Xena Vs Buffy
Who will win the sing off?
Go to www.girlclumsy.com and Disco Stu (He doesn't need to advertise) to find out!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
A Bedtime Nightmare Endeth
I suppose it was inevitable that this day would come.
After many years of faithful service its time is at an end.
The metal monstrosity of a queen sized bed I have slept on for 12 years is about to be put out to pasture.
Weighing a hefty amount- it takes three men to move it - the black iron bed with the steel slats has been shifted from hither to yon for far too long.
It has been my main place of slumber here Spring Hill, Milton and the infamous share house, Lilley St for over a decade, but its story is older than that!
The bed originally belonged to my older sister in the late eighties. Back then it was the height of style and sported light weight wooden slats. She had it installed in her bedroom in Emerald, Western Queensland. Being an adventurous girl she quickly broke the wooden slats that held up the mattress and the fate of the bed seemed sealed. But her paramour at the time came up with a most ingenious plan. He welded steel bars to a steel frame and attached the entire massively heavy structure to the bed frame. All seemed to go well, and sister mine could be as adventurous as she liked. When she left Emerald the monstrously heavy bed was lugged back to Brisbane where it did the rounds of share houses until Sis left for Mother England.
The iron bed sat and waited in the darkness below the Parentals house for a few years, forgotten, biding its time.
In the mid nineties, I moved into Lilley Street. My old wooden single bed just didn't convey the worldliness I was trying to present to the lovely young things I attracted to my fetid basement . Somehow, I remembered Debbie's demonic metal bed, it called to me, and I knew I must have it.
And so it has followed me for 12 years. Different mattresses, a new lick of occasional paint, but the same steel frame; Herniating discs, crushing fingers and sapping the will to live of all that carry it.
But now, its end is near. GirlClumsy has ordered a new, lighter King sized bed! It will be delivered soon. The metal monster crouching in the bedroom will soon be taken away.
But the bed will have a few more victims. The delivery company offer a service; when they deliver the new bed they will remove your old bed for only $20. GirlClumsy and I almost couldn't keep a straight face when we agreed to the paltry sum. I feel sorry for the workmen who will have to remove the Steel Slumberer; $20 will not be enough their medical bills...
So, Hail, Mighty Bed! Oh, Steel Sprung Pallet! You have borne my weight for more than a decade and I, in turn have borne yours. You will be carried down the stairs in a hero's procession and you will sup on the pain of the youthful deliverymen.
Vengence shall be yours.
After many years of faithful service its time is at an end.
The metal monstrosity of a queen sized bed I have slept on for 12 years is about to be put out to pasture.
Weighing a hefty amount- it takes three men to move it - the black iron bed with the steel slats has been shifted from hither to yon for far too long.
It has been my main place of slumber here Spring Hill, Milton and the infamous share house, Lilley St for over a decade, but its story is older than that!
The bed originally belonged to my older sister in the late eighties. Back then it was the height of style and sported light weight wooden slats. She had it installed in her bedroom in Emerald, Western Queensland. Being an adventurous girl she quickly broke the wooden slats that held up the mattress and the fate of the bed seemed sealed. But her paramour at the time came up with a most ingenious plan. He welded steel bars to a steel frame and attached the entire massively heavy structure to the bed frame. All seemed to go well, and sister mine could be as adventurous as she liked. When she left Emerald the monstrously heavy bed was lugged back to Brisbane where it did the rounds of share houses until Sis left for Mother England.
The iron bed sat and waited in the darkness below the Parentals house for a few years, forgotten, biding its time.
In the mid nineties, I moved into Lilley Street. My old wooden single bed just didn't convey the worldliness I was trying to present to the lovely young things I attracted to my fetid basement . Somehow, I remembered Debbie's demonic metal bed, it called to me, and I knew I must have it.
And so it has followed me for 12 years. Different mattresses, a new lick of occasional paint, but the same steel frame; Herniating discs, crushing fingers and sapping the will to live of all that carry it.
But now, its end is near. GirlClumsy has ordered a new, lighter King sized bed! It will be delivered soon. The metal monster crouching in the bedroom will soon be taken away.
But the bed will have a few more victims. The delivery company offer a service; when they deliver the new bed they will remove your old bed for only $20. GirlClumsy and I almost couldn't keep a straight face when we agreed to the paltry sum. I feel sorry for the workmen who will have to remove the Steel Slumberer; $20 will not be enough their medical bills...
So, Hail, Mighty Bed! Oh, Steel Sprung Pallet! You have borne my weight for more than a decade and I, in turn have borne yours. You will be carried down the stairs in a hero's procession and you will sup on the pain of the youthful deliverymen.
Vengence shall be yours.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Three Nights in Bangkok...
... and the ping pong ball is your oyster, apparently.
After spending a night in Battambang. (Translates as Disappearing Stick.. Magic stick helps raise a humble cow herder to kingship, then the stick vanishes when he needs it most and the king gets it in the neck. Moral of the story "Don't trust Magic Sticks") we made our way to to the border of Cambodia and Thailand. Oh, how I love ridiculous bureaucracy and paperwork. I love even more GirlClumsy's and my steadfast refusal to jump the queue even though the tour guide, a local Cambodian named Pheap (Pee-ip), urged us to move ahead past others. I think queueing is genetically encoded into the anglo-saxon genome.
Finally we arrived in Bangkok. Venice of the East. Grimey city of 11 million. Many many tuk-tuks (taxi motorcycles that try to take you to shops you dont want to go to) and many many people desperate to get me to the dreaded ping pong show.
Now, I am as red blooded as the next man but I really have no interest in this sort of melarkey. One of the eager men that wanted me to follow him to pleasures both genital and sport related was so confused that I didnt want to go. He kept following me asking again again "You want Ping Pong Show?" The more I rebuffed him the the more confused and eager he became. Thinking I might believe it to be a boring ping pong match and not a young lady showing her mastery of genital hydraulics he started miming the actions from the show and gleefully yelling "Ping-Pong.. banana.. COKE BOTTLE!" ... Oh, the hilarity. I was approached so many times in the first evening I am worried I must look like "One of those Ping Pong Guys (tm)" brrrr.
Had a good look at the Grand Palace in the centre of the city (Very Cambodian in style.. I'm just saying that to piss the Thai off. Thailand was originally a Cambodian province that broke away about 800 years ago. For the rest of my life intend to point at things that look thai-ish and say "Cambodian?".. and then duck) and the Reclining Buddha statue (46m long, 15 high, gold plated from head to foot) at the WatPho temple. Biiiig Buddha.. smiling in that calm way that seemed to say to me "Hey Atheist, I could crush you like a bug. I won't... but I could".
GC and I are off to the Tiger Temple tomorrow and then off to the River Kwai for some more dark tourism.
The fun never stops!
After spending a night in Battambang. (Translates as Disappearing Stick.. Magic stick helps raise a humble cow herder to kingship, then the stick vanishes when he needs it most and the king gets it in the neck. Moral of the story "Don't trust Magic Sticks") we made our way to to the border of Cambodia and Thailand. Oh, how I love ridiculous bureaucracy and paperwork. I love even more GirlClumsy's and my steadfast refusal to jump the queue even though the tour guide, a local Cambodian named Pheap (Pee-ip), urged us to move ahead past others. I think queueing is genetically encoded into the anglo-saxon genome.
Finally we arrived in Bangkok. Venice of the East. Grimey city of 11 million. Many many tuk-tuks (taxi motorcycles that try to take you to shops you dont want to go to) and many many people desperate to get me to the dreaded ping pong show.
Now, I am as red blooded as the next man but I really have no interest in this sort of melarkey. One of the eager men that wanted me to follow him to pleasures both genital and sport related was so confused that I didnt want to go. He kept following me asking again again "You want Ping Pong Show?" The more I rebuffed him the the more confused and eager he became. Thinking I might believe it to be a boring ping pong match and not a young lady showing her mastery of genital hydraulics he started miming the actions from the show and gleefully yelling "Ping-Pong.. banana.. COKE BOTTLE!" ... Oh, the hilarity. I was approached so many times in the first evening I am worried I must look like "One of those Ping Pong Guys (tm)" brrrr.
Had a good look at the Grand Palace in the centre of the city (Very Cambodian in style.. I'm just saying that to piss the Thai off. Thailand was originally a Cambodian province that broke away about 800 years ago. For the rest of my life intend to point at things that look thai-ish and say "Cambodian?".. and then duck) and the Reclining Buddha statue (46m long, 15 high, gold plated from head to foot) at the WatPho temple. Biiiig Buddha.. smiling in that calm way that seemed to say to me "Hey Atheist, I could crush you like a bug. I won't... but I could".
GC and I are off to the Tiger Temple tomorrow and then off to the River Kwai for some more dark tourism.
The fun never stops!
Monday, July 27, 2009
You Siem Reap what you sow
I was 311 kilometres outside of Phnom Penh, sitting in the Foreign Correspondents Club in Siem Reap, dressed in my ridiculous Vietnam war era cloth hat, nursing yet another Angkor Beer when I started wondering "How did I get here?". Why was I here? What was the reason? Why was I becoming a bizarre Hunter S Thompson parody?
I could feel The Fear start to wash over me in waves but i wrestled the demon back into its box by slamming down a pint of the 75 cent local beer. Soon I could feel the warm fingers of dutch courage reinforce my testicular fortitude.
Then it all came clear...
The last time we chatted, dear reader, was back in Central Vietnam. I could regale you with tales, tall and true, about the journey south but I will leave that to the highly accomplished Girl Clumsy.
My story begins aboard a public bus heading out of Vietnam into Cambodia. Blasting in my ears from my portable music magic box is the Dead Kennedy's "Holiday in Cambodia". It is important, gentle reader, to have the right music for each country you travel. Vietnam has a massive range all going back to the American War. I chose "Fortunate Son" by Creedence Clearwater Revival, and "One Night in Bangkok" from the musical "Chess" will play me into Thailand.
The music sets the mood... and the wailing guitars of the Dead Kennedys pumped up for this unknown destination.
The first thing i noticed was comparative poverty of Cambodia compared to Vietnam. Now, don't get me wrong, the average Vietnamese is not wearing Gucci and buying this season's Prada bag... well they are but they are all cheap Chinese knock-offs - but i digress. After Pol Pot's little 4 year soiree through this land they lost nearly 50% of their population either from having their faces ripped off for being educated, related to the educated or standing upright at the wrong time or from dying from starvation after the glorious Year Zero. Let me tell you, Year Zero it was... everything was razed to the ground... schools, universities, hospitals - you name it. It has taken these people all this time to get off the ground.
But they have their sights aimed high and a spirit to match. It will be interesting to see how much this place grows in the next ten years, as long as their cold war tussle with Thailand over "who-owns-what-province" doesn't go hot.
The capital Phnom Penh is a bustling city, all mad asian energy and anarchy. They want to build a 75% scale replica of the Sydney opera house on the banks of the main river... mad! GC and I drank at the Foreign Correspondents Club in Phnom Penh (It is the places to be seen, donchaknow) and wandered the Russian Markets. I discovered GC was the world's worst haggler.
Cunning Cambodian Stall Woman - You give me 3 dolla, I give you shirt
GirlClumsy - NEVER! You give me shirt, I give you.... 2 dollars, fifty cents!
Cunning Cambodian Stall Woman - *Stunned* Um... OKAY!
The Wah - *Face Palm* DOH!
Not as amusing as watching GC single handedly stimulate the Cambodian economy was our visit to Pol Pot's S-21 secret prison. The fact he turned a high school into a place where thousands were incarcerated, mutilated and murdered makes my blood boil. I never realised we had an Auchwitz so close to our shores. From there the fun continued with a visit to the Killing Fields.
Holy Crap in a bucket. 17000 killed.. not with guns but with crowbars, axes and other blunt instruments of delight... and don't even ask me about the babies... If Pol Pot wasn't dead I'd kick him so hard in the groin his ancestors would wince.
Fun Fact - Pol Pot was a very charismatic man. Supposedly, all that knew him personally thought he was erudite, charming and friendly. You'd be grinning all the way up to the point he had his hired goons remove your face with a sharpened shovel. How do these bastards get loved so much... is it sort of mass murderer's cologne?
Anyhooo.. enough of the ugly past. GC and I blasted out of Phnom Penh and wound our way to Siem Reap (Another Fun Fact - Siem Reap translates roughly into "The Death of the Thai".. its good to see that even in Asia people fight, squabble and steal land from their neighbours.. huzzah for humanity). Siem Reap is a touristy (as far as that term applies to a place with only 11 years of stability since the Vietnamese pissed off) town that supplies eats and sleeps for the nearby Angkor Wat (and the more impressive complex Angkor Thom) temples.
You all know Angkor Wat... Buddhist/Hindu temples, one thousand years old, in the middle of the forest... Angelina Jolie played Lara Croft - Tomb Raider and shot up many of these temples in the name of Mom, Apple-Pie and the Almighty Dollar (actually I think Lara is English but I just don't care). GC and I were at Angkor Wat before dawn to see the sunrise be reflected in the pools in front of the main temple complex. Unfortunately my Sun God powers failed me again (missed the total solar eclipse by TWO days). I am starting to think my Sun God powers are euro-centric. Buddha and Shiva might be tagging teaming against me to deliver a Buddhist/Hindu Smackdown to my secular testicles. It didn't rain but the cloud cover was thick. No sunrise for us! We spent the next 7 hours wandering through literally kilometres of temples and ruins. Angkor Thom is a staggering 9km square!
Had the absolute time of my life.. and that was before the Elephants! We bought a hand of bananas and fed the Elephants as quickly as they wanted to be fed.. we had no choice :) I was in awe of these beautiful creatures. I kept giggling like a school boy. I think GC might have video evidence. I was enthralled by the way it would suddenly contract its pupil and really LOOK at me... mainly when I stopped feeding it bananas. When I ran out of food for it I showed the mighty beast my hands were empty. The elephant looked at me for a long moment and then took one large step forward. Its huge trunk came out and I was effectively frisked. Obviously these elephants are no one's fool!
Oh, don't get me started about the monkeys. They jumped our bus and refused to get off. Fun!
This is turning into a massive tome, and so, gentles all, I will leave you with this thought from the deck of the Foreign Correspondents Club here in Siem Reap. The local beer in Cambodia is cold, cheap and the best beer I have ever tasted.
I dip my ridiculous hat to Cambodia for that alone...
I could feel The Fear start to wash over me in waves but i wrestled the demon back into its box by slamming down a pint of the 75 cent local beer. Soon I could feel the warm fingers of dutch courage reinforce my testicular fortitude.
Then it all came clear...
The last time we chatted, dear reader, was back in Central Vietnam. I could regale you with tales, tall and true, about the journey south but I will leave that to the highly accomplished Girl Clumsy.
My story begins aboard a public bus heading out of Vietnam into Cambodia. Blasting in my ears from my portable music magic box is the Dead Kennedy's "Holiday in Cambodia". It is important, gentle reader, to have the right music for each country you travel. Vietnam has a massive range all going back to the American War. I chose "Fortunate Son" by Creedence Clearwater Revival, and "One Night in Bangkok" from the musical "Chess" will play me into Thailand.
The music sets the mood... and the wailing guitars of the Dead Kennedys pumped up for this unknown destination.
The first thing i noticed was comparative poverty of Cambodia compared to Vietnam. Now, don't get me wrong, the average Vietnamese is not wearing Gucci and buying this season's Prada bag... well they are but they are all cheap Chinese knock-offs - but i digress. After Pol Pot's little 4 year soiree through this land they lost nearly 50% of their population either from having their faces ripped off for being educated, related to the educated or standing upright at the wrong time or from dying from starvation after the glorious Year Zero. Let me tell you, Year Zero it was... everything was razed to the ground... schools, universities, hospitals - you name it. It has taken these people all this time to get off the ground.
But they have their sights aimed high and a spirit to match. It will be interesting to see how much this place grows in the next ten years, as long as their cold war tussle with Thailand over "who-owns-what-province" doesn't go hot.
The capital Phnom Penh is a bustling city, all mad asian energy and anarchy. They want to build a 75% scale replica of the Sydney opera house on the banks of the main river... mad! GC and I drank at the Foreign Correspondents Club in Phnom Penh (It is the places to be seen, donchaknow) and wandered the Russian Markets. I discovered GC was the world's worst haggler.
Cunning Cambodian Stall Woman - You give me 3 dolla, I give you shirt
GirlClumsy - NEVER! You give me shirt, I give you.... 2 dollars, fifty cents!
Cunning Cambodian Stall Woman - *Stunned* Um... OKAY!
The Wah - *Face Palm* DOH!
Not as amusing as watching GC single handedly stimulate the Cambodian economy was our visit to Pol Pot's S-21 secret prison. The fact he turned a high school into a place where thousands were incarcerated, mutilated and murdered makes my blood boil. I never realised we had an Auchwitz so close to our shores. From there the fun continued with a visit to the Killing Fields.
Holy Crap in a bucket. 17000 killed.. not with guns but with crowbars, axes and other blunt instruments of delight... and don't even ask me about the babies... If Pol Pot wasn't dead I'd kick him so hard in the groin his ancestors would wince.
Fun Fact - Pol Pot was a very charismatic man. Supposedly, all that knew him personally thought he was erudite, charming and friendly. You'd be grinning all the way up to the point he had his hired goons remove your face with a sharpened shovel. How do these bastards get loved so much... is it sort of mass murderer's cologne?
Anyhooo.. enough of the ugly past. GC and I blasted out of Phnom Penh and wound our way to Siem Reap (Another Fun Fact - Siem Reap translates roughly into "The Death of the Thai".. its good to see that even in Asia people fight, squabble and steal land from their neighbours.. huzzah for humanity). Siem Reap is a touristy (as far as that term applies to a place with only 11 years of stability since the Vietnamese pissed off) town that supplies eats and sleeps for the nearby Angkor Wat (and the more impressive complex Angkor Thom) temples.
You all know Angkor Wat... Buddhist/Hindu temples, one thousand years old, in the middle of the forest... Angelina Jolie played Lara Croft - Tomb Raider and shot up many of these temples in the name of Mom, Apple-Pie and the Almighty Dollar (actually I think Lara is English but I just don't care). GC and I were at Angkor Wat before dawn to see the sunrise be reflected in the pools in front of the main temple complex. Unfortunately my Sun God powers failed me again (missed the total solar eclipse by TWO days). I am starting to think my Sun God powers are euro-centric. Buddha and Shiva might be tagging teaming against me to deliver a Buddhist/Hindu Smackdown to my secular testicles. It didn't rain but the cloud cover was thick. No sunrise for us! We spent the next 7 hours wandering through literally kilometres of temples and ruins. Angkor Thom is a staggering 9km square!
Had the absolute time of my life.. and that was before the Elephants! We bought a hand of bananas and fed the Elephants as quickly as they wanted to be fed.. we had no choice :) I was in awe of these beautiful creatures. I kept giggling like a school boy. I think GC might have video evidence. I was enthralled by the way it would suddenly contract its pupil and really LOOK at me... mainly when I stopped feeding it bananas. When I ran out of food for it I showed the mighty beast my hands were empty. The elephant looked at me for a long moment and then took one large step forward. Its huge trunk came out and I was effectively frisked. Obviously these elephants are no one's fool!
Oh, don't get me started about the monkeys. They jumped our bus and refused to get off. Fun!
This is turning into a massive tome, and so, gentles all, I will leave you with this thought from the deck of the Foreign Correspondents Club here in Siem Reap. The local beer in Cambodia is cold, cheap and the best beer I have ever tasted.
I dip my ridiculous hat to Cambodia for that alone...
Monday, July 20, 2009
From Hue to Hoi An
With the brutal jellyfishing behind us, GirlClumsy and I moved onto Hue (Hway... actually, if you want to pronounce it properly you have to say Hway as if it was a question "Hway?". The upwards inflection at the end is the correct way to say it in vietnamese. Scary tonal languages!)
Hue is the old capital of the Champa kingdom and also of Vietnam in the past. It is biggish city with all the fun and frivolty a big city can provide, but more importantly it still has the walled imperial city at its heart. Our wonderful hostel/resort was in the middle of the imperial city. Oh, how the vietnamese ancestors must be rolling in their burial pots knowing that decadent capitalist westerners trample their ancient soil. Even more exciting we can get into the walled "Forbidden City" of the walled Imperial City. This was where the King and his 500 concubines used to hang out.. it is good to be the king, it seems. Most of the Forbidden City was bombed back to rubble during the "American War" (yep, not the Vietnam War.. but that makes sense here at ground zero) but now is being restored and rebuilt.
When Vietnam went over to communism with Colonel Sanders.. um, i mean Ho Chi Minh (He DOES look like the Colonel.. deny it!) the King stood down peacefully (at first). This means that many of his family still live in Hue. They are considered "small potatoes" in the glorious revolution but they are affluent potatoes.. with heads still attached to shoulders. Hue was the first city to south of the 17th parallel to fall to the north vietnamese after the americans decided to cut their losses and skedaddle.
We went on a fabulous motorcycle ride through the Hue countryside www.girlclumsy.com has all the gory details on that little piece of madness.
We then took a slow bus to Hoi An (Hoy Ann). Hoi An has a beautiful old town section with delightful little buildings and many markets pushed into the streets. You can buy everything from dead fish to dead flowers ;) I pointed out to Natalie that all the shops here are very similar. It is all "Dead Chickens and T-Shirts". I think that might sum up Vietnam's shopping entirely.
Fun Fact! Cat (Small Tiger) tastes like rabbit and Dog tastes like goat.. so now you know. Yes, they do eat anything made from meat, excluding people. You better be careful if you order a "small tiger beer". You may just end up with a plate of mysterious meat and a local brew instead of the small can of chinese beer you were after... sinister. The best beer by far here in Vietnam, so far, is Hudas. Oh, the hilarity in hearing the joke "Those are the biggest Hudas I have ever seen". My sides nearly split. (GirlClumsy has a pic with her Hudas showing.. and if you ask her nicely she might just post it!).
Not everything in Hoi An is dead chickens and tshirts. The ancient town is well known for cheap and fast, good quality tailors. The 2km square area has 400 tailors or different costs and quality.
GirlClumsy nearly blew a gasket when she realised she could have anything made from photos or internet pictures, and it would be tailored to fit her measurements. She has been a one woman shopping dynamo terrifying the population with her enthusiasm for shopping and her cheery "You give me another shirt/pants/suit for free because I am a nice person" (it even worked).
I had no interest in this coutre madness but GirlClumsy will not be denied. I was flung into Yali (the number one tailor in Hoi Am, supposedly) with but one mission "Get thee a suit, Mr Wah"
I had to brave the feminine terrors of the tailors. Lovely vietnamese woman ask "What cut do you want? What colour? What fabric?" HOW THE HELL DO I KNOW?! I am a colour blind man built like a belligerent potato and you think i know about fabrics?!
After much cursing, swearing, sobbing and pleading (all from me) I managed to have made a rather natty black suit with purple lining.
Oh yes, I am The Fashion Wah.
GC left me today to my own devices after we came back from seeing the Hindu ruins of My Son (Me Sun). They were very interesting and well worth a visit if you are ever in this part of the world. It is amazing how 70 temples to Shiva and Vishnu can be lost for hundreds of years in the Vietnamese jungles... well, actually it is amazing they dont lose more towns in these jungles. Very Jungly.
GC has been off having more jackets made up and threatened me with the phrase "I am going for a full body treatment at a day spa"... sounds positively filthy!
Anyhoo.. having a marvellous time here in Vietnam. This country has everything. History, food and enough different wars to keep you interested for decades.
Finally, Happy Birthday to my Mater!
and well done to the Americans for putting men on the moon 40 years ago...
Wah.. Out!
Hue is the old capital of the Champa kingdom and also of Vietnam in the past. It is biggish city with all the fun and frivolty a big city can provide, but more importantly it still has the walled imperial city at its heart. Our wonderful hostel/resort was in the middle of the imperial city. Oh, how the vietnamese ancestors must be rolling in their burial pots knowing that decadent capitalist westerners trample their ancient soil. Even more exciting we can get into the walled "Forbidden City" of the walled Imperial City. This was where the King and his 500 concubines used to hang out.. it is good to be the king, it seems. Most of the Forbidden City was bombed back to rubble during the "American War" (yep, not the Vietnam War.. but that makes sense here at ground zero) but now is being restored and rebuilt.
When Vietnam went over to communism with Colonel Sanders.. um, i mean Ho Chi Minh (He DOES look like the Colonel.. deny it!) the King stood down peacefully (at first). This means that many of his family still live in Hue. They are considered "small potatoes" in the glorious revolution but they are affluent potatoes.. with heads still attached to shoulders. Hue was the first city to south of the 17th parallel to fall to the north vietnamese after the americans decided to cut their losses and skedaddle.
We went on a fabulous motorcycle ride through the Hue countryside www.girlclumsy.com has all the gory details on that little piece of madness.
We then took a slow bus to Hoi An (Hoy Ann). Hoi An has a beautiful old town section with delightful little buildings and many markets pushed into the streets. You can buy everything from dead fish to dead flowers ;) I pointed out to Natalie that all the shops here are very similar. It is all "Dead Chickens and T-Shirts". I think that might sum up Vietnam's shopping entirely.
Fun Fact! Cat (Small Tiger) tastes like rabbit and Dog tastes like goat.. so now you know. Yes, they do eat anything made from meat, excluding people. You better be careful if you order a "small tiger beer". You may just end up with a plate of mysterious meat and a local brew instead of the small can of chinese beer you were after... sinister. The best beer by far here in Vietnam, so far, is Hudas. Oh, the hilarity in hearing the joke "Those are the biggest Hudas I have ever seen". My sides nearly split. (GirlClumsy has a pic with her Hudas showing.. and if you ask her nicely she might just post it!).
Not everything in Hoi An is dead chickens and tshirts. The ancient town is well known for cheap and fast, good quality tailors. The 2km square area has 400 tailors or different costs and quality.
GirlClumsy nearly blew a gasket when she realised she could have anything made from photos or internet pictures, and it would be tailored to fit her measurements. She has been a one woman shopping dynamo terrifying the population with her enthusiasm for shopping and her cheery "You give me another shirt/pants/suit for free because I am a nice person" (it even worked).
I had no interest in this coutre madness but GirlClumsy will not be denied. I was flung into Yali (the number one tailor in Hoi Am, supposedly) with but one mission "Get thee a suit, Mr Wah"
I had to brave the feminine terrors of the tailors. Lovely vietnamese woman ask "What cut do you want? What colour? What fabric?" HOW THE HELL DO I KNOW?! I am a colour blind man built like a belligerent potato and you think i know about fabrics?!
After much cursing, swearing, sobbing and pleading (all from me) I managed to have made a rather natty black suit with purple lining.
Oh yes, I am The Fashion Wah.
GC left me today to my own devices after we came back from seeing the Hindu ruins of My Son (Me Sun). They were very interesting and well worth a visit if you are ever in this part of the world. It is amazing how 70 temples to Shiva and Vishnu can be lost for hundreds of years in the Vietnamese jungles... well, actually it is amazing they dont lose more towns in these jungles. Very Jungly.
GC has been off having more jackets made up and threatened me with the phrase "I am going for a full body treatment at a day spa"... sounds positively filthy!
Anyhoo.. having a marvellous time here in Vietnam. This country has everything. History, food and enough different wars to keep you interested for decades.
Finally, Happy Birthday to my Mater!
and well done to the Americans for putting men on the moon 40 years ago...
Wah.. Out!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Good Morning.... Hanoi
Well, GirlClumsy and I have arrived safely in Vietnam.
Hanoi is a mad mad city. 6 million or so and they all drive scooters.. anyway they want to. When you want to cross the street you just have to step out and face the madness. In the end the imminent vehicular death becomes rather blaise!
No Fear!
GC and I went to Ha Long Bay. Full of limestone islands jutting straight out of the ocean, and huge caves within those islands... and jellyfish.
Both GirlClumsy and I were stung by jellyfish when we were swimming. It hurt, a lot. Even better, the boat didn't have any vinegar... mmm burning pain.
But we aren't dead... so nyah to you Vietnam!
The Wah adds jellyfish to things that can not kill him! BOOYAH! Take that gelantinous terror!
Hanoi is a mad mad city. 6 million or so and they all drive scooters.. anyway they want to. When you want to cross the street you just have to step out and face the madness. In the end the imminent vehicular death becomes rather blaise!
No Fear!
GC and I went to Ha Long Bay. Full of limestone islands jutting straight out of the ocean, and huge caves within those islands... and jellyfish.
Both GirlClumsy and I were stung by jellyfish when we were swimming. It hurt, a lot. Even better, the boat didn't have any vinegar... mmm burning pain.
But we aren't dead... so nyah to you Vietnam!
The Wah adds jellyfish to things that can not kill him! BOOYAH! Take that gelantinous terror!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Remission
The second series of "Prognosis: Death! - RELAPSE" has finished.
It was an amazing experience to have a role in this totally improvised medical, comedy, drama, science-fiction mash-up.
We had excellent houses every night. On the final night we broke 100! ... and splashed quite a few with our stage blood as well... Where else can you see real, fake medical procedures on stage?
Dr Burton Mangold operates on himself
What is especially gratifying, and a little bit spooky, is the level of fandom that has built up around the production. We sold 20 season passes (see all the six shows for only $45 or $30 if you were concession) and 40 merchandising badges. We had quite a few patrons watching the show dressed in medical costumes!
"Prognosis : Death!" is a fan favourite and I can reveal that the series 3 "Prognosis: Death! - PANDEMIC" will make an appearance at the Arts Theatre next year.
Prognosis: Death! - RELAPSE
Season 2
Episode 4 - "St Love: Action Comics No.1"
The St Love Family Nuclear Facility suffers a catastrophic meltdown. However, due to the expertise and quick thinking of Dr Burton Mangold not one person dies. And all this before the starting credits! Unfortunately the local wildlife is irradiated, including the St Love Sloth. Dr Ludwig LeStrange is bitten by the isotopic sloths and begins an amazing transformation into Sloth-Man! With his steady brachiating powers and his powerful grip he begins to fight crime in St Love. Little did he know that greta power leads to great silliness. A worker at the nuclear facility was also irradiated. When he is merged with Hammy the Hamster he becomes "Hamster-Man" and vows revenge on St Love. Can Sloth-Man overcome the vaguely piss-poor plots of Hamster-Man? Will it take all day? How will the staff of St Love Hospital survive the slightly ineffectual assaults of Hamster-Man and his sidekick Guinea-Piggy?!
Episode 5 - "St Love and the Odyssessy"
When a ancient vase, covered in ancient greek homosexual erotic art, is delivered to Chief Medical SuperIntendent Harold Dean, little does he realise what horrors it contains. Nurse Lottie Buble, ignored by her paramour Dr Burton Mangold, is possessed (possession happens a lot at St Love Hospital) by the man-eating (literally) Siren that lives in the greek vase. Her murderous rampage throughout the hospital leaves a trail of blood, organs and lilting singing in her wake. Can the surviving members of the staff track down the Siren and rescue Buble's soul? Can love conquer all? Can we ever get the blood out of the back curtain at the theatre?
Dare you enter the labyrinth of the Gay Minotaur?
The Siren stalks the Earth again!
Episode 6 - "St Love the and the Cursed Gold of Quetzacoatl"
We discover that St Love was founded when Spanish Conquistadors slaughtered a tribe of Aztecs during an ancient aztec mytical rite. The Spanish steal the Aztec's idol but not before they are cursed by the dying priest. What aztecs are doing in this part of the world... we have no idea.
Years later...
Dr Rik Cocksteady has returned to St Love and has become the Mayor. He knows about the aztec gold and wants it for his own. Putting his devilish plan in operation he shuts down the hospital and takes the aztec idol for his own. Little does he realise that the idol is cursed! Soon he falls to its power and his madness grows. Cocksteady goes on a murderous rampage throughout the hospital (these happen a lot at St Love hospital as well) and it is up to staff of St Love to stop him. Will the hospital re-open? Will the Curse of of Quetzacoatl be broken? Will Cocksteady get the gold he really wants... Mangold? ... and who is that mystery man hiding in the shadows and why does he look so much like Dr Burton Mangold?
Hell hath no fury like a Nurse, and a Doctor everyone always calls a Nurse, scorned
The Wedding of Dr Burton Mangold and Nurse Buble
WHAT CAN GO WRONG!?!?!?
Another season behind us and so many twists and turns in front of us. What does the future hold in store for the staff at St Love Hospital?
Cleanup needed in operating room three
It was an amazing experience to have a role in this totally improvised medical, comedy, drama, science-fiction mash-up.
We had excellent houses every night. On the final night we broke 100! ... and splashed quite a few with our stage blood as well... Where else can you see real, fake medical procedures on stage?
Dr Burton Mangold operates on himselfWhat is especially gratifying, and a little bit spooky, is the level of fandom that has built up around the production. We sold 20 season passes (see all the six shows for only $45 or $30 if you were concession) and 40 merchandising badges. We had quite a few patrons watching the show dressed in medical costumes!
"Prognosis : Death!" is a fan favourite and I can reveal that the series 3 "Prognosis: Death! - PANDEMIC" will make an appearance at the Arts Theatre next year.
Prognosis: Death! - RELAPSE
Season 2
Episode 4 - "St Love: Action Comics No.1"
The St Love Family Nuclear Facility suffers a catastrophic meltdown. However, due to the expertise and quick thinking of Dr Burton Mangold not one person dies. And all this before the starting credits! Unfortunately the local wildlife is irradiated, including the St Love Sloth. Dr Ludwig LeStrange is bitten by the isotopic sloths and begins an amazing transformation into Sloth-Man! With his steady brachiating powers and his powerful grip he begins to fight crime in St Love. Little did he know that greta power leads to great silliness. A worker at the nuclear facility was also irradiated. When he is merged with Hammy the Hamster he becomes "Hamster-Man" and vows revenge on St Love. Can Sloth-Man overcome the vaguely piss-poor plots of Hamster-Man? Will it take all day? How will the staff of St Love Hospital survive the slightly ineffectual assaults of Hamster-Man and his sidekick Guinea-Piggy?!
Episode 5 - "St Love and the Odyssessy"
When a ancient vase, covered in ancient greek homosexual erotic art, is delivered to Chief Medical SuperIntendent Harold Dean, little does he realise what horrors it contains. Nurse Lottie Buble, ignored by her paramour Dr Burton Mangold, is possessed (possession happens a lot at St Love Hospital) by the man-eating (literally) Siren that lives in the greek vase. Her murderous rampage throughout the hospital leaves a trail of blood, organs and lilting singing in her wake. Can the surviving members of the staff track down the Siren and rescue Buble's soul? Can love conquer all? Can we ever get the blood out of the back curtain at the theatre?
Dare you enter the labyrinth of the Gay Minotaur?
The Siren stalks the Earth again!Episode 6 - "St Love the and the Cursed Gold of Quetzacoatl"
We discover that St Love was founded when Spanish Conquistadors slaughtered a tribe of Aztecs during an ancient aztec mytical rite. The Spanish steal the Aztec's idol but not before they are cursed by the dying priest. What aztecs are doing in this part of the world... we have no idea.
Years later...
Dr Rik Cocksteady has returned to St Love and has become the Mayor. He knows about the aztec gold and wants it for his own. Putting his devilish plan in operation he shuts down the hospital and takes the aztec idol for his own. Little does he realise that the idol is cursed! Soon he falls to its power and his madness grows. Cocksteady goes on a murderous rampage throughout the hospital (these happen a lot at St Love hospital as well) and it is up to staff of St Love to stop him. Will the hospital re-open? Will the Curse of of Quetzacoatl be broken? Will Cocksteady get the gold he really wants... Mangold? ... and who is that mystery man hiding in the shadows and why does he look so much like Dr Burton Mangold?
Hell hath no fury like a Nurse, and a Doctor everyone always calls a Nurse, scorned
The Wedding of Dr Burton Mangold and Nurse BubleWHAT CAN GO WRONG!?!?!?
Cleanup needed in operating room threeWednesday, July 08, 2009
You Lucky, Lucky Bastard
Larry Niven, in his "Ringworld" novels, suggested the idea that human beings are the dominant form of life on the planet not because they were genetically predisposed to being smart but because they were genetically predisposed to being lucky. He even toyed with the idea of aliens breeding certain human bloodlines to create the ultimate lucky human.
Recently I benefited from good old human luck.
Before I go on I'll make the point that if you are reading this you are, like me, incredibly lucky in the first place. You were born into a time with amazing technology and freedom and you were born on a part of the planet that probably places you at the top 10% of the wealthiest people on the entire Earth.
Okay, segue over, now onto the Luck ontop of the generic luck.
I am currently studying a Bachelor of Education and, for my sins, I will soon be a teacher of children. I'll let that sink for a moment... Chilling, isn't it?
Last semester I was forced to do a subject called 'Advanced Calculus B'. I have no love for higher mathematics; I see its use, and I like using it as a tool of Physics but I get no joy from the mathematics itself. It is merely a tool I employ to complete a job. I may enjoy building a house but I get no joy from learning how a hammer or saw operates.
Last year I did 'Advanced Calculus A' and, through hard work and perseverence, managed to squeak in with a High Distinction. It was difficult and required a lot of effort but I seem to 'get' Differentiation of a function. It made some sort of sense to me.
But 'Advanced Calculus B' saw the onset of Integration, and that was a whole new, nasty smelling, kettle of fish. For those of you with knowledge of the subject you may find my difficulty at Integration perplexing. Integration is Differentiation in reverse. If you have a function and you Differentiate it and then you Integrate the new function generated you end up with the original function. It all sounds so simple when you put it like that. But for some reason I couldn't make the damn thing work. As the weeks went on Integration became more arcane and unfathomable. I kept hoping the light of comprehension would shine through the clouds of confusion... but it never did.
I was beside myself with worry. The final exam was in less than a week and I had to study for it and my Global Systems subject at the same time. I had ballsed up the mid-semester test something awful and the two assignments I had handed in were more amusing than enlightening (I have a habit of writing fun comics and gags on my assignments and exams when I am either confident or terrified of the work. It would be interesting to see if people could see which was which). As the final days of study approached I was bogged in the mire of Integration with no help in sight. As the cool kids say 'OMG!'.
I kept hoping to be struck down with Swine Flu or a bad case of Terrorism but to no avail. I was hale and hearty, at least physically; the stress was making as mad as a cut snake on LSD.
On the very final day of available study I went through the past exams of the subject. They had been posted by the lecturer a few weeks earlier. To my horror I flunked every..single.. one of them. Utterly ballsed them up. Completely fubared the lot. I was, as they say, up excrement stream without a method of propulsion.
The trip to the university and the exam room was a long and dark one. I took my seat with a class of, mainly, fresh faced and beautiful young nerds. My heart was heavy as I waited for the aging invigilator to ring the bell so we could respond pavlovian style and begin the exam.
And that, gentle reader, is when I realised how lucky I was. Much of the exam I had seen before! Less than 12 hours earlier I had been attempting a past exam and this new exam before me was 50% copied from that exam: almost number for number. Of course, there were a few cosmetic changes, an x squared to an x cubed, or a minus sign added here and there, but at its core it was essentially the same exam... and though I flubbed it the first time round it occurred to me that I could still remember the answers as given by the lecturer... Out poured the memorised answers, with a few necessary cosmetic changes. Slightly more than 50% of the exam pulled almost directly from memory. The rest of the work I manfully attempted. Writing and re-writing, scribbling ideas and concepts hither and yon.
At the end of our allotted time, the craggy faced old woman (who they seem to clone to watch over university exams), rang her little bell again to signal the end. I looked around at the beautiful geeks surrounding me. I could see an equal mix of terror and elation on their smooth, unblemished faces (but maybe that is a common mixture of emotions on the faces of those not quite through the Terror of Puberty). Making my way out of the university grounds I was numb. I couldn't believe how fortunate I had just been.
The full power of my fortune became apparent at the start of this week when I received my over all grade for the subject: a Distinction. Albeit, I had sidled into a Distinction by 1% but a 6 is a 6 and I will hear not a jot against it, Sir!
So, the 64 thousand dollar question is... can I Integrate?
Not really...
If I saw an Integration on the horizon I could probably distinguish it by its sunlit silhouette but don't ask me if it is the Southern Hairy Nosed Integration or its more Northerly cousin.
Could I teach it to high school kidlings?
Probably not... but I never intend to teach mathematics to school kids, especially not university level mathematics. It is not one of my majors, thank the gods.
Did I cheat to achieve the mark I achieved?
Is it cheating when the lecturer is lazy enough to cut and paste 50% of an exam from three years ago and shove it this year's exam? I say, No.
Did you actually learn anything in the 13 weeks doing the subject 'Advanced Calculus B'?
I learnt that fortune favours the prepared mind. I learnt that I am a lucky, lucky bastard, albeit that didn't take 13 weeks to grasp but only the last three hours of the course, in exam conditions.
Recently I benefited from good old human luck.
Before I go on I'll make the point that if you are reading this you are, like me, incredibly lucky in the first place. You were born into a time with amazing technology and freedom and you were born on a part of the planet that probably places you at the top 10% of the wealthiest people on the entire Earth.
Okay, segue over, now onto the Luck ontop of the generic luck.
I am currently studying a Bachelor of Education and, for my sins, I will soon be a teacher of children. I'll let that sink for a moment... Chilling, isn't it?
Last semester I was forced to do a subject called 'Advanced Calculus B'. I have no love for higher mathematics; I see its use, and I like using it as a tool of Physics but I get no joy from the mathematics itself. It is merely a tool I employ to complete a job. I may enjoy building a house but I get no joy from learning how a hammer or saw operates.
Last year I did 'Advanced Calculus A' and, through hard work and perseverence, managed to squeak in with a High Distinction. It was difficult and required a lot of effort but I seem to 'get' Differentiation of a function. It made some sort of sense to me.
But 'Advanced Calculus B' saw the onset of Integration, and that was a whole new, nasty smelling, kettle of fish. For those of you with knowledge of the subject you may find my difficulty at Integration perplexing. Integration is Differentiation in reverse. If you have a function and you Differentiate it and then you Integrate the new function generated you end up with the original function. It all sounds so simple when you put it like that. But for some reason I couldn't make the damn thing work. As the weeks went on Integration became more arcane and unfathomable. I kept hoping the light of comprehension would shine through the clouds of confusion... but it never did.
I was beside myself with worry. The final exam was in less than a week and I had to study for it and my Global Systems subject at the same time. I had ballsed up the mid-semester test something awful and the two assignments I had handed in were more amusing than enlightening (I have a habit of writing fun comics and gags on my assignments and exams when I am either confident or terrified of the work. It would be interesting to see if people could see which was which). As the final days of study approached I was bogged in the mire of Integration with no help in sight. As the cool kids say 'OMG!'.
I kept hoping to be struck down with Swine Flu or a bad case of Terrorism but to no avail. I was hale and hearty, at least physically; the stress was making as mad as a cut snake on LSD.
On the very final day of available study I went through the past exams of the subject. They had been posted by the lecturer a few weeks earlier. To my horror I flunked every..single.. one of them. Utterly ballsed them up. Completely fubared the lot. I was, as they say, up excrement stream without a method of propulsion.
The trip to the university and the exam room was a long and dark one. I took my seat with a class of, mainly, fresh faced and beautiful young nerds. My heart was heavy as I waited for the aging invigilator to ring the bell so we could respond pavlovian style and begin the exam.
And that, gentle reader, is when I realised how lucky I was. Much of the exam I had seen before! Less than 12 hours earlier I had been attempting a past exam and this new exam before me was 50% copied from that exam: almost number for number. Of course, there were a few cosmetic changes, an x squared to an x cubed, or a minus sign added here and there, but at its core it was essentially the same exam... and though I flubbed it the first time round it occurred to me that I could still remember the answers as given by the lecturer... Out poured the memorised answers, with a few necessary cosmetic changes. Slightly more than 50% of the exam pulled almost directly from memory. The rest of the work I manfully attempted. Writing and re-writing, scribbling ideas and concepts hither and yon.
At the end of our allotted time, the craggy faced old woman (who they seem to clone to watch over university exams), rang her little bell again to signal the end. I looked around at the beautiful geeks surrounding me. I could see an equal mix of terror and elation on their smooth, unblemished faces (but maybe that is a common mixture of emotions on the faces of those not quite through the Terror of Puberty). Making my way out of the university grounds I was numb. I couldn't believe how fortunate I had just been.
The full power of my fortune became apparent at the start of this week when I received my over all grade for the subject: a Distinction. Albeit, I had sidled into a Distinction by 1% but a 6 is a 6 and I will hear not a jot against it, Sir!
So, the 64 thousand dollar question is... can I Integrate?
Not really...
If I saw an Integration on the horizon I could probably distinguish it by its sunlit silhouette but don't ask me if it is the Southern Hairy Nosed Integration or its more Northerly cousin.
Could I teach it to high school kidlings?
Probably not... but I never intend to teach mathematics to school kids, especially not university level mathematics. It is not one of my majors, thank the gods.
Did I cheat to achieve the mark I achieved?
Is it cheating when the lecturer is lazy enough to cut and paste 50% of an exam from three years ago and shove it this year's exam? I say, No.
Did you actually learn anything in the 13 weeks doing the subject 'Advanced Calculus B'?
I learnt that fortune favours the prepared mind. I learnt that I am a lucky, lucky bastard, albeit that didn't take 13 weeks to grasp but only the last three hours of the course, in exam conditions.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Prognosis : Death! - RELAPSE!
It seems you can't keep a good hospital down. ImproMafia's Medical, Comedy, Soap Opera "Prognosis: Death" is back at the Brisbane Arts Theatre for it's second season (codenamed - RELAPSE!).
You can read the synopses of all Season One in earlier posts in this blog
The medical staff of St Love Hospital have to deal with many strange events.
Monsters, Tragedy and ... Love!
(and don't forget the buckets of blood sprayed onto the cast each night)
Prognosis : Death! - RELAPSE!
Season Two
Episode One - "St Love and the Visitors"
Dr Burton Mangold stands up Nurse Lottie Buble at their wedding and vanishes to places unknown.
... months pass at St Love...
One night a strange light from the sky attracts Reverend Jeremy Thistlewaite to the St Love National Forest. He is possessed by an alien life form that wishes to turn all of St Love into a race of mind controlled slaves in fabulous headdresses. When all seems lost it is revealed that the man everyone thought was the St Love Lighthouse Keeper was none other than Dr Burton Mangold in a cunning disguise! Torn apart by their conflicting desires, Mangold, Buble and the rest of the St Love staff have to somehow come together to fight back the FABULOUS alien menace.
Nurse Buble learns the meaning of the expression "Splashback"
Episode Two - "St Love and the Phantom"
aka "The Phantom of the Operating Theatre"
Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) had a difficult start to her career. At St Love Medical School her mentor was tragically crushed by a badly stacked pile of George Foreman Grills. Many years later at St Love Hospital rats erupt from the basement levels of the hospital and a strange disembodied voice is heard calling to Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern). Could this be her mutilated mentor back from the dead looking for revenge? Who will the Phantom kill to gain his revenge? Can the Staff of St Love stop his mad schemes.. and is the mirror-ball in the St Love Dance Hall about to come smashing to the ground?
The Phantom of the Operating Theatre
Episode Three - "St Love and the Voodoo Curse"
Reverend Jeremy Thistewaite is struck down by a strange Voodoo curse and falls into a coma. He is replaced by the sensual latino Reverend Casanova Lovechild, The sexiest priest from St Love's Latin Quarter. Dr Melody Carmichael and Dr Ludwig LeStrange, one by one, fall to the voodoo curse becoming lust filled marionettes. Can all this evil voodoo be blamed on Reverend Casanova Lovechild? Why has Chief Medical Superintendent Harold Dean been seen with a creepy nun puppet that talks in a voice not his own? Can even Dr Burton Mangold, the best damn doctor in all of St Love, stop this VooDoo threat?
Feel the sultry, sweaty, smoky and sexy power of Reverend Casanova Lovechild, the sexiest priest from St Love's Latin Quarter
The first three episodes of "Prognosis: Death - RELAPSE" have been a hoot and a half. If you missed any of these shows, don't be disheartened! There are three more shows you can see.
Every night is improvised, so every storyline is fresh and new based on suggestions from you the audience.
This season we are offering personalised hospital ID badges for sale at the show. Created by Dan Beeston (www.invisiblespiders.com) these badges will make you one of the staff of St Love Hospital.
Personalised St Love Hospital ID Badge
For more information go to www.impromafia.com or www.artstheatre.com
The Staff of St Love Hospital
You can read the synopses of all Season One in earlier posts in this blog
The medical staff of St Love Hospital have to deal with many strange events.
Monsters, Tragedy and ... Love!
(and don't forget the buckets of blood sprayed onto the cast each night)
Prognosis : Death! - RELAPSE!
Season Two
Episode One - "St Love and the Visitors"
Dr Burton Mangold stands up Nurse Lottie Buble at their wedding and vanishes to places unknown.
... months pass at St Love...
One night a strange light from the sky attracts Reverend Jeremy Thistlewaite to the St Love National Forest. He is possessed by an alien life form that wishes to turn all of St Love into a race of mind controlled slaves in fabulous headdresses. When all seems lost it is revealed that the man everyone thought was the St Love Lighthouse Keeper was none other than Dr Burton Mangold in a cunning disguise! Torn apart by their conflicting desires, Mangold, Buble and the rest of the St Love staff have to somehow come together to fight back the FABULOUS alien menace.
Nurse Buble learns the meaning of the expression "Splashback"Episode Two - "St Love and the Phantom"
aka "The Phantom of the Operating Theatre"
Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) had a difficult start to her career. At St Love Medical School her mentor was tragically crushed by a badly stacked pile of George Foreman Grills. Many years later at St Love Hospital rats erupt from the basement levels of the hospital and a strange disembodied voice is heard calling to Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern). Could this be her mutilated mentor back from the dead looking for revenge? Who will the Phantom kill to gain his revenge? Can the Staff of St Love stop his mad schemes.. and is the mirror-ball in the St Love Dance Hall about to come smashing to the ground?
The Phantom of the Operating Theatre
Episode Three - "St Love and the Voodoo Curse"
Reverend Jeremy Thistewaite is struck down by a strange Voodoo curse and falls into a coma. He is replaced by the sensual latino Reverend Casanova Lovechild, The sexiest priest from St Love's Latin Quarter. Dr Melody Carmichael and Dr Ludwig LeStrange, one by one, fall to the voodoo curse becoming lust filled marionettes. Can all this evil voodoo be blamed on Reverend Casanova Lovechild? Why has Chief Medical Superintendent Harold Dean been seen with a creepy nun puppet that talks in a voice not his own? Can even Dr Burton Mangold, the best damn doctor in all of St Love, stop this VooDoo threat?
Feel the sultry, sweaty, smoky and sexy power of Reverend Casanova Lovechild, the sexiest priest from St Love's Latin QuarterThe first three episodes of "Prognosis: Death - RELAPSE" have been a hoot and a half. If you missed any of these shows, don't be disheartened! There are three more shows you can see.
Every night is improvised, so every storyline is fresh and new based on suggestions from you the audience.
This season we are offering personalised hospital ID badges for sale at the show. Created by Dan Beeston (www.invisiblespiders.com) these badges will make you one of the staff of St Love Hospital.
Personalised St Love Hospital ID BadgeFor more information go to www.impromafia.com or www.artstheatre.com
Welcome to St Love Hospital "You'll lose your mind, your heart.. and possibly your kidneys"
The Staff of St Love HospitalAll the photos were taken by St Love Hospital's resident musician, Kris Anderson or his wife, Wanda. Check out Kris' amazing impro-musical blog at www.musicalhotspot.com
Saturday, May 02, 2009
How to stop Swine Flu Infection
I thought I should give a public announcement on how best to stop the spread of Swine Flu. Hopefully this will quell some of the crazy panic I have seen on this issue
1. Wash your hands every time you go to the toilet (this is common-sense 101, people!
2. Use a tissue every time you cough or sneeze. Dispose of tissue hygienically.
3. Avoid touching your nose or mouth... your sweet sensuous mouth (no.. stop it! leave it alone!)
4. If you see an infected person cut off their head or destroy the brain. I repeat, remove the head or destroy the brain
Wait... is that Swine Flu or Zombies... hmmm
Either way, I have my Medical Issue Shotgun and Anti-Swine Flu Axe, a truck full of tinned food and an impregnable bolt hole to weather the crisis.
Those of you that I deem useful will be contacted soon. The rest of you are on your own!
Be Alert, Not Alarmed.. and swing for the neck!
1. Wash your hands every time you go to the toilet (this is common-sense 101, people!
2. Use a tissue every time you cough or sneeze. Dispose of tissue hygienically.
3. Avoid touching your nose or mouth... your sweet sensuous mouth (no.. stop it! leave it alone!)
4. If you see an infected person cut off their head or destroy the brain. I repeat, remove the head or destroy the brain
Wait... is that Swine Flu or Zombies... hmmm
Either way, I have my Medical Issue Shotgun and Anti-Swine Flu Axe, a truck full of tinned food and an impregnable bolt hole to weather the crisis.
Those of you that I deem useful will be contacted soon. The rest of you are on your own!
Be Alert, Not Alarmed.. and swing for the neck!
Monday, April 13, 2009
The True Story of Easter
I know it isn't politically correct to say so but it was a certain race that crucified Christ. This race has been around for a long time, they think of themselves as the most important people in the universe and they have big ... eyestalks (!?)
Yes, It was the Daleks who kicked off the whole Christian thingame.
Yes, It was the Daleks who kicked off the whole Christian thingame.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Death March 2009
What did you get up to on Valentine's day? I thought of the best present I could give to Girlclumsy. I packed my bag while she still slumbered and headed out into the world to see how far away I could walk from her in eight hours.
So began what became to be known as Death-March 2009.
To be honest it had nothing to do with GC really. I had been waiting for the right weather (cloudy, raining and cool) to attempt the eight hour walk.
Why would I want to walk for eight hours? Well, I know many people who seem to be doing interesting things such as blogs, webcomics, giving birth and raising maggots. The internet gives a thin veneer of legitimacy for any cockamamie idea you might have.
The idea had been percolating through my skull for a few weeks. I like to walk. I walk quickly and with purpose. People who know me know that I hate aimless rambling. I don't really care in what direction I go in as long as it purposeful walking. I have always been fascinated with the stories about women having to walk 20 km a day to collect water for their families or armies having to march vast distances before squaring up with a less tired force. Most of us in Australia today live rather sedentary lives. I was intrigued whether I could walk for eight hours.
Why eight hours? It was a rather arbitrary choice, to be honest. I have slept for eight hours, I have worked for eight hours (no matter what my last employer tells you), I have played games (both computer and board) for eight hours.. so why not walk eight hours?
I wasn't after a distance. I merely wanted to walk for eight hours. I decided that if I ever stopped for any reason I would have to make that time up at the end. My route was semi planned. My parents live in Strathpine, so I would set out in that direction down South Pine Road (I live in the centre of the city), if I made it that far then I would continue towards Redcliffe and a house I used to live in over a decade ago. The final destination didn't matter it merely gave me something to aim for. I am not hugely fit but I do a fair bit of walking so I was confidant I wouldn't die.
I did some research and confirmed that the average human walking speed is 5 km an hour. Distance to Strathpine from my house is 26 km... I thought I would at least make it that far. My ex-house in Redcliffe is 47 km away from where I live... I doubted I would get that far in eight hours.
I had been watching the weather over the last few days and it seemed that Valentine's Day was going to be ideal for this little jaunt. When I woke up that morning it was over-cast and cool and I knew the time for the March was nigh.
I had a backpack ready to go. It had a 2L bottle of water and 2x 600ml of water (frozen), 4x 375ml pepsi max cans (for caffeine support), a bag of mixed lollies, a bag of pistachio nuts (I am crazy for pistachio nuts). In the backpack was also a SFX magazine, iPod, sunscreen, spare shirt, spare socks, many thick band-aids, mobile phone, some writing paper and pens. All up the pack weighed about 6kg. I was going to take a camera to document the journey but the battery charger had failed in the night and I decided to push on without it. I strapped my heels with band-aids and armoured myself in my beloved black boots.
With a jaunty wave and a "I am going out for a walk. I may be some time" to GirlClumsy I headed out into the world. That was at 10:20am.
Every hour I would take out my pen and paper and document where I was and how I was feeling at the time. I have reproduced what I wrote below.
11:21am - Cnr South Pine Rd and Farrington St, Alderley - Feel fine but wet (yay rain)
12:19pm - Cnr Old Northern Rd and Chinook St, suburb unknown (Rode Rd overpass) - Still fine. I have driven this road many times but I respect the distance now. Enjoying the change in houses as I head out of the city into the burbs.
1:22pm - Cnr South Pine Road (again! sneaky road) and Bunya Park Drive, Brendale. Have officially entered Pine Rivers. Bastard bastarding hills. Rolling hills you don't even notice in a car. Bastards. Right thigh starting to ache. Blister forming on left foot little toe.
2:21pm - Cnr Lavarack Rd and Samsonvale Rd, Bray Park. Blisters are now becoming painful. Need to stop and protect my feet. Feeling slightly heat distressed for the first time. I have decided to stop and sit under a tree and replaster my feet and change socks. I will have a short break and then push on. All this time will have to be made up later. Want to walk to my parent's house nearby and rest there but I doubt I would leave again.
*In 4 hours I had walked approximately 26 km. I seemed to be making good time. It occured to me during the break that a marathon is 42.2km. I started wondering if I could make it that far. I also had a profound respect for people that run that distance in 2.5 hours!*
Set out again at 2:50pm
3:50pm - Cnr of Yebri St and Anzac Ave, Petrie (Ruth Whitfield Memorial Park). Right Hip starting to hurt. Feet not so bad. Lunch break did wonders. Had a sneaky pee behind a tree in Ms Whitfield's Park. Very yellow. Must drink more water. First time I have ever done that in my adult life... I am an anarchist.
4:50pm - Cnr Bray Rd and Anzac Ave, Kallangur. I hate Anzac Ave. Long long long looooooong road. Everything below the waist starting to complain. I officially name this trek Death March 2009.
5:52pm - Cnr Deception Bay Rd and Anzac Ave, REDCLIFFE!!! Officially have entered Redcliffe. Officially still on Anzac Ave. Officially f*cking angry at the non-ending bastard road Anzac Ave. Screw you Anzac Ave and your endless f*cking length. Was momentarily happy when I saw the Welcome to Redcliffe sign but then happiness was replaced with fear as I was swarmed by a billion hungry mosquitos that breed in the feted swamp that is Redcliffe. THIS IS WHY THE ORIGINAL COLONISTS LEFT THIS SHITE-HOLE FOR BRISBANE. I had to run from the swarm. hobble painfully... whatever. slight tunnel vision. thirsty.
16:50pm *I think I meant 6:50 or 18:50.. Mr Brain was not happy by this time* Klingner Rd across from Macfarlane Park, Redcliffe. Death March 2009 over. Limping heavily, right foot very sore inside the foot. tunnel vision worse, all water gone. GC is coming to pick me up and bringing water. Sore right arm for some reason. Yelled at by twice by passing cars on the final stretch. Huzzah for Redcliffe. You win the Bogan Prize.
---
When GirlClumsy arrived she told me that I looked like a injured dog as I limped to the car. She reset the travel odometer in the car and traced my route in reverse. In eight hours I had walked 40km exactly. For accuracy sake I am going to say that is 40 km (plus or minus 0.5 km). I was very annoyed that I had not gone the full marathon. GirlClumsy was very amused how annoyed I was at myself for not making it to 42.2km.
I had proved very nicely the 5km average walking speed. My speed for the first half of the walk was just under 6 km an hour and then it decreased to its lowest point of 4.5 km per hour at the end.
So, what have I learned from all this madness? 40km is a long way to walk. My heavy boots, though excellent, might have been a little too heavy for this. I get angry when I get tired. When I get angry I don't feel pain and I speed up. Unlike my trek through the High Atlas Mountains, Morocco in 2006 this didn't push me to the limits of my endurance. It was painful but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I also saw why population centres are where they are. They are all separated by the distance that a person could walk or ride in under a day. It seems pretty damn obvious when you walk the distance and not just fly by in a car.
Most importantly I learned that I am fitter than I thought I was but not as fit as I would like to be.
Am I glad I did Death March 2009? - Yes. I am happy I could plan it, implement and have the guts and testicular fortitude to finish what I started.
Will I be doing Death Mark 2010? - HELL, NO!
*Death March 2009 - Aftermath* Today I awoke and the limping has gone from bad to worse. My right foot is very sore inside. I suspect I have pulled a muscle in my foot. My right hip is extremely sore. When I try to stand straight it feels like my right leg is about 5 cm taller then my left. It must be from the swelling. Neurofen and my own mutant healing factor will fix it right up lickity-split. Muscles in the legs feel fine. Very deep blister on my right foot at the back. Right elbow is sore for no apparent reason. In fact, the right hand side of my body seems to have taken the brunt of the damage. So much for the left hand side being the sinister side. I have the oddest chaff marks right across my body from my clothes. They are numerous but not in the places you would think you would have them*
So began what became to be known as Death-March 2009.
To be honest it had nothing to do with GC really. I had been waiting for the right weather (cloudy, raining and cool) to attempt the eight hour walk.
Why would I want to walk for eight hours? Well, I know many people who seem to be doing interesting things such as blogs, webcomics, giving birth and raising maggots. The internet gives a thin veneer of legitimacy for any cockamamie idea you might have.
The idea had been percolating through my skull for a few weeks. I like to walk. I walk quickly and with purpose. People who know me know that I hate aimless rambling. I don't really care in what direction I go in as long as it purposeful walking. I have always been fascinated with the stories about women having to walk 20 km a day to collect water for their families or armies having to march vast distances before squaring up with a less tired force. Most of us in Australia today live rather sedentary lives. I was intrigued whether I could walk for eight hours.
Why eight hours? It was a rather arbitrary choice, to be honest. I have slept for eight hours, I have worked for eight hours (no matter what my last employer tells you), I have played games (both computer and board) for eight hours.. so why not walk eight hours?
I wasn't after a distance. I merely wanted to walk for eight hours. I decided that if I ever stopped for any reason I would have to make that time up at the end. My route was semi planned. My parents live in Strathpine, so I would set out in that direction down South Pine Road (I live in the centre of the city), if I made it that far then I would continue towards Redcliffe and a house I used to live in over a decade ago. The final destination didn't matter it merely gave me something to aim for. I am not hugely fit but I do a fair bit of walking so I was confidant I wouldn't die.
I did some research and confirmed that the average human walking speed is 5 km an hour. Distance to Strathpine from my house is 26 km... I thought I would at least make it that far. My ex-house in Redcliffe is 47 km away from where I live... I doubted I would get that far in eight hours.
I had been watching the weather over the last few days and it seemed that Valentine's Day was going to be ideal for this little jaunt. When I woke up that morning it was over-cast and cool and I knew the time for the March was nigh.
I had a backpack ready to go. It had a 2L bottle of water and 2x 600ml of water (frozen), 4x 375ml pepsi max cans (for caffeine support), a bag of mixed lollies, a bag of pistachio nuts (I am crazy for pistachio nuts). In the backpack was also a SFX magazine, iPod, sunscreen, spare shirt, spare socks, many thick band-aids, mobile phone, some writing paper and pens. All up the pack weighed about 6kg. I was going to take a camera to document the journey but the battery charger had failed in the night and I decided to push on without it. I strapped my heels with band-aids and armoured myself in my beloved black boots.
With a jaunty wave and a "I am going out for a walk. I may be some time" to GirlClumsy I headed out into the world. That was at 10:20am.
Every hour I would take out my pen and paper and document where I was and how I was feeling at the time. I have reproduced what I wrote below.
11:21am - Cnr South Pine Rd and Farrington St, Alderley - Feel fine but wet (yay rain)
12:19pm - Cnr Old Northern Rd and Chinook St, suburb unknown (Rode Rd overpass) - Still fine. I have driven this road many times but I respect the distance now. Enjoying the change in houses as I head out of the city into the burbs.
1:22pm - Cnr South Pine Road (again! sneaky road) and Bunya Park Drive, Brendale. Have officially entered Pine Rivers. Bastard bastarding hills. Rolling hills you don't even notice in a car. Bastards. Right thigh starting to ache. Blister forming on left foot little toe.
2:21pm - Cnr Lavarack Rd and Samsonvale Rd, Bray Park. Blisters are now becoming painful. Need to stop and protect my feet. Feeling slightly heat distressed for the first time. I have decided to stop and sit under a tree and replaster my feet and change socks. I will have a short break and then push on. All this time will have to be made up later. Want to walk to my parent's house nearby and rest there but I doubt I would leave again.
*In 4 hours I had walked approximately 26 km. I seemed to be making good time. It occured to me during the break that a marathon is 42.2km. I started wondering if I could make it that far. I also had a profound respect for people that run that distance in 2.5 hours!*
Set out again at 2:50pm
3:50pm - Cnr of Yebri St and Anzac Ave, Petrie (Ruth Whitfield Memorial Park). Right Hip starting to hurt. Feet not so bad. Lunch break did wonders. Had a sneaky pee behind a tree in Ms Whitfield's Park. Very yellow. Must drink more water. First time I have ever done that in my adult life... I am an anarchist.
4:50pm - Cnr Bray Rd and Anzac Ave, Kallangur. I hate Anzac Ave. Long long long looooooong road. Everything below the waist starting to complain. I officially name this trek Death March 2009.
5:52pm - Cnr Deception Bay Rd and Anzac Ave, REDCLIFFE!!! Officially have entered Redcliffe. Officially still on Anzac Ave. Officially f*cking angry at the non-ending bastard road Anzac Ave. Screw you Anzac Ave and your endless f*cking length. Was momentarily happy when I saw the Welcome to Redcliffe sign but then happiness was replaced with fear as I was swarmed by a billion hungry mosquitos that breed in the feted swamp that is Redcliffe. THIS IS WHY THE ORIGINAL COLONISTS LEFT THIS SHITE-HOLE FOR BRISBANE. I had to run from the swarm. hobble painfully... whatever. slight tunnel vision. thirsty.
16:50pm *I think I meant 6:50 or 18:50.. Mr Brain was not happy by this time* Klingner Rd across from Macfarlane Park, Redcliffe. Death March 2009 over. Limping heavily, right foot very sore inside the foot. tunnel vision worse, all water gone. GC is coming to pick me up and bringing water. Sore right arm for some reason. Yelled at by twice by passing cars on the final stretch. Huzzah for Redcliffe. You win the Bogan Prize.
---
When GirlClumsy arrived she told me that I looked like a injured dog as I limped to the car. She reset the travel odometer in the car and traced my route in reverse. In eight hours I had walked 40km exactly. For accuracy sake I am going to say that is 40 km (plus or minus 0.5 km). I was very annoyed that I had not gone the full marathon. GirlClumsy was very amused how annoyed I was at myself for not making it to 42.2km.
I had proved very nicely the 5km average walking speed. My speed for the first half of the walk was just under 6 km an hour and then it decreased to its lowest point of 4.5 km per hour at the end.
So, what have I learned from all this madness? 40km is a long way to walk. My heavy boots, though excellent, might have been a little too heavy for this. I get angry when I get tired. When I get angry I don't feel pain and I speed up. Unlike my trek through the High Atlas Mountains, Morocco in 2006 this didn't push me to the limits of my endurance. It was painful but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I also saw why population centres are where they are. They are all separated by the distance that a person could walk or ride in under a day. It seems pretty damn obvious when you walk the distance and not just fly by in a car.
Most importantly I learned that I am fitter than I thought I was but not as fit as I would like to be.
Am I glad I did Death March 2009? - Yes. I am happy I could plan it, implement and have the guts and testicular fortitude to finish what I started.
Will I be doing Death Mark 2010? - HELL, NO!
*Death March 2009 - Aftermath* Today I awoke and the limping has gone from bad to worse. My right foot is very sore inside. I suspect I have pulled a muscle in my foot. My right hip is extremely sore. When I try to stand straight it feels like my right leg is about 5 cm taller then my left. It must be from the swelling. Neurofen and my own mutant healing factor will fix it right up lickity-split. Muscles in the legs feel fine. Very deep blister on my right foot at the back. Right elbow is sore for no apparent reason. In fact, the right hand side of my body seems to have taken the brunt of the damage. So much for the left hand side being the sinister side. I have the oddest chaff marks right across my body from my clothes. They are numerous but not in the places you would think you would have them*
Monday, February 02, 2009
Thus begins the autopsy...
Cleanup required in the Operating Theatre!The first series (more on that later) of the fully improvised play "Prognosis : Death!" has come to a close at the Brisbane Arts Theatre. The doctors and nurses of St Love have hung up their scrubs. Though I was aware of the potential of this production I am blown away at how popular the show became in its short six episode run. On the last night we had 95 people in the audience. Over the series we averaged 66 people per night. Every night more and more people came to see the show. Many were repeat audience members who came back to see if we were telling truth that each show was fully unscripted and made up on the spot based on their suggestions (We were and It was). It was a great experience to be a part of this show and its goes to prove the power and popularity of Theatre/Impro hybrid concepts. I think Impro Mafia will be looking more into this style of show in the future.
The sexy staff of St Love HospitalIf you missed any of the last three episodes a brief synopsis of each is below.
Episode 4 - "St Love and the Blizzard of Dreams"
A terrible snowstorm had trapped all the staff of St Love inside the hospital. The last person to make it to work was Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) who had slept in that morning by mistake as she had been plagued with terrible dreams the night before. Before long weird and inexplicable events were happening in the hospital. Strange, otherworldy figures were seen stalking the halls of St Love as the staff's deepest dreams started coming true! Medical Superintendent Harold Dean finally fired Dr Mangold, Nurse Buble finally consummated her relationship with Dr Mangold and Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) finally took the coveted position of "Best Damn Surgeon at St Love" from Dr Mangold. In fact, the only person who wasn't enjoying himself was Dr Burton Mangold (except for the consummation bit). He had lost a young boy patient, Bobby, to "The Sickness" (Symptoms of "The Sickness" include loss of use of legs, coughing and projectile vomiting of blood over nearby doctors) and started to realise that people's dreams and nightmares were coming true. Dr Mangold quickly worked out he needed to find the solution in his own dreams. After being shagged to sleep by Nurse Buble and helped along by punches to the face by Medical Superintendent Harold Dean, Dr Mangold entered The Dreamscape. After nearly being sexually molested by a dream ape (in song no less) Dr Mangold found out how to save the day from the dream version of Bobby. Everything was back to normal... except at that moment Dr Melody Carmichael WOKE UP! It had all been a terrible nightmare and everything was back to normal... except at that moment Dr Ludwig LeStrange WOKE UP! It had all been a terrible dream of a woman dreaming a terrible dream about the staff falling prey to terrible dreams... freaky!
Episode 5 - "St Love and the Fourth Reich"
1944 - Germany - The Black Forest. Two Nazi Officers built a time machine using the Equations of Einstein and Blood Magic. They hurled themselves into the future to make sure the Nazi Reich would rule the world forever.
Present Day - St Love. The Nazis infiltrated St Love Hospital killing off the staff members and taking their place. They even managed to replace Medical Superintendent Howard Dean (Harold Dean's identical twin brother) with an evil Nazi Doppelganger! The Nazi's hid their evil nazi plans by convincing the staff it was time for Oktoberfest. Dr Mangold and Nurse Buble became suspicious especially of their new Lutheran priest Jeremy Von Thistlewaite. Soon, however, their suspicion was proven to be miss placed as lutheran priest was slain by the real master of the Nazi's.. Dr Ludwig LeStrange. Le Strange had travelled to the future many years ago to create the Fourth Reich using the blood of a virgin. Le Strange captured the lovely Nurse Buble and the Rise of the Fourth Reich seemed assured until Dr Mangold arrived and pointed out that thanks to him Nurse Buble was not a virgin! Thwarted, Le Strange used the only other virgin blood he had close by... his own. Fortunately the blood needed to be female for the time portal magic to work properly. The two hench-Nazis were thrown back in time to 1944, England, where they were shot but Dr Mangold's grandfather BlackSmith Mangold. Dr Le Strange was also caught in the time vortex and thrown back 70 million years. He made friends with the dinosaurs and taught Tyrannosaurus Rex how to use their stumpy little hands. Once again the hospital was saved.
Episode 6 - "St Love and the Morningstar"
Episode 4 - "St Love and the Blizzard of Dreams"
A terrible snowstorm had trapped all the staff of St Love inside the hospital. The last person to make it to work was Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) who had slept in that morning by mistake as she had been plagued with terrible dreams the night before. Before long weird and inexplicable events were happening in the hospital. Strange, otherworldy figures were seen stalking the halls of St Love as the staff's deepest dreams started coming true! Medical Superintendent Harold Dean finally fired Dr Mangold, Nurse Buble finally consummated her relationship with Dr Mangold and Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) finally took the coveted position of "Best Damn Surgeon at St Love" from Dr Mangold. In fact, the only person who wasn't enjoying himself was Dr Burton Mangold (except for the consummation bit). He had lost a young boy patient, Bobby, to "The Sickness" (Symptoms of "The Sickness" include loss of use of legs, coughing and projectile vomiting of blood over nearby doctors) and started to realise that people's dreams and nightmares were coming true. Dr Mangold quickly worked out he needed to find the solution in his own dreams. After being shagged to sleep by Nurse Buble and helped along by punches to the face by Medical Superintendent Harold Dean, Dr Mangold entered The Dreamscape. After nearly being sexually molested by a dream ape (in song no less) Dr Mangold found out how to save the day from the dream version of Bobby. Everything was back to normal... except at that moment Dr Melody Carmichael WOKE UP! It had all been a terrible nightmare and everything was back to normal... except at that moment Dr Ludwig LeStrange WOKE UP! It had all been a terrible dream of a woman dreaming a terrible dream about the staff falling prey to terrible dreams... freaky!
Episode 5 - "St Love and the Fourth Reich"
1944 - Germany - The Black Forest. Two Nazi Officers built a time machine using the Equations of Einstein and Blood Magic. They hurled themselves into the future to make sure the Nazi Reich would rule the world forever.
Present Day - St Love. The Nazis infiltrated St Love Hospital killing off the staff members and taking their place. They even managed to replace Medical Superintendent Howard Dean (Harold Dean's identical twin brother) with an evil Nazi Doppelganger! The Nazi's hid their evil nazi plans by convincing the staff it was time for Oktoberfest. Dr Mangold and Nurse Buble became suspicious especially of their new Lutheran priest Jeremy Von Thistlewaite. Soon, however, their suspicion was proven to be miss placed as lutheran priest was slain by the real master of the Nazi's.. Dr Ludwig LeStrange. Le Strange had travelled to the future many years ago to create the Fourth Reich using the blood of a virgin. Le Strange captured the lovely Nurse Buble and the Rise of the Fourth Reich seemed assured until Dr Mangold arrived and pointed out that thanks to him Nurse Buble was not a virgin! Thwarted, Le Strange used the only other virgin blood he had close by... his own. Fortunately the blood needed to be female for the time portal magic to work properly. The two hench-Nazis were thrown back in time to 1944, England, where they were shot but Dr Mangold's grandfather BlackSmith Mangold. Dr Le Strange was also caught in the time vortex and thrown back 70 million years. He made friends with the dinosaurs and taught Tyrannosaurus Rex how to use their stumpy little hands. Once again the hospital was saved.
Episode 6 - "St Love and the Morningstar"
Dr Burton Mangold was "The Best Damn Surgeon" at St Love Hospital until the arrival of his best friend/worst enemy Dr Rik Cocksteady. Cocksteady could do everything Mangold could do but better. He was richer, sexier and a better lover and doctor too! Soon he had replaced at Mangold in everything at St Love Hospital. Dr Mangold left the hospital in disgrace. Meanwhile, the new preacher Presbyterian Minister Jeremy McThistlewaite had noticed strange and unsettling things in the hospital. The Baptismal font had turned to blood. The staff were being tempted to perform acts of lust and gluttony. Even the cafeteria coffee had turned to blood! McThistlewaite new this was the work of Satan (The Morningstar) ... read your bible! He also thought he knew who Satan was working through... the Nazi from last episode Dr Ludwig Le Strange!. Taking matters into his own hands he slew Le Strange. Unfortunately the occult occurrences continued and McThistlewaite went insane realising he had committed the sin of Wrath! Outside the hospital Dr Burton Mangold was drinking himself into an early grave when he was visited by a hard drinking, hard fighting, hard singing (in a manly way), archangel called Gabe. Gabe restored Mangold's faith in himself using song and Mangold returned to the hospital to face Satan. Back at the hospital Dr Rik Cocksteady botched a lobotomy on McThistlewaite, killing him. Cocksteady realised he had fallen to the sin of Pride. Dr Burton Mangold returned to the hospital and revealed Satan to be (not Medical Superintendent Harold Dean) none other than Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern). Melody's Satanic power was too strong however and she would have taken over the world but for one thing. Dr Mangold and Nurse Buble admitted their love for each other. This tender moment brought the attention of God to the scene who, as the Prince of Peace, enchanted the bullets in Mangold's gun. Together, Dr Burton Mangold and Dr Rik Cocksteady shot Satan multiple times in the head.
Even with everything back to normal there was still time for one last plot twist. As the lights started to fade Dr Burton Mangold fell to one knee and asked Nurse Lottie Buble to marry him! No answer was heard...
What will happen next series of "Prognosis : Death!"? Will Nurse Lottie Buble marry Dr Burton Mangold? Will Reverend Jeremy Thistlewaite ever find true faith?? Will Dr Ludwig Le Strange ever feel the tough of a woman? Will Medical Superintendent Harold Dean ever manage to beat Dr Mangold? Will people ever stop calling Dr Melody Carmichael (Intern) "Nurse Carmichael"?
Will there ever be a series two? The answer to that is a definite maybe! ImproMafia is in negotiations with the Brisbane Arts Theatre to bring the show back later in the year. We hope to have series two in July. If you have suggestion for the show feel free to drop me a line.
As I have had said before (ad nauseum!) "Prognosis : Death!" has been a wonderful experience. Impro Mafia is dedicated to exploring this style of show further. Keep an eye on the ImproMafia website for show details. Also, If you are interested in the musical aspect of the show have a squiz at the musing of our excellent musician Kris at his website www.musicalhotspot.com
My God! A picture of me I do not hateTuesday, January 27, 2009
Prognosis : Success!
If you live in Brisbane, hopefully you have heard about the success of Impro Mafia's latest production "Prognosis : Death!". This show is a fully improvised play where the audience comes up with the nature of the threat that threatens the town of St Love. It is 'Scrubs' mashed with the 'X-Files'. Each performance is a fully contained episode of 'Prognosis : Death!' but some show cross over occurs to reward the audience members who have come to more than one performance. A a fast paced, comedy full of adults themes, invasive medical procedures, supernatural shenanigans, buckets of blood and simmering sexual tension!
It has been described in reviews as similar to "Let the Blood Run Free" (if you are an older audience member) or "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace" (If you are one of the beautiful young things)
The show has had excellent audiences for its first three perfomances (average of 50+ a night).
The cast above (left to right) - David as Dr Burton Mangold, Natalie as Nurse Lottie Buble, Luke as Medical Superintendent Harold Dean, Michael as The Mummy Amon-Ra, Wade as Reverend Jeremy Thistlewaite, our excellent musician Kris, Dan as Dr Ludwig LeStrange and Amy as Dr Melody Carmicheal (Intern).
The recap of each show should whet your appetite for our last few performances!
Episode 1 - "St Love and the Itty Bitty Vampire Kitty Committee"
St Love Hospital fell under the dark power of a Vampire Kitten! The Kitten had been buried in the Indian Burial Ground Pet Cemetery and had clawed its way back to the land of the living looking for blood!. Many of the staff at St Love Hospital fell to its lolcat claws, forever transformed into Vampire Kitties! Reverend Thistlewaite rediscovered his lost faith just in time to smite the vampire kittens with his very heavy bible.
Episode 2 - "St Love and the Portrait of Madness"
Medical Superintendent Harold Dean was desperate for funds for his hospital so he ordered a Hospital Jumble Sale. Little did he know that the local crime boss "Glasses McGee" has hidden a 500 year old possessed painting in the basement. The Crime boss was scared that the local superhero "The Leggy Avenger" would reclaim his booty. Little did he realise that The Leggy Avenger was none other than St Love's Nurse Lottie Buble! Harold Dean was driven mad by the possessed painting - killing off the staff of St Love one by one. Egged on by the possessed painting Medical Superintendent Harold Dean almost killed all the staff but finally he, and the painting, were stopped by the powerful crotch kicks of The Leggy Avenger and her new sidekick Footsie!
Episode 3 - "St Love and the Curse of Osiris"
Dr Ludwig LeStrange, taking a sabbatical from the hospital to pursue his hobby of archaeology, accidentally disturbed the remains of a 5000 year old Mummy by removing its brain and taking it back to St Love Hospital. As fate would have it he had to use the brain in a transplant to save his old sidekick "Minky". With the brain of the Pharaoh Amon-Ra and the youthful body of Minky the Mummy went looking for a living bride. A Plague of Chicken (singular) and a Plague of Blood (most definitely plural!) were visited on St Love Hospital. The Mummy slaughtered his way through the hospital but it did finally find a bride, Dr Melody Carmichael!. The young Melody was quite smitten by her exotic new husband but was disturbed to discover he had no genitals due to a tragic lion related accident thousands of year ago. The Mummy and his bride were content to leave the hospital in peace forever but they were bravely smote by Dr Burton Mangold and his anti-eczema Sorbelene cream.
Remember, all story suggestions are taken from the audience. The entire hour long performance is 'off the cuff' and unscripted.
What will happen in the next episode of "Prognosis : Death!"?
You will have to come to the Brisbane Arts Theatre to find out!
Running Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays
January 22 to 31.
8pm
Special low price! $15 adults/$10 concessions.
Bookings: 3369 2344
210 Petrie Terrace, Brisbane
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