a little distraction

Big! Day! Out!

I was kind of dreading the Big Day Out. I haven’t been to a big festival or all day concert in way too long and was feeling a bit past it and square. When I first arrived and saw a gaggle of girls with those bizarre legwarmers that tie below your knee and then flare down to your ankle which I used to wear to concerts when I was 16 I looked down at the skirt-birkenstock combination I was wearing and felt inexplicably over the hill. Never mind that those legwarmer things are hideous and I have had all photos of me wearing them BURNT, I suddenly wanted a pair!

The old fart feeling multiplied when I was standing in the beer garden with my friends and it was all a bit too civilised. We were standing in the sun, drinking beer, watching The Hives on the video screen through the fence, and having a nice chat. Then one of us remarked how good it was, now that we’re older and more mature, that we don’t feel like we have to rush around catching every single second of every band on the bill who we’ve ever heard of and wasn’t it nice that we could, you know, actually have a conversation.

I suddenly thought back to my misspent youth when I would happily fling myself into a mosh pit and rock out at the Falls Festival, Offshore, and the Big Day Out. Now I’m standing in the beer garden, sipping away, catching up with friends, and wearing shoes that would inevitably lead to a broken toe if I got within a metre of the mosh. Huh. I think similar thoughts flashed through the heads of all my friends as we shared a glance of shame, swiftly downed our beers, fled the beer garden, and went to do what you’re supposed to do at a festival, dammit. We rocked out like we were 18 again and it was damn good fun. I even ran into a friend from high school, who had been my partner in crime when we used to try to sneak into The Corner every weekend, during Grinspoon’s set and she told me I hadn’t changed. Ha.

Assorted highlights:

• Spiderbait performing “Old Man Sam” and my best friend completely losing her shit.
• The magical Polyphonic Spree who were definitely worth missing most of the Beastie Boys for.
• The adorable Town Bikes.
• The Hives’ outfits - damn, I love a sharply dressed musician!
• Eskimo Joe who I’ve loved ever since their awkward performance of “Sweater” at the Falls Festival in 1998.
• The delicious vegetarian pizza I scarfed down after the Hilltop Hoods. Mmm, pizza.
• Finding a commemorative beer can in my purse when I got to work this morning.
• My super hot trucker tan/sunburn from being in the sun all day in a vest - I am no longer the palest person in Melbourne.

I’m tired today but, when I took part in the weekend gossip round up this morning, it felt damn good to be the only staff member who didn’t go to Ikea or Bunnings at the weekend. Rock on. I can't wait for next year.

Is Friday the new Monday?

0600: Phone alarm goes off. Phone alarm beaten into submission.

0607: Phone alarm goes off again. Phone is thrown across room.

0614: Phone alarm goes off AGAIN. I get up and rummage for phone to shut it up. Catch sight of self in mirror and try not to scream. What, on first sight, appears to be the volcanic spot from hell is actually a mosquito bite. In the middle of my forehead. At least it matches the thirty or so mosquito bites elsewhere on my body. I pinch my forehead trying to suss out why a mosquito would even bite there when there is much more juicy, English flesh (read: one fat arse) elsewhere.

0720: Halfway through doing my hair my faithful hair straightening companion of the last four years, Muster, suddenly fizzles and appears to dramatically pass away. I am left with frizzy hair and a broken heart. Frizzy hair and a mosquito bite in the middle of my forehead. Hot stuff!

0755: As I’m running to catch the early train, some prick in a suit accidentally treads on the back of my sandal and sends me flying. I gather myself together and retrieve my shoe while the back of shoe treader hops on the train and grabs the last seat without so much as a glance in my shabby, sprawled direction.

0805: I pull out my book and suddenly realise that I’ve left my glasses at home. Great! Now I’m going to be frizzy, red, and squinty all day! I just get hotter and hotter! Woooo!

0810: After five minutes of brain racking I realise what else I’ve left at home – my flash drive containing all my notes on the mega important, has to be finished by COB today document that I was working on till midnight. Now I’m frizzy, red, squinty, and totally dead. Fuuuuuck.

0825: Barrelling down the street to work I literally run into a parking meter. I hear laughter behind me but just keep walking thinking to myself that at least this will make a good anecdote at work.

0845: My favourite coworker takes one look at me and offers to make me coffee. I hug him. Then I tell him about me walking into a parking meter and he laughs for a good minute and then asks if I could re-enact it for his amusement at lunchtime. I throw my pink highlighter at his head.

0855: Check comments section and find a bitchy comment, my first nasty one apart from a couple of bizarre emails a while back from a fervent Bush supporter. After all the stupid crap that’s already happened so far this morning it throws me for a loop until I perform a search and find it’s from an anonymous IP address. I go and read Dooce’s recent post about dealing with crap like this and feel better.

0901: Look up ‘Mosquito bites’ on WebMD to try and find natural remedy for the RELENTLESS itching.

0905: Finish reading not entirely soothing article on the charming West Nile disease.

0906: Hide under desk. Pray for day to end.

I never thought I'd be so attracted to a man called Clive....

I saw Closer last night and left the cinema feeling a very heady mixture of emotions; I felt nauseous, inspired, homesick, impressed, and totally fucking lusty towards Clive Owen. Dear GOD, that man needs to be signed up as the new James Bond immediately to a) stop all the bloody speculation about who is going to play Bond and b) guarantee me at least 3 more films where he wears a suit and acts all devastatingly rakish and English and super hot.

Shallowness aside, it was an exceptional film. Julia Roberts and Natalie Portman, both of whom usually leave me cold, were oddly effective while Jude Law and the latest addition to my personal Top 5*, Mr Owen, were fantastic.

It’s not an easy film to watch. There were a couple of moments where I felt uncomfortable to be watching such emotionally intimate scenes. One scene in particular mirrored, very accurately and painfully, a situation I once found myself in and I almost had to leave the cinema.

It’s a clever film, one that shows the moments in relationships that don’t normally get airtime. It plays out the really nasty moments I think most couples experience that are often too private and difficult to talk about because people who aren’t you or your partner couldn’t understand. It’s an intimate, dense, and fascinating film. And, I think I mentioned, Clive Owen is just divine. Oh, and for the lads, Natalie Portman dances round in a G String. Something for all the family! Go see.

18 things

9 things I miss about England

Top row (l-r): My local pub, the weather necessitating the wearing of my fabulous knee high boot everyday, and my Grils.
Middle row (l-r): Bobble hats, the world’s most perfect creature, and my brother constantly strumming his guitar.
Bottom row (l-r): Tramping round London taking random photos, watching cribbage matches, and SCAMPI.

9 reasons I’m glad to be back in Australia

Top row (l-r): The weather necessitating the wearing of my super comfy Havianas everyday, Matt visiting Melbourne, and lovely, unreliable trams.
Middle row (l-r): My CD collection, going to Lorne for the Labor Day weekend to play drinking games with my uni buddies (how mature and responsible!), and the Candle Records 10th Anniversary gig next month where I can take even more grainy pictures of my beloved Lucksmiths.
Bottom row (l-r): My supportive, hilarious, and cheeky drinking buddies/bestest pals, plenty more summer barbeques in my supportive, hilarious, and cheeky drinking buddies/bestest pals backyard, and Sunday afternoons in the Botanical Gardens.

How instant messenger can get you through the work day

A says: did u see Donald Trump's fiancee's dress weighed 27kg?
C says: heh. About the same as Mary Kate Olsen.
A says: hahahaha
C says: omg, going to hell
A says: still laughing, so me too.

A says: OMG
A says: OMG
C says: what??
A says: http://www.geocities.com/mnussitch/gossip.html
A says: have never found so much celeb gossip in one place
C says: so good!
C says: it says Jude Law and EwanMcGregor were lovers!
A says: oooooh
C says: man, according to this, everyone in hollywood is either gay or a total arsehole
A says: .....there's a joke there somewhere
C says: hahahahaa

Monday, monday here again

I realised this morning just how addicted to blogs I’ve become. I logged into my work machine, clicked on my Bloglines notifier, which alerts me everytime one of the blogs I subscribe to is updated, and realised that something had gone very, VERY wrong and all my subscriptions have disappeared. I slumped in my chair and realised my Monday morning was totally ruined. Ruined! I need about three more coffees before my brain will function on a high enough level for me to remember all my favourite sites. Ugh, I hate Mondays!

And, while I’m having a whinge, the timetable for Sunday’s Big Day Out was released over the weekend and it’s going to take a miracle of organisation to see all the bands I want to see especially as three of the main reasons I’m going (The Polyphonc Spree, Dallas Crane, and the Beastie Boys) are playing AT THE SAME TIME. And, let’s face it, “Music Festival” and “Organisation” are two terms that have never sat together. I anticipate a day of running around with a warm beer in my hand, catching 20 minutes of most bands, trying to catch up with friends, but, nethertheless, enjoying the hell out of every minute. Hurrah!

You gotta fight! For the right!

Man, Jess and I had better cut down on our fervent discussion of Delta’s career, her enthusiastic handlers, new boyfriend Brian McFuggin, and whether she may or may not be related to a certain NW Blind Vice. Why should we deny ourselves such a delicious, socially irrelevant, distracting-from-pain-of-ALP-crapness subject? Well, while skimming through MX last night I saw that famous Melbourne blog The Spin Starts Here is getting negative press for its tongue in cheek ‘Get Delta Cross this Easter’ campaign. The site has gone into meltdown and has been temporarily disabled.

I wonder what is going to happen if the Hun Empire picks up word of Old Rice and Monkey Nuts? Maybe Old Rice and Monkey Nuts will write another loopy column attacking us crazy lefties again. Oh, what high jinx!

How's that for a welcome back?

Hi everybody! Happy New Year and all that jazz. Decided to be fashionably late with the first post of the new year as was too busy stuffing my face, drinking beer, and carrying on back in the mother land. Oh, I had a good time but more about that tomorrow.

Right now, I want to adress the fact that on my first day back at work I stumbled out of a three hour (bastards!) meeting to find out that Latho's resigned.

It might be the jetlag talking but, regardless, I would like to say AARGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. Oh, and FUCK!

What now? Beazley? AGAIN?

Man, and I thought Lisa-Marie Presley turning up to the Golden Globes dressed as Dracula was going to be the "Holy shit!" moment of the week. I am deeply saddened to be wrong.