a little distraction

Not Missing.

Hi!

So, blog etiquette lesson learned. When you decide to take a bit of a leave of absence you have to let people KNOW otherwise they very sweetly get a bit worried. I wouldn't even have realised if I hadn't been reading Anonymous Lefty's post about good stand by take away food while scarfing down a burger and deciding that I should tell him how good a burger with Brie can be.

Hi!

I didn't get lost in the wilds of Byron although there was an unfortunate incident involving too much beer, a total loss of direction and two hours wandering aroung Byron Bay Industrial Estate trying to find the house myself and A were staying in, but the four months that have passed have erased that pain.

The main reason I went very quiet for a while was because I went back to my beloved England to surprise my family for my Mama's birthday and, as my brother reads this blog, was trying to keep schtum which I find VERY DIFFICULT so instead of spilling the big secret, I said nothing at all. For four months. I finally got permanent residency of Australia, my best friend got married and I managed to be a well behaved bridesmaid, I turned 25 and I missed blogging about an entire season of Australian Idol and I've had to throw out so many "witty" anecdotes about Kyle Sandilands and that horrendous little psudo-punk Lee Harding that I have all this bitterness just seeping through my veins. It's been tough.

Oh, and I got this crazy cool promotion at work which rocks my world because I no longer spend 5 hours a day being too bored to even summon the will to read TWoP recaps and has turned me into a career woman. I don't know how it happened. I've lost the urge to slack off but will do my best to find the slacker within and update more often. I've missed writing here.

So, how is everybody?

Stupid, stupid, STUPID.

I have done a lot of stupid things in  my life. I know, everyone does stupid stuff and I’m pretty sure that everyone reading this could reel off the at least 5 things they’ve done in the past that make them, upon recolection, clasp their hand to their forehead and go, “Seriously, self, what the fuck were you thinking?” But today, I realised that I have a new crowning achievement in stupidity perhaps only surpassed by Dumb Things I’ve Done After Drinking Vodka but that’s entirely another matter.

When I received my piece of paper from the post office informing me that my ticket to the completely sold out Splendour in the Grass had arrived at the local post office I, in my INIFINITE WISDOM owing to the 6 hours a week the stupid place is open, left a note out to my housemate asking her if she could pick it up while she was at work. I didn’t get any verbal confirmation from her and because there have been a lot of other things going on in my life I completely forgot to ask her where the ticket was.

See where this is going?

She, and I state now that this debacle is in now way her fault because it was my responsibility and she wasn’t to know that I am the Queen of Stupid, didn’t pick up the ticket. And it wasn’t until this morning (two days before I leave for Byron Bay) that I asked her about the ticket. She had no idea what I was talking about. I called the post office as soon as I got into work and found out my precious pass to a weekend of rock and roll fun was returned to sender A MONTH AGO. In my panic, I ran down to Exhibition St to visit the Ticketek agency and blathered at the incredibly nice woman there until she informed me there was no record of my purchasing a ticket.

I freaked out. My life as a Ryan Adams groupie passed before my eyes. And then I remembered that I bought the ticket online through the Splendour in the Grass website. I apologised profusely to the kind woman for wasting her time, raced back to the office, searched my Gmail account for confirmation, and have now emailed the OTHER ticket office begging for mercy and offering ANYTHING if they can just find my ticket and get it to me by Saturday.

STUPID. Anyway, please keep your fingers crossed that the ticket turns up. I promise I’ve learnt my lesson. Sort of. GAH!

UPDATE:

The LOVELY people at Ticketing Solutions just called to inform me that my ticket to Splendour in the Grass was safely returned to them and that they are kindly going to express it down to me today.

I LOVE PEOPLE.

AHAHAHAHAHAAAA. I get to go and see all the lovely bands.

Okay, so the moral of the story is to always pick up stuff from the post office straight away. Oh, and that sometimes people are just awesome. Whee!

I really need to get one of those life things all the cool kids talk about...

Dear Channel 7,

Firstly, I would like to say a hearty Thank You for finally putting 24 back on the air. Bless you. I missed the velvety tones of Kiefer Sutherland and realized in the middle of the nine month hiatus that even the scene where he realizes he needs a human head to placate a mob boss, storms into a holding cell, shoots a (very evil, totally had it coming) fellow that Hot!Tony is in the middle of interrogating and, in the middle of the ensuing chaos, simply growls “I’m going to need a hacksaw” gets old eventually. And last night was delicious. Jack Bauer in a suit, kicking things over, and being bossy. I swooned.

Now, here’s the rub. 24 is four seasons old and while I thought the premise would have worn out by now, the show operates as effectively as it ever has even though you can pretty much guarantee that anyone sweet, sympathetic, or involved with Jack Bauer is going to wind up dead. Even so, it's not a show that dumbs down to it's audience so what in hell was the point of having a TIMER pop up every 5 minutes during the show informing us that "Everything Changes In 45 minutes and 15 seconds"! "Everything Changes in 27 minutes and 32 seconds"! YOU DON’T SAY! There’s going to be a twist at the end of an episode of 24? No shit! Thank you, Captain Obvious! Wow, I definitely won’t switch over to Big Brother Uncut if EVERYTHING CHANGES in just a few minutes. I could tune back in and CTU LA could have switched to Clown Training University, Louisiana! GAH. Stupid.

This is the sort of crap that makes people turn to torrents to get a fix of their favourite shows. Also, if any of you run into the plonkers at Channel 9, I’m still mad that Gilmore Girls isn’t back.

Yours sincerely,

Carrie

London still

DSCF0014
Originally uploaded by Ms.Carrie.

A few people at work have checked in with me this morning and enquired how everyone at home is.

I hear myself trying to express how terrified I was when Kai called me last night and falteringly told me that there had been a terrorist attack on London and how crap I feel now but the words don't come out right. My phone was going all night with text messages from friends both in the UK and Australia. People checking on mutual friends, family letting me know they had managed to get home safely, and friends reassuring me not to panic. I could have put the phone on silent but there was something affirming in every message I received. I care. We’re okay. Going to work tomorrow as normal. Love you.

I’m foggy with lack of sleep today but there's a few things that I do have total clarity on: I love London. I love the people, I love Hyde Park, I love Liverpool St Station, I love riding on double decker buses, I love the tube, I love black cabs, I love greasy spoon cafes with deathly strong coffee, I love the laneways and the bridges, I love the architecture, I love the Tower of London and the Natural History museum, I love the diversity, the strength and good old Tottenham Hotspur. I hate being 10,000 miles away and, terrorist attacks on public transport be damned, I would move back there tomorrow.

speechless

The nightmare scenario.

Seriously, my all time nightmare. An attack on my home. My city where my oldest friends and my fantastic family work during rush hour. An attack on my beautiful city the day after we got the Olympics.

I've just spent a horrific hour trying to call my Dad, my Mum, my sweet brother on his GODDAMN BIRTHDAY, and my sweet girls who travel on the Circle line everyday and I am so relieved to say that I've managed to get onto them all.

Now I'm angry, I'm devastated, and I'm sad. You know, I don't even know why I'm writing now except I can't have my happy Yay London 2012 post at the top of the screen.

Reason 137 to move back to England...

London wins the rights to host the 2012 Olympic Games! Hurrah! Yay!

The news came through about 30 minutes ago and I've received a number of messages from my sweet friends:

Matt: "SUCK IT FRENCHIES HAHAHAHAHAA."

Kai and Gede: "Yay! Holiday! Can we please stay at your place? Floor is fine xx"

A: "I'm guessing Matt's already booked his place..."

Feldz (live from London): "CHAMPIONS!"

Alex (who I was speaking with on my home phone to when Matt sent the first message): "Huh? They vote on that? I thought countries just took it in turns..."

Matt: "THE ONLY THING THE FRENCH ARE GOOD FOR IS A CROQUE MONSIEUR! HAHAHA. VICTORY!"

On Live8

What an incredible event Live8 was.

The performances I enjoyed the most where, without question, ones by artists who performed at the first Live Aid in 1985. Madonna, my beloved U2, Elton, and when Bob Geldof sang I Don't Like Mondays and paused after "And the lesson today is how to die...", the exact same point in the song as he did 20 years ago, and the crowd roared their approval I felt like hugging my television.

(Sadly, Richard Wilkins came on screen shortly afterwards and briefly dampened my love for all mankind. Shut it, Wilkins.)

live8

Voldemort can't stop the rock.

In Year 9 I had a CDT* teacher called Mr Eckers who announced to my class of 14 year old girls that “You’ve never truly lived until you’ve drawn a daisy with your compass.” We all exchanged perplexed expressions, quickly used our compasses to, as instructed, draw daisies, and upon completion, sat back and felt a little disappointed that life really didn’t seem that much more exciting. Later on, this became a stupid in joke. Someone feeling down and out? Clearly hasn’t drawn a daisy with a compass! And so it went. We also used to talk about poor Mr Eckers for whom the most exciting thing in the world was drawing a flower with a mathematical device when, obviously, the most exciting thing in the world would actually be snogging Robbie Williams! Or being a Spice Girl. Man, to be 14 again…

I think I’ve now, ten years later, come up with my own version of Mr Eckers compass-sketched daisy; You seriously have not lived until you have listened to Harry and the Potters WHILE reading one of the Harry Potter books. This morning, I listened to The Human Hosepipe while reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and finally got the sort of sensation that dear Mr Eckers must have after drawing a really awesome daisy, the old hippy.

* Craft, Design, and Technology - where all I truly learnt for two years was how not to use a glue gun.

Things to do today

• Write letter appealing public transport fine. Try to avoid using the word "Arsehole" when describing fine nazi's clever tactics.
• Give it up already and cancel gym membership. Last month's membership worked out at around $1.24 a MINUTE.
• Substitute herbal tea for coffee.
• Practice looking happy and excited for when you have to persuade co-workers how much fun the work weekend away will be.
• Bribe co-workers who were sober enough to remember last work weekend away.
• Make science

One out of six ain't bad.

Final Uni Finalist

Congratulations to my little uni finalist who yesterday got his uni results and celebrated by getting drunk and ranting on his blog:

"Fuck '96 Tears', 'Lies' and 'Stryichnine'. 'Steppin' Stone' should have been the first port of call for all the teeny boppers currently polluting the airwaves including the Cheeto-bearing Mrs Spears, Jackass-banging Mrs Simpson and the omnipresent victim of all cultural viruses infecting this gigantic stress ball known as Earth Ms Lohan. Lavigne would be included in this list but her nouveau punk chic is so unbearably grating that it is probably best not to give her fuel for her continued existence."

I am so proud of my little music snob! Almost too proud to point out that I think he meant to refer to the Spears-Federline offspring as the Cheetus, not the Cheeto.

We had a brief chat on MSN this morning discussing his plan to become the next Lester Bangs, never ever enter a classroom again, and spend the entire summer telling his lovely girlfriend how pretty she is because he’s a sensitive rock god like that. My favourite part of the conversation went like this:

Carrie says:
congrats on result - how do you feel?
Strawberry Fool says:
Pissed off at lack of work in 2nd year
Carrie says:
yeah, being pasta eating prince of Persia playing indie god will get you in the end
Strawberry Fool says:
teehee
Strawberry Fool says:
Mum and Dad must never see my blog.

This cracks me up because my brother was the GOLDEN CHILD growing up. He was one of those annoying swots who barely looked glanced at a textbook but Knew All. His uni result is excellent but if he hadn’t spent his entire second year, as he admits freely to anyone who is not one of our parents, mooning around it could have been even better. Of course, our parents think the pressure got to him, that he got stressed, and had women trouble when really he was living off rum and rock and roll and not studying. Just like his big sister!

Uni Finalist, I could not ask for a cooler, a funnier, or a braver little brother. I salute you. And when you become the next Lester Bangs you had better hook me up with free music and work on setting me up with Ryan Adams.