Posts by daleaway
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No Tim, not aimed at you at all. I spoke of a couple who kept two cars to drive to their place of employment which was in the same street that they lived in. In Seatoun. It was walkable in six minutes. They were just selfish lazy sods with an undue sense of their own importance.
But while we're on the subject of you, you say you choose to work in the Hutt - but from your description it sounds more as though you had the Hutt workplace wished upon you, and you choose to live in Miramar. To quote Spike Milligan: "South America? That's abroad, isn't it?" "That depends on where you are standing."
Who else enjoyed the infinite jest of Ben accusing others of being mean spirited?
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The two teachers - a young married couple - who rented a flat off me in Wellington, drove to the school each day. Four flat suburban blocks away. Four good legs between them. Neither was willing to give up their car, so they kept two cars for the purpose.
I predicted a short marriage for those who are unwilling to share or compromise. I predict a short-lived planet for their tribe. Unfortunately, it's my planet too and we don't have a Plan(et) B.
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Being sexist and ageist is not cutey-cutey.
Having more older people on telly is a superb idea... it would spare us a lot of egg-sucking advice from early school leavers who came down in the last shower.
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While we're all getting pendantic about TV presenters' pronunciation, how about teaching some of the presenters to pronounciate their final Ws properly?
Mark Sainsbury, for example, can't say "how about". It comes out How Rabout. Mike McRoberts on TV3 does the same. I haven't been keeping a list, but you'll find several blokes on TV1 and TV3 saying Now Ravailable, etc any time a final W is followed by a vowel sound starting the next word. The only woman I can think of that does it is the one asking us to donate money to build a well and a school in Africa.
They must be sloppy kissers.
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Eye candy shagging!
Lord love ya, Craig, you've just defined programme standards and content for a whole new generation of TVNZ administrators.
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"I'm just going over to brother Jack's to get my car back. He borrowed it a week ago. The little devil is hanging onto it."
It's 2005. Brother Jack died, an old man, in 1989. Dad's car was sold just before his own 90th birthday.
"Dad sit down and read this. It's a letter from your doctor saying you are not allowed to drive. We sold the car, don't you remember?"
Long silence. He watches Robert Carlyle on television playing Hitler, comments sharply that the actor looks nothing like the man. We talk of the War, and of the Spectre of the Brocken he once saw on a training flight. He perfectly remembers the physics of that light phenomenon. Then:
"I'm just going over to brother Jim's. He borrowed my car over a month ago and hasn't given it back. I'm going over to see what the matter is."
"Dad, read that letter in your hand. You've got a heart condition and you're not allowed to drive. We don't have a car."
Brother Jim died in 1971.
Long silence. On the television, a comedian is finding himself very funny.
"I'll just pop out and see if my car is all right."
He walks down the pavement trying some suitcase keys in the driver's doors of strangers' cars. The neighbours have known him for years. They don't worry about him.
We look on, watchfully, from the gate, in case he loses his way.
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Certainly all the prostitutes one sees quoted about who their clients are claim they are "y'know, judges, lawyers, MPs.." Because that is who they said they were. Wouldn't you, in their position, rather than tell her you're a panelbeater or a beneficiary?
I can't speak with first hand experience of the sex industry, but I can partly contribute to Emma's question about why someone with a degree would work in the flesh trade. A former colleague of mine, with a degree and a good future, abandoned a well-paid public service position to run a sex toys business. We had long talks about what led to this decision. She had been abused as a child, loathed men, become a lesbian, and was so frightened of rape that she would never wear a skirt. Her lesbian friends worked in massage parlours. The sex trade drew her to it like a magnet. Her estimate of her self-worth wouldn't let her mix with "normal" people.
I have no idea how typical this was, but it is someone I knew well and can vouch for its accuracy.
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Onya, Deborah. I have found a chalk and a black felt pen vital handbag accessories to help the needy.
Co-pendants unite!
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I'd just like it to be normal to see older women in TV presenter and newsreader roles ... women with the mature appearance of eg Mark Sainsbury, Kevin Milne, Paul Holmes and their ilk. Matinee idols they ain't, but those blokes still have their jobs despite the vanishing shag factor.
To pick up on the Georgina Beyer question, are we all playing let's pretend? Does anyone think female-to-male transexuals are really men? Or are they surgically altered females with bodies full of chemicals? Which is not to say, of course, that they are not damned fine individuals deserving of love and respect, but biologically....
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Che, it could be gone by lunchtime....