instantly reminds me of the outdoor plaza [what the hell is it called?!] in Barcelona… The Grand Plaza or some such?, and I point to one of the corner balconies, and say to Chris, ‘if we were in the whatsie plaza in Barcelona, that’d be where I stayed!’ He nods his head and with a bemused expression, says, ‘okay, Jeanette, let’s get you that Cosmo’! With multiple bars to choose from, we elect for the, er, nearest one and ask for a cocktail menu. This is apparently a challenge? Oh, okay, cos this isn’t a major tourist spot and god knows, nobody would contemplate drinking cocktails whilst gambling, ‘cos that just doesn’t go hand-in-hand?! Anyway, the same ‘incredibly helpful’ bartender returns w a whole freakin’ cocktail book, and I just go, man, if they can’t just whip up a cocktail without having to use ‘the recipe’, then dang, I’ll just go the trusty Cosmo as planned. I get one. It comes in ‘the wrong glass’ [dang!], but I ‘suppose it’ll do’. As I’m about to take my first sip, same dickwad bartender goes ‘um, is it okay?’ Wha’? You don’t say that to a customer? If you’ve screwed it up you don’t mention it unless they complain. He then says, ‘I may have overdone the lime?’ Oh, really. If you’ve made a mistake, the only thing I wanna hear you say is, ‘sorry, madam I’ve put too much vodka in it’ and I’d say, ‘not a bother on ya, that’d be just swell!’ But no, not only does he admit his fault, but I discover it’s too much lime as in ‘cordial’, not ‘freshly squeezed’ – sheesh. Oh well, while it’s very ‘tart’, I’m pretty pissed already, so don’t really notice/care, and consider its ‘tartiness’ quite apt as I’m all tarted up in me purple FMBs, which magically match my recently-purchased ‘girly bag’ and trademark ‘furry coat’ which Chris describes as ‘not that I know you very well, but from what I do know, it’s very you’! So I’m all tarted up w a tarty drink and money, er, coinage, to burn…
We find a table, sip and chat and I realise I’m reasonably drunk when I say,er, slur, ‘Chris, see, I told ya a big night out was well overdue [as our recent attempts have been reasonably feeble], now you too can be introduced to Pissed Ging’. When he says, there isn’t much difference between ‘her’ and ‘sober Ging’ I take it as a compliment! Cool. I then fall flat on my face… Kidding!
We head to ‘the wheel’ as it’s the only thing I 'do' in casinos and it’s very safe. You still get the rush of winning, though it’s not like there's a risk of losing hundreds in one go! I know, not very Sagittarian of me, but hey, I was in a casino, w Cosmo in hand, and dammit, I was gonna have a wee gamble for the hellovit. We watch for a bit, as you do [clearly regulars!], to see the ‘pattern’, despite gambling being completely random and the fact that I’m not ‘really’ gambling. I decide to move in [nearly spilling said Cosmo down the back of some woman who doesn’t appreciate my stumbling!], juggling me handbag and purse to get my insanely dangeorus, um, ‘minimum bet of $2 – I know! Wow huh. So I watch for a bit, then tell Chris, who’s highly amused by the ‘intensity’ of my enthusiasm for such silliness, ‘I’m goin’ #3’. I shuffle in, still swaying, whack [‘strayan for ‘place’] my chips on ‘the rainforest’ pic and eagerly wait for the woman to say ‘last bets’. Spin, spin, spin, spin, sp-HIN… tick, tick, tick, tick... tick... t, t, t, It’s number three! Jah! With some surprise, Chris says, ‘did you win?’ I say, ‘damn straight, told ya! I had a feeling!’ He says, ‘everyone says that when they win’. I say, ‘I know.’ My $2 has just become $8 [I knoooooooow!] so I decide to get a refill. Cos clearly what I need is more alcohol!
When we said we were going to the casino, my colleagues had said, ‘oh, to drink $3 daquiris’, I said, ‘er, no, but sure, if they have them I may as well’! Sure enough, there’s these hideous pre-mixed sloshing frozen daquiri machines, which undoubtedly have no/minimal alcohol in them, but what the hell, I still need to have ‘a girly drink’ in paw as I continue my quest to lose the rest of my money. Given the premise that if you go into a casino expecting to come out 'ahead', then you really are a loser. I opt for the strawberry, er, red-coloured concoction. Someone has left a tip, I mean, change, on the bar, so I ‘borrow’ their dollar [desperate times for the single mother in the suburbs! Ahem] and Chris slides the 10c over as well. I smirk and note, ‘this cheap-arse crap daquiri is now going to cost me all of $1.90!’ This is probably more amusing to two pissed strayans than anyone, but sure enough, I buy a strawberry daquiri which is as lame as anticipated!
As Event 3 is about to be underway [and I receive a text saying ‘be there or be square, Keno is for losers!] I decide we need to ‘blow my dosh and leave. We do. Not without still being very ‘analytical’ about the whole thing, as if having some sort of strategy to win, then lose the, ooh, eight bucks! I mean, I’m hardly gonna cash it in or save it ‘til next time! The wheels spins up some freaky 11s and 23s and Chris and I both agree, ‘wow, that wheel’s doin’ some freaky shit and they’ve switched dealers in as many spins’… A little odd, but I successfully lose me $8 and given I ‘began’ w 2, got a daquiri for $1.90, I tell Chris, I’ve come out a winner! You go Gambling Ging! I’ve also come out pissed.
We are to meet my friend, who’s friend’s friend is just off a plane from London – or some such. I suggest we walk and have ‘a stopover’ en route… [well, obviously it’d be en route otherwise it’s more of a detour than it is a stopover, yeah?!] I recall Chris questioning ‘if we walk?’ [alluding to the lazy/unadventurous option and getting a cab, perhaps?!], but ignoring him, I continue, ‘well, there’s the Embassy, the Victory, or better still, the Orient’s about halfway.’ We walk and I vaguely remember discussing my penchant/some would say ‘obsession’ for/with underwear and shoes. Hmm, I can’t believe I was disclosing such ‘top secret women’s business’ to Chris! Now the world will know. Ah, particularly if I just ‘throw it in me blog there with no regard!’ Oops. [It’s not like I can’t edit this, sure, ‘ but it was funny. I think. Chris? Did I say anything embarrassing?!] Anyway, we reach the ‘new look’ Orient [yet another Bris-furb of a classic Aussie pub where you 'used to get a good counter meal and pot for under $5' as me dad would probably’ve said!] and discover a g’zillion, absolutely sloshed, 12-year-old-looking clientele… so we both down our walking sticks and order a sherry and a pipe… Chris tells me he’d never been here before anyway. I tell him I used to come here ‘when I could drink a lot’ and down countless $2 cans [tinnies!] of fourex [blargh! back in the days when drinking fourex was a uni student option!] w me mate, Jo, boogie upstairs in the ‘indie’ club [run/djed by my ex-Rave magazine editors] , Disorient [still a good name I reckon!] ‘til the wee hours on a Friday night/Saturday morn, be as ‘hungover as a bastard’ lie in the dark all day, hit 5pmish and have breakfast, then do it all over again. Oh man, to have that kind of liver again! So, we stay for one, and when ‘the generic pub band’ play, god, what was it? Down Under? Or was it classic Cold Chisel? Honestly, Chris, I don’t remember what it was, but it was certainly ‘an aussie pub moment’… Not a memorable one, obviously! I do remember them doing pretty bad covers, though.
The Elephant & Castle [another refurb of the Prince Consortium] is just down the road a bit. It’s packed beyond packed [?], reeks in equal parts of backpackers and cigarette fumes – and I’m not sure which is worse… Ha! Y'see, now that I’m Grounded Ging I’m allowed to slag backpackers, when I’m On the Road Ging I can contribute to the ‘slaggee-ed’! Still, there’s ‘backpackers’ and there’s ‘backpackers’ and we all know what I’m talkin’ about so don’t pretend you don’t and don’t be so precious about it if you don’t! Compre?! Anyway, we weave through ‘til I see me mate [and I’d warned Chris that there will be screaming and possibly, shrieking, and much hugging!] I tap her on the shoulder, she screams, shrieks, then hugs me! This is a friend I’ve not seen for, ooh, a couple of weeks, but, it’s a girl thing, and she’s a good mate [not to self to include in ‘me lingo’ dictionary the distinction between ‘mate’ and ‘good mate’!] There’s a small circle of us – my friend’s partner, my friend’s friend, my friend’s sister, my friend’s sister’s friend [?!], the London visitor, Chris, and I. I hit the bar, we stand around drinking and trying to ‘converse’ in what is a very loud environs, with a live band hammering out more of the same! I ask, ‘what are they called?’ and someone points out, ‘um, see that huge banner behind them with their name on it?’ Oh, I see, but can’t remember it now, anyway! They’re another classic pub cover band, but I try not to notice. Between the guinness, VLSs, cocktails and back to beer, who, let alone, how, am I to notice anything?! We all dance our arses off. And I mean, all of us and I mean ‘off’. So much so that when I am awoken by my doggit the next morning as I mentioned, and go to sit down, I scream, ‘holy crap’ I’ve no arse!'
[I wish] Bloody sore leg muscles though...
So yes, there you have it, Chris and I finally had a BIG night out in Vegas, and the last thing I recall as my head hit my pillow was the neon digits informing me that it was 4.54am or something. Not a bad 12-hour sesh?
How did you 'call' the night, Chris?
Pisshead Ging
The first thing that hits you when you step off the train at Exhibition station and pass through the gates of the RNA showground is the smell of cow dung. The second thing that hits you (or me at least) is the weight of many years worth of memories of coming here as a kid. Looking forward to it, preparing for it, going mental when you were in it. Also how the experience changed as you grow older - from the wide-eyed excitement as a kid too young to ride the rides who couldn't get enough sample bags, to the early teens when sideshow alley became your playground, to middle and late teens when going to the Ekka meant being able to get close to your girlfriend in a parent sanctioned environment.
After all these things rushed through my head, I felt I needed a bit of a sit down to plan out my trip down memory lane. The Stockman's Bar was the perfect choice to look over the map, orientate myself and check out the locals. My goal was to revisit all the things that made me think of the Ekka, the Ekka institutions.
Ekka Institution #1: The Animals
As mentioned before, the main reason for the Ekka is for farmers and cowboys to show off their prize animals, make some sales, network with other farmers and farm suppliers and have some fun as well. And the reason the place smells of bullshit isn't cos of all the tall tales being told at the Stockman's. There are literally shedloads of animals - horses, goats, dairy cattle, beef cattle, deer, pigs, dogs, chickens, fish, and sheep. And this is just the live animals, there's also every variety of butchered meat as well, on display with samples. Enough to send a Eugene vegan into palpitations!
I'd arrived too late in the day to see any of the show animals being paraded about and frankly I wasn't unhappy with that. Looking at all the cows in a circle might have been interesting when I was 3 but it's lost some of its charm since. I'm a city-boy, sue me.
Ekka Institution #2: The Showbag Pavilion
I decided to take a quick wander through Sideshow Alley, but it was still too light to have the proper effect so I left there to take a look at the Showbag Pavilion. It was a pleasure to see not much has changed in here. The displays are still the same, most of the same bags were available and there were still plenty of kids running amok. Same old crap, 2004 prices. There were a few new set-ups in there, mostly aimed at adults, but I wasn't there for those. It was while wandering around in here, seeing if I could be tempted to buy any sample bags when I ran across...
Ekka Institution #3: The Japanese Pearl Exhibit
Normally, this Ekka fixture was located in Sideshow Alley and has been a part of the experience for 40 years. They would let you purchase an oyster for a couple of bucks in the hope that there would be a real pearl inside that could be worth some real cash. I tried a few times when I was a kid and came up with nothing. But if you didn't get a pearl, the consolation prize was a goldfish in a plastic bag filled with water. I swear, Ekka time must see more dead goldfish flushed down the dunny than any other time of the year.
These days, the Exhibit has moved to the Showbag Pavilion for unknown reasons and now they give the kids the goldfish in a small plastic tank that's less likely to get squashed on the train ride home.
By this time I had picked out one or two showbags that I'd consider purchasing (for my neice & nephews, of course), but decided not to make a final decision on an empty stomach.
Ekka Institution #4: Dagwood Dogs
Dagwood Dogs are the Ekka and vice versa. I don't know of another place you can get them any other time of year. Not that you'd want to really. They are fatty gut-bombs, but they taste so damn good and soak up the beer nicely too. Outside the Showbag Pavilion, I found one of the many vendors who were doing a lively trade (you don't want to go to one that doesn't get decent product turnover) and purchased my 'Dog. For anyone unfamiliar with one, they're basically corn dogs, dipped partially tomato sauce (ketchup). Mine had evidently sat under the heating lamp for a bit too long and had developed quite a mutation! I also picked up a Chiko Roll, but I'll discuss that culinary disaster another time.
There were other delights to be sampled, but I stopped short of trying the very dubious sounding "Butter Sangers". I wolfed down the Dagwood Dog and then staggered to the Commerce Bar for a beer before I passed out from salt-induced dehydration.
Ekka Institution #5: Buying Showbags
It had to be done. I couldn't go to the Ekka and not buy a showbag. I wandered the aisles of the pavilion trying to decide which one it was going to be. Although I've got a sweet tooth I don't often buy lollies (candy) and chocolate. Besides that, the last time I'd bought a bag was probably 1994 and the most expensive one was $10. Nowadays, you could pay up to $40. Most of the ones with chips and lollies in them weren't more than $10, but it was still a shock to my system. And then something happened...
Ekka Institution #6: Showbag Frenzy!
The inner child in me went nuts. As soon as I bought my first bag, the floodgates opened. First up was the Minties Bag - pricey, but I figured it was worth it for the very Australian Minties, Snakes Alive!, Fantales, Violet Crumble and the politically incorrect Chicos it contained. Next on the hit list was the Cadbury Bag. It had good reviews from Ging and I figured kids like chocolate (did I mention these bags were for my cousins? Ha, suckers!). More Aussie favs, like Flake, Crunchie and two (!!) bottles of chocolate sauce that I thought was chocolate milk. Disgusting. The Bertie Beetle Bag is another Ekka stalwart. It's been $1 forever and still is. It's also a piece of crap! You get 4 things in it - 3 BB choc bars and a small lollipop. It was a rip off, but I bought it anyway.
A tip for Ekka newbies: if you want bargains on showbags, go late in the day, or late in the Ekka week. At the end of the day the chip bags start going for a song - 5 for $10 - because they'll go stale overnight. And towards the end of the week, it becomes a firesale as they can't re-sell the showbags after the Ekka. Everything must go and you can pretty much name your price. Of course, your choices might be limited. Having to balance out the sugar with some salt, I picked up a 2-fer deal on the Twisties Bag and the Doritos Bag. Twisties are an old favourite of mine, but Burger Rings are the business. Both bags had a packet, so I was stoked.
I managed to rein myself in before the frenzy did too much damage to my wallet. I stopped short of buying the GI Joe bag even though all the other kids were running around with the toy gun and army helmet. I nearly bought this bag for Sean, but figured he'd probably read all the magazines already.
I stumbled back out into the fresh air (you're inured to the bullshit by now) and found a bench to stuff my backpack full of my loot. Other kids were ripping into their showbags right next to me, but I'd learned from hard experience that only leads to a stomach ache and not being able to go on the rides later. I left them to their folly when I heard the first explosion crack overhead.
Ekka Institution #7: The Fireworks
I remember it always starting at 8pm, but tonight it was 7:30pm. No big deal, but I had to get over to the main arena quickly so as not to miss the show. I also remember it being the finale of the night too. Maybe I always just left after the fireworks as a kid to beat the crowds. Anyway, it was a good show and it's always fun to be around kids when fireworks are going off.
Ekka Institution #8: Strawberry Sundae
After the fireworks I was peckish again and wandered over to the main Strawberry Sundae stall. I have no idea why these are so popular, but I can only imagine the number of these things they sell. The proceeds go to benefit a local hospital (and at $3 a pop, there should be plenty of benefit) and it looks like the stall staff go back to their jobs in the cryogenics lab after their shift at the Ekka. It's pretty simple fare, really. Just a small cone with 2 halves of a strwberry in the bottom, topped with a slab of vanilla ice-cream, then a slab of strawberry ice-cream, a swirl of sweet cream and half a chunk of strawberry whacked on top. Mmmmmmmm, tasty. I chose to eat mine back in the main arena because....
Ekka Institution #9: The Holden Precision Driving Team
These guys put on a good show night after night at the Ekka, and I think they do the same tricks every year. Still fun to watch and I can't help but laugh at the fools who watch from the front row of the stands. These stock utes rip around the circular dirt track at 70-90 km/h, a track that's been trampled on, pissed, and shat all over by livestock during the day. The debris that gets kicked up by the vehicles might look like just dust, but I'm sure a scientific sampling would prove otherwise.
Ekka Institution #10: The Woodchop
Even though it was way too late for any woodchopping events, I passed by the woodchop area and it deserves mentioning as an Ekka institution. Normally full of tough blokes having a chop, it was empty now and the Woodchop Bar was practically empty so I didn't stop for a pint. If you ever get a chance to see a woodchopping competition, I can't recommend it highly enough - speed, physical strength, skill with a axe, and just enough danger to make it interesting.
Ekka Institution #11: Sideshow Alley
It was well dark and Sideshow Alley would be in its element. All other events had finished for the day and the showbag pavilion was closing up, so everyone left at the Ekka would be here. It was like nothing had changed in a decade. All the same rides were there. All the same carney games were there, all the weird carney folk were there. The ground was littered with paper, plastic bottles, random children, and losing tickets for the Red Cross mega-raffle. Walked past my unconquered nemesis, the Zipper, the too boring for words Matterhorn, the ever popular Ferris Wheel, and my old favourite the Hurricane.
But the biggest smiles of the night were reserved for the Dodgem Cars. Young or old, no one could keep a grin off their dials as they bashed into complete strangers with wild abandon.
It's not much fun to go on rides by yourself, so after a half hour or so wandering up and down Sideshow Alley I decided to call it a night. Getting home was a breeze on the Citytrain, although it was quite crowded with kids trying to open their showbag toys and their parents emploring them to wait til they got home.
When I got home I spread my loot out:
All the goodies inside (doesn't look like that much, does it?)
Hopefully the niece and nephews will come down and visit before I make a complete pig of myself on this...
Ekka Institution #12: Eating chips, chocolate and lollies til you feel sick
Something to ponder over the weekend...
I'm gettin' me doggit's nads scooped out on Monday. My adorable 5-month-old chocolate labrador - Madra [pronounced 'modra', Gaeilge/Irish for 'dog', you'll hear about him a LOT!] - in fact. The right thing to do of course, but the question is, will he despise me [in the short term - probably!], or do you think he's not as, ahem, attached to 'his manhood' in the way a 'hu-MAN' is... Hmmm...
What should I expect - other than MORE than usual 'puppy dog' looks [from under the bucket on his head!] to guilt me out? Any doggit-owners out there with some advice? Ah sure, I'll just spoil him rotten [yeah, cos that'd be a huge change!]...
Sad thing is, he's still 'pissing like a girl' too 'cos he's not socialised w enough 'other boy dogs' y'know, and I sure as hell ain't gonna get down and 'cock me leg' to show him how!
Omigod he's gonna be a transexual!!
Parental Ging
Howdeeorl,
Given I usually have something to say - relevant or otherwise - the BnA boys have set me up w me own blog! [er, obviously!]
Yes, whle I'm v. familiar with the boards/blogs, I'm a bit of a newbie-techie, so bear with me - and, user-friendly [particularly for dumbarses as myself] as it is, Chris reckons I've a pretty good chance of screwing it up somehow!! Charmed.
So, this is a 'hello' and I shall write something 'news, er, blogworthy' after my forthcoming scintillating weekend! Beginning with 'my lingo - what the hell does she mean, anyway?!'
Avagood'ny'all
Virgin Blogger Ging
ps. Yes I like to modify my 'tag' [by line, I don't know what the techies call it!] each time and yes I like parentheses!
I've been meaning to post about and visit the Brisbane Powerhouse for some time and never got around to it. Well, I still haven't visited it, but at least I can tell folks about it...
More about the history and the new vision for the structure can be found on the Brisbane Powerhouse website.
One of the current events going on is Ideas at the Powerhouse, a festival of ideas, innovation and invention.
This morning I went out to Dayboro, a "suburb" on the outskirts of Brisbane to help herd some cows. While I don't want to perpetuate the idea that Brisbane is just a big country town, it certainly felt like a day in the country. The only thing missing was the hard work...
Toby and his brother, Karl, own some cattle and lease paddocks in Dayboro to let them grow nice and fat for slaughter, or stud. Karl got into it about 5 years ago after helping a mate out with his cattle. He only needs one good bull to make his money back each year and the rest is gravy (pun intended).
Not only is it a good investment (with an element of risk, considering disease or poor weather or a host of other things could play havoc), it's fun too. Today we herded them in from their various paddocks to sort through the ones Karl and Toby were ready to slaughter. Karl's got them trained so they will run up at the sound of the ute so it's not too difficult to get them where you want to go. A little hay in the right place and you're sorted.
I say "we" but really I was just a bump on a log for most of the morning. I got my big chance to do something useful by encouraging 3-4 cows at a time into a secondary pen then shooing them up the "run" one at a time so Karl could tag their tails and sort them. Toby had warned me previously about the odd cow that would kick out if they were grumpy, so I was keeping a wary eye on the beasts as I stepped into the pen.
Everything was going smoothly once I got the hang of the procedure and got comfortable walking amongst several tons of beef. Towards the end I ran into a couple of stubborn heifers that refused to go where I told them to, which prompted Karl to offer: "You're not much of a cow whisperer, are ya Chris."
Everything was wrapped up by mid-morning so we nipped down to the local bakery for a meat pie.
The first weekend of the Ekka has passed and they're reporting good crowds at the show. I imagine there were a bunch of hyperactive kids at school today, running around beating each other with their new toys and getting amped on chocolate and lollies.
In an earlier posting, I mentioned the Ekka and was lambasted for not mentioning some of the traditions - woodchopping, Dagwood Dogs, srawberry cones, and showbags.
For anyone unfamiliar with a showbag, it's basically a bag with a ton of promotional gear and 20c toys that break the instant you get them home. All the big companies, movies and TV shows have them. I remember as a kid scouring the newspaper in August checking out all the options and picking 3 or 4 that I just had to have (and that's about all my parents would buy for me). Usually I would go for the chocolate or candy bags as it was a great excuse to get a ton of sweet goodies, but occasionally I would get sucked in by a Batman bag, or something like that.
When you get to the pavilion, it's just a sea of kids. Kids dragging parents to the next stall (since the kids know where everything is), kids begging parents to buy one more bag for them, kids tucking into the lollies and chips and sweeties cos they just can't wait, kids wearing the costumes from the Super Heroes showbag and playing with other kids decked out in Thomas the Tank Engine clobber.
It really is chaos and how much money the vendors make is a direct quotient of how fast they can hand over the goods and collect the cash. The most popular showbags can be sold out in a matter of days and hell hath no fury like a child who missed out on that showbag.
Also good value at the Ekka are the concerts. Included in the price of your ticket are concerts featuring solid local bands. I don't remember there being so many bars at the Ekka, but I'm sure they were there, and no doubt they do a good trade.
And of course, the real reason for the Ekka in the first place is the animals. If you're an animal lover (and not in a Kiwi way), you'll be able to spend days wandering around the different pavilions - Dogs, horses, sheep, cattle, goats, government departments... (seriously though, there is a Queensland Government Pavilion, as if anyone cares)
So you see, there really is something for everyone. In fact, just tomorrow there is a wonderous array of events to check out: Dairy Goat judging, Meat cutting exhibition, Pig Facts, Totally Wild Sheep Shearing, Pig Racing and diving pigs, Posh Pets on Parade, Lacock Mouse Circus, Liz Davenport Suitcase parades (alright!!), Bubulas Buffalo Girls, and the Holden Stormriders Precision Driving Team.
And don't forget the fireworks every night from 7pm. Woohoo!
Went to the Broncos game at Suncorp Stadium last night against the Penrith Panthers. It was an important game for the Brisbane team if they want to keep their finals hopes alive.
But, true to form, my jinxing abilities were aided by fellow jinxer Ging and the Broncos lost a game they never looked like they would win. The score was 13-6 and the Broncs had some good opportunities to score with consistent possession at the end of the first half, but they just couldn't break the Panthers' line.
In better news for Brisbane sports fans, the Lions crushed Collingwood today with 8 first quarter goals that kept the game beyond the reach of the Magpies.
Australian Prime Minister John Howard has ruled out supporting gay marriages because they were incompatible with an institution designed to ensure "the survival of the species".
Howard makes stand against gay marriages
I just cannot understand the reasoning. Survival of the species? Come off it, Johnny. I think the species has been keeping itself going outside of the institution of marriage for some time.
If he wants to make a stand against gay marriages, then that's his right, but please do not insult our intelligence, or make yourself look so stupid with excuses like this.
Perhaps this will prompt another response like this one:
August is certainly the month in BrisVegas to festival hop. The film festival is still going strong and crowds have been big for most shows.
Also this month is the Ekka. An institution for kids with Sideshow Alley (carnival rides) and the showbag pavilion. It's also a showcase for livestock and a trip into the big smoke for a lot of country folk.
Towards the end of the month, there is a River Festival that looks interesting. Tons of activities featured around Brisbane's best feature.