Utegate, as told by LOLCATS - now with Monday's opinyun pollz including the Austrayan online Liberal leadership pollz

The LOLZ, they are now coming to you 24/7 on http://dailylolz.lolpolz.com/ - watch as we turn the whole coming early elecshun into lolz. Not to be used for educational purposes. Must be taken as gold bullion in Queensland.

Original post still below:

Kevin:

Malcolm:

Journalists:

Turnbull:

Journalists::

Malcolm:

KRudd:

Malcolm:

Stevie baby:

Federal Poleece:

Godwin:

KRudd:

Malcolm:

Swan:

Godwin:

Kerry O'Brien:

Later on the 7.30 report...

Red Kerry (Vulpes Kerrius):




KRudd:




Red Kerry:




KRudd:

Red Kerry:

KRudd:



Red Kerry:


Malcolm:



Red Kerry:

Malcolm:



Malcolm:



Red Kerry:

Malcolm:

The next day in Parlyment:

Malcolm:

Swan:

The Liberal front bench:

Teh Speaker:

Malcolm:

KRudd:

Another Liberal frontbencher:

Teh Speaker:

The Liberal front bench except for Malcolm:

Annabelle Crabb:

Later, on Lateline with Foxy Tony:

Tony Jones, aka the silver fox:


Sloppy Joe:



Tony the Silver Fox:


Sloppy Joe:


Tony the Fox:


Sloppy Joe:

In the days that follow, other members chip in with their two cents:

Tony Abbott:

Anthony Albanese:

THIS JUST IN!

Secret Liberal source leaks informashun to the News Ltd papers that Malcolm & Erica Betz had seen the faux email and taken notes on it:

Liberal deepthroat:

Journalist kitteh takes notes:

Deepthroat doggeh reveals all:

Journalist kitteh publishes or perishes:

Dr Ken Henry, Treasury Secretary:



Monday morning
Liberal Party lackey:



Malcolm:


Liberal lackey:


Malcolm:






Liberal lackey:


Malcolm:

The rest of the Liberal Party:

AUSTRAYA VOTES JUNE 2009:
Esteemed News Ltd publicashun the Austrayan runs online poll on preferred Liberal Leader, and Austrayans contemplate the options:

Meanwhile, deep in the wilds of Higgins, a Costello staffer is hard at work:

Takes the poll results to the recently-announced-is-retiring Member for Higgins:

And Costello's reaction is to send a message to the Leader:

Meanwhile, in the Labor Party bunkeh:

More to come...

Wtff?

From the comments on the News Ltd story on Michael Jackson's death (don't aks, I was looking for utegate updates for the LOLutez post):

crying of Brisbane Posted at 2:37pm today
First 9/11 and now this. America is doing it tough right now. RIP Michael. You were a phenomenal human.

The dream I had last night

This morning while we were doing the Herald Sun quiz (and sadly, failing to be quizorrific), I suddenly remembered my dream from last night. It was not until just now, though, that I realised what it means.

In my dream, I was forced to go camping. For those who came in late, I don't do camping. Our ancestors fought and died so that we could have indoor plumbing, and as far as I'm concerned sleeping (or even eating) in the open air dishonours their memory.

Ahem.

Anyway, in the dream where I was being forced to go camping, I was trying to find a camp stove. Well, you try cooking *everything* over a camp fire - that's going to suck, even in a dream. And my PU#2 kept claiming the camping stove was in his wardrobe, but I couldn't find it. And I was wondering whether I could actually take a mattress with me...

So just now as I was reading something about houses on the interwebs, I realised that the dream was because I feel sort of de-homed, what with the parental-home-of-my-childhood not being parental any more. Symbolically, in my unconscious, I have to live in a tent because I don't have a family home now. Of course I haven't lived in the parental house since... well, a long time. And I have my own apartment and stuff. But dammit, that doesn't make it ok. A sentiment with which my unconcious obviously agrees.

The consolation of a Crackberry

So, it was the weekend AND the winter solstice, for which I totally planned to do something witchy* but instead just lay about in bed all day, with the laptop, and then got up and watched an episode of Dollhouse and the Miss Marple (they have a new Miss Marple - ALL WRONG) while eating the roast that Hugo cooked (beef).

But I needed the time in bed to recover from the fact that my parental units, with the parental KITTEHS and the parental doggeh Eric, are now living in a new house, and not the traditional home of the parental units, where I grew up. So, to console myself for this loss, I have decided to buy a Blackberry.

As any fule kno, the purpose of a Blackberry (known in the young people speak as a "crackberry") is to take photos of things you're eating (or are about to eat) and upload them straight to facebook. Given my non-existent sense of direction, the GPS may also be useful. Anyway, it turns out, when I read the fine-print of the corporate plan (le blahblah, as they called it on the French pre-paid sim card I bought) the minimum monthly spend if you want a free crackberry (and let's face it, who doesn't?) doesn't include the interweb access. Pah, I say to that. So doing my calcumalations, it turns out is cheaper to buy one outright on ebay and then just connect. So am currently doing that. And by "doing that", I mean obsessively hitting the refresh button to check I am still the highest bidder.

I am also somewhat tired. By the time we watched the new Miss Marple (who has clearly killed the real Miss Marple and buried her in the garden - NOW THERE'S A REAL MURDER MYSTERY) and Hugo cleaned up and walked the dog etc, it was way late. While aforesaid cleaning and walking of the canine were taking place I lay in bed reading one of the books I borrowed from the university library on British folklore. Specifically, the chapter on various different ways to summon up the Devil.

The book does not explain WHY you would want to summon the devil. Perhaps to sup with him using a long spoon? Or to challenge him to a duel where you both play fiddles**? Or to turn everything into an all-singing, all-dancing, Joss-Whedon-directed musical extravaganza? By the way, Dollhouse, still rocks in a non anti-feminist way. But I digress. Back to summoning the Devil. It seems there are various features of the British landscape and/or architecture and/or certain graves in certain graveyards that belong to the devil. And to summon him up, all you have to do is walk around them widdershins seven times, and lo, the Devil appears. At which stage presumably you can invite him to supper/challenge him to play the fiddle/ask him who does his eyebrows/request musical interludes.

Is it lunchtime yet?




*Like for example put a curse on the bastard from unit 1 who keeps stealing our weekend Herald Suns.
**I am personally of the opinion that the squeezebox is a far more Satanic instrument. And a solid gold squeezebox would be a sight to be seen.

Too slack for words

I must admit it has been a while since I blogged... this is partly because I am a slack bitch, and partly because I am busy (contradictory I know). But when you rule the world, it is hard to find time for idle diversions. Luckily I am now back at work. (ha ha joke).

Yesterday when I got back to work for the first time in a month I realised anew that my co-workers (at least the ones in my immediate team) are actually lovely and nice. They helped me with things (we have just moved to a new building where all is confusing and you have to program your swipe card to make the lift work...), they explained where the good coffee is, the expressed interest in my holiday photos, they went for coffee with me, people called me and said "thank god you're back", and etc. It was nice.

The new office is at the legal end of town. There are no cool grungy places to hang out, it's full of overly-shiny coffee shops which is turn are full of smug lawyers with fat Tory fingers. There is a coffee shop downstairs, however, that despite being slightly too shiny (and not in the Joss Whedon sense of the word) does have decent coffee, so I have been frequenting it. They seem to be charging me random amounts for my coffee, depending on the direction of the wind or something, which is a good sign as it may be predictive of cheaper coffee once I have charmed them with my charms (or my 'je ne sais quoi' as Steve called it today, since I've been in France).

Speaking of Joss, we have (thanks to the intertubes) (and the Seanaroony) more episodes of Dollhouse, and watched eps 6 & 7 last night. Truly it is fabulous. I just got totally distracted while I googled Dollhouse and found this fabulous article that explains everything I think about all the feminist anti-Dollhouse comments I've come across (I mean srsly, who would think Joss Whedon, of all people, was presenting the Dollhouse uncritically? Oh yeah, not at all problematic in terms of consent, and rape, and all that stuff - SRSLY!) and why it's the rockingest show on TV (or actually in Australia, not on TV, but still) at the moment. Anyway, Tiger Beatdown, I salute you. Also, I now subscribe to your RSS.

Also, I am now going home so as to spend some time with our furry menagerie (ooh, Hugo tells me yesterday in the park Casper made friends with another (very fat) pug called Rolly, and then we came up with the concept of a pugmepullyou, where two pugs' curly tails become entertwined and then you have a two-ended pug like the pushmepullyou in Dr Doolittle, and anyway apparently Casper and Rolly spent a long time licking each other's faces... so cute) (also, if we have a by-election thanks to Peter Costello retiring, I am totes making Casper a t-shirt that says Higgins Campaign Dogsbody on it and taking him everywhere the candidate goes. He is good for a 2% swing at least).

Right, on that note. I am off. (My PU#2 would say "you've been off for years" at this juncture, but luckily he only reads my blog v occasionally, owing to being busy covering over irrigation channels, moving house, and fixing all our electrical appliances).

Yet more photos!

Am too exhausted to write proper post (my parental unit is making good on her threat not to catch the metro and we walked 25,000 steps today), but here are some more photos. Enjoy!