White trash all the way baby!

OK so I have a confession to make.

After years of pooh-poohing jetskis and the wankers who use them I gave in to temptation and tried it today in Koh Samui (Thailand), where I happen to be.

And, fuck it to death, it was bloody marvellous. A waterborne, noisy, white trash, testosterone-inducing blast - combined with the 'wheeeeeeee this is wayyyyyyyyyyyyy too much fun!!!'-factor.

Mutter mutter mutter...

"Curse you Thailand and your white trash tourist temptations!"

(Does the fact that I went to a Thai drag cabaret show complete with Banarama and enough feathers to make a million duvets last night earn me any cultural counterbalance points...?)

Every kowlage acquired is not lost.

I dearly wish I could lay claim to having taken this shot but I cannot tell a lie - it comes courtesy of the fabulous Dr Steph who took it by accident whilst hanging out in Nigeria (her current lunatic assignment that provides me with no end of amusing emails).

It is truly a parable for our modern times - and it really resonates with a post-grad student such as myself who has been working to acquire my own little kowlage collection over the last few years. [beats chest in fit of academic fervour]

Steph has suggested the term 'Nigrish' for this particular sub-species of Engrish - and I rather like the word - not least cos' it sounds just a little rebellious.

Squint and enjoy.

A wee musical appreciation rant.

Thought i'd just take a leaf out of Hammy's blog and do a bit of a rave about the concert I just got back from.

Which, for the record, was goddamn awesome.

Headlining was Antony and the Johnsons. If androgynous gospel-inspired soul from a man with the voice of an angel and a nice sideline in cabaret patter floats your boat then this is the boy (girl?) for you. Props to Timothy Mark Arnold for introducing me to them some time ago and for being my charming date this evening.

In a rare twist of fate and good taste - the support acts were also pretty damn special. Coco Rosie is a little hard to describe, other than being somewhat akin to a gorgeous smacked up mongrel crossbreed of Billie Holiday, Bjork and deep south-referencing white girl rappers. It is actually two sisters (one classically trained in Paris and the other who goes by the name of Red Bone Slim) and a drummer - all of whom took some delight in appearing in white trash costume and wigs while working their spell on us.

And even the support act's support act was good! [rolls on floor in paroxyms of ecstasy]. A local group called the Stiletto Sisters, a joyous, mischievous bodice-wearing trio of violin, cello and accordion who play some damn fine gypsy music. Will definitely turn into a groupie for their regular melbourne gigs.

OK - enough music raving - normal service will be resumed shortly :-)

OBVIOUSLY not here.

Flash and I went for a wander around Tasmania a couple of weeks back.

Tassie is a very cool sort of place, give or take the lack of cellphone coverage and stone age internet access (not good for two communication-addicted bunnies such as ourselves). Each town (if you can call somewhere with less than 200 people a town and not a truck stop) had an 'internet access centre' which appeared to be permanently closed other than between 2.27 and 2.32pm on a Wednesday when the locals would get together to check their town hotmail address and play their banjos.

But I digress.

After a few days of road-tripping through the wilderness we got to Launceston - which is a funky little mini-city/large town - although pronouncing the name proved a little tricky for Flash.

Anyhoo - apart from an excellent furniture design museum, very pretty gorge, good pancakes and historic buildings, Launceston does a nice line in graffitti and counter graff.

Such as this:

Feel the mystical object by finger...

This little engrish beauty - also a xmas present (this time from Flash) - is for some sort of bizzaro mini portable chemical icepack type thing...I think.

Perfect for emergencies when you need to apply ice bag for wrench or are simply looking for a little 'magic water'.



... and here's the very decorative front in for good measure.

Blumen bad!

This shot of a bottle of hand soap comes direct from Nigeria where Dr Steph the lovely lunatic kiwi is busy saving the world, eating goat's head and treating air crash, car crash and gunshot wound victims to name but a few entertaining scenarios (signatures for the petition to get her to blog her seriously entertaining/scary/disconcerting/engrossing [tick as needed] emails home are being accepted now).

Not so much Engrish as a case of something being lost (or added?) in German translation.

Remembering all those we enjoyed together...

It seems my fondness for poorly translated engrish kitsch is becoming well-known among my friends and associates. A number of my xmas presents this year were engrish themed - and bloody magnificent they are too!

Exhibit A is quite possibly the sexiest clock I have ever seen - it is now hanging on my dining room wall kitsching up what is otherwise quite a classy room. The text in blue (double click the image to see a larger version) reads: "Happy to you. Young blood conviviality infinite. Best." which I find rather profound, in combination with the coke bottle-shaped pendulum.

Props and big ups to Shaun the eagle-eyed shopper who nabbed this for me somewhere in the motherland and posted it all the way to Oztraylia!

I have attached a scan of the box and a closeup of the text on the face - no further explanation needed - just enjoy its engrish magnificence :-)