much ado about sod all

I thought this was pretty funny

2009-04-30T08:46:00.000+12:00

To be done in a Late Show Top 10 style...

"YOU MAY BE A TALIBAN IF..."

1. You refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to beer.

2. You own a $3,000 machine gun and $5,000 rocket launcher, but you can't afford shoes.

3. You have more wives than teeth.

4. You wipe your butt with your bare hand, but consider bacon "unclean."

5. You think vests come in two styles: bullet-proof and suicide.

6. You can't think of anyone you haven't declared Jihad against.

7. You consider television dangerous, but routinely carry explosives in your clothing.

8. You were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.

9. You have nothing against women and think every man should own at least one.

10. You've always had a crush on your neighbour's goat

Things to think about

2008-08-29T23:45:00.002+12:00

I've been listening to / watching a few interesting things of late.

Firstly I've been listening to the audio from the various HOPE conferences. Primarily concerned with technology and hacking, there are some folks with interesting politics featured as well.

Jello Biafra for one.

Another interesting speaker is Robert Steele, who pretty much founded the concept of open source intellegence. Lots of interesting stuff on his website (if a bit difficult to navigate).

Mr Steele mentioned a group called TED, who have sponsored a fairly exclusive conference for 20-some years, with a lot of *very* interesting speakers.

The youtube channel has a couple of hundred archived talks from such folks as Stephen Hawking, Richard Branson, Nicholas Negroponte, J.J. Abrahms, Richard Dawkins and many others on topics from technology through politics, art, business and culture. The conference mission of "ideas worth spreading" is a very good one. Although I can see I'm gonna chew up a bunch of bandwidth watching everything...

Get your hack on

2007-09-22T01:31:00.000+12:00

New Zealand is going to soon have its own hacker con.

OK, so it won't be HOPE or DEFCON, but its a start.

One downside, no drink at the venue. Oh well...

Check https://kiwicon.org/ for the skinny.

So the seminar is back on again...

2007-09-21T22:36:00.001+12:00

A rough indication of how often I update this thing... I couldn't remember my login.

We found out last night that Rahneer is coming over next weekend for training and grading. No mention of anyone else coming with him, so we don't know if the whole Bakbakan membership thing is going to occur.

At least I'm over my flu...

This is the third reschedule for this visit. First time, Rahneer was moving His gym, second time I can't remember (I may have mixed these up), and the last time He had a death in the family and had to fly to the Philippines for the funeral. The last couple of times I organised time off to prepare, and do extra classes.

The last time was a huge mess. I took 2 weeks leave, not huge problem as I have at least 2 months worth. I planned my time brilliantly. The first part of the day, I would swim. Pools in Manukau city are free, so a great deal. During work time, I go to the pool when it opens, at 6AM. There's usually not a huge group. I can do a bunch of laps, go home, do this breakfast thing, throw the ball for, or walk, the dog, then go to work. On my holiday I decided 6AM wasn't neccessary.

So I trotted (or drove) down to the pool 'round 9ish. Whole different scene. For a start the lane ropes are removed and the main pool is divided in half. One half has some kind of aquatic aerobics thing going on. All pensioners and soccer moms. It's kinda like line dancing in the water. Not right at all. The other half of the pool is for everyone else. So, you would think, it's for swimming, eh?

Nah.

Howick/ Pakaranga has a large Chinese community. Apparently the retired portion go to sit in the pool in the morning. A few may be swimming, but on the whole most are hanging around the edges talking. One guy was sitting on the steps at the shallow end READING A NEWSPAPER !!! No shit. And it was bone dry too. He looked really unhappy as I splashed my way past.

So, back to early swimming.

For the middle portion of the day, I had a list of stuff to do from the Girlie. To quote Forrest Gump - That's all I have to say about that.

After chores, and entertaining the pets (which takes up a lot of time, as they make you feel guilty if you don't), I had some time to do bag and rope drills before heading off to whatever training was on. The first week I managed to fit in an early session with Jarred (mostly panantukan) before heading of to train at our gym, or with Clint.

All in all a good week, with lots of training done.

Until Saturday.

The flu hit me like a ton of bricks. Literally I could hardly move on sunday, and it was worse on monday. I toyed briefly with the idea of cancelling my holidays, going back to work, then taking sick leave. But then I thought even the buffoons I work for Might twig on that one...

So... I couldn't swim, as I was full of snot. Basically can't breathe - can't swim. I think the technical term is drowning. I couldn't train as I literally ached all over. The only thing I could do was work on the forms. Then we heard Rahneer's relative died and He had to go to the Philippines, so the seminars and stuff were off. Which is probably not bad thing, 'cause if I'd had to have graded in the state I was in, I would probably have died. Or everyone would have been able to beat the crap out of me...

Which is not to say they won't do it next weekend ...

2007-09-01T23:40:00.000+12:00

Much stuff has (,or hasn't) gone on of late. I'm still a radio guy, but not for long...

Anyway - fun new toy:

I like old computers.

In terms of 8-bit machines, my preference is old Atari boxes (I would still happily maim someone for a nice PAL atari 800). I have, however, recently discovered the DTV commodore 64. Basically a very clever hacker chick created the c64 environment in an ASIC, stuck it a a joystick with some games in flash ROM, and marketed it. See this link.

I got a version 3 DTV, a Hummer game (And by Hummer I mean car, not anything else...). It's basically a steering wheel you put batteries in the base of and plug into your telly. Or you can hack a ps2 keyboard, SD/MMC card interface, or original C64 peripherials to it.

I quite like the idea of stuffing the board, some mass storage, a keyboard, batteries and a 7 inch LCD into a small pelican case.

Fiendish cat torture device!

2007-03-20T09:12:00.000+12:00

I found this:

I don't think it would work for our cat... The Baz would get on it at 3 AM, just to piss us off.

I wonder if it would work for the dog though...

Happy St Patricks!!!!!

2007-03-17T16:50:00.000+13:00

Slainte ya'll!

After training this morning, we headed up for a wee pint (or two) at the local Irish pub.

Here's Damian and Pete getting into the mood...

Interesting thing is, neither of these two were drinking!

Cheers!

Funny ad

2007-03-09T11:14:00.000+13:00

There's a very funny series of ads on TV here for an energy drink.

For those overseas, I thought I'd provide a link...

There are some other ones about, I'll put them up sometime...

Pet combat videos

2007-03-06T08:43:00.000+13:00

While I was doing the youtube thing on Sunday, I uploaded a few more Baz n Pheob clips:

First off, the first time they had a tussle (on camera...) note the size difference and when Pheob blindsides the Baz. I think this was the same day we got her...

Next was one time I took the dog for a walk, and the cat decided to stalk us as we were coming back down the drive. When I take Pheob for a walk, we first go down the drive, then the Baz appears to follow us. This is not a good thing, so I then have to shove him in the house while we get away before he can follow us. Anyway, this happened one day when we finished the walk... (Note: the dog is still on the lead!)

Finally, here's Baz and Pheob rolling in the lounge. Check out the moves... I think my cat has been learning jiujutsu!

2007-03-04T19:52:00.000+13:00

Haven't done this for a while. And when I tried to sign on - *BAM* - lotsa changes.

Never mind - all sorted.

I was planning to have a productive, fix-up-the-house kinda day, but that weather turned crap, so that all went sideways.

Instead I spent the day on youtube. I looked up old 80's videos, some extemely embarrasing, others not so much. On link lead to another and I found a funny interview with John Lydon, He of Sex Pistols and Public Image Limited fame...

Part one:

and part two:

Funny stuff.

Visit from the Rapid Arnis folks

2006-12-12T20:33:00.000+13:00

This week I went back to work after a fortnight break. The holiday was, ostensibly to do a lot of training. My friend Clint had recently become affilitated with the Rapid Arnis International group, and was bringing the Head Instructors Pat and Lucy O'Malley across from the UK for a seminar. The O'Malley's credentials are impressive and impecable, and you can read all about them here. I had also had interraction with them both in forums. They came across as extremely nice folks. I thought they'd be great to have a beer with. Turns out I was right.

After collecting them from the airport, albiet delayed and without some of their luggage, we settled them in to the accomodation Clint had organised for them, and after a beer or so, we did some informal training, details of which I'll eventually post in my training blog. Important safety hint: Never ask Pat about locking after beers have been consumed, you won't like the results!

Although I was driving, and only having a single beer, I hung out till quite late, and crept in the door a wee way after midnight. This didn't impress the Girlie, as I hadn't kept Her appraised of my movememnts, and She is occasionally prone to worry. I also didn't tell Her about the speeding ticket (my first!) I got trying to get home before midnight. At least not 'till the next day...

The next day a few of us had time to train with the visitors at Clint's gym, while He was working in the tattoo studio in front. Covered a lot of interesting stuff, including long stick/staff, which I foolishly didn't get on video... After this they retired back to the apartment, with Me in tow, and had dinner. After the meal, Pat asked what time Clint's regular Thursday class (that they were teaching at...). I said 7'ish, at which point we all hauled arse to the gym, being twenty to eight and all.

We all trained till 'round 10:30, and then beers and food appeared. I had left my car in Orewa at the apartment. Which I realised was a mistake when we left the gym to go back at 12:07. After hastily taking my leave, being very careful with my speed around where I was caught the previous night, and having to find somewhere that took the company gas card to fill the tank up, I got home around twenty to two. The Girlie was a mite perterbed...

(In my defence: the first time I realised it was late was when we left the gym at 12:07. As She had to work the next day, I figured She didn't want to be woken up with a call explaining how late I was, and how I was going to be even later. See, I'm very considerate! It didn't help that, as I was using my best ninja moves to sneak stealthily into the house, the dog went out of her brain and wanted me to throw the ball for her...)

On Friday we got some more training in, this time at the back of the apartment. In the sun, with beer. Few things could be better (Not having to drive 70 KM back home would be one...) The beach would have been perfect, but there was an alcohol ban. Clint was able to train, and probably got a lot of His new syllabus established. They'd already been at it for some time by the time I arrived. I was late as I had to put up some shelves for pennance :) Again after training more beers arrived, and frivolity ensued. But I left early to stay in the good books. Or at least the less bad books...

Saturday was the first official day of the seminar. Although Clint had been very organised and contacted pretty much everyone He and I could think of that may be interested, the turnout was, as many concert promoter find in Auckland, not too good. A high turnout from His group, and about half of our Bakbakan group along with a couple of strangers. This was a good number for the seminar in terms of quality of training, but I hope Clint didn't take to big a hit for the costs. We covered a whole bunch of stuff, that I'll detail in the training blog.

One thing was sure - we had enough sticks. A couple of days previously, I had made a mercy dash out to Te Atatu to a cane importer and grabbed enough rattan to make up a couple of dozen pairs of sticks for Clint to sell any folks who showed up ill-equipped. Damian had also secured some sticks, and other bits (including a training kris I have to pay him for...) from down in Invercargill.

All in all, a great days training, and we all retired to the apartment for beers and dvds. I had even made arrangements to crash on the couch. The hangover wasn't too severe.

Sunday's training was held in Clint's gym, as the extra folks hadn't signed up for the 2nd day. We covered even more stuff, some of it pretty intricate and a bit advanced for some. But We got it all on tape, and it'll help as folks progress through the grades. At the seminar's end big Ermehn had a wee padded stick spar with Pat. Ermehn is scary guy and hits really hard. Pat loved it. If I can sample the tape somehow, I'll try and post it on youtube... Afterwards more hanging out.

On Monday Pat, Lucy and the kids moved out to Clint and Mel's place for their last night. Clint's place is a bit remote. You know you're out of the way when the street you live on runs off a road called "Lonely Track". A wee bit more training, and yet more beers and hanging out. Great stuff.

On the Tuesday, we had to take them out to the airport and send them to Manilla (where I understand Lucy has already won a couple of medals in sparring and forms...) I was sorry to see them go, but glad to know they'll be back.

All in all great folks. I learnt a lot, had a whole bunch of laughs (got a lot of video) and had a whale of a time. Can't wait for them to come back.

Despite all the video I shot, I only took few pics. In these photos Pat and Lucy come across as freindly, talented and dynamic folks...

Ok. To be fair, I took this pic on Saturday night. There had been much beer, a lot of "Little Britain" and some Monty Python. Also their kids are a handful. Especially Olisi, who I think will be a damn scary fighter in the future.

Actually, I was too busy training, yapping, video taping, maybe drinking, to take any pics. The only reason I got this is 'cause I was in a very similar weary state!

But don't they look cute!

the Pheob

2006-10-04T09:07:00.000+13:00

There is a link to a video of the dog, the day we got Her.

Shock horror - a new post!!!

2006-09-15T21:47:00.000+12:00

Yeah, alright, it's been ages.

Problem is a lot of the best stuff I've been involved in of late has involved some degree of non-disclosure. For example, I've been doing a lot of work for the corrections service, but I'm pretty sure I'd be in trouble if I go into details.

Shame, 'cause there's been some very good stuff... you know, doors not working, doors opening at random (kinda bad for a prison), funny plumbing issues. Lotsa funny shit... Ask me later in person, if you like.

All at home is fine. We've got a house guest. My friend and training partner, Kurt, has sold up and is going overseas. Having no house, He's staying with us while He saves up dosh for a trip to Europe. So, He's moved into the spare room. This is Basil's room.

Even when the door is closed, Basil can actually open it. So it goes like this: Kurt goes to bed, closing the door behind him - Basil wants to open the door to come in. You can see where this is going, can't you... Basil opens the door to sleep on the bed. Kurt gets up to close the door, 'cause it's cold. Then Bas wants to go out at, say, 4 in the morning. And makes lotsa noise 'till he gets let out.

Needless to say, Kurt wasn't completely happy with this arrangement. Unfortunately, merely closing the door didn't work, 'cause Baz would just barge it open and get in anyway. Eventually Kurt found that if He put a bunch of shoes against the door Basil couldn't push it open. This is all very well in theory.

In practice, the Girlie and I can be drifting off to sleep when we hear *BASH* *THUD*
*BANG* - as Basil tries to bash the spare room door open. This then attracts Pheobe's attention, and She goes out to chase Baz for a bit...

And what about the Pheob? How is She dealing with a new bod in the house? Well, Kurt's had a dog before, so He knows how to deal with them. When Pheob jumps all over Him, He completely ignores Her. His theory is - "If I'm not interesting, She won't be interested..."

This actually works very well for Him. On one night, both the Girlie and I get home later than normal. And Pheob won't go inside with Kurt. Actually, He did get Her in the other week, but He had to impersonate my voice to call Her in...

Of course, someone else in the house means there's more stuff for the dog to steal. The other day, Kurt and I were in the lounge watching a movie. Pheob comes flying down the hall, through the lounge, and out the cat-door. With some item of contraband in Her mouth. "So, did you leave your door open?", I asked. Yep, says Kurt. "What'd She steal then?" Off He goes to investigate. Apparently there was a date scone in a bag on the bedside table...

Lotsa fun...

Added bonus: I saw a site today, the rather dodgily named stuffonmycat.com

Nothing involving beastiality, just funny cat pics. Enjoy...

Around the gym - ropes and stuff.

2006-04-07T20:45:00.000+12:00

Recently we had a "working-bee" at the gym.

We came into possession of a fairly large quantity of heavy duty rope. The kind of stuff they use, for example, to lash frigates down in a storm.

The fact that one of our members is in the navy, has nothing to do with anything.

Pay no attention to that frigate floating past...

We use the rope for striking, to develop power. This means we can hit people harder. See some earlier (and, no doubt, later) posts for photographic evidence of the resulting bruises.

So, we had a bunch of rope. And we had to cut it into managable lengths. We made a bit of an occasion of it and had a BBQ - South African style.

(Important note: My spelling of some SA terms is likely to be way off. Please don't take offense. Or hit me at training.)

BBQ is a big thing in New Zealand, but we get a bit flash. Some friends of the Girlie and I have a bbq that is pretty much an entire kitchen. This can get a bit much. The South African bbq is called a braai.

This is pretty basic. A big bowl and some coals, and a grill on top. None of your fancy 4-gas-hobs-and-hotrocks here! Luckily, we have Bradley, a South African chef, in our group.

So, while Bradley was cooking, the rest of us got to work on the rope.

We cut it down to lengths we could bundle up and hang down from the ceiling.

And this is how it looks set up to use.

And here's Kurt, showing how we use it...

And Pete's just itching for a go...

It wasn't all about whacking ropes. There was some other work going on.

I'm not quite sure what Jackson was doing...

... but I'm pretty sure the bag won!

It was all a bit much for the next generation (Damian's son, Kieran)

We have quite a nice gym.

There's even an office for Damian to look busy in.

So... with the work all done, time for nosh. We were introduced to the South African treat known as boreworst. A kind of spicy sausage. Very yummy!

All in all, a good day's work.

Pete thinks so, but Damian looks concerned...

Kinda sore...

2006-02-26T21:46:00.000+13:00

I've finished both seminars, knife and Lameco eskrima, but I think I'm sorest from the shooto on Friday nite. Although I seem to have developed a calf/hamstring twang, and have sore knuckle from a clash of fists during knife sparring during the regular Sat morning class. In other words, business as usual :) !

Last night, we went to my cousin's combined housewarming/engagement party. I was, as mentioned above, a bit bung, and the Girlie had been working at a special weekend sale. The plan was to not be out too late, but we still got home after 10:30. The beasts were less than impressed...

So after all this I went to the Lameco eskrima seminar today. Lots of interesting stuff (I'm sure I missed heaps from my training log), and fairly intense sparring at the end.

Afterwards, slightly more battered I went on a mission to get de-fleaing stuff for the Pheob. Which ultimately proved futile, as anything that's any good has to come from a vet, and none near us were open today. So, one more evening of scratching to keep us awake.

Rushed home after and was terribly domestic.

Shootfighting intro

2006-02-24T22:57:00.000+13:00

We have Rahneer over this weekend for Lameco eskrima and knife seminars. He also agreed to take a shooto class.

This would be the first serious grappling class since I was 23! So only 13 years gap...

I cover what we did in my training log, but suffice to say, it hurt a bit. Good though.

I didn't notice the bruises till I went to bed.

My room... and my pets

2006-02-16T21:39:00.000+13:00

Our house has 3 bedrooms. Two of these are mostly accurately named, as they contain beds. The one we sleep in definitely does. The other has most of a bed, well, the base and some blankets. It also contains some drawers we can't fit into our bedroom and a couple of boxes of stuff we haven't unpacked yet.( We've only been here 10 months...) Some evenings it contains the Cat. Other times, like when She can get in there, and we aren't fast enough to catch her, it may contain dog poo. Then there is my room. I am allowed one of the bedrooms for all of my stuff. This is because I don't have a garage. I'm not bitter about it. Honest.

This room doesn't contain any bed at all. But it contains all kind of other stuff. None of it in enough quantity to name the room. What do I mean? There are, for example, computers in it. More than 10 at last count. But I *don't* call it the computer room. This is for two reasons. First, there is other stuff in it, and second, it sounds too damn geeky.

This is what you see when you enter the room:

OK. You can see from the start there's a lot of stuff in there.

There are some computers. (Strangely enough, none of the bottles are from alcohol...)

Some more computers...

There are some really old computers, like this early 1980's Atari 800XL. (Perfect working order...)

There are more computers, but you get the picture (and the Girlie may not know about all of them...)

There's other stuff too, like radios...

OK, so there's an old computer on the shelf...

I have a lot of books

And, yes there are some computers on the shelves. There are other things too... ideo tapes, weapons, boxing gloves, protective headgear, and other stuff ...

I really should throw that bottle out.

I have a bookcase with comics, magazines, papers and such.

Oops, how did that old computer get in the bottom of the pic?

Sometimes, I fire up the old soldering iron and get some work done.

Anyway, there's a lot of stuff in here, right?

This includes a lot of wiring, for all my electrical stuff, the network for the house, some phone stuff, etc. Also, through no fault of mine, there may be some stuff on the floor.

When I'm in the room, I'm being anti-social, especially if the door is shut, as I may be planning terrorist acts, or some other misdeed. So I leave the door open. Which allows the pets access.

When we only had the Baz, He would come in and climb all over everything. As you may have noticed from some of the above pics, some of the stacks of stuff are very carefully balanced. A cat jumping from pile to pile does not assist me in keeping the room in order. Although a lot of the time, Basil just comes in to sleep under the desk.

Then we got Pheobe.

Firstly, the are many cable to be pulled and bitten. Also a lot of stuff may be on the floor. Pheob has discovered a fun new game. Grab something from of the floor, or low to the ground, and run. She can run fast.

I keep my shoes in a box under the desk. Pheobe likes shoes. You get the picture.

Dog grabs shoe.

Dog departs room at high speed, with stolen booty.

Having blagged said item, Pheobe then will either run back into the room, to taunt me, or hide it somewhere on the property. I can only wonder with dread what stuff the lawn-mower guy has come across...

As I said, She can move *damn* fast. Often you can't catch Her. So, you have to try psychology. Get the Dog to go after something more interesting. Ideally, this can be food. Unfortunately, the best results are obtained with fresh meat. And if I have a steak, I ain't giving it to the Dog. So, often, we use the Cat's meat. Basil is a fussy eater, he has wet and dry food. The dry food is a biscuit kinda thing, but for wet food , He prefers Jimbo's veal cat food. So does the Dog, although She's not normally fed it. Unless She nicks something I really want back. So I grab a hunk of Baz's food and wave it enticingly under Pheob's nose. At which point She drops what She stole, and I can retrieve it. I have seen the Cat watch, horrified, as His food is given to the Dog.

The other way is to distract Her with a plaything. The Dog prefers noisy things. I made the mistake of buying this.

This thing sqeaks. The more pressure you put on it, the higher-pitched the squeak. If the Dog has this in her jaws, and you are trying to get it from Her, windows three houses over could be cracking...

If the Dog is in a playful mood, She will bring this to you, to play "fetch". In this game, you throw the noisy item, and She brings it back, but doesn't give it to you. Instead, you are expected to tear it from Her death-grip and throw it away for another retrieval. We have discovered if you throw it out the window, for example from the bedrrom, Pheob has to run a long way to get it, and She tires faster.

As I was writing this very entry, Pheob was playing this game. I was drinking a bourbon (yay Woodstock!). I was throwing the squeaky-toy out the window, and She was running back in with it. Unfortunately, one throw bounced off the window, and the toy landed on the desk. Where the Dog leapt up to grab it, and knocked my can on the floor. The towel on the floor in picture below was soaking up the resulting mess.

At least neither beast has taken a dump in my room...

Cheese on toast, how hard can it be?

2006-02-09T08:56:00.000+13:00

A few days ago we had a power outage. This caused all the usual reseting of clocks and vcrs and the like. It also made the clock on the oven flash. This clock has been a bit of an issue since we bought the place. It was set an hour out, meaning it was great for daylight saving, wrong the rest of the year. There are 6 buttons under the display, none marked as anything indicating setting. After some random prodding and a cursory google search didn't turn up anything, so I let it be. Until last night.

I was hungry, very hungry, after my recovery from the gutt-grottiness of the past few days. I didn't want a full meal, as I had had training. But I needed something. The Girlie opted for toasted sandwiches, but I wanted cheese on toast. So I turn the oven on. Turn the temp dial to max and set the function to maxi-grill. Nothing happens. Except the flashing time display.

After some cursing and kicking the oven, the Girlie suggested it may be a safety feature, so the oven doesn't turn on accidentally after a power outage. Seemed reasonable enough. Until I tried to reset the clock.

Prod, prod, prod.

Push this button, hold that one.

Turn the main power off and on, holding down buttons.

Nothing happens.

Off to Google.

After searching the manufacturers site, the distributors site, and various resellers, I didn't find much. Except that it's a superceeded model, with, according to one site, an "easy to set clock".

Nope, not at all.

I grab a chair and sit in front of the oven systematically working through all the button combinations I can think of. Nothing happens. I examine the oven, looking for a reset switch. Nada. I start to remove the front panel, but the Girlie tells me off.

Enough of this, I'm off to training. After all this I *really* need to stab something...

The Girlie tells me, She'll look at it, and probably get it working. I would be just my luck too, I'd never live it down...

So, I get home after knife class. Do I have my cheese on toast?

No.

But the Girlie has sent an email to the help desk.

I have a small rum instead.

Was it the chicken?

2006-02-08T08:46:00.000+13:00

I had the day off work yesterday, making a 4-day weekend. Cool, eh? Not exactly. I was, to be delicate, a little unwell. Crook as all hell, to be slightly more accurate.

I got up at 5:30 for my daily torture session, but started feeling a bit queazy while I was warming up. After I had to run outside and dry-wretch for 10 minutes,I figured it was time to call it a day. I sat and watched the rest of the session, stretching. As I drove home, my guts started to complain a bit. When I arrived I noticed the Girlie hadn't left for work yet. In fact, She too was bung in the guts.

We put it down to 2 possibilities: last night's chicken, or Saturday nights meal. The chicken had cooked in the crock-pot for several hours, and had not a trace of pinkiness, plus the beasts happily chowed it down. (This doesn't say much, as Pheobe eats her own, and others, poo, and the Baz is a well-known chicken fiend.) The other possibility was the main course we each had at dinner on Saturday.

We were out to dinner to celebrate the Girlie's friend (and by extension, my friend) Vicki's birthday. It wasn't all that joyous an occcasion though, as Vicki's Father was laid up in hospital in Dunedin with and enflamed appendix. So, with that in mind, and a fairly graphics decription of bowels and stuff, by Harry (Vicki's doctor husband), we went off to dinner. We also brought along Vicki and Harry's neighbour, Helen.

We arrived at the resturant to find Harry's sister and partner, His brother and partner, and His Mother. (Vicki's family were all in Dunedin). By a staggering coincidence, Harry's parents own the apartment that Helen lives in. I've never gone out to dinner with my landlord, so I thought it a bit strange, but no-one else seemed to mind. (I've wanted to poison a few landlords though...)

The meal was nice enough. We skipped starters (except for ciabatta and some yummy macadamia butter) and went straight for the mains. The Girlie and I had the same dish, a scotch fillet. (Possible source of our crook-ness?). As desert came around, Harry's sister and parnter said they would be sharing a tart. (I presumed this was the desert...) His brother and partner wanted a tart each. I found it difficult to keep my mouth shut. The Girlie and I shared a desert platter. I didn't have any of the tart.

Aside from the meal, the only other thing the Girlie and I both ate was the chicken, which was strenously cooked in the crockpot. This was a bit of an effort, as She had to call her sister for instructions. I think She also looked on the net... Eventually we had what seemed to be well-cooked and yummy chicken.

Airport fun+games, slicing and dicing

2006-02-02T09:41:00.000+13:00

Yesterday was a moderately eventful one. I spent all the day at the airport, working on a truck. The truck I worked on wasn't the one I was supposed to be doing. But then that truck wasn't the truck it was supposed to be... Confused? Let me explain.

I headed out to the airport, and called in to see the techs and find out what I was supposed to be doing. I was then sent out to the Facilities management yard, to install 2 radios into a new sweeper truck. Only it wasn't new. It wasn't even the truck it was meant to be. Apparently, the contractor did a swifty, and changed trucks. So, we had a smaller, slower altogether unsuitable sweeper. At first, they wanted me to put the stuff un this truck. Then they didn't. Then they did. And so on.

Eventually they decided not to, and gave me another truck. So I had to put 2 radios into this truck, and tehy had to be switched off the key, and they needed external speakers. A complete and utter shit of a job. I didn't finish 'till after 5:30.

At least Wednesday night's knife class will help relieve some stress, I thought. We were asked to bring in our "every-day carry" knives. Now we are in New Zealand not South Africa, so not many of us (only one actually) carried knives on a regular basis. But we all brought along what we had. Damian was not impressed. "My Son has more knives than you guys! In his cot!!!". After this we did a lot of interesting, and thoroughly nasty, draw and cut drills and some sparring.

This morning's combat conditioning class had a new round included. In addition to boxing, kicking, elbows, knees and pummelling rounds, we now had a round where you strike a bag from underneath. You lie on your back with the bag on top, and hook your legs around it, to control it. Then, for 3 minutes, you lay into it with punches, elbows, forearms, headbutts etc. Bloody tiring, and extremely hard on the abs.

The class was so tiring, I fell asleep sitting on the clas when I got home, and was a little late for work...

Ramping up my training

2006-01-26T09:50:00.000+13:00

Well, it's all on. Some of us are off to Manila in July, for training, and a tournament. To that end, I've started early morning conditioning classes at the gym.

At 6 in the AM I head down the road for a 45 minute torture session. On monday, wednesday and friday, it's boxing, which entails punching bagwork after a short warmup. On tuesday and thursday it's "combat conditioning" which is basically the boxing class with elbows, knees and kicks (muay thai, basically).

After a half hour or so of all this bag-bashing goodness, we do a couple of rounds of medicine ball drills. These are two exercises. The first is squats, 20-30 or so with the ball held close and then the final 10-20 with the ball held out. As an added bonus, Damian has started us with two balls each. First with the balls held close, then with arms out, palms up and apart, with a ball on each. Fun.

Second ball exercise is standing slightly further than arms length from the wall. We then pick a block on the wall, head height or so, and bounce and catch for a minute or two. This may sound easy, but it kills the shoulders and chest. An added bonus is that if you are tired, you can mis-time and get a 4 kg ball in the face.

We do 2 or 3 sets of these drills then we do a bunch of abs stuff (crunches, etc), pressups and stretch for a bit. Then I have a wee lie down. Or pass out, if you want to be technical. More than once, I've got home, had a short "rest" and slept right through 'til when I have to leave for work.

So, with these 5 classes, Bakbakan kali stick on monday, knife on wednesday, both on saturday morning, Jarreds JKD class on thursday (with occasional balintawak classes afterward), and the saturday afternoon class I teach, I should be in moderately good shape for the Philippines. Or dead in a month.

Although, Damian is talking about a grappling class before the Kali class on saturday...

Jarred has started teaching a JKD class at the gym on Tuesdays, but I'd be dicing with death to go!

At least I have two nights a week and one whole day to spend at home, which keeps the Girlie happy(ish) :)

Post Xmas-ness

2005-12-26T22:54:00.000+13:00

We're just getting over Xmas. The Girlie, in Her infinite wisdom, decided we should invite both families over, for lunch. And Dinner. Hooray.

This would mean 20+ people for each sitting. Again, hooray.

I know the Girlie pretty well (in at least part) by now. One thing I know is She has a propensity to stress out. She will freak out badly before all kinds of major stuff (work, family, jewellery sales etc...) And so She, with deliberate forethought, created a stressful situation, on what is traditionally a stressfull day. What could posiibly go wrong?

Actually, not all that much. We were pretty well organised. All the folks coming were bringing stuff, food, drink, etc. We cleaned the abode, de-pigged the grounds, tried to get the beasts in order. The major hassle was going to be the weather. We would never be able to seat all the folks coming inside. But we have a big deck and a couple of tables (three if you count the one we borrowed from the Girlie's Sister). The wild-card in the whole affair was the weather, which being Auckland, was likely to be crap.

So, off to the local hardware galactic-super-hyper-mega-mart to buy some tarpaulins. My original idea was to have the tarp come from under the eaves, and out to the fence round the deck, where it would be held up by several broomsticks attached to the fence. There were several things wrong with this, the major one being that the tarp we got wouldn't actually reach the broomsticks. In the end it was lashed to the railing. This actually worked well in that it was stable against the wind, and would allow rain to run off the tarp onto the lawn. Fortunately it didn't rain, but the tarp kept the sun off everyone anyway.

Lunch went without too many hitches. The families met and got on well. We did have to keep Pheobe the dog on a lead as She is still young and a bit nippy, worrying the younger folks. Basil the cat still showed up to hassle the Pheob and provide a WWE wrestling-type event to keep the lunch crowd entertained. Everyone was stuffed rotten on the ham, turkey, chicken and seafood. I believe there was also some salad, but personally I don't touch the filthy stuff (pretty sure I'll be in trouble for that!) There was a huge variety and quantity of deserts, more than enough to put anyone whose so chose into a diabetic coma.

We actually had fewer folks for dinner, as a some of the lunch crowd went home, and fewer than we expected arrived to replace them. Once again, the beasts provided the entertainment, this time, due to the lack of kids, free of leads.

As I write this, the tables are still arranged outside. I may leave them 'till New Years. We have a huge stockpile of wine, some of it very nice, and a bunch of leftover grub. Not a bad day. Except that the Girlie instructed folks to give us gardening vouchers for gifts. Guess who's gonna be doing the digging...

Catching up...

2005-12-15T20:13:00.000+13:00

Haven't posted in a while, but I will try to fill in the gaps with some retro-con posting...

Meanwhile, a quick roundup of the last month:-

-Had a 2.5 day seminar with Rahneer from Bakbakan Australia (day after my birthday). Learnt a lot, sweated a lot, some bruises.

-Went to Sydney for the Girlie's Mum's birthday. Highlights inluded a trip to the zoo with the Sis-in-law, Hubby and monsters. Trip on the Monorail. Some sightseeing. Low-lights included worst weather in living memory, crap service at the famous Doyle's seafood place, getting lost in the terminals (and boy, won't the Girlie remember that one!)

-Another seminar with Rahneer, two actually. One on knife, one on Lameco eskrima. Very interesting. And a grading on the Monday night. Good news: I'm (provisionally) a 7th grade in Bakbakan kali. Bad news: lotsa bruises. (When sparring was called, I thought "I'll be fighting Jarred". Guess what? - Right! Why can't I get lotto like that. At least I didn't get a cracked rib, and I managed to zing him a few times. But all in all, that boy is *entirley* too fit...)

Oh, and there was some work stuff, some family birthdays, Works Xmas lunch and miscellaneous other crap.

Here's a picture of the cat. Note the drool on the cushion...

Of course Pheobe can look silly when She's sleeping. Especially if I put the giraffe She normally chews the crap out of under Her paw while She's snoozing...

Sometimes, She sleeps in our bed...

Then there are 2 girls hogging the blankets!

Happy Birthday to me!

2005-11-11T22:43:00.000+13:00

Today was my birthday. I turned 37. Earlier in the week, I couldn't remember how old I was and tried to work it out. I got three different answers. I presume 37 is about right.

How did I celebrate the anniversary of my triumphant arrival on the planet? I had a shit day of work! I had a bunch of stuff to do in the office in the morning, but in the PM I went off to the new prison to finish some work. One building on this just is a busy one. There are more than half a dozen aerials to go on the roof of this building, and it's a 2 storey job. But even then, it ain't that easy. Being a building in a prison, not all of the rooms are able to be accessed from the others, and the upper floor is physically split in 2 with a double height sally port in the middle of the building. All this makes for a *really* fun job!

And the 2 most difficult cable runs are to radios on the lower floor that, I'm pretty sure, are never going to be used, or even turned on... both of these runs come up from the lower floor, and sneak along and up to the roof, but neither of them could be completed when I did the rest, as some of the rooms they went through weren't completed. So I ran the cables, left heaps to finish the job, and bunched them up, ready to finish later. Today was later.

The first one, I couldn't complete because the cable went through a plant room that the cable tray hadn't been completed in, so I ran it as far as the tray went, coiled up the remainder, and fed a cable connected to the aerial on the roof down into the room from above. Today, when I came back to it, I was pleased the cable tray had been completed, right up to where my cable from above came down. I was somewhat less pleased when I couldn't find my other cable. I went back to where the cable entered the room. the hole had been sealed up with a fire seal, and my cable had been fed back into the room it came from. The only thing left in this room was a small loop of cable. Shit. As this room isn't connected to the rest of the bulding by an internal door, I had to go outside, all the way round to the only open door, and inside to the other room.

My cable was coiled up in the ceiling of a toilet, about 3 metres from an access hatch. So I went to see the building foreman, as I was pretty sure I shouldn't mess with a fire seal. I eventually found him and told him my problem. He told me I could pull the cable back through, just make as little mess as possible. I asked about the coiled up cable in the loo ceiling, miles away from the hatch. He told me *HE* could easily reach it, and what was my problem? I went away before commiting a crime... I'm *NOT* a small guy, I wouldn't dream of climbing into the ceiling after the cable. This guy had 15 or so years of doughnuts on me. My *ARSE* he could climb up there and not wreck the entire room. I looked around the place for another hatch, but rapidly concluded the guy was full of shit.

So I made up a hook and a pole and pulled the cable to the hatch, where I untangled it enough to be pulled back into the plant room. After much wailing, swearing, gnashing of teeth, and commenting on the foreman's parentage, I finished the run and joined the cables. Surely the other one would be easier. After all, it was my birthday.

Ha.

This cable, like the previous one, was to join to another one connected to an outside aerial. This cable came from below and into a plant room. The plant room connected to a storeroom, and then led to a secure storage room where the other cable came down from the roof. When I ran the cable, there were no walls separating the rooms, so I didn't have anything to run the cable along up to the cable tray.

Well, I get to the plant room, and there's a wall. Good. There is a cable conduit on it, that I can put my cable in. Cool. It runs along the lower wall and up... into a locked power box. Shit. Time to go see the foreman again. Hooray. Happy birthday to me. I need this cabinet opened, I say. No worries, he says. Just find this guy. There are at least 3 major electrical contractor working on this site. Guess which ones don't know anything about this cabinet. Happy birthday.

Eventually I find the right guy, and about this time I'm pretty much thinking my chances of sloping off home early are shot. He is very unkeen to let my stuff go through his cabinet. I don't give a shit and tell him radio has priority over any non-essential services, as it is directly related to staff health (eg in case of a riot etc). This is complete crap, but the guy seems to buy it, which is good, 'cause I don't now anywhere nearby to dispose of a body. So he unlocks the cabinet and buggers off.

I run my cable through the cabinet, very neatly, I might add, and up to the cable tray to the next room, as I'm doing this I have a little niggking feeling that something is off... I pull the cable through and stretch it along the floor to the secure room. It barely reaches. I *know I had more than enough to reach, and then some. Then it hits me what was niggling earlier. SOME BASTARD HAS MOVED THE CABLE TRAY!!! I notice new ducting overhead, and assume this is why. None of which helps me though...

I go to the other end, and see how much cable I've got to play with from the aerial. Not all that much, because, as I recall, I had heaps from the other end. Many happy returns. I stretch out as much as I can, and it looks like I've got enough to do the job. Section by section I run the cable from the plant room along the tray to just outside the secure room. I'm noticing how quiet it is, because it is so late, and everyone has pretty much gone home for the day. With my cables meeting, I go downstairs to get the connectors to join them.

I come back, with the connectors to COMPLETE AND UTTER TOTAL DARKNESS. Really. I'm not making this up. Someone has turned off the power to the building, before going home... So, 3 metres off the ground, with a small torch and almost no room for error, I try to solder the connectors to the cable, needing hands to hold the cable, the connector, the soldering iron, the solder and the torch. An maybe a hand to balance me on the top of this ladder, which is too short. In a dark, empty building, with no-one around to help me if I fall off.

Happy birthday.

I finished the job without killing myself. And I bought a Playstation and a couple of games on the way home.

A Visit to Clint's place.

2005-10-27T23:02:00.000+13:00

A while ago, I trained with an arnis group on the Shore. The style wasn't really me and I eventually grew unsatisfied with the way training was going and left the group. From time to time, I would get in contact with the Aprentice instuctor, Clint. We even trained together last year at the Inosanto seminars in Sydney (along with his then-partner-now-fiance, Mel).

Now, Clint has organised his own school, so tonight Damian and I went for a visit. We had a play with his students, and helped out with the teaching. I even had a wee spar with him.

Here's Clint and John (one of His students) having a play.

And here's Damian having a spar with another student. (note the speedy striking!)

Clint's school is well set out and his club is expanding. It'll be nice to have some more like-minded folks to play with... And some of them are coming to train with Marc Denny in December.

Bath day

2005-10-25T22:39:00.000+13:00

Pheobe has a big day tomorrow, Her first Puppy Training class. She is, however a bit whiffy and in need of a serious de-skanking. So, armed with a lavander doggy shampoo, the Girlie sets out to give the puppy a bath.

(Cue Indiana Jones theme...)

The venue for the doggy-dunking was the kitchen sink. (And I have to eat off stuff washed in there - yeuck!)

Needless to say, Pheob was less than impessed with the idea.

My phone camera was really not able to capture the full pissed-off-ed-ness of the beastie. (Maybe I need a new phone. Nokia do a nice one with 2 Mpixels and Carl Zeiss optics... I would be killed by the Girlie if I bought 2 new phones within 6 months though!) I mean, She (Pheobe) was *really* not happy. Pics don't convey the whole thing, video would be better.

Now that is not a happy doggy... (Actually, this shot is of Her trying to escape Her soapy fate.)

She smelt really nice afterwards.

Fun on Labour Day

2005-10-24T22:12:00.000+13:00

Today was a holiday, and, contrary to tradition, very pleasant, sunny weather. So, I went to training. We played with knives.

Here's Jackson and Pat getting it on.

And here's Jackson doing something tricky with his feet.

Justin's saying "Hi" to Pete... Spot who's done wing chun!

All in all, a good session. Quite a difference with everyone wearing headgear, having to watch face shots sharpens your game. And hurts your head...

After training I took advantage of the nice weather... by mowing the lawn :(

Puppy Logistics

2005-10-12T00:49:00.000+13:00

Puppies are a *lot* of work. They poo a *lot*, generally where you don't want them to, and pee as well. Actually, I can't really think of anywhere I'd *like* someone to poo/wee, so I guess it's a best-fit kind of thing...

Anyway, Pheob poos and wees inappropriately a lot. The solution is to leave her outside when we are at work. Problem is, She may escape under the fence. We have two yards, front and back. The front yard leads from the front gate to the front door, and includes the deck. It's by far the bigger fenced area. The back yard has a gate, but also a shed, and two fences, neither of which are too secure. So, in order to keep the house free of crap, we need to let Pheob out during the day, while we're at work. In order to keep her inside the yard, I have to put a plank at the bottom of the gate. No worries, I thought. Then I had a good look at the fence.

There is a second gate in the fence, and almost none of the fence is actually flush with the ground. A little puppy, like ours, for example, could easily escape through the gaps. So, I had to fill in the holes. I thought I would need wood, so I swiped a palette from work. I got it home, and tried to disassemble it with a claw hammer. Not an easy job. I swore a lot. Eventually, I had all the bits apart. Not enough wood.

Luckily, it's inorganic collection time in Howick. So, I went searching for palletes to use. I ended up driving home in the dark, with four palettes strapped to my roof rack. Too late to finish the job as it is dark, and I am sick of the hammer nonsense. So we are resigned to another day of crap in the house, and I bought a crowbar to tear down the palettes.

Next day, I rip down the palettes, start to board up the holes,but don't finish in time. So one more day of crap. Meanwhile, the cat needs access to the house, so he can eat. So we leave the cat door unlocked thinking a 6 week old puppy can't use it.

You can see where this is going, can't you.

I come home at lunchtime, to see the beasts, and try to finish boarding up the fence. I'm met by Pheobe in the drive-way. It would appear She watched Basil go in and out of the cat door. OK, so we have a smart dog. Like I needed a more challenging home-life!

So, I board up the fence and let the doggy run free. This still leaves a logistics problem. Baz needs access to his food. We have moved it off the ground, onto the clothes-dryer. He can get there using a laundry basket as a step, but Pheob cannot. So his food is safe. However his access is an issue. When Pheob is outside, in the front yard, we can leave the cat-doot unlocked, and Baz has the run of the house (as he is used to). During the time we are home, the cat door had to be set to "enter only" so Baz can get in, but Pheob can't get out. If Baz needs out, he'll let us know.

As good plan, we thought.

However...

The next night, I hear a coughing sound. At first I think it's Pheob, as She's on the bed, and has been sneezing. I listen a bit more, and it's not in the bedroom. Maybe it's Baz, I think, I head towards the lounge. and his bed (alhough later on in the night, he usually sleeps on the bed. One Night, I rolled over on my front. Baz climbs up on my shoulders and settles down, and Pheob snuggles up to my leg...) But the Baz is in the hallway, and I can still hear the noise. It's more like spitting now... I head into the kitchen, turning on the light. I look at the wooden blinds, and I can see a *very* pissed off cat trying to get out the window. I't isn't open. I try to shepard the cat out of the kitchen, into the laundry. It leaps out like a demon. I gotta say, I wouldn't want to be in it's way.

However, I can't get to the cat door to open it. Not without being shredded by this monster cat, anyway. Meanwhile, Pheobe has come trotting down to see wht all the fuss is about. Baz is hiding in the hall, and the Girlie thinks I'm shouting at a burglar. (if that were the case, I'd have had an excuse to test my new blades...). I pick up Pheob and put her on the kitchen table, out of harms way. I then run and open the front door, and shove this nasty cat through the house with a mop.

After all of this is done, I realise, I'll have to secure the back yard as well...

When Basil met Pheobe...

2005-10-09T11:18:00.000+13:00

No, this isn't another Tom Hanks shlock-fest...

We are now in the postition of being a multi-beast family. A zoo, of a kind, if you will. A major concern I had at the outset of this whole puppy thing, was how the Baz would react. Now, Basil's my boy. Ok, he was originally the Girlie's pet, but, hey, he's a guy. So we hang out a lot. He sleeps on my side of the bed. (But that might be because I have less make-up and crap on my bedside table to knock over.) I play tag with him. This is quite funny to watch. I rawk him up for a while, then run away, and he chases me through the house. It's as funny as all hell, and as soon as I figure out how to get some video hosted, I'll post some.

So, I was concerned at the effect a new beastie would have on all of this. The first day we had Pheobe, Baz kept out of the limelight. In the lounge, Baz sleeps on the ottoman.

This is his place, and no-one else's. He has his blanket and everything. Occasionally, we might put a pizza there, but if we do, we relinquish all ownership rights, and it is the Baz's to plunder.

It is also higher off the ground than Pheobe can reach, being only 6 weeks old and tiny.

But sometimes, actually most times, 'cause She whimpers, we'll put Her on the couch. At this point, Basil's santuary is within puppy striking distance. A puppy Baz has known only 1 day.

What happens?

Well, Pheobe, wanders across to see Baz.

Understandably, Basil is disturbed.

This little beast shows up and pesters him, wakes him up, and then sniffs around his bed!

I'm sorry, but it's the bash for you my little friend!!!

So, Pheobe falls off, and, for the sake of a quiet life, we move the ottoman away from the couch.

Later in the week, Pheob tries jumping across. No chance in hell of actually making it, but funny to watch!

It seems puppies, like kids, (as seen on funniest home videos shows) can knock six kinds of shit out of themselves, but not be too badly damaged.

In time, Baz and Pheob start to chase each other around a lot. Some of this happens in the garden.

As you can see by his relaxed attitude, and general lack of defence, Baz ain't too worried by Pheob. In fact, as they chase each other around the place, I don't have to put in as much work to keep the cat entertained...

In fact, after a big session of chasing each other (and the funny part is, the lead changes. Sometimes Baz chases Pheobe, other times Pheob will barrel past with Baz in pursuit), but after they need to lie down in the sun...

Sometimes, Pheob will retreat to her bed...

Other times, She'll snuggle up to the Girlie...

In all, they seem to be getting on OK...

Heeeeeeres Pheobe!

2005-10-08T10:44:00.000+13:00

Today, I didn't go to training. I was too "tired" from last night. Honest! So, I stayed in bed when the Girlie goes out to collect the newest member of our family. After a while, She arrives home with Ashleigh, our niece, and a little puppy. Pheobe.

Isn't She a wee cutie?

This is her playing with Ashleigh (well, you can see Ashleigh's feet!).

In due course many folks arrive to see the new creature. Mandy, the Girlie's sister brings along Dan, Ashleigh's brother. Oh, and Simon, her hubby, shows up too! The new beastie jumps, frolics and plays, much to everyone's delight.

Now, all this new animal stuff is fine and dandy, but we already have an existing beast. The Baz.

I wonder how He's gonna deal with all of this?

So we had a few beers...

2005-10-07T06:44:00.000+13:00

Tonight I took Kurt out for a few beers. He's got a lot of stuff going on at the moment, and I thought it would be a good idea to take his mind off it all. Ordinarily tonight would have been a 2600 night, but all the hackers were out of town, playing poker, or, in Morgan's case, stricken with the plague.

It's been a while since I went out drinking with Kurt, maybe 5 years or more, since we were in the infamous Home street flat. (I'll have to write about *that* place some day...)

He rocked over after work, dinner and de-pigging and had a few road drinks, then off to the bus. Ordinarily I try and have a drink on the bus (I know, very student-like, but old habits and all...) but there was no-where on this bus this driver didn't see, so no go. (Besides, it's a long ride to town, and a full bladder is nooooo fun!)

First stop (after rapidly sculling my bus-drink) was Galbraiths, where I would normally have been for 2600. No hackers, and not too many other folk either. After finishing our drinks we strolled down Mt Eden road, and up through the Boston roundabout past the prison. (Where I have spent *entirely* too much of my time of late!) There are a couple of pubs near here that I see when I do jobs for Corrections, but for various reasons (ie WORK) I'm normally unable to stop for a bevvy.

First of these pubs was the Cardrona Speights Pub. A shameless attempt to cash in on the apparent Auckland fascination for the "Southern Man" lifestyle of Otago, this place is decked out like a barn, but with a bar in it. (think a shabbier version of the loaded hog, with less office girlies in it.) Apparently this is what Aucklanders think an authentic Southern pub is like. This is complete nonsense, as I have been in a few of those pubs (quite a few, if truth be told) and they don't look nuthin' like this place.

Anyway, the bar is *very* loud, with a band inside and one half of the place pretty full and "appreciating" the music. It is *way* too loud to talk. The other side of the bar has a bunch of tables (all empty) and is obviously where lunch and stuff happens during the day. Nice and quite over there so we sit down. Only it's closed, according to the bouncer. So we have to retreat outside, to the cold, the wet, and the smokers. Now I'm all for the smoke-free bar bit, but this is one of the times it ain't so good.

We finish up, leave, and look in the door of the place just down the road. They look a bit rustic on the outside, and have a big Mac's Gold sign up, so I assume it's another attempt at what is done across the road. Only, on peering inside, it's not. Looks more cafe and wine bar, and it's empty, so we pass. On the was back up to Mt Eden road we get hassled for change by drunk guy. Kurt refuses saying he'll only buy drink with it. The guy seems ok with this and continues on his way.

Up though Mt Eden road and to the Corner Store, opposite Galbraiths (where we started). I have vague memories of drinking with Chris and his Brother here. Something about a small fire and being banned for life... I don't see my picture on the wall, and the bar dude seems not to recognize me, so we have a beer here. Out side it's absolutely pissing down, so we sprint up to Symonds st for cover.

Kurt doesn't like the look of any of the bars along here, so we decide to head into town, preferably to a back-packers bar, 'cause the folks are usually more interesting. (True story: Kurt has travelled a bit and is into different cultures. One day we're in Albert park watching a gig when a guy dressed like he's out of a Brothers Grimm story walks past. Kurt wanders up and starts talking to the guy. Apparently certain trades-guilds have a not-to-often-observed tradition of sending trainees out into the world to practice their trades, as a finish to their apprenticeships. It's no longer compulsory, but you have to do it in traditional dress. Long story short, long afternoon and evening spent hanging out in the bars drinking with a bunch of these folks. Fairly interesting time actually...) The problem is, we are a fair way away from any of these places, and the rain has got even worse. We wait for a cab and eventually hail one, and we split the trip with a Japanese couple off to a yakitori bar at the bottom of town.

We scour the bottom of town for somewhere interesting to drink. Eventually we settle on the Occidental. This place is now one of a small chain of Belgian bars, with food to match. Most of the other ones have, for some reason, been opened in old Post Offices. Maybe there's something about the Belgium Post Office I don't know. This particular one is in the remains of the old Occidental Hotel. I can remember there were two bars here, joined but a small connecting door at the toilet end. One side was an old-style public bar, with long tables and beer by the jug. A cheap place to drink. Not too flash, but the punters weren't yuppie scum (this was the nineties remember!) The other part of the bar was an saloon style lounge bar, with the velvet wallpaper and fake pig-iron candelabra lamps. At some point it must have been quite flash and upmarket. Probably before I was born, *definitely* before I ever went there. But when I drank there it was full of art students and alternative types. It had one of the very best juke-boxes in town. But, alas, all this is gone. We have our euro-beers, and head off in search of better bars. While walking around, we re-encounter our drunk friend from Mt Eden, again he asks for money, again Kurt tells him no, he'll only be drinking it. But, this time he protests, saying he won't. We're unconvinced, and he wanders off.

The first few backpackers we pass have unrealisitic queues outside, the others have even more unrealistic cover charges. I *never* pay for the privillige of buying beer at inflated prices! So we head to Murphy's, as Irish bars are usually nearly as good. Unfortunately someone has remodelled the place. What was once a charmingly shabby, mild health code violation of a place has had a makeover, and it now looks just as sterile as many of the other shrink-wrapped Paddy-pubs in town. This is a sad thing, and I'm nearly tempted to go elsewhere, but they have beer here, and it's been a while since I had some... The really crap, non-Irish band ensure that we only have one beer...

Time is marching on (it's well after midnight now) and the good places seem to be either closed, or drastically over-populated. In the end, after passing the old Brownies bar (now an Irish bar, unfortunately closed) and the Paua Palace (are you kidding!?!?) we head into the Dispensery bar. This is a hospo bar, and I used to come here with friends in the trade. There is a room upstairs that can be accessed with the appropriate secret handshake. Although both our hands do indeed shake, there ain't nothing secret about it, so we stay downstairs. The bar is crowded, which is usual for this time, so eventually we get our beer and find nowhere at all to sit. I can remeber being in here on one of those great days. The ones where you and some pals have the day off, but everyone else is at work. There is something rather attractive about being lightly toasted with your mates, watching everyone else scuttle around working. Tonight, however is not like this. There are other places we could try, the Immigrant for example, but Kurt seems to be flagging, and there are only 2 buses left. We head back downtown to catch one, and the Girlie calls. I tell her (truthfully!!!) we're on our way...

All in all we had a good night, not too drunk (probably 8 or so beers, over 6 or more hours), but nicely buzzed. Too buzzed, in fact to train in the morning. Actually, I was tired.

No, really!

No puppy just yet

2005-10-06T08:42:00.000+13:00

Basil the cat has at least one more day before he has to put up with a new "pal".

The Girlie has been keen on a dog for ages, but we've been unbale to entertain the idea until we moved to Howick, as we'd only been in Flats, with no fences. Now She wants a dog.

The subject of a dog went in a dicussion like this:

"I think we should get a dog", says the Girlie.
"Dunno if the cat would dig it too much", I replied.
"Oh, It'd just be a small one."
"Smaller than Basil?"
"Yeah, a litle dog. Like an Australian Terrier. Here, look at these pictures I found on the net."
"Hmmm, you've done a lot of research. Specific breed and everything"
"We get her in 3 weeks..."
"What?!?!?!?!?"

It seems I'd been hustled. (Seems to happen a lot...)

I asked various folks about dogs in general and terriers in particular:
"It'll ruin your lawn mate. Poo everywhere!"
"Terriers run around like they're on crack, Your cat is gonna love it!"
"Get ready to stand in heaps of poo and wee, amd have everything you own all chewed to hell"

You may be able to appreciate my apprehension.

So, we have a new animal coming. The little beast was going to join the house on Friday. This would have been fairly amusing, as it's the first Friday of the month. This is when I go to 2600, and drink heaps with a bunch of hackers. My first introduction to the dog would be falling over it, in a messy state, at 3 in the morning.

But, we have a stay of execution. Apparently the Girlie has to pick the dog up on Saturday instead. That's good, could I'd *really* like to see Basil's reaction to it...

Big Day Out!!!!!!!!

2005-10-05T10:22:00.000+13:00

First Big Day Out lineup announcement today...

Iggy and the Stooges, Franz Ferdinand, White Stripes, Mars Volta, Sleeter Keeny, and a bunch of others, including some great local acts (Fat Freddies Drop, for example)

Looking forward to Jan 20th next year!

Back to Balintawak

2005-10-04T10:26:00.000+13:00

Kurt and I went back to Balintawak tonight. I took Damian along to have a look, but it obviously wasn't his thing.

It truned out we couldn't rememebr very much. I could do about half of the advanced block and counter drills, and hardly any of the groups. Need lots more practice.

And with GM Bobby Taboada coming in a month (Nov 5, to be precise) I need to do *lots* of practice.

Work Conference, casinos and the Auckland harbour bridge

2005-10-01T09:59:00.000+12:00

This weekend we had our annual work conference. Actually, conference is a bit innaccurate. We do about 2 or 3 hours of discussion about the company, then eat and drink the rest of the weekend. All on the company. We get to stay in a flash hotel (the new Sky City Grand, this year). And we do some kind of activity.

In previous years we've go jetboating, floated through a cave (in the dark), and watched a rugby game. This year we walked the harbour bridge. Basically you walk under the bridge to halfway, then walk up, between the sections of the bridge (with traffic wizzing past), over the highest part of the supports (above the traffic) and back. Maybe I'm a bit jaded, but it wasn't all that scary... Nice view though.

The hotel was very nice. I was *seriously* contemplating nicking one of the bathrobes, but the Girlie had put her credit card imprint down at reception, and I don't like the idea of being murdered in my sleep over a dressing gown.

We had dinner at a very flash resturaqnt in the hotel, formal(ish) dress and all. Food was nice, and I had a whitebait fritter, cost :$35! I can remember being able to catch the things in the stream at my old school with a kitchen strainer, so I think Auckland prices are a *bit* excessive!

After dinner everyone (bar the Girlie, who was a bit knackered and retired) headed off to the casino. Maybe it's my Scots blood, but I've never really been big on the gambling. The extent of my fluttering is lotto ocasionally. I haven't even bet on a horse race. My trip to the casino did not change my opinion. I was expecting something like a James Bond movie. Needless to say, I wasn't impessed. *Lots* of gaming machines at one end and around the edges, but the games were in the middle. I wandered around for at least an hour, but just couldn't get into it. I was watching some Americans playing blackjack, trying to get the hang of it. After a while, one of them turned around amd cussed me out for hanging around... I must have been 2 or 3 metres back, and never made a sound. I guess he thought he was a big time gambler. Which is why he was playing the cheapest table, I guess.

Beatings in a scout hall in Howick

2005-09-14T21:36:00.000+12:00

Just a few pics from tonights training:

Justin and Peter about to stab each other (padded knives, honest!)

Cuts and thrusts to the arms and body are allowed, but no head-shots without helmets.

Justin has been disarmed (see the knife by Pete's feet), and is running away from an immanent gutting by Pete.

Now it's stick sparring, and Pete has just whacked Justin on the arm.
For this round we're only targeting the weapon arm. We use padded sticks and gloves. We wear helmets for sparring to head and body (and a box, to be safe).

This is Damian delivering a strike to Pete. As you can see from the blur, it's travelling pretty fast. It's no fun being on the back-end of one of these.

Happy Birthday The Girlie!!!

2005-07-20T10:41:00.000+12:00

Today is the Girlie's birthday. (I'm not brave or stupid enough to contemplate mentioning an age hear, so don't even think about asking!) I was fully prepared to make Her breakfast, but She prefered to sleep instead. Before I left, I gave her one of Her prezzies. This was a jewellery box, but you have to slide a pannel to one side to make it open. I hid a small bag of chocs inside, and watched Her try to open it. I had to show Her how to open it, before She bust it.

This was but one of Her gifts. One Sunday, we went shopping for birthday stuff. She needed a pair of training shoes, so I told Her what the budget was. We went and found suitable footware, for way less than we thought. So off to spend the rest of the budget! (Mutter, mutter, mumble, mumble...) We spent an hour or two wandering around getting bits and pieces. Then afterwards I dropped Her home, while I went off to get a few suprises (the jewellery boz and chocs for example).

All in all, not a bad way to do the present thing, I thought.

I happened to mention it to Ed at training last night, as it's why we didn't train om Sunday. Ed's wife happened to be watching training last night, as Her mother was looking after the kids, and She was keep to get out. Her eyes lit up when Shes heard about the birthday shopping spree. She told Ed that She loved the idea. Ed seemed less so... I think He's going to hit me, very hard, some time soon.

Anyway ......

Happy Birthday Girlie!!!!!!

Much wailing and gnashing of gears

2005-07-20T10:18:00.000+12:00

Work has provided me with a new car!!!!

Well, let me qualify that. It isn't new, as in brand new. It's the car our Wellington branch used to use, ofter having everything checked and fixed. It is newer than 15 years old though, less than 5 in fact. And it's not an import with a dubious history. I was bought new in NZ, so we know all that's happened to it.

It has a nice stereo (it HAS a stereo!). All the windows open AND close. The heater works. As does the air conditioning and the de-misters. It doesn't overheat. It doesn't leak. It has back seats. It has central locking, by remote, and an alarm. All the doors lock. And it's a manual.

I hadn't driven a manual since I first learned to drive, some 10 or so years ago. This was a big old nasty van my Cousin bought from the electicians his Dad works for. It was very tall and very light, and needed sacks of concrete in the back to stop it getting blown around in high winds. In fact I remembered more about the van than how to drive a manual. I was basically given the car and told "off you go". The title of this blog should let you know the results...

To be honest, I don't think I'm doing too badly. The night after I got it, the Girlie and I went monster-sitting at her Sister's and I drove there. She showed world class restraint. Then again, I had informed Her that She would be walking if I heard any un-toward comments...

The only other person I've driven in it was Kurt, to training last night. When He saw it and sat in the passenger seat he had these comments:

"Something doesn't feel right... Oh, yeah, the seat's not wet."

"You haven't had it long, 'cause I can put my feet down"

(This second refers to the fact the floor on the passenger side was normally full of crap in the old car)

He didn't seem too scared by my driving.

How to outsmart your cat (or not...)

2005-06-08T10:11:00.000+12:00

I've come to the realisation that, although I pay half the mortgage, and have half the debt, I'm only a third-owner of our house. The Other two being the Girlie, and Basil the cat. I'm not even going to speculate who of those two is the senior partner!

Basil has got himself into a rythmn in the mornings. Around 5:30 (usuallly within a minute or two) there is a "meeeeoooww" as he launches himself up and onto the bed, and straight onto me. If this wakes me up, I have to get up and feed him. I try to justify it to myself by saying I'm going to the toilet, and, since I'm up, I'll feed him. But in practice, I'm basically the cat's bitch...

If I sleep though his initial attack, the is a progression he goes through. After jumping around on my body and head, if he gets no response he goes to my bedside table. He will then cause wanton destruction until I aquiese. The bedroom furniture, including these tables, is very flash. It is the Girlie's pride and joy. I am NOT, under ANY circumstances, allowed to put anything hot or cold directly onto it. Not without some kind of coaster or cover. I don't even want to think what would happen to me if I spilt anything on it. So, given Basil's tactics, I don't leave any drinks on it.

If he fails at the bedside table, he quickly checks to see if I'm faking. I'm not kidding! The other day I woke up and he was "sleeping" right next to my head. He turned around and I quickly closed my eyes. A few minutes later I opened one eye for a quick peek, and came eyeball-to-eyeball with the cat. He had busted me, and I knew it. So up I got to feed him...

Anyway, If he's happy I'm not faking he goes to the next level, and jumps on the headboard. The TV and video remotes are up there, and he will try to knock them onto my head. If he fails at this stage, he knows things are desparate, and I'm not going to respond. So he goes to the Girlie's bedside table...

There is a reason he bothers me and not The Boss. Basil knows She will not wake up, for any reason, especially not his over-fed belly. This is why jumping all over her will achieve nothing. She won't get up, and I'll still be asleep. However, he knows that if he's woken me up but I've managed to stay in bed, the next step is vital. Basil will jump onto the Girlie's bedside table. This table has all her Girlie stuff on it, lots of little jars and bottles. The clattering will have barely begun before the Girlie's swift and terrible response. Basil will fly at high speed from the table, but as he leaves the room, he shoots me an "it's all your fault" look. At this point, having been the architect of this chaos, I guiltily get up, to go to the "toilet"...

New FMA group in town

2005-05-13T20:01:00.000+12:00

Hmmmmmm, long time, no blog...

Still settling in to the new house, but it's familiar enough now that I managed to find my way home after a 2600 meeting last week. Didn't feel at all well the next day though, maybe hangovers are worse in Howick than in Te Atatu...

Slightly positive result from the meeting though, I managed to get a few more bodies interested in the eskrima class. Only one of them was well enough to train on Sunday morning, the others were MIA. (Although one had been kidnapped by wanton women, so big ups to him!).

On the whole training thing, two things. Firstly, I really have to do something about my elbow. JKD training is ramping up, to get Jarrod ready for his training session / instructor grading in the UK later this year, so we have Wednesday training devoted to conditioning. I went to one class, but we did so much pad-work, my arm was basically useless for a couple of days .

Secondly, there is a new FMA group in Auckland, and I came across it by accident. I was looking at trademe, which is basically a New Zealand version of e-bay. Normally I check out the martial arts section (though there's mostly not much there) as well as computers, radio and also fencing and hockey (for the helmets, of course!). In the MA section, there was someone offering Rey Galang's new book on FMA, and mentioning a club. I got in contact and found the guy was a Bakbakan member, with particular interest in knife and long blade. These are pretty much the areas my usual training doesn't cover. Long story short, the guy lives in my suburb, and is opening a school a few blocks away. I mentioned it to a few of my training partners. Jarrod said "make sure he trains when we don't", and yep, he does.

The news is even better. Rey Galang is doing some seminars in NZ later in the year! So that's him, Bobby Taboada, Dan Inosanto, (possibly) Ray Floro, and (hopefully) Gordon the Doce Pares instructor. Add to that the fact that Jarrod is going to come back from the UK with a *lot* of information, and possibly entry to the Inosanto instructor program, and we are going to have a bunch of cool training soon....

The new landlords are idiots! At least the wife is...

2005-03-22T09:45:00.000+12:00

As I said last week, we weren't too impressed with the couple who bought the place we're renting. After the showed up unannounced, which ruins our "quiet enjoyment" of the property (according to the Tenancy act), they pulled some other crap on Sunday morning. They had told us they were doing maintenance on the exterior, but they wouldn't be inside (damn right they wouldn't!).

Anyway, the Girlie's in bed and I'm trying to get ready to head off and teach an eskrima class when they knock on the door. The wife then tells us they have a valuer checking the property out on Wednesday morning. I say that's not convenient, as neither the Girlie nor myself can be there then. She says it's already been booked, and they've given us all the notice they have to. I tell them I don't think that's what the act says and trot off to tell they Girlie.

"Hell no, they can get f****d!", says the normally un-profane Girlie. "They aren't coming in if we're not here! End of story!" I shrug, and head off back to the front door. To see, from her face, the Wife heard the Girlie's response. "You have no choice!", she says. "I'm pretty sure we can attach reasonable conditions to our consent", I say. (Knowing I'm right, 'cause I know the Act). She is even more determined. The husband is backing off a bit, sheepishly. His look says "Why don't we just back off, and let these fiesty wenches have at it?" I'm inclined to agree. The Wife says she'll be calling the Tribunal on Monday. I wish her luck and close the door. This rather put me in the right frame of mind for fighting with weapons later in the day.

Later in the day, the husband calls up, having placated, or sedated, his wife. He says they won't be looking after the property till after we laeve, and we have final say on access and entry. I can imagine the wife, snarling and frothing in the background.

It's almost worth staying on a bit longer, just to wind her up some more. I'll just have to see if the Girlie can give her a heart attack, or hypertension in the 2 weeks we have left in the place. Maybe we'll get into a big sh*tfight over the bond...

St Paddy's day and more lawyers

2005-03-21T10:08:00.000+12:00

Thursday was St Patricks day, so being of Irish decent (roughly 1/4) it was a day off to indulge. At the start of each year at work, I organise 3 days off. The Big Day Out, St Paddy's and the day after (as I'm usually not a useful member of society afterwards!). This year was a bit less of a hooly than previously, though.

Started off with breakfast, but instead of being at a Pub it was at a cafe, with the Girlie, her Mum, and sister. But it wasn't as frightening as you might think (although I could *really* have done with a drink!!!). After this, the Girlie and I went of to see more lawyers, about the house. After signing the mortgage papers together I was tossed out of the room while She signed the papers for her end of some other stuff. I was them to organise another to sign my papers. The whole thing is about division of property after we split up, which I really wasn't planning on doing. We aren't even in the house yet... Oh well, needed to be done. I set up visiting a lawyer the next afternoon, As I should be "recovered" by then.

As it turns out, the lawyer we visited was in a block of shops with an Irish pub in it. So, lunch and a pint or two! Wasn't too bad actually, and it's just around the corner (easy stumbling distance) from the new house. It was nice for the Girlie too, and the pub was now legally smoke-free, which is good for an asthmatic. (I do like the new laws, nice not to stink of smoke after a nite out).

After this, we had preview tickets for a movie, "Be Cool", which is the sequel to "Get Shorty". Bloody good, actually, better than the original IMHO. Was quite funny to see the Rock (the wrestler) as a gay, samoan hitman.

We had a couple of hours to kill between the lawyers and movie, so we went to the pub. The cinema was in a mall, and, conveniently, the was a small pub in the mall, next to it in fact. There were St Pat's signs up, and posters of glasses of Guiness at the door. So I went up to the bar and ordered a pint of Guiness.

"Nope, we don't have it."
Eh? But you've got posters up!
"No we don't"
Yeah, you do. (And I went outside to have a look)

They did have Guiness posters. A big picture of a pint glass, with the Guiness harp logo on it. But, where the name was, they had put a little sticker saying "Heineken $3". There were more than one of these posters.

Unfortunately, we had no time to go anywhere else, so I relented. At least a Heineken bottle is green... We'd been in the place a while when the guy I'd hassled previously wandered around asking if anyone had ordered a lamb burger. I said no, but I'd like a Guiness. He seem a bit put out by this. The Girlie told me off for annoying the guy.

After the movie, I asked the Girlie if we was keen to have a few more drinks. Unfortunately She had to work the next day, but I was allowed out to play. So She dropped me off near were some of my dodgy hacker friends were having drinks. Finished up around midnight, but I declined to follow the guys further into town to party on. (I must be getting old...) I'm guessing, from some of thier states when I left, productivity would be markedly decreased on Friday...

After a nice sleep in, only occasionally interupted by cat assaults, I rose in time to have lunch with the Girlie and head off to see my lawyer. I'd never really done this before, never needed a lawyer. After talking to the guy on the phone, I thought he was newly out of school. When I arrived I'd say he was older than me (5 or so years at least). After a fairly boring explanation of a contract I already understood, he asked about my t-shirt. I was wearing a Balintawak eskrima shirt, and he asked what it was, so I told him it was a Filipino martial art. Turns out he had trained for years in my hometown, but in different stuff, and even knew some of my associates. He has an informal group who have sparring sessions in the Central police station gym, and before too long I was invited to come play. So it might turn out to be a bit interesting.

Still would have liked a Guiness from the bar in the mall though...

Sore arms, feet and landlords

2005-03-15T09:00:00.000+13:00

Well, we're *officially* unconditional on the new house. The owners agreed to do a couple of things (fix a broken mains socket, and sort out some plan issues with the council) So we're all set to move in the start of next month. That just leaves sorting out the old place.

To that end, we hired a large skip, and proceeded to fill it with crap. I knew I had a lot of stuff, but when you get to see the total volume of it, it's kinda scary. I was pretty ruthless and biffed a bunch of stuff I've been hoarding. Any excess furniture was left by the skip, and promptly taken away by other folks, thus contributing to someone else's collection of crap. This is pretty much how I got the stuff in the first place.

All of this lifting and heaving has aggravated an injury I seen to have aquired. Certain movements of my right arm cause a sharp pain at the elbow. My JKD instructor recons it's tennis elbow, and I should take it easy. This is difficult, as nearly all of my training, my work, and life in general need the use of my arm. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I think a combination of heavy stick training and poor weight-training is to blame.

Although it was a bit aggravated after teaching on Sunday, and I didn't train JKD/kali on Monday, last night's Balintawak training doesn't seem to have messed it up too much. Despite nearly every hit I took landing on my arm. Also, I discovered a fundamental rule of the universe: when training barefoot nearly every disarmed stick (yours, your partners, other people in the room...) will fly with great force and speed towards your exposed toes. Ouch!

On the weekend, the new owners of our current place "just happened" to drop by to introduce themselves. It this is how they're going to proceede (ie illegally showing up without notice) I'm glad we're moving out. The inbreds next-door are moving out too, this weekend in fact. We also found out the the end flat is not rented, but leased until the end of the year, and still managed until then by the monkeys who manage our place. So the new owners have essentially bought an empty place. Oh, how sad!

Dude, where's my water?

2005-03-04T07:48:00.000+13:00

We didn't get a lot of sleep last night. About 2.30 or so, there was a lot of noise, and a flashing orange light in the window. I looked out the blinds to see a utility van messing with something set in the pavement. After half an hour, or so, of twatting about, the guy packed up his van and buggered off. So back to sleep you may think. But you would be wrong.

Half an hour after the van guy goes, Basil (the cat) decides its a good time to practice his gymnastics. I'm made aware of this when he lands on me with a heavy thud. (I'm guessing he jumped from the draws with the tv on, by the impact.) Disappointed with his first attempt (I don't think he liked the score from the Romanian judge) He leaps off me, and on to the other draws. The Girlie has a couple of pieces of coloured glass up there, and She'll be pissed if the beast busts them, so I get up to move them away from the cat. This is obviously Basil's signal than I'm keen to play, and he starts boxing me. In order to avoid a beating, I retreat back to bed. When he doesn't leap after me, I nervously watch as he's poised, ready to spring, on the edge of the draws. Sure enough he does leap a few minutes later, but lands quietly at the bottom of the bed. Happily, he snuggles down between the Girlie and I, and settles down to sleep. Peace at last? Oh, no!

Another half hour(ish) later, van guy is back outside. Apparently he didn't make enough noise early, so he's back to rectify his oversight. Bang, bang, thud, thud. I head down to the lounge to get a better view of what he's doing, because (unlike the Girlie, who could sleep through a hurricane) I can't settle down with all this nonsense going on. It seems he's playing with something under a cover on the corner of the street. Whatever it is, it needs some oil, 'cause when he turns it, it squeaks like a bastard. When he's done squeaking, he's off again, up the road a bit further. I head back to bed, and try for more sleep. But he comes and goes another few times. Basil senses I'm awake, and therefore must feed him, so he jumps on me to let me know. It's very hard to ignore a cat bouncing on your head, but I seem to manage it. Figuring I'm not budging, he gives me a couple of swipes to the head, and then heads off outside to cause mischief elsewhere. And so to sleep.

A wee bit later it's six AM, and the Girlie's alarm goes off. But She can't be arsed, so She turns it off to wake up later. Unfortunately, I'm already awake and thoroughly resigned to my sleepless fate. She ambles up about 30 minutes or so later, and heads to the shower. Now, I like a long shower, but the Girlie, not so much. However She comes back in way sooner than I would have thought. "There's no water", She says. A-ha, so that's what van guy was doing... But who is to blame for this?

Ordinarily, I would blame our idiot property manager, as it would not be above her world-class ineptitude to cock up such a simple thing as paying the water bill on time. I'm ready to call her, this early, on her mobile. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to do so, in fact. (Well, other than posting her a fresh parcel of stinky animal turd, that is. Get the feeling I don't like her much?)But the Girlie thinks something greater is going on, and apparently it's my job to get up and call the council about it. What the hell, I wasn't doing any sleeping, anyway...

The council let me know that, yes there was a burst water main around 3 AM. Something like that we knew. They also say the water would be back on at 5, which of course, it was not. But they expect it back on at 7. The Girlie uses the last of the water to get ready, and I call my boss (getting his voicemail) to let him know I'm going to be late. Ordinarily, you may think I wouldn't worry about being a bit stinky at work. It certainly doesn't seem to worry some of my workmates. But most of this week, I'm working at the airport, and yesterday built up quite a sweat, and did not shower last night. (yes, I know, very manky) So I'd like to be a bit clean.

The second issue is the wonderful work car. I'm pretty much having to but water in it every day, because it's a useless piece of crap (like the guy who bought it, perhaps). The other day, I forgot to do this before I left. In the mornings there is a que to get out of our street. The longer I'm idling, the higher the temp gauge gets. On this particular day, before I even got onto the motorway, but at the point where I can't get off the road, the gauge is nudging red. So as soon as I'm on the motorway, I have to pull onto the shoulder, and wait for the thing to cool down. After 15 minute or so, I decide it's been time enough, and twist off the cap. Only to be treated to a hissing torrent of rusty water, which I manage to avoid, but the engine bay doesn't. Eventually it cools down enough to refill. Point of it all is that if than happened today, I'd have no water to fill it up again.

So I call one of the bosses, and leave a voice message. I don't think he knows how to retrieve this (yet he has a BE, with honours, so how does that work? He can't even TXT with his mobile!). I call back a bit later, to advise him that I'll be late, and he should tell the airport. I also remind him I have the afternoon off ('cause it's 2600 tonight, and I like to try and get there early!). Eventually, because he seems too dim to spot it himself, I tell him it might be easier if I had the whole day off (doesn't worry me, I have 9 weeks + leave). He (shockingly) manages to see the logic in this and agrees.

As I write this, it's 8.30 am and I'm stinkily waiting for the water to come back on.

Hooray!

The house hunting (may) be over ... the mortgage begins

2005-02-25T10:37:00.000+13:00

The great house hunt may finally be drawing to a close. About Freakin' time! We actually agreed on a place (or did I stop objecting?) in Howick. It's down a long drive, so it's cat-safe(ish). It has 3 bedrooms, the Girlie's beloved wooden floors and big kitchen, and a large deck. It seems to be missing my required garage, but at least there is room to put one (at some point, unknown and future distant).

This house-buying lark is a many-fraught thing. First of all you've got the hassle of finding somewhere, getting the sellers to take what you want to give them for it, then there's the mortgage... Mortgages are one of the reasons I've put off being a grown-up for so long. Once you think you want one, you have to convince a lender to give you one. Think for a minute about the process. Basically you're betting the bank that you can pay off a huge loan before you die, and your stake is your house. The bank will only consider the wager if they're absolutely certain they can sell your place for more than they are going to give you to buy it. That sounds pretty dodgy to me. Indentured servitude and loan-sharking in one neat package!

The process of getting eligible to bet your life on this big loan is no fun either. You must *never* have pissed off anyone in a credit-worthiness granting position. You must have not ever had strife with a utilities provider (oops, nearly ruled me out!) After you're fairly sure you won't get knocked back you have to visit a bank manager. Well, you used to do it in the olden days. Now they visit you in your own time (our guy arrived 9:45 in the evening!) at your own place. The guy arrived, got a coffee from us and then started a whole "so you want to borrow a quarter of a million dollars" bit. You then have to provide more documentation than you need to get onto a military base, just to prove you're who you say you are. Then the guy goes off to think about it for a while. After a bowel-shatteringly distressing wait, you have your loan.

I did a bit of math. Over 25 years we will be paying back nearly 3 times the amount we borrow. Apparently we are on a good interest rate. WTF???? Who the hell is it good for? The bank! These guys have so much money in mortgages, against which people have bet their houses. It'd be nearly impossible for a bank to loose money on the deal. Remember they know they'll sell your place for more than they lent you, so, loan covered. They know if you live long enough to pay the loan they're more than smiling. So let's see. In 12 years we'll have paid back what we borrowed plus 20 percent (a reasonable return, I thought). However we have to go twice that long, and pay back nearly that much again. Eeeek!

Is it just me, or is this the greatest scam ever?

Why real estate agents are stoopid

2005-02-10T16:28:00.000+13:00

This is rapidly becoming Mike's grumpy journal. Sorry...

We have the dubious pleasure of being at both ends of the property market right now. We are looking for a house (and I can't begin to tell you how delightful *that* is...) and the place we rent is up for sale.

We have a wonderful landlord. Great fellow. Lives just up the road. Or at least he used to. Now his ex-wife does, as he took off with one of the tennants of the block we rent. Unfortunately we don't see how wonderful he is, because the property is managed. These guys are complete pricks. Can't find their arses with both hands and a roadmap. And NEVER do anything except collect rent. They are also the people who are handling the real estate guy who is selling the block. Which has been, rather unsuprisingly, a mess.

Initially we made a few simple, and we think perfectly reasonable requests. No open homes. Give us notice when people are in the property. No viewings before 10 AM on the weekends. Perfectly reasonable, no?. So we get rung up at funny hours for viewings. No way, Jose! I decide I don't trust these guys not to show up unauthorised when we are out. So I begin a wee construction project.

Take one laptop, hard drive dead, but floppy drive working. Throw a very simple circuit on the parallel port, connect this to a reed switch at the door, and hack together a bit of code. End result, a dozen and a half lines of quickbasic (anyone remember that?) a DOS boot disk and a clever boot batch file, and I can tell time and date the door is opened (and save it to a log file on the disk) and it even beeps each time something happens (and reboots or other interference show up in the log too!). It's all set up *very* obviously, just to show any one up to no good that we're on to them. (Sometimes I'm such a geek, I scare myself!)

I needn't have bothered.

Tonight, I was at training, and the Girlie left the house to visit friends, to enable the real estate guys to show the place. She gets an angry phone call from the agents, demanding to know why she isn't there to let them in! Madness! I suppose, during the day we're supposed to leave work to let them in as well? Does that mean we get some of the comission when they sell it?

Looks like the property managers very efficiently provided them with the key! Right up to usual standards...

Living in a tent is starting to look attractive...

Drinking with hackers, hunting for houses

2005-02-08T16:26:00.000+13:00

The last one was a busy weekend. It started off with the Auckland 2600 meeting. Nope, it's not a 12-step program (quite the reverse actually). The first Friday of the month, all over the world, hackers and other techie inclined people gather and have a meeting. There's usually one in most major cities in the world. There are a few rules, everyone is welcome, psuedonyms can be used, held in a public place. (Except the Auckland one is always held in a pub, so no kiddies!) Generally we just drink and talk crap. Most folks who attend are in some kind of techie profession, so geekiness abounds. But not as much dodginess as you may think. (That said, we were reading the phone books of a few unsuspecting punters, over bluetooth. Couldn't change anything though!) We were at the pub till after 12, then wandered back to a local guy's flat for a few more ales. Then I went to play pool with a mate 'till 3am, knowing tomorrow was Saturday, and I could sleep in.

Until 9 oclock, when She Who Must Be Obeyed woke me up to go look at houses. To be honest, I'm a little sick of it. I hate moving. I just want somewhere to leave my stuff, essentially. The Girlie, however has a laundry list of requirements. Wood floor, big kitchen, indoor-outdoor flow ... (what the HELL is that? I blame all the home renovation/auction shows on TV!). I just want a big garage to have my training gear, computers, radio gear, and other gadgets. (I'm not even fussed if the car doesn't fit in it!). We have 2 areas were we do agree. Firstly, we don't need a big section with a big guarden, cause we'd never have time to maintain it, and the cat (the only kid we plan on having) always plays in the neighbours yards. The second thing is also partly car related. Somewhere off a main road, for Basil (the cat) safety, and general quietness. (One thing about living in West Auckland is that I've had to chase off boy racers more than once.)

We looked at (I guess) about a million places. It was hot, very muggy, and I was quite tired and a bit fragile (suprise!!!). I thought we found 3 good places. One was a newish (3 years or so) place in Howick, but it was a bit small. The second was right next to a park, where there was cricket being played. (We looked at the garage, and I noticed the windows near the park had been boarded up, and the onces facing away were not. Cricket balls, I figured. Plus I don't like the idea of junior rugby, or cricket waking me up too early). The third I liked a lot. Built in the '50s with an enormous garage (Room for at least 2 cars, or all my stuff), it had a well cover car port outside. (More than enough room for our cars, and a very bag). The Girlie even liked the kitchen and floors. The yard was nice, and managable. But the bathroom was too small (looked alright to me) and the master bedroom door couldn't close with a big bed in the room (screen/sliding doors anyone?) GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After all of this there was a mad rush to get home to get ready in time to go back into town for dinner with friends. We didn't get home 'till nearly midnight. So much for my sleep in. My resilience is not what it was. (I can remember going to work straight from a party more than once in the past...). I was unbale to sleep in on Sunday morning 'cause I had to go out to South Auckland to teach my eskrima class. No sparring that morning, as I was not at my best .

I think my next weekend will involve more house hunting...

Hooray...

Buying houses and dangerous padded sticks

2005-02-01T16:46:00.000+13:00

Last week was a bit (ok a lot) of bother. I was recovering nicely from the Big Day Out, and had a relaxing weekend planned. Until I was dragged out to go looking at houses. I was wondering why I'd never bought one before... >:|

I was looking forward to an interesting training session on Sunday morning, only there were only beginning students there, so basics, basic, basics. I had a hard time getting a couple of the newer students to even face the incoming weapon when doing block+counter drills. It seems kind obvious to me, although I do have a few years on them . Sunday arvo I paid a visit to one of my hacker mates. He's keen to do a bit of eskrima, so I spend a couple of hours hitting his hands with sticks. (only softly, with padded sticks... Honest!)

On the topics of padded sticks, they have been a bane all my FMA career. Some years ago (mid 80's I think) I was first introduced to kali, at an Inosanto seminar. At that seminar we bought some padded sticks. These were (after disecting a broken one) a think fibreglass stick, with foam wrapped around it. Over this foam was a fabric tube, closed at one end (the point) and open at the other (punyo or butt end)the tube was then folded up to where the handle was, which was held in place by a tube of heatshrink. I bought a pair of these things as did the guy I went to the seminar with (my old judo sensei, as it happens). These things were quite good, you could bash away without causing too much damage. That night we were walking through Christchuch (round 11pm) smacking each other around with these things. This attracted the police, but once they saw us going into the martial arts shop, they lost interest. Point is they didn't hurt too much. Although I wasn't trained to deliver the same power I can now.

When I moved to Auckland, and eskrima training became my main focus, I actually wanted to hit folks with sticks without too much trouble. In the beginning we used hockey gloves and helmets and 24 inch padded baseball bats from the warehouse. These things were cheapish, but they had a plastic core that broke too easily with excessive contact. We tried peeling the foam off the broken cores and rolling it over old sticks. These were padded, but HEAVY and hit very hard. Next we tried light sticks with thick foam "noodles" on them. These were a bit better, but ended up being bloody thick, and unwieldy.

So we went to careful sparring with live sticks, helmets and gloves. This was either a bit too tame, or a bit too punishing (depending on how keen we were training). NB at this time we had no easy access to WEKAF style gear... Then I found some padded sticks online at an Oz MA supplies shop (Tans). These were a reasonable length, and fairly padded, but still hurt a lot when they hit your head, erm , "accidentally" that is!. Eventually I got in contact with the NZ Doce Pares rep, who also brings in training gear from the PI. He had some nice padded sticks. These are thin rattan (with the skin removed) in a foam sleeve inside a nylon sleeve that has a drawstring arrangment at the bottom. This means you can replace broken sticks, which is good cause the ones in them aren't strong enough for any kind of grappling or stick on stick locking. You can whack away without too much protection, although powerful head shots are still a bit uncomfortable.

Why the stick tirade? I recently found the MA supply place in Auckland (now the only one in Auckland) has padded sticks. So I bought some. These things are LETHAL. The foam is thinner and less dense than the Tan's ones, and the plastic core is much harder and heavier. Taking a hit to the hand from one of these is nearly as damaging as from a rattan stick. So, Auckland and NZ folks. Beware these things. By all means buy some and try them out, but wear some protection. It is very possible to knock someone out with these things (I know, cause I've done it )

Piece of sh*t car...

2005-01-19T16:21:00.000+13:00

My crappy work vehicle (the mighty escudo) has been causing grief again. This car is a complete pile of sh*t. It's supposed to be an automatic, only it takes driving about 10 km or so for it to work properly (if driven from a cold start). The problem is, I live less than 1 km from the motorway the end result is that pretty much evey morning I have to gun the crap out of the thing to actually merge with the traffic, and still if I'm not quick enough a small queue forms behind me until everything starts working properly. Unfortunately, on occasion, I *have* to be able to move the thing quickly. Something like what happened this morning.

I hop on the motorway, trying desperately to approach the speed limit, car whining in protest. I look in the rear view mirror and see a truck barrelling towards me. I'm pressing my foot hard down to get going fast enough to avoid the thing, but to no avail. Somehow the truck manages to slow down, still scaring the living crap out of me. Meanwhile, all of this hard driving has pushed the temperature *way* up the dial, towards red. Another of the wonderful features of my car is that once it gets hot, you need to be driving more or less at a good clip, in order to force the thing to cool down. Otherwise the gauge just goes up and up, as happens at a drivethough. Or in a crowded motorway.

So, to recap. I drive my car ridiculously hard while still cold, to avod death-by-truck, then I get stuck in a slow-down on the motorway, and the car temp rises too fast. Now I'm not sure what happens when the temp dial goes red on the motorway during rush our, and, just quitely, I pretty much unkeen to find out. So I get off quickly as possible, at the nearest exit in order to let the beast cool down. As I sit there, hot, bothered, and still suffering from the adrenalin dump over the truck business, I realise I'm gonna be late. I have to job at Mt Eden prison at 9, and I ain't going to get there.

The car we have at work was not the one we were supposed to have. My work is owned by two directors ,one a kiwi-born (I think) guy of Dutch decent, and a Fijian Indian guy of Arab decent (no kidding, he really is). I'm not one for racial stereotypes, but the second guy (we'll call him "E" ) is just to much of one. A keen, somewhat dodgy, business guy he always "knows a guy" who can get a deal (and possibly, I'm thinking, give him a backhander). So we have a nice, tidy, roadworthy car organised by the first director (we'll call him "W" ). "W" goes down country to look after some business, when "E" suddenly cancels the deal on the first car, and gets this other. Apparently 'cause he "knows a guy"...

First problem we have is with the steering. I notice it keeps getting looser and looser, forcing my to over-compensate. Apparently, the steering box is shot, so we get a newish ("reconditioned" ) replacement. Next up, after about a year or more of my complaining about the gears not changing in a regular or convenient fashion, someone looks at the transmission. The housing is cracked, and it leaks fluid. Beyond economics repair apparently. We have to wait 'till it actually dies before they decide what to do with it. Then we have the fact that it overheats so much, I have to fill the (possibly leaking) radiator on a weekly basis. Getting replacment tyres is always fun too.

With all of this in mind, and my recent truck experience, I am in a bit of a mood when I get to work. I happen to mention, in a sacastic fashion, that the back door, which should be open, isn't. The only one here is "E". So we start a bit od a slanging match, as a closed door slows me up even further from my job. "E" is pissed at me because the previous night, 20 minutes after my day finishes, I refuse to do some little job before leaving. I'm already late for training at this point. this morning he starts spewing because I'm always late, yet refused this job last night. I have in fact been late twice this year, including this morning. Both times due to his (in my opionion) illegally unsafe company vehicle.

I storm off to my job, as he's calling my everything under the sun, and I'm wondering where to bury the body. When I return from the job, "W" is telling me off for my "attitude". He says if I do martial arts, I should have better self-control. I tell him my self control is the only reason he still has a living, breathing business partner. Matter resolved for the meantime.

I am, however, still very concerned over the state of the vehicle. I believe it is unreasonably unsafe, illegally so, in fact. My girlfriend is fully aware of the problem, and is ready to go to OSH (Occupational Safety and Health) should anything happen. None of which will do me any good if I'm involved. And they recon I have an unjustified attitude... GRRRRR!!!!

Oh well, at least I get to hit folks with sticks tonight!

Back to Balintawak in my crappy car

2005-01-13T16:51:00.000+13:00

Back to normal this week. As normal as stuff gets for me anyway... I was working through the break, so no change to work, but normal training resumed. So I drove off to Kali/JKD practce. Only I didn't make it. My crap car overheated, and by the time things calmed down, it was way too late to get there. I really need to get the car written off, so work will buy me a new one. Unfortunately, the mighty Suzuki will probably only die horribly in a nasty accident, and I might not fare too well either...

I did make it to balintawak on Tuesday. All the syllabus I've spent the last few years learning has changed. Not completely, but enough to make it quite different. The basic angles are delivered slightly differently, more punchy. The basic block-and-counter footwork has changed. We now practice the pre-counter hitting drills without a partner (as well as with), both with control and full power. The advanced counters have changed. There are now only 2 counters for #1 (the old 1st and 3rd counters). Angle #2 only has one counter (the old 1st counter) Angle #4 has changed completely (which is good, 'cos I never really liked the old one). Angle #5 has changed slightly. Angle #11 is different as well. Yikes!

Then we got onto the groups. What used to be group 1 is now a varitation of group 2, as is the old group 2. Group 3 is *actually* the main group 2. Group 1 is completely different. Then there are new groups 3, 4 and 5. Got it? Good ('cos I don't!).

It was hard enough to take in all of this stuff, but I had an extra difficulty. There is one guy at the club who is *really* bad! Really, really bad. And I was training with him. Hooray. He not only has a hard time concentrating (and class is only 1 hour long!) he dosn't listen at all. You can tell him something. You can get him to repeat it. You can show him a technique. You can move him like a puppet to show him the technique with his own self. And then he'll do something completely different! Then ask why the technique does work, and ask "what if this happens...?". Now, I have no problem with people asking questions. It forces me to think about the material, to change my perspective a bit to see the problem from their eyes. I learn more about the technique myself, and often the student has a point. But this guy asks completely irrelavent things, often not grounded in reality. Thank goodness I only have to train with him during the balintawak class. I pity the guys who train with him in the karate class. (Actually, wait a minute, I'm gonna start training in that class too! Uh, oh!)

And the worst thing is I wouldn't be allowed to hit him... Maybe, by accident?

With my car? Hmmmmmm...

Sore bodies, idiot power companies and fearsome cats!

2005-01-04T16:54:00.000+13:00

Yesterday, I resolved to get back into my training after my break. I had been *very* slack. The weight bench and rebounder in the garage (do not want to get wet running on a rainy day) had a fine layer of dust on them. The stationary bike in the lounge had clothes hanging on it to dry. All in all, not much going on.

So I got all inspired, and resolved to get back into it. I have a tyre on a rope in the garage, so I started hitting that (with a stick, that is). Then I remembered reading a post in the FMA forum about solo training, and a few devices. I found an old wooden rail about 3 inches round and about 5 foot tall, and drilled a hole in the end of it. I hung it from the ceiling and started wholloping on it. Unfortunately the bottom end was not secured, so it flew all over the place. A hole in the bottom and a 20kg weight plate sorted it all out. Quite a fun training aid actually, great for single and double stick, even stick and dagger with a bit of lateral thinking. I can even used it for punching (with gloves) and kicking (with care...). After this I did some weights (upper body only), then felt bloody sore. Got a good swat up though. (In fact, when I got back in the house I was order to shower and change before sitting on the new leather couch!)

Later in the day, Kurt, my Balintawak training partner, and I went and caught up with Clint, our instructor in the Arnis style we used to train in. Clint and his partner had been over at the Inosanto seminars in Sydney, so I had caught up a bit there, but it was good to have a wee bash. We went through a fair bit of the Balintawak basics, and some other bits and pieces. It was quite a good exchange. With any luck I should be able to get Clint to do a bit of training with our JKD/Kali group. His style is a bit different, but I think we'd all benifit from it.

Then, this morning, back to reality. Or work. At least the motorways aren't back up to the normal conjestion, but I suspect this will return next week. Actually my first task wasn't work related at all. Our wonderful electricity supplier is a very efficient business, in order to pass off the savings to us consumers. Or so they would have us believe. In practice this is crap. They contract out the meter readings, and only read them every other month. Or at least they would if they could find our meter. I guess they changed meter reading contractors about 10 months or so ago, cause they can't find the meter now. The power meter is very cleverly hidden. In a big power meter box, along with the other flats in our block (who's suppliers can easily find the meters apparently). You can see the damn thing from the road!!!!. After giving them directions a half dozen or so times, I got so pissed off with them I stepped the meter reader through diection on the fone. After this it would appear the estimates they were making were wrong. As a result we have a $500+ power bill. For two people, in the middle of summer (ok, summer is a bit crappy this year, but still...).

Perhaps the meter reader was scared of our vicious pet ... cat. Basil the cat is a bit of a terror. He playfully jumps out of bushes to ambush me going from the garage to the house. Apparently he beat up a corgi a couple of weeks ago. My neighbour said a lady was walking her corgi past the house, when Basil leapt on it and started giving it the bash. My neigbour told him off, so he jumped off the poor dog. For about six paces when he started up again. Eventually he got sick of it, and the poor woman ran off with her dog. My neighbour wasn't much help as she was laffing her ass off! Apparently the dog refuses to go past the house now, and his owner has to cross the road when walking the poor mutt. So maybe he is a big scary beast, after all the Russian lady who delivered us pizza a few weeks ago was scared to get out of her car, 'cause Basil came up to say "hi". But I doubt it. I found the meter box very easily, which is just as good because two nights ago the next-door neighbour were out, and their kids were playing the stereo at full volume, at 1 in the morning. So, after banging on the door, and shouting in the window, but to no avail, I went down to the meter box. I wondered if it was possible to turn off their flats power. But, alas, the only switch was for the *whole* block. If it happens again, I'll have to weigh up cold beverages, or quiet nights...

Christmas tornados and brawling Santas

2004-12-22T17:03:00.000+13:00

If you were to visit Auckland form overseas right now, you might think you'd landed in the wrong city...

The weather has gone completely to hell! Yesterday there was a *tornado* in town! I've never heard anything like it. The weather *should* be hot, and dry, the humidity should come in January. Instead it is absolutely crap. It's rained every day (on-and-off) for a week. There is some light at the end of the tunnel though. I have a job up in the Waitakere hills to do. A Civil Defence radio installation is in need of repar. Half a dozen antennas and cables have to be replaced. And we have to remove a mast, which is rotten through and threatening to fall on and crush the radio hut. It's gonna be a pig of a job, and I'm not looking forward to it. But at least we can't do it right now...

My chest infection is beginning to clear up, just in time for no training. All the places I train are closing down for the year, and training partners have gone on holiday. I guess I'm gonna have to beat up some tires and bags instead

I haven't really gotten too much of the Christmas spirit right now. Aside from having the 'flu, and a buttload of work to do, one of the guys I work with's wife is dying. She had back problems for some time, and by the time she got it looked at, they discovered she had a huge tumor pressing on her spine. It was too far gone to be operable, so basically they've been giving her pain relief and keeping her in hospital. Apparently she's slipped into a coma, and the only thing keeping her alive is life support. Which means some point in the next few days her family have a nasty decision to make...

There was one bit of telly I liked last night though. It was called "Santarchy". Santarchy is, apparently, a world-wide protest against the commericialisation of Christmas. Folks dress up as Santa and do mild acts of protest. Well that's how it works overseas. In New Zealand, people get dressed up as Santa, get horribly pissed, and cause all manner of stife in town. Basically a film crew followed these guys around all day. From a beer and bar-b-que breakfast through to a drunken santa slug-fest in the city. They even had the evenining news item details the arrest of the fighting santas. (The news presenter advised parents to get kids out of the room before the next item). There was one scene where one of the ring-leaders ran away from the cops and quickly got out of his santa suit, stuffing it under his shirt and hiding out at the university. Kind of infantile, but I liked it...

I got all of my shopping done last night in one huge, caffine-driven session. The local mall is open till midnight all week, and the staff seem none to happy about it. At least there wasn't too much of a crowd.

Sick of the 'flu

2004-12-20T17:06:00.000+13:00

Not really, I just hate being sick! Normally I get over illness and injury pretty quickly, but any chesty/coughing stuff screws me up, because I'm allergic to pretty much whatever they can give me for it. End result is, I have to tuff it out. Normally I'll just go to work regardless, but I've been up all nite coughing up nasty stuff for the better part of a week, so I'm kinda tired. So I went to the doctors yesterday. Apparently, now it's turned into an infection, they can give me some anitbiotics. These look like something you give a horse, but they seem to be doing some good. The downside is that I can't indulge in a tipple while I'm on them, and they don't finish 'till Boxing day. So I guess I'm the designated driver on Christmas day!

As it happens, I did get a little bit of training in on the weekend. I went along to teach my last eskrima class for the year. One person turned up! I guess it's probably good that folks don't come if they over-indulged on Saturday nite, as I'm unkeen on the injuries that may occur from dodgy control... As there was only one guy, I couldn't go over any new syllabus material. So we just went over some of the Inosanto Kali knife stuff, mainly basic cuts/thrusts and part of the palisut drills. He picked it up pretty well actually. It took me ages to get it!

After class I went over to my nephew's birthday party. It had been in full swing for a couple of hours. The kids were full of sugar and running all over. My Girlfiend's Sister's cat had left home for the day as a result. I had a play with them, but as I was low on blood sugar (at least way lower than them!) and a bit tired, I had to retire to the couch. This was no refuge at all as "play basketball Mike!" was hollered at me. (not only by the short people, The Girlie, her Sister, Brother in law, and Mum got into the act! GRRRRR!) Apparently they were out to kill me! This is why being an uncle is preferable to being a parent...

I watched a couple of DVDs the other day, Hellboy and the Bourne Supremacy. They weren't too bad. I especially liked the bit on the Bourne disc when they showed the behind-the-scenes of the fight scene. It was interesting to see Jeff Imada doing the fight co-ordination. I think he was Dan Inosanto's demo partner during some of the 80's, and I think he still teaches at the academy. Seems there was a bit of a Kali thing going on, as "the hunted" was on last nite, with all the Sayoc kali stuff in it.

Basil, my cat, is being a monster this morning. Normally if I'm sick, he's all sypathetic, and just hangs out on the bed. But this morning, he's in beast mode. Apparently, it's good to sneak up and bite me when I'm sick. I had bought a little remote control car to pester him with, but he's gotten used to it. So, I've been thinking about getting a robo-sapien. This thing is a little robot, about 30cm tall. It has all kinds of behaviours programmed into it, and has a couple of different manipulators on it's arms. All kinds of folks have messed with these things already, so hacking one might be a fun project. Having seen one working, I'm not too sure if it has the footspeed to chase the cat, but I'm sure much fun can be had...

Oh well, back to sleep, and back to work tomorrow...

Eskrima, and old computers

2004-12-17T17:09:00.000+13:00

Still got the 'flu, and liking it not...

Had to cancel dinner with friends tonite, I was kinda looking forward to trying a Vietnamese resturant, or was it Kampuchian? My Girlfriend said something about spicy squid...

The worst part of being ill is that I haven't had a chance to go over the stuff we learned in Oz. I was hoping one of the other guys (let's be honest, Jarrod, our instructor) had managed to take in enough of the silat stuff. I was not having the best time, as the flu was setting in, and it was very hard to concentrate. I've been a bit intrigued by silat for a while now, as it seems at once very precise, and nicely vague. I like that. A lot of what I've seen reminds me of aikido, albeit a bit less circular. Lots of clever physics.

I had the chance to watch a DVD of GM Bobby Taboada's recent visit (cheers Edmond! I owe you a blank disc!). I wasn't able to attend as I had family stuff overseas (my Dad's 60th actually). He covered a lot of stuff, but mostly details, rather than things I hadn't really seen. Litle wrenches, subtle hits. And, of course, a completely new way we have to practice basics. (And I was only just getting used to the new footwork changes!!!!) One thing about Balintawak Eskrima is is is *very* fast. It kind of reminds me of a wing chun approach to eskrima, very precise and controlled. I have found in the couple of years I've been training that my reaction time has increased dramatically. I was talking to Gordon Carnie (the NZ WEKAF rep, and a guy I'm trying to learn Doce Pares from) about Balintawak. The group I train with definitely don't do tournament, and he thought it was odd, as he had fought Balintawak players in the Phillipines (under WEKAF conditions, I think). I don't know how well the style, as I've been taught, would adapt to that type of play.

That whole different styles thing is causing me a few problems actually. A while ago, some friends of mine who run a mainly Japanese-based school asked me to teach an eskrima class, and devise a syllabus for them. I'm not authorised to teach any of the FMA I study, and wouldn't want to represent myself as such, but I have a solid grasp of them. At least enough to teach some basic principles. So I put together syllabus, not based on ascending skill levels, but rather modules of different aspects. For example, one module on medio range stick, one on corto stick (mainly Balintawak), another on olisi-baraw (after all it is *stick* and knife, not *sword*) and so on. So I'm basically presenting my understanding of the stuff. And as I have a strong base in the bread-and-butter styles they teach at their school, I can make it fit a bit more with their stuff.

The problem is that teaching people makes you learn a lot yourself. You decide what is appropriate for beginners to learn, and proceed to teach it. Then you spot stuff you missed, or have re-evaluated due to your own training. I have a *very* low boredom threshold, I'm basically a neophile. So new stuff is far more interesting than old stuff. Fortunately it's my nature to want to know how stuff works, rather than learn new stuff for the hell of it. In fact it *really* pisses me off not to understand how stuff works (which makes me a really crap audience member for a magic show!). As a result, my classes are somewhat, erm, non-linear. Luckily the material is interesting so I have the class's attention, for the mean-time, at least.

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On a completely non-MA topic, I've been fiddling with some very old computers of late. Way back in the 80's there was no such thing as a "standard" computer. Every manufacturer made their own machines, which only ran their software, and only used their peripherals. There was none of this copying a floppy at work and using the data at home, because the machines were probably different. In fact the discs were different as well. Oh, they looked the same, all right. But you couldn't read Atari discs on the Apple at school. (also they 5.25 inch disks!).

All of this self indulgence is because I fired up my old Atari 800xl the other day. It still works!! And it was built in 1981!!! This impressive beast has 64K of memory (that's "K" not "M"!) and the orginal floppy drive formatted discs for 180K. Naturally, 5.25 inch discs are a bit hard to come by these days, and so I built an interface to connect the machine to an old '486 I had lying around. I built another interface to connect the old drive, and transferred my old files onto the PC. I looked around the net and found a bunch of old software, which I also save to the PC drive. The PC pretends to be up to 8 floppy drives attatched to the atari, and I can play all the old games.

And why the hell would I want to do this? Because I can! And also because I happen to like the old games. One of the games I like the most was written in 1979. It's called "Star Raiders" and is 8K long. Thats smaller than the smallest MS Word document you can possibly make! Basically you fly around the galaxy blasting alien ships while protecting your starbases. It's done from an "in the cockpit" perspective, and is fairly engrossing, without taking a month of you life to finish.

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I've got a joke to finish with...

A pirate walks into a bar, with a steering wheel hanging out the front of his pants. The barman asks what it's for, and the pirate replys... "Arrrrr, it drives me nuts!!"

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I never said it was a good joke!