'Humor is merely tragedy...

by tosca on Thursday, August 26, 2010

...standing on its head with its pants torn.'
~ Irvin S. Cobb

I'm as fond of a laugh as the next person and, depending on who's standing beside you, maybe even more fond than is ordinarily acceptable (although I dare you to define 'ordinarily acceptable' pfft). So when colleagues send me hilarious book titles and hoot-out-loud-with-laughter video links well, what else am I meant to do but spread she giggles? This is a combination post of a video link/book title because hey, I can. That and I was far too lazy to do so last night after quiz night (where, I might add, we kicked some geek butt).

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"The worst feature of a new baby...

by tosca on Tuesday, August 24, 2010

...is its mother's singing."
~ Kin Hubbard

Mmmm not in our family. Everyone sings and/or plays guitar and they all sound pretty damn good while doing it, too. Including baby Remy's mother. Family home evenings always involved music (my parents are mormons and yeah, I grew up mormon except if you stand still and listen to dad long enough he'll tell you I'm the spawn of Satan and the doors will fall off their hinges should I ever enter a church). I remember we were always singing somewhere: baptisms, weddings and fireside evenings (weirdly, there were no fires at those fireside evenings, in fact, once I remember wearing a fur coat). Upshot? Music is a mainstay, so I probably shouldn't have been surprised that even the baby enjoys it, too. And yet, I kinda am.

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"The ability to read awoke inside me...

by tosca on Monday, August 23, 2010

...some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.”
~ Autobiography of Malcolm X

I do not remember when my love affair with books began. As a precocious 11 year old reading 'Fear of flying' by Erica Jong? As a curious 9 year old reading Nabokov's 'Lolita'? As a 7 year old with a literary crush reading The Hardy Boys under the blankets after lights out? As a 5 year old reading Milne's 'Now we are six' with my mum? As a 3 year old listening to my mum read me bible stories (that were more like horror stories as a toddler but hey, what did I know?). Earlier, perhaps? I'm not sure. I'll probably never know. But everyday I am grateful that it began some day, some when, and that my parents fostered it. It's Monday and this is an 'on the shelf' post or a 'what I'm reading' post.

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'My ethnicity was my choice...

by tosca on Tuesday, August 10, 2010

...It still is.'
~ Isaac Mizrahi

Well no, it's not. Or at least, not for me. I am Maori every second of every minute of every hour of every day. I don't know how to be anything else. For me that means: I speak the language (although no longer as fluently as I used to and that's my own fault); I know my whakapapa going generations back; I can recite the stories that go with those ancestors; I have a turangawaewae, rangatira, waka, awa, maunga & marae; I know about my culture & my history - and those parts of me are not dying out. I am not dying out. It's Tuesday and this is a 'My family & other animals post' or hmm, things my family say or do that are worth blogging about. The quick roundabout story for how this post came about goes like this: Professor Paul Moon (lecturer from my angry student days) commented on a link on Facebook that was initially shared by Joris de Bres (yeah, as in NZ's Race Relations Commissioner) that was actually an article written by Matt Lawrey in The Nelson Mail called 'Kia ora to an enlightened attitude towards te reo.' It's a great article...until you read the comments. Depressed the hell outta me and reminded me of advice my parents gave me that sucked. Badly.

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'The golden rule...

by tosca on Thursday, August 5, 2010

...is that there are no golden rules.'
- George Bernard Shaw

I'm going to break my posting rules and turn this one into a two-fer mostly because I was too lazy after quiz night last night to get my shit together and post then. As a result, this is a combination of Wednesday's odball/funny book cover/title and Thursday's clip of the week (only with 3 clips instead of 1 - maths was never my forte).

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'My nephews all look at me differently now...

by tosca on Tuesday, August 3, 2010

...Before, they couldn't relate to me, and now I'm like a god.'
~ Ruth Buzzi

Yes, that is a baby bottle that is shaped like a perky boob and yes, it has a place in this story ;) My nephews don't look at me like I'm a god all the time. Only when I fix the pc for them when it's misbehaving or on bad movie night Friday because, apparently, nobody knows a bad movie like I do. I'm still not sure whether or not I should be consider that a compliment.

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