My co-worker Devvy pointed me to Crochet Me today. It’s sorta like the crochet equivalent of Knitty. Rock on, hookers!

Idol Roundup: I have to say, the thrill of the show has really gone for me now that Bobby is out. There’s just very little chance of being surprised anymore. The Final Four show was a classic example of this. Jess trilled like Mariah and made it look easy; Chris rocked out and had a good time; Dean warbled some “alternative” tween songs; and Damien falsettoed his way through a ballad. I’m really not fussed about any of them. I agree that the contest is Damien’s to lose at this point, but does anybody think he’d become a superstar? (Other than TallulahBelle, that is, who could clearly push his first album to #1 all on her own.) I’m still rooting for Jess, just because I identify most with her. But really, I’m not bothered much anymore…

Advertiser on phone: So would it be okay to drop by the shop and give you some of this material?
Me: Sure, I’m here Monday to Friday.
Him: How about Tuesday afternoon?
Me: No way! Dude, it’s Melbourne Cup Day!

And with that, I think my Australian transformation is complete. I went from mockery and scorn to actively rescheduling meetings around a HORSE RACE. *sigh* Good grief. Not to mention the fact that I just spent two hours baking peanut butter cookies to give to the printers next door in compensation for all their beer I plan drinking tomorrow…

You’d think if you were Utah’s Public Enemy Number One you’d try to, you know, make yourself a little less conspicuous or something…

Happy birthday to my brother Anthony, who turns 24 today. (And guess what, RT? He’s single again!)

I’ve been wanting to visit Spice I Am ever since Grab Your Fork gave it such a glowing review. It’s supposed to be one of the best Thai places in all of Sydney (which is saying something). The Snook and I headed over there after work last night and found a crowd of people waiting for seats in the very bustling (and tiny!) restaurant. We put our names down and then retired up the street to the Macquarie Hotel for a pre-dinner beer. Half an hour later we were back at Spice I Am waiting for our table to be cleared. We saw several other tables with an amazing looking fish dish, and I decided that I was definitely up for some seafood. Once we got inside, I told the waiter that it was our first visit and we were happy for him to make a recommendation. We ended up ordering a starter of pork satay and the ubiquitous fish dish, which was the special of the day: a whole fried snapper with a green mango salad. The satay arrived within minutes and was hot and succulent. The peanut sauce definitely had a little more fire than I’m used to. (I have to complain though: why provide five skewers? That doesn’t divide well for any groups.) Then suddenly the fish arrived, and it was magnificent. It had been wok-fried and there were deep slashes in the side to allow the heat and sauce to penetrate. Our waiter had thoughtfully put most of the chili in a shot glass on the side so we weren’t overwhelmed. The salad piled on top was a glorious mix of shredded green mango, onion, coriander, lemongrass, chili, peanuts, and probably a dozen other things I couldn’t identify. The flavour was like an explosion in your mouth: yes, spicy, but also sour and zingy and fresh and balanced. The fish was perfectly cooked with crunchy skin and delicate flesh that fell away from the bones. I think I can honestly say this was the best fish I’ve ever eaten (not that I’ve eaten much). We had some rice to sop up the sauce and washed it all down with a bottle of Verdelho. We didn’t get a lot of chance to linger and I’m not even sure if there was a dessert menu; as soon as we were finished our plates were whisked away and the bill was presented. Not that I can blame them; there were still people waiting to get seated. Total cost for the two of us: $40. That’s nuts. We’re so going back.

The rest of the night was markedly less sophisticated, as we stopped in for a “nightcap” at the KB Hotel. The next few hours are a bit of a blur, to be honest. They were playing great music, and everybody in the bar was singing along. (They were even passing a microphone around.) I made bathroom friends with this chick studying musical theater. The Snook and I had a brilliant idea for our Halloween costumes next year (and I think I may have sent some drunken SMSes to Amy about it). We stumbled home and proceeded to rock out to They Might Be Giants and Paul Kelly, and I found an unopened bottle of Bailey’s in the cupboard. Lord, what a night. I haven’t had that much fun in years. It was like being in college again.

Unfortunately, I no longer have a college student’s ability to rally. I am hungover as a dog. Man, how can something that makes you feel so good at night leave you feeling sick as a dog the next day? Blecccccchhhhh.

Movember continues. The Snook has started considering his options. I’m still a fan of the “Wild West,” though I think “Handlebar” could also be fun…

I’m asking MetaFilter about spotting crappily-made clothing before buying it. I bought a great pink top at Cotton On two weeks ago and the darn thing’s twisting on me. That was a waste of $15.

Updated to add: It’s not the one I’m wearing in the picture with Clover before. That one’s from Target, and it’s held up fine. See, that’s the whole problem! How do I tell the quality cheap shirts from the dodgy ones? Or is clothing craftsmanship simply a matter of “you get what you pay for”?