a little distraction

Palm, meet forehead!

Ah, is there anything like sending a heap of documentation off to the printers and THEN finding a typo? The ensuing swearing when I realised what I'd done was most impressive.

That said, it's a pretty tiny typo and also, if caught, faintly hilarious.

The phrase was supposed to read: 'Please fill in all fields marked with an asterisk (*)'.

Instead, it reads: 'Please fill in all fields marked with an Asterix (*)'.

 

Yup, as in Asterix the Gaul. I wonder how many users will catch that mistake. The silliest part is that I remember seeing it flagged when I perfomed a spell-check but I ignored it thinking, for whatever reason, that it was just the dumb spell-checker thinking it was Yankee again. Not stupid spell-checker: stupid Carrie!

Although I partially blame my family, in particular my brother, for the repeated viewings of The Twelve Tasks of Asterix, the trip to Parc Asterix (which TOTALLY pisses on every other theme park I have ever been to), and love of all things Obelix which have clearly warped me for life. Bless you all.

Phinnaeus Fogg

Carrie says: ooh – from news.com.au – Julia Roberts gave birth to twins Hazel Patricia Moder and Phinnaeus Walter Moder on Sunday morning US time (overnight AEDT) at a Southern California hospital, publicist Marcy Engelman said today.
Carrie says: Phinnaeus??
Amy says: as in Fogg?
Carrie says: No, you’re thinking of Phileas.
Amy says: ha
Amy says: Phinnaeus….good god, that’s an, uh, interesting name
Carrie says: Perhaps Phin/Finn for short?
Amy says: perhaps….
Carrie says: Not worst celebrity baby name ever though
Amy says: hmm, worse than Apple, better than Audio Science
Carrie says: hee!!

Meme

One of the many really good things about Jeremy at Melbourne Lefty is that he has a little note next to his links politely asking people to let him know if any of the blogs he has listed don't update for a couple of weeks so he can keep his links current. The great thing about this for me is that it now scares me into coming out of hiding when I'm not feeling like posting for any number of reasons to post, post, post so I stay listed.

Yes, I know. Sad, sad, sad.

Normal posting to resume once I have recovered from the total whammy of one of dearest friends from the UK visiting for 3 weeks, our subsequent weekend of FUN in Sydney (which, sadly, didn't occur near Grogblogging), and half my extended family swooping on Melbourne which was lovely but does involve a certain amount of playing tour guide.

If I never have to go to Pin Oak Court again, it will be too damn soon.

So, in the name of content, here's a questionnaire that I borrowed from my favourite photoblogger, Heather.

Best household chore
Folding clothes. The combination of my years of working retail and my admiration for my mother’s piles of immaculately folded clothes in COLOUR ORDER (pretty!) have given me a knack for being able to display clothes beautifully. While the rest of my room can be a pigsty, I always have neat shelves and drawers. They’re like the clothing equivalent of that beautiful experiment at a bookstore in San Francisco where books were arranged by colour instead of title, category, or author.

Fantasy career
Features Editor at UK Elle. Silly, shallow high fashion and celebrities.

Favorite place to shop
Genki, MDFI, Target, JB Hi Fi, Gaslight Records, Simon Johnson, Harvey Nichols, and TOP SHOP.

Superstitions
Touching my collar when an ambulance or fire engine whizzes past.

Morning routine
When I wake up on time: Hit snooze on alarm at least twice, drink coffee, watch Sunrise while eating cereal, shower, put on make up, get dressed, catch train, grab take out coffee, start work.
When I wake up late: Get dressed, run out door, catch last train, grab breakfast and coffee, start work breathless and dishevelled.

Evening routine
Very few constants exist in my evening routine apart from wiping off my make up with one of the cleansing towels that I keep next to my bed because I am far too lazy to actually get out of bed and mess around with cotton balls and lotion after midnight and then going to sleep listening to music. Can’t get to sleep unless I’ve got music playing.

Favorite memento
A panoramic shot I took of Venice from the roof of my youth hostel when I was about 15. I’ve stuck it up on a wall in every house I’ve lived in since.

Favorite place in the house
Our psudo balcony. It has no safety railing and is a total death trap but, as long as we stay away from it after a drink or six, it’s a lovely place to catch the sun in the afternoon.

Best thing about being you
My record collection.

What's your reputation
Trivia queen, organiser of outings, likes a drink, likes a laugh, public transport aficionado, Proud Pom. Favorite movie Impossible to pick.

Book to recommend
The Godfather. Classic, brilliant, and engrossing.

Your welcome mat
Heh. Um, I mean, we don’t have one.

Little big toy
My Fuji FinePix digi. I’ve had it for 2 years and it ain’t too flash but I love it.

Last meal
Rice paper rolls, a Thai salad with sweet potato fritters and just the right amount of sweet chilli sauce (e.g. a shitload), too many wasabi peas and Lemon Meringue Pie. It was a good friend’s birthday dinner last night and she cooked the whole thing from scratch herself – what a woman!

Technology item you can't live without
Email. Email. Email. With 90% of my family and friends 10,000 miles away email is a godsend.

Idea of the perfect party
Oooh. My friends, red wine and imported beers, an iPod FULL of great music, a beer garden, a dance floor, a never ending supply of vegetarian canapés and a shirtless Robbie Williams providing the entertainment.

Topic you wouldn't bring up at a party
Old grudges.

Fictional character you most identify with
Honestly, Bridget Jones. The book version of Bridget Jones, naturally, as the second Bridget Jones movie was a bloody disgrace. Even I’m not that wacky. Most of the time.

Favorite decorating technique
Photos, colour, neatly stacked piles of things, and magazines and books everywhere.

Thing in your house you're fussiest about
Bathroom cleanliness. Not much that's grosser than a filthy loo. See Trainspotting.

Procrastination technique
God bless the internet.

Guilty pleasure
Gin and Tonics before bedtime and Robbie Williams.

What's by your bedside
A picture of my Mama, Goodnight Babylon, The Nanny Diaries, face wipes, about six pens, and my stereo remote control.

Pets
The world’s most perfect creature.

Recent purchase
One of those little air hostess cabin suitcase things. Oh, I am such the sophisticated traveller!

Always in the fridge
Diet Coke, cheese, beer, abandoned salad leaves, leftovers, sweet chilli sauce, and chocolate.

Nagging injury
A torn tendon in my right foot which plays up whenever I run.

Collections
Snowglobes, vintage jewellery, and anything sold by JB Hi FI.

Fitness routine
Frequent long walks and occasional gym visits.

Recurring nightmare
I wake up at least twice a week with the sensation that I just fell into bed from a great height. It always freaks me out.

Idea of a perfect day
See Idea of the perfect party

Obligatory Birthday Post

Mine is not as glamorous or life-changing but I remember reading Krissa’s list of 23 things she did in her 23^rd year and thinking that I’d attempt something similar when I hit 24. Let’s try, shall we?

1.       Watched England beat Australia in the Rugby World Cup final in a pub full of Australians. Narrowly avoided being massacred.

2.       Completed my Masters.

3.       Wept with relief at completing my Masters.

4.       Helped my two of my best friends plan their engagement party.

5.       Overcome my pathological fear of speaking in public to deliver a heartfelt speech in front of 100 people at said engagement party.

6.       Looked at K & G and thought “Ah, that’s what a real relationship looks like” and finally ended things with He Who Shall Not Be Named.

7.       Spent Christmas in Singapore with my family.

8.       Returned to Melbourne full of purpose.

9.       Spent two months lying on my sofa in my pyjamas trying to find full time employment.

10.   Watched the first 2 seasons of 24 in two days.

11.   Moved out of my flat.

12.   Finally found a full time, scary, grown up job.

13.   Had my oldest friend visit me for three weeks.

14.   Applied for Australian residency.

15.   Fallen in love with someone I shouldn’t have fallen in love with and then fallen out of love just as fast as I fell in.

16.   Kissed people I really shouldn’t have kissed.

17.   Hosted the luscious grilian Granny Elmo and her lovely man, The Brick, for a fun winter weekend.

18.   Moved out of the flat into a house. A real house with a backyard!

19.   Caught election fever in the worst possible way.

20.   Spent everything I’ve earned.

21.   Called my Mama every week.

22.   Spent my last night as a 23 year old with four of the very best friends could have and realised that I may be single, I may not have the job of my dreams, and things may not be going quite as I planned but I am exactly where I need to be right now. That fucking rocks.

23.   Loved every second of it, baby.

Teenage Kicks

I stopped keeping a personal diary about a year ago. I’d kept it on and off since I was about 13 but I’d reached the stage where reading old entries was too hard. There was just too much typically teenage, whinging, badly written angst.

I mean, I used to copy Fiona Apple lyrics into my journal to signify my adolescent PAIN. There is no excuse for that. In fact, that might just be the single most embarrassing thing I’ve ever confessed to. “Never is a promise that you can’t afford to lie” – JESUS, I thought that was deep.

There were also three years worth of entries where I wrote very erratically but, when I did write, it was all about my, now ex, boyfriend – He Who Shall Not Be Named. Reading back on those entries now is the literary equivalent of being strapped in a steel chair in a dark room and being forced to listen to Vanessa Amorosi songs on repeat for the rest of my natural life. Frankly, there isn’t a Fiona Apple lyric dark enough to signify that kind of pain.

So, I stopped keeping a diary and started blogging which is way more fun because I actually think about what I write in terms of being accountable. I think about the stuff that I write and how it will read back in a few months time which stops me, most of the time, from writing something which will cripple me with embarrassment in the not so distant future.

For example, when I was 13 I wrote word for word, in my oh so cool Naf Naf diary, the following:

I would like to marry Robbie Williams or Mark Owen when I grow up. Well if I ever decide to get married I will marry one of them. But I don’t think I want to get married or have kids until I’m much older. Maybe when I’m about 24 I will start thinking about that. That’s probably a good age. I will have done plenty of stuff by then.

When I read that entry on the weekend I freaked out because I remember that time when 24 seemed so grown up and mature.

Today is my birthday. I am 24. HOLY CRAP.

Sodding Liberals....

Oh for god's sake.

I was totally not going to post about Politics ANYMORE for at least a week but we, the lefty bloggers of this fair nation, are under attack from the sodding Liberals.

Some horsey Melbourne Uni Liberal (my least favourite breed of Liberal - I had the misfortune to go to school with too many people who turned into them) who professes to be a fan of Andrew Bolt is threatening everybody's favourite polichick and number one internet crush, the hilarious Ms Fits.

Miranda Airey-Bosworth came to Fitsy's attention after she was featured in The Age as one of the Young Liberals who posed as Green supporters on election day to try and trick potential green voters into voting Liberal. How clever! The article also mentioned that Miranda had a Livejournal (so cutting edge!) where she posted a lot about horses, disliking prudes, her tits, and fake tan. Fascinating! Ms Fits was most excited by all this as she thought that she might just have a nemesis on her hands.

Sadly, Miranda took down her webdiary as soon as she received a couple of negative comments and is now threatening to sue Ms Fits for being so mean. Wuss.

As Darp said, this show-jumper really picked a bad time to piss the left off.

For more on this story, Rob Corr's coverage is, as Darp also said, excellent.

This is so totally West Side Story. I bags the Left are the Jets - they were so much cooler.

UPDATE: Andrew Bolt has weighed in with a Herald Sun column on Ms Fits!!!! Pure lunacy.

UPDATE 2: It just keep getting better.

Four More Years

There was a funny sense of Déjà vu at the bar last night. We’d shut off work stations at 5.30pm, forcing ourselves to let go of the tenuous hope we’d carried for the last few months. My good friend, Rich, put his hand on my shoulder, made me stop refreshing CNN, and go have a beer.

The usual suspects were there. My excellent, well-informed, and hilarious friends with whom I have happily shared every morsel of information about this election and the Australian election over the last year.

“What are we going to talk about now?”, one joked.

“Clinton/Obama 2008!” I replied, half serious as I stared into my empty glass.

A friend’s girlfriend kindly put her hand on my shoulder and commented that she felt like she kept seeing me in my weakest moments. I smiled and said that, in the last year anyway, that was probably true. The same group who were gathered around a map of the US scribbling on states, trying to figure if there was any chance of a draw, were gathered in a smoky bar in Brunswick to watch England crash out of the European Championships earlier this year. Most of us sat in another bar on October 9th too disappointed by Howard’s re-election to speak.

I know that comparing the result of a football match with what happened on October 9th and yesterday is a little glib but I seem to have the same sort of sinking feeling to these events. Maybe it explains why I care the way I do.

I support England’s stupid football team. I support Mark Latham and the ALP. I support John Kerry and the Democrats. I wanted them all to win. I put an equal amount of time into researching everything about them and trying to work out scenarios where could have won. I invest. A colleague joked yesterday, when I jumped up form my desk and did a pre-emptive victory dance at seeing the Ohio Exit Polls (STUPID!!), “It’s just a game”.

I immediately turned to him, like the smart arse I am, and paraphrased the late, great, Liverpool manager, Bill Shankly: Politics isn’t a matter of life and death. It is much, much more important than that.

It was strange to come into work this morning and not immediately turn to Electoral Vote.

Four more years? My only comfort is that Bush and Cheney will have to clean up the giant mess that they have made.

Another nail biting day

Oh man.

I can't cope with POLITICS today. I truly can't. Whose bright idea was it to hold a HUGELY significant election on Melbourne Cup Day? I mean, I'm sitting at my desk trying to hold down water and everything I'm reading as the polls come in from the US is making me even more nauseous.

Flashbacks to skulling champagne out of a red wine glass around 4pm yesterday after losing money on the Melbourne Cup are not helping either. Although the fact that the boys I got into a drinking contest with had to go home shortly afterwards does bring a smile to my pale, shiny face.

My poor work colleagues. They not only have to endure my hangover ("Wow, you sound like you're going to die any second!") but will have to endure me clicking 'Refresh' on CNN all day and swearing like a sailor with Tourettes.

There's a lot of amazing pieces being written about this election by very smart, articulate, American bloggers. I highly recommend reading some of them today. I'm just going to be under my desk, sipping coffee, and praying for a Kerry/Edwards victory.