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Monthly Archives: August 2012

Clover Canyon in the Closet

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Very happy with this little purchase currently winging its way across the oceans from the master cottagers and frottagers, NAP.  Taking La Mamma Trivialista out for her birthday soon so may press it into its debut service.

It’s by Clover Canyon.  Hadn’t heard of them, but liking their work.  Very Penguin-esque home page (tick of approval), and an embarrassment of digi print riches.  So far, what’s not to like?

Sometimes even someone of such historically profligate spending habits as La Trivialista needs a nudge to click “BUY”, particularly in this new, self-imposed era of frugality.  (Take it from me, if you don’t know it already: I’ve twiddled lots of knobs at the Triv Media Control Console, consulted some economic seers and chatted extensively to Signor Seriousimo, a finance lawyer who currently has NOTHING TO DO, and — money-wise — the world is indeed heading down the crapper.)

Anyhow, the nudge came from Ms Whis — thank you Whis, La closest closet confidante.

La resisted the Miu Miu clutch that would have matched perfectly, so some restraint was shown.


The gods said a sunny winter “gods morgen” on my way to the Wordporium today.

It’s been a busy few weeks at the Wordy, but we’re about to send some major words out into the world and then breathe a few kilowatts of sigh in relief.

BiPolar FashMash Disorder

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Now, enough frivolity.  On to serious biz.

There’s still a Hany-sized hole on the Triv TV screen.  Where has the man gone, for gods’ sake?  I know I put him in the Yurt, but that was figurative.

Just to remind you what the hole looks like.

Don Hany, making an immeasurable contribution to the cred of the TV Week Logies.  Srsly, they couldn’t buy this kind of endorsement.

And based on this photo someone needs to give this man a watch contract.

In other serious current affairs, what the hell is Seed up to?

While their kidstuff looks great but is of questionable quality and insanely unjustifiable prices (Boden is superior in all respects) their ladystuff is suffering a serious case of BiPolar FashMash Disorder.  (And they’re not alone in the ward with the unfashionably padded walls.)

One season, charcoal and sack-like with swathes of cheap Chinese jersey, next season some weird acid neon lovechild of J Brand and Katies.  Good gods, fash investor overlords, what are you thinking hiring these people to design for you?  Or do you get good talent then squish the lifeblood out of their creativity by screaming at them to rip off random images from style.com?!?

And said overlords have the cheek to whinge and wail about Wide Brown Land ladyfolk flocking to the interwebs en masse to cover ourselves with better clothes at far better prices.

Grrr.

In other news, does anyone with Junior Cost Centres find themselves saying this as often as La Triv does?:  “Hmm, I’m not sure, we’ll have to Google it.”

I said this to the JCCs — in response to such questions as, “What’s the smallest country in the world?” (though Signor Seriousimo helpfully jumped in with, “Either San Marino or the Vatican” before I could hit the keyboard); “What country steals the most money from its people?”; “Did the Carpathia end up sinking like the Titanic?”; “What makes tears come when you’re sad?”; and finally, “Why when you laugh sometimes does a bit of wee come out?” — approximately 21 times last week.

Boy, back in the golden olden days mothers and fathers must have just had to USE THEIR BRAINS.

And, just ’cause, look at the gorgeous perfection of this mandaroodle (as they are known beneath the dusty rafters).

Remind you of anything?

Yup — Heston’s meat fruits!

What a clever little pom that Heston is, taking inspiration from nature.  And thanks again to Miss A for her cameo appearance and for not making a fuss that I’ve never made her sign a release form.

Oly wrap

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What are the young royals going to do now that the Rolympics (as the male JCC refers to them) are over?

And what are we going to do here beneath the dusty rafters?

The Bolt has generated much excitement and impersonation among the small people.

For the gods’ sakes, look at the guns on the man.  For a sprinter, he’s a man mountain.  Very pleased for our Jamaican cousins.  If each Australian gold medal cost the Wide Brown Land taxpayer $10m, what do you think the huge swag of Jamaican neckwear cost the average Jamaican?  Surely poor old Jamaica’s punched far above its weight — isn’t its GDP only about $10m?

Such is the popularity of the fastest man in the world that La Poocha Trivialista, Diggers, is already being mentally dispatched by the Junior Cost Centres and replaced by a new four-legged friend, to be known as “Bolt”.

Don’t have the heart to tell them this is not entirely original thinking.

And at the close, Poshy showed us she’s still quite the showgirl…

Hats off to any mother of four who can dance in ladyshoes that high without inducing a pelvic floor accident.  Well done Victoria.

And that Lord Coe is quite a handsome devil.

Methinks I read one of his parents is Sri Lankan..?  Which puts him in the Jamie Durie silo of handsomeness, minus the Chippendale past and presumably without the stack heels or green thumbs.

Well done to those United Kingdoms.  Jolly good show.

Great omelettes of the world

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La Triv is a woman of many passions, and jostling for pole position among them would be omelettes.

I tackled my first omelette in Home Ec in Year 7, and never looked back.  Never has a bad word been uttered about an Omeletta Trivialista, except by Nana Joan, who once gently proposed that I fry my onions before installing them in their eggy home.

Will definitely be giving the above spagel, schenken and fontina om a whirl beneath the dusty rafters — thanks Brigitte.

And on every trip to Paris I’ve been meaning to try this fave of LLG

Parisien omelette porn courtesy of Liberty London Girl

And, of course, who could forget The BePonytailed One’s “famous” om from last week?  I’m still yet to grabby me some crabby and bring this to life, but it’s in my near future.

One of La favourite local omelettes is to be gotten at Cafe Zinc in Potts Point.  It’s a very simple scenario of herbs and a lovely cheddar.  Tell Peter and Nigel La Triv sent you (and watch for the blank stare).

Suspect will soon start to sound like Stacey’s mother, Gwen, from Gavin & Stacey.  To quote the Deity Google, “she is a housewife and regularly offers to cook omelettes.”

There could be worse epitaphs.  Might even like the housewife bit — more time to hang beneath the dusty rafters (does that make La sound like a bat?), sweating the small stuff.

Mountain madness

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La Triv loves a digi print.  And a snow-capped mountain.  And is kicking herself she didn’t buy this when, a couple of months ago, Net-a-Porter frottaged up alongside and whispered, “puuuurrrrrrrr-chase…”

Shorts are a great non-non in La Closetta Trivialista.   But, if La could turn back time to around 1988 and recapture the glory days of her knees, these puppies would be whipped waist-ward in double-quick time.

This is the Parisian mothership for both of these lovelies.  I was too scared to go in — Carven clothes are famously TINY.

I know it’s all a bit last season, but La loved that Bally campaign featuring the oh-so-fecund-I’m-the-world’s-best-breastfeeder, MK.

One of La Famiglia Trivialista-Seriousimo’s favourite places to holiday is Zermatt, Switzerland:  mountainous snow-capped vistas as far as the eye can see.  If you’ve not been there and would like to familiarise yourself, grab a Toblerone packet (any excuse) as the Matterhorn, the grand diva of the Zermie montanas, serves as Mt Tobler on that triangular box we love so dearly.

This is Bally on Rodeo Drive.

Signor Seriousimo and I popped in there last year during a little trip Stateside.  Take it from me, the salespeople in those places know their onions.  They cottaged and frottaged up to us like nobody’s business.  They proffered a man’s shirt for Seriousimo’s consideration, going on and on about their amazing new designers, and how their design aesthetic is “classic with a twist” (how original).  The shirt was divine — crisp white cotton with camel leather placket, cuffs and collar.  It was $1800.  We exited politely.  Seriousimo summed it up when he said, “Did they honestly think I looked like a bloke who’d wear a shirt with leather bits?”

If you knew Seriousimo you too would understand how unlikely this equation would be:  Seriousimo + slightly gay Bally shirt = Really Happening.

On reflection, perhaps they didn’t know their onions quite so well.  Unlike me, who made French onion soup on the weekend, complete with gruyere croutons.

Wish I was in Zermatt.

Heaven

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If Google is the Deity, then I guess this — their new HQ in Londra — is Heaven.

How awesome is it?  OMG La Trivialista wishes for 15 less years, 500,000 more brain cells and lashings more tech-savvy coupled with a job offer.

For the purposes of compare and contrast, let’s take a sneak peek at a long-range, contiguous view of the Wordporium.

The eagle-eyed among you may note the yankee doodle flags:  they are for some pod-cheering Olympic spirit.  Those aside, though, I don’t see much difference between the new Londra Googleplex and the Wordporium..?  Do you?

News wrap to come.

Crabby

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If you were a fly on the wall at The Wordporium, you’d occasionally hear a call go up from someone standing at the communal printer.

“Who’s printed MasterChef’s chicken winglets oysters hommous raw veg salad?”

Ah, that would be La.  Printing recipes when I should be wordporing.

Fact is, La Triv finds it very relaxing, in the middle of difficult Wordporium tasks, to take to the Deity Google and sniff out a recipe.  This morning’s was a stir-fried spanner crab omelette on SMH.  Omelettes are very popular beneath the dusty rafters of Palazzo Trivialista, as are all forms of cooked crustaceans (almost without exception).

Stir-fried spanner crab omelet.

It’s by the BePonytailed One, Neil Perry.  And I particularly love his descriptor of this recipe:  “This variation on my famous (my itals, not his) crab omelet is both quick and easy.”  Sheesh, cheffies have some ego, non?

It’s like me saying, “This version of my universally admired self is both flawless and unsurpassable.”

And where are his extra “t” and “e”?  Is this a “program” / “programme” thing?

So now I’m plotting to carve off some time during this evening’s Commuta Trivialista to pop into the fish markets and grabby me some crabby.

And in other news related to the sating of various Triv appetites, here’s the latest permutation of La Coffee Trivialista:

Thankfully my preferred outlet largely serves a bunch of pampered finance types so they’re well-accommodating of fussiness.

The big issues

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It’s scan time here at the Triv Media Control Console.  La Triv’s judicious edit of the past week’s current affairs — with bonus analysis — will save you time and equip you with all you need to know to sound knowledgeable and in-the-loop on the issues that made the world turn this past week.

Oprah

Oprah’s Photographed With Her Hair in its Natural State.  Onya Opes.  Though is this meant to be a hardship shot?  You still look amazing.  No way La Triv would agree to be snapped with her hair au naturel — known beneath the dusty rafters as Shaggy Sheeps Wool Meets Rusty Brillo Pad.

<i>MasterChef</i> judges Gary Mehigan, Matt Preston and George Calombaris.

MasterChef May Move to Melbourne.  These men do much for the profile of pudgy chaps, don’t they?  They may take their tasty caravan to Melbourne.  Or, rather, all get to stay in their home city for the next season.

Wayne Swan hearts The Boss.  Srsly?  OMG.  If this isn’t a desperate, though misplaced, grab for street cred I have no idea what is.  “Last night I woke up with the sheets soakin’ wet and a freight train runnin’ through the middle of my head…”  Do you think Swanny hums this on Budget morning?

By the way, this is a pic of Bruce when he was contemplating a career as a New Jersey public administration academic, just like his antipodean pen pal, one Wayne Swan of Nambour.  Thankfully for us, Bruce chose to follow his musical muse.

Athletes Blame Addiction to Social Media for Poor Olympic Performance.  This is akin to La Triv blaming wallaroos in Wallingup for her weight gain.  Give me a break kids. Own your second place and wear it with pride.  Be grateful the Wide Brown Land taxpayer has generously helped you almost achieve your dream.  And if you no longer wish to follow the long black line, take up dusk photography and give your long-suffering parents back their sleep-ins.

John Hamm’s Growth Voted One of TV’s Top 10 Hiatus Beards.  No, this has nothing to do with him providing a straight shield for a gay man in the northen hemi summer.  Apparently one of our favourite Yurt residents has to shave twice a day when Mad Men’s in production, such is his manliness.  (Not that we ever doubted THAT here at the Console.)  So I guess he too is enjoying being au naturel now that he’s between seasons.

Foot-in-Mitt Disease in the Olympic City.  What has Mitt been smoking?  Or are we all missing the joke?

On the move ... the whale washed up halfway along Newport Beach.

Newport Chainsaw Massacre.  Poor old whale!  V v sad on all fronts, and not a nice scenario for the peeps from the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service to have to take care of.  Here at the Console, we hate to see the felling of a great marine creature.

And that’s a wrap.  Consider yourself armed with all you need to know to cement your status as the most popular conversationalist at soirées and luncheons this weekend.

Ciao.

Little Rebel

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La Trivialista is the real deal.  No mask, no front, no fakery:  the genuine article.  What you see is what you get.

However, La Triv does have two alter egos who bubble up to the superficial surface every now and then.  They are Ranty Pants and Little Rebel.

(If right now this is starting to feel like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, bear with me.)

These alter eegs are related.  Normal pattern is for Ranty Pants to get fired up and Little Rebel to pop out in quick order.

This morning, Ranty Pants’s ire was invoked by the realisation that no citizen of the Harbour City is allowed to take coffee onto a public bus.  Even during morning peak hour, when La needs it the most.  Ranty Pants loves nothing more than to get majorly exercised about the frustrations of Living in a Nanny State.  (Not to be confused with the completely non-Nanny State that is currently Palazzo Trivialista.)

Anyhow — out popped Little Rebel.  And an ingenious solution.

Yep, the old under-the-cape-subterfuge.

Said cape is Paul & Joe Sister, purchased in the last winter northern hemi sales from my friends at NAP.

Paul & Joe Sister 

Little Rebel has two other fave ways to flip the bird at the Nanny State — not wearing a seatbelt in cabs and listening to loud music through earphones.

I know, it’s crazy around these parts.  Someone could get hurt.