Chris writes "AB, just call me, easier to explain. My work number is 0407....."
So, annoyed that he demands I call him instead of him just calling me, I dial his digits, with what can only be described as "a bit of a 'tude".
"Hello? Hello? Nup, can't hear you..... wait.......nup. You'll have to leave a message".
WORST. VOICEMAIL MESSAGE. EVER.
So I tell him what I think in the message I leave, "That is shite. No way I am calling you again now. Shittest message ever. Not funny, just shite. You've done your dash Chris. That's the last time I call you".
Of course, to me and Chris, who I have known since I was 16, this would be par for the course message leaving. I mean, those messages are not funny. They are definitely not original. All they are, is in fact, annoying.
I email him again instead, "You're message is stupid and I will not call you again".
He writes "Aw come on AB you sourpuss. I'm free now, call me again."
I call again. Voicemail. No way. I hang up. Email again "You can call me from now on"
My phone rings. Our conversation goes like this:
Me: Hello.
Him: What do you mean my message is shit? This is my work phone.
Me: You know that stupid "hello? hello?" business. STUPID (like I said, I had an attitude)
Him: What are you talking about?
Me: What?
Him: What?
Me: Huh?
Him: What are you talking about?
Me: Well at least I have your new number.
Him: Its not new.
Me: Yes it is .... 0407 etc.
Him: No, my number is 0408...
Me: That's not what you sent in your email.
Him: HA.
Me: What?
Him: I gave you the wrong number. You dialled the wrong number.
Right then, my land line rings - the same phone that I had minutes earlier dialled 0407 from and left a message on basically saying "you are shit" with.
"Hello?"
"Ahhh yeah. I got two missed calls from this number....."
"Yeah, that was me. Sorry. I thought you were my friend."
"You left a message"
"Yeah. Like I said I thought you were my friend. Sorry. Sorry. I really do apologise."
"OK."
"Bye?"
Click.
Yeah. I basically called him shit. It was recorded. I should not have really expected the usual chit chat. Oh well. I still think his message was indeed, shit.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Wisdom of Bjork
Lately, I find myself, gazing at stars
Hearing guitars
Like someone in love
Lately I seem to walk as if I had wings
Bump into things
Like someone in loveSometimes the things I do astound me - mostly whenever you're around me.
(insert gutteral gurgling sound here).
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Here we go again....
Like most things in a calendar year, April comes around every twelve months or so. And yep, here it comes again.
I love April. I always have, but year after year, my love of this fourth month grows.
As a kid it was the fact that it pretty much meant Easter holidays - chocolate, Easter Showbags, chocolate, crisp mornings and weekend barbeque's. Basketball tournaments where I could run around with the other basketball brats, making prank phone calls from the stadium office and sausage sizzles for breakfast when my parents were manning the deck.
As an adult it started becoming that month when I began really feeling the effects of seasonal change. Those crisp mornings started bringing on nostalgic memories - and you knew the year was well and truly underway. With summer dimming rapidly out of daylight savings time, it meant time to roll up the sleeves and get down to work.
Then April, and its Easter counterpart, brought with it the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival. I only managed a few of these before the soon to be discussed Comedy Festival took precedence, but this festival of music and food and all round loving up is still my favourite of all the festivals and has secured it place in my heart with memories of old friends waiting in the "shower train" and eating slices of pizza while dancing in a field to our first taste of Ozomatli or Michael Franti. We would sit up late playing more music back in our rented house, drinking wine, playing cards or backgammon and laughing with such warmth and familiarity that even now, fills me with pure joy.
But suddenly came The Melbourne International Comedy Festival. This year will be my fourth and from January onwards, friends and fellow performers start counting down.... how many months, weeks, days, hours till opening night. There is all the prep work - the idea, the writing (I usually leave this up to others:) the meetings, the rehearsals, the budgeting, the advertising, the anticipation!!!! And suddenly, you have four more sleeps and its Tullamarine here you come!
Its more than the festival itself though - its reuniting with people you met last year, hung out with, got to know, actually became buddies with and you all said "see you next year" and you genuinely hoped you would.
Also, its a month in Melbourne. Not just a stolen weekend, a fly by Friday night see you Sunday afternoon thing. Its four whole weeks....and the chance to catch up nice and proper with the city. And maybe someone you might just have a crush on. Yeah, that's probably the best part. The real reason I love April so much.
Oh yeah, and there is still chocolate right?
I love April. I always have, but year after year, my love of this fourth month grows.
As a kid it was the fact that it pretty much meant Easter holidays - chocolate, Easter Showbags, chocolate, crisp mornings and weekend barbeque's. Basketball tournaments where I could run around with the other basketball brats, making prank phone calls from the stadium office and sausage sizzles for breakfast when my parents were manning the deck.
As an adult it started becoming that month when I began really feeling the effects of seasonal change. Those crisp mornings started bringing on nostalgic memories - and you knew the year was well and truly underway. With summer dimming rapidly out of daylight savings time, it meant time to roll up the sleeves and get down to work.
Then April, and its Easter counterpart, brought with it the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival. I only managed a few of these before the soon to be discussed Comedy Festival took precedence, but this festival of music and food and all round loving up is still my favourite of all the festivals and has secured it place in my heart with memories of old friends waiting in the "shower train" and eating slices of pizza while dancing in a field to our first taste of Ozomatli or Michael Franti. We would sit up late playing more music back in our rented house, drinking wine, playing cards or backgammon and laughing with such warmth and familiarity that even now, fills me with pure joy.
But suddenly came The Melbourne International Comedy Festival. This year will be my fourth and from January onwards, friends and fellow performers start counting down.... how many months, weeks, days, hours till opening night. There is all the prep work - the idea, the writing (I usually leave this up to others:) the meetings, the rehearsals, the budgeting, the advertising, the anticipation!!!! And suddenly, you have four more sleeps and its Tullamarine here you come!
Its more than the festival itself though - its reuniting with people you met last year, hung out with, got to know, actually became buddies with and you all said "see you next year" and you genuinely hoped you would.
Also, its a month in Melbourne. Not just a stolen weekend, a fly by Friday night see you Sunday afternoon thing. Its four whole weeks....and the chance to catch up nice and proper with the city. And maybe someone you might just have a crush on. Yeah, that's probably the best part. The real reason I love April so much.
Oh yeah, and there is still chocolate right?
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I surrender.
I was told on the weekend that I need to update my blog. So, here is my update.
Life has been pretty challenging for many people over the last month - half the country is burning and half the country is flooded. People in the southern states have had record high temperatures and are facing severe water restrictions. A man threw his little girl off a bridge, shocking us all, some people calling for his death - others calling for more help for clearly broken, sick people who explode in horrendous, unfathomable ways. Reading headlines over the past few weeks, many of us have felt horrified, helpless and incredibly sad.
Meanwhile, somehow, my life continued on its own little path (as I guess it does for all) - I spent New Years with someone I love, have had visitors from across the world bring smiles and laughter into my living room. I dressed up as a sheriff when my nephew turned four and drank Moet with my best friend in a nice hotel after a great wedding with friends. I spent a week performing a brilliantly clever and funny show to sellout audiences of friends and family, marvelled at the wonder and sexiness of La Clique, cheered and hurrahed for my mates new sketch show, felt more special than ever on the most commercial of days, yahoo'ed Rockwiz at the Bowl and landed a few more gigs.
In times of distress, it feels unjustified, inappropriate even to laugh or celebrate. I cannot help but think though, that in these times, its actually even more important to find something to give hope or optimism. I can not begin to imagine how devastating it is for the families of the deceased or the survivors left with nothing. I can however, be ever so grateful to have what I have, be able to help where I can and look forward to better days.
Everyday I am reminded of all the good in the world, even when it feels so dark. I am lucky. So very very lucky.
Life has been pretty challenging for many people over the last month - half the country is burning and half the country is flooded. People in the southern states have had record high temperatures and are facing severe water restrictions. A man threw his little girl off a bridge, shocking us all, some people calling for his death - others calling for more help for clearly broken, sick people who explode in horrendous, unfathomable ways. Reading headlines over the past few weeks, many of us have felt horrified, helpless and incredibly sad.
Meanwhile, somehow, my life continued on its own little path (as I guess it does for all) - I spent New Years with someone I love, have had visitors from across the world bring smiles and laughter into my living room. I dressed up as a sheriff when my nephew turned four and drank Moet with my best friend in a nice hotel after a great wedding with friends. I spent a week performing a brilliantly clever and funny show to sellout audiences of friends and family, marvelled at the wonder and sexiness of La Clique, cheered and hurrahed for my mates new sketch show, felt more special than ever on the most commercial of days, yahoo'ed Rockwiz at the Bowl and landed a few more gigs.
In times of distress, it feels unjustified, inappropriate even to laugh or celebrate. I cannot help but think though, that in these times, its actually even more important to find something to give hope or optimism. I can not begin to imagine how devastating it is for the families of the deceased or the survivors left with nothing. I can however, be ever so grateful to have what I have, be able to help where I can and look forward to better days.
Everyday I am reminded of all the good in the world, even when it feels so dark. I am lucky. So very very lucky.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Culture Shock
My workplace is an extraordinary place. It's like its own little community, with its own laws, its own hierarchy, in short, its own way of doing things.
The average age of the average employee is 54.
English is the 3rd most popular language spoken at home.
There are around 400 employees in my division and about 30 of them are female.
When I started working here eight years ago, to be frank, it was quite the culture shock.
It wasn't just the swearing. I mean, I have heard my fair share of cussing if you know what I mean, but it was well above the usual usage of certain words normally reserved for such occasions as hitting your thumb with a hammer.
It wasn't just the manner in which I was suddenly referred to as "girl". I mean, I was a girl when I started work and from all reports, I am still, a girl.(though somewhat older, I can still get away with pony tails).
It wasn't even the discovery of the piss bottle that had me raising an eyebrow. Afterall, if you worked outside all day, driving around from suburb to suburb in a truck, there are going to be times when you just can't make it back to the office for a wee right? I mean, you gotta go when you gotta go right? (though there are somethings that a girl just doesn't need to know about...)
What was the biggest culture shock for me, and still takes me aback at times, is the manner in which my co-workers feel free to comment, without censor, on my life, my looks, my everything.
Example 1.
One day I ate an apple. In fact, I have been known to eat apples from time to time as I like them. This apple eating incident was witnessed by Giovanni Santo who commented with "Ah, its good that you are on a diet. You are fat."
Ummm, not on a diet actually, just eating an apple!
Example 2.
"Amanda, I was thinking about you last night. I saw an ad for contestants on The Biggest Loser and thought you know, maybe that is your way to get on tele. You know, coz of your acting and stuff."
Did he just call me fat as well?
Example 3.
"Girl, why aren't you married?" - ummm, because I have not met the right guy yet? "No, its because you talk too much." Ummmm, thanks for that.
Example 4.
When trying to work out a nice place to go for lunch, "Lets ask Amanda, she looks like she knows where to get good food." WHAT???
Example 5.
After I turned down the invitation from a co-worker to go on a date with him, "I don't want to marry you, I just want to give you one."
Yeah, a sweet talker!
Example 6.
"Your hair looks nice"
I reply with gratitude.
"You washed it I think. It looked dirty yesterday."
Wow. Thems detective skills right there.
I could go on and on, but basically it all boils down to me being fat, unmarried, talkative with dirty hair. Though, apparently, if most of the men here were twenty years younger, well, I would need to watch out.
And on the plus side, I can say shit in eight different languages.
The average age of the average employee is 54.
English is the 3rd most popular language spoken at home.
There are around 400 employees in my division and about 30 of them are female.
When I started working here eight years ago, to be frank, it was quite the culture shock.
It wasn't just the swearing. I mean, I have heard my fair share of cussing if you know what I mean, but it was well above the usual usage of certain words normally reserved for such occasions as hitting your thumb with a hammer.
It wasn't just the manner in which I was suddenly referred to as "girl". I mean, I was a girl when I started work and from all reports, I am still, a girl.(though somewhat older, I can still get away with pony tails).
It wasn't even the discovery of the piss bottle that had me raising an eyebrow. Afterall, if you worked outside all day, driving around from suburb to suburb in a truck, there are going to be times when you just can't make it back to the office for a wee right? I mean, you gotta go when you gotta go right? (though there are somethings that a girl just doesn't need to know about...)
What was the biggest culture shock for me, and still takes me aback at times, is the manner in which my co-workers feel free to comment, without censor, on my life, my looks, my everything.
Example 1.
One day I ate an apple. In fact, I have been known to eat apples from time to time as I like them. This apple eating incident was witnessed by Giovanni Santo who commented with "Ah, its good that you are on a diet. You are fat."
Ummm, not on a diet actually, just eating an apple!
Example 2.
"Amanda, I was thinking about you last night. I saw an ad for contestants on The Biggest Loser and thought you know, maybe that is your way to get on tele. You know, coz of your acting and stuff."
Did he just call me fat as well?
Example 3.
"Girl, why aren't you married?" - ummm, because I have not met the right guy yet? "No, its because you talk too much." Ummmm, thanks for that.
Example 4.
When trying to work out a nice place to go for lunch, "Lets ask Amanda, she looks like she knows where to get good food." WHAT???
Example 5.
After I turned down the invitation from a co-worker to go on a date with him, "I don't want to marry you, I just want to give you one."
Yeah, a sweet talker!
Example 6.
"Your hair looks nice"
I reply with gratitude.
"You washed it I think. It looked dirty yesterday."
Wow. Thems detective skills right there.
I could go on and on, but basically it all boils down to me being fat, unmarried, talkative with dirty hair. Though, apparently, if most of the men here were twenty years younger, well, I would need to watch out.
And on the plus side, I can say shit in eight different languages.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
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
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
Monday, December 08, 2008
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:
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".
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
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!!!
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!!!
Monday, November 17, 2008
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 :
"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?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
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.....
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.....
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, September 26, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, September 22, 2008
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!
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!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
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.
"God, imagine being married to you... what a nightmare...."
Needless to say, I am in a super mood.
Monday, August 18, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, August 11, 2008
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.
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.
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