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.....