“There is meaning even in the mundane. -Something Malouf said.

With just hours remaining until renditions of Auld Lang Syne sing out world-wide, this Hound thinks on the life and times of Otis Ray Redding Jr. An SBS-aired documentary last night showed just how impactful the man’s short, short life was. “Dock of the Bay” is this Hound’s favourite tune of all time, and the man left this world without finishing it, filling it with a meditative whistle before finding the final words, which never came.

This soul man’s story has this Hound thinking with a sense of urgency on the unfinished business that remains (or was not commenced in 2008, albeit a mirthful year). 2009 will be entered with a sense of urgency and task. Life is short. Make plans. Carpe Diem… Remembering to appreciate the value in even the most mundane of things.

The Hound is onto you!

Now playing: I’ve Been Loving You Too Long [Otis Redding]

Dear reader

This is in reply to the delightful person who emailed me last month about my choice of Katharine Hepburn as my avatar. For the information of others, the correspondent wrote with a complaint in regard to my “apparent addiction to such a predictable female consumerist item” (see my post about shoes) and how this is in “contrast to her [Katharine Hepburn's] dislike of such trivial trumped up petty items”. Further, it was suggested that I consider changing my photo to one of Paris Hilton.

Please indulge me while I say a few words in reply.

First, it’s KathArine Hepburn, not KathErine Hepburn.

Second, I hardly think that the term “trumped up” can be applied to an item of clothing. You might want to check your dictionary for the definition.

Third, my choice of Katharine Hepburn was very deliberate. She represents strong will, freedom of opinion and assertiveness, especially in terms of the female voice. In fact, my choosing her was about this blog being a place where I can write anonymously about things that interest me, things that piss me off and about any other experience I’d had that I think will provide some light entertainment to sketchycrew visitors. I’m of the school of thought that women should have a CHOICE in regard to their actions, their views and indeed the clothes they wear. The fact that Katharine Hepburn may or may not have had an interest in shoes is irrelevant.

Fourth, despite the fact that you’ve never met me – for Pete’s sake you don’t even know my real name – you assume to know all about me. You may be astonished to know I have interests outside shoes.

So, in conclusion, I’ll thank you for your feedback, but suggest to you that if you have a burning desire to trawl through web sites and insult their authors, get your own bloody blog and do it there.

Kind regards
Miss Sass

Could it be third time lucky for this Hound?

Mr Multifarity (aka Tasmanian Take III) has re-entered the realm of Hound. Witty, attractive and seemingly available… the feeling has been declared as mutual.

Still, this Hound shall continue to play it cool.

But, gosh – GUSH!

Found here is a matching wit in immoral social commentary, spark, hilarity and non-specific lunacy. Add to that a great respect for what he does (which is conveniently linked to this Hound) and the part of me he brings out. Particularly today’s smile.

This thing is deeper than this sleep-deprived Hound can comprehend today. But this thing is something (and the day continued to be amazing – thank you for the morning sentiment).

The Hound is onto you!

Now playing: Young Turks [Rod] Young hearts, be free tonight… time is one your side.

Is there anything to it? Not one, not two, but three sightings of Mr Stand Out in three days?

This Hound first saw him a year ago, and still knows nothing about him, except for his line of work (and airport location), that he shops alone, looks like a Foo Fighter and drives a ute. That, and that for some reason he Stands Out from the crowd to this Hound.

The first in the series of three was in Borders. Maybe he reads. Maybe he’s even reading this? The second was in Manuka, where, again there was no way to react but with ‘what would I actually even say?’. This Hound has confronted an Upskirter in a major retail chain, but stranger aggression, not affection, is my forte. The third was minutes later in a drive-by: a locked gaze, a dropped jaw … and phantom sightings of the newly discovered vehicle type will subsequentally stalk me on the roads now, I am sure.

The mystery of who Mr Stand Out is, and, after being within a 15m radius twice, what one can even say to him, remains.

Good thing this Hound is a frequent flyer.

The Hound is onto you!

Now playing: Big Me [Foo Fighters]

As much as I love charity organisations, I have issues with the sales people in the streets during any given lunch break. And I’m not talking about The Big Issue (the magazine, not the issue) which has a much more passive sales approach and agreeable commission basis. I am talking about the other bevy of people who just want a moment of your time.

It’s the little dance routines that they do as you approach them. The little hop, the little skip, the little wiggle and the twist followed by the point. It’s also the fact that it often takes many smiles and apologies to convince them you just aren’t interested right now. It’s also the fact that they look deeply offended when you say “Sorry, I am late for an appointment” – whether that’s true or not is another story. It’s also the fact that they…

No wait. Forget all that. It’s purely those little dance routines.

I met this guy last night at a friend’s barbecue. At first he seemed an okay, friendly enough dude, but as the night went on I realised he was a Pretentious Uni Student. I love to hate these people, don’t you? They have opinions about everything, and most of their opinions are idiotic. They like to use big words to try and stun you into thinking they’re a genius. They have such an inflated sense of self that they tend to talk over the top of others, tell boring stories about themselves and generally piss everyone else off. And all the time their ego is telling them how great they’re performing, without one iota of a clue that people are secretly praying for them to choke on a bit of charred steak.

The thing about the guy at last night’s barbecue is that he clearly hadn’t polished his act. He used the word “like” about 5 times per sentence, had trouble articulating his arguments (so the other guests were having a great time trying to work out exactly what he was on about), and his big words were used in all the wrong contexts. Pretentious Uni Students have no self awareness, and certainly never entertain the idea that the people they are talking at (yes at, not with) may also in fact have an education, thoughts, ideas, experiences and intelligence.

So a note to all the Pretentious Uni Students out there: no one thinks you’re hot shit. No one cares about your take on the state of the economy, the environment and third world countries. The simple fact is people are just too polite to throw a bowl of coleslaw over your head.