But still ....

ALL THE BEST OF EVERYTHING FOR YOUR FESTIVITY OF CHOICE!!

I hope you have nothing but giggly, excitable, challenging and rewarding times ahead. 2008 has been a pretty crazy year for me. Much more good stuff than bad and the bad stuff, well, you cannot have good without the bad right? So here's hoping that for all of us there is a bumper 2009 ahead!

So raise a glass and have a laugh and I hope there is plenty of paracetamol close by when you need it come Jauary 1.

x Buckers

Recipe for disaster

Hormones

+

Loneliness

+

Sleeplessness

+

Christmas

=

No wonder I feel like crying.

Deal or No Deal

I had drinks with a great friend of mine and her girlfriend. My mate is dearly head over heels, up to her eyeballs, knock her down with a feather in love with her girlfriend, and its really lovely for her.
The best part being is that her girlfriend seems to be equally enamoured with her. So it came as a bit of a surprise - or really just something I didn't need to hear - when Kez proclaimed, "I have already told Bec, if she wants kids, its a deal breaker".
And there were those words - deal breaker.

The words themselves leave no room for compromise. Cut and dry, pure and simple, clinical and unemotional. Ok, I am not silly, something like having kids is not something you just compromise - but its the idea of the "deal breaker" that I am referring to.

When I was younger I had a few deal breakers of my own. Back then, as far as I could see, I would never be able to fall in love with a man who:

• drove a ute / hotted up car
• listened to heavy metal
• didn't like the Beatles
• really liked football (league)
• heckled
• had number plates that spelt out a word or phrase
• had an offensive nickname

Of course, overtime, I realised that my deal breaker list was full of only superficial things that alas, I might not know until I was already well interested in the boy ... or perhaps even in love with the boy. For example, not too long ago I was faced with this dilemma - and it really wasn't a dilemma at all. I was in the audience for some stand up comedy with a man I particularly fancy, and discovered that he was a heckler. Not your run of the mill "tell us a joke" heckler, but a heckler nevertheless. It turns out though, that he was a supportive heckler, and to my surprise, I loved it. I guess I have to strike that one off the list. I would go so far as to say, that if I found out he had a secret love of The Footy Show, that I wouldn't mind ... afterall I secretly cried like a baby throughout the film "Enchanted".

I wonder though, why no one ever really says "If you are a racist, misogynist pig, then that's a deal breaker".

And just like clockwork...

In six days I will be 33, and you know what that means - yep, my birthday.

My Mum rang me last night to ask me what she should get me. Twenty years ago I would have been able to list within seconds about fifty items that I not only didn't need but probably, after a few minutes, wouldn't really want. Last night I couldn't come up with anything. Not a thing. Well, certainly I do not want anything in a tangible sense. And it's not that I even want "the answers" or "meaning". I think I have "meaning" and that makes me not want to "know the answers" but it's that same old bloody story isn't it? Another birthday, another mini panic attack.

I have liked my 30's - I guess that is to say, I've liked me in my 30's. (except for the whole anger thing I mentioned in my last post...but I'm working on it so lets not get all "pointy out the facts" on me.) Its just that I cannot help but look back on the year, as one does round birthday time, and think "what have I done?"

I am starting to wonder whether my recent-ish plan to start taking care of myself, exercise more, drink less, positive thinking thing hasn't been a waste of time. After all, I am still doing the "looking back" and though I have moments of clarity (that have replaced my once drunken epiphanies) and seem to have more energy, I still have to buy those special garments that smooth and tuck and flatten the wobbly bits and seriously, what is with adult acne?

So maybe I just have to take a big fat (garment assisted) breath and resign myself to the ebbs and flows. Actually that is one thing I do know for certain, that this has been a year of high highs and lower than usual lows. But those highs - late night dinners in Chinatown, festival bars, the moments before you exit a plane to see those special someones, faces of friends laughing till they're crying and all those terrifying moments as the house lights fades and the curtains go up - oh for Christs sake Amanda, stop whining and get back to work!!!

The Lowest Common Denominator

"You'll never believe what happened to me..."
"Guess what happened to me today?"
"So, I was just driving along when...."
"So tell me if I'm crazy ...."
"Why do these things always happen to me?"

On any particular day, at any particular time of that any particular day, you could probably put money on me starting a story using any one of the above lines of dialogue. These stories normally finish with :

• my car door being punched in
• a book being thrown in my face
• me "taking my business elsewhere"
• me narrowly avoiding some sort of physical harm
• rude gestures and swear words
• me kicking a car tyre
• me getting a man fired
• me calling the police to make sure that the man taking photos of my license plate cannot do anything with them.

I have spent many hours recounting tales of how hard done by I am. People in my office gather round to find out what mess I have myself in this time. Comments like "Only you" or "Typical Buckers" have been uttered more than several times. And it was only two days ago, after contemplating the road rage altercation I found myself in yet again, that I joined the dots. Did the math. Pieced the puzzle.

The one thing common in all my tales is me. Me. The lady who loses it more often than not is me. Me. I am to blame. I am the cause of all my grief. I am an angry woman. ME!

I think I have worked out what my problem though is. I actually hate confrontation. When I am dealing with my friends I am the first to concede. I apologise, accept responsibility, take the blame, feel the guilt. So much so that sometimes I do this even when someone else is entirely at fault. I would much rather do that though, then have an ongoing battle over something more than likely trivial. So when I am dealing with anyone who is not friend or family, who I have never met before, who I may never see again (except for possibly a court of law) I am mental. I am a force to be reckoned with. I am NOT to be messed with.

And it has to stop. So from today, I am just going to try being less angry with the general public. This may mean I get a little less agreeable with my mates, but I am hoping this won't be the case.

But just as a precaution, don't upset me, OK?

Rut.

Yep, I am headed into one. Maaaaaaan. How annoying.

Lifes Mysteries

I am daring to ask the big questions today :



If I didn't drink last night, why do I feel hungover?

Why have I got hayfever for the first time at 32?

What should I have for dinner?

Why do I speak before I think?

Why do I press send before I proof read?

Seriously, what should I have for dinner?

Why bother?

Spaghetti bolognaise it is.....

The early bird....

It was indeed an elaborate plan. But it would make us millions.
Easy enough for me though, all I had to do was wait in the underground tube station, pick up the bag when it was dropped and then put the bag on the train. That was it. Simple.
Something was wrong though. The bag had not been dropped off to me yet and the train was due within the minute. I was doing all I could to remain calm but my wig was really hot and my new heels were really uncomfortable.
The train came and went, no bag. I could feel the sweat start to run down my neck - this wig was really really hot. And then I saw them. Police.
Ok Amanda, just stay calm and blend in. They don't know its you. Or did they? It was as if I had some sort of beacon that lead them to me. Bloody heels. I couldn't run. Maybe I shouldn't have hired the Marilyn Monroe costume. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Not exactly a nightmare, but I woke with a shock. It was 4:48am. After the usual calming oneself down post weird dream I started drifting back to sleep. That is until the sickening crash against my window.
Not at all groggy after that - I sat up wide awake staring at my window. Then it happened again. A stupid freaky bird was battering itself against my bedroom window. Like 6 times. It was 5:02am!!!! What is a bird doing up and at 'em at that time? The sun was not up yet!
Then of course, the bird probably concussed, fluttered about on the ledge, ensuring my rise and shininess and then, just as I had raised the courage to try and assist it, off it flew.

I have had better Mondays. Still though, I can confirm, I look pretty hot in a Marilyn wig.

Back by popular demand!

Ok, so I am exaggerating when I say popular demand. One lovely person asked me to "hurry up and bloody update your blog!" and so, I am doing just that!

Its been a while and a lot has happened but I can probably only remember one or two things.

Firstly, I had a whirlwind trip across the world and back again. It started well - as in, everything was great until I tried to actually leave the country. My flight, due to a typhoon, was delayed by 9 hours, which meant, I had no chance of getting my connection from London to Amsterdam. I was impressively calm (crying for only about 15 minutes to my Mum) and organised a hotel and a new flight once I hit London. All this for only the extra cost of the hotel which was a crazy cheap $90. For London - crazy cheap.
By the time I finally arrived I had the face of a severe bee sting victim and was pretty much dazed and confused until I was met (after 38hrs travelling in total) by my wonderful friends in Amsterdam.
I had 4 days there and can I just say, if you have never been to Amsterdam, please find a reason to go there. Its a truly lovely city with more than just drugs and a red light district (though they are a pretty interesting draw card!) and just knowing that the lovely Damien lives there is enough to make this place a very special one. Damien, as ever, was the most gracious of hosts, even entertaining my need to hunt down a little comic book shop nestled in one of the residential areas. This was my celebrity sighting for the trip. I normally have one every overseas adventure. Last year it was Sam Shepherd, Liam Gallagher, Rhea Pearlman and Julie Delpy. This year, disguised with weightloss and a funky pair of glasses it was Seth Rogen. Or Rogan. Or Brogan. Anyway, you know that guy from Knocked Up? Him. Alas, due to my not really knowing his name, I chose not to say hello and instead walked out of the store saying "You know, Knocked Up? That guy. The chubby one, but he's not chubby now. Him. You know him. Come On!!!!"

After a wonderful few days I left Amsterdam to hit the ground running in dear old Dublin. And then it was 8 days of camping, rock festivalling, pinting, laughing, crying, eating, drinking and reminiscing. All the familiar faces, streets, sights.... one day of sunshine - which I managed a touch of sunburn from! - and not nearly long enough. The Electric Picnic was as ever, brilliant. Sinead O'Connor. Franz Ferdinand. The Presets. Grace Jones. Gomez. Duffy. And like a heap more that I cannot remember. There were a few hiccups though - no. 1 being toilets and the lack of them. And the lack of them being emptied. Yep. 3 days of overflowing portaloos.... sorry, but its true. This indeed dampened the spirits of (mainly female) picnickers, but somehow we carried on regardless and managed to keep smiling and dancing even when stuck in a muddy paddock for 1hr trying to leave. Ahh Ireland.
Leaving much too soon and yet feeling like I had been travelling for months, I was then back to London for some West End action, a drunken pub crawl with two British comedians, a boozy lunch at Harvey Nichols and a lot of melancholic sighing as I wished I could stay another few days.
Before I could say "where do I collect my duty free" I was back in my apartment and stuck with some jetlag and the face slap that is my real life.

To avoid post-travel blues there is only one sure fire way - keep travelling. Since I have gotten back I have had 2 trips to Melbourne and 2 trips to Adelaide. I have had nephews being Christened and nephews turning 1 and fly by gigs and joyous reunions with dearly missed loved ones.
And I had Beaconsfield the Musical. I spent one brilliant week in Melbourne for the Fringe Festival performing in Beaconsfield the Musical. It was a somewhat controversial show and managed to make headlines across Australia including a headlining possie on A Current Affair. So in a week where we were under media scrutiny and having only had 5 rehearsals, we opened and did a 5 night run to sell out audiences (ok, so the theatre only held about 30 - still, it sold out!) and rave reviews. I was so proud to be a part of it and it looks like we are going to hit the road and so some shows in Sydney, Adelaide and Melbourne in 2009! Very exciting.

Oh and I purchased a new washing machine. A brand new one. How very adult of me!

So that has been the last 2 months of my life. Very exciting. I am now possibly about to stare down the barrell of dispair as my tax bill is about to arrive and I have the rest of the year to think about how much I want to resign from my job and escape any ruts that see fit to place themselves in front of me. We'll see.

I have another trip to Melbourne in just over a week. That may stave it off a little longer. Gosh but how I love that city .... you know, except for when its rainy and cold.

A rose by any other name...

Yesterday I caught a bus. I got on and scoped out a seat. There were quite a few available, though three passengers were not moving their bags in a hurry so I could sit down. And then I saw the friendly looking blue collar worker who had moved his bag and therefor was allowing me a seat.

He smiled when I sat down in that strangers on a bus kind of way.

Now, I work with blue collar workers daily. I am not a newcomer to the ways and smells of a hard days work. I was expecting, late in the afternoon, that this man, this kind man who had offered me a seat, might just be a little on the nose. I was surprised however, when the smell I was expecting to be sweat based, was urine based.

Now, I could only see in my peripheral vision, but he was flushed. In the face. His face was flushed. I took this as his shame. You know, that he knew and now I was sitting next to him and obviously knew. I felt bad. It probably wasn't his fault and now he was all embarrassed and yet, he was the only one who lifted his bag to let me sit, even though he had the best reason to not.

After one or two stops and people getting off, seats became available elsewhere. The wee smell was strong, but I felt it would only make him feel worse if I moved. I powered on. I breathed through my mouth, realising I was now eating the wee smell, I switched back to breathing through my nose which very quickly reminded me why I started breathing through my mouth in the first place. A cruel circle to be sure.

Maybe ten minutes had passed when the man spoke "excuse me, I am getting off here". I tried to make my smile look like a polite one instead of the "thank goodness pissy pants is leaving" relieved smile that it really was. And that was that. Off he got.

But the smell didn't.

It wasn't him. I now think it was the woman sitting in front of us that had gotten on at the same time as me.

And if it that were the case, there is every chance that the man sitting next to me thought I was the one emitting the odour. That I was the pissy pants. That the red, flushed face of his was only because he was trying to hold back the tears. And that he thought HE was the one soldiering on. He probably didn't even have to get off at that stop, he probably just saw it as the only chance to escape past me.

I don't know what I feel worse about, the fact that I wrongly accused a man of peeing his pants, or that he thought it was me.

It wasn't me.

Honestly.

I blame the Doctor

Ever since an encounter with the BBC Orchestras recording of the War of the Worlds, I have been scared of Aliens. Seriously. They are my big fear. Velvet is my ridiculous fear. Aliens are my unreasonable.

My Dad used to play the War of the Worlds on cassette tape and I would scream and cry until he stopped. He feels guilty about it enough now, some 28 yrs later, but he used to laugh as I would freak out. I remember hiding in my wardrobe once waiting for it to end. The "Dooooo Laaa's" and Alien base guitar still make unnerve me. A few years ago, my then housemates tried to help me get over it. We bought the CD. We opened some wine. We made sure it was daytime. We laughed at the 70's disco and early electronica stylings.... but as soon as that base guitar kicked in, I turned that freaking thing off.

So when I got home late last night and started watching the latest episode of Dr Who, I should have remembered this. Instead I watched at midnight as Aliens took over Earth and although not that scary (it is Dr Who after all) I went to bed with Aliens on my mind.

What followed was 5 hours of the most horrifying nightmares. Damn freaky scary Aliens!!!!!

Give me velvet any day!

Sweet Talk?

So, at 6:58am, a man I work with said -

"God, imagine being married to you... what a nightmare...."

Needless to say, I am in a super mood.

4 Sleeps

4 more sleeps til I board a plane.

well, 4 more attempts at sleep.

3 more early mornings.

well, 3 kinda early mornings after I snooze for an extra half hour.

3 more days of work.

well, 3 more days of turning up.

2 more gym visits.

resulting in 2 more days I cannot walk properly.

1 more singing lesson.

well, half a lesson and half a councilling session.

1 more machine load of washing to clean the clothes I intend on packing.

Countless moments of anxiety, heartache, fear, depression, excitement and hope.

This rollercoaster is taking its toll.

Its a Small, Small World

Over the past few years a pattern has been forming.
If you are important to me, chances are you live in another state or country. Of course this does not include my parents, who, lucky for me, live a nice 30min drive away. And of course this does not include all my loved friends in Sydney who I would be absolutely lost without. Or my brother, who, pending notice, can share a beer and a laugh only an hour away.
OK, let me rephrase this whole idea - if you are my sister, my old flatmates, my Irish friends, my Scottish friends, my English friends, my friends living in the States or the man I get drunk and call late at night whinging about how much I miss you (you know who you are - I hope!), then you are living in another state or country.
I am not necessarily the best at writing letters or phone calls, but where once there would have been a feeling that I had lost these incredibly important people in my life to distance and borders there is now a constant feeling of hope and excitement. I have every confidence with every farewell that I will see these people again. And its nice. A continuing countdown towards the next meeting.
This has all been highlighted again with recent trips to Adelaide and Melbourne, visits from folk from Edinburgh and Dublin and my having only 11 sleeps til I board a plane and head to the Northern Hemisphere.
Life is not too bad. Not to bad at all.
Now if I can just get better at regular phone calls .... or at least a better Internet connection for Skype.

Reasons to wear glasses

1. To see.

eg. Imagine you are at an International Airport Arrivals Hall, and you might see someone you think is your friend. The friend you are there to meet. You smile. You wave. You wave again. You yell out. You are not wearing your glasses. This person is NOT your friend. You have drawn attention to yourself. You are now turning red as the person you thought was your friend is walking towards you. She smiles as she walks past as if to say "You thought I was your friend didn't you, but I am not. Ha! Ha Ha Ha!"

2. Refer to 1.

A Work in Progess

My Salad Days - where did they go?

There was a time, many, many years ago (30th October 2000 to be precise) when I could happily fall down two flights of stairs in an Edinburgh bar and break my ribs on the second weekend of a two month holiday and not blink an eye.
In fact, history would show that the very next night I would slip on the cobbled Royal Mile pretending to be an Olympic Gymnast (this was 2000 after all) and land uncomfortably on my back. Did it stop me from six more weeks of crazy fun? No freakin way dude.

Funny now, eight years later, I should be doubled over and hobbling after, wait for it, not falling down flights of stairs, but, and this is pathetic I know, dancing. Yes, I have jarred my back or at the very least pinched a nerve, dancing. Sure it was rock opera style and I was doing a scissor kick (well, my version of a scissor kick) across the Enmore Theatre stage at the time, but really? Dancing? Come on!!!

I have previously held the title of "Miss Skullarama 1996 - 98" and now, three glasses of Bubbles and I wake up with a headache. I never used to get sick. Like ever. Then, bang, this year I have chest pains, back pains, suspicious lumps and pink eye. What the? And these things are less and less glamorous every dose. The lump was diagnosed as a fat deposit (relieving that its not serious but hardly one for the self esteem files) and the pink eye, well, its only slightly less embarrassing than saying conjunctivitis. Thank goodness I got to see the sexy Doctor to be diagnosed with that one.

Against my better judgement (and youthful appearance) I am getting old. This is completely unfair as my hair has never looked better and I have only just started to enjoy not having to run everything past my parents. (Hey Dad, you know your tax return? Well could you do mine while you're at it?)

Still, there are advantages. 40th birthday parties are fun to plan. Especially when they involve your Irish best friend, an international destination and three years to save for it.

And I do still hold on to some of my youth - there are two and a half weeks until I hit the Northern Hemisphere and rock out at the Electric Picnic. Brilliant. Gosh how I love a countdown.

Awkward?

So this guy you like makes some CD's for you and coz you like him so much you wanna listen to them all the time. So you take them to work and you put them on your computer.
And you play them out loud all day with a big fat smile on your face.

You go and make a cup of tea.

You come back to find three men standing around your desk.

Listening.

To a song that has the lyrics, "I want those Big Titties. Those Big Titties. Those Twin Cities."

Awkward?

(by the way, for those interested, the song comes from "Fame Becomes Me - Martin Short" ... and its brilliantly funny... but maybe just listen at home ....)

Universe - you cheeky monkey!

I am back in the good books (with myself) again after a few weeks of being somewhat melancholy and self indulgent.
I have survived the wastelands of distance and time and have arrived at the money end of the middle of the year.
Tomorrow I fly to Melbourne for a long overdue catch up and to see Wicked. I am very very excited about this. I saw the London version and Idina Menzel was playing Elphaba and I think I wee'd a little bit with overwhelming joy and sorrow. It was amazing and I am really curious to see how the Aussies stack up.
Also, its the 4 week countdown to my trip to Europe. Well, Amsterdam, Dublin and London anyway - there are a few friendly faces I have been missing terribly there, so with that getting closer I am steadily getting my merry on.
AND to round things off nicely, I landed a commercial this week, so that will take some financial strain off the Europe trip.
All of that and the Melbourne Fringe approaching, I'll most likely wake up and Christmas will be here - I see more smiles than frowns in the future for this little punter.

Whats left to say but Hip Hip Hoooray?

Oh and one more thing

Did you ever wonder, if Big used to read all of Carries columns and be a little disturbed that she wrote about him the way she did?

I often wonder that whilst writing this .... making sure I leave names out, only kinda refer to actual people or events if I think the person/people involved would rather remain anonymous, I mean, for God sakes Carrie, have some respect!

I am Woman, hear me whine.

I am worried I am becoming a jealous person, so I looked up the meaning of the word jealousy. Just to make sure.

1. jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.
2. mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims.
3. vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
4. a jealous feeling, disposition, state, or mood.

The thing is, I am a woman, with a vivid imagination and a tendency to lean toward the melodramatic. I would like to think these are interesting qualities of mine and that it all adds to my allure. I would like to think that. Not everyone else does.

If left to my own devices, I will indeed imagine the worst case scenario, in which either everyone dies and I never got a chance to tell them I love them, I hate them, I was the one who stole the cookie from the cookie jar OR I die, never giving others the chance to tell me they love me, they hate me, they prank valentines day'ed me three years in a row.

So my advice to most is either be prepared for my melodramatics, or don't leave me to my own devices.

After all, I am a woman. Apparently. And this is my birth right.

(I apologise to all the women out there who fought for my right to carry on.)

Poser!

Happy New Half Year

Lets face it, I will use almost any excuse for a little self assessment.

In the past, I have pretty much thought that I was an easy going chilled out type of lady. Willing to roll with the punches. Phased not by change. You could count me in for an adventure. Yes. Yes. That was me. I was the "yes girl". At least I aimed to be.

Now I lay awake at night wondering when it happened that the "yes girl" became the "maybe girl" and when the "maybe girl" became the "chest pain, fat deposit, neck ache, anxiety ridden, hormone driven cry baby girl" currently invading my space?

I don't know how or what, but its time for some changes. Options - quit job? Move? Travel? A new hobby? I need a challenge and I need one quick sticks!!!!

Maybe I just need a "do"?

Yeah, thats probably it.

Soup de jour

Over the weekend I made soup.
Hearty Italian Lentil soup.
I ate it for dinner.
I ate it for lunch.
Then I ate it for dinner again and today, I was having it for lunch.
Well, I thought I was.

My delicious hearty lunch, through butter fingers and fart arsing around ended up not in my belly but mainly on the kitchen floor.
As I cleaned up my mess, knelt down, paper towels in hand, a co-worker said "Did you spew up?"
No, that was my lunch before it went down. (Though, it was a fair comparison....the soup not as appetising as I once imagined....)

Resorting to some whinging and tantrum throwing, all was made well in the world by a caramello koala and a revisit to text message shenanigans. Thank goodness for my simple, easily distracted brain.

And in another update, I finally exchanged my mismatched/sized ugg boot. Now I have a brand spanking new size 8 for my left foot, and a nicely worn in -stretched and moulded size 8 for my right foot. Oh the drama that is my life!

Words of Inspiration

Todays calendar quote comes from one Eric Burdon (former lead singer of The Animals) :

You've got to create a dream. You've got to uphold the dream. If you can't, then
bugger it. Go back to the factory, or back to the desk.

Hmmm, what ever happened to "If at first you don't succeed, try and try again."

I hear music

Every now and then we play Spicks and Specks in our office using whatever dodgy music we can find....

Todays dodgy song "I Remember You" by Skidrow.

Brilliant.

And I am instantly happy

Woah is me.

Swings and roundabouts. Sunshine and lollipops. Tears and laughter. Worry and relief.
The last six weeks have seen me oscillate wildly between many a polarised emotion. I mean, if I could indulge myself some dramatics for a few minutes, lets just say its been the best of times and its been the worst of times. (I did said "indulge" and "dramatic"...)

Not to go into too much detail (because where is the drama in facts?) I have of late been wallowing in my own self pity. Thinking about rejection, the dark scary future, the lack of a dark scary future and of course, my shuffling off this mortal coil. Not that its been all doom and gloom - I have of recent times shared some of the happiest moments with people I love - from crazy Holly Golightly adventures with my sometime George Peppard, skipping through the streets of Melbourne and running through the Sydney rain, to agreeing to all-nighters of writing with Susie and crashing through our writers block, laughing ourselves silly and dreaming the big dreams.
Oh its not all bad news.

So where did all these negative musings come from? (I'll remind you of the aforementioned "indulge" and "dramatic") After way too much introspection I found myself focusing on all the rejections I have suffered. The "you're nothing like your sister" comments. The "we forgot to tell you" parties I found out about on Monday mornings. The "I really just think of you as a friend" knock backs. The "are you still fat?" queries from my agent. The "how fat?" follow ups from same agent. The "you're not Jewish enough", the "oh I got married, didn't you know", the "my ex is having a baby and I am the father" conversations. Lets just say spending too much time on these kind osf thoughts isn't great for ones emotional state.

And what with my chest pains (which have eased thanks to massage) and the lump I found in my neck (which resulted in my having to stand semi naked yet again in front of medical practitioners and have my boobs kneaded rather forcefully. NB. treat every visit to the doctors like a date. Wear the better underwear and remove excess body hair. Even if you think you are only seeing about a lump in your NECK!) have made me think "what if I die?" which leads to "one day I will die!" which leads to "what if there's nothing after all this?" and then "what would I regret?" and the inevitable "what am I going to do about it?"

Around about this time (somewhere between bottles of red wine and chocolate and dare I say it, romantic comedies - damn you The Holiday you stupid stupid movie.) I saw a man with severe disabilities walking across the road. It would have been hard enough for him to walk. You could see how much of an effort it was just getting across the road - but he was also carrying a heap of shopping. (I of course wondered why he didn't just catch a bus.....but then I was missing the point....) I thought, Buck up Buckers. You really don't have it that bad. Remember the skipping through Melbourne? Remember running through the rain in Sydney? Didn't you get to smooch a handsome charming man recently? How about when you and Susie shook on a deal and you gave her an electric shock? Hey haven't you got a trip to Ireland planned soon? A family that really love you?

Yeah I do remember all of that.

And the lump is apparently just fat. (I must remember to tell my agent!)

Ugh.

I bought a new pair of slippers yesterday.

Well by slippers I mean Ugg Boots.

And by Ugg Boots I mean Peter Alexanders Home Boots.

And by bought I mean invested.

And by that I mean they are not exactly cheap.....but they are cute and funky and heck, I wanted them.

So I put them on as soon as I got home. I danced around my bedroom in them. I danced around the loungroom in them. I mopped the floor in them. I put the rubbish out in them. I spilt tea on them. And then I noticed....

THEY ARE TWO DIFFERENT SIZES. The right is a comfy size 8. The left is a roomy size 10.

But its too late now, I cannot take them back as I have clearly, in the course of one night, worn them in.

Ugh.

Pass the paper bag please.

I just got an email from Susie - "Fringe applications close June 13th" - and just like that my breath has been knocked out of me.

When did I become so anxious? I mean, its usually as a result of something exciting about to happen, but still, I could do without all the panic attacks.

Looking back on past posts, I can see them all lined up - anxiety over travel (to exciting destinations where friends and adventures await), over shows (that see happy revellers laughing and enjoying themselves at festivals around the country), over my job (which pays the bills, serves the community and gives me paid leave for things like the travelling and the shows), over men (who surprise me romantically on my birthday and give knee trembling kisses and reasons to grin like a foolish fool) - its a little disturbing.

And what with the long weekend coming (the man), August around the corner (the travel) and the Melbourne Fringe festival (we should really start writing that show) I am not sure my nervous system can survive all this good fortune!

AND WHY DO I STILL HAVE CHEST PAINS???????

24

After a crazy month long countdown, there is only 1 sleep to go.

24 more hours to wait.

I am already crazy nervous and excited. Too much anticipation perhaps? No, just the perfect amount.

Happy Birthday Flash!

A heck of a lot to smile about

This is one of those posts that is all about me reminding myself how good I have it and to stop whingeing and moaning like a old whingey moaner.

So here is what is going on in my little world that turns my frown upside down (and distracts me from my annoyingly still present chest pains - damn you medicine!!!!)

• Susie and I are making our Comedy Channel debut this week when a Gala we performed in is being aired. We did about 5 minutes of material and then sang our song about premature ejaculation. I am both full of bliss and dread - my parents are going to hear the song for the first time. Oh my.
• Scrabble Unscripted had its crazy successful swansong a few weeks ago. It was sad to say this current goodbye to a show that launched us into the festival scene and saw some very important relationships, both personally and professionally, develop. It was a huge show and a fitting send off - something I know us Scrabblers are very proud of.
• I have my very own stalker (hi Paul!) which is very exciting. By stalker of course I don't mean in a creepy, intrusive, scared to put out the rubbish kinda way. More in a google search, post a comment, friends on facebook kinda way. See, nothing wrong about that right?
• There is only just over a week until I am Melbourne bound and in the company of my favourite gent to celebrate his birthday. 9 sleeps. I am very very excited!!
• To help with the wait until my Melbourne visit, I have been and am about to be visited by Melbourners....so lovely to see faces from happy times in my home town. I have had a weekend of smiles with Ben McKenzie who cannot help but make the world a lovelier place and this weekend I am joined by Janelle Koenig - my personal style guru (thanks to a VERY successful shopping day full of laughs and charges to my credit card.)

So with so much to smile about, how can I let a little thing like my potential expiration from chest pains worry me? I mean, if I go, I go with a lot to be happy about....and you all know I love you right? Right? Well, buck up then Buckley and get ready, you've got a house guest coming in two days and an empty fridge, not to mention a load of washing to get through, running the vacuum over the flat wouldn't be a bad idea either ... now stop you're moaning and hop to it!

Shirley You Can't Be Serious?

Last night I fell asleep while playing "Shirley Bassey Love Songs". Instead of having lovely dreams about love and romance or intrigue and espionage (as would be the theme of many a Bassey song) the impact of the Shirley was much more subtle.
In every conversation I was a part of in my dreaming state last night, I found I could only communicate in a Shirley Bassey belt.

I may just try it in the daylight - I mean, that woman knows how to pronounce a T and a D and a little bit of vibrato never hurt anyone right?

Karma

"Hey how are you?"

"well, thanks, how are you?"

{Insert sneeze here}

"Sick." she pulls a tissue from somewhere under her bra strap, blows her nose and tucks the tissue into her bra again. "What can I get for you?"

At that moment I should have said "nothing. You can get me nothing. Your healthy co-worker over there though, well he can make me a toasted chicken cheese and avocado sandwich thanks."
But I didn't. I placed my order with her. And she, being the diligent sandwich maker she was, made the sandwich. She stopped to sniff, and then put the sandwich in the press.

"Thats $8.50".

Wow. An expensive sandwich. The avocado cost extra and the toasting cost extra, I wonder if she also charged me for the terrible bout of illness I will surely suffer within the next few days.

As she hands me over my germ ridden lunch, I say "Thanks, hope you feel better."

She sniffs once more, "Thanks. I think I will go home now."

Damn. If only I had not pushed the little old lady out of the way to get my lunch first.....

Bloody karma!

Its getting better all the time...

On the weekend I am going to the Christening of the son of an old school friend of mine.

I am really looking forward to sharing the day with him and his wife and I have kept in relatively good touch with Chris, although mainly by email. I am a little nervous though, as I imagine two of the guests will be my ex-best friend who I used to think I was in love with, and the girl he knocked up when we were possibly embarking on the beginnings of a relationship.
This was years and years ago now, there have been a lot of tears, some angry episodes, heated discussions and avoidance's since, but its been a while since I have seen them. They have had a son, broken up, gotten back together, broken up, gotten engaged, planned a wedding, cancelled a wedding, broken up and gotten back together in that time...
If you had of asked me five years ago would I still want to be with him, the answer would have been a stupid yes. Nothing could be further from the truth now.
I was devastated for such a long time by it when it all happened, and I know people have gone through a lot worse, but I really felt like I would never find anyone remotely like him.
I hope that's true. I never want to find anyone remotely like him. And I could not be better for having gone through it all. As a result of my heart being broken, I vowed to just "go for it" and found myself singing, travelling, improvising, laughing, dancing and being HAPPY. All of this AND my heart has fluttered again....good good times indeed.
However, like any female, I have begun to get a little nervy at the thought of seeing the two of them again - I asked a mutual friend ".....how does she look?" (Like ANY female!) My friend replied "Oh you have NOTHING to worry about. She's packed it on." (Like ANY good friend).

Its incredibly shallow of me I know and I hope one day to grow out of this, but I'm now looking forward to seeing her.

Is that all there is????

Its over. All that anticipation, preparation, excitation....and now? Nothing.

The Melbourne International Comedy Festival 2008 has been and gone.

In 2006, a little show called Scrabble Unscripted went down to Melbourne for 6 shows only. We were so wide eyed and full of wonder. We partied til 5am EVERY morning and flyered our hearts out and finished our week knowing we would be back but that the next time we would stick out the entire month.

In 2007, we came back. It was a hard slog. The daily flyering, the nightly parties, the nervousness, the fledgling romance....a pretty overwhelming month - so tiring but so completely rewarding. I have some of my most favourite memories from that month. Rehearsing dance moves for Flashdance, singing to a room bursting with people dancing on tables, riding a Ferris wheel with a few hundred people cheering me on, getting our first 4 star review, being kissed by my festival crush and then walking into a telegraph pole..... bliss.

And now, 2008, its all over for another year. We worked really hard this year - I did 3 different shows totally 30 performances. There were great nights, good nights and nights I have wiped clean from my mind....so many friendly faces I was happy to see again, new friendly faces I look forward to seeing again and so many new memories that make me instantly smile, giggle and even a little teary. Ahhh, my Melbourne love affair continues.....bring on 2009.

Things that make me go huh?

I normally work in maintenance depots. These are usually demountable style buildings in the middles of yards filled with trucks, aggregrates, dirty men in dirty work clobber. You know, maintenance depots.

Today however, I am working out of head office in the City. So this is a more corporate environment, there is a dress code, people don't seem to hold meetings around the smoko bin, and there is considerably less swearing.

What should disturb me then? Here where the seats are not covered in unidentified stains, that given I work in the sewer industry, could actually be excrement.
Well, what I find disturbing is the massive "how to wash your hands" posters in all the bathrooms.
Seriously.
1) Using soap dispenser, place a small amount of soap on your hands.
2) Turn water on and lather soap into your hands.
3) Rub hands together to remove dirt and germs.
4) Rinse, from fingertips to wrist, the soap from your hands.
5) Turn water off.
6) Using a hand toll from hand towel dispenser, dry hands.
7) Dispose soiled towel in bin.

What is the world coming to?????

Alexander Graham Bell, I salute you!

My 3 yr old nephew Jackson called me last night.
It was pretty much the best phone call I have ever had in my life. We talk on the phone quite a bit, but this was the first time he has requested to call me.
He got a new car.
Its silver and very fast.

I reckon it sounded pretty cool myself.

So thank you, Mr Bell.

Note to self:

If and when I start to feel all whingey and whiney and woe is me, remember how I feel right now....pretty bloody happy.

Why?

Happy weekends away, The Supper Inn, Spaghetti Bolognaise, Rare collectables still in their original "touch me" packaging, The Mighty Boosh, Tanqueray, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, fine dining and great red wine (followed by superb dessert wine) and guilt-free extra serves of Belgian Chocolate Sauce.

Thats why.

News Flash?

Is it just me, or is Billy Elliot just a remake of Flashdance?

I mean, the audition scenes are almost identical, and sure Alex was a Welder and Billy was the son of a Miner and well, Alex was a stripper of sorts and well, Billy a school kid - but come on!!!

COME ON!!!!!

And the (heart) beat goes on....

OK, so I am still alive.

I went to the Doctors last week to check out the weird heart/tingles/neck pain that has steadily continued though more neck and arm pain than heart nowadays. Of course, just to be safe, I was sent for an ECG which is where they stick all the things on your chest and check your heart out.

Anyway, not having had one before I was expecting to have to go shirt off, but when I commented on the fact that "I should have worn my best bra" the woman in charge politely said I would be losing that too.

So, standing topless and having the likes of electrodes strapped to my torso was not exactly the way I imagined Valentines Day this year - but I did get a bit of a feeling up when my breast was lifted up (without warning or consultation) so a sensor could be placed there. Yes, the joy of the ample bosom.

Of course it should have been a quick procedure, but instead, as I was meant to be having the sensors removed the woman noticed something was not right, "Oh, my left is your right.... sorry I will have to start again" ... and the boob is touched yet again without warning.

Finally she has it sorted its, underway and then its over, but not before her daughters engagement party photos are presented to me and explained in full "Roses were just too pricey this close to Valentines Day", while I am still topless, pretending to be cool about it, waiting for the sticky spots to be removed.

The following day was less eventful, neck x-rays. Of course I still had to go topless, but they were nice enough to give me one of those tissue-like robes to wear.

I should find out what the hell is wrong with me tomorrow.

All that aside however, I was made incredibly happier by a wonderful weekend complete with an unexpected visit, a kinda swanky hotel stay, a joyous get together with dazzling city views, a smooch or two, a lovely wedding sneek-peek, brunches, coffees, gossips and beers.

A good weekend for sure.

I know its Valentines Day, but this is ridiculous!!

Love. A welling in the chest. Heart skips a beat. Butterflies in your belly....Tingly sensations all over.

OR

The first signs of a heart attack.

Just to be sure, I am off to the doctors to rule it out.

Seriously.

Like am I destined to be a spazz all my life?

Example: I used to think I could see peoples auras. Really. I did. But then, and this is honest to goodness truth, I had my eyes tested and it turns out it wasn't peoples auras, it was just that everything was just a little blurry.

Also, I once had to pretend - for 30 days - that I was deaf in my right ear on a Contiki tour because I made the mistake of ignoring someones conversation and then used the excuse that I was deaf in one ear and so didn't know that they were talking to me. Too late did I notice the hearing aid of the guy sitting next to me.... that was one looooong month.

So, since the weird pain in my chest and the ever so slight tingly feeling in my arm has not gone away, I shall rule out anything serious.... after all, I could just be lifting too heavy weights perhaps. I mean, I read about a guy today, 570kgs - now how come he doesn't have a weird pain in his chest huh?????

HUH???

2 weeks and 6 days

or

20 days

or

480 hours

or

28800 minutes

or

1728000 seconds
oh no I mean 1727999 seconds
1727998
no 1727997
um 1727996
nope 1727995...
you get the picture.

I'm feeling a little:

alert, anticipative, anxious, awaiting, breathless, eager, hopeful, hoping, in suspense, looking for, on edge, on tenterhooks, prepared, raring, ready, vigilant, waiting, waiting on, watchful

well, at least thats what the thesaurus tells me. Hmmm.

In Celebration of:

* Fresh bread rolls for lunch. Thank you Mr Bakery-Man (or Woman) for your baked goodness, all crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

* Cabaret shows performed by friends which rock the audience and impress my parents.

* New Kids On The Block reforming perhaps. NO MORE GAMES BOYS!

* Men who have been pretentious since 1998. Ain't no changing those leopards spots.

* Nephews who turn 3.

* Co-workers lending you awesome CD's. (that you wouldn't burn because its wrong.)

* Scary nightmares that make you wake up and realise you are safe and warm and happy in bed.

Hip Hip Hooooooray!!!!!!

Let's Hear it for the Boy!!

Susie and I were witness to something very very very special the other night. We were lucky enough to be ticket holders for a Sufjan Stevens gig. Concert. Show. Celebration. Experience. Thing.

I have been a part of many a special musical moment - Jeff Buckley playing at the Coogee Bay Hotel to around 500 people, Rufus Wainwright playing acoustic to 100 people at the Seymour Centre, Michael Franti hugging an entire audience one by one at Byron Bay, MC Hammer at the Entertainment Centre - really really special moments in music....but this was something else.

Sufjan Stevens makes you smile. Laugh. Hug. Weep. Love. Mourn. The whole kit and caboodle ... and he can hula a hoop like no other man I've ever seen.

If I could find more words I would use them to just continue to rave and rave and rave! Alas, words fail me. All I can really say is that the world is a much more beautiful place with Sufjan in it.

So come on and hear the Illinoise!

Amanda went to the mosh pit (and didn't even get a lousy T-Shirt)

But boy, do I have some bruises.

Last night, I, along with my mate Heather, braved the teenagers and went to the Kings Of Leon concert. My god were they good. Just brilliant. They have all the makings of a really massive rock band, and, thankfully, none of the stadium arena fan fare. Just four guys, guitars and drums and a heaving room of happy punters.
We found ourselves, with relative ease, pretty close to the front and in the middle. There was almost a view to the stage - apart from the girl in front of me who insisted on filming the entire show on her phone which meant that really, she missed the entire concert.
There was a lovely older guy (had to have been 30 at least) who allowed Heather and I to slip in the wee space in front of him, of course he then thought this allowed him to feel us up under the guise of "can you see? Are you getting hit? Here let me just touch your boob" ... you know that kind of thing. Maybe not so lovely?

All in all, I have to say, the live, moshy experience is an unparalleled mix of joy and pain. Its fun and crazy and hot and stuffy, smelly and sweaty and electric and adrenalised. There will come a day that I will be punched I am sure ("Yeah well the sign says no smoking, so please extinguish it or I will be forced to report you to those guards over there young man") or maybe throw one myself ("what part of stop whipping my face with your ponytail do you not get lady?") but in the meantime, while I still have at least a little kick left, I will still try and "get to the front" and rock out.

I have one complaint though, I understand they have two types of T-Shirts at merchandise counters that usually go like this "MENS: S M L XL XXL" and "GIRLS: 8 10 12" .... Well I am a woman. WOMAN. I am not a girl and I am certainly not a man. But sometimes, just sometimes, I want to buy a T-Shirt. SO WHY WON'T ANYONE LET ME??????

Yeah, rock n roll!

Thank God I'm Here.

I was nearly killed in the early hours of this morning.

In a weird artwork-over-bed accident, my sleep was well and truly interrupted and I narrowly escaped serious harm. I narrowly escaped potential cuts and bruises. Somewhere between a wee fright and death. That is what I narrowly escaped.

You can imagine then, the crazy things that I have been thinking about. What if I had not have had a nightmare about spiders with huge extendable legs and so had not woken just in time to sit up and catch the large wooden frame that fell off the wall? I think I will buy some new pyjama's and clean my bedroom just in case. In an emergency, no one has time to clean. Or put on something flattering.

And now that I have looked death (well, possible cuts and bruises) in the face, I feel the need to make every moment count. Of course spending my time at work and posting blogs is not necessarily reflective of the "making it count" mentality but you know, maybe I will buy that airfare and ticket to Ireland for the Electric Picnic? And maybe, just maybe, my epiphany will be realised by many. Or at least two.

Its a slow release spontaneity, but its there.

Epiphany.

I've had one. And it felt good.