Monday, November 29, 2004

My secret Nachos recipe

Originally uploaded by incitatus.
This is a favourite of the kids, and it's fairly easy and forgivable. Someone asked me about this recipe, so here it is:

1 x can red kidney beans
1/2 x can peeled tomatoes
1 x small onion chopped
1 x teaspoon minced garlic
1 x large bag corn chips
Grated cheese
Paprika, Mexican Chilli powder
Sour cream & guacamole

Heat about tablespoon of oil in a deep frypan. Chop onion, mince garlic, into frypan. Once the onion has gone soft, and before it gets too brown, throw in the can of beans and the tomatoes. Chop the tomatoes roughly in the pan. Sprinkle over maybe one teaspoon of paprika and one of chilli powder. Heat on medium heat, stirring so it doesn't stick. It'll reduce a fair bit, but it should take about 10-15 minutes to become a gluggy mess. Taste the liquid and if the chilli is just too hot, then add some sugar to calm it down.

It shouldn't be too dry or too wet at the end

Spread corn chips on a plate, into a moderate-to-hot oven for about 5 minutes, chips should be slightly crispier. Take the chips out, pour the beans mixture over the chips, sprinkle the grated cheese over the top, back into the over. Couple of minutes to melt the cheese, then top the nachos with sour cream and guacamole.

Not too much sour cream if a late evening meal as it causes little girls to have nightmares.

Everyone should get their own plate and a fork and every person for themselves.

If you like it hotter, you can put the chilli powder in with the onions. It makes a huge difference.

Friday, November 26, 2004

BIG women (parto duo)

I saw the BIG woman outside of work. She's still huge.

Ali and I were at the pub last night for dinner in North Sydney and she was there with a friend. To make her even look bigger, she's chosen a teeny-tiny little friend as well. Even sitting down she looked huge.

I reckon if I was born a big woman, then I'd put myself down for movies and commercials. (Actually I don't want to think about this too hard, it's a very complicated area.) There's got to be a LOT of movie parts where the bloke goes out on a blind date and turns up at the front door of the woman's place. And the door opens...

Instant comedy.

I don't know why I am so fascinated with this.


Huge sigh of relief.

Finally, I have dumped Namezero as my Registrar and have replaced them with DomainMonger. I am still a bit stunned about the trial I went through with the other mob, and I'll tell all in a future post.

This means that my website and email address are back up and operational. Enjoy.

Website :
Email : mic (at)

Monday, November 15, 2004

A Poem by Josephine Lumley

My family loves me, so do God and Jesus and my friends.
I can trust them when I get hurt or lonely
I just ask them or someone in my close family.
I love them and they love me.
They don't forget me.
Josephine is six years old. I don't know where the religion bit comes from, maybe from school. How does a six-year old know you can have a poem that doesn't rhyme?

Friday, November 05, 2004

Concert tickets

Concert tickets
Originally uploaded by incitatus.
Last night was the girls' schools first Performing Arts Festival. Heavily influenced by the school's Principal, who is a choirist herself; and by Charlotte's teacher, who must have danced herself when younger — she is a great choreographer.

It was a great show, Charlotte was in 5 of the items, band, choirs, and dance groups. The choir which sang at the Opera House was superb; Mrs Maclellan has done a wonderful job with them. Charlotte is still a great little dancer, even after being out of the dance school for a few years.

I was a little disappointed with the band. Not the kids themselves. The band is being run by one of those commercial companies that comes in and does everything, rents the instruments, supplies the bandmaster and lessons, etc. So more money ends up coming out of the parent's pockets than out of the Department of Education. Realistically though, I imagine it is the only way a poor school like that can afford to have a band.

It was the Bandmaster that annoyed me. Everyone who gets up on stage knows you must acknowledge the audience. She stood obstinately there with her back turned while people clapped. Very rude!

Josephine was the star of the Stage 1 drama. When she came out and said her first line, "Can I play with you?" and the other kids replied, "No you smell," I commented sotte voce, "Yep, she does." The woman next to me looked at me with absolute horror. I think she got the picture at the end when I was clapping and whistling. Josephine also dances on the weekend, but she didn't want to go in the Stage 1 dancing, as she's a bit beyond the level of all the little kids. Hmmm...

Stupidly, I forgot to take my bloomin' camera, but I did scan in the tickets for posterity. Row A Seats 1 & 2. I don't believe it can ever get better than that.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Predictions in the City

I used to absolutely loathe Sex and the City. Now I merely tolerate it.

Alison likes it, she watches it without fail Monday nights, and I'll tape it for her if she is out. I will watch it with her — I can usually watch it from behind a good book or magazine, looking up only to catch the naughty bits — as it gives us a chance to spend time together and it doesn't really disturb or offend me too much. It used to offend me greatly, particularly when they were showing how bloody stupid men are — sexism of a sort.

I suspect that one of the secrets of the success of the show is the predictability of the storyline. I mean when you can confidently say stuff like, "that dog is gonna get rooted in a second," or "the Huge Chick from 3rd Rock is gonna fall out that window," and have it confirmed for you moments later, it must give you a little victorious feeling. The storylines aren't hideously complicated, and people get a charge out of displaying their obvious intellectual superiority.

It was surprising to see the Huge Chick from 3rd Rock from the Sun. I can't separate her from 3rd Rock, or from The Spy Who Shagged Me, and so found her appearance on Sex rather farcical. Particularly when she started throwing around the Big Word. Maybe that's what the casters/writers/producers wanted, farce. Who knows or cares? It's only television and doesn't mean much in the real world.

And having the show being farce really helps me with the anti-male sexism in it. I'll be glad when the series is finished and Channel 9 can get back to showing re-runs of Survivor - Ulan Bator or Wife-Swapping House-Renovators or whatever.

Monday, November 01, 2004

Three items only

I am not a big fan of shopping, whatever type of shopping is it. It annoys me how archaic it is to vie for a spot at some place with inadequate parking, battle crowds of other disillusioned shoppers, paw the outside of some shrink-wrapped product, wait in line to be served by a poor, unappreciated, underpaid worker, and rush home to greedily unwrap your prize. The reason you cannot complete this all in under five minutes flat is beyond me.

A few Saturdays ago with the little chicks at Blacktown I took them into Big W to buy a packet of wall anchors. Only place in that particular shopping centre where I thought I could get wall anchors was Big W. On the way Charlotte complained about her sandal rubbing and when I checked: big blister. So it was now a pack of wall anchors and a packet of bandaids. The two items were at the exact opposite corners of the store, naturally. So after locating and choosing those two little items from a myriad selection we went to the checkouts. Very busy. Two Express Lanes were open. "3 items or less," said the prominent sign in bold 50cm high letters.

I got into the shortest line, two customers in front of me. The first had four items. Two of them were the same product, so I guess it's easy to make that mistake. I would've been bitterly disappointed if she had 36 of the same item. And a lot of people probably don't understand that word: ITEM.

The next woman in line had eight items. All different. Now four might be close to three, but eight definitely isn't.

Only a little annoyed because in truth up to this point I'd only been waiting for less than a minute. I couldn't help myself though. I raised my eyebrows at Charlotte, motioned with my head towards the "Express Lane" sign and to the woman in front. "How high can you count, sweetheart?" I asked Charlotte.

Charlotte very craftily got the message, and with a big smile replied loudly, "Eight, Dad." Ah, what a wonderful, gorgeous daughter. Life is made for sharing these moments with your children.

I'm sure the woman in front stiffened, but under oath, I couldn't be certain. But what she definitely did do was divide the eight items into two piles of four and gave four of them to her daughter to take through the checkout first. When the register chick had tallied up the first four items, the woman then said, "Paying for both," and the register chick gave her a seen-it-before look and started to run the second pile over the scanner.

And then, bitter payback. The scanner gave that ominous "unknown item" beep. The register chick tried once again to the same response and then dinged the attention bell. The PA blared out the price check. I think the only reason Eight-Item Lady didn't glare triumphantly at me was because she was so annoyed herself with the five-minute wait to determine the item's price.

Twenty minutes entrance to exit! Arrrrgghhh!!

How to comment on Mics Garage

Twice now someone has told me they've had trouble making comments on this Blog. Umm that's two different people, not the same person complaining twice.

After I was got over the shock that there are actually people out there reading this rubbish I decided I should tell both of you how to do it.

Down the bottom of each post is a "x comments" link — x being the number of existing comments. If you click on this link, it expands out to show existing comments. Beneath this there is a "Post a comment" link. If you click on this, you should get a screen with a "Comment Sign In". If you don't want to create a Blogger profile, or are making some inflammatory or abusive comment, then click on the "Or Post Anonymously" link under the "Sign In" button. You don't have to sign in at all, and there is no need to create a Blogger account.

Easy, eh?


A few people have asked what the "Incitatus" thing is all about. It's just my flickr login. No big deal.

Why did I choose the name Incitatus? He was the favoured horse of Caligula, the Roman Emporer with the dodgy brain and the even dodgier Penthouse movie. I just reckon it's cool that this horse was spoilt so much. OK, not cool that people were starving in Ancient Rome and the slaves probably got abused and all the associated bad things. But cool about the concept.

I wonder whether Incitatus appreciated all the attention? I wonder what happened to him when Caligula got the chop? You know when the bad fellah gets it in the end of the movie and there's generally a big Nuremberg-like purge of all his cronies, do you reckon they recognised that Incitatus was just a horse and couldn't really be guilty of anything, or do you reckon that the stable boy who had to clean up his droppings everyday used the opportunity of doing away with him?

Actually I wonder whether it is true at all that Incitatus existed. It may be just one of Suetonius's made-up stories.

Link to Wikipedia article.

In fact the Wikipedia article doesn't mention anything about Penelope, Incitatus's mare and mate. Supposedly, Caligula threw a wedding for Incitatus.

I'm opening this up for discussion. To enter the poll, please go to my main website and make your choice.

Seen through blurred, slitty eyes

I'm dead on my feet today. Even after nine hours of sleep last night.

To summarise my weekend:

Awake at 4:30a on Saturday. Rush to Kensington to be there 5:30. Pack bus and cars. Leave Kenso 6:15a. Travel, travel, travel. Lunch Tamworth around 1:15p. Arrive Armidale Bowling Club around 3p. Unpack, carry gear upstairs to first floor, set up band, sound check, start stressing over music to play. To Armidale depot, quick shower, shave and dress. Back to Bowlo's for gig 6:30p. Play, eat, drink, continue stress about the music and impatiently wait around till 11:30p. Pack up. Carry gear downstairs and pack cars. Back to Armidale depot 12:30p. Couple of very quiet beers till 1a. Lose 1 hour in daily-saving transition. Wake up 5:45a pack up, load up, saddle up. Leave Armidale depot by 6:45. Travel, travel, travel. Lunch Kearsley about 12p. Sunday afternoon traffic back into Sydney. Arrive Kensington depot sometime between 3:30 and 4p, can't be sure of correct time because I'm starting to lose concentration and hence losing track of time. Unload and carry gear upstairs to storeroom. Pack car with personal gear. Car home, whenever. Fall asleep on lounge while waiting for dinner. Dinner, fall asleep on lounge again and then give up and go to bed.

OK I left out the toilet visits — there were a lot of them — and a couple of brief stops on the way up and back. Busy weekend do you think??

What exactly is it about sitting in a car for eight hours that makes you even more tired than when you started out? I think CSIRO should commission a research project on it. I really don't want to be a volunteer subject for it.