Mark bites the metal and steps on the cat

Mark and Hellas are getting engaged. Print it in the papers. Shout it from the roof tops. Put it on your blog. It's official. But just announcing it like this doesn't begin to do it justice. This event has been building up for years. Of course, we have known for some time we would end up together. However, in the last six months things have really started to cook.

In November, we went to Ron J. Crisp, jeweler on the third floor of the Dymocks building on George Street. Hellas described (in painstaking detail) the kind of engagement ring that she wanted. Ron told us that he would make whatever we wanted and not to worry. Five days later Ron told me that he had found our diamond, better than we had expected and under budget - a good deal. The diamond would be on the next plane out of Antwerp. The ring would be ready before Christmas. I tried throwing Hellas off the scent by telling her that the diamond was coming by ship and that it would be here after Christmas. But how was I going to propose?

I had thought about it many times. I could go all out and do something big and spectacular. But I didn't want to do something cliche and impersonal. I wanted it to be relevant and meaningful to us. I decided that I would do all of the things that Hellas always complained I never did. Believe me, it was quite a list! I decided that I would make the day unspectacular but private and genuine - I would do it at home. My mum spends weekends away, so Hellas and I usually have the house to ourselves. I decided that I would do the unthinkable: I would cook something. Now I know that this may sound unremarkable to most people, but keep in mind that all I know how to make is toast and tea. That's it. I'm not joking. The idea of me using knives and a stove is frightening. I received a call from Ron on Wednesday 13 December saying that the ring would be ready on the coming Tuesday. So Friday 15th was out. That left one Friday before Christmas, the 22nd. The week beginning Monday 18, I had to do a Matlab course at uni. Thinking ahead, I prepared Hellas by telling her that I had class from 9am-5.30pm every day. This would give me time to prepare things on Friday while Hellas would be at work and surprise her when she came over. The plan was coming together nicely. Mind you, the workshop really went from 10.30am-12.30pm. Tuesday came and I picked up the ring. I noticed that the edges didn't have little bumps, called milling. Ron told me that he could do it while I waited. I wanted to check with Hellas just to make sure. That night, I had a conversation with Hellas about what my wedding band would look like:
Mark: "Will it match your engagement ring?"
Hellas: "You mean the milling?"
Jackpot! "Yeah, um, tell me about that - what does it look like?" And Hellas spilt the beans. The following day I was back at the Dymocks building. Ron fixed the ring as I waited, and I took the ring home. "How was your course today babe?" "Good thanks." ;)

That night, my mum dropped the bombshell. She wouldn't be leaving until Saturday lunch time. "Why not?" "I've got things to do." Shit. Friday's out. What could I do? I've got a ring sitting in my draw. I waited till Hellas went home and started hatching another devious plan. I would wait until my mum left and go ahead with my original plan, but on Saturday 23rd at luch time. I told Hellas that after my course I would stay home on Friday and do some PhD work, and that I would get her on Saturday and take her out for lunch. She believed my lies. Fantastic! Friday came and someone from Hellas' work was leaving. We were invited to Friday night farewell drinks. But I had imaginary uni work to do. I bitched and moaned about going, but there was no getting out of it. I still had to keep the deception believable. We went in Hellas' car. I offered to be the designated driver. She got drunk (on one Midori) so I took her home and drove to my house in her car. I now had both cars. Things were coming together very nicely. I told Hellas that I'd call her when I woke up.

I woke up at 8 o'clock on Saturday morning, got changed and went to the shops. I bought 5 souvlakia, 3 tomatoes, 2 cucumbers, a Spanish onion, pesto, chocolate ice cream, fudge, bread, and tealight candles. Shit. I couldn't find any banana gelato. They only had lime gelato. Who the fuck eats lime gelato? I started freaking out. In a moment of inspiration, I grabbed a box of 10 banana Paddlepops. On the way out, I grabbed a bunch of flowers from the florist too. I sped home and hid the groceries in the draws of my desk. The time was 9.35am. Now all I had to do was wait for my mum to come home and get her out fast. She came home at 10.15. Plenty of time. At 10.30am, I called Hellas and put on a sleepy voice: "I just woke up babe *yawn* pick you up at 12:30-1pm, ok? Bye." I thought that I should suss my mum out, just to be safe. "Mum, I'm leaving at 12.30." "I'll probably still be around then." WHAT? "I need to fix the bed and vacuum the house." WHAT? She started washing the dishes. I started sweating. I had to act, now. I went into her bed room and fixed the bed. I also tidied my own bed. Then I sat on the computer and created a playlist of Hellas' favourite romantic songs. "Mark, did you fix the bed?" My mum was staring at me in disbelief. I asked if she needed help with anything else. Vacuuming! I got the vacuum cleaner from the laundry. As I was searching for a power point, I realised that I didn't have the faintest idea of what I was doing. Lets just say that I managed to plug it in, then what? How would I turn it on? "Are you trying to get rid of me, Mark?" "Don't be silly, mum." Get out now! She finished her chores and was out the door by 12 with a confused look on her face. It was time to start preparing.

I leapt out of my chair, cleared the small table in the backyard and brought it inside. I placed the food in the right places, chopped the tomatoes and onion, prepared the Greek salad. I placed candles down the hallway and scattered flowers down the hallway, too. Everything was ready.

I picked Hellas up and pretended to be super stressed out about my work. "I'm in a foul mood." I swore at other drivers and snapped at Hellas: "Are you trying to piss me off?" She went quiet, and later told me that she nearly cried. Maybe I went a little overboard. I wanted to throw her off the scent. I did. "I forgot my wallet. I'll stop at home for two seconds and get it." I went inside, lit the candles, and went back outside. "I can't find my wallet. We're not going anywhere. Come in, or stay in the car. I don't care." As Hellas walked up the stairs, no doubt questioning my sanity, I clicked Play and her song began. As she stepped inside the front door, she smiled. She saw the candles and heard her song. I led her in and sat her down. She loved her flowers. I made bruschetta and put the souvlakia to cook. We drank wine and finished the bruschetta. Soon the souvlakia were ready., and we had them with Greek salad. I prepared her favourite dessert: banana split. I had bought special tear-shaped bowls, sliced bananas down the middle, and added chocolate ice cream and banana Paddlepop sliced off the bone paddlepop stick. Hellas couldn't believe it. She thought it was a dream. She had been waiting so long for everything. It was then that I asked her. She couldn't respond. She was wearing the ring but hadn't said yes. I asked her just to make sure. "Yes."

Becoming Greek(er)

You know, I've always considered myself to be Greek. I've never called myself Australian. I'm not sure why. Of course, when you're a kid, you don't really think about these sorts of things. But I remember asking myself one day "if I had to play for a national soccer team, would I play for Australia or Greece?" - a question that I took very seriously. "Of course you'd play for Greece," my sister reassured me. She was right, too. However, having grown up in Australia, some things about me just weren't quite right. I could never put my finger on it, but there was always something there, something you can't name, but can feel. I'm going to call it unGreekness. Now I know what you're thinking: surely that can't be right, not Mark, this must be a mistake. But alas, it is the truth. There have always been a few things about me that have been fundamentally unGreek. The things that I am talking about may seem insignificant or trivial to a xeno, but to a Greek, make that a true Greek, they are of unfathomable importance. By no means was I the only one lacking crucial Greek ingredients. Having attended a Greek highschool I can tell you that there are many unGreeks. But you should not despair, for there is hope. I am living proof. Keep reading my Australian friends, and Greeks, you too will benefit from the reminders that lie ahead. I invite you all on a journey with me as I take you through Marko's guide to becoming Greeker.

1. Now, as you probably know, my girlfriend Hellas and I have been together for a little over 5 years. If, my friends, you feel any doubt (no matter how small) re: your Greekness, the first step, your main goal, your number one priority, your goal in life is... to go out and find yourself a woman. Not just any woman. Just any woman will not do. You need a hot woman. You need a fast woman. You need a passion woman. You need an emotion woman. You need a Greek woman. And they don't come any Greeker than a woman named Hellas. She is Greece! Once you've got one, move on to step 2.
   
   
2. If you're really gonna be Greek, you're gonna need to learn how to eat. Don't start telling me you know how to eat already. You don't. Do you eat souvlaki (do not call it meat on a stick)? Do you eat taramosalata (do not call it pink fish egg dip)? Do you eat tzatziki (do not call it garlic sauce)? Do you eat olives? Do you eat feta cheese? Do you eat octopus? Is your table covered with a tablecloth? Do you marinate everything with lemon, garlic, olive oil and oregano? Do you eat bread with every meal? I'm not talking about Tip Top, I mean real bread. Do you tear the bread with your hands? Do you put the bread in your food? Do you eat yoghurt? Ski doesn't count, I mean real yoghurt? Do you eat bougatsa?
   If you answered "No" to any of the above questions read very carefully: you do not know how to eat. But don't lose heart. There is hope. Remember that woman you went out and got in Step 1? Well, she will slowly make you try all of the foods that you don't eat. Before you know it, you will be eating tarama, olives and tzatziki like a Greek native. It's a good thing, it will put hair on your chest. Once you've given up the battered savs and chiko rolls, move on to step 3.
   
   
3. Ok, up to this point it's been pretty easy. Finding a woman isn't the hardest thing in the world, and learning to eat is a simple behaviour modification exercise. However, this next step is the hardest of all. It is so difficult that I have broken it down into subsections. It is difficult because it is so internalised by all Greeks that it may be difficult for unGreeks to learn. As an overall characteristic of Greekness, I will call it manner. The first element (or subsection) of Greek manner is learning to use a complex system of hand gestures to complement every word that is coming out of your mouth. These movements should be sudden, far reaching, and occurring frequently. Two Greek people in a tight space such as an elevator will not speak to each other because there isn't sufficient arm room. So far, it has taken me about six hours to type up this post exactly because I am trying to gesture with my arms while typing. This skill is very difficult to master. My advice is to try to observe Greek people while they are talking and monitor their hand gestures closely. It is advisable that you find a Greek person speaking on a phone as they will most certainly be gesturing but won't be moving about too much, giving you time to take down notes.
   
   The second element of Greek manner is intonation. I can not emphasise how important intonation is. Whenever you are mad, excited, happy, proud, worried, confused, hungry, full, disgusted, or turned on, there is a corresponding Greek intonation that must be followed very strictly.
   
   The final element that will be described in this guide is learning the many strange Greek sayings. Greek has an idiom for everything. While there are too many to list here, I will provide you with a few of my favourites, translated into English, accompanied by English descriptions. I hope this guide has been helpful to you. The take home message is that it's never too late, no matter how Australian you are. Together we can make the world a Greeker place.

• at the devil's mum - a place far away
• your bad weather - I don't care much for your opinions or wants
• three are singing, two are dancing - something's not right / that's insane
  
• it fucks - I really like it / I think it's really good
• like a vagina hat - not feeling the best
• I come from the city, and at the mountain cinnamon - we're having trouble communicating
• as much as the goat pees - a little bit
• it's raining over there - this guy's got no clue
• you explode a donkey - you're quite challenging to communicate with
• I shat myself - I couldn't care less
• chairlegs are falling - it's raining heavily
• to bite the metal - to fall in love
• you stepped on the cat - you made an error
• devil black - I can't believe it
• the bad time's - not good / jinxed / evil
  
• the prostitute's baluster - chaos / havoc
• I'll fart on your balls - I don't like you much / I may hurt you
• I'll break you at wood - I will bash you
• you've taken a lot of air - you're speaking disrespectful
  

Contact Marko

Over the past few days, I have been communicating with my cousin Markos Ntasios from Thessaloniki using Google Talk and Skype. This is (a) very exciting and (b) a little bit hard to set up. So I have decided to write a guide in Greek, explaining how to contact me in different ways, so that other cousins will have an easier time doing this. For those of you who don't read Greek, you can either skip this post or learn Greek and read it. Here goes...

Λοιπον, υπαρχουν διαφορους τροπους για να επικοινωνητε μαζι μου. Το πρωτο και πιο ευκολο ειναι το email. Εχω μερικα διαφορα email, αλλα ολα φτανουν στο Gmail, που προτιμω. Το email μου ειναι:
Επισης, μπορειτε να με βρειτε στο chat. Για chat, χρησιμοποιο το Google Talk. Ειναι ενα πολυ μικρο, απλο και καλο προγραμμα. Για chat ειναι το the best. Μπορειτε να με βρειτε στο Google Talk με το ιδιο email, δηλαδη του Gmail.

Πρεπει να σας πω μερικα πραγματα για την διαφορα ωρας. Η Ελλαδα ειναι 9 ωρες πισω απο την Αυστραλια, η αν ειναι πιο ευκολο για σας, η Αυστραλια ειναι 9 ωρες μπροστα. Δηλαδη, οταν ειναι 12 μεσανυχτα στην Ελλαδα ειναι 9 το πρωι εδω. Οταν ειναι 12 μεσημερι στην Ελλαδα ειναι 9 το βραδυ εδω.

Τωρα, ειμαι στο πανεπιστημιο καθε μερα απο της 8:30 π.μ. μεχρι 4:30 μ.μ. (ωρα Αυστραλιας). Οταν ειμαι στο πανεπιστημιο, το laptop (και το Google Talk) δουλευει ασταματητα, δηλαδη μπορειτε να με βρειτε πολυ ευκολα. Απο της 5-9 μ.μ. συνηθως δεν ειμαι στο κομπιουτερ. Μετα της 9, μπορει να δουλευω στο σπιτι (στο internet) μεχρι της 12 τα μεσανυχτα.

Ενας τριτος τροπος επικοινωνιας ειναι το Skype. To Skype ειναι ενα προγραμμα που σε αφηνει να τηλεφωνας αλλο κομπιουτερ δωρεαν. Ομως, για να μιλας ενοειται οτι χρειαζεσαι μικροφωνο (Μαρκο, σε εσενα μιλαω Πηρε το παιδι, να μη τον κατηγορω αδικα). Εχω παρει ενα Logitech Internet Chat Headset που εχει και μικροφωνο και ακουστικα μαζι. Αν θελετε να μιλατε μεσο internet αξιζει να παρετε κατι παρομοιο με αυτο. Μπορειτε να με βρειτε στο Skype, με το κανονικο ονομα μου: Mark Antoniou.

Ενας τελευταιος τροπος επικοινωνιας ειναι το video chat αλλα δεν εχω web camera. Ας το αφησουμε αυτο για τωρα. 05/12/2006 Εχω αγορασει μια Logitech QuickCam Pro 4000. Τωρα μπορειτε να μιλατε μαζι μου και να με βλεπετε! Επισης αν παρετε κι εσεις μια web cam θα μπορω κι εγω να σας βλεπω. Για να βλεπωμαστε, μπορειτε να με βρειτε στο Skype, με το κανονικο ονομα μου: Mark Antoniou.

Ελπιζω να σας εχω βοηθησει. Αν εχετε καμια ερωτηση, αφιστε το στα Comments (λιγο πιο κατω).

Zotero, to know you is to love you

This is a guide for installing and setting up Zotero. This is quite possibly the best piece of software, ever. Sit down, take a deep breath and keep reading.

As a PhD student, I spend most of my time searching for, reading, organising, and citing journal articles. Zotero is a free open source citation/reference/bibliography manager. It is a Firefox 2.0 (or later) extension. This means that (a) it's free, (b) it's small (and therefore fast), and (c) you need Firefox to use it. And, it wipes the floor with Endnote.

Now I know what you're all thinking: "Oh, I can't be bothered re-entering all of my references into a new program. I've been using Endnote for years. I've got 200 references in Endnote. It crashes, it's shit, I hate it, but I've taken a library course on it and invested hours in entering references into it. Blah blah blah."

"Why is Zotero better than Endnote?" I hear you ask. Well due to my 10,000 word blog post limit I will keep it brief:

1. It's a Firefox extension, not a program. You never have to leave the browser, which is where you find references, right?;
2. If it recognises a reference in any webpage, one click on the Zotero icon saves the reference (title, author, year, keywords, abstract - whatever) to your library. Here's a list of sites that Zotero supports;
3. In the case that it doesn't recognise a reference, you can download the citation in any of these formats: MODS, Bib Tex, MARC, RDF, RIS, Refer, BiblX, as Zotero recognises all of them! After the download, it takes literally two clicks to import - never copy and paste field-by-field ever again. Never worry about connection or filter files ever again;
   
4. You can organise your references in folders, smart lists (according to criteria), add tags (thank you Lord);
5. You can attach your references to files, links, images, entire web sites - whatever;
6. You can search-as-you-type through your entire library - instant search results;
7. Zotero stores everything on your computer in a subdirectory of your Firefox profile directory, so Zotero can be used offline as well;
8. You can format references in APA, MLA and more styles are coming;
   
9. You can export your library into the formats mentioned above, including the Zotero-native RDF format. This means that you can back up your library at any time and sync it across computers (it gets better and better - I know);
10. You can generate reference lists for any selection of files in your library and output to a RTF or HTML file, copy straight to the clipboard, or print the reference list directly (this is too much, I need to lie down).

The only thing it doesn't do, yet, is integrate directly into your word processor. When it will integrate, in future versions, it will be compatible with more than just MS Word (thank you again Lord).

By now, you should know that you want it. I'm going to assume that you can install Firefox and Zotero on your own - so I'm gonna skip this step. The Zotero homepage has a user guide and FAQ, not that you'll need it. Do you want to know why? Because you can use this software without needing to do a course at the library. It will make sense from the minute you install it because things are where you would expect them to be!

However, importing your Endnote library into Zotero isn't as transparent as it should be. This is of course Endnote's fault, but I refuse to get political. I have put together this foolproof guide below. Follow it religiously.

Importing your Endnote library into Zotero takes about 30 seconds. This is what you do:

1. Download this file and save it to your Styles folder in your Endnote directory which is probably here C:\Program Files\EndNote #\Styles where # = your version number of Endnote.
2. Open your Endnote library in Endnote, and select all of your references (Ctrl+A). Click on the pull-down menu that lets you select the reference format and click Select another style.
3. Scroll to and click on the reference style: Bibtex Export.
4. Click File|Export and export your references to the desktop.
   
5. Import this file into Zotero by clicking on the icon of a cog and selecting this .txt file. That's it. Uninstall Endnote and dance around the office.
   

Useful links:
http://www.mozilla.com/en-US/firefox/
http://www.zotero.org/
ftp://support.isiresearchsoft.com/pub/bibtex/bibtex_export.ens
http://roslidaud.blogspot.com/2006/09/convert-endnote-to-bibtex.html

Confirmed at last! Confirmed at last! Thank God Almighty, I'm confirmed at last!

The day was 3 November. It was a Friday. The time was 11am. The place was the the far side of campus, just past the devil's mum. My Confirmation of Candidature had come.

After my admittedly nervous 17-minute presentation, and an agonising 30-minute wait outside, I fumbled my way through an hour of questions from the panel and came out of it confirmed (pending minor revisions - which apparently almost everyone must do). Shaken and somewhat relieved, I returned to my desk and started spreading the news.

So, what's a Confirmation of Candidature? Well, all research students must complete their Confirmation of Candidature within their first year - it's sort of a probationary period. I've been enrolled for 8 months, and it's good to get it out of the way. Apparently it only gets worse from here. *sigh*

Markos Wedding Videography

On Sunday 1st October 2006 I shot my first wedding. Using my trusty Panasonic PV-GS400 and tripod, I filmed at both houses, the church, the photography session and the reception. I ended up with 2 hours and 40 minutes of raw footage, which I will edit and make pretty.

I am available for weddings, engagements, christenings, birthdays, graduations, births and other social functions. To make a booking, leave the event date and details in the comments section.

Oktoberfest

Well, what an experience! We've just come home from the annual Oktoberfest celebration held at Fairfield showground. What an adventure! Hellas and I used our '$3 off tokens' to get tickets (thank you mum) and went inside for a traditional German lunch.


On the way to the food stalls we passed all things German: men in leiderhosen wearing hats with feathers and colourful pins, cuckoo clocks, sombreros, wigs, plastic boobs and bums, pitchforks, a Vietnamese maseus, medieval knights, jesters, a kebab stall, a man wearing a giant condom on his head, spray on tattoos and A LOT of pissed Aussies. I tell you, there's just something about German culture that really gets me going. But then I saw something that made me really angry. Something that has no place at the Oktoberfest - nothing to do with German culture at all. I'm talking about showbags.

Showbags are not German. They have nothing to do with beer drinking or dancing. They should stay where they belong. They should stay at the Easter show. If they don't, then they will lose all their meaning.


Hellas had a bratwurst roll (a fried sausage) with tomato sauce and mustard, and I had a pork knuckle (a fried pig's leg) with sauerkraut (cabbage with lemon, also fried). We also shared a langosh with sour cream (basically it's deep-fried, garlic-flavoured bread). We didn't have any beer, much to the delight of all Australians under the giant tent. Instead we had two Cokes (also deep fried).


After we finished eating, we started doing laps of the showground. I bought Hellas a gingerbread heart that said "My Sweetie" on it. I didn't get a chance to take a picture of it because she ate it. It was quite big too. Maybe next year...

Grandmas and Grandpas

Yesterday as we were talking, Hellas came up with a valuable insight: "The way we're going, we'll be grandmas and grandpas by the time we have grandchildren." Indeed.

Greece come second in FIBA Basketball World Championship 2006

The Greek basketball team finished in second place in the FIBA Basketball World Championship. Along the way, Greece defeated Qatar, Lithuania, Australia, Brazil, Turkey, China, France and America. The 101-95 semifinal victory over the Americans was the greatest moment in Greek basketball history. The Greeks beat the Americans at their own game, outshooting them from the field and outhustling them in defence. I am sure that everyone watching (and not watching) loved every minute of it.

After the final buzzer, the Greek players danced in a circle on the halfway line, while American journalists quickly played down the loss in their online sports sections. One group of reporters who weren't playing down the result were the Greek news. The match was the top story of the day, and it took up 40 minutes of the 1-hour time slot. Who cares about news, stocks and weather when Greece beats America? In Greece, people took to the streets, waving their flags and sounding their horns in mass celebrations all around the country. I am sure that the Greek team will be welcomed by thousands of fans upon their return home. Oh yeah, Spain won the final (but they smell).

Greek coffee fever sweeps the MARCS lab

There have been some changes in the MARCS lab recently. No longer must MARCists live in bondage - the bondage of consumption of poor quality coffee. No longer need MARCSists live without access to Greek coffee-making facilities. Living snuggly in my pantry filing draw are:

• ένα μπρίκι (a briki)
• ένα φλυτζάνι (a flitzani)
• Ελληνικός καφές (Greek coffee)
• ένα ηλεκτρικό μάτι (an electric hotplate)

So I implore you all. Remove your Nescafe shackles. Throw down your coffee mugs. Cast aside your plungers. There is a better way. Take up your flitzania. Grab a briki with your free hand. Life is too short for bad coffee.

The carrot-cutter says "Bye bye CARD"

Yesterday Hellas made her famous stir fry for dunch¹. I was put in charge of peeling and cutting a carrot. By the time I had finished my carrot task, Hellas was filling the wok with a yellowish liquid that bubbled and sizzled. A quick search in Wikipedia suggested that it was probably oil. Since my carrot-cutting services were no longer required, I decided to make the most of my time and clean my room. I rearranged some furniture with the aim of maximising space, and threw out a lot of things that I don't use any more. It is amazinng how things can gather up without you noticing. I threw out a lot of things - papers, books, folders, toys that I had bought when I was working for CARD. I also took down my Therapist of the Month poster and my thank you cards from my kiddies' families.

The Center for Autism and Related Disorders (CARD) is an organisation that provides Applied Behaviour Analysis (ABA) therapy to children diagnosed with disorders that are on the autism spectrum. I worked there for three and a half years, first as a junior therapist and then as a senior therapist. It was a great experience and I enjoyed my time there immensely. I miss the kids that I worked with, and I try to keep in touch with their families. It is really quite a special feeling to teach a young boy to produce his first sound. My time at CARD was filled with many little successes like this - first bike ride, first hair cut, first day at school. I really loved working for CARD and gave it everything I had - I was a damn good therapist. When I received an offer to study at MARCS I knew that my time working at CARD would soon be coming to an end. I reduced my hours to three days per week, then two, then one. I resigned from CARD in May of this year to focus on my PhD. Looking back, I know I made the right decision. Doing a PhD takes up all of your time (just ask Hellas), and it would not have been fair to my kids to show up for therapy sessions when my mind was not 100 per cent on the job. I don't plan on ever going back to ABA, but I'm glad that I did it when I did. Bye bye CARD.

¹dunch is new word formed by combining 'lunch' + 'dinner.' You are having dunch when Hellas starts cooking at 2:30pm and you end up eating at 4:30. I realise that brunch combines 'breakfast' + 'lunch', and that using the same approach I should probably call dunch 'linner', but that just sounds stupid.

Mark's MARCS Spot the Difference Challenge

The survivors of last weeks Mark's MARCS Mensa-sucks Challenge go at it again in a spot-the-difference duel. 22 subtle differences exist in the two pictures. Will a nonnative English speaker triumph? I dunno.

1. Hellas 21
2. Damien 21
   
3. Mark 19
   

Mark's MARCS Mensa-sucks Challenge

The gauntlet has been thrown down. MARCSists have been pitted against each other in a battle of wits. The winner will be showered with praise, the loser will be taunted and booed until my throat is sore. Here are the current standings:

1. Thomas (Rikke's husband) 31
   
2. Michael 30
3. Christa's sister 30
   
4. Damien 29
5. Christa's sister's husband 28
   
6. Hellas 25
7. Christa 24
8. Rikke 24
   
9. Iris 23
10. Andrew (Christa's fiance) 22
11. Mark 22
12. Christa's other sister and her fiance 16
13. Christa's mum (and everyone at her work) 15
    

Hellas' Birthday

Today is my baby's birthday. Yesterday, friends and work people gathered at our gracious hosts' (Peter and Marita) house in St. Clair. In true Greek style, we had mountains of food left over, which will feed the families of all who attended for the next few weeks.

I was in charge of the birthday cake purchase which is a pretty big responsibility, if you know what I mean. Thankfully, everyone loved it and ate it up quickly.


That's me with the cheesy grin, getting a kiss for my troubles.

From left to right: Thomas, Hellas, Michael, Annabelle, Monika and Rebecca.

From left to right: Nevine, Hellas, Jemima, Helen and Lisa.

Scenes from a servo

This morning on the way to the MARCS labs, I stopped at the BP to fill up. I try to fill up on Tuesdays because petrol prices usually go up on Wednesdays. So I parked next to the pump and filled up. The total was just under $55. I reached into my jacket pocket but couldn't feel any wallet. I tried my other jacket pocket, jeans, front, back. Nothing. I opened the car door and bent down. The floor was clean. There was nothing under the seat either. I started to panic. I went through my pockets again. Still nothing. What's the time? 9:03. Shit. I started sweating. Hellas must already be at work. What am I going to do? I tried to think clearly. It would take me over an hour to walk home and over an hour to come back.

I started the car and rolled away from the petrol pump. I stopped just outside of the service station store doors. I took a step towards them. What should I do? Tell the service station attendant that I don't have my wallet? The service station was packed. I'd look like the biggest dickhead in front of all of the people. I took a step back towards my car. I grabbed my mobile. Who can I call? 9:05. No one. Everyone is at work. They say that you should have a mobile in case of emergencies. Well here's an emergency. What good is the mobile? Maybe I could sell it? No. I thought about calling Con. Maybe he's not working today? Yeah, Con will save me! Phonebook>C>scroll>there he is! SEND. Switched off or unavailable. Shit. Try again. Before the phone had a chance to ring (or not ring), I looked back at the pumps, and on the floor I saw a black rectangle. I snapped the phone shut and paced over to the pumps. It was my wallet!



I picked it up. It had tyre marks across it. I put it in my pocket. I brushed my hair back. I composed myself, went inside and paid for my petrol... with style.

Italy "win" FIFA World Cup

Yes it's true (unfortunately). Italy have been declared champions of the 2006 FIFA World Cup after defeating France 1-1 (5-3 on penalties). French player Zinedine Zidane was sent off with about 10 minutes left on the clock in the second half of extra time. After having his shirt pulled, Zidane (the head- butter) exchanged words with Materazzi (the headbuttee). I'm sure that Materazzi must have said something extremely offensive for Zidane to react the way he did. Zidane struck Materazzi in the chest with his bald head, and Materazzi fell to the floor clutching his sternum as though he had been shot.

Totalbet have Materazzi as a strong favourite to win the 2007 Oscar in the category of Best Performance by a Μαλακισμένο Ζώον. However, Materazzi's acting was only the latest in a string of great performances by the Italians in their World Cup campaign, which was filled with brilliant dramatic performances by players feigning injury. While Materazzi is receiving all the attention and numerous plaudits, other Italian players are also worthy of having their acting abilities recognised including: Grosso for his wonderful impersonation of a sniper victim vs Australia, Totti for falling whenever an opposing defender was in the same half, and Camoranesi for being the first player to dive in the team bus before it had arrived at the stadium.

Despite the Italian players' constant diving and unfair play throughout the tournament, they are champions. However, you have to wonder if they really feel that they deserved to win. Do they feel that they are worthy champions? It's an important question. Take Greece, for example. All Greek people were are proud of the Greek national team for winning Euro 2004. Along the way, the Greeks were rolemodels for everbody watching, in terms of teamwork, sportsmanship, and fairness. Each win was a clear win, leaving no doubt or stale taste in the mouths of those watching. In contrast, the Italian World Cup win was more like a silent fart - it started off slowly and quietly, but by the end it stunk - or similarly, the US presidential election of 2000 where the victory was handed to one of the two contenders.

Forza Italia!

FIFA World Cup 2006

The World Cup is about to begin. I'm trying to stay awake. I'm sleepy. I'm tired. I'm sleepy. It finishes on 9 July. That's a lot of lost sleep. That's what you get for living on the arse end of the world.

Already, today has been a long day. But... I love the World Cup. I think it's great. So many great players and teams in the same place at the same time. There is nothing else like it. I have been looking forward to it for months. I'm rambling aren't I?

Tonight, Germany will play Costa Rica in the opening match. I think they will win. My prediction is 2-0 Germany. That's one of the things I love about soccer (pardon me football). I love that anything can happen, and any team can beat any other on a given day. There is no other sport like it (maybe futsal).

And so begins a month of insomnia, puffy bags under eyes, and walking around in pyjamas at lunchtime while telling people to "talk softer."

My Surprise Birthday Party

I had the most amazing day today. Hellas told me that we were going for a walk in a (sort of) nearby park. I kept complaining that I was starving, but she insisted that I go with her and do something romantic for a change, and that we would eat later. What's more, she drove us to the park using a strangely long and "scenic" route. We arrived at the park at half past one, and I was feeling sick from hunger. I was keen to get out of there quickly and get myself a large meal, maybe a yeeros. As we walked down the winding path, I thought I had spotted a familiar face sitting at a nearby picnic area. I was certain that it was none other than Ploma. As we approached, I saw a few other famliar faces. I saw Platyrraho, Jevat, Kotsidi, John, my mum. "Is that your dad?" I felt strange, betrayed. Why would my friends be here without me? Why was I not invited? Then I heard the words that sent my head spinning. "Surprise."


As I shook their hands and kissed their cheeks, I felt a daze wash over me. "What's going on?" "How did this happen?" Well, over the past week, Hellas had been calling, TXTing, emailing, sending out pingeons to all of my friends. She had been sneakily stealing friends' phone numbers from my mobile phone when my back was turned. She would make phone calls when I was in the shower or at soccer training. Incredibly, these are people that I speak with every day. And still, I had no idea that anything had been planned. Such was the brilliance and cunning involved in this secret birthday plan. Diabolical.


And so here it is, my whole world (sort of) under a shelter. Friends from school, ex-neighbours, their partners, and the oldies (shh - don't tell them). With so many wonderful people in the one place at the one time, you can't help but feel special.


And here she is, the one who made it all possible. I love her more than words can describe. My baby. Thank you for the most incredible day of my life.

Australia 1 - Greece 0 [Part 2]

This is Con, Hellas and me (in the middle) before the game, when a lady stopped us and asked for our photograph while we were walking down the street.

Australia 1 - Greece 0

On Thursday 25 May 2006, I went to Melbourne to watch Australia v Greece in the football. While Greece lost the match (and didn't play really well at all) I had a great time with Hellas and my friend Con. Memorable moments included Con singing the national anthem while we walked down the street, and a lady asking to photograph us. The following pictures are from that night.

Photos coming soon

I am in the process of sorting out my photo collection, and will post my photos online as soon as they are ready... stay tuned.

Welcome to Markos blog

Hi! Welcome to my blog. My name is Mark Antoniou. I am a PhD student at the University of Western Sydney in Australia. I study cross-language speech perception at MARCS Auditory Laboratories. When I'm not studying I like to play and watch soccer (recently renamed 'football' in Australia). I also coach a team of Under 6 boys and a girl. So far they haven't lost a match, and usually win by good margin. Today is actually my birthday (well not now since it's past midnight) so I decided that I would finally create my own blog - which I've been meaning to do for a while. So, once again welcome, and I hope you like it here.