Browsing Junkgirl™ blog archives for July, 2009.
First visit to Max Brenner
Chocolat, choice: Dark, served in the Hug Mug.
Inside looking out.
The counter.
Max Brenner, the bald man.
Cappucino, served in the Kangaroo Cup.
Mugs and Cups for sale.
Choco-ciggies.
For sale.
Outside looking in.
First they had Plasma TVs
Then they came up with LCD TVs
Now, it’s LED TVs
This LED TV is by Samsung
A visit to Ikea in Richmond
Carry bags for use while shopping in-store. Ikea doen not provide complimentary carry bags at check-out. Bags need to be purchased if required. Tip – bring your own bag.
The ascend into Ikea
Feeding at Ikea cafe. Salmon with cous cous
Swedish meatballs with chips and a spoonful of cranberry sauce (yucks) on the side
Plenty of simple, smart and affordable (mostly) solutions. How can anyone not like Ikea?
You will…
is a movie, starring Richard Gere, based on a true story about a dog named Hachiko. Hachiko is an Akita breed who lived with his owner, a professor, in Tokyo in the 1920s. He waits at the train station each day for the scheduled train, for his owner to return home from work. One day, his owner never returned. He died at work that day. But Hachiko continued to show up at the train station, on the same schedule, for many years.
an extremely beautiful dog as Hachi but do not go and get yourself an Akita just from watching Hachi
You should always consider whether there will be someone reliable to take care of your dog or pet should you not be able to return home one day. If you are on your own, then you should probably not get a pet merely to keep you company. That is plain selfish. Pets can’t refill their own waterbowls when it dries up. They can’t open the door to get out if there is a fire. They need you to be around for them.
Hachiko has a statue erected to commemorate him, just outside Shibuya station. It has become a popular meeting place in crowded Shibuya.
You dance like no one else. You are distinctive. Bye, Michael Jackson.
My favourite song of yours.
Live version.
Those that speak of your love and care for Michael Jackson during his memorial, were you there for him when he was still beating?
(13 January 2009)
a store selling chinese kitchen goods
condiments holder
edible kompeito. i thought this was a replica kompeito and will make an ideal display since there is no ‘use-by’ date. just to be sure that it is a replica, i asked the shopkeeper in my limited Japanese “kore wa tabemasu ka”, which translates as ‘this eat?’. He replied “hai…oishii desu yo” which means ‘yes…delicious!’. it wasn’t a replica, it was the real thing.
an umbrella bag dispenser
a coffee shop spotted
replica
bundled snacks
more replica
another replica store
a rehydrating break
bowls displayed besides the staircase
upstairs
going down the stairs
taking extra care not to sweep any bowls onto the floor
beautiful and heavy teapots
exterior of the store
Kappabashi dori (or street) completed
headed back to Asakusa
local area
a short break at Freshness Burger
It says…Please do not smoke while walking
A character of Asia. Missing this character.
Location: Yaowarat (Chinatown), Bangkok
CS4 Notes: Shadow/Highlights (Midtone contrast 3), Levels (right slider 226, centre slider 0.93), +33 contrast
An interesting rant in The Age today -
Forbidden Apple’s not so sweet
I’m talking to you, Mr iBook-user, sitting in that Lygon Street trattoria, sipping a double ristretto while typing your young-adult novel about teenage vampires with Asperger’s who once danced for Chairman Mao. IT’S TIME TO SHOW YOUR FURY.
I’m talking to you, Madam Apple-Mac-Pro in your South Melbourne editing suite, cutting your four-hour doco on the underwater archaeology of the Mayan Yucatan Peninsula, narrated entirely in original Yucatec. SHOW THE WORLD YOUR OUTRAGE.
I’m talking to YOU, little Ms MacBook-Air, wearing your Elwoody op-shop frock and your Elwoody op-shop buckle shoes, busily using Photoshop to design a fund-raising flyer for an Afghan Refugee Falafel’n'Fattoush Family Fun Night. UNLEASH YOUR ELWOODY WRATH UPON THEM.
Because we are fed up. We meek, mild-mannered Macintoshers are FED UP WITH ALL THOSE FICKLE PC-COMPUTER BULLIES. For decades they scoffed at us with their rancid Hungry Jack’s raw-onion breath. They mocked us in the late ’80s when we tried to run spreadsheets on our little Mac Plus computers and kept getting a “sad Mac” icon because it couldn’t add up double digits. They laughed at us in the late ’90s when we wanted to play cool computer games on our bright “Bondi blue” bubble-gum Macs but the only games available were educational ones, featuring a little kid in pyjamas named Sam, that taught us about weather systems.
But then in 2002 along came the Apple iPod and oh, how quickly did their attitudes shift? Suddenly PC people all wanted to strap an iPod to their jogging arm AS IF THEY WERE ONE OF US. Then in 2007, along came the Apple iPhone and ah, how quickly did their Mac contempt wane? Now they all wanted an iPhone to flash around among their doofy mates AS IF THEY WERE BORN OF OUR ILK.
And now, now, our small long-suffering Mac community has been dealt a final deathblow with the launch of the latest iPhone 3G.
This week at Chadstone I witnessed the downfall of Mac cool with my own eyes which, may I say, look very stylish behind a pair of Danish ProDesign spectacle frames in dark tortoiseshell. I had gone to Chaddy to buy a new iPhone for my wife — not for me, of course, because I’m such an iWanker, I don’t even HAVE a mobile phone. I just tell people: “I don’t like to be contactable all the time; if you need me, it can wait.” But I thought my wife should have one: it might make her a bit more elegant, with a more intuitive interface. Yet when I stepped into the mall — Oh Lord, Our Jobs — I spied queues and queues of iPhone buyers spilling out of every mobile phone shop and electrical appliance outlet. ALL OF THEM LOWLY, FASHIONLESS PC HYPOCRITES (some even appearing to be from non-inner-city locations).
Inside Optus World, hordes of frumpy, gumpy folk were packed tight, pizza cheese still hanging from their chins, touching OUR iPhone touchscreens with their peperoni-greased paws AS IF THEY HAD A RIGHT TO. Outside the Vodafone shop, whole families had assembled, all wearing saggy K-Mart jeans with elasticised waists, and chatting to each other about “the killer iPhone apps” as though they actually UNDERSTOOD OUR MAC LANGUAGE.
Most vexing of all, in the Apple Retail Store itself — our Holy Temple of Jobs — multitudes of anaemic teenage PC gits had gathered, all of them sucking from a Boost Juice and clutching bags of Wii paraphernalia from EB Games, buying top-of-the-range 32GB iPhones AS IF THEY ACTUALLY DESERVED TO OWN ONE. I wanted to rush up to them and yell: “For years you ridiculed us and now you want to bite from the forbidden Apple? No no NOOOOOOOO.” But I didn’t have the guts; they looked so intimidating with their bum-fluffy beards and their feeble cable-conduit arms.
So, arise gallant Macintoshers, arise from your ergonomic office chairs, your non-slip inflatable Pilates balls, your designer milk crates that you bought from a funky warehouse in Richmond specialising in vintage homewares. ARISE AND DEFY THE TREND. We shall not buy this new iPhone: let the commoners have it, I say. Instead, let us maintain our exclusive hip-hop hipness and buy THEIR phone — a Telstra EasyTouch on a $20 plan. And no more iPods either. We shall only buy a Microsoft Zune!
Are you with me, Mac friends? Hello, Mac friends? … Hello?
