Her hands were beautiful but she never would have believed that.
They were all soft lines and gentle contours
Her thumbs stood independent but closely linked to their cousin-fingers.
Each finger had its own sturdy nail, its own shape but not its own space.
A delicate web of flesh bound each finger to the next, blurring the borders and barely allowing fingertips.
Her flesh was smooth, it had none of the usual callouses, holding its own conventions.
Knuckles and bones moved and presented through the sleek skin as she gently grasped a cup between her palms and lifted it to her mouth.
Her hands were alien.
Alien and beautiful, but she never would have believed it.
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Saturday, 28 April 2007
Don't Interrupt Me! I'm Readin' Mah Stories!
My offering to Chris Sims' spider-meme challenge and homage to the crazy soapie story lines that make comics so sinfully enjoyable.
Marvel - bringing people back to life and ruining marriages from other dimensions since time immemorial!
Marvel - bringing people back to life and ruining marriages from other dimensions since time immemorial!
Thursday, 12 April 2007
When You Least Expect It, From Out Of The Shadows - Muffin Squad!
There used to be this old 'Weight Watchers' ad, back in the mid-eighties, that really caught my attention. The jingle went
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeight Watchers! For people who care for their weight!
Because people who care for their weight are gonna get... watched!"
And there was an energetic set of people speed-walking in parks and playing sport and eating ricotta cheese in celery sticks and other people were watching them and marvelling at their happy smiles. And popping out from behind buildings and bushes and staring at them...
I would have been about five years old and I got entirely the wrong idea. I thought that you signed up for 'Weight Watchers' and then a secret society of people followed you around, tracking your movements and critiquing your eating habits like the FBI of pastries.
I kind of like that idea.
Apart from the fact that people will pay for anything these days - pet therapy, customised daily star signs, Justin Timberlake CDs - I would relish the opportunity to be part of a crack squad of hard-asses that leaps out and bitch slaps people for buying bear claws.
People paying me to smack them goes nicely with my spanking fetish and also would allow me to pretend I was a gritty film noir detective whose significant other has done them wrong. My beloved would have betrayed me with with a custard tart and I would have to exercise my demons - or feed my obsession - by following people and taking pictures of them getting nasty with their illicit lamingtons and cream buns, shining bright lights in their faces and demanding to know where they were on the 13th of the month and how they want to explain the powdered sugar on their sleeve...
Have I thought about this too much?
Maybe.
But it doesn't make me wrong...
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeight Watchers! For people who care for their weight!
Because people who care for their weight are gonna get... watched!"
And there was an energetic set of people speed-walking in parks and playing sport and eating ricotta cheese in celery sticks and other people were watching them and marvelling at their happy smiles. And popping out from behind buildings and bushes and staring at them...
I would have been about five years old and I got entirely the wrong idea. I thought that you signed up for 'Weight Watchers' and then a secret society of people followed you around, tracking your movements and critiquing your eating habits like the FBI of pastries.
I kind of like that idea.
Apart from the fact that people will pay for anything these days - pet therapy, customised daily star signs, Justin Timberlake CDs - I would relish the opportunity to be part of a crack squad of hard-asses that leaps out and bitch slaps people for buying bear claws.
People paying me to smack them goes nicely with my spanking fetish and also would allow me to pretend I was a gritty film noir detective whose significant other has done them wrong. My beloved would have betrayed me with with a custard tart and I would have to exercise my demons - or feed my obsession - by following people and taking pictures of them getting nasty with their illicit lamingtons and cream buns, shining bright lights in their faces and demanding to know where they were on the 13th of the month and how they want to explain the powdered sugar on their sleeve...
Have I thought about this too much?
Maybe.
But it doesn't make me wrong...
Tuesday, 10 April 2007
Togas - The Garb Of Champions
"Oh Lady Justice, I come to you to plead my case..."
The great lady starts as the voice breaks her chain of thought and she tries to peek under her blindfold. "Who said that?
"I am but a humble petitioner, my lady..."
How embarrassing, her gown has slipped from one shoulder and her breast is exposed. There's no way she can expect any respect from this man if she's standing there with her dumpling on display. She can't put down the sword and the scales, what with this damn blindfold she'd never find the things again. "Do tell,"
"Lady Justice, I have been greatly wronged and do beg your impartial judgement on my behalf,"
"Yes, yes. Go on," Maybe if she shrugged like this and swung her arm like this she could get the sleeve back onto her shoulder. It's all a matter of balance after all, as long as she doesn't tip the scales it should work.
There is a resonant Donnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng! and then a thump in the darkness in front of her. The lady, resettling her dress without the aid of her hands doesn't notice the silence for a moment.
"Yes? You were going to tell me a story? Hello?"
She hears a groan, a sort of scrambling sound and the man speaks again. "Ah, yes, gentle lady. I come to beg your protection and aid, as I have been wronged and those who have wronged me must know your wrath..."
Crap, now the other side of the dress has gone. Why on earth did she choose such a bloody flimsy garment anyway? It's not as if it makes her look good and the slightest little breeze and out pops a boob. Ok, she did it with the other sleeve she can do it with this one. Just shrug a little, swing the arm forward at shoulder height like this...
There is a soggy sound as something bounces away down the stairs that leads to her dais, followed by the sound of something larger tumbling down after it.
Now that her dress is on properly she can finally concentrate.
"OK, sorry about that but I'm all good now. You were saying? Hello? Hello?"
No-one answers. Oh well, he seems to be gone. Whatever.
The great lady starts as the voice breaks her chain of thought and she tries to peek under her blindfold. "Who said that?
"I am but a humble petitioner, my lady..."
How embarrassing, her gown has slipped from one shoulder and her breast is exposed. There's no way she can expect any respect from this man if she's standing there with her dumpling on display. She can't put down the sword and the scales, what with this damn blindfold she'd never find the things again. "Do tell,"
"Lady Justice, I have been greatly wronged and do beg your impartial judgement on my behalf,"
"Yes, yes. Go on," Maybe if she shrugged like this and swung her arm like this she could get the sleeve back onto her shoulder. It's all a matter of balance after all, as long as she doesn't tip the scales it should work.
There is a resonant Donnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng! and then a thump in the darkness in front of her. The lady, resettling her dress without the aid of her hands doesn't notice the silence for a moment.
"Yes? You were going to tell me a story? Hello?"
She hears a groan, a sort of scrambling sound and the man speaks again. "Ah, yes, gentle lady. I come to beg your protection and aid, as I have been wronged and those who have wronged me must know your wrath..."
Crap, now the other side of the dress has gone. Why on earth did she choose such a bloody flimsy garment anyway? It's not as if it makes her look good and the slightest little breeze and out pops a boob. Ok, she did it with the other sleeve she can do it with this one. Just shrug a little, swing the arm forward at shoulder height like this...
There is a soggy sound as something bounces away down the stairs that leads to her dais, followed by the sound of something larger tumbling down after it.
Now that her dress is on properly she can finally concentrate.
"OK, sorry about that but I'm all good now. You were saying? Hello? Hello?"
No-one answers. Oh well, he seems to be gone. Whatever.
Saturday, 7 April 2007
Condiment Withdrawl
I think they're putting drugs in the tomato sauce.
Seriously.
Think about it.
When was the last time you had a sausage roll or a pie without sauce?
Just to experience the delicate and complex interplay of flavours...
You can't remember can you?
It all starts out innocently enough. Everyone else seems to be doing it. So you have your first taste of the red devil. But everyone knows that once you're on the sauce it's awfully hard to get off it. And pretty soon one sachet per pie is not enough. You have to have another. And another.
Saying you eat meat pies because you like beef would be like saying you eat McDonalds hotcakes because you like pancakes.
Have you ever tried a McDs hotcake without syrup incidentally?
The one occasion I undertook this gastronomic challenge I was halfway through the polystyrene container before I realised that I had in fact finished the hotcakes. And it wasn't the change in taste which alerted me.
It's time we admit that all the pies, pasties, sausage rolls and buckets of chips that we soldier our way through every year are merely a front, a pretext, a screen to draw attention away from our tomato sauce addiction.
Australia needs to take a deep breath, step up to the mirror, look itself squarely in the eye and say in a firm voice 'We have a tomato sauce problem.'
Seriously.
Think about it.
When was the last time you had a sausage roll or a pie without sauce?
Just to experience the delicate and complex interplay of flavours...
You can't remember can you?
It all starts out innocently enough. Everyone else seems to be doing it. So you have your first taste of the red devil. But everyone knows that once you're on the sauce it's awfully hard to get off it. And pretty soon one sachet per pie is not enough. You have to have another. And another.
Saying you eat meat pies because you like beef would be like saying you eat McDonalds hotcakes because you like pancakes.
Have you ever tried a McDs hotcake without syrup incidentally?
The one occasion I undertook this gastronomic challenge I was halfway through the polystyrene container before I realised that I had in fact finished the hotcakes. And it wasn't the change in taste which alerted me.
It's time we admit that all the pies, pasties, sausage rolls and buckets of chips that we soldier our way through every year are merely a front, a pretext, a screen to draw attention away from our tomato sauce addiction.
Australia needs to take a deep breath, step up to the mirror, look itself squarely in the eye and say in a firm voice 'We have a tomato sauce problem.'
Thursday, 5 April 2007
Bat Angst!
Couldn't stay away from this one...
Secret Bat Phobias Rear Their Ugly Heads or...
Batman Shows His Emo Side?
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