Pun worth an audience larger than one

Enny: Twice in two days I've got a stinging main in my mole scar... kinda like Harry Potter!

The Hun: Oh no! Mole-demort!

*tiddy-boom*

Melbourne Weekend Recap

Yet another fantastic weekend in Melbourne - Break it down, homes!

Friday: Got up at 7ish and left at about 8ish for the long drive to Melbourne:

• The Hun napped for an hour then complained he was uncomfortable, so he fashioned a jacket into a pillow and slept for another hour. After that he woke up, complained he was no longer tired and sent the jacked to the back seat before spending an hour with his neck and head jerking annoyingly from side to side as he nodded in and out of sleep for an another hour. I was thiiiiiis close to pushing his head into the window - not in a malicious way, more in an 'I could never keep that rubbish up for that long so quit it before I push it through the window in a malicious way'. He is yet to see the humour with which I lovingly later regaled him the story.

• Dadsy's TomTom does not know of the new road near Albury, so we spent 15 minutes listening to him tell us to "Turn right in 80 metres - Turn right in 45 metres - Turn right - Do a U Turn as soon as you can - Turn right in 80 metres -Turn right in 45 metres - Turn right - Do a U Turn as soon as you can". He trusted us when we turned up in the right place further on.

• There are no Caltex in Wangaratta, although the TomTom might tell you there are two. Do not fall for this as you will end up driving chaotically through the town swearing and gesturing at the windscreen and end up paying for petrol at the same servo that holds the Subway where you had bland salad for lunch. I KNEW I should have organised adiditional petrol cards before we left.

• The Wangaratta Subway-Servo DOES sell diet Solo which is a godsend and not available at any other servo's that I stopped at either way.

• I think I have lost my license - it seems that "Road Safety Camera" is Victoria speak for "Speed Camera" and not code for some kind of road management system. This is further indicated by the disbelief you will see on the faces of Victorians as you relay your story to them, basing your belief of the fact that ACT and NSW fixed cameras give you three warning signs before taking your picture. I believe I got snapped by one in the country, all five on the way into the city, one in the country on the way out and perhaps one near the dinosaur museum in Canberra.

• The Sebel is still by far the best place to stay in Melbourne - I cannot recomend it enough. Our room had a separate bedroomy bit and Fox channels and is in the middle of the city. My entertainment book discount got us the room for $202 per night, including buffet breakfast for two - you will lurve it.

• We made it into Chinatown for dinner, but Spicy Fish (The Cousins recommendation) was full so we had dinner at a place across and down a bit. We went upstairs where it was lovely and cosy (sharing our 6 person table with another couple) and had tofu with veggies and some amazing dish made of green spinach and something else? I also had one of The Hun's veg*n curry puffs (naughty dieter).

• We trammed it to the uni to see the revue but arrived a bit late - I'd written the show started at 8:30, but it started at 8! Adam and Cara met up with us outside and we luckilly snagged four seats together at the back and settled in to enjoy the show, which I think was actually the funniest one we've seen yet - perhaps I'm getting more used to the people involved and the way it all works?! The highlight was The Cousin managing to get the word 'snood' into one of the jokes at which I squealed like I'd been bitten - I told her I'd call out if I heard it, but it wasn't the kind of noise I was hoping for - unfortunately I couldn't take it back! I also had The Hun a bit worried, leaning over to ask if I was ok. There were some really hilarious bits in there - one in particular where I laughed overly louder than anyone else in the theatre, but I can't for the LIFE of me remember what it was!
  

• Catching up with Adam again was great and it was fantastic to meet Cara - she is so funny! We headed out to the Queensberry expecting a bit of a quiet night - Erica and Mars messaged to pike during the show, and Rosanna was to meet up with us there. Rosanna arrived just after we got our first drinks and left just after we finished our second (we left not long after that as Cara had another big day on the Saturday). It was good to put more of a personality to a face, particularly as the beer spilt all over the table and her lovely skirt (which I'm sure they'll be able to save) - although it was brief it was good to meet her and perhaps as good for her to meet us! Very exciting.

Saturday: Slept in a bit and then:

• Wandered to Haighs to pick up my Melbourne musthaves - Dark Mint Chocolate Frogs and Dark Chocolate covered raisins. I find it so heartbreakingly beautiful that their dark chocolate is vegan and doesn't taste like pure cocoa! Rosanna has kindly offered to mail me down some and I cannot wait - The Hun has already started into my frogs and I'm planning to hide them from myself until November.

• I lead The Hun down to Spencer St to the brand new DFO (I used my wiley feminine charms to get him down there) where I bought a lovely blue, aqua and pink Fila zip jumper for $35 from $70. There were a few jibes about the amount of sportswear I own in comparison to the amount of sports I actually DO, but I love my jumper - add a zipper and a sparkly detail near the pocket and I will buy Buy BUY!

• The Cousin picked us up from the hotel to take us to Collingwood where I witnessed my first domestic abuse encounter - a woman beat her partner(?) around the head, knocking his sunglasses off as she yelled "I didn't look at him!" - by the time we were out of the car they'd dissapeared, but he never moved to strike her (though you gotta wonder...).

• We had lunch at Soul Food Cafe and Oh. My. God. I wanted EVERYTHING on the menu but was a good girl and had the asian greens salad. That came with a delicious piece of bread I was not going to share with anyone. And of course I HAD to try the vegan chocolate cake - do you know how long it's been since I've had chocolate cake?! It was totally divine, served with warmed vegan custard. Not particularly suitable for Tony Ferguson, but I do not regret it one bit.

• We trammed towards the Telstra Dome and stalked around the Docklands looking for the Human Body Exhibition which we just could not find. I think we did burn off that cake though.

• That night I took The Hun out to the AFL - Swans vs Collingwood! We'd ummed and ahhed about going to this, figuring it'd be too expensive and soldout - that just demonstrated our Canberraness. It cost less than $40 to get in and it was really fantastic! I picked up the rules better than I thought I would - even with 3 Skyy vodka's and sitting 8 rows from the very very very back. It was a bit disheartening to find that you couldn't even get a salad sandwhich, so I had a packet of Thins for dinner - after my 1kg loss last week, this week may be an interesting one.
  

Sunday: The long drive home:

• We left at about 10:30 and arrived home just before 7:30pm. The only thing of note being the potential Canberra speeding ticket I may have picked up on some unfamiliar road.

I think what suprised me most this time was how much I fell in love with the city. It must have been like my fifth trip down there, but this was the first time I was looking at it practically, looking at it like "I want to live here". Now, I have to convince The Hun to start applying for work there...

Next year is The Cousin's last performance - can't wait till I'm down south again!

Blog Meet - How Sweet!

If it's not enough that I'm off to Melbourne tmr to meet up with the amusing Adam, radiant Rosanna, entertaining Erica and marvelous Mars, I'm also talking plans to meet up with TokenWoman in Canberra and Deb in Canberra or Sydney. Also, that work training I was meant to be running seems to be back on the agenda for the end of this year/start of next year.

And did I not mention there's another Canberra blogmeet in the works?!

Mr Aurelius is new/back on the Canberra scene and would love a bit of a shindig - details as follows:

Date: Friday 31 August
Time: 7pm
Location: Wig & Pen

Do hope to see you there, Canberra folk!

Sorry about the dead air

I was just having a bit of a busy bit.

Here's my apology in the form of dot points:

• I lost 2.8kg last week!

• The Hun is watching "The last king of of Scotland" - have you seen it? It's quite difficult to watch as the guy makes all these stupid mistakes.

• I went to cardio-boxing class tonight and didn't think I was going to die! The Hun reckons it's partly mental, but I'm not entirely convinced.

• We took dadsy in to get a tattoo for his 50th birthday - the same as my second tattoo and the same as youngest bro's tattoo. The tat guy turned up 28 minutes after the appointment time, had he been 2 minutes later we were about to walk and I would have lost by $50 deposit (dadsy is a stickler for customer service). He took like 6 attempts to get the transfer on right and I thought he was going to have some sort of meth-fit, but it all turned out good in the end. Dadsy's font is actually larger than youngest bro's, but it cost the same - so I guess we got a good deal out of it. That said, my tattoo artist left there to go to Noosa so I don't think I'll go back to that same place again. And for those of you who would like another view on how tattoo's feel, whilst I liken it to an Emjoi, dadsy likened it to a rat gnawing off his leg.

• Speaking of tattoos where I ever to finally get my purple star tattoo below my little toe, these would be the perfect shoes to show it off:

(You can buy them from here if you'd like to buy them for me!)

• I had a bit of a freakout about uni on Sunday night - a result of procrastinating just that biiiiit too much on an assessment piece. I am learning to learn and not freak out too much, but I am just. so. over. study.

• Something else I'm a big fan of? The Butler Bag! I told mumsy about it, because I knew it was the type of thing she'd be right into. I think I would quite like one, but they aren't synthetic (that I can see) and I'm unsure reather I'm ready to give up my Guess fetish... mumsy however is waiting for the premium leather version *groan*. Here's a pic for those who can't be bothered to click through:

• I went to a baby shower on Sunday and didn't get that clucky! It was cute to see Mrs Batman with her son, and good to see the mum-to-be looking so radiant (she is normally very, very thin) but I had no urge to go make a sprog.
  

• I bought a new cookbook:

• Now - don't roll your eyes! It actually makes the interesting point that many people recoil at the mention of tofu, and that a large of that is due to it not having been cooked for them as they grew up. This book is about way to incorporate tofu into your diet without having to get all weird and hippyish. I must admit, as soon as this diet is over I am all over the spanakopita and spinach-in-hollowed-bread dip. MMMMM.

• I don't think I have anything else for you at this stage - shower and bedtime for me!

Melbourne wahey!

I best be getting my organising hat on, eh?

Next Friday The Hun and I are driving down to Melbourne. That night we will take in a show of the comedy persuasion with Mr Adam and Ms ARC, and we will then be hoping to p!ss it up.

Anyone else interested?

(Please note, I'm looking at you Erica & Ben, you Rosanna and you miss Mars).

Interested? Send me an email!

EnnyPen (at) gmail (dot) com

We'll then hafta do some sorta dialogue thing with the planning and whatevs.

PS - Feeling guh-REAT!

PPS - My celery and tomatoes smell like toast.

PPPS - Mmmmm toast ;wah;

Diet blogging - more info

It appears TokenWoman and I have more in common than both just being absolutely fabulous - we're both doing the Tony Ferguson diet.

The basics are that you have a meal replacement shake for breakfast and lunch, a piece of low GI fruit for morning tea and afternoon tea, a certain amount of protein at dinner, at least 2 litres of water a day and as much as of the selected salads and veggies as you like . There are also certain bonuses you are allowed, such as a certain number of particular sweets, as much diet jelly as you like (no go for the vegan) and the ability to swap a piece of fruit for a portion of one of their chocolate bars or a glass of dry white wine. And no caffeine.

First things first - the reason for my lack of specifics in the last post. My old boss has been doing this for a few months and dropped almost 15 kilos - we both saw it advertised around Chirstmas time but it was a no go for me, being dairy based shakes. Earlier this year she advised that they were brining out soy shakes and after many weeks of nagging them and emailing them and dropping into the storefronts, I was finally able to go down and register with dadsy for my soy shakes. They ran us through the program (paying specific attention to what I could and couldn't eat as a vegan) and sent us on our way.

It wasn't until I got home that, after seeing them advertised as 'low lactose' shakes, I saw that the shake contained milk protein. I was gutted. And you can imagine what type of state I was in - ready to finally start (being urged on by seeing I am borderline overweight and that my 'perimeter' is a number that is higher than the number that indicates increased health risks and potential diabetes) and not being able to start.

Finally, I got more answers via email and the forum (which is a hellmaze absolutely COVERED in flashing jpgs, half-nekkid pics, charts and figures) that the product is produced on the same equipment as the non-soy shakes (machinery washed in between) so the product is the same as those 'may contain traces of dairy' products. Which I am fine with. Any vegan police wanna take it up with me, go find something better to do with your time.

So anyway, I'm doing okay. Both of my choices of shake flavor are good (not totally awesome, but good) and I'm enjoying my allocated sweets.

I can't say I'm enjoying the fibre powder because something about psylium husks sets my gag reflex to high - the only way I'm managing it is by using less water in my lunch shake and eating it like a cold custard. Which, again, isn't totally awesome (I always HATED custard!) but at least it's better than 'drinking' it. I should point out that the fibre isn't a necessary part of the diet, but I'm not a very, erm, 'regular' lass, so I figure I should take all the help I can get. There's also chromium tablets for 'taking the edge off' which I have one a day of but fear getting addicted to because it has a hardcore name and anything that 'takes the edge off' sounds totally addictive.

I haven't felt too much an urge for potato chips - I'm begining to realise they're not an 'everyday' food (as stupid as that sounds). However, the less we linger on thinking about hot turkish bread coated in nuttelex, the better.

I am enjoying eating so many fruits and veggies - more in the last 3 days than what I've had in the last 3 months, I'm sure. And yes, I realise that that is a really bad thing, but I'm choosing to look forward and look at it as a really good thing. According to The Hun, the stirfry I knocked up the other night was one of the best meals I've ever cooked - I guess I've tortured him enough with my dodgy excuses for dinners and it's about time he got to eat healthy again (he bulks his meals up with rice and bread. And cornetto's!).

So whilst I have my concerns about maintaining weightloss at the end of this (as with every diet), I do think that this is a step in the right direction - learning to appreciate a good nutritious meal, rather than craving the one that is high fat and high carb because 'I deserve it'. What I deserve is to reward my body by keeping it in good shape.

However - the detox? Is killing me. Caffeine must have me good and firm because I spend a lot of time feeling queasy, feeling fatigued, hot flushy and a constant headache (this proddly helps explain my lack of wanting chips or redeye - I just couldn't stomach it!). I left uni early yesterday for a half hour nap and left work at 3:30 today for a 2 hour sleep, just to try to be rid of this headache - I've had 6 nurofen today, of which 2 were migraine strength - it's still here.

Hopefully I'm in ketosis soon and my body stops being such a b!tch about it all.

First weigh in on Saturday *fingers crossed*

I promise to come up with something not diet related before then! Stick with me, buddies!

Diet blogging

The time has come again for me to realise I've been living too much of the misery chip life and need to get my sh!t together.

As of 8 minutes ago, I've started a diet with dadsy. I'm right on the borderline of healthy and overweight, and I plan to lose 12 kilos. Hooray.

I've proddly put on a bit more than 5kg since we came back from OS, and at that stage I was 5kg or so heavier than what I wanted to be. I decided I would start a diet as soon as I found one that would work for me, and I kinda did. I can't say it's entirely what I want, but I'm hoping to work with the people to get it to exactly what I want. I also don't want to go into it too much here, but you'll get gists because I have a hard time keeping these things to myself.

I want to succeed.

I want to be in control.

I want to be happy to move, happy with how I look and happy with how I feel.

I want to not centre my thoughts on the next opportunity I'll have to eat 'bad' fod.

I want to not go to bed feeling queasy, spend a day feeling queasy and stop snacking on bad things just because I can.

I want to not feel guilt about what I'm eating, what I will eat and I what I have eating.

I want to stop pointing out my flaws for everyone for some sort of pennance - it doesn't make me feel better, it only makes me feel worse.

So, here's to weightloss - for seeing that I have now crossed that line I've been building up to over the last few weeks where I've sugar, fat and carb loaded as much as I could because I knew this time was coming.

Here's to feeling sexy for summer, ladies and gents!

My Pa's car

I never remember him driving it, but the Kingswood always sat in the second garage, under the awning on which my fathers childhood scooter hung. The scooter is now in my parents garage, after one of my brothers thoughtfully retrieved and restored it as a Christmas gift. Bright blue scooter with yellow rims, the handles bars a modern gooey substance but the only ones they could find that that had the same rainbow streamers as his childhood.

The first garage contained rusty barrels, almost as tall as we were, one filled with wheat and the other with chook pellets. Sometimes when we were all sent out the back to play, we'd stick our arms into the barrel of wheat, deep up to our shoulders. I still remember the feeling of the wheat between my fingers, the way it would fall from your hands as you raised them up and the way we would try to see how much we could keep balanced on our arms.

When we weren't in the first shed we would be by the large tree through the gate. Fred the cockatoo lived there for as long as he remembered, after being taken from the nest out the front of the printing shop where my father worked as an apprentice. Fred had a voice for children, imitating their laugh and asking their name, and an adults voice - used for chiding the dog in an imitation of my Pa. "Get out of here you mongrel". Fred passed a few years ago, after eating a thistle that had been lovingly handpicked for him, my aunt unaware it had been sprayed with weedkill.

Next to Fred's tree was a bush with bright pink flowers which we were warned to not even touch the leaves of. The whole tree was poisonous and dangerous - the kennel of my dads puppy Timmy lay abandoned underneath. I'm unsure whether Timmy died from eating the plant or if I just have the two memories confused, but I know neither he nor my father were very old at the time.

I don't remember my Pa ever driving the car, but I'm told he had an accident and was no longer allowed to drive. It was something my mother once mentioned in a hushed voice - concern for my Pa, but concern for those who could have otherwise been injured. At some point in time the car transitioned to being driven by another aunt who would look after us after school. She would eat chocolate and then get a migraine and chide us to be quiet, but we never would. We would draw anti-smoking propaganda signs and stick them on the glass door and play her songs on the keyboard that we thought she would like. I used to play The Rose for her and sing so quietly under my breath.

I remember sitting in the car while my aunt drove, but I can't remember where we would have been going. One time we went to the nearby shopping centre and I saw a dress for $4 that I wanted but couldn't afford. Eventually I wore her down and she took me back down there and gave me the money I was short - I only wore the dress once, for a Santa photo my mother made us get when I was in year eight. I often thought that way, that I could get my own way if I just tried hard enough. My parents had a friend who owned a Persian rug store who, whilst my parents were paying for two handpulled rugs, called me back into the shop and asked me which was my favourite of two small tugs - he had seen me admiring them and thought I should have one. The free gift rug sits on the floor of my study and I wonder if he or my parents really knew that I wanted it, that I was looking at it so intently because I wanted him to give it to me for free.

The seats of the car had giant coils that you could feel through your legs, causing you to bounce around jovially, even over the smallest of bumps. You would stick to the seats in summer until you peeled your legs off, unclacking the seatbelts that had no tension left in the cloth, but a summer of heat in the shiny metal clips.

My aunt passed the car down to her son, who sold it for his own gain. I don't remember seeing any evidence of it, but I remember hearing how much this upset my Pa. I remember thinking I would never have done that to him.

I wonder where his car is now.

You're my idol!

Breaking it down, raspberry cruiser style!

• Idol is back! So excited - although I struggle with the first few weeks - I don't like the way they focus on 'bad' people, I hate seeing them made fun of - it's just so painful. Still, I try to soldier through, because you often get to see the future finalists and can pick them early on. (and yes, I tend to get a bit too involved in it all, but I'm allowed the occassional vice (redeye, cruisers, misery chips, bad reality television)). It's also great because the finale tends to coincide with the warmer weather that I am hanging out all over the place for.

• I went to see The Simpsons movie today! How was it? Couldn't tell you! Dadsy and I rocked up at about 2 for the 2:15 show, but the line was out the door, so we decided we try again for the 3:15 and pop out to pick up some wine and shaving cream (hopefully he's not intending to use both at the same time). We got to the counter 30 minutes early, only to find out that the projecter blew up in the 1:15 session (the lines were people queing for the 2:15 session as well as the 1:15 people getting refunds) so I bought my popcorn and drink pack, dadsy bought some maltesers for mumsy who was stuck at home doing an essay and I went back to the gowrie house to watch some Monty Python! Was still a good day, but I'm also hanging out all over the place to see it.

• The Hun's good friend whose wedding spoiled my Qld trip plans was down at the end of last week (the couple live in Sydney) and all the groomsmen went out to help choose a suit for the groom-to-be. The issue that threw a spanner into the works was that the bride-to-be casually mentioned to the groom-to-be that he should look at morning suits (ie "you best be getting your sweet self a morning suit for our big day") and the crazy sales man at the shop only had one "morning suit" - it was a black jacket teamed with grey pants that had hand drawn looking black stripes on them. Not only that - the "morning suit" jacket was actually a formal tails jacket with the cropped front and the salesman kept insisting that it was in fact a morning suit and should only be worn after 5pm. The wedding is at 4:30pm and a morning suit should only be worn in the MORNING, hence the name. So now the groom may be hiring a fugly formal tails suit rather than a spiffy morning suit.

• I am on the look out for sexicute shoes to wear to the upcoming weddings - there is the one mentioned above as well as one the week before. My action plan is to buy one dress but two pairs of shoes with two sets of accessories. As a result, I am obsessively stalking this site and this site and this site - mainly to maintain my sense of what is cute.

• We saw 'Walk the Line' last night after having it around the house for while - I'm glad we did finally get to see it, but was very upset that they didn't get Jonathon Rhys Meyers to play young Elvis for the brief appearances. He is the only notactuallyElvis Elvis for me. See:

More importantly, you should see this:

• I'm a bit torn about what to do with my hair - like obviously I should do SOMETHING with it, as the second to last time it was touched by a professional was the start of March (the last time was when it was styled for Magf's wedding) and my blondeish roots are all growing out. Whilst we were watching the movie last night, there was a moment where I was thunderbolted by how perfect Reese's hair looked, so I think I'm going to grow it a bit longer with a bit of layering. I will be making an appointment to get a trim, my foils touched up (hopefully caramel as apposed to the yellow-white blonde they seem to be fond of putting on my head) and a funkyish sideswept fringe - perhaps a bright red streak or two (oh yeah - I am STILL about about the teenage rebellion). Mebbe next weekend?

• Did you know that Andrew G is a vegan? I didn't.

• Karma is an 'interesting' thing (I'm hesitant to say awesome because then it will bite me back in the ass) - my stupid ex has been dealing with one of dadsy's best friends on a business venture after I introduced them shortly before our breakup (I didn't find this out until some time in the last 12 months or so). Seems that the stoopid ex managed to convince dadsy's friend to sell him a large share of the business but then had to go O/S for his 'official' job leaving his half brother in charge of the business - the half brother hasn't done any of the stuff he was supposed to. Now dadsy's friend's reputation is being dragged down by it and he is NOT someone you want to mess with... interesting.

• I'm joining the Harry Potter craze - thus far I have read the first two paragraphs of the first book. I foresee a long road ahead.
  

• Time to go - my samosas are done!
  

LG15 Season Finale!

ZOMG - did you guys catch it?

If you don't follow it - this may not be all that interesting.

If you do follow it - make sure you watch it and come back and let me know what you thought!

I've seen all of the videos, but as of late have been a bit meh about it all. Sarah was really giving me the sh!ts. I didn't like the all-white outfit videos. Spencer was like Garth from Wayne's World but just annoying.

My thoughts on the finale: Nailbiting amazing. Although, I tarded it all up and accidentally watched the 12th one first and thought they were being arty and showing the end before the beginning. I'm also glad I didn't check the site before all 12 were up or I would have gone MENTAL.

I also discovered that, much like when reading a book, I have a habit of missing important plot links. Like that the Hymn of One and The Order were different? That the ceremony wasn't just held out in a field and actually meant being transferred to a hospital and just dying? How is that religion?

Would love to hear thoughts - Am off to check out the other show they're running now (Kate someone?!) and lurk the forums for answers.

I like to practice my 'Next Top Model' walk any time I'm walking and have my iPod on...

... do you?

Oh hai!

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)

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.)

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?

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....

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...!)

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 2007

Entries 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

(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.

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).

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

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?