Gecko Song

As I promised myself at the start of this holiday, today I went for an Ayuredic massage. This is a traditional form of massage that involves getting slicked up with so much herbal oil you could fit though a key hole and having hands all over you.

It’s a bit different from the sorts of things you get in Aussie…actually scratch that…it’s totally different.

Firstly I was completely in the nud, except for a pair of paper pants then I had to sit on a little stool in front of some burning incense. The lady doing the do, started by pouring some hot oil into my hair and giving me a head massage, it was very relaxing. After the head, the shoulders and upper back got done and then I moved to the bed where I laid on my front. More warm oil, that smelled like molasses, was applied and rubbed in. Then I had to turn over. I was naked and had oil poured all over me. Then hands started rubbing. To say it was odd, strange and unusual would be an understatement.

Margaret Thatcher on a cold day popped into my head and made me cough, not a good thing when you’re flat on your back. So I thought about poetry – that cleared my mind!

After all the hot oily bit was done with I was covered in hot exfoliant mud then told to shower. It was over. It was a very quick hour, but an hour it was.

On to the facial. Here I had my face covered in what smelt and felt like cucumber yoghurt, then corn chips, the something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on the smell of…until it came to me and I wish it hadn’t. It smelt mildly like warm uncooked chicken that had just about turned for the worst. But, I’m guessing it must have really good cleansing properties ‘cause she used a lot of it. Then came more cucumber yogurt with cucumber eye patches. She left me like that for a while with nothing to do but think so I came up with this;

4 Poems about the stages of an Ayuvedic Facial

Cucumber yoghurt
smoothed with care on my face
curry must feel this

Corn starch packing slugs
the second exfoliate
rough and ready cleanse

The third eludes
day old warm chicken smell found
good for skin must be

Hardened egg yolk last
left in silence to compose
cucumber on eyes

It was great. Not even the screaming kids could destroy my tranquility for at least two hours after. They gave it a damn good try by swimming up and down and yelling right outside the hotel room. But I even managed to finish reading my extremely boring and storyless Uni text while ignoring them, I was that serene. It doesn’t happen often, I can tell yah! And my skin feels al silky soft.

Right now I have a gecko helping me write by singing at me from the wall above the desk. Do I really have to come home?

Horny Horny

After half a days travel we arrived at Kumarakom Lake Resort on Kerala, almost directly opposite Chennai on the pointy bit at the bottom of India. We had taken a taxi from the hotel to the airport, a plane (were I made a mistake and ate the lunch provided) from Channai to Kochi (Cochin to some) and then a luxury car (provided to the resort) from the airport to the resort.

I saw an elephant, but wasn’t quick enough with the camera.

Kumarakom and Chennai couldn’t be more different if they tried. In Chennai there is little green and vehicles everywhere. On the back of the trucks and auto-rickshaws Sound Horn is written. Hardly any cars have mirrors. They have either been removed on purpose or by accident. So everyone is constantly honking horns to let everyone else know they are there. And boy, do they need to let other know. The horn sounds come many and varied; honk honk, toot toot, blurp, beep beep, oh-e oh-e, tweet tweet, burp burp…I can’t spell the others.

In Kumarakom there is only green. Ohh and the lake. You can hear crickets, birds, the laughter of children (read screaming in the pool) and the constant (but pleasant) drumming of what turns out to be boat builders next door. From our room you can see Cormorants fishing next to the fishermen in their long punt boats and the rain as it comes across the lake. We are here in Monsoon season. It’s 25degrees with 90% humidity and perfect.

Dinner on the first night here was fish in local spices and coconut cream for me and Hubby had Prawn Masala. He was most pleased, it was served in a coconut!

At 2am the mistake on the plane came back to haunt me and meant I spent all of Tuesday very close to the room, sleeping and drinking Gastrolyte.

Farty Party, Table for Two

There is something about having curry for breakfast. Idly (rice pattie) and Samba (spicy veg soup) with coriander paste is becoming somewhat a favourite with me. I’m not sure if the rest of the planet will thank me for the methane emissions though.

By Sunday night the wedding was well and truly over. The families had left and it was just us (from the wedding party) left in the hotel. What to do?

We chilled in the Breeze hotel lobby café while waiting for the restaurant to open. We were soon joined by a couple from Portsmouth and for a horrible second or two we thought we weren’t going to be able to shake them. However, we did, purely by agreeing with them when they asked if the Kane and Able Café was the only place to eat in the hotel.

So at 7.45pm we pottered our separate way for dinner. We went to the Poonamallee Restauant and they, to Kane and Able.

We walked through the door and into Butlins, Minehead circa 1972. Ban-maire along one wall, dimmed lights and families scattered all over the shop. We asked if they were doing a-la-carte. Thank goodness they were, but just for us ‘cause we asked.

We asked for the wine list, we thought a nice bottle of something would help us relax a bit and we were brought the entire wine list. It consisted of a bottle of red or a bottle of white. We went for red, after all it’s very hard to stuff up Cab Sav.

After we had ordered from the International menu, Hubby ordered Crispy Lamb for the Oriaental Feast section, I ordered Seer Fish grilled with garlic and butter. I didn’t fancy curry again and neither did Hubby.

While we waited for our dinner to arrive we had a visit from the magic man. He made a fake bird appear from a coin, he made a king of spades disappear and turn into a three of spades, he made a little straw man stand up on his palm as he straightened out his hand and made the cloth disappear and reappear. For his final trick he made Rs5 of disappear from Hubbys wallet. After he’d left Hubby said ‘I fu*king hate cun…jurors’.

Dinner arrived and at last Hubby got what he’d been expecting from the wedding food. Pete had warned us that the food might be a bit spicy, only it hadn’t been. Now that Hubby was after something other than curry, it turned out his Crispy Lamb was the spiciest thing he’d had all week. He broke out in a sweat it was so spicy. Meanwhile my grilled fish was perfect.

As dinner arrived the musical entertainment started. One man and his Casio keyboard! He started with a rendition of Congratulations by Sir Cliff Richard then launched into a couple of Indian tunes followed by Que Sera-Sera.
This all got us to reminiscing about the worst hotel we had ever stayed at, the most disappointing restaurant and the most overrated tourist locations.
Hotel – We came to the conclusion it was the B&B in Weymouth, New Year 1997.
Restaurant – Had to be the Chinese in Llandudno were everything came out on plates with knives and forks.
Tourist Location – Warner Brothers Movie World. It’s only got four rides and everything else is a shop. We did of course exclude the Dog on a Tucker Box in NSW and the Aboriginal Canoe Tree in Goolwa SA, ‘cause we didn’t have to pay to see them.

What does the 0 stand for?

The wedding ceremony was taking place at 0430 on Sunday morning. One of the holy men had decreed that was the best time for Pete and Sara to get married.

Personally I have a theory…and it involves fitting in as many ceremonies in one day so he can afford to pay his mobile bill.

I’m going to try and describe what happened now, based on the snippets that relatives told me in broken English and from what I gathered by watching.

The groom was waiting for the bride and shortly after she arrived looking radiant in green and gold he was loaded up with an umbrella (shelter), and fan (?), a cane (support) and flower garlands. He then had to leave the room telling the father he no longer wanted to marry his daughter and the family of the bride have to chase after him and beg him to come back. This is all done the accompaniment of a drum band.

When he comes back in the bride and groom have to exchange flower garlands (this is the equivalent of exchanging rings) then sit in a swing set surrounded by family (mostly hers). Here they are blessed by holy men and have their feet washed with honey milk by various members of both families. Then they have 30 rice balls (15 coloured with turmeric and 15 coloured with the red powder used for the red bindi) moved around their heads three time both clock wise and anti-clockwise to ward off the evil eye. After this is done they move to the stage area again for more blessings.

The blessings are done in front of fire, as the fire is God, therefore any promises made before fire cannot be broken. The whole ceremony was beautiful and towards the end, once again, both fathers had to invite us to eat breakfast ‘cause we didn’t want to miss anything.

After breakfast we were cleared for a few hours, so we returned to the room and crashed! ‘Cause I was wearing a sari I propped a pillow behind my back and sleep in a chair, Hubby took advantage of the lovely hard bed. It was 0730 and we slept til 9. Then returned downstairs as instructed. Nothing was happening til lunch, and it was to be casual. So back upstairs, sari off and bed til lunch.

At lunch, once again curry on a bed of banana leaf, the waiters didn’t bother givning us a spoon and fork. We had been accepted.

The Pre-Wedding Day

Pete and Sara are having two days of wedding. On the afternoon before the wedding (in this case 6am tomorrow) there is an informal reception and a formal reception. During the informal reception, which was two hours long, the bride and groom are officially engaged and are given flower garlands by holy men to prove this. Yes, this takes two hours! On the plus side I got to wear a lovely blue and green sari and bling to match. Sara looked radiant in orange and red with jasmine in her hair and gold around her neck.

There was food and a change of clothes before the formal reception and this involved both fathers and an uncle inviting us to eat. The vegetarian curry was served on a banana leaf and was yummy. We even did as the locals do and ate with our fingers (right hand only, the left is considered dirty), thank Ganesh for poppadums and chapatti. Hubby got told off by the waiter when he tried to eat the lime pickle and of course they felt sorry for us and brought spoon and forks. We struggled, but prevailed in the end.

In the evening there was the official reception. Four hours of Pete and Sara sitting in big chairs wearing red and gold sari for her, biscuit suit with cream shirt and tie for him. When someone came onto the stage to give them a gift they would jump up and have their picture taken. This happened for FOUR HOURS! Maybe this was why Pete was late?

There was music provided by a pair of saxaphone playing, sari wearing ladies who were backed up by drums. They played all the tunes you know, if you live in India, if you don’t they all sound the same after the first three, so you’d better like them. We did.

We had our picture taken with the bride and groom. Twice.

We also smuggled a quick chat at the same time and found out that they were both bored and just wanted it all over with. With all the hassle of the last few weeks, weddingoveritis had well and truly set in, with only one more day to go.

The First Three Days - In reverse order

Friday – Rubbish, Rubble, Refuse and Bollywood Dancing

In a bid to mop up the errors of last night we spent the best part of Friday morning getting the bits we missed out last night ‘cause he was running late (‘cause his mum was being a right royal cow, quite apt seeing as we’re in India). We hired a taxi, here you arrange by the hour and agree price up front. Once again we had the White Austin Ambassadour, but the drivers English wasn’t any better. He had trouble finding the bling store, but between the three of us it was OK. Then he took us to Pondy Markets so I could buy blouses for under my sari’s. As they were pre-made, I could only get cotton ones and the silk ones will be made while I’m over the other side in Kochi.

After a bit of shopping we made a stop at a tourist spot. The Valluvar Kottam is a 101foot (31 metre) tall temple chariot. It’s moohoosive! It was in its own grounds proudly created and maintained by India Bank, but Hubby and I could see very evidence of maintenance. The grass was over grown, there was litter all over the place and walls were falling over. The Chariot itself was spotless, but that may have been because of its religious significance. To me it seems that the only things looked after are temples, little temple things by the side of the road (shrines) and overseas big brand name shops. It’s sad really, but the people of Chennai seem to have take Gandhi literally when he said ‘Pride leads to destruction’, unfortunately, if they don’t start having some pride, the town will fall down around their ears…I think it’s already started.

Lots of pictures were taken at the Chariot, and I couldn’t resist being a bit silly and pretending to run over by the wheels. On the way out of the gardens, we spotted a fruit seller and brought a Mango. Usually they sell slices, but having been warned about not knowing how clean the knife is, how long its been cut etc, we just brought a whole one. The lady looked most pleased when I handed over Rs10 without blinking. I’m fairly sure it had the stoopid white tourist tax in there somewhere but ten rupees is only about 30c it’s a bargain!

Back at the hotel we had a shower (temp today 38degrees with over 80% humidity) then dressed in some of our new local clothing. I’m sorry, but Hubby just looked daft in a pair of cotton pants and a kaftan (Pete, I know this isn’t right, but I can’t remember everything). On the other hand, my arse looked huge in my amazing expanding drawstring pants and didn’t really look much better no matter how much bling I put on.

The Mehendi party was being held across town near Sara's house and when we arrived (2 hours later thanks to PST, Pete Standard Time) everything was in full swing. The guava juice was following like…guava juice, but the dancing was going off and the henna girls were working like machines in the corner. I suppose applying henna is a bit like icing a cake and with plenty of skill and heaps of practice you get quick. But these girls would do a hand in less than five minutes. It’s amazing to watch, but try standing from a sitting position without bending your wrists or smudging the freshly done work of art.

I danced, not a lot, but I got a little in between having my hands done. Then it was time for dinner. Guess what we had…yeap, curry! It’s was lovely and everyone was kind enough not to expect us to eat with our hands like the locals. A spoon and fork was provided. They had even cooked mild dishes, afraid we wouldn’t be able to handle the true local fare. Hubby was saying it wasn’t hot enough but my lips had that nice curry tingle by the end.

First Night - Sari Shopping

We met up with Peteat about five and he took us to Pondy Bazaar. Both Hubby and I had to buy our outfits for the weekend and we got a chance to take a walk in the shopping area. Our first stop was Jhillmill, a shop on four floors for women only. It’s a bling store! I was greeted by pete’s Mother-in-Law who insisted on showing me around. Consequently, I didn’t have that much time to browse and therefore didn’t get what I would have really liked. But I did get stuff I liked, so it’s all good.

After buying bling, we walked to the sari shop. On the way we stopped at a jasmine seller and brought a string. All day I have been seeing ladies with these beautiful creamy white flowers in their hair. Now I had some. Only I have short hair and no where to pin it, so I’m wearing it like a scarf and really look like a tourist. Ohh hang –on…I could look more like a tourist, Hubby and I are the only western faces I’ve seen all day!

Before we came here, pete was warning us about all the things that would be overwhelming. Traffic, heat, pick pockets, amount of people etc…what he didn’t warn us about and by far the most overwhelming thing so far is the shop assistants. In a shop were everything is price it’s slightly different from a street stall (in so much as no hard selling) but as soon as you pay special attention to one item they grab it from you and put it to one side for review later. In the jewellery shop this meant I ended up leaving with a bangle I have no hope of getting over my massive white knuckles, which is a shame, ‘cause it’s very pretty.


The Sari shop was called RmKV. I saw it a few weeks ago on telly because they have the longest wedding sari in the world, 250metres or something. I remembered the shop from seeing the marble stair cases and walls and walls of neatly folded saris. I was in colour heaven. I desperately wanted to take pictures, but again the not wanting to like a tourist thing got the better of me. I wanted to get close to the silks and breathe them in. I wanted to get close pictures of the swatches of colours, but most of all I wanted the 50,000 colour sari that cost Rs44,000. I figured I just wouldn’t get enough wear out of it. Instead I picked three, a turquoise and mint green, an orange and red and a gold and forest green. I also had to get a salwar kameez (trousers and matching long top) for the Mehendi (henna/hen party) on Friday. I ended up in burgundy raw silk with beading and braid work for a snip at A$75.

Pete was a great help and as usual had impeccable taste. We rolled in late and didn’t waste time falling asleep.

Morning One – Damp Patches

Our Five Star hotel in the heart of Chennai offered us the accommodation that the Road house in Karuah would have rivalled. I know I sound ungrateful, but it’s all so run down. There are huge damp patches on the walls and the whole smells like my grandma pad. The Lobby has that whole 80’s decadence thing going for it, then you step into the lift and it’s like being on the set of Mission Impossible where behind the doors it’s really a warehouse.

We woke up after a fairly restless night sleep on our bed of nails and had a shower without getting any water in our mouths. We cleaned our teeth with bottled water and locked absolutely anything worth over $5 in the safe before leaving for our morning of being driven around. The taxi we were in was a 1950 Austin Ambassador, from the outside it was immaculate, on the inside, its age was beginning show.

We started at the Kapaleswarar Temple, a magnificent structure dating back over 1300 years with over 900 sculptures in all colours of the rainbow. We had to walk from the taxi with bare feet and were welcomed by one of the temple ‘pujari’ (the equivalent of a verger, I think). He gave us a whistle-wind, leaving little time for me to take photos, but I did get a few.

Left - Right : Ganesh _ the elephant god – always carried by mighty mouse, Lakshmi _ goddess of wealth – she just stands there and looks pretty, Brahma _ the creator – well, he just creates and Saraswathi _ goddess of learning – she travels on a lion

The Wishing Tree - where people make wishes!

On to a bit of shopping. We started in a Kashmir carpet place. We were given cardamom tea and shown many yummy hand knotted carpets in a multitude of colours and designs. I had my eye on a red/orange diamond design made of cashmere but at US$1900 it was a little out of my holiday spending budget. I settled on a cashmere pashmina from the Spenser Plaza instead. The price sounded a lot in rupees, but when converted into A$ it was hard to resist for only 50bucks.

Food wise we’re okay. I managed to have curry for breakfast, while Hubby stuck to bread and jam. For lunch we went all out and went to Pizza Hut. Bit odd I know, go all that way and have pizza, but…have you ever had a Malai Seekh Kebab pizza? I have now ;-)

Off to buy Sari’s later…


The First 7 Hours of my Holiday

3hrs and 55 minutes into the flight and I’m bored. And I’ve already slept for 90 minets. This is why I hate flying. I know, I know I could watch the movies, or listen to the music provided, but somehow when on a plane I just can’t get into them. I’ve taken some nice photos out of the window (they don’t call it the Red Centre for no reason) and had a wicked dream. I know that the retelling of dreams can be boring, but …

On a plane, when terrorists jump out of their seats in various parts of the plane with guns (how did they get them on board, they took my hairgel!) so I sit there for a while much girlie screaming and gun waving goes on. After everything has settled down I jump from my seat, and charge the rough looking sort closest to me while his back is turned. Hubby is still in his seat shouting for me to stop and behave. I knock the guy down and use the butt of his gun to break his nose. Crouched low I move forward into the galley and prepare to take on the next. This one sees me coming and raises his gun. I kick it from his hands just before he pulls the trigger, then smashed the heel of my hand into his nose, cracking his nose and snapping his head back. He recovers, but I strike him in the shin with the side of my foot, taking him down. The bloke sat in the seat behind the bad guy grabs him by the throat and flashes an air marshal badge at me. ‘Ma’am you really should do as they say, you know?’
‘stuff that, the bastards at the airport thought it was me with my amazing exploding hairgel, I going to prove them wrong.’
As I make my way forward I can’t see any more bad guys, but I know they’re there, at least two more. In the next galley I change sides of the plane and move forward slowly. There is a young family sat in the seats, cowering and I realise that they are looking at the bad guy. He’s hiding behind the wall, waiting for me to make a mistake. I stop in the galley and look around, I find the coffee pot. Slowly I move forward and swing the coffee pot around the corner in front of me. He screams and jumps out at me. He has me held by the wrists, all I can think of is to bring my knee up and flatten the family jewels. He releases my right hand, I reach behind me a pick up one of the child’s colouring pencils and bring it down into his eye socket. He screams and falls backwards, I jumped onto him and plunged the pencil into his heart….

At that point Hubby woke me up saying we were over the Olga and I realized that I watch far to much Buffy, Alias and Blade!

But to be honest, I like that I can kick arse in my dreams.

Pedestrians Don’t Bounce

I did a bit of driving around town today in a last minute dash to clean up a few things before going away tomorrow and found myself wondering why people continue to take on tonne or two of metal and rubber.

I had at least four people step out in front of me while I was driving down the street at 50kph. One girl even ran out in front of the bus that was next to me, when she caught what I said about her actions through my open window, she had the nerve to turn and tell me not to be rude. The silly bit*h ran out in front of a bus!

How many times have you stepped out in front of traffic and lived to tell the tale?

PS. 14 hours til I fly

The Park

I had the pleasure of walking through Hyde Park at 1pm today. I also had the pleasure of walking through Hyde Park on Saturday at about the same time. I'm writing about this mostly uniteresting fact 'cause I was amazed how different the energy was today compared to Saturday.

On Saturday, the park was filled from Liverpool Street to the Archibald Fountain with picnicing couples, practising buskers, hungover buddies and people casually reading or chatting. The sun was shining like today so there was even girls sunbaking in the last of the sunshine the season has to offer.

Today it was lunch time on a work day. At the Liverpool Street end the park was the host to bitching birds, lunching loners, runners, sitter upers, bragging blokes and people just passing through in a hurry. By the time I had crossed Park Street and walked to the Fountain the workies had thinned out a bit and there was a bit more weekend action with all the tourists. I even noticed most of the pigeons and ibises had gravitated to this end of the park, I suppose the tourists are a softer touch.

They are certainly softer on the ears and easier on the sress levels.

PS. It's 36 hours til my plane leaves to take me to India...woo hoo

Unlike Eurovision

Just like they gave the UK no points in the Eurovision, it looks the Eastern Europeans also give Jodie Sorrels blog ‘Nil Points’.

I like Analytics, you find out all sorts of totally useless stuff about your readers and non readers.

Sunday in the Country

I love my new camera!

The Hen was a Man

As you’ll know by now Sam and Sara are getting hitched next week in India. So in grand tradition of girls getting married we (Edna, Trixy and Rachel) took Sam out for a night on the town. First we dressed him up like a naughty school boy with the addition of a tiara and vale, then we plied him with alcohol then we walked him to Hellfire.

Trixy looked lovely in black leather; Rachel has a fine body for tight denim and what can only be described as Spandex. Corporate tart suited Edna, even if she did forget her skirt and I donned a corset and a red wig. Once inside, champagne was ordered and the groom toasted, many times. He even had his picture taken by the official photographer.

We all got to see the first and second shows of the evening too. The first was Christa Hughes who used to sing lead vocals for Machine Gun Fellatio. She has the most awesome voice, so I’m adding her to my groupie listing for 2007. Later Gypsy Wood (you may remember her from such stage shows and blog entries as Feasting on Flesh) did a little show where she popped all the balloons she was dressed in with large sharp knives. It would also seem that they were filled with blood or red food colouring (I hope it food colouring) ‘cause today I have lots of little red spots on my white shirt.

This morning however, Edna and I tried to forget about the fun had the night before but the brightness of the sun, the party feet and desire to eat a fully cooked fry-up breakfast told us that we’d had a really good night. We had a Doris day, sitting in Hyde Park watching he world go by and eat its packed lunch with a knife and fork, shopping (we even met with Sam for a short time), drinking hot chocolate and eating sushi. We over indulged and Edna brought a polar bear coat. I’m pretty sure I encouraged her, she just needs some rich ‘bloke’ (not her word;-) to take her skiing in New Zealand so she can wear it.

Thank goodness the wedding is dry.

My First Restaurant Review

With India only five sleeps away I paid S a visit for de-yetification. Edna came with me so she could have her eyelashes tinted and look like a cow again. She has the most amazing eyelashes, long and curly.

After S had worked her magic, Edna and I grabbed some dinner at a steak joint in Erina Shopping Centre and as promised here’s my review of an eatery ;-)

Seven Eagles Spur
The Hive, Erina Shopping Centre

Only a few months ago this location was another steak place with slightly different décor. Now it's part of the Spur Steak Ranch chain and bright, but oddly welcoming. The seats look comfortable and the booth we sat in wrapped its cow printed vinyl around us.

The menu, presented on printed board, offered the usual steak house fare. Burgers, Tex-Mex, grilled stuff, combos, salad and of course steaks. We ordered a Starter Platter, a Chicken and Guacamole salad and a side of fries to share.

The plates were clean and the food arrived promptly. Most importantly it was hot, which meant freshly cooked. The Starter Platter had on it calamari, crumbed mushrooms and spicy chicken wings. The flavour was good, but the wings looked suspiciously like legs. The salad was disappointing. How hard is it to get a salad right? The iceberg was soggy from all the vinaigrette dressing, the guacamole had either too much lemon or onion in it, making it bitter, it could have been both, but the chicken almost redeemed it by being moist and barbeque tasty.

The service was quick and friendly, they even did a song and dance for the 80 year old birthday girl sitting a few tables away with her whole dynasty.

Entrees $3.50 – 19.95
Mains $14.95 - $30

Poetry Helps!?

A week or so ago while in the office I heard Sally’s’ boss (she sits just over the partition from me) say ‘well done Sally, it’s so nice to know you know what you’re doing’.

My immediate reaction was to flick her a quick one liner saying, ‘Ohh my god, how condescending was that?’
We’d been talking rhyme only the day before and I got back, ‘tis not just you, i felt it too, we did not misconstrue, on the conclusion we drew. I might just say, that it happens every day!!’

I was felling silly so I responded and before we knew it I could hear chuckles coming from the other side of the wall and then the email came

‘We could call this couplet therapy’ Sally said after the 10th email. For an accountant she has a great sense of humour ;-)

Over the past few days we have exchanged such gems as the following four;

why don’t you have a little rest
so when you wake you're at your best
for me ill stay awake
as i have to watch the snake

I had a rhyme for now,
but it seemed the sow
and the odd cow
didn't cut it some how ;-)

off the cuff
is exciting stuff
i'll take her guff
til ive had enough
lets go again
my rhyming friend!

What a witch,
with an itch
who will snitch
to that bitch ;-)

The Dangers of Email

I remember in the dark ages before email existed. People had to telephone each other at either the office or at home, ‘cause in the days before there was no mobile phone either. Or a letter had to be written and faxed or mailed with a stamp. Of course computers had been invented but they were as big as a small car and printers had their own rooms.

What with those days only being a few short years ago (I have to protect my age, you know ;-) it’s understandable that people are still making mistakes when writing email. Although I don’t think anyone under the age of 30 has any excuses after all they’ve at least always had access to email at work (office based jobs of course).

Over the last few months I have been victim (yes, victim is the right word to use) of carelessly or hastily written emails. I even wrote about it in last Editors message in the Alpaca magazine. So, after receiving another one of these ill-considered emails only this week, I thought I would share my thoughts on email etiquette with you, my readers.

Before you press the send button;
1. Re-read it and think to yourself – if I received this would I be upset/offended/angry?
2. On work related email think to yourself – Is this constructive feedback, have I given a solution to what I’ve criticised/said I don’t like?
3. On email where you are being sarcastic, think to yourself – Is it clear I’m being sarcastic by the libel sprinkling of smiles? ( I know I guilty of this one on occasion).
4. On an email where you use acronyms, swear words or anything else that may be considered ‘dodgy’ think – Is this appropriate?
5. Check if you’ve used UPPERCASE, be aware that you’re shouting, do you need to be shouting?

If you go by all of this and it still doesn’t feel right (and I may have missed something, please feel free to comment) get someone else to read it before you press the send button.

I always think about it as if I’m writing a letter (unless it’s someone I know really well and it’s a one liner). Address the reader (Dear, To, Hi, Hey! etc.), the body of the email/letter (broken into paragraphs is required) and a sign off (regards, sincerely, bye, etc.).

Of course, I by no means get emails right all the time, but I do make the effort each and every time I write one. If I make a mistake I like to think I’m big enough to admit it and move on.

And by the way, here’s a few smiles you may encounter if you ever get email from me and you may like to brush up;

:-) – A smile

;-) – A wink (cheeky)

:-D – A wide grin (I’m really happy)

and finally…

A kiss - :-*

Moon Shadow

TheOtherAndrew did this test thingy a couple of days ago and I thought I'd give it a go too.

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Nose In, Arse Out

Over the weekend, Hubby and I stayed in a motel called the Acacia Motor Inn in Armidale; it’s just off the main road into town and well lit when arriving at night.

It was clean, warmish and provided most of the items required when away from home. There was a bed (extremely hard), a shower (chill to scold in 0.5 second), towels (blue, soft and big enough for a baby’s bottom, but not mine) and mini bars of pineapple scented soap. No mini bottles of shampoo, we had to buy that. They also provided a TV that piped SBS, ABC, channels 7, 9,10 and Sky News into the room. But no internet wireless as promised by the website we booked it on.

For the car windows, a bucket of cold water and a squeegee mop was provided.

The sign on the wall next to the bucket has got me thinking though.

PARK NOSE IN!

Why do I have to park my car nose in?
Is it because they’ve had trouble with others stuffing up the reverse parking action?
Is it because it looks neater?
Why do I have to abide by this weird request?

I would love to know the reason, it’s ranks up there with other strange requests that you see on signs about the place, such as;

Keep Off the Grass
Park Rear In
No Mobile Phones
No Picnics

Ok, I can understand the no mobile one, but the others…please explain.

Eurovision ROCKS!

More raffle tickets and lucky dips were sold in Armidale before leaving at 2pm and commencing our journey south and back to Sydney with a couple of stops to take pictures of roads... one day I’ll explain.

The rush was caused by our need to get home for the Eurovision Song Contest. Gotta love this weird-arse-freaky-deeki-f*cked up European tradition! Even though it seems it’s no longer purely European.

You get 30 odd European countries who write song especially for this, pick unknowns to sing them, put them in various way out costumes, trial choreography for monkeys, break the budget for big LCD displays and pyrotechnics. Put it all together you have a visual feast that has spawned drinking games galore around the world since 1956.

Skull a shot for every ‘La la la’ or ‘dah dah dah’’
Skull a shot for every song sung in ‘national costume’
Skull a shot every time a country votes 12 (top) points for their direct neighbour.
Skull a shot every time the UK gets points (it’s very rare, so don’t rely on this one for a good night).

If nothing else watch it for Terry Wogan’s commentary. He takes the p*ss all night and still gets invited back.

Congratulations Serbia for winning with 268 points!

UK came last with 17... There’s always next year!

Armidale – Wool Expo

After a quick hop from Sydney to Armidale (500kms) on Friday night then a committee meeting where we happily committed to spend $20,000 on a new trailer, a cal…ohh you don’t care! ;-) I don’t even care and I’m responsible for at least $8000 of that (raffle, cal…once again, you don’t care).

Saturday saw us rising at a stupid hour for a weekend morning and making our way to the Armidale show grounds for Wool Expo. Once there I manned the raffle ticket table all day and entertained the kids with lucky dips. Hubby took pictures of the show taking place at the other end of the marquee.

In the evening we left all the wool people, both of the alpaca and sheep kind to their barn dance and went to the movies. We saw Spiderman 3. both Edna and theotherandrew were right, it good for eye candy and it is 16 hours long.

Sorry Edna, but I like Tobey Macquire, but as we have established on many of our evenings of cider + over analysis…I like dorks!

But the highlight of the evening was getting back to our hotel and watching the qualifying round of Eurovision! Hosted by the traditional - she who wears a hot pink fish tail dress and he who dons a whiter than white suit. Edited highlights below…unlike SBS…

Viva La Eurovision!

Countdown in Finnish! (most certainly spelt wrong three, two, one in Finnish)…
Goalme
Gooxie
Uooksie

Bulgaria – Bondage chain mail outfits with kick arse drums and lots of red
Iceland – I know you’re Europe but when did this turn into the Imitate your favorite 80s hair rock band Contest?
Switzerland – When did Bonnie Tyler do vampire chic?
Albania – When did Andrew Lloyd Webber start writing songs for Eurovision?
Denmark – Ohh my god! Priscilla eat your heart out?
Serbia – Androgynous opera with big heavy glasses.
Czech Republic – ZZTop when they were 30
Portugal – Euro pops in really short ruffled white PVC
FYR Macedonia – The mirror trousers blinded me to the music…and they qualified!
Norway – The amazing ripable dress, just like Bucks Fizz circa 198something
Malta – ‘Loving you gives me vertigo’ with lyrics and shirtless violin player/gong banger was gob smacked!
Hungary – A bus top sign and suitcase helped the song how…and what’s with the Sandie Shaw ripoff by going barefoot?
Estonia – ‘we’re sitting in the rain and sipping cold champagne’ was the stunning opening line to a wind machine on overdrive, and they didn’t get through…shame!
Belgium – described a cross between Mika and Huggybear in gold lame and a back up playing piano/guitar wearing a turgoise wide collar with white tie, sh*t, but really excited.
Slovenia - Looks like Mortica Addams in a leather bodice and rag skirt. In her right hand she had a panel of LED’s that she used to light her face. Sounded like a nice song but I couldn’t understand it.
Turkey – ‘Shake it up, shake in, tell me what you’re thinking’ sung by PT Burham
Austria - The more interesting thing about this one was the back up dancers dressed in red feather boa and sequins and the fact the singer emerged out of a a giant boa and the pyrotechnics.
Latvia – the guys were wearing top hats and carrying white roses… It was the Six Latvian Tenors in Denim! Weirdly enough, it could be a winner.

New Band

Edna and I went out for our usual Wednesday night dinner at Sushi Train followed by drinks at the Brighton tonight. Sushi Train did us proud again with plenty of our type of $3 plates sailing past us along with the pickled ginger and wasabi.

The Brighton (corner of Riley & Oxford Street) was quiet, only half a dozen patrons nursing beers and smoking. When someone decided it was time to play rap on the juke box we decided it was time to move to the Macquarie (corner Goulburn and Wentworth) for some real band action.

Our Wednesday night consist of a few ciders accompanied by much over analysis of boys, work colleagues and anyone else who may cross our paths. We also reminisce about past loves and debate about the merits of future ones. Anyway, to night we were talking about email flirtations and past loves in great detail.

While we listened to the new resident band I remembered and told a story about a fella’ I had around for dinner when I was about 17 or 18. I though Edna was going choke. She certainly released some cider back into the world via her nose…Anyway…I invited this guy (can’t remember his name) around for dinner, I cooked a salad with grilled chicken and boiled egg…practically a Caesar without the funky sauce. He arrived for the dinner bearing gifts. A large pot of yoghurt. Blackcherry, my favorite.

After dinner we had yoghurt for dessert then took the dog for a walk. When he lent in for a snog he put his hand on my boob. That was my cue to say ‘so time for home then’. I never saw him again.

Ohh… the innocence of youth and how times change!

The Zion Band - The Wednesday night May residents of the Macquarie Hotel lured the customers tonight into a false sense of security. In the first of three sets of forty minutes they played a cool mix of reggae and jazz. A nice soothing sound that allowed you to continue your conversation while enjoying the sounds coming from the corner.

The second set hotted up and let the members of the band show their true talents. The lead singer/bass palyer had a voice that would challenge Shaggy, but only on a bad day, while the saxophone player was the true virtuoso. During the set I saw him play at least five instruments, the Sax, the flute, a fife, a trumpet, a tambourine and the maracas. At one point I had a flash on Ron Burgundy from Anchorman playing jazz flute but it soon passed.

They played their own songs with a touch of Bob Marley and Lou Reed. Their happy joy joy music had the toes tapping and the shoulders bumpin’. Titles like Amnesia , Liberty and Satellite had a touch of rap, but not enough to drive away. In fact it possible that we’ll be back for more Shadow play.

Rumbled

A few weeks ago I made a boo boo on this here blog. Since then I have been chatting to someone under my pseudonym who has met me at the gigs, hoping that sooner rather later they would figure out who I am. I couldn’t tell… it had gone to far.

Now it’s all out in the open…my identity has been revealed through a sequence of deductions and carefully place questions.

I can breathe again when I go to pub gigs that I’m not going to say something to give myself away. I had no idea how tight my shoulders had got from the tension. I can even listen to the music again without thinking…ohh sh*t!

New Sibling

My mum emailed me today to tell me I have a new baby brother. His name is Freddy and he’s seven weeks old.

I don't think my other 'brother' Percy is that impressed. 'Cause Freddy keeps chasing him and trying to bite his tail. Boy will be boys and cats and dogs will fight.

A Town Where I Lived

I went into Analytics today to check my stats and saw that I’d had a visitor from Guildford in Surrey, UK.

Say Hi please, if it’s you, I grew up there!

A Trip to Cutesville

A brief visit to Taronga Zoo today resulted in me seeing a somewhat rare occurence.

A koala awake!

Koala sleeps well
awake for only sixty
then asleep again

Butcher Art

On Thursday I went to see an alpaca being processed into back strap, rump and neck joints, among other things. It was fairly confronting to see four of the fleeced animals sans fleece, but in the line of duty as roving reporter for the alpaca magazine, I needed to finally put all the bad rumours t bed.

I have to confess, the worst thing about the whole experience was seeing the butchers use the ban saw without any sort of guard.

I took heaps of photos, but only the following are suitable for publication on a blog.

Ohh yeah...and they gave me a hat!

My Angel comes up Trumps, Again!

My friend Edna, I may have mentioned her before, has just given me the key to her success…and I always thought she had magic dust!

Technology Humour

I heard something on the radio last night during my drive home (only time I listen to FM) from an American comedian that made me giggle. He was talking about new technology and about how sometimes it just doesn’t make life better. He started by saying he had had a call from his mobile phone service telling him about the benefits of text messaging and they went something like this…

Do you find it’s just too convenient to talk on the phone?
Do you find you need more areas in your life were you have to type?
Do you like the convenience of not being able to see or hear the emotions of those you are communicating with?
Do you like to make you short communications long and laborious?

If you do you should use text messaging!

The Evil, that is DIY Furniture

A long time ago, in a land far from here a little man, or woman came up with the concept of furniture that you put together yourself with the assistance of some dowels, screws and glue…ohh, and a hammer.

My friend Edna, required some of this furniture last weekend and we took a drive out to the rather large store, wandered round, picked up some other bits (not quite so necessary items), a bookshelf (she’s literary), a bedside table disguised as a five drawer filing unit, and a rather funky little lamp table for the lounge.

I should also mention that that have a little Swedish food shop and they have Dime Bars in various forms. I got the Bar form, the mini bar form, but Edna drew the line at the Dime Nuggets. Spoil sport! ;-)

Edna, I believe doesn’t really like Ikea ‘cause she has trouble putting the items together so they look like the items on display, but Newk, found the bag they provided highly amusing.

Stereotypes and Driving

Towards the end of another 400km of driving last night I got to thinking about driving in general (this may have been prompted by the guy in the Toyota Landcruiser tail gating, but I’ll let you judge that ;-)

Anyway…there are many stereotypes when it come to driving and cars that I have heard, at least one I believe to be fairly actuate, others I think are a lot of old tosh!

For instance, I think the one about women being bad drivers is true. Yes, Yes, I know I have just let down women kind (myself included) by saying this, but I have a little evidence to back this one up.

In general, women do not drive as many k’s as men, they tend to drive larger cars (read 4WD that never see dirt) ‘cause the feel safer in them (what about everybody else?) and more often than not are looking at what’s happening on the back seat rather than looking at the road. I have witnessed this, here the tally for yesterday alone.

Women so little they could hardly see over the steering wheel, let alone the bonnet – 1
Women looking over their shoulder, swatting the kids playing up in the back seat and hence lane drifting – 2
Women driving 80km on a freeway in the middle lane, hunched over the steering wheel with eyes the size of saucers – 2
Women chatting to their girlfriend so much they go 20kms out of the way, opps… that was me and Edna, last weekend on the way to Ikea ;-) - 1
Women chatting to the girlfriend in the passenger seat and lane drifting – 1
Women to scared to change lanes, so indicate, then don't move, then indicate agian. A girlfiend from work calls them 'Twitchers' - 2 (Thanks, Sally).

On the other hand, it was a man driving up my backside so close he could have opened the boot and climbed in.

Self Portrait

Jab-a-rooney

At the end of May, Hubby and I are going to Chennai in India so we can attend Sam and Sara’s two day Hindu wedding. They had the ‘engagement’ back in December last year. Now is the time for the BIG days!

And we are going. The trouble is the raft of jabs we have to had to have to keep us safe from the many bugs and diseases that apparently plague the residents of South India. So on Friday Hubby and I trotted along to the doctors and came out looking like pin cushions. I had the first HepB, HepA & Typhoid, Rabies booster and Flu. I also had to have a blood test ‘cause I’ve never had Chicken Pox and it’s rife where we’re going. They had to test for natural immunity.

Anyway, I’ve had hardly any sleep for the whole weekend due to my arms feeling like they had been in a vice. The thing is, I know the next trip to the docs on the 21st is going to be as bad (Hep B part 2, Tetanus, MMR and possibly Chicken Pox if I fail the test).

But I don’t mind, I love that I am able to attend the wedding of a good friend and be a curiosity to the locals (white, short hair, little jewellery).

Bring on the next round of jabs.

Fatten Up for Winter

It’s that time of year were my body is telling me to eat! On Sunday I got a crazing that only comes between May and September.

I was in a shopping centre with Edna, buying random, miss-matched pieces of furniture when I suddenly stopped and though, I need fish pie tonight, with broccoli. So I gathered the materials, and conjured up the family recipe in my head and started looking forward to stuffing my face with hot, steaming potatoes, fish and veg.

Why do our bodies do that? During the summer I drop weight, which is good, ‘cause I need to. Then come the first sign of slightly inclement weather and your body start telling you to start eating as if the food supply of the planet has dried up.

Trust me, I don’t need to fatten up to protect against the chill of a Sydney Winter. I have a rather nice selection of jumpers and jackets for that, and if I follow nature’s demands, most of those will cease to fit.

Two-Up Day

After a mammoth lie-in this morning after going and seeing The Basics last night (they rocked by the way, Trixy and I hid at the back of the overcrowded room, and no review). I spent the day on the road driving up the coast and dealing with idiots with fog lights on. I popped in to see Miss Eudoxia and then an alpaca breeder to see if I could get some pictures for the 2008 Alpaca Calender (which I did).

It was interesting to see Miss E. She started a new job and was all enthused so I heard lots of tales of the new love in her life. It was very exciting.

I did observe a minutes silence at eleven for the Anzacs. Hubby didn’t, he was snoring!

Flushed

For the last few days I’ve been away for work. And apart from taking some weird and wacky shots along the way (can’t post, work pictures) there have been very few highlights.

The radio did ask a question that seemed to be on everyone’s minds in the town I was in after the news reported that singer Sheryl Crow had suggested that to stop Global Warming we should only use one square of loo paper each time we visit the em…toilet. Of course she believes that there may be time that more than one sheet may be required, but generally it’s a sheet at a time.

The question was…Are you a folder or a scruncher?

Sadly Missed

Whilst sitting in my hotel room in Hay last night I thought about my friends watching my favourite local band (the Basics) playing in the Hopetoun in Sydney.

This morning I received a text message rubbing in just how great they were, even though they didn’t play the Lumberjack song as promised last week. By all accounts Tokenview, the support band weren’t too bad either.

Ohh well… always next week, the last of the four gigs in Sydney.

Tart Up, Ship Out

Before I leave for my work jaunt to the wilds of outback Australia, I though I would pay a little attention to my blog and give it a face lift.

I’ve sorted out the entry archive so it’s a little more user friendly, I’ve sorted out which blogs I read from which blogs I write and I’ve added a picture of Jodie.

This is how I see her!

I’m sure those that know me will think I’m shorter, wider and less auburn, but I can dream. I have dream of being as fit and sexy as Madonna…I have a few year until I catch up.

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)