Coffee's hot. Coffee's black. And sometimes, she's as sweet as sugar.

Chooks have a very limited range of facial expressions, compared to say, a dog, or Jim bloody Carrey. This chook is particularly friendly though, and moves quick if there is an off chance of getting some scraps. On the topic, the Sulphur-crested Cockatoos have worked out how to use the chook's grain hopper thingo, which is pretty clever of them. They have to continuously stand on a lever to open a shutter to get at the grain. I can see them raiding it out of my window at the hull of the starship fucking enterprise, and occaisonally raise the window to yell non-specific threats at the Cockys in an impotent rage.

Dad went to the Sheepvention on Monday, an illustrious event that I'd all but forgotten about. Getting to go to the sheepvention when I was a kid was fucking ace. They have dog trials, lots of big shiny machinery, and all these new gadgets for the modern farmer. I remember distinctly spending ages waiting with Dad one year as he assessed the merits of a rotating lamb-marking cradle, where you lay the lambs in on their back at an angle, and pushed the feet into these spring-locked catches. The lamb was conveniently restrained so as you had a clear shot at all the bits that had to be modified, i.e., balls and tails. Dad bought back a few new gadgets this year, including a fencing tool that looks like it was manufactured in zero-gravity by alien skateboarders.

I've booked my flights to Sydney/Melb/Adelaide/Brisbane now. This is stressful, but manageable. The last two days I got the paper that Chapter 4 is based on, and gave it a much needed injection of accuracy. I'm glad it hasn't been published yet, there were many cringe-worthy things in it. I seemed to be quite happy to assume throughout the entire paper that as a finite difference of random quantities converged, it implied that the random quantities themselves converged. It was true, but required quite a bit more work to show it. Not only that, but I had proved something by essentially assuming that it was true. A neat trick if you can get away with it, and after two rounds of reviews it seemed I had. I don't blame the reviewers for not reading it all that closely though, it could induce narcolepsy at 40 paces. As does this paragraph!

Unfortunately, my goal to become 'the sole human not in a coma to have never read The Da Vinci Code' has been foiled by my conniving brother. He's heard me bang on about never wanting to read it, but knows that I will read literally anything. Also, this house is starved of books of any variety except the crazy, Jesus doorknocking picnic religious cult variety. Before he left for New Zealand, he draped the offending novel across my bedside table at a disarming jaunty angle. I was strong for weeks, and content myself with reading my Quantum info theory book before bed, declaring that it should be removed and dusted for fingerprints in order that my claim would not be invalidated. But cruel fate intervened, and the quantum book was recalled by the library, realizing my worst fears. I swear in the name of sweet, sweet intercourse I tried to resist.

After last night, it seems I may actually be in the running for the category of 'the sole human not in a coma who has read almost the whole thing in a single sitting and who went to sleep terribly terribly early in the morning doing so and felt awfully tired all the next day'. I can see what all the fuss is about, it's got it all. The chapters are short, and the end of each of them are compelling cliffhangers. Cliched to all hell, but no less compelling. It has a chubby inducing love interest between an academic and a cryptography hottie. Add to that a crazy albino, the holy grail, pagan rooting rituals, plus Da Vinci and everyone else being oh-so-clever, a constant sense of urgency and danger... bam! any wonder you're hard pressed finding a non-comatose yak herder who hasn't read it.

The new pop77 mix is grouse, mostly because the first song keeps going on about a guy called Nigel.

In conclusion, Missy Elliot has something to say.


You don't wanna speak my name
Mess around get that ass blown away
Blaaah!
Fool gone away
I didn't even like your tail anyway
Missy got somethin' to say
I ride down the block in an escalade
Bling bling all in your face
I think you might need to put on your shades
Blaaah!
I know you feel me tho
You hatin' on me, but you hear me tho
Twenty inch rims sittin' crazy low
AAAAHHHHHHH! I'm a crazy ho
I'm a keep the party live
Me and Timbaland gonna flip it tonight Missy
Keep yo hands in the sky
Wave 'em round like your crazy high