As the holidays approach, the giant Asian factories are kicking into high gear to provide Australians with monstrous piles of cheaply produced goods — merchandise that has been produced at the expense of Australian labor.

This year will be different. This year Australians will give the gift of genuine concern for other Australians. There is no longer an excuse that, at gift giving time, nothing can be found that is produced by Australian hands. Yes there is!

It’s time to think outside the box, people. Who says a gift needs to fit in a shirt box, wrapped in OS produced wrapping paper?

Everyone — yes EVERYONE gets their hair cut. How about gift certificates from your local Australian hair salon or barber?

Gym membership? It’s appropriate for all ages who are thinking about some health improvement.

Who wouldn’t appreciate getting their car detailed? Small, Australian-owned detail shops and car washes would love to sell you a gift certificate or a book of gift certificates.

Are you one of those extravagant givers who think nothing of plunking down many dollars on a Chinese made flat-screen?
Perhaps that grateful gift receiver would like his driveway sealed, or lawn mowed for the summer, or games at the local golf course.

There are a bazillion owner-run restaurants — all offering gift certificates. And, if your intended isn’t the fancy eatery sort, what about a half dozen breakfasts at the local breakfast joint. Remember, folks this isn’t about big National chains — this is about supporting your home town Australians with their financial lives on the line to keep their doors open.

How many people couldn’t use an oil change for their car, truck or motorcycle, done at a shop run by the Australian working guy?

Thinking about a heartfelt gift for mum? Mum would LOVE the services of a local cleaning lady for a day.

The computer could use a tune-up, by a local repair business.

OK, you were looking for something more personal. Local crafts people spin their own wool and knit them into scarves. They make jewelry, and pottery and beautiful wooden boxes.

Plan your holiday outings at local, owner operated restaurants and leave your server a nice tip. And, how about going out to see a play or ballet at your hometown theatre.

Musicians need love too, so find a venue showcasing local bands.

Christmas is no longer about draining Australians pockets so that China can build another glittering city. Christmas is now about caring about our country, encouraging Australian businesses to keep plugging away to follow their dreams. And, when we care about other Australians, we care about our communities,
and the benefits come back to us in ways we couldn’t imagine.

Start an Australian Christmas tradition.

Forward this to everyone on your mailing list — post it to discussion groups — send it to the editor of your local paper and radio stations, and TV news departments. This is a revolution of caring about each other, and isn’t that what Christmas is about?

MERRY CHRISTMAS

And from all of these I can’t quite decide what is worst. Is it the fact that the kids all look so damn proud of themselves, the fact that the teachers seem not to have noticed what the projects were about to allow them to display them in the first place, the fact that the first one appears to be displayed in a shopping centre, or that the last girl seems to have won some sort of award for her work on “Aids! The Gay Plague!”

WTF??????

New Direction for any war: Send Service Vets over 60!

Whilst there are times I rue living in this century, as I love fashion from the 1920’s to 1960’s, the following proves that I just wasn’t cut out for that era.  If it’s not offensive enough that there was actually a magazine called “Housekeeping Monthly”, just take a look at this article that was published in 1955:

And remember, a good wife always knows her place!!!!  HA!

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.

You get in to find the door won’t latch. It doesn’t matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern ’seat covers’ (invented by someone’s Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn’t – so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR! ), yank down your pants, and assume ‘ The Stance.’

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You’d love to sit down, but you certainly hadn’t taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold ‘The Stance.’

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser . In your mind, you can hear your mother’s voice saying, ‘Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!’ Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday – the one that’s still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It’s still smaller than your thumbnail .

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn’t work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. ‘Occupied!’ you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT . It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it’s too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every ima ginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper – not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you’re certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, ‘You just don’t KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.’

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire h ose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes.. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You’re soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat . You’re exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can’t figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman’s hand and tell her warmly, ‘Here, you just might need this.’

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men’s restroom. Annoyed, he asks, ‘What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?’

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you’ve GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It’s so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

I’m not sure who’s the original author of this piece, but I really have to give them credit for a spectacularly hilarious rant, which all rings “oh so familiar” …oh yeah that’s right, this year I turn 30…OMG!!!!!

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When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were. When they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning…Uphill…barefoot…BOTH ways!!!

Yadda, yadda, yadda

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they’ve got it!

But now that… I’m over the ripe old age of thirty, I can’t help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You’ve got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia!

And I hate to say it but you kids today you don’t know how good you’ve got it!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn’t have The Internet. If we wanted to know something, We had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalogue!!

There was no email!! We had to actually write somebody a letter, with a pen!
…Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!

There were no MP3’s or Napsters! You wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself!

Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ’d usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!

We didn’t have fancy crap like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that’s it!

And we didn’t have fancy Caller ID either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mom, your boss, your Bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, you just didn’t know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!

We didn’t have any fancy Sony Playstation video Games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games like ‘Space Invaders’ and ‘asteroids’. Your guy was a little square! You actually had to use your imagination!! And there were no multiple levels or Screens, it was just one screen. Forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!

You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! You were screwed when it Came to channel surfing! You had to get off your arse and walk over to the TV to change the Channel and there was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. Do you Hear what I’m saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little rat-bastards!

And we didn’t have microwaves, if we wanted to heat something up we had to use the stove …. Imagine that!

That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You kids today have got it too easy. You’re spoiled. You guys wouldn’t have lasted
five minutes back in 1980!

Regards,
The over 30 Crowd

Supermarkets and green grocers advertise “Fresh Produce”….I’m sorry but it’s been many years since I’ve seen “fresh produce” in our local stores…..I remember when I was a wee tacker and I used to go grocery shopping with Mum, the fruit and vegies we’d buy would last in the fridge for anywhere from 2 – 6 weeks.  The only thing I can buy that would last that long now is onions.  Everything else I buy, I’m lucky if it keeps for 1-2 weeks.  It’s been a thorn in my side for years, but what can I do about it?  I’ve tried boycotting certain stores that refuse to sell fresh foods, but that doesn’t work, because we need a great volume of people in the community to do the same to make any sort of difference.

I think I’m going to have to drag my butt out of bed early on Saturday mornings and try out the Saturday Fresh Market at Brisbane Marketplace….hopefully the produce will be fresher, cheaper and more of the profits will go directly to the farmers….

Click here for map

I go to McDonald’s, Hungry Jack’s, KFC or any other fast food outlet, and I’m being particularly lazy and go drive-thru.� The line is really long so I sit there for 5-10 min while all the cars go through before me….then I finally get to the window or speaker box and the drive-thru kid says “Welcome to xxx, please place your order”….I’d love to place my order, but I don’t know what I want�yet because the menu is�RIGHT AT THE SPEAKER BOX.�This means that the last 5-10 min of waiting in the line has been wasted, flicking through shitty radio stations looking for a half decent song,�or sussing out the people that are eating in, whom I can see right through the restaurant window (on that note, why do they call them restaurants – they’re far from what I would consider a restaurant to be – note to self, look up criteria for restaurant).� Anyway, back on topic, that time waiting in the line could have been used more efficiently, looking at the menu and deciding what I wanted BEFORE I got to the speaker box.� Now I just sit there and go “ummm, I’m just looking at the menu at the moment” and hold up everyone else in the line behind me, who in turn will wait their 5-10 min and then do the same thing when they get to the speaker box.�

AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!

And just to add insult to injury, most of the menus don’t list everything they sell and the corresponding prices.� Go to Maccas, for example, walk inside and have a look at their menu boards….you know how they’re all segmented? – usually about 5-8 sections depending on the size of the store.� I can guarantee that there will be only 1-2 segments with small print, listing their menu items….now I have good eyesight, don’t wear glasses or contacts, and don’t usually have trouble reading signs (near or far), but I truly struggle to read their menu.� All the other segments are filled with large pictures of selected menu items, which is all good and well if I want one of those few selected items, I can clearly see what it is, how much it is and what it has on it, but as for anything else, it’s left up to your best guess….you might as well walk up to the counter, wait for the pimply kid to ask you what you would like and say “How about you just surprise me!”

The constant slagging match between the parties drives me nuts.  There has to be a better way to get your message across rather than Labor saying “the LibNats suck”, and the LibNats saying “Labor sucks”….obviously I’ve paraphrased here, but essentially that’s how the whole campaign goes…..surely you could be more mature and focus on the positive side of your own party’s offerings rather than the negative side of your opposition.

Another element of elections that gets my goat is all the wasted paper at the polling booths.  I’m sorry but if you haven’t made up your mind as to who will get your vote prior to arriving at the polling booth, then I don’t think a pamphlet with the candidate’s face on it is going to make that decision for you.  And if you’re like me, you stride ahead, head down and say boldy “no thanks” when they try to hand you the paper….I’m only going to throw it in the bin as soon as I walk inside anyway, so I’m saving myself a couple of seconds by not having to dispose of the rubbish myself.  What I’d really be interested in finding out, is how many trees are lopped to produce election pamphlets alone, and how much money is spent on campaigning….I don’t expect it would be a small sum, and I’m pretty sure the money could be better spent.

Anyway, I see positive and negative sides to both major candidates so it’s almost a “catch 22″, but that being said, congratulations to Anna Bligh and the ALP.

1.  ABC advertising on channel 10…

2.  …in PRIME TIME

3.  and the songs on the album are almost all commcercial

Whatever happened to Triple J being the alternative / indie option for music????!!!!   If I want to listen to any of that music you’re flogging off on your CD, I can flick over to Nova, B105, River……or countless other stations.  SORRY TRIPLE J, BUT YOU’VE SOLD OUT!!!!!!!!