ragingyoghurt

Category Archives: werk

what’s this? three posts in two days? surely this means that that harpie of a book project i was working on is safely ensconced at the printers, being teased and bound into its silky-sheened covers… but, no.

after postponing the launch date for a fortnight to give us more time to work on it, it became clear that “us” meant “them”. “they” who, after i gave them a stack of PDFs for proofing a week and a bit ago, promised daily that the amendments would be sent back tomorrow, then tomorrow, then monday, then tomorrow, then tomorrow, then tomorrow, then this afternoon, no, tomorrow, no no, this afternoon. so finally on thursday it landed with a thud, as only an 11-page word doc can, detailing changes, additions, suggestions to move a single page to somewhere else in the book where there is already something else, and an even better suggestion that because they had to remove a pictorial page i could perhaps add some pages at the end where more pictures could go. hmf.

so i did the sensible thing of course: i ignored it. and gave myself the day off. this was possible because friday morning, a little before five, the boy took the kid — slumped still asleep on his shoulder — away for easter holidays, in the country, with his olds, for an unspecified period of time, but most probably at least until wednesday.

W H O O P.

so i blogged for some hours. and i went up the street in the drizzle for a paper and some magazines, and i sat on my balcony drinking hot chocolate and eating hot buttered cross loaf. then i blogged for some more hours. and watched four episodes of season two of “carnivale”, rented the day before for the bargain price of $3.50 for the entire six-disc set.

then i made wontons, which is something i’d wanted to do since i read of helen’s wonton frenzy. truly, it was as easy as she said, and why have i not done this sooner? the only hiccup came halfway through the wrapping: i had dealt with exactly half of my filling of organic pork mince, water chesnuts, straw mushrooms, garlic, soy sauce, white pepper and minced garlic… when my wrappers ran out! i guess helen’s packet of wrappers must have been twice the size of mine, and when i read the empty packaging again, there it was: 34 pieces. who the hell gets all geared up squishing minced pork through their bare fingers, and then makes only 34 wontons?? ridiculous.

i wasn’t up to re-refrigerating the bacteria-infested remainder until i got more skins, so i tossed it into my wok with a tub of leftover rice, and voila! instant pork fried rice dinner! which wasn’t very good friday of me i suppose. i made up for it by staying up much too late and watching that jesus movie on tv.

this morning, i found myself awake just after six, so i cleaned the house. i have a clean house. so maybe it’s not the same as if my mum had cleaned it, but spray and wipe was involved, and a vacuum cleaner, and several large garbage bags. by ten, i was freshly scrubbed, waiting for deborah to show up: we were going on a bagel hunt.

she’d mentioned these really good bagels that a colleague kept bringing her, and then there was a story in the paper, and a one-off easter weekend saturday opening, and it all came down to us on a train to bondi junction, finding the great bagel and coffee company right there in the pedestrian mall, and splitting an everything bagel with a generous spread of smoked salmon and dill cream cheese: cream cheese, into which had been blended smoked salmon and dill. we ate it, so happily, sitting just in from the rain, with paper cups of steaming english breakfast tea. then we went back in and between us bought 18 bagels to go.

except we didn’t. well, the bagels didn’t. the counterboys were kind enough to hold them for us, while we explored the westfield behemoth across the road. after a few hours of great consumer restraint, we went back to pick up our bagels, and pretended for a little while that it might maybe be a little bit too crazy if we sat down to bagel sandwiches for lunch. our restraint is no match for bagels though, so there we were:

“i think i’ll get the pastrami one.”
“mmm, yeah, i think i might too.”
beat.
“unless…”
“we order two different ones and split them?”
“yeah!”

it helps to talk things through sometimes. the pastrami one, for which we chose a rye bagel, comes with sliced pickle, tomato, lettuce and mustard. they put the pastrami on steaming, but if you sit outside on a rainy autumn day, and decide that you want to save the pastrami one for last, it will be stone cold. but tasty. so tasty. tastier, though not necessarily better, than the turkey one, on an onion bagel, with cranberry sauce, avocado, brie and sprouts.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 7 April 2007 at 9:38 pm

permalink | filed under around town, kitchen, lunch, werk

a fillet of salmon meets its demise, surrounded by green: green peas, green mash, salsa verde.

bloody hell. has it been a week of freakish death or what? i started watching “look both ways” last year, and one of the characters, an artist, had moments where she saw random and violent ways in which she came to an end. these episodes — being flattened by a train, or eaten by a shark — were animated in the style of her painting… and were strangely similar to the fleeting glimpses i get from time to time: if i’m standing high up somewhere, i look down and imagine myself broken on the ground below; or if i’m waiting to cross the street on the corner, i might see a car riding the pavement and ploughing into me. which is what happened to those people in kogarah. did they ever think it would happen to them? i never did see what becomes of the movie; it was a rental, and halfway through it started sticking every few seconds. i returned it unfinished, and got a credit on my account, and eventually used it to borrow an instalment of the last season of “six feet under“. me, obsessed with death? naw.

there were times in the last couple of weeks though, where i thought my unravelling would be due to the book i’m currently working on. i cannot describe to you the despair i felt as i opened each jpg, to find that it was yet another badly lit, out-of-focus snapshot, and that it had been scanned in at too low a resolution; a blessing or a curse — that it could only be used small? by last weekend, the RSI had set in, and my eyes itched in revolt when i so much as glanced at my screen. still, i felt like i had finally broken the back of the beast. i knew where things lay; i knew what had to be done. and then the email came in:

“i am going to send you the book map that we changed around a bit too (minor) so maybe send the pagination once you have done your stuff.”

you did not hear the screams, but they were so loud (major), in my head.

but it hasn’t all been crap, even when my grandfather died last thursday. he’d been sliding into dementia for years, and had suffered a series of mini-strokes which left him increasingly placid and smiley. he no longer knew who i was, and i hardly saw him anyway. but when i was six, he taught us — me and my cousins — such things as not to point at people with our chopsticks, and not to sit at the dining table with our legs propped up on our chairs; only rickshaw drivers sat like that. he obsessively clipped stories from the chinese newspaper and pasted them into his scrapbooks, and sometimes he would test me by making me read headlines. he never really accepted the excuse that i only knew the simplified modern characters. he was admitted into hospital already halfway gone. my mum txted me while we were at the powerhouse on that day — harmony day — when all visitors wearing thongs (footwear, not bumfloss) got in for free: she was on the 7.30 bus to KL. barely twelve hours later, they shut off the machines. and off he went.

if you go to the powerhouse museum before april 22, you will get to see guan wei‘s splendid mural on the walls of the top floor, a “floating, poetic corridor in which history and memory, fact and fiction are blurred” [in his own words, from the powerhouse website]. it is great, and there is a stuffed wombat.

so there was that, and also, one day i made green mashed potatoes — buttery mash with some improvised salsa verde swirled through (with extra salsa verde on the side) (and enough mash and salsa verde left over for two more meals consisting solely of mashed potato and salsa verde).

and yesterday, walking through pitt street mall, the kid and i simultaneously glanced over at the entrance to the myer food hall, and simultaneously registered that there was a pair of gigantic golden bunny ears popping up over the escalators. specifically it was the lindt gold easter bunny, ten feet tall, the best kind of inflated doll. we had just missed some sort of chocolate demonstration, but the lindt girl offered us a lindor easter egg and a little easter chicken from her easter basket. (and then while waiting for the bus, maeve insisted on unpeeling her chicken, and the whole body of it fell out onto the funky black ground, leaving her holding onto the tiny hollow head, still wrapped in foil, and she was rightfully traumatised, but there was funky black matter stuck to the chicken, though only on one side, so i broke off the tainted side and gave the rest of it back to her, and she ate it and was mostly fine except for a bit of a loose bowel today.)

and two sundays ago, we went to the playschool concert in tumbalong park, during which a purple paper birthday cake was unveiled, and everybody sang “happy birthday” to the sydney harbour bridge. the cake was nice and all, but nowhere quite as delicious as jay la’gaia.

and then later in the day, we walked over the bridge, and looked up into the steel arches, and down between the gaps in the roadway into the deep green harbour, and by the end, just as it began to drizzle, i hadn’t fallen in, or been flattened by a girder.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 29 March 2007 at 9:47 pm

permalink | filed under around town, at the movies, chocolate, dinner, kid, snacks, werk

i have just eaten too many mini daim candies in quick succession. eight, to be exact. i was pretty sure i’d stop at four, and then six… and now i feel a little tight in the throat, so eight it is. when i impulse-bought a sack of them at the duty free candy shop in the singapore airport, i thought that maybe i now had too many daims, and that it would be a struggle to get through them. but now i see that the cunning daims, with their thick, milky chocolate covering, and their crunchy, salty toffee caramel centers, will have no trouble getting eaten. at all.

i am about to be buried in an avalanche of werk, and will certainly need sustenance. i recently read about someone designing a 144-page exhibition catalogue in four weeks (via india, ink.), so perhaps it can be done after all; i think i have three weeks, for 124 pages.

i wonder, though, if the designer of that catalogue looks after a kid all morning, going to pirate storytime at the library, or two playgrounds on the way to the supermarket to buy watermelon, or like this morning, a meander through the tokyo fiesta in martin place followed by a quick look-in at the lindt shop followed by a sushi picnic at circular quay followed by a clamber up the opera house steps to buy tickets for the babies prom, “yummy in my tummy” in a couple of weeks followed by a trek through the botanical gardens (including somersaults in the grass and duck-chasing) followed by a busride through the city and home followed by stories and successful pottytime and tucking in for naps (followed by eight daims and procrastination reading about the riot at target for stella mccartney frocks. people are crazy.).

my mum has a friend in singapore — her boss, really — whose daughter had twins a little while ago, and worked out this arrangement: the babies stay over at the grandparents’ house during the week, nights included, and then the parents retrieve them for the weekend, unless the boss’s daughter has like, a dinner to go to, or an appointment for a facial or a massage or something, then the babies stay at the grandparents on the weekend too. nightfeeds, night wakings… all done by the grandparents. she’s lucky that way.

because maeve is going through this phase at the moment, where her sippy cup has to be tucked in, and every last finger too, and if something should come untucked during the nap (or, even worse, during the night) then the keening begins.

“maybe her toes are cold,” said my mother, mishearing, over the phone a couple nights ago. “maybe you should put socks on her so she won’t feel the cold and wake up.”

“no, not her toes. she wants her cup to be tucked in.”

my mother is speechless for a time. “wha… her cup?”

“yah.”

“that is sooo funny!”

“funny meh? why don’t you come and tuck her in?”

anyway. so, mother’s boss’s daughter. works in the logistics department at apple. on a whim, i wrote to ask if she could do me an employee discount on an ipod shuffle. she said she had a spare one sitting on her desk, because they just give her one every few months and she’s had so many that she didn’t know who else to give them to anymore. and so she gave it to me. we picked it up on the way to haw par villa. i am lucky that way.

i christened it with “take on me“. mostly, though, i’ve been using it to listen to the mr brown show while doing the dishes after dinner.

i wonder if that exhibition catalog designer has to do the dishes.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 12 March 2007 at 3:05 pm

permalink | filed under around town, candy, chocolate, kid, tv, werk

out in the western suburbs on thursday, during a lunchtime lebanese feast with the kids at ice, i received a txt which said: “maeve is hot and grumpy and wilt. we will come home.”

hungh.

they had only been gone two nights. i was midway through a bottle of intriguing tamarind fizzy, and reaching for my third helping of rice and lentils. i hadn’t been out to granville in about three years, but there were projects to discuss… and isn’t it nice sometimes to be more than an email address? and shouted lunch at the intern’s farewell luncheon? even when it’s crazy hot outside? yes!

after, ben walked me to the new cake shop in town, el sweetie, all shiny marble and wood panelling and boxy leather couches and as promised, a monster, flat-screen tv. of course, the monster trays of lebanese sweets were much more enticing, especially this one: kashta with pistachio.

a layer of crumbly cake, then crushed pistachios, then moist and delicately scented kashta, then more crumbs and a scattering of more nuts. you know how sometimes you have a piece of baklava, and it’s good and all, but you think that maybe it’s too cloying sweet or too nutty? this cake has none of those problems. my slice survived the train and bus rides home, and was divine with a cup of vanilla tea later that afternoon.

shortly after, the boy arrived back home too, with a limp child draped on his shoulder, and car, boots, clothes awash with vomit.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 14 January 2007 at 9:03 pm

permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch, werk

my computer shut itself down twice today. once while i read about stellou tripping about the french seaside, slippery with butter; and once while i read about sons swanning about the lindt cafe, buttery with pain au raisin. i know it seems like i’m not doing very much work at all, just frittering away my time blog-reading, but it’s not true at all (and fritters are yummy!): the wound care manual, despite some last minute surprises, is tapering to a close, and the catalogue for the yoof culture exhibition is steadily picking up speed and megabytes.

[ might i say that the material submitted for the catalogue is a complete contrast to the wound stuff: a CD containing the text documents, including a complete list of captions for the pictures, which came on their own CD. and a hard copy of the text, marked up with which pictures should go where. and there is barely a tab in all 60 or so pages. ]

the computer? i cannot send it away to the tech monkeys, because i need it, for ~~blog reading~~ work. maybe in three weeks, after the deadlines are over, but for now i just save a lot, and hope the files don’t become corrupted as a result. and that mr computer doesn’t get worse through my wilfull ignoring of its sickness. i mean, i’m not really ignoring it… just neglecting it. and the thing is, it turns itself off, and i wait half an hour, and then it lets itself be turned back on again.

this morning, my martha stewart e-newsletter arrived, and alerted me to the existence of these charming labels for one’s school notebooks and lunchbags. i love the diabolical messages in the too-cute drawings ññ the cruel playground taunting of the little pig who can’t wait for lunch; the unspoken fates of the white mouse who thinks science class is cool, and the squirrel who may be allergic to nuts; and the best one: the stereotypical asian kid who’s really smart and knows it, and is clearly cruisin’ for a bruisin’.

or maybe i’m reading too much into it. back to work!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 1 September 2006 at 11:39 pm

permalink | filed under werk

last night after my computer died, i hopped over to the one across the room and blogged about it. after a little while, i heard a clicky-clunky noise from deep within the silent beast. and twice more. and then when i casually pressed the startup button on my way to bed, it did.

it’s working fine today, but every now and again, the clicky-clunky noise. unsettling. i know i shouldn’t think too hard about getting a new computer, because old faithful here will pick up the vibe and then cark it for sure. this is what happened to my previous machine. it was working fine, and then i bought the G4 and while it was still sitting in its box waiting to be set up, the powermac 7200 looked across the room, rolled its eyes and breathed its last.

maeve of course already has her own laptop. there was an ad in a magazine the other week, from which i cut out an almost life-sized keyboard. i glued it onto the corner bit of a nappy carton, and viola: she spends a good few minutes on her typing each day. these are precious minutes!

i’ve been a bit slow on the crafting pickup, but amber has a terrific thing going on at kid’s craft weekly. go look.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 August 2006 at 4:19 pm

permalink | filed under kid, werk

my computer shut itself down twice today. the first time, earlier in the afternoon, brought about a great sense of unease as repeated pressings of the startup key resulted in no start up. the guy on the apple helpline was quite helpful… but for the first few minutes didn’t seem to understand that i wasn’t using a laptop computer. “so you mean like, a desktop computer? with a separate screen?”

he then tried to figure out which model it was. “the 2003 model? with the mirror front?” i laughed darkly. “no, it’s 2000-ish.” i think my computer predated whatever he had handy on his system. but somehow we managed to locate the little (4mm square) silver square button with the black circle in the center, next to the battery, tucked away in the hinged door of the CPU. i pressed it, and nothing happened. i was already thinking about laying out the wound care manual again, from scratch, but then the second time i pressed it, it worked.

i backed up my work folder.

and then just ten minutes ago, my computer turned itself off again. apparently something is making it blow its own fuse. i’m thinking of checking into a hotel for a weekend; i think that might help.

the second time it blew though, i figured work was over for the night, and hopefully when i press the secret button tomorrow morning, it will deign to start up. i suppose i’ll have to think about procuring a new computer. this raises several unpleasant issues… like how it won’t be able to boot up in classic mode, and how i’ll have to update a bunch of murderously expensive design software… with the money i won’t have left over from buying the new computer.

it will also put a kink in my plans to buy organic meat. i’m almost all the way through “the ethics of what we eat”, and the current chapter is sort of pushing the “vegans are better for the environment” angle. i do not think that i will become vegan, so yesterday i bought an organic chicken. it was on special at the supermarket for just a whisper over $20. the whisper is the hushed tone in which you say the price. who knows what the normal retail price is?

i stuffed it with mushrooms, sage, garlic and butter and surrounded it with potatoes, pumpkin and carrots. i put it in the oven, and then maeve and i went to the playground. when we returned, dinner was almost ready. the mushrooms were especially tasty, having cooked in chicken juices. but was the bird itself more delicious and tender than its pitiful, debeaked cousin?

when the boy returned a few hours later from the prefects’ investiture, he said he couldn’t tell the difference. but then he’s hard to please.

the previous night i made what i’d considered a satisfying and well-considered meal of fettuccine pre-primavera: pumpkin, zucchini, mushrooms and chickpeas in a garlicky-tomato sauce. the boy peered closely into his bowl, then disappeared into the kitchen. he returned with a tin of tuna, which he tipped it into his bowl before stirring unceremoniously.

yeah, a weekend in a hotel — just me — would be nice. i wonder if there’ll be room service.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 24 August 2006 at 9:05 pm

permalink | filed under boy, dinner, werk

ah, blogging, that thing i used to do.

such is life in balmain…

we went to the toyshop the other day, and while i paid for the kid’s latest booty: two paintbrushes and a fetching nylon smock, the counter lady asked if i was a member of their loyalty scheme. she went on to explain that the scheme was: for every dollar i spend “on toys”, i get a point, and when i have collected 400 points, i get a $40 voucher.

thing is, i actually do like to collect points and get vouchers (and the like), but i also like to be realistic, and so i asked if the points had an expiry date. she hesitated, looked momentarily bashful, and then said that i would have six months.

“wow. um, i don’t think i could spend $400 on toys in six months,” i said.

“people say that,” the counter lady said encouragingly, “but then they do!”

“it’s true!” said a lithe woman who had just entered the shop. “you’d be surprised! it all adds up!”

i paid the counter lady $20.45, and she printed out my receipt and showed me where i could see my points balance. “only 380 points to go!” i exclaimed gamely… except it wasn’t — the computer had only given me 19 points. i’ve barely begun and already it’s a losing battle.

then we walked a block up the street to a café for some orange-ginger juice and a babycino, and the counter guy was steve bisley.

but the reason why there’s been no time for anything else is that for the last couple of weeks, i’ve been immersed in the eye-straining, RSI-inducing, yet educational world of laying out (and proofreading, and copyediting) a manual on wound care. oh the three different numbering/labelling systems in the same chapter! oh the glamourous photographs of sliced-open toes! oh the email of amendments that arrived yesterday, which says: “page 225 should be relocated to page 180. urgosterile is a dressing! you may have to renumber the pages! sorry lah!”

quite.

so.

now for something completely different. my head is in sandwich mode, and springtime, and picnics! these last couple days i have washed many mixing bowls, and many things have been mixed in-between. i’m waiting for a pot of chocolate ganache to cool down. and already there is a sweet and tart by-product of yesterday’s eggwhites: today’s lemon curd.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 19 August 2006 at 2:49 pm

permalink | filed under around town, kid, kitchen, shoping, werk

i was cooking dinner on saturday night…
- char siu and zucchini omelette
- steamed soft tofu with shitake mushrooms
- stirfried choisum in oyster sauce with dried scallops
…when the kid wandered in and started getting in the way of sharp knives and hot dripping liquids. she also has that trick where she opens the utensil drawer and picks this ladle or that pair of tongs, and scatters it to the four winds, um, corners of the room so that apart from the dishes and the pots and pans, i will also have these extra bits to wash up. you know that trick? argh!

i shooed her out. “how hard is it to keep a kid entertained while i make dinner?” i wondered aloud to the boy, who lay sprawled in front of the tv, nattering to his out-of-towner friend.

“i’m sorry?” said the boy, all indignance. “i’ve been entertaining her all day!”

at which point i laughed such black hiccups of laughter that i might’ve fallen over. because somehow, “all day” to the boy means the two hours between 9.30 and 11.30 that morning when he took her up the street to get the newspaper and some groceries. before which i had gotten up and made her breakfast while he lay in bed for a while longer. and after which he provided her a nutritous lunch of a finger bun covered in pink icing and coloured sprinkles. and then he read the paper while i read her stories and put her to bed. and then he had a nap.

after dinner, the out-of-towner said, “wow. that was certainly the healthiest meal i’ve had in a long time”… which i chose at that point to take as a compliment, and now i’m not so sure. and then the boys went off to see radio birdman and drink themselves into a stupor, while i did the dishes, bathed the kid and put her to bed, and then listened to the monstrous drunken snores wafting down from upstairs in the too-early hours of the morning. they were still snoring when i got up to make the kid breakfast at 7.30, and snoring still a couple of hours later when the kid and i left to go to the park so that we would not be in the way of one snoring boy on the sofa upstairs, and another snoring boy freshly transported to bed downstairs.

boys suck! boys who “mention” that they’ve bathed the kid three nights in a row, after conveniently forgetting the 30 or so nights over summer when i performed such duties while they tooled about in their country estates, and the casual throwaway “i’ll put her to bed for the next month” they utter on their return. boys who do… boys who don’t…

whatever.

i have found myself about to be in an exhibition, as part of sydney design 06. a friend of a friend this, designers dropping out that, and suddenly i’m scrambling to get an old illustration printed up to the size of a wall. you can see this wall at horus and deloris for a couple of weeks, from saturday.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 1 August 2006 at 3:10 pm

permalink | filed under boy, grumble, kid, werk

i had already shut down the computer for the night (what! only 8.30!) and was feeling so sorry for myself that i wasn’t even going to make myself a sundae to cheer myself up. fortunately i came to the same conclusion that you did, just then: it is stupid to let abject self pity get in the way of dessert. so here i am, back, with a cup of vanilla green tea and a glass of double chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce and strawberries. i feel better already.

why, apart from the ice cream, am i feeling so crumpled? the spongihead is upon me! and with it, the sneezing, the drippy nose, the mildly throbbing temples, the smarting eyes, the tinge of a sore throat… (so clearly i should not be having this chocolate sauce — so heaty!)

but more aggravatingly…

about a month ago i was offered a job laying out an annual report. at that stage none of the copy had been written, and so based on the calculation that i would need two weeks to design it, and the printers would need two weeks to print it, and the report was needed in about that time, i declined the job.

“that time”, you might have surmised, is now. you are sharp. a couple of weeks ago i was contacted by the editor who’d been hired to pull the report together. she explained that it was in fact a concise 20 page book, and that each page would have essentially the same layout: a small picture, a highlighted quote, and a slab of text. it was a tight schedule, but once the design was sorted ahead of the wednesday copy deadline, the text could be dropped in easily and quickly, and it would be at the printers on friday. today. somehow they’d managed to find some magical printer who’d do the job in 24 hours.

i should have been more wary of this straighforward task when the sample story came through early in the week, and despite having agreed on the style of the report (based on someone else’s annual report they’d seen and liked), the word count was about three (if not four) times the length of what was required. of course, of course you can fit 750 words into an A5 page, with a picture and a headline and a picture caption and a quote. oh yes, of course.

wednesday came, and then thursday, and now friday — printer day! and just right now, 9.13pm, the first half of the text has arrived in my inbox. along the way, i’d been sent reassuring (yet threatening) emails saying things like, “text arriving later today” and “first half of the text arriving tomorrow”, and then the one yesterday afternoon that made me laugh (it was not a pretty laugh):

“I will have half text pages for you tonight.
Images tomorrow.
Financials over the weekend.
Aim for printer Monday depending on the time you need…??…”

on top of all that, the book has grown to 36 pages.

on top of that, this is one of the sentences in the 36 pages:
“While one of the positives of this project was that the participants were the center of the project, and they were driving it artistically, because it was their lived experience and there were so many big issues that they had a strong desire to deliver them.”

but wait! this is the next sentence:
“The process was cathartic and emotionally difficult for the filmmakers, but highly rewarding to create something which has a broader reach than their own communities.”

i’m the graphic designer though, right? i should just typeset it 8.2/11.5pt and leave it at that. it’s just, i can’t. i sit here, reading while i lay it out, and maybe this is what’s causing my face to hurt.

but, haha, this is where i say, “HAHA! i have fooled you, you april fool!”.

but, no. alas it is only 31 march.

i am so grumpy. and my ice cream is gone.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 31 March 2006 at 8:48 pm

permalink | filed under grumble, ice cream, werk

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