Still heres.
Flirted with the idea of creating a whole new identity but would be too lonely - also thought about suspended animation (is that what it's called? where you life pauses?) but you can see I obviously don't know enough about it. Also - changed my mind on that for a little while.
Wish there was something exciting to give you guys, but seemingly not - I've just had some more raisin toast (you guys HAVE to try that extra thick cafe style from the bread aisle) and am about to go to cardio-boxing class then clean up the house because we have a stinking house inspection on Friday.
I guess my yoyoing still continues - I kinda feel like that wire that our neighbours used to tie between their fruit trees. It was tense but relaxed, and as soon as a bird landed on it it would vibrate like nothing else. Not that I have birds landing on me, but you know what I mean. Surely you do?
I worry about not having friends, then feel happy to have so many lovely friends; I feel secure in my relationship, then I freak out and look to poke holes and doubt; I am happy with how I look and feel then I freak out and then I binge.
I guess it's just a clashing of the times - The Hun's ex is engaged, had lunch with a friend with a baby, went to the markets with a newly pregnant friend and her son, getting ready for another two weddings later this year, a pregnant friend is visiting from interstate, people are buying houses, I'm getting older, I lost The Hun to Le'frickin'Tour and then Harry Potter, I'm begging Tony Ferguson to hurry up getting his soy shakes to a shopfront near me, Dadsy wants to put Elvis down...
You can imagine how fun I am.
Anyways, must be looking on the bright side - going to Melbourne next month, going to see Angus & Julia Stone soon, and planning to go to BDO and Homeback too.
Off the gym - will perhaps return with something more enlightening later :o)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
I can't think of the words to describe it
The other day we had a birthday at work, where it was demanded that most people in the team would bring something home-baked for the morning tea. It may be presumed that because I am vegan I am an awesome cook (as well as skinny and full of energy and piercings and bright coloured hair dye) but I'm not - so I ducked over the road and bought some packet muffin mix that was vegan and gluten free (there is also a coeliac lady on the team who doesn't often get to enjoy any of these events).
Well, I spent the morning excited about my 'home-baked' muffins - do you have any idea how long it has been since I've had muffins?! That and the fact that pack only made ten and there were ten people on the team and I didn't want anyone to miss out so I didn't get to sample one prior to the morning tea. Myself and the coeliac lady had one as soon as morning tea 'started' away and of course they were lovely - well, lovely for home-baked for packet mix muffins.
But I have got to tell you, the way these people carried on was amazing. "Oh no, I won't try it" "No, the fact we're allowing you to bring it is us being supportive" "They're completely animal free - completely taste free" "Oh! No - you have to eat the rest of it. I can't eat it." "Where is the bin?" "Why don't you just have one of the cheesecakes/spring rolls/curry puffs?".
Keep in mind, I'm a compassionate vegan as opposed to a health or science minded vegan - this means that as of late I've started buying eggs from a lady at work with hens that are pets - not for farming, not cruelly treated and not eaten/sold once laying slows. This was mainly for The Hun who likes eggs on a weekend and who does not love me buying the most expensive eggs I can find for him - and now I can have eggs on a weekend if I feel like it too. This packet mix contained an egg. There was nothing different about these muffins from other packet muffins, however no amount on trying to explain this would make them listen.
And then they laid the last straw on this camels back at about 4pm.
I was sitting at my desk (without my noise-canceling headphones in for once) and overheard them over the wall telling a guy from another area to have something to eat. "There's some of these muffins left - Enny made them, they're vegan - you should try some!" and followed by a few cackles from others. I walked in and stood by the door, only to have the birthday lady spin around with a shocked look on her face as she exclaimed "I thought you were at uni!". Like that suddenly made the whole thing ok.
And I thought to myself - if I could just get these people to really think and listen for 60 seconds, what would I say?
This is where your pork, bacon and ham come from:
This is a pig. She is not pork, she is not ham and she is not bacon - she is a living creature. She will spend her life surrounded by thick, cold metal bars and living on wet, feces-caked concrete floors. When she has been artificially impregnated she will spend her pregnancy in a crate too small for her to turn around or lie comfortably - some will be tied such that they can never get a break from the suckling piglets kept in a seperate concrete area.
These piglets are taken away from mother within a month (many months earlier than they would be in nature). Whilst the mother is then forcibly impregnated again (this will continue for a few years until she is exhausted and is shipped off to slaughter) the piglets have their testicles cut out, have pieces of their ears cut out for 'identification purposes', have their tails docked and their incisor teeth cut off - all without pain relief. Each time you have a roast pork roll, fill up on breakfast bacon on your weekend away or make those ham sandwiches for your children's lunches you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.
This is where your beef comes from:
While cattle and sheep are the only farmed animals allowed to do natural things like breath fresh air and feel the sun, they are branded with third degree burns from hot fire irons and males have their testicles removed and horns cut or burned off without pain relief.
After a year in the elements, the cows are crammed into trucks and shipped to auction lots and holding pens. They are fed on a diet unnatural to them that is designed to fatten them up - in many cases it also causes their innards to ulcerate and rupture as well as liver abscesses in just under 1/3rd of cattle raised for beef. The conditions they are kept in causes many to become very unwell - many of these sick cattle are pumped with human antibiotics to keep them alive until slaughter time. Each time you have steak, sausage, rissole or burgers you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.
This is where your fish comes from:
The Aquaculture industry is rising three times faster than land-based agriculture. It can take five pounds of wild caught fish to produce one pound of farmed fish - these fish are packed into net or mesh cages and are rife with pollution, disease, and suffering. Up to 40% of these fish suffocate before they would be killed and packaged as food - gills are cut and they are left to bleed to death, larger fish are bashed on the head with a wooden bat and many are still alive and suffering when they cut open. Smaller fish are often left to suffocate after their water is just drained away and they are packed into ice fulling conscious, keeping them in excruciating pain for as long as 15 minutes before they die. Each time you have tuna, salmon or takeaway fish and chips you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.
This is where your eggs come from:
A large portion of each hen’s beak is cut off with a burning-hot blade and no painkillers are used. They live their lives in a cage roughly 18x20 inches with between four and ten other additional hens. They are stacked tier upon tier in warehouses, the wire mesh of the cages rubs their feathers off, chafes their skin, and cripples their feet. Many of them die the survivors are often forced to live with their dead and dying cagemates, who are left to rot.
When their egg production slows down, the so-called “spent hens” are often buried alive, thrown into trash bags to suffocate or thrown alive into high speed macerators as a cheap method of disposal. Each time you buy store bought eggs, have a vol-a-vent or omelette, or eat cake or sweets that contain eggs, you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.
This is where your dairy comes from:
Cows do not produce milk naturally without being pregnant, so they undergo continual artificial insemination, producing calves that are generally taken away within the first day. Males are sent to veal crates whether they cannot turn around or lay down, and the females are sentenced to the same sentence as their mother. Dairy cows continually bellow and call for their children, the milk intended for their babies is stolen from them.
The cows produce three times as much milk as they would normally produce, due to the hormones, genetic manipulation and intensive milking, and 30 - 50% suffer from painful mastitis. A cows typical lifespan is 20 - 25 years, however the cows of the dairy industry are killed at only four or five years of age - and even by this stage almost 40% are lame due the treatment they have receives. Each time you have milk, cheese, cake or ice-cream, you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.
This is where your leather comes from:
Leather comes from both cows that are raised for beef and milk, meaning they undergo the branding, castration, tail docking and horn removal as well as the confinement, injections, transport and slaughter. Investigations in India have found these animals have routinely had their tails broken as well as having chilli and tobacco rubbed in their eyes to keep them walking towards the slaughterhouse. When the animals are transported they are often injured in the overcrowded truck, starved, dehydrated and terrified through both blistering heat and freezing cold - many frozen to the sides of the trucks or the bottom by their feces and urine. Many collapse during the journey and many more are unable to walk themselves off the trucks and are instead dragged.
Tens of millions of cows each year are stunned, hung upside down, bled to death and then skinned. Whilst the law requires them to be unconscious before being hung, this is often not the case - many of these animals are skinned and dismembered while still alive, kicking and crying. Each time you purchase a leather coat, leather shoes or leather handbag, you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.
There is so much more here that I haven't been able to touch on - lamb, wool, chicken, turkey, animal testing, fur, rennet... but I only had 60 seconds of attention, remember?
Think about this the next time you complain that my vegan tim-tam is too gritty, that you don't like the taste of beans, that I should just buy the leather shoes that are on sale and that I should just 'have a small bite of this - it tastes so good'.
Listen to your heart - you know couldn't physically do any of those things yourself - doesn't that say something to you? Each time you eat or use an animal derived product, you may as well be. It won't stop until you stop.
(Facts and images from here and here.)
Well, I spent the morning excited about my 'home-baked' muffins - do you have any idea how long it has been since I've had muffins?! That and the fact that pack only made ten and there were ten people on the team and I didn't want anyone to miss out so I didn't get to sample one prior to the morning tea. Myself and the coeliac lady had one as soon as morning tea 'started' away and of course they were lovely - well, lovely for home-baked for packet mix muffins.
But I have got to tell you, the way these people carried on was amazing. "Oh no, I won't try it" "No, the fact we're allowing you to bring it is us being supportive" "They're completely animal free - completely taste free" "Oh! No - you have to eat the rest of it. I can't eat it." "Where is the bin?" "Why don't you just have one of the cheesecakes/spring rolls/curry puffs?".
Keep in mind, I'm a compassionate vegan as opposed to a health or science minded vegan - this means that as of late I've started buying eggs from a lady at work with hens that are pets - not for farming, not cruelly treated and not eaten/sold once laying slows. This was mainly for The Hun who likes eggs on a weekend and who does not love me buying the most expensive eggs I can find for him - and now I can have eggs on a weekend if I feel like it too. This packet mix contained an egg. There was nothing different about these muffins from other packet muffins, however no amount on trying to explain this would make them listen.
And then they laid the last straw on this camels back at about 4pm.
I was sitting at my desk (without my noise-canceling headphones in for once) and overheard them over the wall telling a guy from another area to have something to eat. "There's some of these muffins left - Enny made them, they're vegan - you should try some!" and followed by a few cackles from others. I walked in and stood by the door, only to have the birthday lady spin around with a shocked look on her face as she exclaimed "I thought you were at uni!". Like that suddenly made the whole thing ok.
And I thought to myself - if I could just get these people to really think and listen for 60 seconds, what would I say?
This is where your pork, bacon and ham come from:
This is a pig. She is not pork, she is not ham and she is not bacon - she is a living creature. She will spend her life surrounded by thick, cold metal bars and living on wet, feces-caked concrete floors. When she has been artificially impregnated she will spend her pregnancy in a crate too small for her to turn around or lie comfortably - some will be tied such that they can never get a break from the suckling piglets kept in a seperate concrete area.
These piglets are taken away from mother within a month (many months earlier than they would be in nature). Whilst the mother is then forcibly impregnated again (this will continue for a few years until she is exhausted and is shipped off to slaughter) the piglets have their testicles cut out, have pieces of their ears cut out for 'identification purposes', have their tails docked and their incisor teeth cut off - all without pain relief. Each time you have a roast pork roll, fill up on breakfast bacon on your weekend away or make those ham sandwiches for your children's lunches you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.This is where your beef comes from:
While cattle and sheep are the only farmed animals allowed to do natural things like breath fresh air and feel the sun, they are branded with third degree burns from hot fire irons and males have their testicles removed and horns cut or burned off without pain relief.
After a year in the elements, the cows are crammed into trucks and shipped to auction lots and holding pens. They are fed on a diet unnatural to them that is designed to fatten them up - in many cases it also causes their innards to ulcerate and rupture as well as liver abscesses in just under 1/3rd of cattle raised for beef. The conditions they are kept in causes many to become very unwell - many of these sick cattle are pumped with human antibiotics to keep them alive until slaughter time. Each time you have steak, sausage, rissole or burgers you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.This is where your fish comes from:
The Aquaculture industry is rising three times faster than land-based agriculture. It can take five pounds of wild caught fish to produce one pound of farmed fish - these fish are packed into net or mesh cages and are rife with pollution, disease, and suffering. Up to 40% of these fish suffocate before they would be killed and packaged as food - gills are cut and they are left to bleed to death, larger fish are bashed on the head with a wooden bat and many are still alive and suffering when they cut open. Smaller fish are often left to suffocate after their water is just drained away and they are packed into ice fulling conscious, keeping them in excruciating pain for as long as 15 minutes before they die. Each time you have tuna, salmon or takeaway fish and chips you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.This is where your eggs come from:
A large portion of each hen’s beak is cut off with a burning-hot blade and no painkillers are used. They live their lives in a cage roughly 18x20 inches with between four and ten other additional hens. They are stacked tier upon tier in warehouses, the wire mesh of the cages rubs their feathers off, chafes their skin, and cripples their feet. Many of them die the survivors are often forced to live with their dead and dying cagemates, who are left to rot.
When their egg production slows down, the so-called “spent hens” are often buried alive, thrown into trash bags to suffocate or thrown alive into high speed macerators as a cheap method of disposal. Each time you buy store bought eggs, have a vol-a-vent or omelette, or eat cake or sweets that contain eggs, you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.This is where your dairy comes from:
Cows do not produce milk naturally without being pregnant, so they undergo continual artificial insemination, producing calves that are generally taken away within the first day. Males are sent to veal crates whether they cannot turn around or lay down, and the females are sentenced to the same sentence as their mother. Dairy cows continually bellow and call for their children, the milk intended for their babies is stolen from them.
The cows produce three times as much milk as they would normally produce, due to the hormones, genetic manipulation and intensive milking, and 30 - 50% suffer from painful mastitis. A cows typical lifespan is 20 - 25 years, however the cows of the dairy industry are killed at only four or five years of age - and even by this stage almost 40% are lame due the treatment they have receives. Each time you have milk, cheese, cake or ice-cream, you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.This is where your leather comes from:
Leather comes from both cows that are raised for beef and milk, meaning they undergo the branding, castration, tail docking and horn removal as well as the confinement, injections, transport and slaughter. Investigations in India have found these animals have routinely had their tails broken as well as having chilli and tobacco rubbed in their eyes to keep them walking towards the slaughterhouse. When the animals are transported they are often injured in the overcrowded truck, starved, dehydrated and terrified through both blistering heat and freezing cold - many frozen to the sides of the trucks or the bottom by their feces and urine. Many collapse during the journey and many more are unable to walk themselves off the trucks and are instead dragged.
Tens of millions of cows each year are stunned, hung upside down, bled to death and then skinned. Whilst the law requires them to be unconscious before being hung, this is often not the case - many of these animals are skinned and dismembered while still alive, kicking and crying. Each time you purchase a leather coat, leather shoes or leather handbag, you are actively supporting this behavior and continuing this cycle of suffering.There is so much more here that I haven't been able to touch on - lamb, wool, chicken, turkey, animal testing, fur, rennet... but I only had 60 seconds of attention, remember?
Think about this the next time you complain that my vegan tim-tam is too gritty, that you don't like the taste of beans, that I should just buy the leather shoes that are on sale and that I should just 'have a small bite of this - it tastes so good'.
Listen to your heart - you know couldn't physically do any of those things yourself - doesn't that say something to you? Each time you eat or use an animal derived product, you may as well be. It won't stop until you stop.
(Facts and images from here and here.)
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Interstate travels
So - my fellow Facebookians may already be aware that my Queensland trip has been canned.
Boo.
Y'see - one of The Hun's gang of four (of which he is one) is getting married in the Blue Mountains on the exact same day I was to be Queensland for some Rinpoche spirituality, surrounded by a few days of drinking and a potential nose piercing.
I have also decided to give up on the nose piercing idea as well - I guess I am just that week that the fact that almost every single person I have spoken to about it has suggested they will absolutely hate me and shun me (mainly The Hun and my family). But then, I guess that's another conflict to mull over next time I'm PMSish. I also didn't get a Wii as compensation either. Double boo.
On a brighter note, The Hun and I will be in Melbourne next month - we're driving down on Friday 22nd to watch the comedy revue, bumming around on the Saturday and then driving back to Canberra on the Sunday.
But what are we doing Saturday night?
Hopefully having dinner and drinxors with bloggers!
Any takers?
Boo.
Y'see - one of The Hun's gang of four (of which he is one) is getting married in the Blue Mountains on the exact same day I was to be Queensland for some Rinpoche spirituality, surrounded by a few days of drinking and a potential nose piercing.
I have also decided to give up on the nose piercing idea as well - I guess I am just that week that the fact that almost every single person I have spoken to about it has suggested they will absolutely hate me and shun me (mainly The Hun and my family). But then, I guess that's another conflict to mull over next time I'm PMSish. I also didn't get a Wii as compensation either. Double boo.
On a brighter note, The Hun and I will be in Melbourne next month - we're driving down on Friday 22nd to watch the comedy revue, bumming around on the Saturday and then driving back to Canberra on the Sunday.
But what are we doing Saturday night?
Hopefully having dinner and drinxors with bloggers!
Any takers?
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Another Victor Meldrew moment
I don't believe it.
After my three (unreturned) phonecalls and two (unasnwered) emails, we finally got a call back about a house inspection.
A new lady (our third? fourth? in two years) called The Hun (not me, who has been the main contact) to say that they'll be around to conduct an inspection tomorrow.
WEDNESDAY.
The Hun calmly responded that we hadn't received any notice - she replied that she'd then cancel the inspection and send us notice - he then emailed me to let me know what was going on (and pointed out that they very obviously must be avoiding me).
"Another new agent? Did they apologise for not getting back to us early? Did they apologise for just not turning up last time? Did they say whether they had keys or not?"
None of the above.
(You can see that their contacting him was proddly in their best interest).
Imagine that - had they scrounged up their set of keys somehow, they could have just strolled in tomorrow for an impromptu inpsection (though I think that's actually illegal).
The NERVE to finally get in touch almost two months after I initially contacted them (the day after we received notice of inspection) to call The Hun to try and weasle in an inspection with one days notice?
I am just completely flabbergasted.
I will be calling them just as soon as we get that next notice, believe you me....
After my three (unreturned) phonecalls and two (unasnwered) emails, we finally got a call back about a house inspection.
A new lady (our third? fourth? in two years) called The Hun (not me, who has been the main contact) to say that they'll be around to conduct an inspection tomorrow.
WEDNESDAY.
The Hun calmly responded that we hadn't received any notice - she replied that she'd then cancel the inspection and send us notice - he then emailed me to let me know what was going on (and pointed out that they very obviously must be avoiding me).
"Another new agent? Did they apologise for not getting back to us early? Did they apologise for just not turning up last time? Did they say whether they had keys or not?"
None of the above.
(You can see that their contacting him was proddly in their best interest).
Imagine that - had they scrounged up their set of keys somehow, they could have just strolled in tomorrow for an impromptu inpsection (though I think that's actually illegal).
The NERVE to finally get in touch almost two months after I initially contacted them (the day after we received notice of inspection) to call The Hun to try and weasle in an inspection with one days notice?
I am just completely flabbergasted.
I will be calling them just as soon as we get that next notice, believe you me....
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Cheese on Toast
There's a night from many years ago that I often think about.
I was 18 and in the midst of my 'going out 3 times a week to drink and dance' phase - also known as 'the year my metabolism kicked in ', 'the year I got boobs' and 'the year I never shoulda started dating that guy'. I'd get dropped off at my pizza job after uni (by one of the ever patient friends who drove me everywhere as I took FOREVER to get my license) then they'd come back at about 11 - I'd get changed out the back of the shop and we'd head straight out to Insomnia. I'd quite often 'get into my zone' and think I was the shizz, and position myself at the front of the main stage and groove to the dance music to my drunken hearts content.
One night I was up there doing my thang when a guy called up to me 'Keep it up!' - to this day I have no idea whether I was actually dancing well OR if I was jus so tryhardy that he was encouraging me to keep practicing.
It was with this scenario in mind that I headed out to 'Cheese on Toast' on Friday night - held once a month where daggy 80's and 90's music is played and one of the only events to get gf1 out into the city. Not that I can talk - this being my first time 'out' out (ie, excluding magf's hens night) since Jan '06. Urgh.
Nayways, it went quite well! Dadsy dropped youngest bro and I at about 10 and we headed into the Transit bar for a drink (well, 1/2 a drink for me, 1 1/2 for youngest br0) before making it into Toast. We found gf1 and her friends in the back corner, and some more of my martial arts and old uni friends came around later and youngest bro was all about drinking copious amounts of vodka and trying to get me to keep up with him (I failed).
I'd already told a few ppl (youngest bro, gf1 and eldest bro's gf) that I might be meeting up with a few people that I'd half met - Dean was the one who conned me to go out after seeing my mopey Facebook message (I'd met him but I am terrible with face) and Mick was also supposed to be out (having not actually met him, but having seen photos and again with the whole face thing).
After sitting around for a while (and catching up with a friend who's having some downtime back in Canberra after breaking up with an ex in Melbourne) I saw a guy walk through and half stare at us all as he was walking past. "I think that's my friend!" I said - "I think you're right" was everyone's response - I guess you have the type of looking walk that works, Mick! So I walked up to the front of the club to check on youngest bro (who was being refused drinks at one stage, but is quite luckilly a happy, cheery, dancing drunk) and stared at the guy who was now leaning against the pole and then waited when I got back to my dark corner - it WAS him!
It was lovely to meet Mick finally, having talked to him quite a fair bit through blogging and chatting and facebooking - and am looking forward to there hopefully being another kind of Canberra blogmeet at some stage so I can be sober (for at least some of it!) and actually properly talk :o)
Wrapping up - I left at about 1am (courtesy of eldest bro's gf who dropped me home) and stayed up until 4am - I have a MORBID fear of the hangover! Luckilly some cold pizza, vegemite toast and plenty of water sent me to sleep feeling not too poorly, and woke up for a few nurofen, more water and a nap! 3 cheers for a good night out meeting lovely people and not getting a hangover!!!
(PS - Toast - PLEASE get a better DJ! At least one that doesn't play a terrible song straight after a slightly decent one and whose concept of 'mixing' is to start playing a second song shortly before the first song ends so that you just have this blast of two songs playing at the same time...!)
I was 18 and in the midst of my 'going out 3 times a week to drink and dance' phase - also known as 'the year my metabolism kicked in ', 'the year I got boobs' and 'the year I never shoulda started dating that guy'. I'd get dropped off at my pizza job after uni (by one of the ever patient friends who drove me everywhere as I took FOREVER to get my license) then they'd come back at about 11 - I'd get changed out the back of the shop and we'd head straight out to Insomnia. I'd quite often 'get into my zone' and think I was the shizz, and position myself at the front of the main stage and groove to the dance music to my drunken hearts content.
One night I was up there doing my thang when a guy called up to me 'Keep it up!' - to this day I have no idea whether I was actually dancing well OR if I was jus so tryhardy that he was encouraging me to keep practicing.
It was with this scenario in mind that I headed out to 'Cheese on Toast' on Friday night - held once a month where daggy 80's and 90's music is played and one of the only events to get gf1 out into the city. Not that I can talk - this being my first time 'out' out (ie, excluding magf's hens night) since Jan '06. Urgh.
Nayways, it went quite well! Dadsy dropped youngest bro and I at about 10 and we headed into the Transit bar for a drink (well, 1/2 a drink for me, 1 1/2 for youngest br0) before making it into Toast. We found gf1 and her friends in the back corner, and some more of my martial arts and old uni friends came around later and youngest bro was all about drinking copious amounts of vodka and trying to get me to keep up with him (I failed).
I'd already told a few ppl (youngest bro, gf1 and eldest bro's gf) that I might be meeting up with a few people that I'd half met - Dean was the one who conned me to go out after seeing my mopey Facebook message (I'd met him but I am terrible with face) and Mick was also supposed to be out (having not actually met him, but having seen photos and again with the whole face thing).
After sitting around for a while (and catching up with a friend who's having some downtime back in Canberra after breaking up with an ex in Melbourne) I saw a guy walk through and half stare at us all as he was walking past. "I think that's my friend!" I said - "I think you're right" was everyone's response - I guess you have the type of looking walk that works, Mick! So I walked up to the front of the club to check on youngest bro (who was being refused drinks at one stage, but is quite luckilly a happy, cheery, dancing drunk) and stared at the guy who was now leaning against the pole and then waited when I got back to my dark corner - it WAS him!
It was lovely to meet Mick finally, having talked to him quite a fair bit through blogging and chatting and facebooking - and am looking forward to there hopefully being another kind of Canberra blogmeet at some stage so I can be sober (for at least some of it!) and actually properly talk :o)
Wrapping up - I left at about 1am (courtesy of eldest bro's gf who dropped me home) and stayed up until 4am - I have a MORBID fear of the hangover! Luckilly some cold pizza, vegemite toast and plenty of water sent me to sleep feeling not too poorly, and woke up for a few nurofen, more water and a nap! 3 cheers for a good night out meeting lovely people and not getting a hangover!!!
(PS - Toast - PLEASE get a better DJ! At least one that doesn't play a terrible song straight after a slightly decent one and whose concept of 'mixing' is to start playing a second song shortly before the first song ends so that you just have this blast of two songs playing at the same time...!)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Oh I am ALL about the blahs
And for fear for blabbering on and causing too much concern (I'm sure it's just a combination of hormones and timing and getting old and winds they are a-changing) I will instead post this for Canberrans, as sent on to me by gf1:
Blog Jam - Blogging Competition - 31 October 2007Entries are open now for the blog competition! The ACT Writers Centre and CAP magazine (Culture Arts Politics) are sponsoring a competition called Blog Jam. The competition is open to young people under age 26 (at 31st Oct 2007) who live in the ACT region. Entries must be no more than 500 words.
Only one entry per person. There is no entry fee! Your blog could be a story, rave, diary entry, tirade, fact or fiction written by you of course. The only assessment criterion is that it must be INTERESTING WRITING.
Email your entry with Blog Jam in the subject line to youth@actwriters.org.au by 31 October 2007. Include your name, age, email address and the URL where you have posted your blog - This could be on MySpace, Blogger, WordPress or any other blog website. Do not email sound or images with your entry. The entries will be judged by a panel of writers appointed by the ACT Writers Centre. Winners will be announced at the ACT Writers Centre Christmas party on Thursday 13 December 2007 and published in CAP Magazine.
Prizes: 1st - $200 cash; 2nd - $100 cash; 3rd - $50 cash.
Winners will also receive 12 months electronic membership of the ACT Writers Centre.
For further details go to:
http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view &friendID=184317047&blogID =280544203
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
(S)no(w) woman, no cry
You may remember this picture:
This was taken nine years ago, on my last trip to the snow - a year 11 ski trip. It was also capturing the longest amount of time I was 'in' my skis once the lesson was over - I spent more happy time sliding down snow hills on my ass than I did cranky struggling around in my skis.
Eldest bro was organising a day trip to the snow - he's been with his gf and the other bro's before, but was inviting The Hun and I along as well. The Hun was keen to go, however he knew it would proddly be a waste of money for me to go after my last trip and was worried that the boys would go on ahead without him - apparently on the same school ski trip he was left behind and had to catch the tube alone. So, I told him I'd do my best and we joined in.
We were up at 5:30 on sat for the bus trip to Thredbo and arrived without much spectacle - the boys, eldest bro's gf, her brother and middle bro's friend all rushed off for their boards and The Hun and I straggled behind and got ourselves some skis. We went up the ski lift on the beginners hill (which was a big deal for me in itself) and then all of a sudden I was atop a hill, then on my ass, then struggling to get up, then out of my skis, then back up, then back in my skis, then stuck and terrified, then out of my skis and then walking down the hill with my gear in hand - The Hun had been twice before so he humoured me in skiing down at roughly my walking speed but not without constantly letting me know I shouldn't be a wuss and that it's easy and that I had to just give it a go and be confident. He didn't want to hang out alone while I had my super beginner 2 hour lessn, so I conned him into coming along - it is proddly the only time in his life he has decided in retrospect that he would have had a better time hanging around alone instead. Note to Thredbo: you shouldn't be charging people $55 per head to only be moving for 1/14th of the two hour lesson. I did however get a bit more confidence and got better at stopping and learnt a little bit about turning (the method that worked best for me is the babies version where you touch the opposite knee to the way you want to turn).
Everyone but middle bro, his friend and I (and The Huns gloves) went off to tackle an intermediate slope while we paid a stupid ridiculous amount for lunch. Note to Thredbo: You shouldn't guarantee that veggie sushi is vegan if it is full of mayo, especially if you've clarified with the people who make it. Then I minded the table while middle bro and his friend went back to the learner hill and everyone else eventually joined me. This is when I got to see the effects of youngest bro ramming into the back of The Hun while he is not wearing gloves - mangled skinned knuckles and fingers. I also got to hear about the snowboarding lesson everyone else took which was very beneficial to middle bro and his friend (who were snowboard super beginners as last time middle bro snowboarded his bindings where ruined and it just didn't work) and only partially beneficial to the others. Note to Thredbo: If someone slips and bangs the back of their head so hard that fluid rushes out of their nose, you shouldn't automatically dismiss it as snot - it's actually a symotom of a skull fracture and they need to go to the hospital within 48 hours. Luckily for youngest bro he wasn't experiencing blinding headaches, fainting spells, bags under his eyes and pooled blood behind his ears, but it was a very tense few hours after eldest bro spoke to the nursing line and then informed youngest bro he had to see a doctor within 4 hours. What's scarier is that youngest bro went out and got hammered after skiing, so if he woke up feeling not crash hot on Sunday, it would have been put down to being a hangover.
After lunch, everyone went off to tackle another run, while I hung around to look for middle bro and his friend, and decided to come up the baby hill and give it one last go. I got off the chairlift and managed to stay upright, then skied a little, stacked, walked a little, put my skis on again, skied a bit more, took my skis off and walked down the hill to where The Hun was waiting, indicating he knew where to look to find me (walking down the hill). He was however very proud to hear that I had skiied 1/3 of the baby hill, and all by myself in fact! That's how low the standards were set for me and sadly it did feel like I'd accomplished a whole lot.
We then rushed to return all our stuff and made it back to the bus just in time - only to realise youngest bro, middle bro and his friend had not yet made it to the bus. Cue youngest bro running to the bus to ask eldest bro's gf for her paper receipt from when she checked out her ski gear as Thredbo had misplaced their copy of the receipt. Note to Thredbo: It's 2007 - upgrade to an electronic system. Youngest bro and middle bro's friend made it back to the bus, with middle bro hopping behind. He gets onto the bus, sits across the aisle from me and states "I think I broke my ankle - I heard a snap and my foot is numb" - removal of his sock revealed a big, bruised lump, causing me to immediately exclaim "YOU HAVE TO GO TO HOSPITAL!!" tempered by The Hun's "They won't do anything but ice it, compress it and tell him to keep it up - it's probably a sprain". Once we made it off the bus, middle bro hopped and hobbled to the car and I didn't see him until I was back at my parent's house, ready to pick him up to take him to a farewell party.
Instead I was greeted with an angry dadsy, telling me to drop him off at casualty on the way to the farewell - seems that when middle bro told him he thought he'd broken his ankle, middle bro got his stubborn on about not wanting to go hospital and hypochondriac dadsy was telling him if it was broken and undiagnosed then something would leech and he would have a stroke. We took the poor fellow (who was actually quite upbeat, considering) to the McDonalds drive-thru (which was more of a park-then-reverse) and then to Ali Baba for a kebab before dropping him off at casualty. Alone.
I called him at 10:30 as I left the farewell and his phone was off, so I sent him a message telling him to message me if he wanted company or anything.
Long story short - middle bro got home at 3am with a half cast and a diagnosed fractured tibia. Note to Thredbo: If a fully grown male gets twisted in a stack coming off a chairlift and ends up with his leg twisted back and up - don't pretend nothing happened. Check he's okay rather than letting him snowboard down a hill with a fractured leg.
He's back to the hospital tomorrow to get proper xrays, see a specialist and get a proper cast. I will admit I've already bought texta's and am trying to think of what I can scribble on it.
All in all, not actually that bad a day. However dadsy has indicated that next time the boys want to go to the snow, he will just hire a cement mixer and chuck them in there instead.
This was taken nine years ago, on my last trip to the snow - a year 11 ski trip. It was also capturing the longest amount of time I was 'in' my skis once the lesson was over - I spent more happy time sliding down snow hills on my ass than I did cranky struggling around in my skis.Eldest bro was organising a day trip to the snow - he's been with his gf and the other bro's before, but was inviting The Hun and I along as well. The Hun was keen to go, however he knew it would proddly be a waste of money for me to go after my last trip and was worried that the boys would go on ahead without him - apparently on the same school ski trip he was left behind and had to catch the tube alone. So, I told him I'd do my best and we joined in.
We were up at 5:30 on sat for the bus trip to Thredbo and arrived without much spectacle - the boys, eldest bro's gf, her brother and middle bro's friend all rushed off for their boards and The Hun and I straggled behind and got ourselves some skis. We went up the ski lift on the beginners hill (which was a big deal for me in itself) and then all of a sudden I was atop a hill, then on my ass, then struggling to get up, then out of my skis, then back up, then back in my skis, then stuck and terrified, then out of my skis and then walking down the hill with my gear in hand - The Hun had been twice before so he humoured me in skiing down at roughly my walking speed but not without constantly letting me know I shouldn't be a wuss and that it's easy and that I had to just give it a go and be confident. He didn't want to hang out alone while I had my super beginner 2 hour lessn, so I conned him into coming along - it is proddly the only time in his life he has decided in retrospect that he would have had a better time hanging around alone instead. Note to Thredbo: you shouldn't be charging people $55 per head to only be moving for 1/14th of the two hour lesson. I did however get a bit more confidence and got better at stopping and learnt a little bit about turning (the method that worked best for me is the babies version where you touch the opposite knee to the way you want to turn).
Everyone but middle bro, his friend and I (and The Huns gloves) went off to tackle an intermediate slope while we paid a stupid ridiculous amount for lunch. Note to Thredbo: You shouldn't guarantee that veggie sushi is vegan if it is full of mayo, especially if you've clarified with the people who make it. Then I minded the table while middle bro and his friend went back to the learner hill and everyone else eventually joined me. This is when I got to see the effects of youngest bro ramming into the back of The Hun while he is not wearing gloves - mangled skinned knuckles and fingers. I also got to hear about the snowboarding lesson everyone else took which was very beneficial to middle bro and his friend (who were snowboard super beginners as last time middle bro snowboarded his bindings where ruined and it just didn't work) and only partially beneficial to the others. Note to Thredbo: If someone slips and bangs the back of their head so hard that fluid rushes out of their nose, you shouldn't automatically dismiss it as snot - it's actually a symotom of a skull fracture and they need to go to the hospital within 48 hours. Luckily for youngest bro he wasn't experiencing blinding headaches, fainting spells, bags under his eyes and pooled blood behind his ears, but it was a very tense few hours after eldest bro spoke to the nursing line and then informed youngest bro he had to see a doctor within 4 hours. What's scarier is that youngest bro went out and got hammered after skiing, so if he woke up feeling not crash hot on Sunday, it would have been put down to being a hangover.
After lunch, everyone went off to tackle another run, while I hung around to look for middle bro and his friend, and decided to come up the baby hill and give it one last go. I got off the chairlift and managed to stay upright, then skied a little, stacked, walked a little, put my skis on again, skied a bit more, took my skis off and walked down the hill to where The Hun was waiting, indicating he knew where to look to find me (walking down the hill). He was however very proud to hear that I had skiied 1/3 of the baby hill, and all by myself in fact! That's how low the standards were set for me and sadly it did feel like I'd accomplished a whole lot.
We then rushed to return all our stuff and made it back to the bus just in time - only to realise youngest bro, middle bro and his friend had not yet made it to the bus. Cue youngest bro running to the bus to ask eldest bro's gf for her paper receipt from when she checked out her ski gear as Thredbo had misplaced their copy of the receipt. Note to Thredbo: It's 2007 - upgrade to an electronic system. Youngest bro and middle bro's friend made it back to the bus, with middle bro hopping behind. He gets onto the bus, sits across the aisle from me and states "I think I broke my ankle - I heard a snap and my foot is numb" - removal of his sock revealed a big, bruised lump, causing me to immediately exclaim "YOU HAVE TO GO TO HOSPITAL!!" tempered by The Hun's "They won't do anything but ice it, compress it and tell him to keep it up - it's probably a sprain". Once we made it off the bus, middle bro hopped and hobbled to the car and I didn't see him until I was back at my parent's house, ready to pick him up to take him to a farewell party.
Instead I was greeted with an angry dadsy, telling me to drop him off at casualty on the way to the farewell - seems that when middle bro told him he thought he'd broken his ankle, middle bro got his stubborn on about not wanting to go hospital and hypochondriac dadsy was telling him if it was broken and undiagnosed then something would leech and he would have a stroke. We took the poor fellow (who was actually quite upbeat, considering) to the McDonalds drive-thru (which was more of a park-then-reverse) and then to Ali Baba for a kebab before dropping him off at casualty. Alone.
I called him at 10:30 as I left the farewell and his phone was off, so I sent him a message telling him to message me if he wanted company or anything.
Long story short - middle bro got home at 3am with a half cast and a diagnosed fractured tibia. Note to Thredbo: If a fully grown male gets twisted in a stack coming off a chairlift and ends up with his leg twisted back and up - don't pretend nothing happened. Check he's okay rather than letting him snowboard down a hill with a fractured leg.
He's back to the hospital tomorrow to get proper xrays, see a specialist and get a proper cast. I will admit I've already bought texta's and am trying to think of what I can scribble on it.
All in all, not actually that bad a day. However dadsy has indicated that next time the boys want to go to the snow, he will just hire a cement mixer and chuck them in there instead.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Oops, have they done it again?
Got an SMS from the gf of my old housemate (I can't remember the nickname I gave him) asking for my address as she had to send me something. They live around the corner from us, literally. They are so close that we can see their front yard from our courtyard - when you stand on their front lawn you can tell if we're still up because you can tell if the lights are still on. I believe they can hear The Huns persistent cough each morning as well as my wannabe warbling in the shower each night - my current song of choice is Regina Spektor's (of course) Music Box - imbedded below for your pleasure:
So, what's the bet? Is this another set of friends engaged? Any other ideas as to what it could be? Because my initial thoughts (before guessing at engagement) was that she was going to send a bomb to my house (I have no idea why, shush now).
So, what's the bet? Is this another set of friends engaged? Any other ideas as to what it could be? Because my initial thoughts (before guessing at engagement) was that she was going to send a bomb to my house (I have no idea why, shush now).
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The Regina Spektor-cle
This is how it works - You're young until you're not
You love until you don't - You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry - You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe - Until their dying breath
You love until you don't - You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry - You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe - Until their dying breath
Sound familiar?
Gf2 arrived at my place jus after 12 yesterday and we headed off to Sydney - arriving in Newtown at roughly 4pm. We wandered the street up and down for a while before settling into a dodgy Indian takeaway dinner at 5pm that lasted less than 15 minutes and is still having effects on my digestive system. MmmMMMMMmMMMMMM.
We then sat in someplace called the Blue Fig (I think!) which was next to the Enmore Theatre and very lovely - generously sized meals in a lovely atmosphere. Unfortunately I was too stuffed of oil to have room for anything, but we made a mental note to head there if we're ever up at the Enmore again.
Doors opened roughly 15 minutes late and, after buying a t-shirt, we headed upstairs - row K is at the front of the back section, meaning you have lots of leg room, however the toilets and bar are being renovated up there (leaving only four loo's for the ladies, all with short doors).
Only Son opened, and I think he was alright. He played two songs by himself, then pulled out an iPod to back him up for the rest of his 45 minute set... I don't know if I appreciate the fact that technology allowed him to do it with such good sound quality, or if I thought it was lazy.... I guess I can understand that maybe they couldn't afford to all come over, but still - it was a bit bizarre.
Anyways - Regina was on after a half hourish intermission.
She was absolutely fantastic - I am SO glad I got the opportunity to see her live. She is of just as good quality live as she is on CD - not one of those performers who suck when they're live. She plays the piano so well - it was just her and the piano the whole time, with the exception of the two two songs she did with the electric guitar and I was drawn in the entire time. It just seemed to be over so quickly but did come back for encore (luckily) after not too much clapping taking the show to just over 90 minutes.
She is so adorable - waify and tiny and politely sweetly spoken, saying thankyou for being here and how she has decided she loves this side of the planet. We were also somewhat suprised to see her tenderly walk on stage with a walking cane - I'm not sure what the story is there? If anyone with 1337 google skillz can help me out with the backstory it would be very much appreciated.
We got back in the car just before 11pm and made it back to my place just after 2:30am, when gf2 had to make the extra 30 minute drive to her place. The drive back from Sydney wasn't too bad - the best part about driving in the dark is that you trick yourself into thinking you're closer than you actually are - I was thinking I was almost at Goulbourn when I realised I was actually only at that high-wind part with the open cliffs. D'oh! There was also the part where I ran straight over a dead wombat in the middle of the road that I didn't see until it was close and I didn't want to swerve in the -4 cold for fear of sliding out (as dadsy always warns me) - plus when I try to slightly dodge something, I always hit it straight under my tire which would have been much worse. Unsurprisingly, I was quite short tempered this morning (due to the lack of sleep) and for the first time in my life I double barrel shotgunned and abused someone who cut me off. It was fulfilling and somewhat hilarious at the same time - highly recommended!
I had been quite down about the fact that I couldn't find anyone else to take the afternoon off to come up. No one. It may seem petty, but it was just like no one cared enough to take the afternoon off to help us out - friends, family, partners, workmates, whatevs. Even though gf2 was planning to come the whole time, she is proddly the only friend I have that fits into that whole 'a good friend bails you out of a jail, a great friend is in there with you laughing at it all' type thang. I was totally prepared to get a little star tattooed in the base of my left little toe to mark the occasion of a special friendship, but we only managed to find tonnes of dreadlock and rubber shops, no tattoo parlours. It was good that my social retardation didn't win out - there weren't any totally awkward silences like I was worried there would be - I freak in one on one situations, with only a few exceptions.
I did find out a few things about my concert going style and what pissed me off.
Continuing on from my anti-young people tirade of the weekend, there was a super annoying gaggle of 19/20 yo's p!ssing it up. Seems half of them had actually bought floor tickets and had then snuck up to hang out with their seated friends and the ushers actually let them bunch up into shared seats and sit in stairwells and empty seats. There were four boys sitting to my right and a REALLY annoying blonde thing who thought she was just it that was eyeing off our extra seat. I had a total scenario in my head where she'd sit in there and then I'd be all like 'you wanna sit there, gimme $100' and she'd be all like 'You don't own it' and I'd wave the ticket at her and then be all like 'get out or I'd get the bouncer, slut' and then she'd be all like 'how dare you' and she'd go to scratch at me like the feral she was and then I'd punch her in the face and my ring would leave an indent under her eye. Awesome.
Obviously, I don't really daytravel well.
So, my new rules are:
- Ushers - do your job and kick stragglers out.
- If you buy floor tickets, stay down with the plebs where you belong.
- If you want to drink through the show, buy the DVD and watch it from home. That way you can pause it when you continually get up to walk out to the bar/loo.
- Don't start an arm wave in the seating area because you are a tool and you're just giving us more reason to hate you.
- Don't call out to the artist while they're performing - particularly when it's just her quiet voice and piano - it's inappropriate, annoying and probably distracting.
- Yeah you're nineteen, but no, not everyone thinks your hot so stop doing that fake dance that you think makes it look like you don't care and are being silly but you actually think is cool and sexy.
- Pulling up your friends undies while she's leaning over talking to a guy does not make you a good friend.
- The quiet guy sitting in his own seat talking to the girls is going to be more succesful than the guy who acts so outrageous that half the audience think he's gay and the other half think he's just a tool who should get out.
- Boys should never have an overwhelming stank of hair product.
- If you spend half the song talking about how it's so beautiful and you love it then you obviously don't because you are not making the most of the opportunity to actually hear it performed live for you.
- You are not going to be discovered in the audience of a gig, nor is there a prize for knowing all the words. If you want to sing at a volume louder than a whisper, go sit in your car and sing to the CD.
That last point is the most important - at one point I actually stuck my finger in my left ear and turned the right side of my head to the stage so I could hear her rather than than the noisy woman sitting to my back left.
Do you think I might still be feeling a little tired?
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
If you don't get it, you're just not cool
Also - anyone know a sydney sider who wants to see Regina Spektor Wed night (tmr) at the Enmore theatre? We have a spare ticket and don't have anyone to come see it!!! EMAIL ME!!!
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Twenty One - So Not Fun
I went to a twenty first last night - the daughter of a family friend.
And it was, um, interesting.
Firstly - it was a dressup party, the theme of 1986 specifically. So mumsy, dadsy, eldest bro, middle bro, youngest bro, eldest bro's gf and I went as Devo. Unfortunately, I don't have any edited pics for you as I parked in the middle of the street and there were cars coming from both directions and I panicked and only remembered my grog and my whip and not the spiffy new camera that we are still to use since returning from out OS holiday before The Hun had to jump into the drivers seat to take the car back home. However, take my word that most of Saturday was spent loitering around Bunnings, stocking up on pot plants, red spay paint, elasticised cord and pieces of dowling from which to concoct the outfits which were then compiled in the shed and teamed with skivvies and sweatshirts from Lowes.
Tension was high as we lined up on the front stoop, ready to make our debut - evident when youngest bro's hat fell off and smashed into three seperate pieces and dadsy was super quick to admonish him for it. It was not all his fault however - there was a bit of an inaccuracy in our outfit...
These are what Devo Powerdome hats SHOULD look like.
And it was, um, interesting.
Firstly - it was a dressup party, the theme of 1986 specifically. So mumsy, dadsy, eldest bro, middle bro, youngest bro, eldest bro's gf and I went as Devo. Unfortunately, I don't have any edited pics for you as I parked in the middle of the street and there were cars coming from both directions and I panicked and only remembered my grog and my whip and not the spiffy new camera that we are still to use since returning from out OS holiday before The Hun had to jump into the drivers seat to take the car back home. However, take my word that most of Saturday was spent loitering around Bunnings, stocking up on pot plants, red spay paint, elasticised cord and pieces of dowling from which to concoct the outfits which were then compiled in the shed and teamed with skivvies and sweatshirts from Lowes.
Tension was high as we lined up on the front stoop, ready to make our debut - evident when youngest bro's hat fell off and smashed into three seperate pieces and dadsy was super quick to admonish him for it. It was not all his fault however - there was a bit of an inaccuracy in our outfit...
These are what Devo Powerdome hats SHOULD look like.Our hats were instead WAY too high - that's what you get when you secure two potplants together with a hot glue gun, stick a plastic drinking cup on top and spray them hot red.
The host didn't answer the door, so it was up to us to shuffle our way through the more than 100 strange people crammed into the house (bloody Canberra weather), ignoring the looks and not so quiet whispers of 'Who are they meant to be?' 'I don't get it' and 'Am I missing something?' to the relative safety of the very back corner of the backyard where we could huddle away from them. Did you know that apart from the few who made an effort - such as Hans Solo and the Ghostbusters - that dressing up as '1986' just means you dress like a slut? You just wear whatever the current fashion is and make it shorter and have a quick go with the crimper.
I felt sh!t - My hat broke during the rush to the backyard, so I was just the older person who was wearing a frumpy black Lowes skivvy and workpants. Then the bro's hung out together in the corner where there wasn't a seat for me, eldest bro's gf did a good job of talking to the others that were gathered around the fire and I searched for mumsy and dadsy on the inside. This is where I got to experience being asked my age for the first time since my birthday (I don't like saying '25'. I thought I'd be better with it now, but I guess not) and argued with a guy about veganism where my lack of knowledge shone through again ("Well, I worked on a dairy farm and they didn't seem to mind having their calves taken away" "We evolved this way" "We have canines for a reason"). Good times.
Anyways, seems the young are getting younger - these ppl were children. They were giving their speeches and were all 'We'll be friends when we're old and gray' and 'We've been through so much' and 'I love you so much, I'm sorry... I'm tearing up...'. Seriously now.
And sluttier. There was so much cleavage, so many skinny jeans and too much eyeliner. There was also an amazing front muffin top that was prominently displayed and I'm still not sure if it was intentional as part of the costume or not... I also came across a girl who dated my first ex after me (she is only turning 21 this year, he is 27 now) (also he was telling people they were dating and she always denied it and never talked to him again) (and he's now dating a 20 year old) and she is now into the ladies. She was also a baby-talker (I didn't stick around long enough to see if this was still the case) and dressed as one of about 6 Rainbow Brights - which basically meant dressing like a slut but with lots of different colours.
And nastier. Apparently one of the sluts walked up to where we were all sitting and announced 'Oh, this must be the corner for people who can't be f*cked to dress up'. Seriously. Had I actually heard her, I may have started a rumble. That is not taking into consideration the people who were calling the party girl a c*nt while she was up the front during the speeches, the people behind me talking through the slide show about how they hadn't seen one the photo people for years but that was ok because she got super fat, the people yelling out if there were any photos in the slide show that WEREN'T taken by the party girl herself, the people moaning that the party girl was a bitch for not including them in the slide show and the domestic in the bathroom I walked in on where one girl was threatening to leave because 'she didn't stay long at my 18th so why should I stay?!'.
I also woke up with a bit of a headache - I only had 5 drinks.
I wouldn't mind being 21 again, only because there is NO way I was like that at 21. Surely. And if I was by some twist of fate, I guess then that being 25 isn't SO bad... Has there always been such a big difference between 21 and 25? Have you changed a lot in that time?
The host didn't answer the door, so it was up to us to shuffle our way through the more than 100 strange people crammed into the house (bloody Canberra weather), ignoring the looks and not so quiet whispers of 'Who are they meant to be?' 'I don't get it' and 'Am I missing something?' to the relative safety of the very back corner of the backyard where we could huddle away from them. Did you know that apart from the few who made an effort - such as Hans Solo and the Ghostbusters - that dressing up as '1986' just means you dress like a slut? You just wear whatever the current fashion is and make it shorter and have a quick go with the crimper.
I felt sh!t - My hat broke during the rush to the backyard, so I was just the older person who was wearing a frumpy black Lowes skivvy and workpants. Then the bro's hung out together in the corner where there wasn't a seat for me, eldest bro's gf did a good job of talking to the others that were gathered around the fire and I searched for mumsy and dadsy on the inside. This is where I got to experience being asked my age for the first time since my birthday (I don't like saying '25'. I thought I'd be better with it now, but I guess not) and argued with a guy about veganism where my lack of knowledge shone through again ("Well, I worked on a dairy farm and they didn't seem to mind having their calves taken away" "We evolved this way" "We have canines for a reason"). Good times.
Anyways, seems the young are getting younger - these ppl were children. They were giving their speeches and were all 'We'll be friends when we're old and gray' and 'We've been through so much' and 'I love you so much, I'm sorry... I'm tearing up...'. Seriously now.
And sluttier. There was so much cleavage, so many skinny jeans and too much eyeliner. There was also an amazing front muffin top that was prominently displayed and I'm still not sure if it was intentional as part of the costume or not... I also came across a girl who dated my first ex after me (she is only turning 21 this year, he is 27 now) (also he was telling people they were dating and she always denied it and never talked to him again) (and he's now dating a 20 year old) and she is now into the ladies. She was also a baby-talker (I didn't stick around long enough to see if this was still the case) and dressed as one of about 6 Rainbow Brights - which basically meant dressing like a slut but with lots of different colours.
And nastier. Apparently one of the sluts walked up to where we were all sitting and announced 'Oh, this must be the corner for people who can't be f*cked to dress up'. Seriously. Had I actually heard her, I may have started a rumble. That is not taking into consideration the people who were calling the party girl a c*nt while she was up the front during the speeches, the people behind me talking through the slide show about how they hadn't seen one the photo people for years but that was ok because she got super fat, the people yelling out if there were any photos in the slide show that WEREN'T taken by the party girl herself, the people moaning that the party girl was a bitch for not including them in the slide show and the domestic in the bathroom I walked in on where one girl was threatening to leave because 'she didn't stay long at my 18th so why should I stay?!'.
I also woke up with a bit of a headache - I only had 5 drinks.
I wouldn't mind being 21 again, only because there is NO way I was like that at 21. Surely. And if I was by some twist of fate, I guess then that being 25 isn't SO bad... Has there always been such a big difference between 21 and 25? Have you changed a lot in that time?
Saturday, July 07, 2007
My week in a song
Please note, it's not as bad as it sounds.
But it's interesting to work through having known a song for many years, rediscovering it and finding meaning, then finding entirely new meaning within the same week. And, not knowing if you like it more or like it less because of it.
Must I Paint You A Picture - Billy Bragg.
It's bad timing and me
We find a lot of things out this way
And there's you
A little black cloud in a dress
The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again
If this is rain let it fall on me and drown me
If these are tears let them fall
Chorus:
Must I paint you a picture
About the way that I feel
You know my love for you is strong, girl
You know my love for you is real
It took a short walk and a talk
To change the rules of engagement
While you searched frantically for reverse and them claiming
That virtue never tested is no virtue at all
And so I lost my ignorance
And now the bells across the river chime out your name
I look across to them again
All your friends said come down
It will never fly
And on that imperfect day
We threw it all away
Crisis after crisis, with such intensity
This would never happen if we lived by the sea
Most important decisions in life
Are made between two people in bed
I found that out at my expense
And when I see you
You just turn around and walk away like we never met
Oh we used to be so brave
I dreamt the world stopped turning as we climbed the hill
I dreamt impossible dreams that we were lovers still
But it's interesting to work through having known a song for many years, rediscovering it and finding meaning, then finding entirely new meaning within the same week. And, not knowing if you like it more or like it less because of it.
Must I Paint You A Picture - Billy Bragg.
It's bad timing and me
We find a lot of things out this way
And there's you
A little black cloud in a dress
The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again
If this is rain let it fall on me and drown me
If these are tears let them fall
Chorus:
Must I paint you a picture
About the way that I feel
You know my love for you is strong, girl
You know my love for you is real
It took a short walk and a talk
To change the rules of engagement
While you searched frantically for reverse and them claiming
That virtue never tested is no virtue at all
And so I lost my ignorance
And now the bells across the river chime out your name
I look across to them again
All your friends said come down
It will never fly
And on that imperfect day
We threw it all away
Crisis after crisis, with such intensity
This would never happen if we lived by the sea
Most important decisions in life
Are made between two people in bed
I found that out at my expense
And when I see you
You just turn around and walk away like we never met
Oh we used to be so brave
I dreamt the world stopped turning as we climbed the hill
I dreamt impossible dreams that we were lovers still
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Dot Points for a drinky Tuesday
Been a while since I've thrown some dots your way, eh?
- The Girl engagement thing is going on the downlow for a lil bit. We sat down over a bag of kettles, two cruisers and a bake-at-home turkish loaf and decided that it would be best to be a bit shush. Seems there was a fairly long chat with the boy in question about it, and she doesn't want to jump to conclusions/make judgements/OD on valium until it's a bit clearer in person. She does have the entire conversation saved, so it may make a comeback at some stage (because I know you're nosy because you're here, aren't you?!).
- I didn't die after kickboxing, though haven't been to the gym since and DO plan to go again this week. I felt VERY out of shape, plus it didn't help that an ex student was there just watching (she taught the class before and decided to come back in halfway through and just SIT there for some godforsaken reason) AND the carb loading I'm doing (see above point), but I'm determined at some stage to get fitter (unless I fall into a 'woe is me' stage that I feel I'm teetering on).
- My tapey face is doing well - it's a lil scabby and it wasn't AWESOME getting the tiny tight stitches pulled out (though infinitely better than having them put in) and I'm still taped up - but the fact that I think my scab looks 'cute' where my lip mole Mole MOLE used to be is a good indicator of my doing the right thing.
- It is also itchy as all heck - I think that's also a good sign, but I just want to get in there and dig around in it. I'm refraining, but considering tricking The Hun into biting my nose (he almost bit my nose hole the other day) just to get some kind of itch in there.
- Still no word on that job I applied for (thanks for all your support, team) so I must say I am MOST unimpressed with a company that doesn't get back to applicants even if they are totally underqualified and just fooling themselves. I should add, however, that my only slightly controlled outburst after a meeting about the conditions surrounding the future dismemberment of my team ("Well, there's definitely more incentive for me to leave than stay now!") resulted in me getting approved for a pay rise... two jumps in just over a month adding up to more than $8000 annual increase? That eases the pain somewhat...
- I used to be a really good speller in school, but I cannot thank the automatic spellchecker ENOUGH for automatically pointing out each time I spell 'definitely' wrong ("definately"). Hooray for technology.
- Did I tell you our landlord never showed? Or called? Still? I have no qualms about telling EVERYONE that Independent Property Group is the WORST real estate agency. EVER.
- As more than one of you may be aware, I am totally obsessed with Facebook. So again - if you're out there and want to be my bud, send me an email? If you're not stalker material I'll add you to my RL account... if you are? Don't be a hater for not being added.
- I almost managed to book Dadsy in for a tattoo on the weekend. He's turning the big 5-0 this year and I suggested we buy him a tattoo - however because he is his daughters father he would like it sooner rather than later, and if we paid for it he'd still want something more for his actual b'day (not until November). The only drawback to getting it done on the w/end was that he wants youngest bro to be there too so the tat man writes the same thing in the same way in the same place. I think I'm more excited than him about it... on the one hand I have the feeling he'll try and pike, on the other hand I really hope he doesn't because I think it would be awesome for each person in our family to have the same tattoo.
- That unit I thought I royally screwed the exam for? I came out of the course with a credit! That course I was sitting on more than 90% for? I came out with only a pass!!! Seems I royally f*cked that exam up the ass (apologies for the graphic description, team). I went into the lecturer and saw it with my own eyes - I scored only 52% and was pretty much berated for providing shallow answers with absolutely NO depth in TERRIBLE handwriting! I was in there for over a half hour going over it all with him, and a phone call today confirmed that he's decided to bump it to a credit. Which I should be happy with on many levels (at least I passed, at least I got a credit, at least he didn't remark it to a fail, at least I don't have to worry about the poor quality of the unit again) I'm still disappointed that I didn't get what was proddly my only chance at getting a HD AND it's the first time since I've been back at uni that I haven't come out of a semester with a credit and a distinction.
- I am getting worried about my old dog at home. He's been around since I was in year 4 and is totally skin, bones and wobbles now. His feet slip on the cork tiling, he leans up against anything he can, and all the stories from home about him are only sad... like how he fell in the fish pond and nearly drowned the other week - his eyes are like 90% cataracts, he was put outside because he was peeing on the family room floor right in front of Dadsy and the outside lights weren't on and he couldn't work out where he was. Plus he was wearing his heavy winter jacket because he has no fat to keep him warm, which would have weighed him down (and his back legs hardly work as it is) and he shook for 3 hours after they found him soaked and covered in leaves by the back door, even after they took half an hour to hairdry him (he weighs less than 4 kilos now). Or the stories are funny but sad, like how the other week it looked like he was having a fit or something because he was leaning up against the unit and coudln't stand up properly and looked stressed so mumsy picked him up to calm him down, but he was actually peeing in the house. Yeah - lot of peeing stories, but all he does now is sleep and pee. Poor old dog.
- I am looking forward to my potential Qld trip in November (I'm almost 100% sure I'll get my nose done if I can get a teeny tiny stud, I haven't had ANYONE in RL say it would be a good diea) and I am also looking forward to a potential Melbourne trip in August. Hooray for minibreaks!
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