This is my blog, and I find it extremely childish to delete someone’s comments just because they’re A) winning an argument and B) making me look like a big whiny-ass baby. Grrrr. Just had to get that off my chest.

The verdict on the eyebrow-waxing: not too bad. She didn’t even give me time to get worried. Just slapped on some wax, pressed some paper on it, and RIIIIIIP! My brows have never been so sleek and smooth. That was seven bucks well spent.

As expected, Sydney’s sports reporters are all but committing suicide over Lleyton Hewitt’s shock first round loss yesterday at the Open.

He was that battery bunny gone flat. Superman with kryptonite in his racquet handle. Popeye all out of spinach. Lleyton Hewitt was not himself. The great Australian hope was run around, worn down and, after three hours and 33 minutes, conquered.

Yeah, they take sports pretty seriously here. (I kinda agree with Lleyton about that dodgy trainer break at 5-4 in the tie breaker, though.)

Yeah, it’s another Bush vs. the Pretzel story, but go look at the picture. Some prankster at Madame Tussaud’s in London ingeniously placed a large pretzel in Shrub’s wax mannequin’s hand. Ha!

Girls, scientists suggest that if you want to match the boys drink-for-drink, stick to beer. It’s all about the enzymes. Dude, Notre Dame chicks figured that out years ago. (The first bit, not the part about the enzymes.)

As a soon-to-be Aussie (and given the whipping NZ gave us in the cricket last week), I feel entitled to pass on a little Lord of the Rings-style Kiwi bashing. (For the Americans, the odd spellings are making fun of the Kiwi accent.)

New Poll: It seems like every female weblogger asks this at some point, but what the hell. What color should I dye my hair? You can see the whole spectrum in the image at the top of the site. It’s currently red, but faded. I’m not sure whether I should change it. On one hand, bright red hair might make it a little more difficult to get a job (once I finally start looking). But on the other, I live in the punky part of town, and how much longer will I be able to get away with this in my life? Maybe I should keep it a little longer. So look through those pics and tell me what you think.

On a related note, I’ve got a new experience scheduled for today: I’m having my eyebrows waxed. No, I don’t have a unibrow or anything. But I’m tired of tweezing them to keep them pretty, so I’m gonna pay some woman to shape them for me. Full report to follow…

“My name is Pussy Galore.”
The Snook and I have been slowly going through his Christmas present from me, the complete James Bond DVD collection. (He’s seen them all; I haven’t seen any.) Last night was Goldfinger (ba-baaaaaaa-ba!). This was my favorite so far. I looooved Pussy Galore. How the hell could Honor Blackman keep a straight face when Connery called her “Pussy” in that Scottish accent? I cried with laughter when I saw the name of her piloting business (hence my new strapline). I also liked Oddjob, Goldfinger’s supposedly Korean butler with the lethal hat. Come on, the guy took a gold brick in the chest and didn’t even flinch! The whole movie was just a triumph of camp style and action over realism and political-correctness. I highly recommend it.

Where in pi is your name? “Kris” comes up at the 3,293,858,216th character. “Snook” is found at the 3,678,202,232th. I win! (Link courtesy of new discovery John at Wibbly Weblog, which I’m trying out in my links list.)

You might have already noticed, but it blows my mind that I can now read all my favorite catalogs at Google. Ahhh, to remember the days when J. Crew inundated Notre Dame with about five catalogs per student…