Stories of a short, fat bastard.

Today I did my weekly sparrow eviction. I have a pair of indian ring-necked parrots in the large aviary up the back. Somehow the sparrows get into the cage but can't get out. Over the course of the week the cage gradually fills until the two parrots are crowded into a corner trying to avoid the dozen little maniacs frantically searching for a way out. I went in with a net and a canary cage, and caught all the sparrows, shoving them into the canary cage as I netted them.

The dogs love this. They stare at the cage on the floor as it fills with small brown things, and as everyone knows small brown things are mice. Polly barks and Scruffy bites at the aviary. Eventually I had all the sparrows and took them outside. This is the bit the dogs really love. I open the door and the sparrows fly off, with Polly and Scruffy leaping and snapping at the birds and wondering how the mice get into the tree. Technically, because sparrows are feral noxious vermin, I should euthanase them. But... well, come on...

Today I opened the door and the birds flew off as usual. Polly snapped at one, then froze. She gave me a look of such surprise I almost laughed, and gave me a muffled bark: "Muffff!" Then I saw what surprised her. Poking out of her mouth was a little tail and a pair of feet. The tips of a pair of wings protruded from the sides of her mouth. She dropped her head and went "Blagh!" A damp bundle of feathers rolled out and lay twitching on the grass. Oh great, now I have a pest to take care of.

Scruffy watched this with interest, until somewhere in his stupid little head the ancient Wolf ancestors pushed their way past the tennis balls and tins of doggy-dins and gave him a kick. "You're a TERRIER!" they howled at him "That is wounded PREY! Skitch 'em!" He darted under Polly's chin, snatched up the sparrow and shook the poor little thing the way a real dog would kill a rat. When he was done he stared up at me all wide-eyed and waggy tailed, while a light rain of fine feathers settled onto his head. The limp body of the sparrow dangled from his jaws.

I told the dogs they were GOODDOGs and felt guilty as I disposed of the poor little body.

It was only a sparrow, but I still feel bad. Polly and Scruffy don't.

Happy Birthday USA. If you Yanks hadn't told Nigel Hawthorne King George part the 3rd to bugger off, the Admiralty wouldn't have needed somewhere to send the convicts. They chose Australia, and because of this Australia is entirely peopled criminals. If they hadn't come here Terror Australis would be a very different country.

Thanks youse guys.

I hate exams. All they prove is that for 3 hours I sucessfully forget 6 months worth of learning.

I wonder why these US spammers are sending me offers for "cheap" drugs I can buy over the counter for 5x less than they are offering?

On April 25 a small earthquake in north Tasmania caused a rockfall that killed one miner and trapped two. Five days later a thermal camrea discovered the two miners, trapped in a safety cage under tons of rock. They'd survived on a cerial bar and by licking water from rocks.

This morning the pair were freed, and they walked from the mine to the ambulance, pausing only to change their tags to show they were going off-shift. Nice one, Brant Webb and Todd Russell.

I'm not cuddly.

Or cute.

Thanks eozarth

Last night as I headed out to my room in the garage, I turned off the lights and shut the back door, which is a sliding sheet of 7'x4' sheet of glass in an aluminium frame. I heard the dreaded crunch as the rollers in the bottom of the door derailed and popped off the track. Suddenly I found myself desperately clinging to a 7'x4' sheet of glass in an aluminium frame to stop it from toppling onto me or falling onto the pavers and breaking.

I struggled to lift it back onto the rails, then the bottom of the frame slipped off the step and fell the 8 inches onto the top of my bare feet, landing squarely on the knuckles of my big toes. I don't remember getting the door off my feet, but I do remember pushing it aside so I could get inside the house and lay down on the carpet. Mum came out to see what the noise was and found me laying down and clutching my head. I'd tried clutching my feet but there was no way I could do that comfortably or without causing more pain, and I had to grab something. My first thought, when I could think again, was that I'd seriouly thought I'd broken something. I looked at the damage.

My left foot is bady bruised in a narrow band right agross the top. My right foot is badly bruised the same way, and has a deep cut that nicked the major vein across the top of the big toe. I could bend my toes without increasing the pain, so nothing was broken, but doing that caused the blood to flow faster. Mum helped me bandage the cut and I went to bed.

I woke this morning to bloody sheets, and bloody marks on the floor from when I went to the toilet at some point. The bleeding had almost stopped by the time I had a shower and breakfast, so I applied some antiseptic cream (I'm allergic to liquid antiseptics like Dettol) and a cotton pad and crepe bandage over the cut.

Right now I'm trying to limp on both legs. Luckily today is quiet and I am spending most of my time at the computer. Even so it bloody hurts. I'm certain if I take my shoe off I'll never get it back on.

I have several t-shirts with stuff printed on them. Most had a bat of some sort, 2 have Wallace And Gromit, one has a small dog being crushed by the word "Bugger" and one has a hamburger with a dagger through it and the legend 'Death To The Culinary Imperialist.'

Often I see a t-shirt somewhere and think 'I like that.'

Today I saw one being worn at Orana Mall. It had the legend 'Masterbation is not a crime.' I looked at the shirt. I looked at the wearer. I thought 'I bet he does it all the time.'

I don't think I want that t-shirt.