Are You Blind, Ref?

A few months back Trixy managed to make me choke on my coffee when he told me he had brought season tickets to the Sydney Swans. Tonight was the first match.

The Sydney Swans are the only team in NSW that plays in the AFL (Australian Football League aka Aussie Rules). Victoria has loads of teams, South Australia and Western Australia have two teams and Queensland have one team, I think. Anyway, it’s a game invented by the Aussie to be played on an oval pitch. I hear it had something to do with being able to use the cricket oval in the off-season. Anyway there are 18 men on each team running around in tight short shorts and tight sleeveless shirts for the duration of the game. That incidentally is made up of four twenty minutes section, called Quarters. They kick the ball and punch the ball, but under no circumstances throw the ball …whatever! Did I mention the 36 hot players in short shorts and tight t’s?

We, that is Trixy, his boyfriend Rachel and I arrived with plenty of time to spare so we stocked up on merchandise. Now covered in The Red and The White (of course T & R got the gayest shirt possible and were matching, darling) we didn’t feel out of place among the thousands of fans who had also arrived early ‘to soak up the atmosphere’ Trixy also consumed his first meat pie in grand tradition of sporting events were the supporters a destined to eat crap and drink beer.

The game started at 7.10pm. Don’t ask me why, I too asked why not 7 or 7.30 … but anyway … it started and seeing as the three of us knew nothing about the game it was fairly exciting. We followed the lead of those around us when they shouted at the butterfinger player who missed a catch. We slapped out thighs heartily when they managed to catch the ball. We cheered when the ball went through the sticks that masquerade as goal posts.

One thing we did do that no one else in the stadium did, was have a conversation about the colour of football uniforms and whether of not it’s compulsory for them to be ugly. The West Coast Eagles seemed to be wearing a colour that was ‘somewhere between violet and indigo’ combined with yellow. Trixy’s eyes were offended :-)

We booed when the other guys scored more goals than our boys.

As the game continued more beer was drunk and Trixy had his second meat pie. I also succumbed and tucked into what tasted like the best pie ever. Maybe it was because the smell had been teasing me for hours or because I haven’t had a pie for years. But it was very good. Sam turned up in the second quarter after being stuck in traffic and having to park in Parramatta.

We cheered, waved our arms about and jumped up and down like idiots when they scored.

By the time the final quarter started we were down over 30 points. I wasn’t looking good for the hunks of spunk in the candy stripes socks. But they clawed their back with some amazing passes, catches and even a couple of great goals. The referee that seemed to have been blind the rest of the match started seeing fouls, he started to see when our boys got the ball over the line and most of all he started blowing his whistle in our favor. The final score was 74 -73 to the West Coast Eagles but it was a really good game. It got the blood flowing and the desire to see them beat the next team they play.

The train trip home saw us dissecting a game we knew about 4 hours earlier. I think we made most of it up, but it sounded good.

I don’t think I’ll be staying in to watch matches on telly, but I’ll be at the ground next time they play at home.

(617 words)

The Downside of Short Hair

It’s been two weeks since I had all my hair buzz cut for charity. Generally I’m lovin’ it. I don’t have to brush it. I don’t have to wash it everyday. It takes five seconds to dry it when it does get wet and I can wear any of my fine selection of wigs whenever I feel like it.

However, I have become the victim of BES. With long hair to protect my ears in the night I never experienced the terror of waking with the top of my ear bent over and pins and needles. Or worse complete numbness.

Bent Ear Syndrome hurts and I’m sure men around the world have been suffering in silence since the dawn of time, but it’s new to me and it hurts.

So I will be growing my hair back just so I don’t have to suffer BES for all time.

(148 words)

Travelling Saleswoman – Day Three

After a little lie-in I got up at eight to find my host out in the paddocks with her farm hand (ohh…nearly a Jodie Story in that ;-) cutting alpaca toe nails. She has to cut toenails every four months. Because her animals grown such fabulous fleece, they also grow long toenails. So her hottie farm hand (HFH) was holding the alpacas as she cut. He was straight out of a GQ ‘Men from the Outback’ photo shoot. Brown work boots, camel moleskins, blue vest t-shirt and worn Akubra hat. Not to mention abs, biceps and thighs of steel straining the fabric of his trousers. I distracted myself by taking pictures of alpacas.

Just after ten I left Orange and drove to the Lithgow office to deliver the last of the week sessions. I turned up to a depot in the backwaters of Lithgow (farside of Blue Mountains from Sydney) to find out I had to deliver my spiel in a shed with no air-con or fan while the temperature soared to 34degrees the temperature inside must have been at least ten to fifteen degrees warmer. I have never sweated so much in my life. I had a very elegant trail of sweat running down my after about two minutes in the room. But like a stoic hard core training deliver I stuck it out and got through. As soon as I got in the car I kicked off my girl shoes, peeled of my tights and slipped in my sandals. I felt disgusting. Like I’d jumped into a pool of warm water and got straight into the car. Eww!

I had to drive through the Blue Mountains to get home. The roads have the most annoying speed limits…40, 80, 50, to 40, then up to 90 then down to 50 again. It took me over an hour to traverse the Mountains, but if I hadn’t been driving so slow I would never have seen the giant pumpkins.

(328 words)

Travelling Saleswoman - Day Two

Thursday dawned in Parkes and I felt quite rested, but then after nearly twelve hours sleep I suppose I should do. The sessions went well although it turned out that I knew, or rather someone in the first session knew of me. So at the very start of the session I was asked about the head shave and had to take of the wig I was wearing. I got good feedback about the sessions and they all liked the sweeties given out at the end. Who said adults weren’t really a bunch of big kids?

One of the people in the first session was an alpaca breeder. As he and his wife only lived a few minutes drive from the town centre we took a little trip out there between sessions. They also have a shop and café on the farm. I spent a bit of time chatting with his wife Maree and took a few photos of alpacas (of course I did ;-). She does allsorts of things with the fleece and was more than happy to share her experiences with the regional committee with me. She and her hubby have also suffered at the hands of others in her region.
I had planned to drive to Lithgow, but after a phone call I was stopping in Orange for the night. Bumble Hill Alpacas used to be a local breeder and then they moved out west into fine wool country. Now she has a couple few acres with a couple hundred white or nearly white fine fleeced alpacas. She had very kindly offered to put me up for the night so I made my way up into the mountains above Orange to her place. She very kindly took me out to dinner to a pizza and pasta place. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I can’t eat wheat. So I had pizza for the first time in a long while. It was yummy! Over dinner we chatted about alpacas, nasty people and why they are they way they are, religion and freshly laid chook eggs over supermarket ones. All in all very intelligent conversation just before going to sleep with a very bloated tummy from yummy pizza.

(371 words)

Travelling Saleswoman – Day One

For the last few days I have been on the road. In my current role as a change manager and communications nerd for a government agency that has something to do with infrastructure I am required to go to some of the offices around the state and tell them about the project I’m working on, but will affect them in a big way. Actually it’s a small way; it just affects a lot of people.

So on Wednesday morning I left home at the fairly civilized time of 8.30am to drive to Dubbo. Unlike Monday when I left home at 6.30am to drive to Newcastle and back in a day.

Back to Dubbo or rather out to Dubbo. I drove up through the Hunter Valley and onto the Golden Highway. Such a nice name for a highway, it brings images of sunshine and flowers lining the way. It did have the sunshine and as I drove further out west the temperature climbed for a nice 22degrees to 29 to 32. By the time I reached the outer marker (fifty kms to go) it was 36 degrees and it was noon.

I had been traveling behind a truck for the last forty or so k’s and needed a change of scenery so when a straight stretch disappeared into a haze I put my foot down and started to go round him. As I was traveling just ever so slightly over the speed limit on the wrong side of the road a rabbit dashed out in front of me. I had that moment of thought that asked if I should break. I didn’t and a fox followed the rabbit across the road in front of me. Both the rabbit and fox survived the road crossing, but I have no idea what happened later as I was already thanking my lucky stars I didn’t collect a fox on my grill at 130.

I arrived in Dubbo with plenty of time before I was due to deliver my sales pitch. It went well and everybody was nice. After a little snack on some tea and scones I was on the road to Parkes.

I was due to deliver two sessions in Parkes on Thursday but I decided so I didn’t have to get up to early I would stay overnight in the town that brought us The Dish. I was actually quite excited and had even requested this run ‘cause I knew G, my follow deliverer had no interest in going out west. I like driving and love the barren wasteland that is the great Australian bush. So I found myself hurtling toward Parkes at 3.30 on a Wednesday afternoon hoping to catch the Parkes Radio Telescope Visitors Centre still open. Just after four I passed a sign that gave the opening time of said Visitors Centre. I had 15 minutes until it closed and over twenty k’s to get there. I could do it! And I did with five minutes to spare. I went in, took the lovely pictures you see here, brought a cloth patch for my ‘look where I’ve been’ blanket and left. I can now say ‘Been there, seen that’.

After enquiring at several Motor Inns and being told ‘No room at the Inn’ I found one on the outskirts of town. The Bushmans Motor Inn is a four star establishment with a swimming pool, an onsite restaurant and room service for those who don’t wish to mingle. All they had left was a spa room so I found myself standing at the doorway to the bathroom looking at a moohosive bath, big enough for three and thinking, ‘after driving all day I think I need to have a bath.’ So after dinner of steak (sorry, but there was fish on the menu but there is something that just doesn’t feel right about order fish when you’re hours away from the nearest water way or ocean) and veggies and a glass of very nice Cabernet Merlot that went straight to my limbs I wandered back to my room for a bath.
It took twenty minutes to fill the gigantic tub and it was worth it. It was so big I had to stretch my toes to hold myself in place with my head barely above the water line, when I lost my stable position I would slip under the water in a less than graceful manner. So the relaxation part of the bath was short lived, but I had fun away. As a showerer normally the novelty of a bath was nice. The warmth of the water had assisted the glass of wine nicely and I was well and truly ready for my bed and it was only eight thirty.

A couple of interesting facts about Parkes;
1 They have a street named after a totally unfashionable (usally a mullet haircut, black jeans and t-shirt and flannel shirt and has a old bomb of a car) young man who live outside the city. (Edna, this one's for you;-)
2. They are twinned with Coventry in the UK. Ironically in thr UK when you've done something bad and no one speak to you, you are 'sent to Coventry'

FreeWay to do what you like

So, picture this. You’re driving along a three lane freeway at night, there a virtually no cars on the road with you, do you;

A) Sit at approximately the speed limit in the left hand lane minding you own until you have to overtake someone
B) Sit in the middle lane going twenty kilometres slower than the speed limit with your headlights on beam and your fog lights on
C) Sit in the right lane going nearly thirty kilometres slower than the speed limit (so you appear to be stopped) and don't move when someone approaches
D) None of the above, just don’t drive at night 'cause it's scary

Well, if you were one of the pillocks out tonight you would have be doing B and C when they really should have been doing D ‘cause clearly they have no idea how to be safe night-time driving!

Distasteful Ironing

It’s all over! They have gone home after five an a half weeks of steak and chips, cheesecake and the same stories over and over again and a bit of sightseeing.

You know the story of the jar straightening. You know the story of the bigotry. I have been selective in the tales I have told because of a) there isn’t enough room in cyberspace to take it all and b)I have a lot to live for and telling the tales, having lived them takes it out of me. There are some the just NEED to be shared, lest my head explore from un-vented frustration.

So to the tales of distasteful ironing. MIL and FIL returned from a jaunt down to Melbourning and felt compelled to do all their washing. Heaven offend that you should take dirty washing home with you after a holiday. So washing they did. Only the didn’t just do theirs. They went into our bedroom and took the few dirty items that were happy festering in the ‘laundry bin’ and put them into to wash with theirs. Now, I don’t know about you, but I shudder at the thought of my knickers (pants, kacks, daks, underwear, whatever you call them) going around in the machine with that of my FIL, much less the tumble dryer (or hanging on the washing line).

But it get worse! MIL irons everything…and I mean everything. So when I visited the house the other day there was a neat pile of washing on the end of the bed with a pair of my knickers, folded (they’re not that big) AND ironed on top of a load of Hubbies t-shirts. Eww! Stay away from my pants!

Calm blue ocean [breath in, breath out].

They have departed now…just back to the UK and they are threatening to visit again, so we are going to have to put up with ‘I can’t find anything on this menu’, ‘they all look the same’ and ‘where are the trains?’ comments all over again one day.

(339 words)

Hair Today...Gone Today!

Today was the big day. I had my head shaved for the Leukemia Foundation.

I feel like I've finally lost the weight I've been trying to shift for a while and raised over $1200 in the process ;-)

The girl cutting my hair told me I had a good shaped head for being bald. Always a good thing to know I suppose! If you want to sponsor me online go here.

What's the Problem?

A week ago I said I would shave my head to a number one for the Leukemia Foundation. A couple of days later while asking people to cough up cash in sponsorship someone asked ‘so you’re doing a Britney are you?’

I had no idea what he was talking about but continued to gather sponsorship. In fact I have just over $1000 to date. Anyhow, I finally got around to looking for pictures of Britney this evening and I have to ask.

Why is everyone so upset about a twenty year old shaving her head?

I’ve been watching Britney for a while. I love her music and like the way she has grown up. Not sure about the marriage thing, but then I don’t think anyone was except for her. But now, I look at her, twenty with two kids, a divorce pending and paparazzi just waiting for her to f*ck up. Has anyone thought this poor girl may be suffering from post-natal depression? If not post –natal, just good old fashioned depression, prehaps?

Today, I heard the news reporting that her manager and family are concerned for her career. Who gives a flying f*ck about her career, she’s got years to get that back. Please think about her mental health now or even her life and that of her kids. Leave her alone, let her get on with stuff and maybe get her some help.

I’ll get off my soap-box now…;-)

A Funny Thing Happened…

…on the way to the office this morning. I had just left my apartment building when I heard my name called. No I haven’t gained myself a stalker but someone I was thinking about just the other day.

I met this man (I’ll call him G) about three years ago when I was working on a relocation project. He was the Site Manager for the refit so I had a lot to do with him and had to learn very quickly not to push his buttons. He flew off the handle very quickly with people he had no time for.

Over the course of three months we had lunch (a lot)with the other PM and other site crew. I learnt a lot about him and his family and work history etc. and vice versa. He was a man that I wouldn’t find myself attracted too if I was to see him in a pub, but after getting to know him I found myself asking ‘if I wasn’t married?’.

What I would described as a typical Aussie male, he said ‘youse’ instead or you and ‘but' at the end of his sentences. He also dressed in a red t-shirt (uniform), khaki King Gees and work boots. His legs were really hairy but he had extremely defined calf muscles. A real bit of rough with a heart of platinum. I also knew he was a shocking flirt and eyed up any girl that walked past the place we would happen to be eating in, or be on the way to. So I knew I was far from his type.

Anyway…He called my name this morning and we walked down the hill together chatting and catching up on the last few years. He’s been in Canberra, he’s still single (why is he telling me that?) he’s just been for an interview. That explained why he was all suited and booted and I had barely recognised him. Or maybe it was the bleached blond curls on his head…whatever it was I rapidly found myself thinking;

What had I been thinking way back when we worked together?

(352 words)

Sloshed in the Valley

After arising at a decent hour for a weekend Hubby the In-laws and I made our way to the Hunter Valley for a spot of strolling around the gardens and cheese tasting.

Nah…who am I trying to kid!

Our first stop of the day (after lunch and a cuppa tea and bubbles at Petersons Champagne House) was Waverley Estates. Nothing at this vineyard is less than eight years old. MIL and I started by tasting a 1992 Shiraz, very nice. Then the 1994 Shiraz which is also called ‘bushfire in a glass’, extremely nice. Then came the 1998, which was a very good year, or so I’m told. This continued, shiraz, cab sav then the port, after nearly an hour MIL was having trouble with the slight movement of the bar (or was it her balance?). So we moved on the less intimidating surrounds of Vinden Estate.

Vinden Estate Wines has a wonderfully easy drinking wine called Alicante Boushet. It’s a red grape processed like a white grape so in the bottle it looks like a rose and drinks like pop. We had gone there with the express purpose of stocking up as we were down to the last bottle of 2004. A quick call to Trixy also revealed that he wanted some too, so we came away with twelve bottles (aka A Case). FIL was horrified, but despite being a tee-total he was quite happy to buy a hat.

We took them to a big, les boutique place next. Tempest Two has a spalling cellar door that includes three restaurants and a café. At weekends they have a Spanish guitar player that annoys the staff ‘cause he only knows six tunes. MIL purchased a couple of bottles here and seemed much happier than I’d seen her in a while. FIL and hubby had a cuppa tea and piece cake

The Cheese tasting was next and I as usual purchase a bit of each while MIL complained that she wanted a cuppa tea. We rapidly moved to a café down the road where tea was ordered along with a bowl of chips and a piece of cheese cake. I went to the shop next door and tasted more cheese and brought some candied figs to go with my cheesy purchases.

The car trip home resulted in me pretending to be asleep in the back seat and everyone else talking about stuff I didn’t really want to hear about for the forth time.

I know, I know, I’m not trying I hear you say (Hubby stop telling me to be less monosyllabic!) I try to be nice, but I can’t bear the inane conversations that we have over and over. I don’t like it when FIL asks a million questions (for the third time) about wine or cheese or anything in fact, but won’t try it. I don’t like the way MIL doesn’t get to do or see things, or doesn’t even get a look in ‘cause FIL isn’t interested, I find it tiresome to hear about hot it is when they decided to come to Aust in February despite us telling them it was the hottest time of the year. And most of all I really hate when FIL makes racist comments and then Hubby defends him ‘because he doesn’t know better’.

I do try and I’ve found out, it’s much better if I just keep my mouth shut.

(538 words)

Prelude to Purgatory

There are many things that I think I could be made to suffer over and over, if for some reason hell does exist and I end up there. I could have to suffer being told my mum has breast cancer when she wqas in the UK and I was in Aus or that any of my grandparents have passed away (only one left), but I truly believe that my punishment would be any time I have had to spend with my in-laws.

They just don’t have anything to say. And don’t even get me started on FIL.

I went out last night so caught up with Hubby and his parents at Chatswood Shopping Town around 1 o’clock after catching a train from the city. After our first cuppa tea (in Myer) we walked back to the car via the main street where he promptly asked in a loud voice, ‘what religion are most of these Chinese?’ After we explained that they tended to vary in religious affiliation he walked on. Then we got to speaking about shop hours in Australia and when I mentioned that I had eaten in a Sushi bar on Christmas day he announced ‘well the Chinese will do anything to make a quid,’ followed by ‘them and Indians, it’s in their breed.’ I was good and didn’t demand that Hubby stop the car ‘cause I didn’t want to breath the same air, instead I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I had to bite my tongue and be good, Hubby gets very upset when I call his Dad a prick to his face.

We purchased fresh leaves, meat and fish for dinner. When asked what they’d like the answer came ‘We’re easy.’ I’ve tried telling them they are deluding themselves, but it never sinks in. So I put the Rump on the BBQ along with Swordfish and made a tossed salad of Cos, baby spinach and watercress and put the pepper (capsicum) cucumber and tomato and a plate. I served it all so they could help themselves. MIL tried the swordfish (which she had never had) and like it. FIL didn’t and went straight for the ruined steak (he’ll only eat well done). While I was still picking at salad, FIL cleared the plates, then turned on the program he had paused before dinner.

He’s so f*cking rude! While MIL, Hubby and I had a nice chat over fruit (for dessert) he sat and watched Yes, Prime Minister!

I had to extract myself to do my readings for Uni. I’m so glad I have so much reading to do in these first few weeks. It’s the perfect excuse!

Tomorrow we are off to the Hunter Valley, where I have every intension of getting MIL in sloshed on tasters!

PS. Edna’s weirdo turned up out of the blue, asking to be friends, and she had to call the local constabulary.

(480 words)

Swimming 20

I went for a dip last night with good intentions of doing at least thirty minutes in the water. Only 5.54 into it (ten lengths) two guys came in a started splashing around and causing waves that would drown a blue whale. So I left.

A Bit of a Change

Those of you that really know me will know I’m after a bit of a change. So yesterday when I received an email from my company Rec Club about a fund raiser for the Leukaemia Foundation, I jumped at the chance for any change and blamed charity.

Today, I have over $650 worth of sponsorship so on 16th March, sometime between 12noon and 1.30pm I will be having my head shaved.

Anyone got a hat I can borrow?