Sunday, December 26, 2010


So another Christmas has been and gone. As mentioned earlier, it was my first as an atheist, and I found myself sort of adrift (in thought) more than once.
Before the day even started, I was a little irate, because I hate those group texts that people send out. They annoy the piss out of me. It doesn't show you care! It shows that you are friggin lazy and want it to appear that you care cos you send everyone in your phone a generic text. If you actually want to wish someone a merry Christmas, take the time to send them a personal one. I do this – I put their name in it and some information that shows that it is meant for them and only them, so that they know I REALLY DO WISH THEM A MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS. Don't send me a group text if we haven't even spoken for over a year or since the last time u sent out a generic text with a stupid bullshit poem about New Year's. I got a text Christmas morning from a friend interstate. It went something like this:

Her: Have a merry Christmas and don't forget the reason for the season!

Me: aren't you a Mormon?

Her: yeah lol

Me: how odd that a Mormon sends a merry Christmas message to an atheist lesbian.

Another mate sent this:

Him: have a merry Christmas, get drunk but be safe!

Me: Don't tell me what to do. YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME

After I recovered from my rage, we got to business. The day was planned out in advance – we went to Kat's family for brunch and mine for a late lunch. It was the first time I had met Kat's Uncle, Aunty and their two kids (how very nuclear), with whom I got along famously from the start because I feigned interest in their game boys and zuzu pets. Ok, the interest in the game boy was only partly feigned. The zuzu pet I wanted to euthanize. Fortunately that only involves removal of batteries, but I couldn't get a moment alone.
Something interesting happened when I met Kat's uncle. I shook his hand, which is customary, to show him that I was not holding any weapons that I might utilise to disembowel him. As it is, I'd much prefer to stand with both hands in my pockets, deliver a curt nod and a 'pleased to meet ya', but I was puttin' on the ritz for Kat's sake, so I shook his hand. That's when shit got weird. As he was gripping my hand, he pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek. Very rarely do my lips come in contact with any part of a man, and I certainly wasn't about to sully my day from the get-go by breaking this personal rule. So, although I was already approaching his head, I made sure my face was well away from his. This isn't anything new – I've had to put up with this before, and the other person just kisses my cheek and then I wipe it off when nobody's looking. The weird thing about this time, was that he didn't kiss me either. We just bumped the side of our heads together and released. I felt like a young and handsome Captain James Kirk observing alien protocol and custom on a new landing site. Who does this??!! Not only do I hate being forced to open my personal space bubble for a complete stranger AT ALL, EVER, now I can add confusion to the list too! I suspect he was feeling just as awkward and I hope he learns his lesson from that 'embrace'. IT'S 2010. ALMOST 2011. IT'S OFFICIAL. NOBODY HAS TO KISS ANYONE ANYMORE UPON MEETING THEM. IT'S STUPID, OUTDATED AND INAPPROPRIATE. There. Now that I've sorted that out I hope I shall never go through it again. Other than that little mishap, the morning was quite pleasant, with oysters and lobster!!
We moved on from that to Michi's place. She and her hubby the J-man have just bought a house and it is cute as hell. They've done heaps of work on it already and it looks amazing. So, we arrived just after 1pm and were greeted by their dog Ruby, who is so much better behaved that Rosie that it is like a dog-holiday. They also have a turtle, a chicken and a galah. The chicken is my fave (besides Ruby) and is called Gwen. If you crouch down near her, she will jump up on your knee for a pat. She doesn't appreciate being picked up though, and waits patiently until you put her down before she flies into a wild pecking rage aimed at your feet and ankles. So, after greeting everyone we sat down to presents. Like I said earlier, Kat and I agreed to only get each other stuff worth $30. She broke it. I didn't, so I felt like a bastard, thanks again, Christmas. Nonetheless, she seemed pleased with what I bought her – a little calendar with animals cuddling on it (sounds super lame-o, I know, but she loves that shit) and a book of 2 books – Alice in Wonderland and Alice through the looking-glass. She got me sunnies that I picked out, a hot pink chromed dog money box (I reeeeeally like shiny things) and a robot clock! I was surprised about the clock, but very excited, cos I really love robots too, and his eyes flash when the alarm goes off. I've put it on the tallboy, so that when the alarm goes off, I will have to get up to turn it off, and that way I can appreciate the flashing eyes.
So, we had a nice meal there, shot the shit and eventually had to mosey on home. Once there, we did a quick cleanup, cos we were expecting Caddy and her GF Slams around for a few drinks. They arrived bearing gifts. A few days earlier I had received this text from Caddy:

- Now, I know no one is doing Xmas presents but I accidentally bought you and Kitty something little but I want to clarify it's because I love you two, not because it's Christmas. K? Good. :) xx P.S. this does not obligate you to return the favour, in fact, please really don't. I've already overloaded on sugar and I don't need any more 'stuff and things' :D

How the hell I was blessed with such awesome mates even though I'm a bit of an asshole I'll never know, but that aside, I showed Kat the text and I said

'Well – she said not to get her anything, and I have no money anyway, so I guess we're stuck with this one.' Kat replies:

'Nup. Fuck that. I'm getting her something.'
And she did. She got her a cute retro apron and somethin else I can't remember. Caddy's gift was Haighs chocolates! We ate the WHOLE BAG on boxing day, watching 4 dvds in a row.
So, the evening was nice, and I drank a 6-pack of JD and cola. I thought that I wasn't drunk, but the next morning I found these texts that I had sent Caddy:

Me: I love u guys UR MU FAVRUT BAST FRNDS hey guess what were having MAC N CHEESE GLUTEN FREE Kat's making it I was like 'I'd prefer if u make it n I eat it' and then:

Me: THANK U 4 the choices in the candle holder! I wish I knew cos I was usi g candles (I 3> candles)

Now, that last bit is actually a mutual joke – the website when parents text that I've been laughing my ass off at for about a week – a Mum tries to write a heart like <3 but writes it like 3> and then asks how to turn the 3 around. That then put me onto the site and I sent some to Caddy after that. I think that when I wrote 'choices' I meant chocs.
So – all in all I'd say that I had a pretty good Christmas, and even though I don't believe in it – I did experience a sort of miracle – I didn't get a hangover. Thanks, baby cheeses.
Well, that's it for now!
In closing, here is a pic of my nephew on his new bike!

Peace to all!


Saturday, December 18, 2010

Take two – tales of the fart kind

Ok, so upon a second reading of my last post I decided it was boring. So, since I'm stuck inside on account of my allergies being recalcitrant turds, I thought I might try again with something slightly less self-centred.

So, without further ado, here is the tale of the time I farted at my sister Michi.

When we were young, our Dad used to fart a lot. Actually, he farted a lot regardless of our ages. He would do things like fart as he was walking – tilted up on one leg to facilitate easy release of said fart. Or tip onto one cheek whilst sitting. Or say 'ooh, can anyone smell hot chips?' and laugh when we took in a big voluntary whiff. Needless to say, I was not fond of this habit and I used to complain that it was unfair that we had to smell the air from his bowel (yes, I actually said that).

So, whenever I had to fart (rare, in those days, not so rare now) I would hide it from my Dad, lest he get on a high horse and proclaim that it was ok for him to do it, cos I did it too.

Pause there – skip to the other side of the story. When Michi was a kid, she often used to crack it with a family member, or several. Her way of letting us know that she was mad was to sit in the lounge room in the dark, fuming. What she didn't know was that none of us gave a shit. She'd just sit in there and stew, until she got bored or Mum called her to do something.

Back on track. One night I was descending the stairs when I realised I had a monster brewing. I reached the bottom step, walked down the hall, passed the lounge room and saw Dad in the kitchen. I realised I had to hide my impending fart. I still don't know why I did it this way, but I stopped and backed in to the lounge room. I bent over, propped myself up with my hands on my thighs, took a deep breath and ledderrip. No joke, I even went 'aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh' as I did it.

...You know sometimes when someone's staring at your back and you didn't know they were there but you can, like, feel their stare? Yeah well that happened to me at that moment. Still bent at the waist, I turned my head and there was Michi, directly behind me, sitting on the couch, arms folded, seething with anger, shaking slightly.

She dobbed, but Dad was too busy cracking up to care. Even after years had passed, he would giggle at the thought of Michi, sitting there, thinking that I was purposely farting at her to rub it in her face that nobody cared about her little spat.

Ok, so also a quick Zine update: We're done! Look out for it in the Zine shop (Format) – 15 Peel St Adelaide, it's called Hair Pie DIY, the first episode is free so check it out! We're really wanting feedback!

Last night we were talking about how we're taking a censored version to Egypt and were talking about what we would censor and Kat said 'just write about hummus and Pyramids and shit'. This is why I love her, always with the solutions.



Thursday, December 16, 2010

Heroes in a half shell...

Right. Down to business. Christmas business. Today I finished my Christmas shopping. I cheated a tiny bit, cos I didn't have that much to do anyway, and we had a family Christmas in November. But nonetheless I have, as of today, finished. I bought the last present at West Lakes, which is where I saw a man whip out a genuine hair comb and run it through what I can only describe as a very bushy rat's tail crossed with a mullet. It kind of looked like a squirrel's tail actually. A westie with hair grooming in mind... So in mind that he carries a comb with him...
Anyway, so Christmas has become very confusing for me. I have become an atheist. I have my reasons. Now, let's get one thing straight – I HATE arguing about religion. I HATE being preached to about religion. Those points together mean that I will never try to push my lack of religion onto others, or argue about the choice I have made. It's just the way it is now. I also don't begrudge anyone having faith in anything (although I do believe that having faith shouldn't cost money or mean killing yourself or anyone else) in fact it's nice to believe in something. Just because I don't believe in a/any god/s doesn't mean I don't believe in stuff. I believe in lots of stuff: aliens, ghosts, love, Oprah and the power of positivity. Oh – and curses. I'm not messing with that shit.
Believe it or not, being an atheist isn't just about saying 'I don't believe in god anymore'. For me, it's harder than that. There were things I used to do, even though I never told anyone. I used to pray sometimes. I would pray for someone I knew that was sick or in trouble, or if I drove past a cross by the side of the road surrounded in flowers. I would even throw out a Happy Birthday message to ol' JC each Dec 25th. Being an atheist means I can't do that anymore, it's all or nothing, that's how it works. It's been hard to get rid of those old habits. Now I just send out some mega positive vibes to people that need it and just resort to plain old hope I guess.
So what do I do about Christmas? It's all about the birth of a dude I don't believe existed, but everyone around me celebrates – my friends, my family. I gotta admit – I don't wanna say goodbye to Christmas. I know that sounds pretty petulant – like I said, it's all or nothing, right? So I've been thinking lots about it. I don't wanna be the only scrooge in my personal network. So, my solution is that I'll just treat it like a family day. Christmas is now my official day to make an effort to be with my family and eat shitloads of food. It makes people happy and if they're happy then so am I. I also think it has a lot to do with my Dad. He LOVED Christmas and every year tried to make it awesome. He would be disappointed enough that I'm an atheist, but it would kill him (if he were alive) if I stopped celebrating Christmas.
That brings me to my next point – kids. I am already looking forward to next year when I can holiday with Snowy and my nephew, cos that's the first year he will be able to really understand Christmas and Santa and stuff. So... what about when I have a kid? I already know that I would never deprive a child of that joy. So, I guess Christmas has its talons in me pretty deep and all I can do is get drunk and roll with it.
Onto other news related to Christmas – wastage of money. Ho-ly BALLS do I waste some money! The other night I was leaving work and parked beside my car was the car I had sold to a mate of mine. It was my first car. It was a Daewoo. First mistake right there. When heaps and heaps of people say that something is shit, it probably is. Nonetheless I bought it. The saddest part (actually who am I kidding, there are too many 'saddest parts' to count) is that these days, I'm seeing ads for brand new little cars – good brands like Holden and Ford for like $14000. I bought my daweoo for $20000. Talk about all-time bonehead moves. It was in shitty condition by the time I sold it – a list of things as big as my arm needing fixing, some drunken douche had keyed it and it was filled with dog hair. So, I cut a deal with the kid I sold it to. 'You can have it in the condition it is in now for $500'. That's a $19500 loss. I'm a savvy businesswoman, for sure. Would you believe he complains about the dog hair? The reason I noticed it the other night is cos he has fixed a BMW badge to it, on the boot where the old Daewoo symbol used to be. I guess when you buy a car for $500, you can stick shit all over it and who cares, it was only $500. He should stick sea shells on it like in that episode of the Simpsons. Pondering this epic loss led me to remember when I went to Canada the first time to play inline hockey for Australia. The first thing I did was go to a skate shop and buy a new pair cos I didn't like mine. $500 bucks later I had a pair of Mission D2s. I played decently in the tournament – I liked them, but in the end I wore them about 10-12 times and never again. I later sold them for $200. I should just never have money. Perhaps I will move and live on the land, growing what I eat. I'll have to make a TV though, and I don't think I'm that smart.
In slightly more awesome news – our zine is almost ready to hit the streets! I'm super pumped! The editorial committee (that's the only committee) is meeting tomorrow to put it together! We even have some colour pages! There are 40 pages in it! Some of the articles include a terribly accurate poem on leggins, a movie review, a very informative account of the reindeer and even an erotic tale. The cover is TACTILE. So, if you would like a copy – email us at and we will arrange one for you! I'm bringing some copies overseas! We're going WORLDWIDE BABYYYYY!!!
So I'm not going to write much about our holiday yet, otherwise I won't shut up about it, but I will share a couple of funny things that I'm looking forward to.
-Kat thinks that we can get nacho hats at Madison Square Garden. I scoffed but secretly hope we can. Failing that, just nachos.
-Madison Square garden.
-Sydney Crosby at Madison Square Garden.
-My friends in London, Ontario, I miss them so much!! The person I can't wait to see the most is my mate (let's call her) Wik. She is the coolest Canadian ever and I reckon in the top 5 Mums on the planet. She reminded me today of the Christmas I spent there with her once – we stayed up until 5am wrapping presents so we wound all the clocks back 3 hours so that the kids would think it was earlier and we could get more sleep! Man were they pissed when they found out! In hindsight, it was really mean but it's still funny. Her kids are older now so I don't think they would fall for it again.
-Paris again. This time I can speak a bit. Last time I read a phrase book on the Eurostar and then Snowy got carried away with my abilities and asked me to ask a salesperson about kinds of cheese and if she could toast something. Also I'm going to go nuts on perfume. Yes, I wear perfume. I'm one of those pretentious motherf***ers who only wears expensive shit too. Cheap crappola gives me a headache.
-Egypt. I might have to sell Kat but whatever gets us inside Tutankhamen's tomb...
Alright, that's probably enough. Last thing I want to share is something that happened the other day on Facebook. My mate tagged me in this pic. When I saw it, it was midnight, I had just finished work, I was waaay overtired and I actually cracked up at it. Well, I cracked up at the pic and the first comment:

Facebook user: 'that is so funny I love the turtles'

That just set me off, and I honestly don't know if it's funny to anyone else or just me in that state of mind – but what else is there in that pic to love?! The sand? The foam? Then my mate who was tagged as Raphael commented:

'Hey where's my other sai? WHAT IS THIS???'

And I snorted again, I could imagine her rage. Shortly after this, a mate in America used the pic for herself and tagged me in the post. Some douche wrote this:

Facebook user: 'I hate to be that guy, but yeah... the Ninja Turtles aren't sea turtles. They would most likely be some type of fresh water turtle. Thanks.'

*blank 'I'm looking at you this way cos you're a fucktard' face* THEY'RE ANTHROPOMORPHIC, ASSHOLE!!! IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER WHAT THEY WERE!! THIS PIC IS FUNNY AND YOU ARE RUINING IT!! Incidentally, they were red eared sliders, but I'm not telling him that. Pompous git.

Then, today at the same mall where I saw the squirrel-tail-hair combing I found this on the ground:

Omen. Boom.

Alright, that's really it this time, thanks for your patience and merry christmas to all!
P.S. Just kidding – I don't believe in Oprah ;)

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Sucking chest wounds ahoy!

So last week I had to do a first aid course. It's a necessity for my employment as a duty manager at the ice arena. As luck would have it, I managed to snag a position on a course that was held about 1.5 mins drive from where I live. And yes, I did drive. It was a two-day course. I got there about 4 mins early on day one.

The room was set up as you'd expect – chairs in a semi-circle, a PowerPoint slide presentation ready to go and a bunch of resuscitation mannequins, open mouthed and waiting to be kissed. They remind me of people who have to get around town on skateboards cos they have no legs and you always wonder if that hurts their bits, if they have bits.

Firstly – what's with people spelling mannequins 'manikins'? I don't understand how people can just decide to start doing that – 'hey, the word mannequin spelled the French way is just too hard to get my brain around, I think I'm just gunna invent a phonetic solution. M.A.N.I.K.I.N. Yeah, that's much easier.' The English word for mannequin is DUMMY, DUMMY! Whilst on a language rant, I saw a place yesterday that spelled 'cafe' 'caffe', like they couldn't chose between the French and English word for coffee to advertise their cafe. That whole situation is an imposible cycle; we call coffee coffee and go buy a sandwich from a cafe, which is almost the word café, which means coffee anyway! Call it a deli. Safer. Incidentally, I believe that 'deli' is short for 'delicatessen', which means 'delicate eating' in German, so theoretically, no deli should serve anything that isn't considered 'delicate', like I think a full breakfast is pushing it a bit.

Back on topic. So as I walked in the door of the venue, I noticed a table with three things on it – a bunch of first aid manuals, a pad of participant forms and a sheet of stickers which I presumed was for name tags. I took a book, form and sticker and sat down. People kept coming in and sitting down without glancing at the table so the facilitator had to tell them to go back to get the stuff. No biggie. Then a guy came in who returned to his seat wearing the tiniest sticker known to man. He had peeled off a little thin one that borders the paper. The facilitator – let's call him 'Perkins' had to read it from about 3cm away from the guy's chest! The name tag read 'Arch'. Perkins looked at his course list and said

'aaaand Arch would be short for..?'

Arch replied 'Andreas'. Naturally.

Perkins says 'Oh...' and Arch laughs and says

'I always get people with that one!'

Um. I'm pretty sure if I attended courses with a name tag other than my actual name on the list I'd 'get' people with it too. I carefully watched Arch in case he proved to be a tool, but it turned out he was actually pretty lovable and funny.

After that, as is usually the way with these courses, we had to introduce ourselves to the class and say what we do. Now, I swear, I'm not a racist person, but there was a guy there and I just could not understand what he said. I honest to got thought he said he worked in a kissing booth. I said

'Wow. I didn't know they had those anymore.' He looked at me weird. So did everyone else. I said 'you said kissing booth, right?'

He replied 'Fishing boat.'

Off to a great start. The course was actually the best one I've done, but they do not need two days, at all. The amount of chatting and the general slow pace was a bit ridiculous. Perkins was super cheesy and corny, but he did lighten the mood and make the course fun. He had songs cued to go when pertinent – like when talking about body fluid contamination – 'Can't touch this' came on. Hm.

After the course finished, we had a Road Train Rollers dinner at the Deli in Thebarton. If you have never been, slap yourself and then go. It's awesome. They make wicked sangria and their gluten free pizza is amazing!

Saturday afternoon some mates came around and we had a meeting about a zine we're gunna do. If you're interested in this zine, comment here sometime and I'll organise you a copy. The first issue is free. I will say no more.

After the zine brainstorm we noticed that 'Celebrity singing bee' was on the telly. If you've never seen it, you are truly blessed. Firstly, why do they label things 'celebrity' when the viewers watch and go 'who are these people? I've never seen them before in my life!' Secondly, stop scraping the bottom o the barrel for ideas and just run old episodes of The Brady Bunch or something. Seriously, nothing can be worse than 'Celebrity Singing Bee'. Also, the dancers they have? Ghastly. They're in mini dresses – black with yellow stripes, all in sequins. The dancing is horrible! I think they're trying to be gogo style or something, but it's like they're trying to be waaaay too hard-hitting. Like they're trying to combine backup dancing with hip-hop and crump. It insulted my eyes and I wanted to cry. Then I changed channels and Anne of Green Gables was on for like the first time in TWENTY YEARS and I was placated. Nay, more than placated, I was thoroughly chuffed.

Sunday we had a team skate. It was hot and I was not nearly hydrated enough. Right near where we skated there was a car racing track. Grown adults racing toy cars. I scoffed at this until I realised we are a bunch of grown adults on roller skates. Those lil cars – when they crash it's actually really cool! They flip like realsies! Also, they go very fast, which was sweet to watch.

Towards the end of the training session I sat in chewy. My favourite. Right next to the track there was a soccer tournament. Everyone there was black, except for the two cops watching. Three little kids from there came to watch us and started racing us, it was heaps cute.

Well, that's about it, sorry that wasn't more exciting. I'd like to finish with something I found on facebook last night when I got up to pee and had a mad headache. Whilst waiting for the painkillers to kick in, I trawled status updates and here is what I found:

Facebook user: 'Okay fine, I won't steal all the cashews out of a bag, I'll pour them into a bowel and steal them from there :3'

My reply: 'bahahahahahahah! I'm sorry, but the thought of u eating nuts from someone's bowel is just too much!!! I think you meant 'bowl'... did they taste like shit?'

Stay tuned for details of the zine!!

P.S. I 4got 2 mention that I helped out with the ADRD fresh meat testing last Monday. It was amazing. The calibre of the group was so high. Please, If you're reading this and you're one of the girls who didn't make it – don't lose hope! You ARE amazing! It's just unfortunate that there were so few spots, but that's the nature of the beast. It will only mean more derby leagues, so more derby for more people:)



P.P.S As I entered the building at work last week, a co-worker who is in her fifties commented on my hair. I was wearing a bandana 'Rosie the Riveter' style, with a little pink bow clip in my fringe. She said 'Oh! Your hair looks so pretty!'

'Thanks! know it's a mohawk, right?'

'Yeah, but the way you wear it, so pretty!'

So there you go. mohawks CAN be pretty.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A week in the life of... WARNING: OFFENSIVE PHOTO

Ok. So, this might piss some people off. These people all have on thing in common - they live in Brisbane. My dearly beloved Brisbane friends, I have done a shitty thing. I have spent the last week in Noosa without telling any of you. I'm sorry, but I had to. Here's why: I only had a week to spare. My Brother and his family were visiting from overseas, and my sister Snowy and the bub came up too. On top of all that, I had about thirty boxes of crap I had to go through for Mum, as she was fed up with storing it, and rightly so. That took up precious hours of family time, and to be honest I just did not have a day spare that I could use to go to Brisbane. I know, shitty friend. But, for those of you that will forgive me, I will make it a longer trip next time so that we can party.
Ok, that outta the way, prepare to be assaulted by my tale, it begins with QANTAS...
Firstly, why do they only employ ugly, surly old bitches? Is it a prerequisite to be a crabby middle-aged curmudgeon? Do they give them an intensive two-day course on how to give terrible customer service? Alright, so I was feeling slightly seedy on the morning we left Adelaide. I bought a coffee. It went like this:
'Caramelatte please.'
'Cafe latte?'
'Cafe latte?'
'No, a caramelatte.'
'yes but made from a cafe latte?'
*sigh* 'sure.'
so I got my cafelattewithashotofcaramel and was surprised at how good it was, despite the lack of brain activity in the woman who made it. I went to the gate with it. I greeted the ancient slapper with a cheery 'how're you going?'
She (no kidding) looked me up and down like I was wearing ripped lingerie and ten inch heels and snapped 'is that coffee?'
'You can't take that on board.'
Well, I pride myself on being polite, but when someone is needlessly rude to me, I fire up. I glared at her, then walked over to the bin, and stood beside it, slowly sipping and savouring the caramelatte. Bear in mind, we were nearly last boarding, cos I hate lining up like a sheep. This makes Kat very nervous, she would rather line up for half an hour than just wait til last and walk straight to our seats. So there was I, enjoying my coffee, looking at the tv that sits above the bin, and I could feel them looking at me. Kat was more imploring than the walking corpse, she was just plain seething. I looked back at them. Kat motioned for me to hurry up. I said 'I'm not hurrying, they'll still be lining up on the aerobridge and I'm not wasting this coffee.'
The hostess with the mostest was turning slightly red and was tapping her foot. 'Well, you have to come through now, because I already scanned you' she hissed. Bullshit. Like there's a timer at the plane that beeps if you board after a time of two minutes has elapsed. Bitch. But Kat was in agony so I opened the bin flap and pitched the coffee in with all my strength. I strode back to Ozzy Ozborne and stood in front of her. She was clearly flustered (as well as being stupid and ugly) and scanned my pass again. The machine had a hissy fit and I felt deep joy that she had screwed up and was embarassed. She handed me my pass. I snatched it off her as vindictively as I possibly could, and stormed off down the ramp without so much as a backward glance. She said something after me and I ignored her. I felt I had won, and I didn't have to see her again, cos she was ground crew, right? Wrong. I didn't order any food in the plane in case she might spit in it.
Ok skip forward to our arrival at my Brother's place. It's nestled in the bush at Pomona and is so bloody full of serenity, you could choke on it. Present were my Bro and his awesome Scottish wife, two sets of good mates of theirs (all cool characters), my Ma, me, Kat, Snowy, the Bohdster (nephew) and my other niece and nephew. They are teenagers and I think there is something wrong with them. I say this because they are not like normal teens. Get this - they are not surly, not at all. They somehow not only want to spend time with their family, but they really fit right in too. At one point (make sure you are sitting down here) Snowy started doing the dishes after dinner, and my seventeen year old nephew said to her 'let me do this, you go and sit down and relax.'
The cutest thing is that when we got there, he had organised a treasure hunt for us to do, with clues leading from one spot to the next! This might make him sound a lil fruity, but he's so cool! He plays bass in a band, and is heaps popular! I dunno how I got so lucky with my family. In spite of the coolness though, he does have a lil weakness - fear of heights. This made Monday interesting.
Monday we climbed the Story Bridge. It was all kinds of awesome. Before I recount the tale, let me share what happened when I asked Kat if she wanted to do it. I had been texting my Brother, he was asking if we were in:
'Kat, whaddaya reckon about a hundred bucks to climb a big bridge in Brisbane?'
'Sounds like a pretty good deal...'
*Inner monologue* wow, that was easy.
So, it wasn't until days before our trip and I was fretting about money that it all came out:
'Shit, and we still have to pay a hundred bucks for that bridge climb!'
'The bridge climb? Please don't tell me you don't remember me asking you.'
'I remember, but I thought they were paying you! You mean we both have to go, and pay a hundred each?'
'Wait a minute, you though someone would pay me a hundred bucks to climb a bridge?'
'Why would I do that?'
'I don't know! You do all sorts of dumb shit for money!'
No wonder she has been so easy to convince!
Bear in mind, the only thing I have ever been payed for that wasn't a normal job was when I got a flu shot, once.
So, although I offered her a way out, she decided to go ahead and climb. There were six of us. My Brother, his mate, my Niece and Nephew, Kat and I. Kat and my nephew are scared of heights. They were fretting, Rainman style as we set off. We had to wear harnesses, which was fine, and headsets, which was fine also, if only the tour guide would have stopped making lame jokes. You're in charge of our safety, mate, we're already your friends. You don't have to try so hard. Nobody laughed at your joke about crossing the bridge by pogo stick the first time, no need for a second, is there?
The view was magnificent, and I managed to placate kat enough to enjoy it just a little. Sadly, we couldn't take cameras, so I don't have any pics yet, but rest assured, in each one, Kat's face is a stone mask of disapproval, and mine is that of a grinning fool. I loved every second, and so did my niece, which is surprising, cos she used to be scared of everything when she was a bairn (Ive been reading Irvine Welsh), and my bro loved it too, but that's not surprising, cos he's game to try anything.
On Wednesday, we went to Eumundi Markets, which, if you aren't familiar with them are iconic to the area. They used to be tiny when I was a kid, I can remember Mum and Dad taking us, and we used to get little paper bags of warm Macadamia nuts and sometimes a toy. Once I got a tiny doll, it's face was porcelain but it's body was all stitches. I loved it but lost it somewhere.
These days, it's mammoth. Well, Mammoth for Eumundi. Snowy was super excited, I was moderately excited, which drained away when I saw the generic stalls and high prices. There's a new section down the back that I don't like. There's never anything there that interestes me - except for one stall selling little illustrations from old children's books. I was looking for approximately seven seconds when the woman came over and launched into an explanation of what they were, despite the fact that it was glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain stem. I became irritated, I hate people pushing things on to me. I walked away, but Snowy stayed, and I could see the woman busy with someone else, so I came back. She clearly had a thing for me, cos she reappeared at my side, as if by some sort of annoying magic. 'You're an Alice fan!' she gushed.
I looked at her. 'What do you mean?' Alice Cooper? In Chains?
'Alice in wonderland! The little girl, the lion!' She was referring to my tattoo. Firstly, there is no lion in Alice in Wonderland. Secondly, SOD OFF!
I looked some more at a tiny pic of Winnie the Pooh, too fat to squeeze through a door. I put it down to think about it. She approached me AGAIN, 'Oh, you're not getting the fat pooh?'
I waited until she spoke to someone else and snuck away, but I know she saw me go, I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my skull.
After the market, we all sent to the pub for lunch. It was there that my beautiful baby Nephew had his first ice cream. Behold his ridiculous cuteness:
He waved it round like a microphone and got hardly any in his mouth.
Thursday was our 'Christmas day'. We have an early Christmas for the family members present about every second year, when my Bro is back from o/s. Thankfully these days we do a secret Santa, with a limit of $50, which is ace cos we have a big family. We still get the kids presents though. We did that in the morning, and I got a cool necklace from my Sis. I was surprised actually, cos I'm really hard to buy jewellery for, and she nailed it. Usually I'm happy with a bit of string with some beads, I don't go fo a lot of bling. When my Brother and the gang arrived, this is what awaited them:

I was not aware that anything this cute existed. Poor lil bugger was so good about it and we were all taking pics and cooing and gaaing and then when we took it off, he was sweltering!
So, at Mum's, there is her house, and then a lil bunk house down the back. We stayed there. This was good in some ways. bad in others. Good when the bub woke at 5am, bad when I needed to pee in the night. The first night, I made the trek back to the house, thinking of zombies and dodging cane toads the whole time. Yeah, that wore thin. After that, army style outside the bunkhouse, for no. 1s only though. Anyway, Friday morning I woke up and could see three roos outside. They were about 50m away and I thought aww. Later as I was coming back to the bunk house, I saw a plover. I thought to myself 'plover' in a most menacing manner, cos I hate them with a firery passion, them with their stupid hunched over walk and pathetic cry... as I was glaring at it, I hadn't realised that I'd strolled over to the three roos, which were now in Mum's garden. Embarassingly, I let out a little 'argh' but they didn't move, just stared at me in that stern way. I crept closer and got a pic:

I wan't scared, cos they weren't big and I went on and told Mum. We all thought nothing of it until I was in the shed a half an hour later, trying to finish those boxes I mentioned. The op shop has never been so lucky as the day all my stuff goes there. I was ruthless.
So caught up was I in going through the boxes that I didn't notice Snowy leave, scream and run back. She just stood there, eyes like dinner plates, panting.
'What happened?'
'Did you see a spider?'
*shakes head*
Mum helps: 'snake? Roo?'
*nods and goes into Rainman mode* 'Itwasreallybig,reallybig,rightinfrontame'
Naturally, as in all crises, I began to laugh. 'He won't hurt ya!'
Then I found out how close she got. She's been walking with her head down and at the point where his foot came into her vision, she stopped, raised her head and was visage à visage with him! She about shit herself and rightly so! Then Mum tried to calm her down and send her back up another way, and suddenly she ran back again, Rainman all over: 'There'soneatthetopofthepath!thetopofthepath!Mumsentmetothepath!' Turns out there cheeky buggers had gone right up to the actual house! Well, by this time, there was no hope for me, and I chuckled my way through the next two boxes.
To put this in context - these boxes were about a lifetime of stuff excluding things I have accumulated here in SA these last 5 years. I found precious loved toys like:

and books like the first one I ever was given, when I was 5,

and my favourite pillowslip from when I was little (yes I am that weird), even though I hate horses:

But I think the winner of the day was this:

Yes, you're looking at it correctly, it has a massive wang. I had been hoping I still had this 'little' guy! This came from my trip to the UK in 2002. Mitchi and I went to visit Snowy and Dean, who were living in London at the time. One night, we went to a multi-level club called On Anon, in Picadilly Circus. They were having half price drinks. Silly me went and drank three cocktails and a whole bottle of red wine. A little later, while I was politely vomiting into my hands on my way outside, it occured to me that I may have had to much to drink - maybe. One of Snowy's friends followed me (her name was Kuldeep but I kept getting confused and calling her Cool Water) to help out. She said 'you need some air, let's go for a walk to Soho.' I said 'ungh.' Cool Water took me to a porn shop owned by her friends. I asked if I could use their toilet. They said yes. When I opened the door in a hurry, I had a fraction of a second to notice that the toilet was also the cleaning cupboard before I spewed all over a vacuun cleaner. It was one of those upright ones, that sort of look like R2D2? I cleaned it as best I could but can remember that there was still chunks and dribbles caught in nooks and crannies. I returned to the front of the store and did not tell them of the fiasco. They seemed to like me. Probably not after they next went to the toilet though. They gave me that little pink rabbit. I asked for a girl one with a vagina but they only had ones with whopping great dongs. I thanked them nonetheless and got the hell outta there. So, that rabbit was the prize find in my sortings.
On the way home from the week away, we had a 6 hour stop over in Sydney (thanks tiger air, you incompetent stupid heads) So we met my great mate TJ in the city and he showed us around. It was awesome to see him, as we seldom are abe to catch up. Coupla nice pubs, coupla nice beers, a very bad rendition of Don't Stop Believing in the mall by some band and a walk in the park. Cheers, Sydney for the weather n all. Just a quick side note, it's TJ's birthday today. Happy Birthday mate, I wish I was there to celebrate with you, drinking cheap claret from emptied jam jars.
Back at the airport and after waiting for Tiger to pull their heads out of their asses we were finally through. The family in front of us had really tested my patience - the father didn't speak english and quite obviously (to any sane person with even a microbe of common sense) had way too much luggage for any airline, ESPECIALLY one as retarded as tiger. Among his mountain of cases was an esky, taped up. He flew into a rage when his wife translated that he couldn't take it, and he ripped it off the conveyor. The tape around it broke and it dropped on hie foot. he raged more. Then he set himself up on the floor right there and began whipping things out of it - clothes, teatowels etc. Just when I was about to pass out from anger, the next counter became free.
On our way to the gate, Kat stopped at a Newsagent's. I trolled for magazines. 'Whoah! Looka this!' I called to Kitty and showed her the mag I had found. The very handsome and buff dude in the front had his jocks pulled indecently down, you could see pubes and the top of his Johnson! I looked inside and the first pic I saw was a black man wearing nothing but a top hat! I mean, it was a very nice hat, and his hand was cupping the business, but it was like, almost porn! Then I realised. Gay mag. That's not porn, it's artsy.
By the time we got home, we were flat out exhausted. We were syanding by the carousel, which was going but there were only 2 bags on it. One was a suitcase and the other appearred to be a toiletries bag. So deep was the level of our fatigue, that we found this hilariously funny - like tiger was so stingy that they made some poor bugger check this in or something. And around it went, all by it's little lonesome self.
So, that was our trip. This has been a massive post, so I'm gunna end abruptly here, with my favourite comment of the trip.
Snowy: 'Robyn, are you wearing a push up bra?'
Me: 'No. I'm not wearing a bra.'
Snowy: *evil stares*
Til next time!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I love learning but I hate studying

I promised myself I would blog every week. Then it changed to fortnightly. Then I started honours, and like the time I had five straight shots of black sambuca, it hits you all at once. I was bragging about how I had it all under control... hm.
Councidentally, around the same time that I started to quietly pop and fizz inside with panic, I began what I like to call 'the headache month'. I never didn't have a headache, just varying degrees of it - from 'hm, I don't think I can watch another episode of Mad Men, I have a headache' to 'take this note to my Mother and tell her I love her... oh and there's a watch up my ass'. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and my very good friend the lovely Vaderella told me about her miracle healer, so I went.
Sideline Interjection - BK is amazing. Dw If you don't understand this, I'll explain later.
So. Off to the healer man. Get this - two days before I went, I was complaining to Kat about my left hip and the right side of my upper jaw. I'm not sure if she was listening cos the tv was on, but I remember telling her and being baffled at why they would hurt, I had been doing nothing but assignments. When I went to see him, he asked me through to his examination area thing and stood about 2.5 to 3 metres away from me and looked me up and down once (not in a creepy way). He says:
'Well, your hip's out,' and pointed to my left hip.
I said 'uh, that's a bit weird, it has been hurting of late...'
He walked up to me as he said 'it's throwing you whole body off. let me guess, it really hurts here... but not here.' He poked my left bicep and I (no joke) yelped in pain, poked the right, nothing. After a couple more comparisons, he touched the left side of my jaw, nothing, touched the right, BAM. Weird, huh? All that from looking at me (not creepily). He did some things to my spine, there were pops and cracks and all of a sudden I felt looser (not in a sexual way). He told me it might be a couple days until it settled in. Lo and behold, two days later I woke up without a headache for the first time in a month. Chiropractice (did I get that right) is gold. Thanks Vader.
Now, I've missed out on some things owing to these headaches, the most notable - several assignment deadlines. Luckily I have amazing tutors and they have been very understanding. Regardless of posture or glasses, it's kinda impossible to stare at a computer screen for hours on end when your head is crumbling like so many eroding beaches. Another thing I missed was several chances to dress up. A Mighty Boosh party, our league end of season party and Halloween (I didn't even go out that wknd, just wrote and wrote). I didn't dress up for any of them. One thing I was adamant that I wouldn't miss was the dress up skating birthday party of my lil mate Diggity. He turned thirteen. This kid is all kinds of awesome. He makes shirts for all the derby girls and he decorated my new helmet. He comes to bouts dressed in a top hat and eye stripe, just like me, and he skates like the wind. So, he had a thriller dress up party. Since I was still busy with uni work, I thought of a costume that I wouldn't have to spend any money on or time either. Here it is.

To accompany this, I took a hockey stick with the blade covered in blood, like it slit my throat. Turns out that particular brand of fake blood looks really cool, but is very, very sticky. Every time I looked down, my neck stuck to itself and as the night wore on it got worse, and started to really hurt when I separated it. Nonetheless, I think I looked pretty gory. The party was heaps of fun, although I felt weird skating in quads and hockey gear. It's kinda like when you see someone in a really cool outfit, skinny jeans and stuff and then you look down and they're wearing sneakers. It's just not right.
After the party we were hungry and decided on KFC. Caddy and I chatted and agreed on the KFC we would go to. The only problem with that discussion is that although I was making eye contact and nodding, I wasn't listening to her and I went to the wrong KFC. After I got us to the right KFC, they were closed. We went to the door and it said open til 11pm and it was just after ten. We spoke through the glass at the chick and told her they had to let us in cos the door said 11. She did. Then the manager was like 'no! we're closed!' and we said 'what? It's not eleven!' This went on for a minute (bear in mind we were all still in Costume, I felt like a peewee hockey player whose parents dress them prior to arrival at the rink) until they told us we had to go through drive through. We (lied and) told them we didn't have a car, I don't know why, we were just riled up I guess. They said we could walk through. We said 'well ok, but you should put that info on the door, it's false advertising.' On our way out we spotted the smaller print that said 'drive thru only after 10pm'. Bunch of douches, that's us.
The next day I spent writing and awaiting a call from my hairdresser, who takes the word 'cool' to a fifth dimension that only dogs can hear. Coincidentally, just as I finished, she text me and said I could come round. I was tired of my hair already after only three months, I never did anything with it, just got up every morning and put a hat on. Also, it's so thick that my scalp is starved for air so I decided it was time for a change - a whopping great change. This is the result:

Just kidding, that's not me, this is:

Hahahahahaha ok enough tricks, this time it's really me:

That's a quiff in the middle there! I will say that I love my new hair - I love to be different to everyone else. Also, it's easy to style, versatile and cool for summer. What I will also say is that it is not popular amongst my peers so far. I calculate that only about five percent of people that I know who have seen it, like it. I can tell because they see me, look for a second then pretend they don't even notice and they say nothing, or perhaps they say 'ohhh... you have a haircut...' and either walk away or change the subject. I'm not stupid. I know it's not for everyone. But it is hair - the very nature of which (unless you're Peter Garrett) is to grow, so I'm not stuck with a mohawk forever, it's just a bit of fun for now. When you look in the mirror, do you say (via inner monologue of course) 'I sure am an individual... bit of a dork but an individual nonetheless. I stand out in a crowd and like to live life on the edge! Go me!' OR is it more like this - 'I have long hair. It can go in a pony or stay down. I am reliable and fear change. People seem to like me because I am polite, and I'm rarely late.' ?
Anyway, although largely uneventful, that has been my month. Now I can go back to fortnightly.
Sweet! You stay classy, interwebs!
P.S. BK is my tallest friend and she complains every blog post that I never mention her awesomeness. She beats me at The Day Of Poo app but once I punched her in her glasses and smashed them to smithereens. They were not on her face at the time.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

You Don't Have To Be A Nana To Scrap

Ok. An hour to kill, so never one to waste things, here I am, tapping away at keys. Tap tap taperoo.

So last post, the grand final. Two days after that Kat and I travelled to Canberra to visit my sister, her husband, baby and poodle. I always get very excited about these trips, because as the years have rolled by, my sisters and I have become increasingly close. Now, I'm going to admit something here that I really don't want to, but such is my commitment to having an honest blog. I craft. yes, me. I'll explain: years ago my sisters started crafting. As a girl, Michi used to do quilling, which is where you curl up tiny thin pieces of paper into coils and stick it on shit. Make cards, you know. She was very good at it. I tried: fail. Ugly unfurled scraps hanging off a bit of crookedly cut cardboard. I gave up. Then my older sister Snowy got into stamping. She has like 1000 stamps or maybe hundreds, I really don't know. Again, I tried, again I was less than impressive.

As the years passed, they both got into jewellery making. When we all visited each other, we would take a trip down to the bead store and get supplies. they'd spend ages choosing pretty baubles and the like, I'd grab a handful of plastic beads in the colours of the gay pride flag and a bit of cord.

So, imagine my surprise when I started to take a liking to it. I think it was Kat's influence. I wanted to make her gifts (gagging on the sugary soppiness of this).

Then, this last visit, Snowy called me to ask what I had planned for our crafternoons. My inner self detached and watched, mouth agape as the prissy little crafter holding the phone gushed about scrapbooking a page with a photo of her beautiful nephew.

So, there you have it. I craft. I'm actually not too bad at it. I really didn't want it to get out, fearing it's bad for my rep, but then I remembered I'm a nerdy writer wannabe and I loosened up about it.

So there was that. There was also our plans to travel to Batemans Bay and spend a few nights there. It's east of Canberra and very pretty. We had the holiday unit all to ourselves and it was suh-weet. Went for a walk on the beach the first day and watched Shmoo (the poodle) tell everyone to get off her beach. Side note: yes, my sister is aware that 'shmoo' means something else, but she doesn't care.

So there we were, crafting in our little beach place. Unfortunately Kat fell ill so she just rested. Snowy and I got hard core. In the end, I made this:

That's me, Kat, my nephew and Shmoo in there. Look, I'm not saying it's genius, but for a non-crafter? Pretty proud of myself.

After being there one night, Snowy's husband Dean arrived. He's a good egg and is usually the one raising an eyebrow at me or Kat when we say something dumb without thinking. The tables turned:

D: 'So Kat, what've you been up to?'
K: 'Nothing much, derby and I've also gotten into Bikram yoga.'
D: 'What's that?'
K: 'It's doing yoga in a 40 degree room.'
D: 'What, like the floor's on a slant?'
................blank looks all round followed by a good dose of ROFLing...
On further thought, I don't know what would be harder, the heat or having to balance on that angle.
The saturday night we all played board games. I love them. A lot. We played one called Smart Ass. I guess it's kinda like Sale Of The Century without the blonde chick revealing what face had the money. So, if you answer incorrectly, you can't answer again. This is a great example of what a douche I am. The question was 'Where is mount Kilimanjaro'. I was already out, I guessed China. That's how good at geography I am. It gets worse. I was trying to help my sister get it so I looked at her, put my hands together as if to pray, closed my eyes, nodded my head and hands and said 'ah, mount Kiramunjaro'. Taking my cue, she guessed Japan. She was wrong. It's in Africa! She was like 'but you made me think it was somewhere asian!' Hahaha and my reply was 'well it sounded asian to me'.
So, we had a great time, left the coast on the Monday and spent the last night in Canberra. Monday night we all got into a discussion about In The Night Garden ( ). It's a freaky little show to get kids to go to sleep, and it has weird characters like IgglePiggle, MaccaPacca, Upsy Daisy etc. They all prance around and eventually have to go to bed although IgglePiggle is a bit of a bastard about it and always needs encouragement and in my opinion, a smack. I'm pretty sure IgglePiggle and Upsy Daisy are in an interracial relationship, which is nice to see. That's why he carries a blanket around, I think. Anyway, Snowy thought that it was people in costumes, Dean thought it was cgi, and I agreed with Snowy, but I couldn't decide if I thought it was kids in there or midgets. So, I googled it (thank you iphone). Turns out it's adults in the costumes, with really big sets! There is some cgi as well though. The chick that creates it also did TeleTubbies and that seemingly drug-induced BooBah. It was a little difficult to find out who was in each costume, cos they don't really want people to know, but I hit the jackpot when I finally found a pic of IgglePiggle. Behold:

I showed it to a friend of mine who has a love affair with IgglePiggle and she was most upset, as I had ruined her image of him, from cuddly lil blue guy to asian rocker dude (he's in a band). I wanted to find out who's in MaccaPacca, cos he's my fave, but I couldn't. I like him cos he goes around with soap and a sponge and washes people. We could use more of that in our society. He really only washes their faces, but I can see potential for a whole lot more.

So, Tuesday we went home, but not before going to Floriade. it's a tulip festival thingy that Canberra has at the same time each year. It's free. One year they tried to charge admission, but nobody went. I mean it's nice and all, but I'm not gunna pay money to see flowers. I can walk by a florist any day of the week. Nothing eventful really happened, it was just really pretty. See?

Ok, well that's about it for me. Sorry I don't have much news, it's assignment time so I shouldn't really be writing this anyway... but it's so much more fun:)

Keepin it real since yesterday,


P.S. I apologise for the clumsy layout of this post. This uni computer is on the fritz and won't let me edit it :-/

Monday, September 27, 2010

And history was made...

Ok, well you can say that about anything, I know, but go with me here, I'm about to recount a tale of heroic exploits, sweaty backs, smashed faces and no, I do not mean the football, I'm talking about something much, much MUCH better than that. ROLLER. DERBY. GRAND. FINAL.
Ok, so let's start from the start. Kat and I were organised for once, and actually got to the showgrounds a half hour before we had to. I felt good about it til I realised that it was locked and we couldn't get in. We were at the Rose Tce entrance so we walked around to the Goody Rd one, shut too (ugh). THEN we had to walk all the way round to the farmers market. All this time I was aware that everyone who saw me was like 'what the...' as I was in my boutfit with my hair all teased up, my eye stripe and my top hat on. Kat was in a tiny dress with fishnets so while people were fearful of me, they were perving on her.
We eventually got in and the pandemonium started. I got geared up and had a lil skate on the track we were going to use, as it was different from the usual one. I warmed to it straight away. It was more slick than the usual, but less slick than where we practice each week, it was perfect for me actually, cos I like a little slide, but not too much. Then, we got to our jobs, mine was selling raffle tickets. I'm good at this, cos I can shout loud and have the ability to make people feel bad for holding out - 'C'MON PEOPLE, I KNOW YOU GOT A DOLLAR IN YOUR POCKETS, DON'T MAKE ME SMASH HEADS HERE'. The crowd was already huge, the line snaking several times, and it was only just after 12:30, doors opened at 2:00. I finished my book and went back in to skate some more.
At this time I asked Caddy to tease my hair up for me. 'make it real big' I said. As she was teasing, she was giggling, and she told me that maybe she'd made it too big, maybe I wouldn't like it, so I checked it out in the mirror. If a lion mated violently with Tina Turner and had a dodgy looking kid with a black stripe over her eyes, she would look like me. I gasped, touched it softly and whispered 'it's perfect'. Caddy asked 'why do you want it so big?' I gave her crazy eyes, pointed at my head and said 'to put fear in the hearts of my enemies. Would you fuck with this?'
At some point someone told me there was someone outside with hair like mine and that they must have dressed like me. I laughed, cos that was the first time I'd done that to my hair, so nobody could've known, that must've been their real hairdo. Sweet.
Ok. Fast forward to the skate out. I was a little unsure about it, I'll admit. I'm not really a musical theatre fan, and it was a take off from West Side Story, which I've never seen. Why I liked it in the end, is that Mr W and Candy sang a duet together and it was so camp and fabulous that it sold me. I think the crowd liked it, well there wasn't any booing, so they must've.
So. The first bout, Mile Die Club vs The Salty Dolls. Poor MDC hadn't won a bout all season, so there was a lot riding on it for them. They started strong, but then gradually got a lil razzed and the Salties started to get a grip on the scoreboard. I watched as Champion Ruby planted a canopener straight into Lula Fortune's face and I thought to myself 'oh my, this is gunna be interesting' (yes, I actually so have the phrase 'oh my' in my inner monologue).
The first half went so quickly. It was time for us to warm up, so I didn't see the second, but from the sound of the crowd, it was going off like a frog in a sock. Letta Loose from my team is a mad kickboxer so she brought focus mitts for our off skates warm up. GREAT idea. I got a lil overzealous, which, teamed with the fact that I have no boxing skill almost bowled her over backwards. 'Take it easy psycho', she said, and I felt very complimented! My hair was clearly working.
Karmen Getme set up a good vibes shrine in our changeroom. All of us put something there to boost the good juju, I contributed with the bowtie I wore to the skate out of my first bout ever, which was the first time I ever got lead on Barrelhouse Bessy. That's important, more on that later.
More warming up in the deafening roar of Mile Die fans as they took third place, and we were out on the track. I mean it when I say I wasn't nervous. I'm sick of that shit. I was always nervous when I played hockey, feeling ill because of it, and it's useless, so I scrapped it. These days, I just tell myself that I'm gunna try the hardest I can. Whether we win or lose, I can't give more than my best, and that's what I did.
The bout started tentatively, we got on the board first, but the Hearses followed soon after. They are an amazing team, lots of depth there, and with leaders like Pixie Pincher and Nyx Bellatrix, with Bessy in the mix also, well, let's just say that they're formidable opponents.
Now, I gotta admit, and I apologise, but I can't remember much. One thing I can remember is that my first jam of the game was against Bessy, just like my first jam ever. And, like that first jam, I got lead! It must have been that bowtie on the shrine. I think I jammed lots in the first, I do know that I jammed last before half time, and I thought I was going to pass out. I was so hot. I managed to get my breath back though. At this point we were 13 points down, I think. Back out there, and things got hairy. Both teams were getting penalties, and there was a jammer in the box a lot of the time. People were getting desperate, blocks were flying all over the shop and I think we were all pretty damn tired. It stayed close until I think the last six minutes or so. Then, things got crazy, and time went into fast forward, like a Benny Hill flick without the music. I think from memory, Mad Dog Mims had a great jam, then Kit Cat Krunch, then me, and all of a sudden we were 20 or so points up. Our blocking was amazing. I felt like we'd finally clicked as a team and were truly working as a unit. I didn't let myself dare believe that we had it in the bag, especially as Violent Krumble was in the box and Bessy was up to jam. Bessy is just someone that you can never ever underestimate. She was on fire too, lapping the pack. I think we had blockers in the box as well. She skated amazingly, but then Krumbs was back out, earning points, and we knew we were safe. The clock chimed zero and we were champions.
What a crazy bout. The Hearses were undefeated all season. It was Vaderella's last game as she's retiring, so I was even more super duper happy to give her that send off. Incidentally, it sealed the hat trick year for me. I retired from ice hockey after we won the national championships for the fifth time, my ice hockey team I coach won gold in their division for the first time, and my derby team won the championship. High fives all round.
Now, to the afterparty. I re-teased my hair for the event. The Ed Castle was packed with derby girls and supporters, it was jumping with positive energy. I was flitting around, socialising, dancing, drinking, spilling etc. I lost a dance-off but was gracious in defeat. When the lights came on, we migrated to La Sing in Chinatown, and that's where things got messy. I was standing around, chatting, when I heard a crash. I looked over to the stage and Kit Cat had fallen into a cavity in the wall back there and was struggling to get back up, beer intact. I thought to myself 'oh my, things are getting good'. I've blogged before about the karaoke-goers who are very serious aboutt their 'craft'. Well, there was one there. Incidentally, the tranny with the fripples that I usually d and m with wasn't there. Sad. Anyhow, there was a serious singer up doing a song, can't remember which one. Canon Wonderful grabbed the mic and began singing over the top of him. Who was better I cannot say, but who was funnier, I can. Canon, hands down. I was helping her do highlights. The man became very upset and glared at us. He said 'Do you want to do it then?' Canon replied 'yep' so he left. Then a very angry chinese man came over to sort us out. 'You cannot steal other people song! You don't do it again! Now Behabe! BEHABE!' I nodded and confirmed that I would 'behabe'.
There was a football team in there with us, who kept choosing shitty songs, so I got on the mic and shouted 'You all are pussies and you're choosing pussy songs!' The chinese man glared so I stepped down.
All in all, dedspite the lack of my perpetually hard-nippled tranny friend, it was a great time. We got home about four, went to bed and I awoke feeling like I'd been danced on by John Goodman. I think that some of the soreness was from the bout, some was from dancing and repeatedly punching my arms in the air. I was supposed to go to uni but my car wouldn't start again, so I stayed home, feelin very happy in spite of the alcohol poisoning and derby tenderising.
Now I'm in Canberra for a week, chilling with Kat and my sister's family and I'm loving myself sick about it. So, until I'm back in Sunny Adelaide,
Thank you for tuning in, this is Burt healy saying...
Hey! Hobo man, Hey! Dapper dan, you both got your style, but baby you're never fully dressed, without a smile...

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Pre-game jitters, anyone?

Ok, that was a lie, I don't have pre-game jitters. But now that you've started reading, why not continue?
WARNING: this post contains unsavoury topics.
Notice how I didn't give you any indication of what the 'unsavoury topics' are? That's my hook. Now you have to read on, half turned away from the screen, reading through eye slits, waiting for that moment when your eyes fall on the icky word and you have to avert them, gasping 'it's so shocking'.
Ok, I'll get to the point. Kat's dog has her period. I know, it's called 'on heat' but that's not exciting at all, it makes her seem more human if I say she has her period, or rags if I'm feeling bogan-ish. So. We went to get her desexed, but then money issues arose and we've had to wait. In the meantime, boom. Now, I'm going to get really graphic here. This will probably gross people out and also make people see me in a different light, but for entertainment's sake, I'm going to paint it like it is.
The story starts the day I realised she had it. This is the gross part.
...wiggly screen shot to flashback... diddle e de, diddle e de, diddle e de...
A few weeks ago, kat and I changed our bedroom around. You know, feng shui and all that. So, the room looks great. Washed the sheets the same day to top the feeling of newness so all was crisp and nice. We slept great. Until about 6am. Rosie was up. We were like 'um, are you sleepwalking? You know we don't get up until 11'. She was like 'I'M IN YA FACE. I'M A BIG LOSER. HAVE MY NOSE IN YOUR EYE. YOU LOVE IT.' We were baffled. This followed on for a couple of nights. We were sleep deprived and ready for death (Rosie's). So, one morning (this is the gross part coming up), as she woke me with her nose in my face again, I opened up the sheet and she slithered in and slept for about half an hour. I was so desperate for sleep that I didn't even care about her hair, I would just wash the sheets that day. Later, as I was making the bed, I notice spots of blood on the sheet. I said to Kat:
'There's blood here. I think it's from Rosie. She's been scratching her ear again, maybe she has a lil scab'
'Uh-huh.' (nil interest)
'Uh, Kat?'
'You don't think she has her period, do you?'
'Her period, she isn't desexed.'
'I dunno.'
Always thrilling morning convos, we have.
I forgot about it until I went into the kitchen and saw drops of blood on the floor *GROSS* and then it hit me that I had dog period in my bed. Great. As my Dad would've said, 'it could only happen to me'.
Now, Sunny is desexed, so I've never had this problem with her. This is all new to me and it is not fun. She just cruises around leaking blood! Surely there is something I can do? I thought of a nappy but she would tear it off. To make matters even more gross (avert thine eyes if you're squeamish), her vag is MASSIVELY SWOLLEN!! It's just hangin around back there, being all puffy and gross, I don't know how she sits down! It's like a car crash, I can't stop staring at it and going 'eww'! God, I hope we can get her desexed before this happens again.
Anyway, so on Sunday a mate came round with her two dogs to have a play date and a walk on the beach. I asked her if they were male, she said yes, but desexed (I do NOT want a preggers Rosie). So she came over. Neither seemed to notice anything until after the walk when we were all having a drink in the backyard. One of her dogs all of a sudden noticed what was going on with Rosie becoming a woman n all. So, he started to get that look in his eye and the dance of love began. I don't think there's a person alive that isn't amused by dogs trying to hump stuff, especially when they're getting it all wrong! He was trying to hump her side! She was looking at him like 'uh, riiiight'. So, as if this wasn't disturbingly funny enough, the stupidest thing happened next. Sunny, my docile nine year old desexed lab started to try and hump the boys, both of em! Now, Sunny used to be a mad dirty pumper, I've seen her knock kids to the ground to have a go, but she hasn't done it for ages, so it was a crack up to see all four running around, Rosie trying to retain some semblance of dignity, Sunny completely throwing hers to the wind and the boys alternating between getting their head humped by an ill-aimed Sunny mount and trying to bag Rosie!
Really not what I expected from my week, but at least it was a break from study. Sorry about the content today but not much has really happened to me this week. Next week I shall divulge all about the GRAND FINAL this weekend!! (Booyah)
Peace and dog nappies,

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Hooo Lawdy!

Alright. So let's get it over with, yes, I was in the snow (with over a metre of fresh) for a week while everyone else was at work/school/uni. Put the jealousy on a shelf while I tell you the story please, then you can glare at me through eye slits if you still want to.
So, months ago, I checked my fb for the twentieth time that day (thank you iphone) and there was a message from Travis, the boyfriend of a best mate of mine. It read: 'do you snowboard?'
I replied 'yes, I do. But Lucy has been trying to get me to go riding with her for the last five years, and my answer is always the same: I have no money.'
After a couple of hours: 'What about if I paid for your flights and accomodation as a birthday present to Lucy?'
My reply: 'Uh, ok.'
So It was decided. I was going to the snow for the first time since I was in Canada in 2005. Woot. Since my Mum from time to time had been sending little pieces of my gear down (imagine my surprise to open up a parcel and in with the birthday gifts are also the base plates from my bindings) I had everything I needed except my board. I asked her to send it down, but since I'm a massive scrooge, I asked her to go to the op shop, buy some blankets and a roll of packing tape and wrap it up like a giant present. She did, and god bless, found that the cheapest way to send it was on a greyhound. I popped in to the depot the week after to pick it up.
'Hello. I'm here to pick up my snowboard please.'
'Oh... nope. No snowboards here.'
I point to my snowboard: 'what about that?'
'Oh. That snowboard.'
Yup, that one. Never let anyone tell you that greyhound is running anything less than a world-class operation.
So, very early on Saturday the 21st, off I popped to Melbourne. I spent the majority of the day watching hockey at the new rink there, the Icehouse. I'm not gunna lie, it's magical. Majestical even. Angels sung as I entered. Their Zamboni is a cat. Behold.

I don't think I need to say anything more on that.

Sunday about 3am we headed off for Hotham. The closer we got, the more evident that it became that there was already a very generous amount of snow. Choice. We parked the car, got geared up and went to ride straight away. Let me tell you who 'we' were.

Lucy: Mad snowboarder. Mad chick. Mad hockey player. Just mad.
Travis: bf of Lucy, good snowboarder, general shitstirrer.
Sheree: friend of all, leggins wearer, decent rider but not fond of toeside edge.
Jonno: Amazing dancer, nice guy and funnyman. Great rider, good at faceplants.
Fab: cool guy, great rider and lover of ladies.
Sylvia: didn't see her ride much but I get the impression she shreds. Great dreads.
Costy: brand new rider. No fear, will try rails and jumps and smash into beer kegs.
Tony: world-seasoned travelling rider. Good looking and not afraid to appear gay when dancing.
Me: textbook intermediate rider, generally likeable buffoon, not good at tree runs.
So we got straight into it. My goal the whole time was to be trying jumps by the end of it. I was mindful not to injure myself for my derby final so I didn't go too nuts and by the end of the week, I was indeed jumping and getting air. Baby air but air nonetheless and I didn't crash any landings. Behold, the awesomeness of my HUGE air.

Any hole's a goal, as they say.

So as mentioned already, there was lots of snow. On account of the fact that mother nature is a skanky moll with no teeth and clearly miffed about it, instead of just snowing quietly at night while we're all dreaming of big air, it was basically a blizzard the entire time. The only exception to that was the hour of sunshine we got on tuesday. We were riding around and when the sun came out we thought that we might head over to the Orchard chair, a place we had wanted to go to for a while. On our way to the lift to take us there, Fab had a great idea - to take a shortcut through some trees. Lemme get this straight - it was not a tree run. It was just trees we foolishly went into. Halfway through, after scraping straight over trees, rocks and Lucy, I took off my board and walked. Clever you might think, I did too, til I sunk to my crotch in snow. By the time we got out of the trees, it was cloudy and spewing snow on our heads like so much confetti at a wedding before the littering taboo set in. Fun memories.
Other than that, good riding.
Nightlife. Beer pong. Alcohol. Staff having a retro night. Me creepily stroking the leg of a girl I did not know on the bus ride home because she was wearing slinky, sparkly pants. Apparently, she didn't mind, but that's second-hand information, I certainly don't remember it.
We had to dig the car out. I cleaned the apartment instead, as I don't go much for digging at the best of times.
Back in Melbourne, and Saturday night I took Lucy and Trav to the South Sea Roller Derby's first public bout. For a first time bout, I was impressed - good sized crowd, great skills, big hits and I got to say hi to the lovely Kitty Decapitate, who coached the winning team. I recognised her bf who is a ref before I saw her, he's a good ref, very thorough and not power-trippy at all.
Ok, that's plenty long enough. One last quick story before I sign off. Saturday morning our cat Kitty was attacked by a big ginger ninja and got a severely injured neck, poor lil thing. Consequently she's hardly moved from our bed, she's still so wobbly. Naturally, being away in the snow for 9 nights, there were things Kat and I wanted to do upon my return... Kinda icky though with Kitty on the bed and all. So we've both been too polite to talk about it, you know, out of respect for Kitty. Last night we broke the silence:
Me: 'Y'know, I gotta admit, I'm just about ready for that cat to be able to sleep elsewhere...'
Kat: 'I KNOW!! I mean shit, I know you've got a sore neck n' all, but jeez... go to the physio!'
Hahaha I can always count on Kat to go to a place nobody else will.
Sweet, so that's it. My 2010 snow adventure. Maybe next year I'll go again, and get another millimetre of air.
shiny salutations,

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Laundromat love...

Ok, I have to admit that title makes it sound like I'm going to write a cheesy romance novel here, but the truth is, I tried to start this post while I was stuck at the laundromat this afternoon. For some reason I can't get past the title on my iphone now, I will be writing to the Ombudsman about that, rest assured.
My local Laundromat is actually very unromantic, but it is somewhat interesting, with the walls plastered in signs advising how to use the machines, the prices, what you're getting for your money and also a nastygram to whoever it is who keeps washing greasy clothes to stop it, for god's sake man, think of everyone else who use the machines!!! After reading this, I imagine a masked washer, filthy from his greasy job and donning a balaclava, sneaking into the laundromat at 3 am, high on the thrill of getting someone else's washer dirty instead of his own, and all for the bargain price of three dollars.
Anyway, this cannot be a long post, because kat is due any minute and will be less than thrilled to find me doing this and thus eating into date night time.
So, I thought I would write about roller derby camp! Adelaide Roller Derby League among other wicked things, runs a camp each year in Mylor. It was my first time. I will admit, I planned poorly. For someone who constantly rubs their iphone and all it can do in the faces of those unfortunate enough not to own one, you'd think that I mught have consulted either of the TWO weather apps I have and packed better. You win this time, non iphone owners.
So, it rained a lot. Thankfully I did have a brolley in the car, so it wasn't all tales of woe there. Kat on the other hand only packed one pair of shoes which became soaked in the first two minutes so the poor lil kitty had to borrow Kit Cat Krunch's wellies.
Anyway, so we got there, bagsed a bunk and sat down to hear the rules. I didn't really listen. Then, we went to watch some footage from the girls who recently went to Rollercon (jealous) which was hilarious but overlapped into the time allocated for swingdance lessons by the Swing Sesh dancers. This was something I had been waiting for. Dancing like that always reminds me of my Dad and the stories of his teenage years, dancing the night away, the cha cha, the jive, the jitterbug...
So off we went. I gotta say, those Swing Sesh folks really know how to git 'er done! We had to take our shoes off as a rule cos it was raining, so I was in socks. They had no holes in them. First, we did the charleston. It was reeeally hard for me at first, on account of my general unco-ness, but it started to get better, and I was having a ball. I had to take my clothes off so that I was only in my jeans and singlet, cos we were working up such a sweat. We then had a short break and got into the jitterbug. I had to learn lead as there were only two boys present. It was unbelievably fun, and I'm sure I freaked out more than one person with the smile plastered on my face - it never wavered. By the end of it, I had a hole in one sock, the bottoms of my big toes hurt and my legs felt weak, especially my calves. As we left the hall, I stopped to stretch them, thinking 'boy, my calves are a little tender'. UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR!! After a few hours had passed, it became evident that under each big toe was a blister the size of a 5 cent piece, and my calves had frozen up. They stayed that way for four days, Monday I couldn't even lift my feet whilst walking!
Anyway, although walking was painful (to say the least) for the rest of camp, the fun didn't stop there. We had a talent show that night. Earlier in the day Krumbs (the queen of team building games) had given each person a slip of paper with a name on it. The point of this was that you had to do a good deed for the person on the paper. I got Vaderella *claps* so I decided to write a song for her and sing it in the talent show. By 'write' I mean rip off the song by The Mouldy Peaches from Juno, Anyone Else But You. I put appropriate words for Vader in there, and did it as a duet with Mims. Vader liked it, she may have shed a tear even. I was stoked. Also, myself, Mad Dog Mims, Kitten Affliction, Belli and D'Juana Fight me put a lil number together, an interpretive dance somethingorother to my Australian accoustic rendition of Ring Of Fire. I had to look towards the crowd only, because the dancing was so funny. The line 'I fell for you like a child' somehow evolved so that Belli would jump into the arms of Mims and JuJu and pretend to be suckling from Mims. I don't know actually, if it was more disturbing than funny, but the crowd seemed to like it. The last chorus I shouted instead of sang, and I could feel my face going beet red. Good at shouting, I am.
Canon Wonderful also put on a cooking show as her talent and made a potato gem casserole. Now, as a rule, I don't eat gems on account of the fat and wheat, but later that night I made an exception. The festivities had been going on for some time, and after all but the die hards had gone to bed, I found myself in the conference room with GoGo Fiasco, Belli, Canon and Mims. GoGo, Belli and I were astounding everyone (and by 'everyone' I mean Canon and Mims) as we performed Heart And Soul together, it was actually phenomenal, GoGo and I were swapping parts and overlapping hands even! After we tired of that, Belli and I seemed to naturally gravitate to the table where the leftover casserole was. In hindsight, we were always meant to end up there, I think. So, there we were, a coupla drunkards, scooping out the most revolting looking glop in the history of cooking with our bare hands and exclaiming how gooood it was!
So, that was that. We slept, woke up, discovered that Hell Grazer, Vaderella, Psycho Fox and Marshall Stacks hadn't slept, cleaned up, helped Mims look for Belli's keys that she'd lost the night before, rejoiced when they turned up in Foxy's jacket pocket and left for home.
Camp overall? Complete success. My life will never be the same, and now I'm only more hooked on derby if that's even possible.
Peace and potato gems!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Greetings from the other side of 33...

Ok here we are again, this intimate relationship we have, you sitting at some form of computer, me sitting on my lounge icing a part of my body that I injured at derby. Today it's hammie. I could've called it hamstring, but the expression 'pulled a hammie' really lends a feel of sporting prowess to the situation so I'm going with that. I pulled my hammie last night at training, in the last jam I skated where I was also the jammer. I looked considerably like a grand fool as I was halfway through the pack and yelled at my blockers to trap someone behind them, so the wall of three opposing blockers in front of me would 'pull a twenty' and have to let me by. Right after I yelled that, I fell over my own feet in the weirdest manner. I didn't notice it immediately, I finished the jam and then was preoccupied with a teammate who I had thrown into a jammer earlier, causing her to injure her knee.
I'd like to elaborate on that. I know there's 'no saying sorry in derby', but sometimes you just have to. We've been taught a move that involves pushing one of your fellow blockers into the opposing jammer if you can't get to them yourself. I did this twice last night. The first time it was funny, I tried to push someone sidweays into a jammer, but she went forwards into an opposition blocker instead and got a major back blocking penalty for it. I found it hilarious and just kept playing. The second time: not so hilarious. I pushed her into a jammer again, but probably too hard and she really flew. She did take out the jammer, but also herself, and she twisted her knee in the process. This all happened in a flurry and I also got a finger in the eye at some point, I lost a few lashes but I'm ok. Anyway, the girl I pushed was (understandably) very angry at me. I apologised maybe twenty times, but I felt just so bad, and still do. Nobody came up to me and said that I did the move wrong, so I have no idea whether I did or not. All I know is that for the first time in my derby career, I am responsible for injuring someone, and it feels wretched. I also have a slightly squinty right eye but I really do think I'll recover.
Ok, so now to less melancholy business. Last week I had a birthday, I turned 33. My sisters and I have a little arrangement going where we have a joint bank account into which we each deposit $10 per week. This facilitates the travel of one or two of us (depends who is having the birthday, two of us live in Adelaide) to the city of the birthday girl so we can all celebrate together. I'm pretty sure it's the best idea I've had.
So, my older sister came over from Canberra on Thursday night. We shopped and had lunch and generally hung out on Friday, and Saturday we drove to Hahndorf. I would like to share an exchange that happened on the drive that I found particularly amusing. Let's call my big sis 'Snowy'.
Snowy: 'So I've been getting right into season 7 of UFC's The Ultimate Fighter.'
me: 'what's that?'
S: 'It's where two fighters or ex-fighters train up a bunch of fighters each and they battle it out'.
Me: 'Oh. Like Pokemon.'
*silence as we stare at each other, me suddenly realising how utterly absurd that comparison had been, she trying to decipher what I just said*
S: 'what's that?'
Me: (realising I actually know very little about pokemon) 'well... kinda similar, a trainer has a little creature he keeps in his pocket and then he meets up with another trainer and they open their pockets and the creatures do battle...'
S: (with narrowed eyes) 'I don't know what you mean...'
me: 'have you ever heard of pikachu?'
S: (brightening) 'I've heard of peek-a-boo!'
At that point I felt it was better to let her steer the convo and just keep my stupid mouth shut.
Something else I'd like to talk about is op shop stuff. In my experience there are two schools of thought with regards to the clothing they sell: those who believe that they wash them all before selling them, those that KNOW they don't (as if they have the time). I usually wash things I buy there if they are going to make contact with my skin, for example a t-shirt or hat, even. There is a running joke in my family about me 'airing' things I buy at op shops, which originated when I bought a jacket once, was cold so I wore it straight away. We always have a laugh at me 'airing' things as a method of washing them. So, Friday, Kat bought something from an op shop, skirt I think. Snowy saw her wearing it Sat morning (Kat's gunna kill me but I just gotta say that she had it on backwards first and I had to turn it around for her hehe) and said 'Skirt looks good, I hope you aired it nicely.' To which Kat replied: 'Oh yeah, of course.'
...'in a plastic bag...'
Hahahaha now I am no longer the worst op shopper ever.
Ok, so now let's get to Saturday night - the party. Myself and two *Awesome* derby mates Lady Cadaver and Van Slam'er (spelling? sorry if I ballsed it up Slams) had it at Slams' house. Caddy n Slams bought all the ingredients for the ultimate punch, which they put in a small wheelie bin with a ladle attached. As a surprise my lil sis Michi brought her trio to play there and they absolutely ROCKED!! As the songs played, we all got progressively drunker and I did some of my specialty dance moves. Then my sister asked me to get up and sing. I was surprised at this, because I don't sing well, not at all. But, being the wildly intoxicated attention loving leo that I am, I went up. Now, I can't remember how many songs we sung and in what order, but I think I remember that Foxy and Wild thing were crowd favourites. I also sung Hey Joe and had to make up 90% of the words. I may have thrown in the line 'punched her in the tit' in lieu of 'shot her down' even. When it came to Wild thing, I did something that I have never done in my life. I started to like, scream. Not like I was having limbs torn off, but how a full on rocker would sing that song. I think it sounded alright and I really enjoyed it! Odd. I got some really cool stuff for my birthday, on of our fan brigade made all three of us personalised t-shirts! The same kid that drew the picture in not my last post but the one before.
Ok, well as usual I am late to meet Kat for date night, so I must make that all, but it's probably long enough anyway!
Kindest regards old chap,