Sharks are misjudged. And it’s all the fault of the media and its loose use of terms such as shark attack. And Hollywood is to blame as well. What with Jaws movies and the like it’s little wonder that sharks cop a bad rap.

Well that’s what researcher Christopher Neff says, and now he wants us all to be a little more politically correct and respectful to sharks by abandoning the term shark attack in favour of shark bite incident and putting that whole Jaws imagery right out of our over-active imaginations.

Oh I can see it now. Headlines scream, Surfer eaten alive in shark bite incident. Actually I can’t see it at all because it is really, really stupid. Water it down all you like—a shark attack is what it is.

Mr Neff, and I don’t think anyone will be surprised when I tell you that he is an American, said that swimmers were not on the (shark) menu and “there is no evidence any shark species develops a taste for human flesh.”

OK, Mr Neff, give us some credit. I’m fairly confident that most of us realise that sharks are not out there swimming around looking for human fillet mignon a la Jaws. However we humans, swimming around in the sea are a potential food source and I think that is what scares the living lights out of us—the fact that whether we are a seal or a human makes no difference to the shark.

However Neff say that I am wrong about this and that sharks don’t eat humans because we provide low nutrition—yes we are the junk food of the sea food chain. So if we are so unhealthy and apparently unpalatable, why do sharks come back for a second bite? For example if I slipped my husband a piece of liver there’s no way he come back for a second go—he’d spit it right out and wash his mouth out with alcohol. Yet people report that the shark comes back for an encore during an attack/incident.

Neff goes on to say that we should avoid beaches at prime shark time. Yes we all so love to swim when the sharks are around—good sport that. My favourite beach at a township called Amity (and yes I’m aware that was the town in the Jaws movie) experienced a fatal shark attack a few years ago. I was swimming in that very spot the week before the attack. Do you think a chicken-heart like me would knowingly swim where there were sharks? No signs, no warnings. There are now though.

Since then I’ve spent all my time swimming at patrolled beaches. When recently holidaying at the Solomon Islands I spent hours quizzing the resort staff about shark attack potential. “Lagoon, lagoon,” they laughed as if I was supposed to be reassured. Haven’t they seen the movie The Beach. That bad old shark breached the lagoon and ate the hero’s best friend.

I swam but all the time worried that I could be a potential shark bite incident victim. See, it just sounds stupid. Image

Take a look and see if these images inspire you for 2012.

By the way–these Bupa ads–what on earth is Bupa?

This is from my weely Gen X Girl column that appears in the Townville Bulletin Savvy magazine.

So the most googled term in 2011—what is love? What a stupid search enquiry. Can you believe that we’ve turned into such an emotionally retarded society that we need to google one of our most base human emotions?

That’s not the only stupid thing I’ve observed this year. Start at the supermarket. Supermarkets have got so stupid that you now have to pay for the privilege of pushing dodgy trolleys around and then have the fun job of scanning and packing your own groceries all the while being bossed around by a voice from a box.

Add to that our limited supermarket choices. At my local supermarket there are only two types of diced tomatoes. Forgive me for sounding like an old person, but back in the day you could choose any number of tinned tomatoes, from fancy Italian ones that were actually grown in New Zealand to thick and rich ones with two generic brands thrown in for good measure. But now, so little choice amongst the canned goods.

Consider marshmallows? Bet that’s a situation that’s doesn’t regularly enter your thought processes, but this is my dilemma last week. I make this fancy little accompaniment to BBQ steak that is based on marshmallows (stop screwing up your face—it’s good). Anyway I like to make this dish from white marshmallows, but there is no longer such a thing as solo white marshmallows. They are mixed in with strawberry ones and peach flavoured ones. I can’t use the pink and orange ones as they make my fancy pants dish look like a bowl of vomit so I have to buy three packets just to get the white ones. And then I’m stuck with all these flavoured marshmallows. Who eats peach marshmallows?

Fixed light speed cameras are also stupid. Road toll statistics are at a record high in 2011. Coincidentally the Queensland Government has rolled out even more of these revenue-raising monstrosities. Simple math. More speed cameras does not equate to less road deaths. More speed cameras equates to more money in government coffers.

The passing of the carbon tax is stupid. Good old Australia is leading the way in stopping climate change by this year passing a tax that will make everyday necessities like power and food more expensive. We’re doing this because we need to make a stand. Never mind that that big polluters like the US, Russia and China aren’t doing anything at all, the Australian government is making a stand on behalf of the world. Oh and so is Finland and Costa Rica.

Actually the whole federal government is stupid. We have an elected government who is totally dominated by the minority party and independents that it needs to actually govern. Our prime minister by proxy Bob Browne gets kudos for the carbon tax, outing our real Prime Minister as a liar. Australia’s dominant legislation for 2011? Gay marriage and poker machine licences. Not the economy and asylum seekers.

These are just a few issues for stupid 2011. To be fair it didn’t look promising from the beginning with it being the year of the rabbit, the year of the flood and the year of the cyclone. But we did get some cool dates like 11/11/11. That was a highlight. Image

A while back I wrote that I was getting one of those robot vacuum cleaner things. A few people have asked me what I think of it so here’s my review on my robo-vac (that’s his picture here).

• OK, we named it. Well my daughter named it Vinnie which I think makes it sound a bit gangsterish and doesn’t really suit it at all, but it’s stuck. I was after something a bit more The Bold and the Beautiful like Vance or Vaughn. But Vinnie it is.
• The dog hates it. He particularly hates that it makes quite a bit of noise. He really hates that I talk to it. Yes, I’m embarrassed to say I actually talk to the thing. I ask it what it’s doing in the the cupboard, tell it go and vacuum the hallway, say hello to it and tell it it’s time to go to bed. This morning I told it it was clever. The dog looked at me in disgust and went to his own bed. He’s still not talking to me.
• Robo-vac (aka Vinnnie) has a mind of it’s own. No matter that I lift it up and take it to where I want it to go, it makes it’s way back to where it wants to be. It is a defiant teenager of a vacuum cleaner.
• It is a really good topic of conversation. I had a houseful of people over on the weekend and every single one of them wanted to see the vacuum in action, stand in front of it to make it bounce off them, play with the remote and comment that it was the stupidest thing they’d ever seen. Jealousy among friends is a terrible thing.
• When it runs out of power (after 80 minutes) it docks itself for a recharge. I like to praise it for doing the cleaning and then putting itself to bed. So intelligent.
• The cleaning lady hates it too. She asks in her thick Italian accent, her tone hurt “why you want that thing for when you have me?” I spent a cup of coffee and half an hour reassuring her that I needed them both and like her much more. She spends a lot of time glaring at Vinnie the vac as she goes about her work.
• It cleans OK, but if the cleaning lady didn’t come once a week, then it wouldn’t be good enough. It keeps up with that little day to day dirt and dog hair so it saves me having to vacuum at all–so yes, I guess it is.

For the record Vinnie is a Clean-Mate 22QL. I paid $200 for it via a Scoopon voucher. That’s all it’s worth.

This is my column from this week’s Savvy magazine, that appears in the Townsville Bulletin.

The letter box is full of junk mail, the shopping centre carparks are full and there’s the ubiquitous hum of Jingle Bells playing in the background. It can only mean one thing—time for the work Christmas party.

Now in the olden days, work Christmas parties were fun-filled affairs with the office junior donning the Santa suit and Betty, the office manager, dressing up like sexy Mrs Claus. The party operated a bit along the mantra that what goes on tour stays on tour.

However, Workplace Health and Safety have just delivered an edict to employers warning them that any injuries or incidents occurring as a result of the work Christmas party are the responsibility of the employer. That’s the quickest way I know of to put the kibosh on free grog. Who’s going to let their staff get tanked if they’re responsible for seeing them off safely? It will be Coke all the way for some staff, and I do mean the stuff you drink.

The Law Institute of Victoria has gone so far as to compile a list of guidelines for employers that will ensure a litigation-free party. Suggestions include putting start and finish times in writing, employers setting a good example by drinking in moderation (hmm, lawyers, always a good example of those who practise drinking in moderation), encouraging non-drinkers to be designated drivers (yep, you don’t get to drink AND you get to drive drunks home—fun, fun, fun) and discouraging inappropriate behaviour.

So there’s the fun police version of what you should and shouldn’t do at the office party. However, in the interests of common sense, I have made a top ten list of things you might like to consider.

1. Beer goggles. Remember that you are wearing them after your third glass of wine. Your judgment is impaired, your vision is impaired and you are not in control. Stay away from the office assistants.
2. Photocopying your bum is not a good idea. A photocopied bum is not a thing of beauty. Do you want 100 copies of yours papering the office? Thought not.
3. Pole dancing should be for strip clubs and trendy exercise classes. Do not gyrate around the support columns in the office no matter how hot you think you will look.
4. Wear appropriate clothes, it’s a work party, not a singles bar. And do you really want your boss looking at your boobs?
5. Keep your clothes on. Please.
6. Don’t hit on anyone. Again it’s an office do, not a singles bar. Do you really want to deal with the repercussions of Kevin in acquisitions thinking you really, really, really like him?
7. Drink, but not too much. If you don’t drink you look like a wowser. If you drink too much you look like, well, a drunk. It’s a fine line. Good luck.
8. Don’t talk about work. Eek, kill me now. And add your children to that. Remember only you and their grandparents find them fascinating.
9. Don’t hog the food. This includes stalking the waitress with the canapé tray. Double dipping is a hangable offence.
10. Don’t be unsociable. Standing around looking like you are sucking a lemon makes you look like a snotty cow. Remove the stick from your behind and perhaps go and photocopy it.

Image

According to a company in China, Virgos and Scorpios are moody and critical. So firmly attached to this theory are they, that they have told anyone born under this star sign not to bother applying for any jobs they might offer. A spokesperson from the company said that Scorpios were moody and Virgos hugely critical.

“I hired people with those two star signs before and they either liked quarrelling with other collegues or they could not do the job for long,” she said.

OK, then. I guess that’s taking generalising to a whole new level.

However should you be a Capricorn, Pisces or Libra, then you will be welcomed with open arms, in fact prioritised.

Other argumentative Scorpios include Hillary Clinto, Pablo Picasso, Truman Copote and Goldie Hawn. Luckily for them they don’t live in China. Image

This is from my weekly Gen X Girl column that appears in the Townsville Bulletin’s Savvy magazine.

Like a pre-teen girl to Justin Bieber, so is Julia Gillard to Barack Obama. That’s the only comparison I can make after last week’s touchy-feely visit from the most powerful leader in the world to our shores.

In fact I feel like chanting “Julia and Obama, sitting in the tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. And I wouldn’t be lying because that’s all they seemed to do. Get off the plane, double cheeked kiss. Official function. Kissy, kissy. Another function—pucker up. And if they weren’t all kissy, kissy they were all handsy, handsy.

There is one photograph of a back view of the couple where they have their arms around each other, with Julia’s hand drifting very close to the President’s behind. I may have just vomited in my mouth a little as I wrote that. It’s a bit like finding out that your parents have sex.

Anyway, it’s all terribly inappropriate. They’re world leaders not dizzy teenagers.

Julia behaved like the nerdy high school girl who scored a date with the captain of the football team. She’s all blushing and batting her eyelashes and setting the women’s cause back forty years. And Obama isn’t setting any kind of example either, constantly putting his arm around the Prime Minister. If this were the real world he’d be up on a sexual harassment case.

We couldn’t even count on Quentin Bryce to behave herself either. She looked for all purposes like a proud mother of the bride watching Jules pecking away at Obama’s cheek. But then I realised that she was just waiting for her turn to grope the President with the longest handshake in history—even longer than her Melbourne Cup presentation speech.

Quentin further brought into the hoopla by dashing home and changing from the lemon-coloured suit and emerging in an orange affair half an hour later. She was a veritable bowl of citrus. Is our Governor General a head of state or an Academy Award presenter?

To Obama’s credit though, he has made Jules glow like a giddy schoolgirl and heaven knows she needs a bit of fun with her opinion poll numbers. His aren’t that flash either.

Just an aside: did you know that they were both born in 1961? And that they send each other birthday cards? I’ll bet Julia actually goes out to the newsagent and chooses the cleverest Hallmark card she can find, writes a personal message, seals it with a kiss and sends it off. I think Obama gets his secretary to do his.

Back to the visit though. The first bloke, Tim Whathisname, knew that he was beaten. He didn’t even hang around to wait for a car to take him to The Lodge. He hot-footed it out of the lovefest with a comment that Obama was a good bloke. Smart man. Who wants to be Kevin Dillon when George Clooney’s in town?

Benneton have just had to pull an ad campaign that featured Obama kissing the Chinese president and the leader of Venezuela. Those images were photo-shopped and condemned by the US Government.

Silly Benneton, they just had to wait around till Obama visited with Julia. Kissing everywhere. No photoshopping necessary. Image

To my father, Spam was canned ham. To my daughter, it’s naughty, annoying email. Here are 21 more expressions which mean something totally different to him than to her.

Tweet
To my father: what a bird says.
To my kid: what Kim Kardashian says.
Pre-game
To my father: the period before the actual game began.
To my kid: drinking before the actual drinking begins.
CD
To my father: ‘certificate of deposit,’ a financial product that once earned interest.
To my kid: what parents used to listen to music on before iTunes.
Stream
To my father: running water in the woods. (Later in life, the efficiency of his bladder to evacuate.)
To my kid: what gets Justin Bieber performing on her computer screen.
Like
To my father: a positive sentiment, generally about a person, place or thing.
To my kid: a “button” (on Facebook) expressing one’s vote of agreement.
Text
To my father: the original words of something written or printed.
To my kid: phone message made up of the letters OMG, LOL & WTF.
Junk
To my father: the stuff in one’s attic.
To my kid: the stuff in one’s pants.
Chat
To my father: what you do in person with friends.
To my kid: what you do on a computer with buddies.
Social network
To my father: friends and neighbors with whom you actually hang out.
To my kid: people you “know” on Facebook and Twitter, most of whom you’ve never met.
#
To my father: number sign
To my kid: hashtag
Roaming
To my father: What the buffalo did on the range.
To my kid: Excessive phone charges, paid by parent.
Swipe
To my father: to steal.
To my kid: what you do with a credit card, also paid by parent.
The shit
To my father: what a dog left on the sidewalk.
To my kid: something awesome.
The bomb
To my father: Hiroshima.
To my kid: also something awesome.
Reality
To my father: the state of things as they actually exist.
To my kid: TV shows that bear no resemblance to the state of things as they actually exist.
The Jersey Shore
To my father: The beach where Jersey people went in the summer.
To my kid: A “reality” show featuring halfwits exhibiting bad behavior.
The situation
To my father: A state of affairs.
To my kid: Asinine guy with great abdominals, exhibiting bad behavior.
Digital
To my father: A thermometer.
To my kid: An entire way of life, dude.
Weed
To my father: what grew on the lawn.
To my kid: what the kids bring to school.
Get Busy
To my father: To occupy yourself.
To my kid: To occupy yourself having sex.
Cougar
To my father: Large wild cat preying on deer.
To my kid: Older wild woman preying on younger men.
Muffin top
To my father: Top of a muffin.
To my kid: Fat role around the waist.
Gangster, now as “gangsta”
To my father: Al Capone.
To my kid: Fifty Cent (aka “Fitty”).
Fifty
To my father: 50.
To my kid: The new 40.
Sick
To my father: Physically ill.
To my kid: Fantastic.
Ill
To my father: Physically sick.
To my kid: Also fantastic.
Ecstasy
To my father: A trance-like state of absolute euphoria.
To my kid: A pill, to produce a trance-like state of absolute euphoria.
Energy Drink
To my father: Coffee.
To my kid: Red Bull.
Vietnam
To my father: Horrendous war.
To my kid: Wonderful tourist destination.
Crib
To my father: Where a baby sleeps.
To my kid: Where a rapper sleeps.
ED
To my father: Talking horse of old TV show (“A horse is a horse, of course of course…”)
To my kid: Erectile dysfunction (“Seek immediate medical attention for an erection lasting over four hours.”)
Wicked
To my father: Very bad.
To my kid: Very good.
Train wreck
To my father: A train that was wrecked.
To my kid: Lindsay Lohan

Can you think of any more? Image

CBS reports on a Cisco conducted survey on 400 students and 1,4000 young professionals aged 21-29 in 14 countries, asking about their tech habits and views.

One in three college students and young professionals considers the Internet to be as important as fundamental human resources like air, water, food and shelter.
More than half of the study’s respondents say they could not live without the Internet and cite it as an “integral part of their lives.”

Gosh that’s melodramatic, isn’t it–ranking the internet right up there with food and water. Perhaps they need to google that air is essential to life whereas the internet is not. Just saying.

Other finding include:

• One in three college students and young employees under the age of 30 said would prioritize social media freedom, device flexibility, and work mobility over salary in accepting a job offer.
• 40 percent of college students and 45 percent of and young employees said they would accept a lower-paying job that had more flexibility with regard to device choice, social media access, and mobility than a higher-paying job with less flexibility.
• 81 percent want to choose the device for their job – either receiving budgeted funds to buy a work device of their choice or bringing in a personal one in addition to company-issued devices
• 64 percent said they’d choose a connection over a car, while 40 percent valued the internet more than dating, listening to music and going out with friends. Half would rather loose their wallet or purse than their smartphone.

Right then. Looks like they’ll never move out of home then. Image