Hot Guys and Horses

A day at the Polo at Windsor Polo Club saw Trixy, Rachel and myself appreciating the fine fillies of both the Homo sapien and Equine species. The weather was glorious and we enjoyed a feast of pate, crackers and champagne, the whole thing was wholly more civilised than the footie a couple of weeks ago. It was Australia V Chile and the Aussie won 8 goals to 6.

You could smell the money in the air, or maybe that was the horse poo? How know or dares to dream. It reminded me of the times at Cowdrey Polo Club when I was a teenager, only I didn't truly understand the benefits of being surrounded by hot, fit good guys back then quite as much as I did today.

I got to play with my new camera, a Sony A100 and the funky telephoto lens. So please let me present hotties of the Polo Scene (plus a few attempts at arty shots).

Who Get to Name Roads?

Weather Change

I was sat outside studying tonight in a nice peaceful spot under the Harbour Bridge (call me crazy, but there’s something soothing about the dedunk of cars going over the bridge plates).

After about three hours of sitting on a rug tapping out my book report my bum was numb and I noticed that my feet were cold. In fact my toes were kinda blue. So I moved to the car and had a look at the thermometer. It felt like it was 15 or 26 degrees in truth it was 22 degrees.

I think this is the year I have finally got used to the Australian weather. Last year I brought a coat about two months into winter and worn it for three weeks. This year I think I may be wearing it a bit longer.

I may have to invest in a scarf and a pair of gloves like all the other crazy Australians I saw wearing them when I first moved here eight years ago.

(168 words)

By Request

The Hopetoun
Tuesday 10th April
The Basics with Cuthbert and the Nightwalkers

The night started with Cuthbert and the Nightwalkers a local band lead by singer Richie on guitar. A group of grungy looking but Irish folk rock singing octet with a keyboard player who looked like she wanted to be the lead singers girlfriend, and a back up singer who clearly had the job. Why else would they allow her on stage with her bolero jacket with glitter on it? Don’t get me wrong they where pretty good, they played catchy tunes with a hint of Steeleye Span and TRex and more Lalala’s and Dododo’s than you could shake a stick at. Even the xylophone and cow bell made for a toe tapping, thigh slapping warm up set.

The Basics came on the stage after a brief set up. Dave Bramble on keyboards revealed to me before the start that he had been in the classroom this afternoon and has to return on Thursday. During their month long residency in three pubs in three states the Basics, Wally deBacker, Tim Heath and Kris Schroeder they’ve got Wednesdays off only so dedication to their art is proof in the pudding.

With a ninety minute set under their belt they were considerable more energetic than last week with Kris the bassist jumping about like a loony and the others having a giggle and egging him on. They played songs from their upcoming album Stand Up/Fit In and plenty of crowd pleasing covers including Cocaine and the classic Call it Rhythm and Blues/Suzy.

My heart cracked a little when drummer Wally deBacker dedicated a song to his girlfriends parents who were in the audience, as I’m sure did others, but that will not stop me from dragging myself away CSI and Dancing with the Stars next week to see if they do actually play the Lumberjack Song by Monty Python as promised.

snapshot of The Basics with a truly naff camera

Stop Revive Survive

Ok, we’ve all heard that one, but have you heard ‘Don’t text tired/drunk’? or ‘Don’t blog tired and a little tiddly’?

I made the mistake of blogging the other night after a night down the pub watching one of my favourite bands (1am) and now I have had to remove the entry, and thank goodness I can’t go next week. A friend of mine made a claim and I stoopidly talked about it in here. Comments were made, questions asked and I have removed the entry to avoid any issues and by way of apology.

I have shot myself in the foot and will have to continue to admire from the back of the room in the future, ‘cause they sure as hell would never speak to me now.

What are the Odds?

UPDATE : 11.4.07 - 10.55 Deleted content due to unsubstantianted and possibly offensive claims

Long Weekend Informathon

After driving up to the house on Thursday night I took the chance to have a good undisturbed sleep and got up just after ten on Friday morning. Without Hubby sawing and chopping his way through the planets old growth forests overnight I get a lots of quality sleep. I spent Friday reading and writing for uni work. I did have a break and watched My Fair Lady and wondered for the first time ever how this movie got made.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this movie and it deserves the Oscars it won, but these days there is no way this movie would be made. It’s sexist, racist, derogatory to women and ‘poor’ people, elitist and downright scary if you consider the scene where the housekeeper takes Eliza for a bath. It couldn’t be more un-PC if it tried.

Anyway, back to me weekend. On Saturday Hubby and I drove out to the show. The Sydney Royal Easter Show that is. The banners this year are selling it as ‘see the real Australia’. The real Australia my eye! It’s only the real Australia if Australia is all about flogging cheap crap in ‘showbags’ and flinging people around for exorbitant prices in vomit comets. I suppose you could be excused for saying that all the animals on show are ‘the Real Australia’, but then I suppose I’m used to seeing animals in large open paddocks with grass to eat instead of in a pen three metres square. I know I’m lucky to see animals this way. They all look so sad and bored when they’re in pens. We had gone out to the show to see the alpacas, so I could do my roving reporter bit and Hubby could perform his duties as unofficial regional photographer. Ohh… yeah and we saw the same Giant Pumpkins I followed thrugh the Blue Mountain a couple of weeks back. The day turned into a ‘Why are we doing all this voluntary work’ day.

We came to the conclusion that we don’t get anything out of it. We don’t help anyone. We spend a huge amount on travel to places we don’t want to go because of it. We sacrifice a lot of time to it, sometimes to the detriment of other things in our lives. And on top of that we get grief, to the point neither of us pick our email up at the weekends anymore ‘cause we don’t know what it will hold in store for us. The final conclusion; as of July, it’s over…they have done what they do to all regional volunteers, they have chewed us up and spat us out.

Sunday saw us have a day of rest, well sort of. Hubby was busy putting the finishing touches to the new PC while I did some more reading for Uni. The trouble with reading, lying on the bed after a nice comfortable lunch; the irresistible urge to sleep. Maybe I needed it? I know I felt a lot better when I woke up two hours later. I hadn’t even lost my place in my book. Sunday evening saw us both sat on the sofa watching movies and having a nice glass of wine or three.

Yesterday I got into my school work early. I even woke up before Hubby which is a rare occurrence at the weekends. I have 4 assignments due in 3 weeks. Not through bad planning but bad luck of the draw. I get them done, but I’m working on the hardest one first.

Lunch set the day as it was to be…we had an argument over Hubby having a Hungry Jacks and me not wanting anything wheat based. When we got home we where still tiffing and after I’d cleaned out the cat litter trays, Hubby went out to get more Litter. When he got back we spent the next FIVE hours in sometimes heated discussion about how he feels unloved and unwanted and how I was a selfish, greedy person. Now it’s all out in the open maybe things can move on. (Please understand I’m giving you full details, those that are close to me will get them though ;-.)

I slept horribly and feel like crap today, but that’s not stopping me going to the Hopetoun tonight for another dose of The Basics.

(702 words)

Spit and Felt Tip

I may be showing my age or maybe just my old-fashioned upbringing but I need to vent.

For the first time in months I brought myself a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine. It had a pretty picture of Eva Longoria wearing white on the cover and promises ‘Celeb Sex Shocks’ and apparently ‘the Best Fashion idea for my shape’.

So picture me, laying in bed (as all good Cosmo read happen, I hear) browsing the pages of a girlie mag. I was looking at pictures of shoes, handbags, skirts, shirts and more shoes. I was revelling in the photos of girls dressed in the latest upcoming fashions and thanking my lucky stars I was old enough to have my own style (jeans and t-shirt/blouse, thank you very much!) and didn’t feel I had to conform to pinafore dresses in plaid over spotty shirts or skirts with enormous, useless buttons.

On page 53 I was looking at the Quick Tips from the fashion editor. There were just three;
1. Holey tights? Blast with hairspray to stop a run.
2. Revamp a tired headscarf by adding a cute brooch
3. Use a black felt-tip pen to freshen up scuffed shoes

USE A FELT TIP PEN TO COVER SCUFFS!

What the hell happened to polish your shoes? Surely I’m not the only one my age who still partakes in this archaic practice. I know Miss Eudoxia does, after all it’s a requirement of her new truncheon wielding position. I know Hubby doesn’t polish his, ‘cause I do them. I know my dad does and so does my mum, after all they’re the ones who taught me.

Help…please let me know how you keep your shoes looking their best.

(284 words)

Intentional Groupie Action

The Basics
The Hopetoun
Tuesday 3rd April

With a supporting act like The Saturns it’s very hard not to be upstaged. They have all the right moves for an emerging rock band and have a pretty faithful following, including the main act that will be playing with them at least twice, over the next month, during their tri-state marathon. Fronted by Danny Holdsworth, The Saturns gave a performance that is full of frenetic energy that infected the crowd. With some of their influences being more visible than others, it was made easy for the newcomers who had never seen these local boys before, to enjoy the 60s to today inspired rock and roll sounds until their all too short set came to an end in a demonstration of pure rock star moves by the entire band. Think Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, David Bowie and Beck.

After a brief interval and set up, The Basics took command of the stage with the opener ‘Rattle my Chain’ from their upcoming, second album ‘Stand Out/Fit In’, (out 5th May). A stream of new and old songs followed including a few covers thrown in for good measure, all received with equal cheering and roars from the gathered fans. A bit of banter between bass player, Kris Schroeder and drummer, Wally deBacker resulted in a request from the crowd being honoured. They joked that this was the last time this particular song was being played; but then said ‘a request is always performed.’ Who would have dreamed of hearing ‘The Right Stuff’ by New Kids on the Block played in a pub in Sydney by a band from Melbourne dressed like the Beatles?
That said, it received one of the biggest cheers of the evening. Three encores and 80 minutes later the Basics left the stage to ‘Money, That’s What I Want,’ by Barrett Strong (but covered by The Beatles in the 60s) and a promise to ‘see you all next week’.

You can count me in and judging for the reaction from the rest of the room, you can count in everyone else too!

(343 words)

I sent this review to The Brag today in the hope of publication, but we’ll see. I wanted to say that I stood and watched Wally with the eyes of a true groupie and only just noticed the others playing. He’s had his hair cut since I last saw him.

For Your Viewing Pleasure - Tearful TV!

Today, while catching up on weeks of ironing and housework I caught up on my movie watching. And in the process managed to find two that made me cry.

Not that I’m a hard-arse or anything but movies rarely make me cry (unless it’s the old people on the bed in Titanic or The Bridges of Madison County) but as I say…today I have been ironing through a haze of tears that would embarrass even the most depressed dumped chick with a gallon of ice-cream.

After a quick pop to the shops and the first load of washing on, I made myself a sandwich and sat down to watch the start of Crash. It won the best picture Oscar last year and I’ve been meaning to see it since. A few weeks ago it was on Foxtel and I taped it. If you’ve seen Love Actually you’ll know how hard it is keeping track of many charaters inter-weaved with each other. This is nothing like Love Actually in that I don’t recall one happy joy-joy moment. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very good, but the shirt I was ironing at the point were the racist cop rescues the black woman from the burning car didn’t need a spray from the water jet. I was dripping, but not from my nose thank goodness.

So I watched an episode of Blade;the series to dry my eyes and bring me back to reality.

Next I put on Layer Cake. I had heard good things from Edna as she raved about Daniel Craig’s leading man role before he became the most famous secret agent in the world. It’s a good old fashioned movie about British gangsters and their shenanigans while dealing drugs, double crossing and killing each other. But still, right at the end it brought a quick tear that evaporated almost as soon as it appeared.

So I watched the next episode of Blade; the series and one of Fawlty Towers to really clear up any weepy stuff that lay in wait behind my eyeballs. A good Waldolf Salad will cure what ails you.

At Uni I’m doing Theory and Writing. Yes, I know it sounds poncy, that’s because it is. But I have to admit, I’m enjoying it a lot more than the first week indicated I might. Anyway…two of the books we have to read are Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf and The Hours by Michael Cunningham which is based around the happening in Mrs. Dalloway and VW’s life. So I thought I’d cut out a little reading and just watch the movie The Hours. This one was nominated for 9 Oscars in 2003, but only won one, Best Actress for Nicole Kidman as the writer Virginia Woolf. Holy Crap…if I thought Crash made me cry… I had to stop ironing and sorting washing, I couldn’t see. I even thought I’d lost a contact lens at one point. Great movie though!

To top it off, even House had me snotting into a tissue and over babies of all things.

I’m not sure what came over me today. I’ve been tried for a while, but emotional too? Rarely do the two go hand in hand…ohh wait a minute…yes they do!

(538 words)

Unless of course...it was all someones idea of a joke?

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?

The Family Stone

Finally, after all this time I have finally got to see The Family Stone. The Other Andrew spent some time rating the bangability of the male cast members and while I chipped in on the comments at the time having not seen it, I now stand by my list after seeing the movie.

1. Luke Wilson
2. Dermot Mulroney
3. Paul Schneider
4. Tyrone Giordano
5. Jamie Kaler
6. Robert Dioguardi
7. Brian J White
8. Craig T Nelson

Luke Wilson is great. He plays the scruffy old brother Ben, and seems to channel Owen in the process. For once he’s not the clean cut preppy type, but the loony three day growth type and I would have to say he’s moved into my list of ten and gone straight to the top.

He says a line to SJP’s character Meredith when they are in the pub together about how there is something about her that people just don’t get, which I thought was a stroke of genius ‘You have a freak flag, you just don’t fly it’

Overall the movie tackles a few interesting topics during its 102 minutes but manages it well and with humour without losing the importance of each of the messages.

A Reasonable Update

There have been a few things happening recently and due to my being a social butterfly I just haven’t found the time to sit and write. Today though, I have decided to sit and update you on the happening of my life in reverse order.

First Night back at Uni
Last night I started back at University. This semester is going to be interesting from a time management point of view ‘cause I have two classes on two nights (Monday and Tuesday). In the past I’ve managed to schedule both classes on the same day so I haven’t lost too much free time and been able to plan my study time better. I hope this way works out too.

When I walked into the Uni building last night I had to walk a gauntlet of 18-20 year olds trying to get me to join their chosen cause.
‘Sign a partition against the War!’ Which War?
‘Join the Christian coalition.’ Get away from me.
‘How can socialism help you?’ I don’t know and I don’t care.
‘Are you suffering from depression?’ Only at the fact I can’t walk un-accosted by students who seem to be devoting their time to activities other than studying.

Also, what’s with the freaky-arse hair-do’s?

Edna’s Birthday Bash
On Saturday Edna had a drinkie-poos to celebrate her birthday. It was due to start at six in a not so salubrious establishment in Newtown. By 7.30 she had had three cancellation text messages and still her only company was Hubby, myself and Moohosive Moose. She was, understandably disappointed at the lateness of the cancellations. By 9, everyone else had turned up, so all was OK. Edna never had less than three bottles of Strongbow on the go at once, so it was all extremely good.

The Red Dot
As you know the in-laws are in town. On Friday night Edna and I escaped the confines of the city to drink a bottle of wine and watch a movie in peace. When we got to the house it was very clean, not a problem, until I noticed that the kitchen had been cleaned to the point where the red dot on the tap (the hot water dot) had been scrubbed away. Then I opened the cupboards and all my jars had been lined up like little soldiers with labels facing out. THEN, I went to the loo and my shampoo was lined up like a display in Coles.

And this man denies having OCD!

Sorry the pictures are a bit bt blurry, but they were taken on my phone, and i may have been shaking!

I like Big Boats...

...does that make me a nerd?

At the weekend The Oriana was in the harbour, on Tuesday both the Queen Mary II and Queen Elizabeth II pulled into the harbour. The QMII was so big she didn’t fit into Circular Quay and had to moor in down the road while QEII nabbed a sweet spot at the International Terminal.

Tonight I happened to be in Kirribilli (opposite Circular Quay, for those not in the know) as the QEII was leaving, so I got the first chance to see her moving since 1982 in Southampton when she got back from taking troops to the Falkland Island. I remember sitting on Hythe pier with my Mum and Nan watching her return home and my Nan being really excited about it.

(123 words)

QEII pulling out with Sydney City behind

QEII with the Opera House peeking out from behind
and two Harbour ferries in front

Belly-Dancing Groupies

Edna and I went ‘belly-dancing’ last night, as we always do on a Wednesday night. It became a bit of a regular thing a few months ago when we stopped working together. Wednesdays are Sushi, Belly-Dancing (aka a pint or maybe, two), Over Analysis and a Swim night. We only make it to the pool about a 3rd of the time;-)

Last night we had a major weekend debrief to do plus she had to dump Steps (see entry for Friday night). After a fairly fun, but intense weekend she had told him on Monday morning that she would call him on Thursday evening ‘cause she was busy until then. So he texted her…30odd times and when she didn’t return the texts, he called her and left messages. It had got to the point by Wednesday afternoon where she couldn’t pick up the phone and had a face like thunder because of the stress of it all.

After much consultation with other friends at work (yes, she does have other buddies) it was decided that he had to go. So after a ‘courtship’ of just 4 days, she was going to dump him. The general consensus was that due to the lengthy duration of the ‘relationship’ a phone dumping was acceptable.

So after Sushi, that’s what she did while I popped into the supermarket. It was all over…a weight was lifted.

We were wrong…as we sat and drank the first Strongbow of the evening he texted saying that ‘cause of all the bulls*it he’d never have a relationship again. She ignored it. Twenty minutes later he texted again, this time asking if they could still be friends. This went on …and on…and on. As far as I’m aware there have been no texts today.

All the drama, laughter and cider inspired us to come up with the 4P’s of dating. A joint effort that rates the following of each potential boyfriend. Each of the following is scored out of 10 with a maximum rating of 40.

Personality – Does he make me laugh? Does he make weird sweeping statements about things he knows nothing about? Does have similar interests? Is he safe to air to your friends?
Performance – Does he make my toes curl? Does he do things you never knew you could do? Does he do the hokey pokey? Is he aware that hickies are totally unacceptable after the age of 12?
Presentation – Does he have holes in his socks? How does he smell? Does he give a pash rash that rivals a radiation accident scrub down? Does the six pack on his stomach rival the six pack in his fridge?
Post-Coital – How does he behave after the deed? Is he still exhibiting the niceness of before or does he just say ‘OK, let’s get you home sweetie?’ Can he remember your name?

Needless to say, this was a two-thirds night. But we did get to be groupies for the acoustic guitar player that is always on, on a Wednesday!

(461 words)

Credit where credit's due : Thanks to Edna for the contributions in purple and for allowing me to share her story ;-)

Starvin’ Marvin

I not sure why, but today I am absolutely starving. I had my usual large fruit salad for breakfast and have been keeping myself reasonably busy this morning, but by 11.45 I had to eat my lunch.

Normally I could blame boredom, but not today, I have been emailing Edna with dating advice (like I’m an expert or someink ;-), writing the ‘in the news’ for the next alpaca magazine, editing poems from my group last night and I actually did a little work. So I don’t think boredom is the answer.

Any ideas…and NO, I don’t have worms (before anyone suggests it)!

(103 words)

Swimming 19

The first swim since last Wednesday was brief, again, 'cause i'm going out. Only 20 lengths in 15.14. I figure it's better than nothing and I did power walk over to UTS and back from work at lunchtime.

Tour Guide Extraordinaire – Day Two

The day started earlier with me meeting H and C at their hotel again. Our destination of the day was Bondi Beach. The weather was divine, but due to a little bit too much exposure on Saturday I was required to ‘go granny’. The high necked shirt, long sleeves and hat. I had even worn sunscreen!

We got a cab and arrived at the beach in time for lunch. So we choose to dine at Nick’s on the Beach, a seafood eatery with a great view. The sands that stretched out in front of us were white and covered in bodies. Some were brown and well able to handle the souring heat, but others where quite clearly from red headed stock or far northern Europe and where rapidly becoming the colour of the lobster on the platter we had ordered. Ironically enough, despite the faces pulled at dinner the night before, the oyster were the first things eaten.

After lunch we went for a walk on the surf line. At the end of the beach we sat on rocks and watched the seagulls fishing in the shallows. H and I didn’t feel the need to constantly chatter as we had covered so much the day before and we sank into a restful, comfortable silence.

We wedged ourselves onto a bus for the trip back to the city before H & I went up the Centerpoint Tower. C stayed on the ground and waited for us to come down. We then walked through Hyde Park, down Macquarie Street and through the Botanical Gardens, where H took full advantage of walking on the grass.

Our day and time together ended where it had begun, the City Extra 24 hour café for a cuppa tea.

It was quite sad to wave goodbye as she and her hubby walked through the barriers to the train. I walked back to Oxford Street slowly (two blocks from the flat) for dinner alone and wished, no, reflected for the first time in a very long time that I could get back to the UK more often to see my family. Then I got a text message from my Hubby telling me he was having dinner in Lone Star with his parents and I was glad I didn’t get back to the UK that often, ‘cause I’d have to see them too!

(394 words)

UPDATED : 12.34 22/2/07

I wrote a poem today about H's visit.

Tour Guide Extraordinaire - Day One

After the late night/early morning on Friday I was kinda glad I had agreed to meet my sister and her hubby at 12.30 in the lobby of their hotel in the Rocks. I wasn’t hungover but I was feeling tired and really like I wanted to have a day in bed. But family called and I answered.

I haven’t seen my sister H for over seven years. In that time she has divorced, met and new fella (C) and married him and lost her eldest son to the disease that made him sick his whole life. So to be truthful I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but I planned to show them some of Sydney and generally catch up.

We started, in grand British tradition with a cuppa tea and a light lunch. I have to confess to not really remembering what we talked about, but it was lovely and we did decide that we would make the trip over to Manly on the ferry. On the ferry over we talked about B (her son) and how I hadn’t called her because I knew she didn’t need one more person saying ‘sorry’. She understood and said the card I had sent had meant a lot and all the cards and flowers had been buried under a pergola at the bottom of her garden.

Upon our arrival in Manly I introduced H to Copenhagen Ice-cream, with a double scoop of Strawberry and Maple Macadamia I gave her the mission of finishing it before we reached the other end of the Corso. It was Hot on Saturday and as soon as we stepped out of air conditioned shop the ice-cream did it’s best to melt away. By the time we had reached the Beach and far end of the Corso, H had melted, sticky ice-cream covering her hand and down to her elbow. She admitted to having never seen even her children get so messy. The blue-bottles (jellyfish) in the water meant that she and C had to paddle in a tiny hole I dug that filled with water. But they got to stand in water on Manly Beach, so they were happy.

A walk took us to another beach (Delwood) were C sat and had a cigarette and watched while H and I went looked in Rock Pools. The ferry trip back to the city was more chatting and the start of sunset over the bridge and Opera House.

We had dinner at Doyles on the Quay. H and C both tried Sydney Rock oysters for the first time. I don’t think they will go out of their way to eat them in the future, but they didn’t spit them out. We drank some nice 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon from the Coonawarra while we ate and chatted more. We reminisced about our childhood, shared gossip and opinion about our sisters and laughed about the incident with the ice-cream earlier. We even spoke about B but I had to change the subject when she started to look wet in the eyes. C looked on and said several times, 'it's good to finally met you', 'you sound just like your mum' and 'you haven't seen each other for years'.

I saw them to their hotel and agreed to meet them again at ten on Sunday. I walked home thinking about how a mother should never have to see her child die.

(541 words)

Burning in Hell

It’s that time of the month again, the time where Edna and I get dressed up like tarts and party ‘til dawn, Hellfire! Trixy bailed out on Wednesday 'cause he had a better shag offer and Sam, well Sam really let us down by cancelling just as we arrived by text message (we had been due to meet him there). Edna aka Lara Croft and I (aka Domina) spent the evening avoiding what we thought at the start of the evening quite a cute guy. But he got steadily more and more hammered until he was trying to make us stay with him. Word of advice, don’t try and make a kick boxer stay by grabbing her by the shoulders. It doesn’t end well!

We had been musing earlier over a glass of booze that it was only a matter of time before we saw someone we knew parading around. The sight of Edna’s boxing instructor making out with a girl and dressed as a police woman confirmed a few things in Edna’s mind and confirmed for me that Sydney, really is a big country town.

I have to confess, that it wasn’t the best night I’ve ever had, The weird hammered guys, loosing my flogger only to find it again being used by a stranger on the bare a*se of another stranger (Eww!), friends not turning up and feeling like I really was in the fires of hell dressed in a black PVC corset and skirt.

We left at just before three am, alone but merry and ready for debrief and over analysis of the evening back at the flat. Edna, however, with her amazing powers of seduction (I sware she has some sort of Magic dust) pulled purely by walking up the stairs.

‘Come and have a drink with me so we can get to know each other,’ he (for sake of it, we’ll call him Steps) says to her

After a few moments of exchange, she’s drinking and I’m going home alone. Twenty minutes later she arrives at mine after getting him to walk her home.

We did our debrief and rolled into bed at 4.30am.

(358 words)

Giving Love The Slip

The evening of St. Valentines Day started with Sushi at the Harbourside Sushi Train. The choice was a bit slim on the fastest train in the west, but that may have been due to it not being quite six o’clock when we started. By the time we left all the good stuff was coming out, but Edna and I were full. Five plates plus Miso and a green tea is fine, anymore would just be piggy!

We arrived at the Slip Inn just after seven. As we entered the building we were given a sticker with a number on it. We had been marked with the Shag Tags. The idea behind this is, send a text message to the Number provided, the message appears on the screen and hopefully you pull. We pulled our first glass of free champagne and found a seat over looking the beer garden.

Being the critical bitches that we are, Edna and I came to the conclusion that there was a good reason some of the people there. We had our second glass of champagne and started talent spotting. We came to the realisation pretty quickly that it really was a good thing that neither of us where there to pull.

A change in vantage point didn’t make the desperation in the room any less …well…desperate! So we settled in and watched the screens sending their messages out to the world. Some were funny, some were so old they had cobwebs and others were so English.

:-)Well h-e-l-l-o boys, from xxxx
:-)That cigarette burn really hurt you idiot!
:-)My shag tags better than yours, it's red for a start. Come and see xxx
:-)1206 Your hot!
:-)Fancy a foursome come see xxx
:-)Virren, Virren, What kind of a name is that? Where your parents hippies or summit?
:-)You must be from outta space, 'cause I can see stars in your eyes
:-)do you have a map cause I keep getting lost in your eyes
:-)2 guys required for a bang contact xxx
:-)do you have any raisins, if not fancy a date?
:-)Im from the FBI the Fabulous Body Inspectors, assume the position!
:-)apart for being sexy what do you do for a living
:-)1241 you have big balls
:-)Roses are red. Violets are blue. I have an xxx and now 801, so do you too
:-)You must be going to hell cause it’s a sin to look so good
:-)Who let the dogs out and why are they all at the Slip Inn

We got chatted up too, even though we were clearly making no effort. A pair a travelling Scotsmen asked Edna for a blow job, she kindly declined on the grounds of having only known them for ten minutes. When asked if she would consider it later she phrased the dismissal slightly harsher.

I was targeted by a short bullish guy from Johannesburg wearing a red FBI shirt. He kept coming back even after I told him I was married, now that dedication to getting laid. He left about 11 ‘cause he had to get up early for work. I really didn’t need to know that!

Edna and I left about half midnight along with all the other desperados when they closed the bar. We walked up to the Three Monkeys for a night cap, had one, but the Hungry Jacks across the street called to us with its siren song, promising flame grilled burgers and fries.

All in all a good night was had. I got to see how the single life could be and Edna got to be sad and ever so slightly depressed by the amount of non-gay-talent in Sydney. Both of us suffered from multiple-apoplexy from the terrible spelling and grammar usage in text messages.

This morning I’m feeling a tad over hung and have drunk two cups of tea to counteract the effects of the late night fries.

(633 words)

UPDATED : 20:09 15-2-07

I should have mentioned this earlier, but the entry was already moohosive, but it’s been bugging me that I left it out, so here it is.

When the free champagne ran out, Edna and I decided to continue drinking it so, of course we had to start paying for it. After a bit of confusion between Edna and the Barmaid, two glasses of the fizzy stuff sat before us with a demand for $12. Edna gave her a $20 note and got $6.40 change. Not normally the change for twelve dollars, so we tried to work out if we had missed heard her, and figured she'd confused the 20cent pieces for dollar coins. Maybe we had missheard her request for money...after all twelve and thirteen sixty sound alike don't they?. So we asked ourselves what rhymes with twelve?

The next round was mine and I was paid $13.60, the next round was also $13.60

Henceforth, $13.60 will be known as Schwelve!

Luncheon Dip

‘Cause I’m going out straight after work today I decided to squeeze my swimming into my lunch break. So, due to time constraints I only did 30 lengths and it took me 22.26. The rest of my seventy minute break was made up of walking home/back to work (approx four blocks), getting changed and showering. Lunch was consumed at my desk about ten minutes ago ;-)

Something I Forgot

I witnessed something funny on Saturday I wanted to write about, but the whole hideousness of the In-laws visit got in the way. So here goes.

Hubby and I were in Bondi Junction shopping centre browsing in EzyDVD. There was a mother and son in there too. The boy was about five or six years old and was sent to find something he might like while Mum looking at the new releases. I was standing near the kid when he held up a case and shouted ‘I want this one mummy, it got a doggie in it.’

Mum came over and took the case and slowly placed Stephen King’s Cujo back on the rack as she said, ‘No darling, that’s a scary movie. How about the new Wiggles?’

(128 words)

Swimming 17

50 lengths in 35.16. I’ve either improved since Sunday or I really did lose count and jump straight from 45 – 47.

One down, too many to go

The in-laws have been here not quite a day. In fact they had been here little under five hours before they started irritating Before they had even given their son a hug hello Father-in-Law (FIL) was complaining about how heavy the hand luggage was ‘cause of the stuff they had to buy in duty free. They offered, Hubby asked!

(Incidentally who was the cute guy with clown feet checking me out (and vice versa) in Arrivals? He was about 5’10” or 11” with short dark hair, and orange and white striped shirt and black trousers. Nice butt and enormous feet. I recognise him, but can’t for the life of my recall were I’ve seen him)

I drove out of the airport and into the city, FIL in the passenger seat, hubby behind me and Mother-in-Law. FIL starts telling us about the flight and how he ate a pound and half of Werther’s Orignals and hadn’t had any sleep for 36 hours. Then he started talking about his trains bearings (he’s a train nut and is currently refurbing a diesel engine). I asked when he learnt how to speak a foreign language. That went over his head. So I told him I was driving and a microsleep can kill. That went over his head too, So I told him trains are boring and he should wait until I wasn’t driving to tell that story.

I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like playing nice just at the moment.

After we put them in their hotel in the middle of Chinatown, we had to have something to eat. Now normally Hubby and I would go to Don King’s House of Pancakes (really called BBQ King) but FIL doesn’t eat ‘foreign muck’ so we ended up in the only place that did reasonably bland food. Delafrance on the corner of Goulburn and George, it’s open 24 hours for tea and sandwiches. It was gone 10pm so our choice was limited for a Monday night. A egg mayonnaise roll with lettuce and grated carrot proved to be exotic for FIL while MIL raved about a chocolate croissant. Once again we heard about the Werther’s and the lack of sleep for 36 hours before FIL had a go about my driving. When I told him to pack it in, he told the story of the train bearings again and something about Werther’s Orignals and sleep.

We put them back in the hotel at 11pm. I’d missed my swim and was quite frankly exhausted but the last few hours. Today Hubby has driven them to the house for the rest of the week. Of course it’s filthy, so I’m sure they will spend the next few days cleaning my house. As long as they put everything back were they find it, I say Let ‘em. Let's just hope they don’t find my BDSM book stash!

I must swim tonight! Release the tension.

(485 words)

Swimming 16

With a much earlier start time than last night, I managed 50 lengths in 36minutes and 36 seconds. I also figured out that trying to tell the time on the clock on the wall when I'm sans glasses is not the best way to time keep, so I dug out my stop watch.

The in-laws arrive tomorrow.

Swimming 15

I finally got to the pool at 11.20pm tonight, I did a measly 23 lengths in 20 minutes. I stopped when my legs had sunk so low in the pool that I hit the bottom with my toes. Oww! But then I suppose that's better than nothing.

After a rub down in the shower with my Lux Reflects and Illuminates (the purple one :-) I was inspired to write these.

Something to See

OK, a couple weeks ago I mentioned that my in-laws are coming to town. A couple of days ago my eldest sister announced she would be in town the weekend of the 17/18 Feb. That also happens to be the first weekend that that In-laws are here.

There are now things to see. Hubby and I had our first (of many I’m sure) argument about his parents. My sister does not like his Dad, they met at our wedding and I haven’t seen my sister for seven years or even met her husband, whom she married three years ago. Hubby seems to think that by me not spending my time with him and his parents I’m being selfish, but is quite happy for me to say to my sister, ‘Sorry, I can’t see you after you made the effort to come to Sydney ‘cause I have to spend time with my in-laws.’

Who’s being selfish?

(155 words)

PS. This is my 200th entry.

Impromptu Groupie Action

Edna had a really rough day at work and needed to attend a dinghy pub and have a glass of wine. I had had a day filled with meetings, so joined her with gusto.

After dinner at the Sushi Bus with hubby, we went off to The Macquarie, but rather than drinking wine, we started on the Strongbow Dry. The sexy barman had grown a beard which made him considerably less sexy and the consensus was, we don’t like beards. Apparently it’s tradition for Irish men to shave of their beards off for St. Patricks day, so he’s be sexy again by the middle of March.

At 8.30 a band started. Now as it would happen, Edna and I been in this pub before and this band had been playing, so technically, having seen them more than once makes us Groupies! Yah! The band DBussy play sunk/soul/groove (whatever!) and started off really well, but the end of their second set seemed to have got really loud and the lead singer was screaming a lot. So we left.

The Brighton, on the corner of Oxford Street and Riley Street. Music was provided by a video jukebox playing mostly eighties rock with bad mullets haircuts. Liquid refreshment came in the form of more Strongbow Dry in glasses kindly fetched by the bouncer that kept flirting. We talked about her lunch date with Del-Boy, her interview and how the silly tart of a boss made completely unprofessional comments straight after asking her seven competency questions. We talked about boys (goes without saying really), drink and plans for the continuation of her birthmonth. Also we made plans to visit the Slip Inn (famous for introducing Prince Fred of Denmark to Mary of Tassie) on Valentines Day for a ‘Anti Love’ night with ‘non of that coupley stuff’.

I rolled in at just after three in the morning and feel surprising good.

(317 words)

Some Groupie Action - Take One

I met my cousin R for drinks tonight. We met in the same pub we met in last year. Our parents give us grief ‘cause we’re not hanging out together on a weekly basis, just because we happen to live in the same city.

He brought along his girl, C too. They have just got engaged, and it’s his birthday soon, so we had to meet up, exchange family histories and the benefits of the English drinking copious amounts of tea.

However, the band I thought I might try and become a groupie for was also playing tonight. They are called Don’t Eat My Lettuce and were chosen by the extremely scientific manner of - they have a daft name.

So after a couple of drinks, and a explanation of my New Years resolution, the three of us walked across town to the Mandarin Club, a delightfully grotty place that does karaoke in the basement, pokies on the ground floor and rather splendid food on the first. As the bands had a while before starting we decided to have a bite to eat. We got to eating and chatting and R and me proved ourselves to be our mothers children by talking so much we completely missed the bands! The only thing lacking (from it being a conversation between our parents) where the fags and tea.

I did put my foot it in at one point when we started on religion, stem cell research and hypocrisy (our families are NOT religious) when I said it was weird and I didn’t get it, only to discover he’d got religion about three years ago and attends church regularly. On the plus side he does think Catholics are tad extreme.

Take One at become a groupie failed.

(283 words)

Swimming 14 (Wrinkled Prune)

After dinner in the Sushi Bus and a quick half with Edna we went swimming. When we got to the pool it was like Piccadilly Circus compared to what I’m used too.

There was a girl in the spa, who got out about five minutes after we had arrived and promptly started doing lengths of crawl (show off). The pool is just wide enough to have two people passing, so Edna and I were relegated (with our lady-like breaststroke) to chatting and over analyzing her upcoming rendezvous. We came to the conclusion that he is going to be a fat ginger bloke with a Del-boy car and a camel coat, and he’s going to bring his kids along. In the past all of our musings have been far away from the truth, so we’re hoping to have got it right again this time.

We moved to the spa and relaxed like decedent tarts until we were joined by my new neighbour D. He’s in the Navy and has just got back from four years overseas and seems to have a passion for curtains, cocktails and cats.

We finally got to do our lengths. I ended up doing 20 lengths after an hour in the water, but quite frankly after all that, my heart just wasn’t in it.

(221 words)

Pickles

40 lengths in just under thirty minutes of lady-like breast stroke tonight. I was distracted. I was thinking about a conversation I overheard today on my walk back from lunch.

It’s been sneaking into my mind since about one thirty when I was walking behind two guys up Goulburn Street. Both were tall and from their outlines fairly fit, and they both had brown close cropped hair and nice arses. Anyway back to the conversation…at first it seemed fairly innocent, weekend plans, girlfriends and drinking. Then one asked the other what he did after work when he got home.

‘Yank my gherkin.’

I had to stop and look in a shop window I was laughing so hard, I didn’t hear the response, but I’m fairly sure it would have fitted into the TMI category.

Once I had recovered I got to thinking, why would a man pick a gherkin as a metaphor for his penis? (In grand tradition I’m going to over-analyse now) I mean, gherkins are normally about three or four centimeters long and about one wide. Now dill cucumbers tend to be bigger, maybe he meant that, but still not the most impressive of pickled food stuffs. Surely none pickled, a cucumber would be better Even a horse carrot, white radish or zucchini might be a better choice, but the smallest of elongated vegetables. Why?

Maybe it was the first thing that popped into his head, but again Why? Is he trying to underplay the size of his massive member or purely being truthful. We will never know, but I for one will wonder for quite some time.

(269 words)

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Labels

I noticed something when posting today. A new box at the bottom of the 'Create New Entry’ page. You type in subject labels and it means that all you blog entries can be sorted by looking for a particular subject. For instance, this entry is about ‘blogging’. If you click on the little green word that says blogging below, all the entries about blogging will be filtered out and presented on one page. Magic!

I’ve only been through the January entries marking them with labels so far, maybe one day when I’m extra busy I’ll do the rest.

Swimming 12

40 lengths in 22 minutes of ladylike breast stroke tonight made me think that maybe it’s time to be doing not-so-ladylike breast stroke again.

Time to bring out the goggles again. Sexy!

The Rundown of the Putdown (alpacas involved, always long)

Once Saturday had started (at the crack of lunchtime) the day was extremely pleasant and relaxed. Just what I needed after a hard week at work (making up education puzzle and reading gay porn) to recover and refresh myself for this week when I have a new Project Manager starting.

Experience tells me this is never good. Every time I have been involved in a change of PM half way through a project it has always ended with me being out on my arse. Not because I’m bad (at least I never been told that) but because of working styles or requirements. Actually having written that I sound like I am crap! Anyway, that’s a different story by the sounds of it.

Back to my weekend.

Saturday, lunch was followed by a spot of shopping at the Junction of Bondi shopping centre. We, that would be Hubby and I took complete advantage of Westfield and managed, purely by chance, to get back to the car park in 1hour and 57 minutes. Free Parking for us. Thank you very much.

At 6 o’clock we were due to met Edna for dinner and then on to the Moonlight Cinema at Centennial Park, the first of many Birthmonth celebrations. I met her, but hubby remembered at the last minute that he had to do the Treasurers report for the alpaca meeting the following morning. So he joined us at about 6.45. By which time Edna and I had over analysed boys, their motivation and why they smell so good (at times).

The movie was Casino Royale, Hubby and I had already seen it but Edna hadn’t and was keen to make her mind up about a ‘ging-er’ Bond. As it turns out he is now up there with Timothy Dalton as her favourite. (I never said she had any taste in Bonds).

On the way back to the car and killing time before joining the back of the queue getting out of the park Edna spotted movement in a tree. Further inspection resulted in her seeing a flying fox for the first time ‘in the wild’.

After dropping Edna of at home, Hubby and I debated the merits of getting up at 6.30am on a Sunday morning to drive for three hours to a meeting were it was highly likely we were going to be subject to some form of abuse, whether it be subtle and covert or obvious. We decide that we couldn’t leave our El Presidente to fend for herself and resolved ourselves to five hours sleep.

We arrived in the heart of the Hunter Valley and the alpaca farm where the meeting was being held with two minutes to spare. We had stopped for an emergency Maccas (egg and bacon McHash brown, more fat than I normally consume in a week but yummy and fortifying), which had slowed us down by ten minutes. The Committee meeting was fine; we were in the garage while those attending the OGM gather outside in the carport. We made decisions, and all got along nicely. At five to eleven we close that meeting and moved towards the OGM. Hubby went outside, then came straight back in and said, ‘Have you taken your drugs, she’s here.’

After downing my daily dose of Atacand and Zanidip I braced myself and walked out. She was there. The Cantankerous Old Bat (COB) and her Short Husband (SH) had placed themselves in the back row and centre. As anyone who knows anything about public speaking/teaching the snipers always, always sit centre back. That means they cause maximum destruction and everyone has to turn around to look at them when they speak.

The meeting starting and proceeded peacefully until it came to the Treasurers report. Hubby presented his report and announced the region had a massive amount of cash in the bank. Then COB stands up and starts speaking, sorry not speaking, barking she launched into a tirade about how the trade debtor’s amount from November had changed from the November report to this report and that it was all wrong. When Hubby said ‘I can explain’ she started shouting that he was wrong, it was all wrong, he did the books wrong and anything he said would be wrong. Hubby tried to respond, she ignored him, she even ignored other members saying, ‘I would like to hear the Treasurers response’.

It all got messier, when Hubby stood up, pointed in a down motion and shout ‘COB, why don’t you just sit down and shut the f*ck up!’

At this point another member leap up and shouted ‘Mind the language please, there are children present,’ referring to a 13 year old. Another demanded an apology. Hubby agree and apologised to all present except COB. Then he said, ‘If I’m doing such a sh*it job, I will not continue. I resign!’ and walked out.

After a little pause, a few gasps and discussion on the lack of a Treasurer to continue reporting it was decided to move to the next item on the agenda, The Newsletter report.

I was up.

I gave my report, asked for submissions, gave deadline dates and announced that as of the end of the financial year I was resigning due to other commitments. Out of teh corner of my eye I could see her smirking.

Then it was my turn to be barked at. Unfortunately, as Hubby had already left I had to stand there and take it, but I shut her down. When SH muttered ‘bribery and corruption,’ regarding free advertisement to make up for errors and in payment for articles, I said (without looking at him) ‘This is standard process in the publishing industry’.
‘How would YOU know about that?’ was shouted
‘I have been published in several non-alpaca magazines and I’m studying for a Master in Writing.’
‘
As the meeting continued I was shaking. The hostess returned, after leaving at the same time Hubby and she had been crying, but was still white.

General Business was called and COB got stuck into me again about the 2007 Regional Calendar. This time, she seemed to step over an invisible line for many members when she stated that everyone who had sponsored a month was unhappy. (incidently, she neither sponsored or had animals involved) A couple of sponsors were there and one stood up and said, ‘I am extremely happy with the calendar and my ad. It was made clear to me from the start that my details would not appear under a picture of my animals.’ This must be the way to tell someone to shut the f*ck up when you're in the Salvation Army. It worked, so I’m not complaining.

The meeting was closed a little time later after a few other things were discussed and by all accounts COB and SH left without saying goodbye to anyone. I was inundated with people apologising to me for her behaviour. Why do people do that? It’s lovely and makes you feel loved and cared for, but why, ohh why do we do it? I do it too. I found myself saying sorry to the hostess for COB’s appalling attack on my Hubby. Hostess took lunch out to him while he was still sat in the car, while I fielded support at the house, for two hours. One lady, in her fifties with braids, who always attends meetings and never says a word, came up to me and said ‘If she’d spoken to like that, I’d have lumped ‘er one’.

In all we spent fourteen hours, that we will never get back, discussing alpaca politics. Not alpacas and their cute big brown eyes and nice soft fleece, but politics. Trust me when I say it’s not nearly as entertaining as having your foot broken.

(over 1000 words, sorry! ;-)

Swimming 11 & A Night Out with Trixy

Friday night before going I swam 32 lengths in 25 minutes of ladylike breaststroke.

After swimming I dressed and went over to Trixy's place for a couple of glasses of rather fine wine. While he dressed in leather pants and a blue US Navy vest, I waited in my school skirt, white shirt, red tie and black and white tartan corset. We caught a cab to VICE, and gossiped about the usual girlie stuff. I introduced him to the owner of the club and a few regulars and we had a game of pool.

Trixy is crap at pool. Better than me, but still crap:-) The others we played doubles with , were also pretty bad. One spectacular game ended when the Black was sunk. Which considering it took ten minutes to get the balls together between each game was a little disappointing.

A good night was had by all when we rolled in at 4.20am

One bad thing, at 6ish when I got up briefly, my heel cracked.

(150 words)

Swimming 10

30 lenghts of lady breast stroke in twenty-five minutes plus 10 minutes of aqua aerobics.