Who measures flour in decilitres?

That's what I want to know.

After almost a year of struggling with Estonian recipes, trying to figure out exactly what a "dl" is, I find out it stands for decilitre.

Decilitre.

Here I was, thinking it was some sort of Estonian cup measurement (like tl stands for teelusikas - otherwise known as a tea spoon). Somewhere, I had found a recipe that listed a 1/2dl as 60g, which made me even more convinced that it an Eastern European alternative to our Western cups (250ml - or 8floz).

No, it's decilitre. 100ml.

I don't know why I feel annoyed, but I do.

Plus, now I know what it is, I need to get a new measuring cup with 100ml marks so I can stop putting too much of everything into my recipes.

My attitude can best be summed up in one non-word:

Humph.

My new shoes gave me blisters

Not very profound, I know. But true.

My Two Bits - "It Takes Two"

If I were a judge on It Takes Two...

Paul O'Brien, take the lollies out of your ears and listen to this, as it will do you some good. You can't sing. I say this with love - some people just can't sing, and you're one of them. This isn't, however your problem.

You see, Rex Harrison couldn't sing, and his two most famous movies were both musicals. Everyone loved his performance and nobody cared about his lack of singing ability. Glynis Johns couldn't really sing, but Sondheim wrote "Send in the Clowns" and the other songs she sang in A Little Night Music to be songs you don't have to sing well, and everyone loved her performance and nobody cared about her lack of singing ability.

Bob Dylan really can't sing, but hardly anyone cares. Iris Dement can't really sing, but she has six albums and a huge fan base to her name (one that includes me). I can probably rattle off half a dozen other people who can't sing, but have managed to make a career in the music business anyway.

I have seen many performances in which the singing was absolutely terrible, but I didn't mind because the performances were enjoyable. You see, sometimes you can get away with one little flaw as long as you replace it with pizazz. The key is to turn your weakness into your strength, and then play to your strengths.

Own the stage, Paul. Don't think about how much people are listening to your voice. Think about how they are watching you shine - and shine for them. Be so charming and captivating that the fact that you can't sing is just part of the charm. Stop trying to sing the songs and just woo the audience. If you look like you enjoy what you're doing and you're putting on a great show for people who deserve a great show... Well, no one will care about the voice.

You see, Paul, your problem is not that you can't sing. Your problem is that you're acting as if singing badly is a problem. When we watch you, you look like you're embarrassed, apologetic - like you wish you were doing something else.

Stop that. Accept the fact that you sing badly and love yourself for it. Pick songs in which the singing isn't as important as the message in the song, then concentrate on the message and how you're going to make us love you for bringing it to us.

This is the one piece of advice I always tried to instill in my students - sell the illusion and the audience will forgive you for a multitude of sins.

Sell it, Paul. Forget about singing to us and just sweep us off our feet.

Easter Eggs

One of the great things about Easter as a stolen Spring-time holiday from the heathens of the Northern Hemisphere is the proliferation of exceptionally unlikely eggs.

Take the average Red Tulip Easter egg. It doesn't matter what size. For some inexplicable reason they all have this strange pattern etched into the outside - like scales on a plastic toy snake.

What eggs have scales?

Yet, for years, I've been eating these chocolate eggs with scales etched all over them and never once questioned the pattern.

By the way, I've only just found out that Red Tulip is made by Cadbury. This explains why they can afford to only have a real presence for three months of the year.

Mind like a sieve

Over the course of the last weekend I thought of about six or so different blog entries for when I got back onto a computer.

Do you think I can remember any of them?

A clue: No.

Of Pens and Washing Machines

I've finally conceded defeat.

In the Sheaffer Pen vs Washing Machine showdown, the washing machine has won.

In spite of my (admittedly rather hamfisted) attempts to resurrect the pen, it has simply had too much damage to the mechanism.

I have another pen of the same make and model, but it sounds "funny". It has an extra "ksching" to the click that my favourite pen didn't have.

I wonder if I could get away with cobbling them together into some kind of Frankenstein's Pen, or if I should just yield to the circle of life and allow the old pen to die in peace?

An interesting weekend

I wasn't well this weekend. I think I came down with some sort of virus or something. Dizzy spells, stomach pains, a bit of vomiting.

The fun part came yesterday when my eyeball exploded.

Well, it didn't really explode. I popped a blood vessel so half of my eyeball looks like a wall of blood. No real damage, it just feels dry and scratchy. Looks terrible, though.

Oscar is a Time Lord!

It makes sense. It makes perfect sense.

How else could Oscar possibly fit so much into one trash can unless it was bigger on the inside than it is on the outside?

Time Lord technology! Clearly, his garbage can is a TARDIS that landed on Sesame Street and the chameleon circuit made it blend in with the surrounding junk.

I wonder if Oscar originally looked human, but the chameleon arc technology turned him into a monster to blend in with the other monsters that inexplicably populate the neighbourhood? Maybe the arc has been misplaced amongst all the other junk, which is why he honestly believes he is "a grouch".

I wonder what strange danger is soon to befall the residents of Sesame Street as a result of having a Time Lord in hiding in their neighbourhood? I mean, they're already overrun with monsters - what else could happen to them?

...Unless... Could it be that Oscar is actually hiding from the monsters, who came to Sesame Street to find him and ended up just sticking around because of all the sunny days, sweet air, songs and games? Could the TARDIS have chosen to turn Oscar into a grouch because disguising him as a monster was the perfect way to keep him safe from other monsters?

The plot thickens.

Mary Poppins, coming down.

For a while now (about four years, give or take) I've been secretly thinking of myself as Mary Poppins.

Not just because I'm "practically perfect in every way" or because I burst into song at the drop of a hat, but because I seem to be living a very temporary existence. I blow in for a short period of time, and blow out when the wind changes. In the mean time, I'd like to think I try to leave the places I've been slightly better off for having me there.

This doesn't always work. In spite of my good intentions I have left a few places a little worse for having me there, rather than better for it, but I try to be at least friendly and polite enough that no one can really hate me - even if I deserve it.

Anyway, it seems as if I might be staying still for at least a year. Possibly longer. In the same place where I've already been staying for a whole year. And by choice.

All these things seem strange and new to me. Like Mary Poppins renting out a cottage while she runs the local preschool for a year.

And the weird thing is, I had a chance to blow away again. I was offered a really good job in another town. I really wanted to take it too, but I realised I'd probably be looking to blow away again in another year or two, and that wouldn't be fair to them. At least, where I am, they're just happy to have me here for now. Then, when the wind changes, they won't be too terribly put out to see me go.

Strange logic, I know: stay still so I can leave. I'm not sure how well it would work, but I'll find out soon enough, I suppose.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the handle of my umbrella has been trying to get my attention for a while now...

Stupid People

There is an undeniable and universal truth: People are stupid, and some people are really, really stupid.

Recently, a few people at the university were getting scammed by some phishing emails purporting to be from university admin and asking for their full name, date of birth, username and password.

In response to these emails, the real admin sent out a warning to everyone, telling people not to answer any emails that asked for all of these details as no one official would ever ask for them. Of course, to explain this, they had listed exactly what details these phishing emails were asking for...

And people supplied them.

That's right, people answered the administration email which told them to never give these details to anyone by handing over said details.

There was nothing terribly confusing about this email. It used the word "never" several times and "do not" on a number of occasions. Most people just didn't read it. They scanned the mail, saw something that asked for details and handed them over without really noticing who they were giving them to or for what purpose.

In all fairness, some of these people were not entirely conversant in English and probably didn't have time to sit down and translate the whole thing, but still...

The joy of it all is that, as the person on the front desk, I get to tell these people that they can't get into their accounts because administration declared them as a security risk and blocked their access. I have to explain to them what they did wrong in such a way that encourages them to think about it more carefully next time.

It is hard to think of a polite way to do this. Especially when every part of you is begging to say "You're computer privileges have been revoked due to the fact that you don't read anything and you're stupid. From now on you may only use print material and the actual mail service. Even the use of the telephone is probably not advised."

It's no wonder there are so many scammers out there - it's like taking candy from a baby.

For future reference, no one in any official capacity will ask you to send them confirmation of every piece of security information. No one in any official capacity will ask you to send them your password. No one in any official capacity will ask you to send them any details of worth unless you've asked them to do something first.

Here's the way it works - first, you ask for a service, then they ask for some information. If someone contacts you asking for information when you haven't asked them for anything first, treat it very suspiciously. Especially if they haven't contacted you by name or given you your membership number as proof that they actually do know you you are and have some reason for contacting you.

This goes for banks, universities, PayPal or any other service you might use.

My Favourite Line for Today

Catching up on old Agnes comics, I came across this beauty from the days leading up to Valentines Day:

I now love you with the white hot passion that sane people consider inappropriate.

I'm going to have to find a way to use that line one day.