Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I'M BACK!!! AGAIN......
Back with a vengeance!! And a camera!!
Well, I'm getting some of my energy back at least.
Still coughing like cat with a razor wire furball, but at least my abs have gotten a good work out.
After being sent home from work Monday last week, in fear of infecting the greater workforce in my building, I took the next two days off.
Tuesday's physio and hydro sessions were cancelled along with the visit to the my old home, the rehab hospital, to catch up with my old cellmate Damian.
Work on Wednesday was off the books as well and the only place I did visit was the local doctor to get a fully sick certificate for work.
She wasn't able to help much, but did insist on prescribing some antibiotics, to which I informed her that due to the amount of antibiotics I'd ingested during my hospital stay I had serious reservations about their effectiveness.
I did however make an appearance at trivia night and felt it was worthwhile as we won by two points and I did answer 3 questions that no one else knew the answer to.
Yay for my sick little brain coming up with the goods when it's really important!
After an alcohol soaked Friday night at 'the place that sell bad beer' I went home with a couple of mates and gave the record player a workout.
This was the first time I'd cut the rug since before my smash.
I did have a dance once before, but I was a full card carrying member of the C.R.A.F.T club ( can't remember a fucking thing ) that night, and it resulted in my redecorating the carpet in a nice tone of blood, stemming from a cut lip as I apparently faceplanted in the music room.
I must say I really enjoyed myself and even with some alcoholically impaired co-ordination I managed to stay upright this time.
I didn't throw up in the laundry trough or my bedroom floor this time either, unlike one of my mates who for all intents and purposes sounded pretty much what I would imagine Cerberus, the 3 headed hell hound that guards hell, must sound like when in full flight.
Saturday morning was a very exciting time for me.
I'd had two cameras slip out of my grasp on ebay, due to my being completely ebay challenged.
This time however things were different and the item I was bidding on attracted no other bidders, so ebay nil, me 1!!!!!
My latest pride and joy is a second hand Hasselblad 500c, or the Hasselhoff as I prefer to call it.
It is the business end of photography equipment and was good enough to be used on the lunar landings.
The 'Hoff came with a spare film back, lens hood and two rolls of film for a steal of $800!!!
The remainder of my budget can now be used to purchase another lens.
I have no freaking idea how to use it yet, but that will be a learning curve I'm very much looking forward to.
Already, the square frame format has me looking at photo composition in a completely different way.
Sunday it was my turn to host the 'Roast Off'.
The Roast Off is a competitive roast that is held every two weeks at six different households in the greater Brunswick area.
My sis, another feller and I ran this a few years ago ( before the glory of Iron Chef graced our tv screens ) and it was a hell of a lot of fun.
Basic concept is that the competition revolves around the roast.
What you roast and what you serve with it is irrelevant, as long as the main feature piece is roasted.
Two weeks ago at the inaugural heat of Roast Off II, I accused the host Richard of cheating as he was getting help form Bec, who is quite handy with a kitchen. ( By help I mean she did practically everything! )
I do believe I likened the episode to the culinary equivalent of cyclists blood doping in le Tour de France.
And so the pressure was on to come up with something that would justify my supposed sledging.
I wanted to steer clear of the usual beef, chicken and lamb and wanted something more exotic.
Roadkill kangaroo was on the cards as it's free and already tenderised, however fresh roadkill is not in abundance in suburban Melbourne and I wasn't prepared to scour the countryside for the suitable / unfortunate fauna.
I did consider some old leather saddle bags, but I don't believe I am adept enough in the culinary arts to pull that one off.
Next on the cards was the prehistoric, but the snag I ran into here was that crocodile, goanna and snake are as rare as cats in Footscray. ( a Melbourne suburb with a large asian population )
Ooh, I do believe that is metabigotry!!
I finally settled on Barramundi, because it is in fact a very prehistoric kind of fish.
Ugly little bugger too.
So here is MY OWN experimental recipe for Barra with bush stuffing:
Get yerself a fresh ( not frozen ) Barra, stuff the inside of it with fresh cut up mountain pepper leaves, crushed macadamia nuts, a couple of slices of butter, crushed garlic and some peeled sunrise limes.
Pop an unpeeled sunrise lime in the Barra's mouth for visuals, rub the fish down with olive oil and roast the hell out of it in a hot oven, until you can easily push a wooden skewer into it without resistance.
Now a roast wouldn't be complete without some vegies, so I grated up some pink eye potatoes, sweet potato and butternut pumpkin, threw in some crushed garlic, salt and pepper along with carraway seeds, made them into little balls / patties and deep fried them to within an inch of their little vegetable lives.
Must thank Annemarie for helping with the peeling of the finnicky limes and the cooking of the vegie balls, couldn't have done it without ya!
End result was a very tasty prehistoric animal with a native / bush flavour.
As one of the connoisseurs pointed out "The vegies were grate!"
Boom Boom!!!!
Desert came courtesy of Bec, thanks mate :) in the form of some delicious cup cakes with lemon and coconut soft icing which she'd prepared earlier, matched with some strawberries I'd purchased from the shop four doors down.
Tasty!!!!!!
I have been getting the run around from the TAC ( the mob that funds my recovery ) in regards to funding for the psychologist.
Usual bureaucratic bullshit, which unfortunately has thrown a spanner in the works.
Hopefully get that sorted out soon, though as I don't fancy having to pay for it myself, especially considering my need for it is a direct result of the smash.
I've also been talking to the Alfred Hospital trauma centre in regards to arranging a review with the plastic surgeon about replacing the the migratory calf muscle back into it's rightful position.
They don't rush things in the country, and neither do they in the public hospital system it would appear.
As soon as I can get the review then the next surgery to remove most of my internal titanium and stainless steel scaffolding can be scheduled.
I was told that if I don't hear from them in two weeks I should contact them again.
You can bet yer sweet butt I will be ringing them every few days just to annoy them, in order to get this bloody operation out of the way as soon as possible.
I picked the camera up yesterday at a pre agreed location, corner of Church and Victoria streets in Abbotsford / Richmond, an area where amongst some very fine vietnamese cuisine one can also purchase various illicit drugs rather easily.
As I trammed my way down there I gave her a call to confirm our meeting, at which point she asked me what I was wearing.
I felt this was rather forward of the girl as she'd never even met me, until she pointed out that she needed to identify me upon arrival.
I got to the location and sat on the bench to kill some time with my tram book.
It must have looked pretty dodgy when the girl turned up with an alluminium case and plonked it down on the bench next to my backpack.
After unlocking the case and opening it, the merchandise was offered for inspection.
It all seemed in good condition and I produced a plain envelope containing the $800 dollars in unmarked $50 bills.
"I think you'll find it's all in order." I said as I handed the cash over.
After counting, the girl gave a satisfied smile and I closed the case.
To anyone walking past, it must have looked like a regular occurrence in the area and we completed our transaction without incident.
After asking her why she was selling such a fine piece of equipment I was informed that she was 'going digital' due to the cost of film and processing.
I offered her some advice in this field as I do know a little about it and gave a her play with my digital SLR.
We parted company and the 'Hoff now lives at Clarence Street.
Woo hoo!!!
All I have to do now is learn how the damned thing works.
.
Well, I'm getting some of my energy back at least.
Still coughing like cat with a razor wire furball, but at least my abs have gotten a good work out.
After being sent home from work Monday last week, in fear of infecting the greater workforce in my building, I took the next two days off.
Tuesday's physio and hydro sessions were cancelled along with the visit to the my old home, the rehab hospital, to catch up with my old cellmate Damian.
Work on Wednesday was off the books as well and the only place I did visit was the local doctor to get a fully sick certificate for work.
She wasn't able to help much, but did insist on prescribing some antibiotics, to which I informed her that due to the amount of antibiotics I'd ingested during my hospital stay I had serious reservations about their effectiveness.
I did however make an appearance at trivia night and felt it was worthwhile as we won by two points and I did answer 3 questions that no one else knew the answer to.
Yay for my sick little brain coming up with the goods when it's really important!
After an alcohol soaked Friday night at 'the place that sell bad beer' I went home with a couple of mates and gave the record player a workout.
This was the first time I'd cut the rug since before my smash.
I did have a dance once before, but I was a full card carrying member of the C.R.A.F.T club ( can't remember a fucking thing ) that night, and it resulted in my redecorating the carpet in a nice tone of blood, stemming from a cut lip as I apparently faceplanted in the music room.
I must say I really enjoyed myself and even with some alcoholically impaired co-ordination I managed to stay upright this time.
I didn't throw up in the laundry trough or my bedroom floor this time either, unlike one of my mates who for all intents and purposes sounded pretty much what I would imagine Cerberus, the 3 headed hell hound that guards hell, must sound like when in full flight.
Saturday morning was a very exciting time for me.
I'd had two cameras slip out of my grasp on ebay, due to my being completely ebay challenged.
This time however things were different and the item I was bidding on attracted no other bidders, so ebay nil, me 1!!!!!
My latest pride and joy is a second hand Hasselblad 500c, or the Hasselhoff as I prefer to call it.
It is the business end of photography equipment and was good enough to be used on the lunar landings.
The 'Hoff came with a spare film back, lens hood and two rolls of film for a steal of $800!!!
The remainder of my budget can now be used to purchase another lens.
I have no freaking idea how to use it yet, but that will be a learning curve I'm very much looking forward to.
Already, the square frame format has me looking at photo composition in a completely different way.
Sunday it was my turn to host the 'Roast Off'.
The Roast Off is a competitive roast that is held every two weeks at six different households in the greater Brunswick area.
My sis, another feller and I ran this a few years ago ( before the glory of Iron Chef graced our tv screens ) and it was a hell of a lot of fun.
Basic concept is that the competition revolves around the roast.
What you roast and what you serve with it is irrelevant, as long as the main feature piece is roasted.
Two weeks ago at the inaugural heat of Roast Off II, I accused the host Richard of cheating as he was getting help form Bec, who is quite handy with a kitchen. ( By help I mean she did practically everything! )
I do believe I likened the episode to the culinary equivalent of cyclists blood doping in le Tour de France.
And so the pressure was on to come up with something that would justify my supposed sledging.
I wanted to steer clear of the usual beef, chicken and lamb and wanted something more exotic.
Roadkill kangaroo was on the cards as it's free and already tenderised, however fresh roadkill is not in abundance in suburban Melbourne and I wasn't prepared to scour the countryside for the suitable / unfortunate fauna.
I did consider some old leather saddle bags, but I don't believe I am adept enough in the culinary arts to pull that one off.
Next on the cards was the prehistoric, but the snag I ran into here was that crocodile, goanna and snake are as rare as cats in Footscray. ( a Melbourne suburb with a large asian population )
Ooh, I do believe that is metabigotry!!
I finally settled on Barramundi, because it is in fact a very prehistoric kind of fish.
Ugly little bugger too.
So here is MY OWN experimental recipe for Barra with bush stuffing:
Get yerself a fresh ( not frozen ) Barra, stuff the inside of it with fresh cut up mountain pepper leaves, crushed macadamia nuts, a couple of slices of butter, crushed garlic and some peeled sunrise limes.
Pop an unpeeled sunrise lime in the Barra's mouth for visuals, rub the fish down with olive oil and roast the hell out of it in a hot oven, until you can easily push a wooden skewer into it without resistance.
Now a roast wouldn't be complete without some vegies, so I grated up some pink eye potatoes, sweet potato and butternut pumpkin, threw in some crushed garlic, salt and pepper along with carraway seeds, made them into little balls / patties and deep fried them to within an inch of their little vegetable lives.
Must thank Annemarie for helping with the peeling of the finnicky limes and the cooking of the vegie balls, couldn't have done it without ya!
End result was a very tasty prehistoric animal with a native / bush flavour.
As one of the connoisseurs pointed out "The vegies were grate!"
Boom Boom!!!!
Desert came courtesy of Bec, thanks mate :) in the form of some delicious cup cakes with lemon and coconut soft icing which she'd prepared earlier, matched with some strawberries I'd purchased from the shop four doors down.
Tasty!!!!!!
I have been getting the run around from the TAC ( the mob that funds my recovery ) in regards to funding for the psychologist.
Usual bureaucratic bullshit, which unfortunately has thrown a spanner in the works.
Hopefully get that sorted out soon, though as I don't fancy having to pay for it myself, especially considering my need for it is a direct result of the smash.
I've also been talking to the Alfred Hospital trauma centre in regards to arranging a review with the plastic surgeon about replacing the the migratory calf muscle back into it's rightful position.
They don't rush things in the country, and neither do they in the public hospital system it would appear.
As soon as I can get the review then the next surgery to remove most of my internal titanium and stainless steel scaffolding can be scheduled.
I was told that if I don't hear from them in two weeks I should contact them again.
You can bet yer sweet butt I will be ringing them every few days just to annoy them, in order to get this bloody operation out of the way as soon as possible.
I picked the camera up yesterday at a pre agreed location, corner of Church and Victoria streets in Abbotsford / Richmond, an area where amongst some very fine vietnamese cuisine one can also purchase various illicit drugs rather easily.
As I trammed my way down there I gave her a call to confirm our meeting, at which point she asked me what I was wearing.
I felt this was rather forward of the girl as she'd never even met me, until she pointed out that she needed to identify me upon arrival.
I got to the location and sat on the bench to kill some time with my tram book.
It must have looked pretty dodgy when the girl turned up with an alluminium case and plonked it down on the bench next to my backpack.
After unlocking the case and opening it, the merchandise was offered for inspection.
It all seemed in good condition and I produced a plain envelope containing the $800 dollars in unmarked $50 bills.
"I think you'll find it's all in order." I said as I handed the cash over.
After counting, the girl gave a satisfied smile and I closed the case.
To anyone walking past, it must have looked like a regular occurrence in the area and we completed our transaction without incident.
After asking her why she was selling such a fine piece of equipment I was informed that she was 'going digital' due to the cost of film and processing.
I offered her some advice in this field as I do know a little about it and gave a her play with my digital SLR.
We parted company and the 'Hoff now lives at Clarence Street.
Woo hoo!!!
All I have to do now is learn how the damned thing works.
.
