On this day..

1. 1473 - Nicolaus Copernicus, famous astronomer, whose at the time controversial theory called "De revolutionibus orbium coelestium" is percieved as the starting point of modern astronomy, was born on this day
2. 1985 - EastEnders is first aired on the BBC! (You can see my new and old house on the map in the start of the show). I love a show which can make you think "no matter how bad I think my life is, at least I'm not pregnant and still in love with the man who I am having an affair with, who doesn't want to have an affair with me, but is only doing it because his wife wants to buy my child".
3. 1861 - Serfdom was abolished in Russia
4. 2007 - It's my birthday, and I am now "officially" in my "late 20s". 28 was my mid-late 20s. Undeniable, 29 is my late-late 20s.

As it's my birthday, and to honour my german ancestry, to celebrate chinese new year, and because it's the last day of my "Birthday Season", we went to Kurz & Lang for a german pork sausages and sauerkraut for lunch. Tonight, a few of us are off to a Swiss fondue restaurant, where The Flatmate will try not to be sick, since he reckons he's now been hit with the gastro bug that's making the rounds of our group.

Present wise I have done exceptionally well. Dr D got me a DIY book, my friend Pop, who has amazing taste in fashion, gave me a cool pair of earings that appeal to my catholic side by having what looks like bits of rosary beads dangling from them ! Lee got me a cool book chocka full of American Diner recipes. My friend, Campbelly got me a champagne recorker so that I can safely induldge in Champagne Thursdays without feeling the need to neck the whole bottle in one go. And finally The Flatmate, C, Calv, Magic and Dr D gave me an XBox 360!! WOW!! I can now play Halo, which I love, as well as Gears of War, which is just plain frightening!

I also got these beautiful roses from my mum.

On Saturday night, C and I had a lovely dinner at a local pub, which 20 of our closest friends came to. On the way back to our place, for the inevitable party, I walked everyone past the soon-to-be-mine flat, where we all stood outside freaked out the vendor... Why having 15 or so people standing outside their flat, pointing and going "oooh" and "so when do they move out?" would freak someone out is anyones guess. They didn't look too happy looking out of their windows, desperately trying to call the cops...

And yes, if you're wondering, the inevitable party did end at 4 am when we sang our voices dry with some awful/awsome Singstar.... A really serendipitous finding that night was that I own all the ingredients needed to make some kick arse cosmopolitans, which Lee, Pop and I drank by the huge red wine glass full.. no wonder I didn't surface from my room until 1 in the afternoon!

All in all, it's been a pretty good birthday season. I'm not too worried about getting older.. though I'm sure that's going to change soon. But right this very minute, I will own a house soon, I'm going to Brussels for the weekend, then I'm off to Svaldbard and China in a few weeks, so at this moment in time, life is pretty damn tasty!

Your Friday Moment of Zen: Hats made of seals are bad

For some insane reason, The Flatmate, Calv, Magic, Dr D and myself are all off on holiday in a few weeks time to Svalbard. Officially a part of Norway, it is Europe's northernmost territory, and is way inside the Arctic circle, being about 1000 km from the North Pole. In fact, I think it's as far north as you can get before they slap the title "explorer" on you. The whole territory has only 5 towns, the smallest one having a grand population of 10 people and the "capital" having a population of 1,800... My last job employed more people than that!



The fact that there will be no sun for the whole time we're there means we will hopefully see the Aurora borealis, which I think is the main reason for us going... The fact that the average temperature is about -12C, which goes down to about -30C with windchill, is not the thing that's freaking me out the most... It's the fact that for years now I've always thought of polar bears as cute and cuddly animals, who drink bottles of coke, nuzzle their young, are romantic to their partners, and love to give humans hugs. However, the 500 or so white cutie pies which are on the territory are the biggest threat to people, and if one tries to attack you, you are advised to keep shooting it until it stops. Killed by lead poisoning. Thus, you are told to never leave a settlement without carrying a rifle.

Which you can hire.

Without the need of a license or even the knowledge of how to use one....

So in honour of this new found polar bear fear, this is my Friday Moment of Zen: Of all the freezing, north pole equipped, fuck off hard core weather gear I will be wearing in Svaldbard, not one item will be a hat, shaped like a seal.

Enjoy!

Posts, posts, posts

I've been uber slack for the last week, but I do actually have a ligitimate excuse: that stupid monkey called "work" has been on my back for the last week, so I've not had much of chance to write things up. But hopefully these 4 posts will make up for a week of bludging (well blog bludging..)

Yours in slackness,
I

Infatuated again

I wrote a couple of months ago about a horrendous crush I'd developed on Superman (yes, you read right. Not much of a mind blowing announcement: "Geek girl fancies comic book hero. "). Oh god, how pathetic).

However, the revolving door of fictional men I get crushes on seems to have stopped right firmly at the door of Jane Eyre's Mr Rochester.

This is of course helped by the fact that he's recently been played with Toby Stephen's in the BBC production, which is just amazing. After watching the BBC production, I was in the throes of the 19th century novel, and I have to say, I don't know where this novel has been all my life! And on top of that, I can't get over it was written by a Bronte, considering how I can't even count the ways in which I loathe and despise Emily Bronte and her pathetic book "Wuthering Heights" (for god's sake Catherine and Heathcliff. Get a god damn fucking room, or go get lost on the moors until collapse of starvation and wild dogs eat you).

Mr Rochester though. God damn. Whilst it's sad for someone my age to lust after a fictional character, especially the youngest son of a wealthy man who ends up (LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO SPOIL IT) locking his wife away in a tower and becomes a brooding, angry, depressed, hollow shell of a man. But there you go. It's too late. He's long "dead" and I think he's great.

Finally! Finally!!!!!

After 5 months, and 17 agonising days, I have finally been told by my lawyers that they might have all the necessary paper work, so I could possibly exchange contracts for my new house next Monday, which just happens to be my BIRTHDAY!

I refuse to let myself get excited, and start thinking things like appliances, light fittings, curtains, and removalists, until they can guarantee that I will have the keys of my flat in my hot litte greedy hands.

OH MY GOD! I MIGHT ACTUALLY EXCHANGE ON MY FIRST FLAT! How fabulous is that!

Ok calm down. I will not allow myself to get excited about this, because the feeling of elation when I've been told that there is only 1 thing left to get, followed by the absolute dismal feeling of being let down when I'm told something else hasn't come through yet has left a horrid taste in my mouth, so I refuse to let myself get disappointed again.

Still, I just can't stop myself from being excited! Watch this space, because I am going to INUNDATE this blog with the crappy things I want to fill my house with. Starting with this cool, cool, cool retro lamp (at the insane price of £1,980):



It sucks to be me... so many beautiful things, so little money...

Night of firsts

Going out with people from work usually means that our group from the office end up in a pub 2 minutes from our desks. It also means that I always end up getting the tube or a taxi with either Dr D or Calv (cause they live very close to my house). However this time, Calv was too sick to go out, and Dr D was just getting over being sick (both boys had a horrendous case of gastro, which I was practially willing myself to get... it's pretty pathetic when you want gastrointeritous just so you can feel a bit thinner, and that you actually feel the sting of rejection when a stomach bug refuses to not infect you and leave you lying on the tiles of your bathroom floor... ). So at about 9pm Dr D left the pub and me, for me to make my own way home...

So tonight was definitely a night of firsts. The first time I went out with work people on my own (how wierd is that?). The first time I ended up in KFC on my own, eating my dinner at a table in the corner by my lonesome (hey, love me, love my KFC!).. and for some reason I kindof saw my future - a sad image of myself, staring back at me in the flourecent lit reflection of the door. A sad woman, siting alone, slightly pissed, nibbling on chicken wings...

And thinking about it now, I'm not too sure how I feel about that....

Happy Birthday C!

It's C's 29th birthday today (6 days before mine) so this post goes out to you:


C is very much into 1940's looks (hair, dancing and dress), so I have been trying to find a picture of a cheesecake girl that she might like. The only problem with this is that it means that I need to type the words "pinup", "girl" and "cheesecake" into google, which obviously puts my work pc into worlds of problems. I'm seriously waiting for the internet police to come and take me away for looking up porn.... albeit 1940's porn...

So C, Happy Birthday! Hope you're having a good day :) Don't worry, we've still got 365 (372 if you're me) more days in our 20s...... It's possible it could go all downhill from there....

Oops: I forgot to mention that I found this picture here

Mayren as an M&M

In the new "You as an M&M" exhibition, here's Mayren (of Mayren Abashed fame) in M&M form! Nice hair & bear combo!

Remember, if you'd like to take part, go to becomeanmm.com and sculpt yourself out of a piece of virtual candy, send it to me, and I'll post it!

C as an M&M

I'm going to blog anyone who has made an M&M person of themselves. If you want to send it to me, then let me know and I'll send you my email address.

This is C. She said she think she looks rubbish, but I reckon she looks hot! Look at those shoes!

Remember, if you want to be an M&M person, check this out!

Snow in London

Today it snowed for the second time this year! As an Aussie girl, even after almost 6 years in London, I am still excited everytime I see the snow, even if it is only about 2 cm deep and has all melted by midday. At lunch today, I found all the swept clumps of snow, and jumped up and down in them like a 5 year old. I'm never going to grow tired of that!

Check out my slideshow here

Me in M&M form

Clearly whilst being very busy at work, I stumbled across this from those crazy kids at M&M.

Try it, it's fantastic fun!

For The Flatmate

Whilst watching an episode of 'Friends', Ross' g/f comes in and finds them playing Strip Happy Days, and goes "Ok, I'll catch up" and takes her top off.

The Flatmate: "Damnit! I came in late, and only saw the end of that!"
Me: "Damnit! If only we had a tivo box of some type which was recording what we were watching!"
The Flatmate: "Damnit! And if only that tivo box meant I could rewind and see her in her bra!"
Me: "Well why don't you then?"
The Flatmate: "Well, I would, but if I did, you'd blog it."


The Flatmate - you're so damn right.

Screaming my rebel yell

Since Friday night, roughly 60 hours ago, this is the sum total of all I've eaten:

• Approx 2 dozen pieces of chicken wings. All with hot sauce.
• 2 servings of fries
• 2 x 1/4 massive serving of nachos
• 1/2 a family size bag of corn chips
• 1 whole rack of baby back ribs, fries, and 'slaw
• 1 serve Chinese noodles
• 6 pints of beer (I think...)
• Too many bottles of beer to count
• Cocktails - including shots (too many to count + don't actually remember how many I had bought for me)

A truley mature, healthy and varied diet huh?

This is how the blame is being organised for this weekend of glut:

1. Beer/shots/beer/shoots/first serve of chicken wings: Going out on Friday night after my ex-ex boyfriend told me he was definitely moving to Ireland to be with his g/f, even though he told me he would never leave Australia when I moved to London. I needed all the extra beer and shots to help me fuel me for the inevitable drink and dial I ended up doing...
   
2. 1/2 family size bag of corn chips: Being horrendously hung over on Saturday morning, dragging my sorry arse onto the couch, and finding a pack of Doritos on the table. I had to substitute my coke/corn chip cure for just corn chips and water to try and feel human enough to go to orchestra...
   
3. Beer/Fries/Ribs + fries + slaw/cocktails: Hair of the dog + we were going out for dinner anyway... AND I can't go to Bodeans and not have ribs.. That would just be plain wrong.
   
4. The Beer+Wings+Nachos Blowout: Superbowl Sunday and watching the Chicago Bears bend over and receive a spanking from the Colts.
   

In fact, this whole weekend has just been one big be as naughty as I can possibly be weekend.

Firstly: The ex-ex: I believe that all phones should have the "Don't Make An Arse Of Yourself" feature, where it recognises when you're drunk and if you call a number you KNOW you shouldn't, either blocks said number from being dialed, or at the very least gives you a recorded message with something like "if you make this phone call, you know you will end up waking up tomorrow, realising that you've made a complete tit of yourself, and end up wishing you were dead, because frankly, your now in your late 20's and you're still acting like a fucking teenager".

Damn you Drink+Dial. I don't really remember what I said but I'm sure it contained the words "why didn't you move for me? What the fuck was wrong with me?" and "you bastard", even though I know that this is not this guys fault, and it was like 1000 years ago for fuck sake, and given the choice, I wouldn't have changed a single thing, because we both know it all worked out for the best anyway.

Secondly: C and I bunked off 3rd period musicianship class at orchestra this Saturday, because 1) we couldn't stand listening to Viola Woman drone on and on about crap that has nothing to do with the class, 2) the sun was actually shining, and we wanted to sit and bask in it's cancer omitting rays. I've never bunked off class in high school, and I felt like such a rebel. I was practically Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club (though obviously without the being a boy and smoking dope bit).

Thirdly: HOW MUCH JUNK HAVE I EATEN THIS WEEKEND? I can't add up all those calories because I don't believe numbers can get that big. The Superbowl has the most to answer to for my poor diet. Despite the fact that I know nothing American football, I happily used Superbowl Sunday as my excuse for staying up until 3.30 am on a school night, help demolish 2 massive Pyrex serving dishes of nachos + guacamole, drink copious amounts of beer, and gorge myself on delicious spicy, buffalo chicken wings. The Flatmate and I went to Dr K's and Calv's house last night, where they cheered the colts, and I of course cheered on the Bears.. who lost. Typical. Calv and his friend Mappy were supposed to do a podcast for their website, which I was going to special guest star on, so on Sunday morning, (with another hangover), I boned up on my Superbowl knowledge. I was desperate to say on the podcast how I believed that "Chicago would take a very similar approach to what they did in the NFC Championship game against the Saints, and play a very physical game." And how I thought that "The Bears would try and get as many hits on Manning as they could, whilst their corners would do all they could within the rules to manhandle the Colts receivers and throw off the timing of their passing game." However we never recorded the podcast, and around 2 am, I kept falling asleep, waking up, eating some more chicken, taking a slug of beer, then fall asleep again.

Ok, this week I'm going to be uber virtuous and v angelic. I'm going running and cycling, eating only salads, fish and low fat soups.

OOOHH, someone at work just gave me a caramel egg... Ok right after this I'm going to good.

Who am I kidding, I just can't do virtuous and angelic.. I'd best just go buy myself some eatin' pants.

In Loving Memory

There will be no Friday Moment of Zen this week for 2 reasons:

1) I wanted to talk about the gorgefest that Sunday night will be thanks to the Superbowl. I don't even watch american football, but any excuse to eat nachos, buffalo wings, ribs, and guzzle bottles of beer is ok with me (I'm so classy!). And whilst I do have a full post about Gorgefest Sunday Superbowl, I can not find any pictures of chicken wings that do them justice.

2) Today's entry will be in loving memory of The Flatmates Nintendo Wii.

Which I apparently bricked by sending him an email.

Oh yes, that's right. The Flatmate's Wii, which we got him for Christmas, and which you can not now buy for love or money is bricked. Dead. Fucked. Gone. Bye bye.

Apparently by sending him an email which has loads of html tags in it (who knew that a Eurostar itinerary could so lethal?), I've managed to kill his Wii. It starts up, begins to play the Wii music, then boom. Dead. It just stops working. He's been on the phone with Nintendo customer support, and they've never seen this before, so he's now had to send it back the very same day he bought a brand new controller so we could play 3 player Mario Carts.

Oops.

So to help stop him from topping himself, we took him out last night to get a bit pissed. And in loving memory of the games console that everyone wants, but no one can get, I'm missing out on the Friday Moment of Zen, because for him, there can no longer be zen like state of being.

Embarrassing Kareoke Flashbacks

I've just had the most embarrasing flashback of me standing in my living room, mic in hand, singing my guts out to Belinda Carlise's "Heaven is a place on earth":

"OOOH baby do you know what that's worth?
OOOH heaven is a place on earth
They say in heaven, love comes first
OOOH heaven is a place on earth
You make heaven a place on earth...."

Oh dear.... I thought it was a bit wierd that I seemed to know all the words.....

So here I sit at my desk, blushing slightly, starting off quietly singing, though gradually getting louder and louder, until people start throwing things at me to try and stop the music: "you know we're just beginning, to understand the miracle of living, I know I was scared before, but I'm not AFRAID ANYMORE!!! OOOH BABY DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT'S WORTH? OOOH HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH!"

I know no shame.

The mother of all parties

We had our 6th Annual Australia Day (now with added Witangi Day) BBQ party on Saturday night for possibly the last time ever. What with The Flatmate moving back to Oz, and me moving into my new apartment, both of us are leaving our current mother of all parties house for much more sensible, grown up, less teenage abodes. Our flat does seriously rock when it comes to throwing a damn fine knees up mother brown shindig, as we seem to be able to make as much noise as we like, make as much smoke as we like from numerous bbq's on the balconies, party on until 7am, play singstar and screech so loud you could hear it about 1/2 a mile away (apparently), and we still know no fear of our neighbours complaining or calling the cops. We think this mostly has to do with the fact that our neighbours aren't legally allowed to live in their "flat" because it's zoned to be an office, and not as a house, and since we hate them, we really don't care. (Childish? Oh yes, absolutely).

As it was a bbq, I prepared all the food on Friday night before going out, so we had tandoori lamb, pork tocino, big fat chorizo sausages and adobo chicken. I figured everyone else would bring all the standard fair of bangers and vege crap anyway. And as it was a celebration of all things antipodean, I made a pavlova (well, two in fact because I started to make it after I had a few drinks and then my friend C and I got the temperatures wrong, and baked it at 250C not 250F... we only noticed it's blackened charcoal like texture when the fire alarm went off... ooh masterchef, eat your heart out!). My friend from Oz C made some delicious Anzac biscuits, and a mate P made lamingtons. It's amazing when you immigrate to another country how it's the little things like snack foods and deserts, which you can get freely in your home country, but after years way, are the ones that make the biggest impact on you.. each bite of a lamington or an anzac brings back feelings of nostalgia for backyard swimming pools, scorching summers in December, cicadas, and friends and family... The humble pavlova is enough to make grown antipodean men weep (and grown antipodean women quake with fear of demolishing the whole cream laden thing and growing sideways...).


This years Aussie day bbq was definitely one of our most successful ones to date. Starting at 6pm, it ended with the last few scragglers leaving our house to a rising sun at 7am.. Loads of drinks, food, and of course the obligatory singstar all made their mark over the 13 hours of parting down.. If it seems that singstar is all we do at our shindigs, well... you'd be damn right. I now seem to own every single one of those damn kareoke playstation games, and they are so fucking addictive! There is nothing more fantastic than watching your friends try to battle it out and out sing each other on cheesy classics like "Gold" by Spandau Ballet, "Little Respect" by Erasure (DAMN YOU MAGIC! He beat me by only a tiny fraction.. i swear that man practices!), and my person favorite "Sweet Home Alabama" (yeehaw!). One of our directors from work came with his wife, and at 5 am, after we'd turned the playstation off, jumped up, mic in hand and said "COME ON GUYS! We have to crank it up! Let's start singing!!". You have to understand, we only started up again because he's the boss, and not because we're sados... Fuck it, I don't care, I'm not proud. I love singstar. What I love about is that it's the people who come over and think that it's going to be really sad and pathetic are always the ones that end up releasing their secret rock god, complete with Pete Townsend style windmilling, finishing songs with a rock and roll arm in the air, head held high, score way down low... it's so much fun!

My top 5 for this year's party is:

1. None of our furniture caught on fire (unlike one year, when ignited absinthe spilled out all over our coffee table!)
2. Everyone who threw up did it either outside or in the toilet (unlike last year.. very very messy... )
   
3. There are reports of people not recovering until 5pm Sunday night
   
4. I didn't pass out, wake up at 5 in my bed, still in my clothes, and think "oh, the party's over! And everyones gone home!"
5. Dr K, who is one of the worst singers alive, who still loves doing it anyway, decided to trash talk one of the girls from work, who was so excited about singstar.. As she warbled away, he yelled out "Come on! Try and sing at least one note!", to which she turned around, screamed "I'm trying my best!" and then threw the mic straight at his head... That really makes me giggle!
   

I'll post some pictures tomorrow, some of which are priceless... Least of which is one of our friends in the "sex hat" (a leather biggles hat someone brought to our place years ago, but which neither the Flatmate or myself can come around to touching to give it back to them, because it really, really, really does look like a gimp mask...), my "high maintenance mask" and pavlova all over his face...

Ah, what a fantastic way to celebrate Australia Day...

Your Friday Moment of Zen: Happy Australia Day....

Well it's Australia Day today, or if you're aboriginal it's "Invasion Day", when white settlers came to decimate your people, destroy your culture, and kill your homeland.

Anyway, since it's Australia Day, and I'm a wee bit homesick, I was trying to find all things aussie related on YouTube.. then I stumbled across this... It's cheesy badness makes it very, very amusing, and for some reason this kid's done a video of the crappy suburb that I come from, Cherrybrook (why is there a wiki page on Cherrybrook??? I really don't understand). If you do watch this, I live just down the road from the roundabout near the shopping centre... I actually think this kids backyard is right near my house.....

If this is not your cup of tea, then I've included this one below, which is a) a timelapse video of sydney b) a shamless advertisment for some guys website.



Just one last thing, I do not actually know the kid who made the cheesy doco, but I do sincerely appologise for his mispronounciation of Nova Scotia... I'm cringing all the way from London.

Friday Moment of Zen: All things aussie and cheesy bad.

Barely Breathing

Some things should come with health warnings: cigarettes, alcohol, intravenous drugs, the Amelie soundtrack.

I've been listening to this for about a week non stop at work. I love Amélie (où <<Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain>>) the movie, MAIS la musique du film... Mon dieu!

Composed by Yann Tiersen, it is a great and quirky soundtrack, with haunting piano solos and very Gallic sounding, 1930's pieces, that work amazingly well with the film to help conjure up the dreamlike world of the main character, and I really do love every single track on the album.. But what I don't understand is how people can review this soundtrack as making them feel good, because all I feel is a sadness so thick that I can barely conjure up the energy to breath, and all I want to do is disappear to Paris for months on end, drinking café's and be by myself.

And here I go, hitting the play button again. Sigh.

Your Friday Moment of Zen: Small Retraction

I blogged the other day that I accidentally picked up a pair of Calv's boxers that were on his desk. Well, I've gotten no end of bitching from him about this, so I am retracting this blog by stating:

1. I picked up shorts because apparently they are not in fact boxers
   and
   
2. He does not have cooties.
   

So to apologise for the fact that his mother called him up and said "why are there things on the Internet about your underpants? What have you been doing?", I've decided to put up this MasterCard advertisement with some dude who plays American football which Calv has been hassling me to post for months now.

Your Friday Moment of Zen: D-Caff.

I dunno, I've had it explained, and while I do get it, I'm not laughing my arse off.

Enjoy!

I didn't fucking buy it on Ebay

I'm just a little annoyed.

I used to like ebay. I, however, have just had one of those annoying ebay experiences, where I've spent all fucking week waiting to bid on particular item. I'd go to ebay every damned day to check if anyone had put a bid on. Then, tonight, as the auction was ending, I very, very, very, paitently waited, much like a guerilla in the jungle waiting for the kill, for the last possible second to bid for my item, constantly refreshing the god damned screen, glowing with the belief that I'd actually won the stupid thing, only get outbid 8 fucking seconds before the fucking auction fucking ends.

Fuck fuck fuck.

So to you Miss Bitch Whore SwissBlahBlah or whatever the fuck your called, I hope you like that god damn fucking book. And I want you to know that because of you orphans will cry. Angels will weep. And it's very likely that puppies, kittens & rabbits will get kicked all shades of blue.

Thanks a fucking lot. Stupid crappy ebay.