Sunday, November 20, 2011

And why are all these points sooo bad?

I found this list on Twitter, but had to post it on my blog because... it applies to me almost 100%.

My husband doesn't get me either...he should have read this list before he married me. Alas, now he is stuck with my 'weird' self, studying patterns in his shirts, comparing the minute differences between Arial and Helvetica, and getting all agitated over it.

Why is this SO bad? I could be cut from the same cloth as everyone else, eating not so tastebud simulating foods and listening to ordinary music. Nah!

Originally here:

50 reasons not to date a graphic designer

1. They are very weird people.

2. There are billions of them in the world, like colors on the screen of your computer.

3. They will analyse conversations in layers.

4. You will spend the day assembling furniture from IKEA.

5. They drink and eat all kinds of weird shit just because they like the packaging.

6. They hate each other.

7. You’ll come out the last out of the movies because you have to see the full list of credits.

8. They cant change a light bulb or without making a sketch.

9. They fuck up all the tables with their cutters.

10. They rather study the paisley pattern on your outfit than listen to what you have to say.

11. They will fill your house with magazines and whatever is out there that has drawings.

12. You never know if it is really an original or a copy.

13. They make collages with your photos.

14. They do not know how to add and subtract, they just understand letters.

15. They idolize people who nobody knows and speak of them as if they were his colleagues.

16. They take pictures almost daily and all are cut in weird shapes.

17. They ask your opinion about everything but they do whatever they want.

18. Everything is left justified, right or center unless they arrive late.

19. They hate Comic Sans with the same passion they love Helvetica.

20. They use iPhone for everything, because everyone has one.

21. You can not decorate the house without consulting them.

22. They steal street signs.

23. Always carry their hands painted with something.

24. They buy dolls unfinished for them to paint.

25. Everything becomes something other than what it really is: cards as tickets, cards as …

26. When arguing, you will be nicknamed like the OSX spinning wheel (not affectionately)

27. Do not know how to dress without consulting the Pantone book.

28. They hate Excel.

29. They read comics.

30. They want to save the world only with a poster.

31. You will spend the day brainstorming.

32. On vacation they will take you to countries that you do not know exist and have no beach.

33. Museums are their second home.

34. They know more positions than the Kamasutra.

35. They can’t go to a restaurant without secretly critiquing the menu design.

36. They listen to music you have never heard of.

37. They can´t cook a normal dish, they always have to experiment with new ingredients.

38. They read rare books: stories of children, Semiotics …

39. When you are going to tell you something, everyone has read it in their facebook and twitter.

40. They have own iPods before you knew they existed.

41. The orgasm they remember is when they heard that Adobe was acquiring Macromedia.

42. They have their own shops just for them and there are the most expensive in the city.

43. They want to spend all the money in the Apple Store.

44. You will never understand their gifts.

45. They see ordinary objects and laugh.

46. You wake up in the middle of the night hearim them screaming “When is the deadline?”

47. They see CMYK and RGB like Neo sees the Matrix.

48. They dream of the day nobody will make a single change to their designs.

49. They rather pay for a font than for a special birthday gift.

50. They are always sleepy because they work 24/7.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Hamilton Island

A rare opportunity fell into my lap (via a dear friend of mine) to experience Hamilton Island, for a work/holiday.

Having been a bit stressed lately, I accepted the offer wholeheartedly, and off we went.

I had heard of Hamilton Island, but knew not what to expect. Apparently it looks like Hawaii and it smells like Hawaii, but it's on the Great Barrier Reef, and no ALOHAs are ever extended as a greeting.

Our flight from Melbourne was approximately three hours long. We arrived to a microscopic airport, which much to my surprise, had no luggage carousel. When the luggage arrived, we descended on it like ants on a pic nick basket. It was a bit of a pandemonium.

The local temperature can be compared to any tropical city in the world...Cartagena, Honolulu, Miami or Denpasar. They all have that common balminess to them, which you experience upon exiting a temperature controlled aircraft.

My hair immediately becomes wiry and out of control in all of these places. I must have been a desert Bedouin in another lifetime, for in this current one I cannot be exposed to humidity. My body rebels against it. I absolutely adore the tropics, but my body does not.

It's the hair first, then the face (pores produce way too much oil), and eventually the local mosquitos detect my presence and descend on me to feast on my internationally renown 'sweet' blood, marking my flesh up with itchy red welts for the next month or so. There must have been one mosquito somewhere who tasted my blood and sent an email to his buddies around the world, telling them to keep a lookout for me. An almost "top ten best blood"...and I'm number one.

My Hamilton Island adventure thus far (thank God all mighty) has been mosquito free. Almost too good to be true, and I have not spritzed one drop of mosquito repellant. Go figure. However, the hair is beyond repair and my face shines from a mile away, I'm sure light can be reflected off it at night to act like a lighthouse.

The island is lush and very green; apparently 75% of the island is bush land and it is intended to remain that way. The tallest buildings are hotels, but they are a far cry from Honolulu's skyscrapers, which allows for the nature to outshine the man made structures.

There is a quaint marina, with the strip of shops and restaurants. The restaurants are beyond expensive, unfortunately, so I have opted to cook most of my meals.

There are no true locals. Most people living here are from other parts of Australia, brought to the island to work in the tourist industry. They are for the most part friendly and helpful, all except one...there always is one, isn't there? The free shuttle bus driver lady...she is a little 'challenging', to say the least. I've attempted to engage her in conversation, to no avail. On the other hand, the night bus driver is super friendly, and plays Elvis music ALL the time. The foreign tourists absolutely love him! His bus can be heard blocks away, because of the roaring laughter from its passengers.

As this is a work holiday, I've been dutifully working wherever I can find free WiFi. My favorite hot spot has been the Reef Lounge, a large open area with comfortable rattan chairs spread throughout. I sit in the same spot, see the same bartender and wave at little kids who wonder in with their folks looking for the bathroom and recognize me. My favorite though, is the daily group of newly arrived Japanese tourists and their guide.

Around 10:00am each morning, a soft spoken young Japanese woman (different each day), brings in about a dozen Japanese couples, and she begins her presentation. I don't understand Japanese, but because I've heard the instructional speech several times so far, I've been able to decipher the word 'restaurant' and 'buggy'. I'm sure she lists the restaurants in the marina, then warns them of the rogue buggies.

There are approximately 1,500 golf buggies on the island - this according to my Elvis aficionado bus driver - and all road rules which apply to regular cars, do also to the gulf buggies. They seem innocent enough, but apparently folks drink quite a bit, and accidents happen. I don't doubt it...I've heard lots of spine chilling screeches of sudden breaks being applied. I know that, if i see one on the road, I run for cover. But, buggies are better than cars, since they don't produce toxic exhaust, I give the idea a great big thumbs up.

Cockatoos are native to Australia, and I think they have found their ideal paradise here on Hamilton Island. They are everywhere! The reception desk girl actually warned us about them, stating that we should always close our balcony doors before leaving our rooms. The cockatoos have been known to wonder into the hotel rooms looking for food and completely trash it. As many as 40 cockatoos have been found in one room, going at pillows, drapes, whatever they can destroy, they do. They are the 'rock stars' of the animal kingdom.

The water surrounding the island is crystal clear, turquoise blue. Breathtaking! The tide goes out toward the evening and families go sea shell scavenging.

I haven't ventured to the actual coral reef yet, because of my unfortunate experience on a boat while in Apollo Bay back in October, but if I find a really big boat, I'll go.

My take on this celebrated island is, that it is what Hawaii (Honolulu) may have been 40 years ago. Hamilton Island is tranquil, natural, quaint and family friendly. It's definitely worth coming back with the kids some day, even if no one says ALOHA to us.