PC or not PC.... was there even a question?

I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.

Count to 10. Breathe......

So after asking the alpha males of my office to tone down the blatantly slanderous remarks referring to any religion that failed to "just accept that Christmas is our culture and they should just shut up about it already" (yes, that's verbatim folks), I was fairly confident that I had voiced my objections to any particularly racial, discriminating or marginalising opinions.

I thought.

I am left wondering then, at what point MY MANAGER thought I might enjoy some rather distasteful jokes? I am talking REALLY offensive. Like even David Brent would have known to keep these ones to himself.

And when my reaction was to say that I thought he was both inappropriate and unfunny, why then did he need to keep telling the jokes to others to see what they thought?

Have I stumbled into the '70's by accident?

Still, tis the last day of work before some fun happy times with family and friends and countdowns to good good times indeed. So I will not let them spoil my day.

Happy happy festive season everyone - and here's to a cracker 2008!!!

The Tonne.

This is exciting. This is my 100th post.
I figured I should make it special, but then realised I should have something to say in that case... and I don't really have anything to say. So then I thought maybe I should wait until I had something to say before I went ahead and wasted this momentous occasion by just writing a lot of words.
But that would not be like me at all.
So here it is. The century. The big 1 0 0.

Quite the anti climax really.

On a brighter note however, I am feeling incredibly blessed and lucky and somewhat happy right now. I mean, a lot of people get a little stressed this time of year, even depressed, I have in the past felt that way. This year however, I am looking around thinking to myself, Ms Buckley, take note - you have a wonderful group of friends, a fantastic family and you have been lucky enough to have some amazing heart flutterings this year.... smile and enjoy young lady..... and so, I am.

Merry Christmas everyone.... take care and have fun!!! Xx

Clock watching....

I am being a very naughty employee today.
Only working a half day as it is, that should mean I knuckle down, get stuck into it, tick things off the list.
I have had 6 cups of tea. 6. Its 1030am. That's mental. 2 biscuits (standard), made 2 personal calls, sent 4 text messages, checked 3 bank accounts, read 3 blogs, commented on 2 blogs, sent 14 emails, chatted, daydreamed and started planning for the arrival of my dear friend Caomhan. Yay.
With only half an hour left in the office for the day, surely I cannot start on a project now....I wonder what bargains are on Amazon today?

Blank me in the morning....

I am sleepy but very happy this morning thanks to the first in the new round of performances of Blank! The Musical.

We had a full house, a happy ready for action audience and a cast that was damn excited to be together again.

Impro has been a bit of an up and down for me over the last few months - mainly up - but you know, sometimes a trying experience that has me wondering if I will be doing it for much longer - but when you get to jump up and sing and do silly things with a cast of friends and people clap at the end, well, you fall in love with impro all over again.

Thank you Blank! ("Lets show the world the great big Wang inside.....")
I cannot wait to take this show to the Melbourne Comedy Festival.

Happy Happy Days

I had a birthday on the weekend. My 32nd. Life is good. Very good. I am smiling. A lot. There is a lot to smile about. Remind me of this the next time I post a whingey blog.

I think its going to be a good year.

And for the record, surprises are good. Very good. Incredibly good. Like totally AWESOME.

I can feel a list of "top things for '07" coming on. But not yet..... though the weekend that just was will be on the top for sure.

Hip Hip Hooray indeed!!!!

Highs and Lows

The day started badly.

A cockroach decided to share my shower. It was a disturbing five minutes.

Ten minutes into my 1.5 hour drive to work I realised there was a piece of glass on my shirt which was cutting my arm. Nice.

Then.... Buddy Holly (Weezer) was played on the radio. Even though I can listen to this song whenever I want to, there is nothing as joyful as the spontaniety of a radio station playing one of your favourite songs. Maybe this day would not be so bad afterall.

Then the coffee machine at the service station I stopped in at to stop, revive, survive BROKE on me mid-latte.

An unfair balance of lows at only 7.45am.

Hit me with the highs Friday. Go on. I dare you to!

Old Man Radio

What is it with the average office and the middle class white male in his 50's who forces us to listen to his "shock jock talk back" radio stations?

Just to annoy him, I have taken to singing happy birthday to everyone that says good morning to me today.

Its working.

And its also putting me in a pretty good mood.

.... Things are looking up.

Perfect timing...

So the text message reads:

"Have you started thinking of your next trip up north? I'm thinking somewhere fabulous in Europe together also...."

Should I? Could I? Quite probably!

(breathes into the paper bag....)

Then my phone rings :

"Hey, I phoned you by accident....but hey! Have a great day..."

And with that, my day is made.


(puts the bag in the bin - wait - its paper - recycle.)

Blah.

I could not get out of bed this morning. I just did not want to. Not through lack of sleep - actually for the first time in a while I had a long, deep, fitful sleep. No, I was very wide awake and just did not want to leave my bed.
Previously in my life, when I have felt this way, or if I cried in the shower, it was time to resign. I have had something like 18 jobs in my 17 years of employment - and the last 7 years have been spent with my current employer. The only thing I have stuck to longer than this job was school - which was obligatory, and being a Buckley, which, while enjoyable, has been unavoidable.
Now that I have some sort of history here, the previous manner in which I disposed of my jobs cannot be used. I have rent to pay. I am accustomed to a standard of living. I am debt free. So why would I chuck it in.
I had a panic attack yesterday. Now, it could've been because yet again I have decided to take another month off work to head to Melbourne and the Comedy Festival and I even purchased my airfare. But that shouldn't have been it. Thats fun stuff right?
And work is not that bad. I mean, here I am, happy with the fallling rain (profits perhaps?) up in the Northern Beaches, posting a blog entry instead of working. Thats not too terrible is it? And most of the people are lovely. The few that are not, well, they are kinda entertaining in an annoying way and can actually spice the day up with ridiculous behaviour.

So why did I have a panic attack and whats this pain in my neck that is not muscular - all I'm saying is, it might be a clot. And it might be travelling to my brain. And if I die unexpectedly, will I regret not resigning today???????

Can someone pass me a paper bag please!

PM for PM

I heard this on the radio this morning, and I think it was both pretty funny and dead on the money.

There is a festival in Port Macquarie, a town on the northern central coast of New South Wales (near the holiday destination of my childhood - Laurieton, where my Dads Aunty Laurie lived. No lie. I thought the town was named after her. It wasn't. But still. I mean, imagine if it was. I would be great niece to THE Laurie of Laurieton. Anyway, its just a coincidence.)

I digress.

What I found amazing was the radio announcer explaining why it was going to be an awesome festival -

"Its in Port Macquarie. Which sounds like Paul McCartney. And everyone loves the Beatles."

Yes they do. (and if they don't, they are probably lying.)

I knows what I nose.

For the second day in a row, I have driven through a suburb that smelt entirely of body odour. ENTIRELY OF B.O!

Once is an anomaly surely, but twice? Come on St Marys! Have a little bit of pride!!!

Spooooooky.

I am a little disturbed. Maybe its due to the recent bout of fabulously fun and scary impro I was lucky enough to be audience to, but yes, I am definitely disturbed.
Over the weekend, I managed to somehow end up with foil in my eye. Foil. METAL! And even just writing about it is making my stomach churn. It completely freaked me out. I was actually putting in eye drops at the time and then, feeling more than a little discomfort, I faced the mirror to see a silver thing ON MY EYEBALL. Thankfully I was treated to calm assistance and comforting throughtout the ordeal and the foil was removed with nothing more than minimal scratchiness....but I am now haunted by it. I have had dreams the past two nights about my eyes being pierced or things (well, insects in particular) crawling in them - and every time I look in the mirror, I remember the vision of the metal just sitting on my pupil.(This is where I blame the Halloween themed creepily brilliant Mr Fish and his spooky library of Impro Macabre). Its actually starting to make me feel ill.
Which also reminds me, after a wonderful Melbourne weekend, I was lucky enough to be sat on the plane behind the guy who vomits all the way to Sydney.

Like I said...spooooooky.

Playing in the garden of Eden

Its been an interesting morning.

At approximately 7:28am this morning, in an office in the outer outer suburbs of Sydney, a man, who I have never met, asked me if I wanted to have sex with him. I kid you not.
Admittedly, it was not so much an actual invitation as a proving of a point on his behalf.
Let me explain.
There is a gentlmen here who is expecting a child. Well, not him, but his wife. Anyway, there was a discussion in full swing as I sat down at the desk between two men, regarding which gender was easiest to raise.
As if I was not in the room, the men proceeded to explain that females are not only impossible, but also emotionally, physically and pyschologically unreasonable. Hands down, in the opinions of these two gents, males are without a doubt easier to raise, "coz with girls you gotta put up with all the PMS stuff and worry about teenage pregnancy".
Now me being me, I could not remain silent for long. So I may have interjected with the question of how does teenage pregnancy occur and surely there is a responsibilty to educate boys and girls equally etc etc etc.
This was when one of the men walked up to my desk, put his hands on his hips and asked, "Well, do you want to have sex with me now?"
Ummmmmmmm.
"Exactly, guys are always gonna ask, but its up to the chick whether or not he gets to play in the garden of Eden."
Ummmmmmmm.
"I think I have made my point."
Ummmmmmmm.
"Are there any biscuits?"

I am in a much better mood today than I was yesterday.

A.F.D ... why bother.

So I decided it was time for another A.F.D (alcohol free day) ... what with the big weekend...the wetting of the babys head -oh, its a boy!!! Harrison Green- an engagement party, you know, stuff where drinks are drunk.
SO Monday was A.F.D time.

So why the hell did I feel like I had a hangover on Tuesday?

Geography

As I type this, my sister Deb is in labour. Pretty amazing really. The thing is, she lives in Adelaide and I am here in Sydney.
It was the same when she had her first child, Jackson. I will spend most of the day staring at my phone, waiting.
Geography is cruel. By rights, as a sister (in the way that we are actually sisters, not clenched fists in the air kinda "I hear you" sisters, but actually sisters) I should be sitting in the waiting room at the hospital drinking coffee or tea and ready to burst into tears when my bro-in-law Kym, comes out and tells us "Its a ...?" and then we all hug or something. I don't know what would happen though, as I have never sat in the waiting room.
Similarly when my brother Anthony and his wife Alison welcomed their son Rohan into the world, it was in Wollongong. Again, there was no waiting room experience.
As I may possibly be the old maid Aunt my mother keeps warning me I am on my way to becoming, I feel I have been robbed of these experiences. The possible future story-telling, nephews/nieces on my knee, hanging on every word, "Now, when you were born, we all waited for hours and then....."
Instead, all they will get is "Oh, I was online posting a blog about me me me me and me when you were born. Yes, thats right, your birth reminded me about all the things I miss out on....." which is both self indulgent and most probably not exciting at all for the child.
See, proof that geography is making me a bad Aunt.

DAMN YOU GEOGRAPHY!!!!!!

All my dreams....?

When I was a kid, around 8 years old, my friend, Anita, and I would play "secretaries" in which we were two very highly competent secretaries for two very important bosses. We would have an office each (separate ends of the lounge room/bedroom/back yard etc) and we would meet at coffee breaks and lunchtimes to discuss the intricacies of our office life.
We would answer phones, take messages, arrange catering and type up important letters and memos. Sometimes, because our bosses were so busy, we had to organise their wives birthday presents or flowers for forgotten anniversaries. It was high pressured stuff, but very rewarding at the end of the hour when Anita and I would meet in the kitchen for iced vo vo's and cordial.

So, now I am all grown up, work in an office, answer phones, take messages, organise catering as well as very important things like analyse data. I got to meetings, training courses, organise Christmas parties or farewell barbeques. Its almost exactly what I pretended to do as a kid.

So why don't I feel like all my dreams came true?

Moving on up!

Yeah thats right! You heard it. Amanda Buckley is moving on up!

"But how do you know you are moving on up Amanda?" I hear you all asking.

Well, because I was recognised last night, thats why.

I was at the gym, where I had decided that I would not be the prudish scaredy cat, locking myself in the toilet to merely change a t-shirt! No! I would be an adult and just use the change room like all the other women.

So, I'm at that moment when I am pulling the clingy, sweaty work-out shirt over my head when I hear:
"Oh I know you!"
My head is somewhat stuck in the shirt and my arms are above my head, leaving this woman talking to my boobs.
"Yeah, Amanda right? I saw your show last night. It was great. Good work. We'll definitely be back."

And my head is free in just enough time to smile and say "hey, thanks."

So yeah, looks like I am going places.
Like back to the toilets to get changed.....

Amanda Buckley

I am sure I am not the only one in the world who has googled themselves. I do it often as Amanda Buckley is a fairly common name and getting through all those thousands of results can take some time. I think I am up to page 98 or something.

The google results though have changed recently and I was more than a little unsettled by it. An 18 year old American girl, who I had noticed in the past google searches had made a fairly huge impact on the soft balling world was recently murdered.

For years when I had hit "search" I had seen her name appear in sports columns, blogs, school newsletters etc, all noting her great achievements. Today however, the search noted the events which tragically and horrifically have cut her life short.

Instead of skimming past the search results as I would normally do, today I took the time to read some things about Amanda Buckley. She seemed like a really great girl. A talented soft baller who had won a full scholarship to college. Her teammates said she was always lifting their spirits and even making their opponents laugh. She was an only child who meant the world to her parents.

I never would have met her. I would never have known anything about her. She would never have made an impact on my life. But for the very fact that we share a name. I cannot help but feel touched by her life and saddened by passing of it. Such a dark ending for such a bright light.

A month of sunshine and lollipops!

My big trip has officially come and gone. One month of fun and laughter and travels through the glorious cities of London, Edinburgh and Dublin with some of my dearest friends popping up along the way.
The events of the last month are too many and varied to document, but I figured there would be no harm in listing (how much fun are lists) some highlights or at least moments that are both worth remembering and sharing....(and to help me forget about the man that just yelled at me and nearly NEARLY made me cry...its the jetlag I swear!)

- Seeing Susie Youssef walk into a hotel foyer in Earls Court and then the two of us giggling and crying.
- Laughing hysterically at ourselves on the tube and collapsing on the stairs.
- Mairi McNicol greeting me in Edinburgh.
- The first experience of the Royal Mile in Ed Fringe Season.
- Jugs of Pimms and Lemonade on artifical grass in real sunshine.
- Seeing Andrew McClelland smile and dance.
- The ten minutes of stage time Susie and I got...(and the impro show with Keira)
- Laughing very loudly to get Rhae Pearlman (Mona from Cheers!) to look our way so we could sneak a photo of her.
- David O'Doherty and his magic keyboards.
- Seeing Caomhan driving in the wrong lane to pick us up at Dublin.
- Dice Bar! And all that dark red groovy lighting.
- ALL of my lovely Irish friends.
- Mastering the art of tent erection.
- Having a valid reason to say and type the word erection.
- Seeing men piss on EVERYTHING!!! (not worth remembering, but more for the sharing I think.)
- Bjork. Pure bliss.
- Using a port-a-loo first after its just been cleaned....woohoo!
- Bacardi cocktails that are the same price as beer.
- The Dublin Gospel Choir. White people sounding really really black.
- Learning that Protestants make the best sponge cakes (guilt free apparently!)
- Being the only Aussie that gets sunburnt in Ireland.
- Meeting Sam Shepherd in the Stags Head enjoying his pint of Guinness.
- Seeing my friends at work (and having your friend work at the Guinness factory!)
- Susie Youssef being proposed to (more than once)
- Sailing Dublin Bay.
- Afternoon cocktails at Morrisons
- Saying g'day to Rolf Harris in Cork.
- Having a right proper night of craic with local Corkians.
- Winning a free return flight in the daily "Ryan Air" giveaway.
- Sitting next to Noel Gallagher in a cinema.
- The glorious Saturday sun with Susie and co. in Notting Hill
- The frown from French actress Julie Delpy as I attempted to smile a hello.
- The impromptu and wonderful fireworks visiable from my hotel window on my very last night.
- The welcoming arms of friends and family when I arrived home.

Ahhhh. I highly recommend you take a trip yourselves.

Porridge!

Wow. Its the end of an era for another year. Today, I had my last bowl of porridge for 2007. This is because I only allow myself to have porridge in winter, meaning June 1 - August 31. (otherwise I would seriously just eat it all the time.) And since, this evening, I leave for London and will not return till September, this morning was my last winter breakfast.
Trivial yes. For myself however, it marks the passing of time. Kinda like when a pen you have runs out of ink - but only a pen that you have used from its brand new ink state ... these moments give me pause and reason for reflection. Or whatever.

Man I love porridge. Oh well.....till next year....

Into the great unknown?

Ah yes. The great unknown. The undiscovered country. The endless possibilities of the not yet known. Ignorance is bliss. What we don't know won't hurt us.
Then why do I feel so sick?
I have had a little anxiety troubles over the last 24 hours. I cannot put my finger on it, but something is not quite right with me. Could it be the journey I am about to embark upon...off to the other side of the world to check in with some dear friends and have a really wonderful time? Surely not? I mean, thats just going to be a heap of fun right?
Then why do I feel so sick?

You know, it'd be so much easier to just stay at home. Not meet a heap of people who I never know when I'm going to see again but cannot help being attached to and miss incredibly. Not get attached to anyone in general. Not spend the better part of all my savings. Not put my hand up to jump up on stage and do a show I really have not prepared for yet. Not know. Have no control. Be kinda sorta scared. Risk failing.
I mean, I know thats why I feel so sick.

But how freakin boring would that be.

Give me the unknown every time - just bring a bucket too!

Free Hugs

I was the proud recipient of a free hug yesterday - from the official free hug man of Pitt St Mall. (thats not me in the photo btw - I lifted this from some google, that is definitely him though.)
Why this meant so much to me?
His officially hugging jacket is velvet. Worlds collide. Free love/hugs/human goodness mixed with the fabric I fear. Things changed yesterday. Now I am not saying I am going out to buy a velvet body suit, but I am one small step closer....

In response?

This is an excerpt from an email conversation I have had today.
I had been asked "where are you going and why?". My reply was "Edinburgh and Dublin, for the Fringe Festival to check out shows and then on to visit friends."

This was the reply I got:

Yes - have been to both cities. Edinburgh in 1974 and Dublin around the
same time - spent Easter there with a friend who lived in the gate house of
the Guiness mansion. My daughter had a birthday party and all the kids in
the village (NEAR Dublin) came to it. Also visited her inlaws who lived
in a very lavish house in County Wicklow. Even had real Picassos on the
wall. The woman we met there had written a book about herself and her
German husband, who had been involved in the July Plot to blow up Hitler -
and how they escaped. She was the daughter of an earle. The book was
later made into a T.V. series. Her name was (is?) Christobel Bielenberg.

And here I was expecting "have a nice time."

Clock watching.

Today is moving slowly.
VERY slowly. The countdown feels like it has started to go backwards. Its almost depressing. I check my inbox every five minutes to keep my mind from exploding through the mundanity of my workload today. I have even replied to my Mothers email about being a special vibrant woman. Anything to keep the clock moving forward.
Given this, joy is being found in places I would normally not look. Today, I am happy to answer the phone. A wrong number? No problem, but since you called, how are you and whats your day look like? The minutes slowly tick by.
Out of boredom and frustration though I have volunteered the lunch run and the meet and greet of 20 new employees. There's another 45 mins I can consider filled.
Posting this blog has filled 7 minutes.

On a completely different subject, how funny is it when a particularly masculine man says something like "Schweppes" or "Fudge!" instead of using an expletive? Very funny.

Two more minutes gone. Thankfully I type slow.

Countdown

In two sleeps its Friday -then the weekend and Celebrity Theatresports - hoorah!
In fifteen sleeps I will board a plane on the way to London!
In eighteen sleeps I will board another plane on the way to Edinburgh!
In twenty-three sleeps, Susie Youssef and I have our ten minute spot in the Fringe Festival!
In twenty-eight sleeps we board another plane on the way to Dublin!
In thirty-one sleeps we join Caomhan and company for the Electric Picnic!
What a month!

How can I possibly sleep then, with all this to look forward to?????

Kitty Got Claws

Kicking the Habit

I am an addict.

I used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day.
I used to drink 12 cups of coffee.

The cigarettes were replaced with my biting of fingernails and the coffee gave way to copious amounts of tea. (well, if was good enough for the Beatles....)

Now its email. And texting. But a milestone has been reached. Yesterday I went a WHOLE DAY without sending an email or a text message. Yes, sure, I have gotten a wee hit this morning, but cutting down is surely progress, right?

I need to be distracted, to fill my time elsewhere....this doesn't necessarily stop me from thinking about sending emails etc, but its positive action surely.

More time going for walks perhaps? Yes, good walks - heightens the senses, good for the body and soul....only problem with exercise is my hair. Modern hair styles (layers you see) mean your hair, while fabulous and voluminous, is hard to tie up and out of your face, which is necessary for those Buckley miles I intend on undertaking. And really, its cold these days, that does terrible things to my hair... maybe I should stay indoors a little longer, until it warms up a bit....

Surely one email won't hurt?

Reasons to smile....

So, I realised that the last three posts of mine have been not my usual brand of "sunshine and lollipops". In fact, they have all been rather whingey and whiney and though, admittedly, that has been the mood at the time of posting, I felt it would be remiss of me not to now point out all the things that are making me feel, as the Carpenters might say, on top of the world.
1. a recent day trip to Malaysia
2. the recent season of Blank! The Musical (which may I add was a smash!)
3. a visit to Adelaide and my sister and my nephew
4. a commercial I just filmed
5. news that Susie and I will perform at Edinburgh Fringe Festival
6. the Gertie and Lance hook-up
7. The Four Coasters
8. all the fun of Celebrity Theatresports weekend extravaganza
9. a new season of Australian Idol
10. The Cure concert
11. an overseas trip in under four weeks!

So yeah, I smile a lot.

A retraction, of sorts.

So I usually like Mondays. But not today. I would normally tut tut any Monday nay-sayers for their lack of vision. For their stereotypical negativity. Not today. Today I am with you all.
My kingdom to just crawl under the covers and stay there forever.

I had a very poor nights sleep. Nightmares galore. And I have hurt my back. So every jolt of fright that sent me upright was accompanied by a fair dose of pain. And here, at my desk, I am like a dodgy old lady...I could barely brush my hair. So I am like a dodgy old bag lady.

And just as I was sitting down to a bowl of porridge and cup of coffee to at least act as some sort of comforting hug to my morning, a guy kicked my desk - (well, he didn't mean to, he was retelling a sporting moment from his weekend) - knocking my coffee over and chipping my mug!
Sure, mugs come and go, but this mug was special. I bought it when I was in Scotland, in a little seaside village called Nairn. There were two types of mugs. Those that said "Happy" and those that said "Grumpy" - each came with its own little stick figure drawing reflecting their happiness or grumpiness. I chose "Happy". I have received a lot of criticism because of that mug.
"Oh rub it in why don't you!" grumble the smile police most Mondays.
Well now the mug is chipped. Happy now? Not really. Kinda grumpy actually.

So, just for today, here's to the Boomtown Rats.

I don't like Mondays either.

Its just good manners....

If you were to say, almost kill someone by running them off the road onto a footpath and possibly into the arms of a shopfront, you might feel the need to stop, slow down or at the very least, give one of those comforting thank you waves. Wouldn't you? Because that would be the good mannerly thing to do.

Apparently not if you are the maniac driving the silver mercedes this morning. Just so you know, I AM FINE THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

Although, being almost killed on the road at 6:45am has put a little dampner on my day and lets not even talk about the toll having my heart skip several beats as I nearly mounted the pavement has taken on me.

It made think though, just so you all know, if I was killed this morning, I really wished I was more forceful with my landlord. I mean seriously, how many nights does a woman have to be locked out of her entire building before he does something about it???

(Oh, and that I love you all.)

Slowly, but surely, they drew their plans against us!

And slowly but surely, my fear of fears presents itself.
Yes. Its true. There is something I fear more than being draped in velvet -

Aliens.

When I was about 4 - 5 (just coming to terms with a rather disturbing past-life memory) my Dad came into possession of a copy of the BBC Orchestra's War of the Worlds. (with narration by Richard Burton) He used to play it quite regularly (remembering that he would have been a man in his early-mid thirties) and got quite a kick out of the fear it put in me. I was petrified by it. The opening strains would send me to my room....the opening of the pods would send me under my bed....the "dooooolahs" would induce urination. This was frightening stuff and has scarred me quite a lot.

Later this year, War of the Worlds is being brought to life once again in one of those mega-spectacular concert thingys (and they said chances of anything coming from Mars was a million to one!) and so, on an almost daily basis, I am at fears doorstep. The sudden, unexpected refrains of the "dooooolahs" startle me while I am just innocently trying to send a few emails to friends. Whats with that? I am shaken, anxious, ever so slightly disturbed. Damn you commercial radio and your incessant advertising.

And as for you Terry Buckley, you cheeky man, you have a lot to answer for.

For some reason, blogger folk won't let me give this post a title. I had a corker planned too, alas, its not meant to be....

I will mention though that I was awoken in the dead of night by a text message. It was from a number I did not recognise but the message sounded like it was meant for me -

"ha ha kudos to you x " smiley face.

Well, for this I did not mind being woken up for. A mystery well wisher - giving me the kudos I must certainly have deserved. After the doubts of my karmic goodness I have been reassured by loved ones that indeed, its OK that I enjoy my good fortune of late - the fact that God created me with a pug nose and poor balance and haptodysphoria has meant really, I have been climbing (awkwardly) uphill for years. Yes, kudos to me indeed. And from a stranger no less. Oh happy day. Bless and joy to you all etc....then it was back to sleepy good times with a warmth in my heart and a smile on my face....

And then...

My phone beeps once more.
Whats this? More messages of happy tidings? Maybe a compliment for my new haircut? Possibly a young man, intoxicated by my sweet laugh and moderate temperament confessing his secret admiration?

"Sorry. Wrong person."

Oh.

Yeah well kudos is a stupid word anyway.

Karma Police

I spent most of last night face down on the floor making a lot of noise. Yes, I was performing in the Impro Australia "Imprano's" season at Belvoir St Theatre - and my mobster character was Anna Nicole Smith & Wesson (deadly with her double barrel - oh yes, the puns kept coming!)
Needless to say, I would be considered rather disrespectful toward this recently departed womans memory - I was trashy. I was messy. I was incredibly annoying.... the karmic balance though to this? More bruises. And aches. Falling over, repeatedly, in heels will eventually take its toll.

I am all about the karmic balance - and of late, I have been rewarded repeatedly for things I honestly would not know about. A whole bunch of happy fell into my lap over the last few months....and I can feel the darkness creep in....have I earnt all this good fortune??? I would not have thought so, indeed this means I had better start doing some good - and quickly....and I think its going to take more than a plasma donation (which look, while I am here, I would really recommend.....or maybe just blood - seriously, I mean, its once every three months - and it can save like three lives....unless you are pregnant, have a cardiac based medical condition or have lived in the UK for more than 6 months prior to 1996, then you cannot donate...just so you know)...

I have no reason to be suspicious...and yet, I am. Will it all come crashing down on me? Or can I give back enough to the powers that be in time to keep the goodness coming?

And does not throwing a tantrum in traffic count as a good deed?

Festival Crush

I LOVE a festival.
This weekend, I went up to Brisbane for the inaugural Brisbane Improv Festival - and it was GREAT!
There is something about a festival vibe. I have heard the comment "love in" before to describe them and its entirely true. People you haven't seen since the last festival are there, you all have something in common (usually just that you are there, but really, thats all you need!) and its a lot like a school camp. There is the late nights, cheeky laughs, in-jokes (RACIST!) and group bonding. The new friendships, inspired moments, personal highs (and lows) and best of all the glorious flirtations.

And here I am, back at work, bags under my eyes and one too many bruises the dead giveaway I have had a great weekend. The bruises will fade and I will eventually get some sleep....but the memory of "Winkles" the walking dog, two men wrestling at a bus stop, a peeping tom at the window and the magical wonderment of what goes on under a doona will have me giggling for a few days longer .... after that, its a raised eyebrow daydream away to keep me going until the next "love in"....

Edinburgh Fringe ... the nine week countdown commences ...

Me Me Me Me.

Yes. The truth is out there for all to see. I am selfish. Its all about me. And I feel bad about it.
See even in feeling bad about it, I am still focusing on me. The fact that I feel the need to tell you about it dear reader merely reiterates it. So far there have been four "I's" in this post. I try I really do, to think beyond my own successes, failures, disappointments, alas, it seems to always come back to me.
Its got to stop.
I need to focus on the feelings of others. Look past my own reaction and vanities and embrace all around me. Only problem with that is that it would make me feel good which then, would be selfish.
Man. I do not know how all those do-gooders do it. Unless they are really really really selfish.

Cheeky selfish do-gooders. Man. What a nerve.

Par Excellence

I won an award at work. For excellence. Ironically, if you ask me what I do and how I do it, I would not actually be able to tell you.
Still, its very nice to be acknowledged. Very nice indeed.

Career Girl

I have had some jobs.
Quite a few actually.
Video store clerk.
Pizza Hut Shift Supervisor.
Waitress.
NAB Phone Operator.
TAB Phone Operator.
Spruiker.
Child care Assistant.
Leisure Centre Receptionist.
Childrens Party Planner.
Labour Hire Project Officer.
Accounts Clerk.
Data Entry Operator.
Administrative Officer.
Data Analyst.

And here I am. I have spent a lot of my employment avoiding advancement. Responsibility is one thing (I think you will find Mrs Winthrop that Johnnys head did have a bump on it when you dropped him off this morning....) but advancement, no. I do not think so. Uh uh. Nope. Not for me. I am fine where I am.

Except -

A grown up job has crept up on me without me really knowing it. I am planning meetings to "strategise" and asking people to "pull together" and every now and then, I mean it when I say "near enough is just not good enough".

Who is this corporate monster posting before you? When did the needs of the business overtake my need to email my friends? When did I stop taking the stationary home because lets face it, I don't really need it? What happened to that carefree girl who was really a hindrance rather than a help?

Wait a minute...I am posting from my desk in my shared office space while my manager is not looking...there could still be some hope eh?

Monday Monday

I like Mondays. I know most people are all like, "Maaaaan, I hate Mondays", "did I even have a weekend?", "I just couldn't get up today", "can't it be the weekend already?"..... etc etc.
Not me.
See in my mind, Monday is still close enough to the weekend to have "memory flooding back" syndrome. I will be sitting at work, daydreaming away (which is fine for a Monday because all the Monday haters - most people - don't expect much work to get done, simply because its Monday, so I can sit in a daydreaming state with little interruption) and I couldn't be happier.
Muscle aches remind me of make-shift lounge room dance floors, yawns remind me of late night chatter and the constant refrain "how was your weekend?" reminds me of just how good a weekend I have had.
So, on this particular Monday, I am all smiles and far away looks and the memory flooding back syndrome has been kicking in all day. And thats why I like Mondays.

Tuesdays on the other hand? Thats another story....

Stop. Nanna-Time.

I had mentioned in a previous post that I have begun to prematurely Nanna. By that, I mean, I have noticed some behavioural changes that lean toward the inner senior citizen in me. I have every confidence that my inner child still exists, I am just worried that the senior citizen (pushy as they can be) will start calling all the shots.

For instance, I am an early riser - not by nature, purely due to my job, however, I find it increasingly annoying to sleep in and "miss half the day" now. My body clock (after nearly 6 years of training) wakes me up, on weekends, even after a very late night, by 7am every day. Not a problem if you can merely roll over and go back to sleep - not me. I start to think about putting on some washing or going for a walk - mostly I just end up reading, but still, that's a Nanna thing.
I also think nothing of having dinner at 5.30pm. Again, this is mainly for convenience, as I would only do this if I had something else on that night and I would not get home till really late ... But still. Dinner with Deal or No Deal - that's a Nanna thing.
I would rather put on all of my clothes at once than put on a heater, I am scared of teenagers, I do not understand Emo, I have a freezer full of bananas just waiting to be made into bread - ALL NANNA THINGS and last night was the most Nanna of all. I found a Woody Allen movie a little too disturbing to watch just before bed. Make no mistake, I was enjoying it no end, its just as it neared midnight and the film neared its climax, I begun to get so anxious that I could not watch it anymore. I had to pour myself a glass of port, watch some mindless American "dramedy" and put myself to bed. This is a Nanna thing. Where has my spunk gone? My pluck? Apart from the obvious reasons, why do I find CSI so offensive? Its the Nanna in me.

And she's got me scared.

Must be time for another tattoo!

Welcome to my world....

Easy Peasy

At exactly the time when I was ready to pull various strands of my hair out this morning through the many frustrations that come through not quite understanding how I am meant to do my job, I was quickly reminded just how easily distracted and made happy I can be....

These things made me smile today -

- placing a prank phone call
- finding a short film by a friend on YouTube
- having left over spaghetti for lunch
- someone saving me a piece of cake
- faking my laugh until I genuinely laughed to make someone else laugh
- the chicken dance (Arrested Development style)
- knowing that there are social drinks on Sunday
- schadenfraude
- a crazy accent
- thinking about the last month
- completely a difficult (for me) calculation
- working out the right way of doing something (after doing it wrong for weeks!)

And its only just time to leave work. Indeed, happy days!

Why?

Why are all the post boxes on the OTHER side of the road?

Taxi Cab Confessions

This is what happened:

Dusk, King St Newtown, I had five minutes to get to the pub and meet Cale, the Canadian, Coaster, Friend for a beer before he went to class. My spirits were high and thirst ready for quenching as I hit the street. Damn. Uphill. Unfit. Best flag down a cab.

Moments later I am in the front seat, directing the driver to an ATM and the pub in question. He obliges, starting to chat. I am not sure what the segue could have possibly been - or the catalyst for his train of thought going to where it went - but indeed, I was not expecting the following dialogue. Oh no, I was not expecting it at all.

Its fairly obvious he really wanted to tell his story, he drove particularly slowly for the flow of traffic and he certainly was not in a hurry to move off the mark as the lights changed from red to green.

His wife left him five years ago and was currently "shacked up with a 32 year old." The ex was 54. Their daughter was living with his ex-wife and a strictly religious 28 year old so she was "saving herself for marriage" should not have to bear witness to such debauchery. This was tearing him apart, that and the fact that the ex-wife had taken him for everything he had, which he pointed out, was not much. He never used to drink, but since the 32 year old moved in, he has been known to drink a bottle of whiskey in one night and get up and go to work.(At this stage I was taking down the drivers licence number!) Then, and lets remember, at best this was a five to ten minute journey, he really opened up.

"I think I am ready to end it. I have a gun, I will shoot myself and be rid of this forever." I did not want to know, I did not want to care, I did not want to be involved. But I was. And I was paying him for the privilege.

"Anywhere along here thanks." I said, encouragingly. And then I added something along the lines of not killing himself because he needed to be there for his daughter and where would I be if he had not come along? - walking slowly uphill and not at all close to a pint of lager. OK, so maybe it was not the time or place for funny. I was not at all prepared for what had just taken place. Poor excuse I know, but there it is.

Moments later, beer in hand and friend sitting opposite, life had moved on....except that I really hoped that lonely man would be OK.

Now I sit at work, bullied by my co-workers for singing too loudly. "I wish they'd drag you back to re-hab" was one comment regarding a particular song I was singing. Maybe they just need five minutes with the man I met last night, him at the wheel and his life falling apart, to know that there are worse things in life than having to put up with my singing.....

And now -

The sickness comes. Yes, I have finally succumbed to the land of cold and flu. Still, its worth the snot really.

And here is a photo of the Scrabble Unscripted cast with Dave Callan and our best "zombie" faces...not sure what I am thinking...

If I could then I would, but I can't so I won't....

I am referring to posting a blog about the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. Its just impossible to put into words the experience of April 2007...as Jordan Raskopolous pointed out "Words have not failed you Amanda Buckley, no, YOU have failed words."
That is to say, I have tried and failed and what is left is a mere rundown on the events of last month.
Firstly, our show Scrabble Unscripted went better than we could have imagined and I guess, I mean, at the end of the day, thats what we were there for - to put on a kick arse comedy show. What happened though, I found, is that everything else about the festival seemed to overtake the original goal. Pre-sales, flyering, warm-ups and set-ups are your routine, but the networking, the dancing, the drinking, the venue hopping, the hanging around, the flirting, the late night (read: early morning) debriefs to the who's and the what's all become the things you dig even deeper into the well of energy to take part in.
Its safe to say that I have never been one for the sleeping and have on more than a dozen occasions sacrificed my general well-being to stay out that little bit longer, to suck on the marrow (if you will). I now have a sleep debt, that one day, not only my children, but my childrens children shall inherit. At least I have something to leave behind....
Two of the most amazing highlights (she says, almost forgetting, once again, the reason she was there) apart from the success of Scrabble (she says, making amends) was singing "Flashdance" with 80's Enuff at Trades Hall, a truly joyous and unforgettable moment in my life, thanks of course to Suz and Lis for the hair and the moves and Mark Watsons 24 hr Gig. This is where words really fail me (sorry, where I really fail words) to summate as best possible, Mark Watson put on a 24 hr gig, successfully, much to the dismay of his emotional and mental and possibly physical state. At some stage I was laughing uncontrollably which somehow resulted in me going on a 9hr date with a 19 year old guy named Jono to the Yarra Valley, culminating in a ride with him on the ferris wheel in Federation Square. Of course, this was only about a 1/15 of the gigs focus, there was a hundred other things happening during the course of that 24 hours, but it was such a fabulous thing to be a part of that it would be remiss of me not to make quite the point of it.
The remaining parts of the month are many and wondrous and a blur of memories - gin, cigarettes, laughter, hugs, kisses, long gazes, car trips, music, crazy accents, long walks, glorious Autumn in Fitzroy Gardens, laneways, cups of coffee, soy milk, sushi, custard, smiles, questions and answers, welcoming strangers and steadfast friends. And sideburns. And an airport moment I will never forget. Sigh. Sniff. Sob.

Eureka!

So, we are two weeks down and two to go for the Comedy Festival.
So far, in my constant attempts to learn and grow as a person, I have discovered the following -

* The natural high of a sell out show can help you stay awake for days
* There is never a right time to approach Dylan Moran - and if there ever was, all you would be able to manage to say is "blabagh".
* Rove McManus is lovely and drinks vodka.
* Nobody, but nobody dances like Dave Callan - well except perhaps Lisa Ricketts
* A four star rating from The Age also gives a natural high that can keep you awake for hours - and is also another reason to drink a lot.
* Trams are good
* You can still have fun on Good Friday. Yes yes you can.
* There are still good men out there. At least one. Probably even two or three, just keep your eyes open.


Scrabble Unscripted has been going great and we have had nothing but warm fuzzy feelings for this fine city....good times indeed.

My only complaint is that the stupid grin I have been sporting has seen an increase to the lines on my face.

Ahhh, but the joy in a stupid grin....what a way to wrinkle.

Like butterflies in your belly

Anxiety.
I love it. The good kind anyway. Although, I suffer a lot from the bad kind, thankfully only over trivial things like velvet and having the guy next to me watch me eat. And walking up and down stairs - I fall over alot, so you know, every stairwell is a crazy adventure for me. Yesterday, I trip up the stairs in a carpark, but this made me lose my balance and fall back down the stairs....oh to be the guy who watches the CCTV footage and has seen Ms AB stumble with the grace and composure of something with very little grace and composure.

Lately though, (apart from the velvet) its all been very good anxitey. Pre-show nerves, new people syndrome (I get very nervous around groups of people and when I am meeting new people....in a good way), thinking about a possible next kiss, leaving my job for a month to perform at the Melbourne Comedy Festival, leaving it all behind for a month come August 17 to head OS again. Crazy butterflies I tells ya!

Bliss.

Do Gooder

On my drive from work today, I passed a man sat in a van vigorously rubbing his eyes. Of course, I had driven on way too far when I thought to myself, "I hope he was alright". I mean, for all I know, he was an emotional wreck and had pulled over to the side of the road to let out all his anguish and woe and the kindness of a passerby may just be the only thing that could bring sunshine into his day....or he might have just been tired.
All this went through my head and I realised that well, I had missed my chance to find out.
Of course, I could have turned back at any time, though I did do this once, and my do-gooding ways got me into a spot of bother.
A few years ago (about 10) I was driving at dusk and saw a heap of smoke coming from a house. I called Emergency right away feeling very proud of myself for raising the alarm.
As I continued on my way (I was on my way to a class) I noticed several other houses with smoke billowing out of their roofs...hmmmm, coincidence? I think not. It was winter after all and something I had failed to notice when I raised said alarm, was the chimney from which all the smoke was coming out of.
I immediately rang Emergency again and informed them of my mistake, alas, it was too late and the protocol is for all calls to be investigated. I sped away as fast as was legal as I saw the three fire engines approach.....what a dickhead was I. All I could think of was the chance that there may have been a legitimate fire somewhere else, and thanks to my so-called do-gooding, people had perished.
None had.
I checked the papers ....
But still.

So I hope Mr Man from the van that you were merely stop, reviving, surviving... and if you weren't, I am sorry for not stopping.

I will try and make it up somehow.

Quote of the Day

"London is very cosmopolitan. And Metropolitan. Thats how I found it to be."

All hail the Chiefs

I went to the Kaiser Chiefs gig last night at the Forum @ Fox Studios. Its a great venue, intimate, sweaty, loud.
Although, they are also the things I can no longer tolerate about live music. Well, lets say I cannot tolerate them like I used to.

Last year, Daniel Kitson made some very strong comments regarding gigs and the things he cannot tolerate about them. I could not have agreed more vehemently with him last night.
The Chiefs play loud, sweaty music. Inciting the masses and making you punch your hands in the air. For those that know me, I am not a joiner-inner of things like that, but I do enjoy other peoples carefree jumping up and downs. That is of course, unless the person whose sweaty back my cheek is uncomfortably pressing against is a certain breed of backpacker, who keeps mistaking me for his girlfriend (who he never bothered to completely locate and keep safe from the moshings of the mosh) and would repeatedly scream into my ear "NA NA NA NA NA NAAAAAAA I love this one!!!!"

It was an almost violent joy on display. His poor girlfriend had no idea what was going on and all I could think of was Daniel Kitson. When you really like something, you want the other people that really like it to be like you.....and when it turns out that you have something in common with someone you would choose to stay far far away from normally, well, it sours the subject somewhat. (He says it SO much better and funnier, and uses WAY more rude words.)

Thankfully, I also shared the experience with my friend Heather. I would recommend Heather as one of my favourite gig companions.

So now, almost 24 hours later and the dull ring in my ear still present, I ask myself, what will I expect at the Electric Picnic later this year....I cannot wait to find out!

Dissolute and Mopey!

I received an email today from Australias No 1 Scrabble Champion, citing concerns over my blogs content, describing it as being dissolute and mopey.
To his credit he wished the universe be good to me so that I may have positive things to enthuse about....so, Edward, at the risk of seeming without morals or even wanton, I have decided to list the things that have made me happy and or enthusiastic this week.

*Being kissed on the nose by my nephews.

*Autumn and the approach of porridge season.

*The Beatles and the endless debates/discussions I can have with people about them. I love that most people will have an opinion. I LOVE when people have a strong opinion.

*Sending and receiving flirtatious text messages whilst sitting opposite my parents.

*Walking into my office and having people say "Here she is!"

*Touching Dieter Brummers six pack! (he works out)

*All my friends who helped me get over my sore neck....and helping to crack my back!

*Being a part of 5 great impro shows.

*Having a night off and spending it on the phone.

*Pfeffernuse. So fun to say and yummy to eat.

*My job and the fact that I don't know what I am doing and it gets a little harder everyday.....Learning is fun.

*The phrase "24 points of love". (Scrabble reference - thank you Ed).

*Serenading a woman at work who is getting married with "Enter Sandman".

*Susie Youssef and her endless ideas for shows and cabaret material.

*Running in a sun shower - bliss!

*When I mentioned to my manager that I had (well my blog had) been described as mopey, he made that raspberry noise and said "As if!"

It ain't much, but its a start surely.

Take that Edward.

Aye, there's the rub

This is what we have established:

I am tired.

I need more sleep.

Sleep will make me feel better.

Working in front of a computer all day is hurting my neck. (something to do with the amount of time I may or may not spend with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder perhaps?)

Performing makes me a little anxious and possibly tense.

Velvet scares me and makes me uncomfortable.

Certain venues (ie. our current venue) have walls made entirely of velvet and most theatre curtains are velvet.

I get tense around velvet.

When I am tense my neck hurts more.

I sleep funny when I am tense.

When I sleep funny I wake up with a sore neck.

I cannot sleep when I have a sore neck.

When I cannot sleep I get tired.

I am tired.

Oh, a vicious cycle indeed.

So why am I still smiling? Lets just say that Rocky Raccoon's apparent lack of narrative and resolution is enough to lift my mood.

The Sleep Debt and The Goofy Smile

I am about as sleepy as I have ever been. My personal mantra of "sleep is for the weak" has become a tad too much of a mission statement and people are no longer suprised when I tell them my age. ("Really? Only 31? Wow.)

Yet, for all the sleeplessness and yawning, its never felt so lovely to be tired. Every yawn is a reminder that I have been off doing something wonderful. First it was a play run with a cast of friends and a ridiculous Italian accent, then it was farewell parties and gala nights, then my friend Caomhan.

When Caomhan is in town, life takes on a whole new attitude. We do not even have to be hanging out with each other for me to feel happy, just knowing he is in the same city brings a smile to my face. There is the obligatory amount of alcohol though, late night chats and all day celebrating (where wine and oysters are breakfast and gin is all the other meals!) ending with a bop in the local discotheque with me barefoot sending text messages under a piano. Sydney lights up when he is around!

The last month is indeed a blur. Follow Caomhans visit with Comedy Festivals, impro show after impro show, parties celebrating the success of an impro show and chatting with a handsome man till sunrise, not to mention a day job that I keep waking up for and am actually taking pride in, well, my sleep debt just keeps getting bigger.

And my goofy grin just keeps getting bigger too.

Always a bridesmaid

In another world or time, I would be born a male, a shortish pug-ish man with a Frenchy sounding name. I would create an award winning cult comedy series set in an office and then go on to create and star in a series about being an extra. An extra that has a ridiculous agent.

Alas, I was born a female. A shortish pug-ish female. Who works in a office and has a secret life as a comedy performer/actor and a ridiculous agent. Pity Ricky is just that much more talented than me. And has a penis. I am sure thats the only difference.

The call went like this:

"OK, I have an audition for you. I am not sure what its for. I forgot to write down the name of the company. Anyway, its tomorrow. The role of a bridesmaid. Oh, you're still overweight aren't you? Because its for a fat bridesmaid."

My confidence is sky-high. Self esteem through the roof.

I go for the audition. I am in a room with four other females of various size, shapes and colours. Its clear they are going for the "real people" look.
They ask us to improvise a scene in a womens rest room where we are all gossiping about the wedding we are in attedance of. This should be a piece of cake. Except its an audition and the rules of performance have gone out the window. We have two minutes to try to stay afloat as a crazy woman steamrolls the scene with a tyrant about an illicit affair with the groom and how she is going to ruin the honeymoon. Its all I can do not to abandon the scene, but then I definitely will not be in the running for role of toilet extra.

All this to sell a phone.

"Yep, still a fatty".

A pause, a reflection, a thought - or two

I'll start with negative -

1) Men who make me feel bad. Why do I let them? And WHY am I attracted to them? And did he just call me a slag?
2) Text messaging rules I cannot get the hang of ie. the ol triple text sans reply. Thats just asking for trouble.
3) Too many dinners consisting of toast.
4) Spilling a last glass of red wine after the bottle shop closes can result in tears.
5) Sleeping wrong so your neck hurts - for 3 days.
6) Forgetting to set the VCR and missing the ever important first episodes. Damn.
7) Having to sit in an office where you are forced to listen to Kyle and Jackie O talk to Mercedes Corby. That is an hour of my life I will never be able to get back.
8) Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado will induce nausea.


I'll finish with positive -

1) Booking flights to Melbourne for the comedy festival.
2) Booking flights to London (countdown to August begins)
3) International guests arriving in a week
4) Security Guards in pubs that announce "no more comedy" when I throw a tantrum (in the name of comedy). Either he was very very good at his job or incredibly funny himself - his facial hair suggests the former.
5) Being part of a cast again.
6) Amazon.co.uk - thank you for entertaining me.
7) Having a work colleague create an IMDB profile for me.
8) Hearing Talk Talk on the radio bringing up memories of the international guest who is coming in a week....so good.

Whatever happened to Greg?

Is it just me....or does Lou Reed have a remarkable resemblance to Barry Williams A.K.A Greg Brady?
And is it just me or have you never seen them in the same room before?
And is it just me or do you remember that Greg had a rock'n'roll dream and went by the stage name of Johnny Bravo once or twice?
And is it just me or when you put the names Lou Reed and Johnny Bravo into google, you actually get some results...I mean....is it just me or is that way too much of a coincidence?

I know you are but what am I?

I have been out of sorts this week. Not ill. Not upset. Not the same. Out of sorts. I love expressions like that. Ones that mean exactly what you want to express. I am out of sorts.

My road rage is up higher than usual, I have had 2.5 headaches and I feel a little whingey. I actually found myself shedding a tear over the "Home and Away" trailer - looking back at Sally's life and the big question of "will she survive?" AND I DON"T EVEN WATCH IT!!!!! Random phone calls, left messages, texts not replied to - these have left me in a muddle, too many choices and lack of IT expertise have meant I still have not purchased a computer and my inability to produce an authentically stereotypical Italian accent have made way for one or two anxiety episodes. Oh it may sound trivial to you dear reader, but this is my life dammit!

On the flip to that however, our return (by "our" I am referring to the cast of Scrabble Unscripted) to the Melbourne International Comedy Festival has been confirmed and accommodation even booked! Brilliant. Now I just need to break the news to my employers.

I am reaching that fork in the road, where I know the job may have to go. (Not before I have purchased a damn laptop though!) I think I am being looked over for things because I have to work....and being out of the loop is both frustrating and destructive....because when you are out of the loop, you start thinking about all the things you are missing, but really, its only your imagination, because of course, since you are out of the loop, you have no real idea of whats happening in the loop - and more than likely, what you have imagined is going to be so much more dramatic than the truth....but you will never know, because you are out of the loop....

And out of sorts.

Praise be!

SAGITTARIUS
(Nov 23 - Dec 21)
'Put on a happy face.' 'Smile though your heart is breaking.' 'Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag and smile, smile, smile.' The songwriters are unanimous. The thing to do when you find yourself in times of trouble is to let it be. To some extent this puts them in direct conflict with the psychotherapists who are strongly of the opinion that emotions must be honestly expressed at all times. Whose advice should you take? It doesn't much matter. Soon your problem will be fixed!

And I thought I was going to have to change the landing lightbulb myself!

End of an Era

And so that is that.

Since May 2006, I have made it my mission to watch The West Wing - all 7 seasons. Its been tough going, there have been kidnappings, assassination attempts, romances, divorces terrorist attacks, near misses, late night bill debates,births, deaths, marriages, campaigns, hotel rooms, State of the Unions and a whole lot of political stuff I tried to understand but never will.

And now, I have come to the end of season 7. That's 7 years in 7 months. I have laughed, cried, bitten my nails, gnashed my teeth throughout the Bartlett administration...and now there is only one thing to do....

Get a life.