July 31, 2004
July 29, 2004
The Thursday Thirty
We interrupt our regular program for an exercise in gratuitous indulgence...
30. Favourite Movie(s)? "The Exorcist" and my battery of Japanese horrors
29. Favourite Colour: Red, although I do have a soft spot for pink
28. Favourite Food? Roast spuds (with gravy). You cannot go wrong
27. Pet(s): Husband
26. I would nominate as a holiday destination: Morocco and Mexico - they're next on my list
25. What talent do you wish you had? Being able to sing and play the piano at the same time. Actually, either of them would be nice
24. 3 most precious possessions? Husband, Engagement Ring and Nikon 5700
23. Favourite Artist(s): Tori Amos, Radiohead, Dave Matthews Band, Utada Hikaru and Sarah McLachlan
22. Favourite Song(s): At the moment, "Eden" by Hooverphonic or "The Sky is Falling in" by Radiohead
21. Embarrassing moment: Crapping my pants out of nervousness when I was 8 during a physical culture (don't ask) performance
20. Perfect Job: A presenter on a TV travel show. Like Catriona Rowntree. I want her job
19. If you were to be stuck on an Island 3 famous people you would choose? Hugh Jackman, Orlando Bloom and Husband 'cos I do like a good bitch-slap
18. What were you in a former life? An Irish Potato Farmer
17. Three words to describe your dress sense? Conservative with (a) twist
16. Favourite part of your body? My Clav (Clavicle, people)
15. Favourite Smell? Woodsmoke
14. Whose poster did you have on the wall growing up? Gil Gerard (as Buck Rogers) and Christopher Atkins. Lord help me
13. Favourite Memory? Seeing soon-to-be-husband waiting for me on the beach at our wedding
12. Your Fear? Blue Japanese child-ghosts jumping on my bed at night
11. All-time favourite TV Show Due South
10. If you can be one animal, which one would you be and why? An arctic wolf, so I could go a-hunting alone in the snow
9. Most adventurous thing you have done? Get married
8. If your apartment/house of fire what 3 things would you take? Husband, photos and lap-top (for digital photos)
7. First famous crush? George Harrison and Bill Mumy (Lost in Space), both when I was 5
6. Favourite Book: "Wild Swans" by Jung Chang
5. Favorite Fruit? Mango
4. Favourite Drink? Anything alcoholic and strong... like Kahlua, Drambuie... no, just anything alcoholic
3. Where were you born? Newcastle, NSW
2. Three words to use by others to describe you? The 3 C's - Crazy, Creative and Certifiable
1. Favorite desert? Desert? Dessert? Right now, I would quite like to go to the Sahara and get me some cherry pie...
July 27, 2004
Natsukashiiiiiii! Ne!
The Japanese know how to make a good horror film. They also know how to make it funny. Even if it that was not their original intention.
The second half of "Chakushin ari" ("One Missed Call") was really scary. Creepy. It was also the funniest thing I've seen in a very long time. It was like "Ju-on", "Ringu", "Dark Water" and a bad J-Dorama all rolled into one. Cheesy, topped off by a cheddar-packed J-pop aria by Rui (who, incidentally, also stars in the film) - "Ikutsuka no Sora" for the closing credits. No J-Horror is complete without one. "Chakushin ari" was truly fabulous.
The Forum was pretty packed out for last night's session. If we'd seen the movie in Japan, there'd be horrified gasps around every corner. In Australia, there were titters and belly laughs all round (as well as a few well-earned pant-crapping shocks).
Japanese acting is seriously O.T.T. When we lived in Japan we became immune to it. It even became cool. Here, it is what it is. Hysterical. Embarassing. But with the bit of distance we've had from Japanese TV, I find it hard to believe that the producers of "Chakushin ari" didn't make it funny on purpose. Not funny in a slap-stick way, rather, golden expressions and melodramatic stating of the obvious.
It makes me wonder if we'd have found "Ju-on 2" as scary if we'd seen it at an Australian theatre. That movie gave me nightmares for 2 weeks. In Australia, who knows if it would have made me crap my pants laughing.
July 24, 2004
Photo Friday "Mother"
Blake and Jude
And why the hell not? Seems like a recurring theme amongst the hoards at the moment. In the last year, 8 close friends/family have either popped a cherub or announced they were up the duff. What gives, people?
July 23, 2004
Theme Thursday "Sadness"
...in other photography news, I've been trying to get off my arse and into the new 26 Things project. But with New Job and Magical Mystery Tours this is proving heartily difficult.
If you love a bit of a shutter-challenge, 26 Things is a top-shelf project. Only 8 more days before upload...
July 22, 2004
Melbourne International Film Festival
So the MIFF is now in full swing!
We're off to see Chakushinari next Monday (conflicts with the final eviction night of Big Brother - Don't shoot me, I'm addicted) and they put on an extra session of Dragon Head on the 6th, so am on target for that one, too (if I can stay awake til 1.30 a.m that is).
Stacks of movies to see, but damn me if they don't cater to the students of this world - with one-time-only sessions in the middle of the day. It's not like I don't have a new job or anything. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm just being selfish. Students have to get out of bed, too...
July 19, 2004
Magical Mystery Tour
Originally we were going camping. Somewhere nice and out bush. Like Marysville. Or Kinglake. Until I rang a couple of places and they laughed down the phone at me, "It's bloody freeeeeeeeezing up here! You're jooooooking!" Oooh-kay. Nothing like a bit of a nip in the air to freeze your eyelashes to your face, thought I, but nevertheless, we heeded their advice. I was crushed.
Then Husband said, "Let me take you somewhere secret!" Ah-hah, thought I, a collage of lascivious images parading through my mind, before he clarified, "...like...a weekend getaway." I was crushed.
We drove 2 hours due east on Saturday morning, with me clucking, "Sydney? Are we going to Sydney?" "Not Sydney? Bairnsdale?" "Ummmmm, are we going to Wilson's Prom???" We ended up in Walhalla. Where the flibbety gibbet is Walhalla I hear you ask? It's a beautiful little mining/heritage town tucked in the foothills of Mt Baw Baw, north of Moe. About 15 people live there.
We stayed at Windsor House (shameless, but well-deserving plug), run by a gorgeous young couple with an obscene interest in good wine. Originally they weren't going to open as it had been so quiet (everyone out camping I suppose) but Husband made a late booking on Friday so it was just us. And a massive house.
We had the run of the place... took naps, had a delicious dinner, played scrabble and drank port in front of the open fire in the sitting room, and woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon and the sight of a countryside layered in snowy frost. I even got serenaded by Husband...
That's it. Fucking good actually. Glad we didn't go camping. It was shit freezing cold.
July 16, 2004
Q: Where is the very worst place you could have a panic attack?
If you answered, "Punt Road during Peak Hour" you'd be RIGHT! 50 points and a free ticket to the Funny Farm for you.
The last time I had a panic attack was back in 'Nam, after a particularly potent "cigarette" which, to this day, I swear was spiked with something entirely unrecreational. It was 1997 and I had about 2 months of sporadic attacks after that particular ciggie and nothing since.
But yesterday I spat the dummie big time. I was meant to be following Matt to South Melbourne (the other side of the river, so frankly, I was a bit nervous). It was 7pm. I was sitting at the traffic lights near Punt and Swan Street. In the middle lane. I fucking hate the middle lane but had to be there 'cos Matt was in the far right. My stomach and heart skipped a sudden simultaneous beat.
Next thing I knew, my legs and arms started shaking and I couldn't feel my fingers. My brain went all purple and orange with pink spots. I couldn't move. I started bawling uncontrollably and managed to call Matt while the light was still red. With such a lack of feeling in my limbs, I thought I may have trouble speaking. But. No.
"I'm having a fucking panic attack! I can't do this! I can't do this! I don't know what to fucking do. FUUUUUUUUUUCK."
Poor husband. He said "Turn left as soon as you can, sweetie."
"TURN LEFT? TURN LEFT? SOB. I'M IN THE FUCKING MIDDLE LANE! ICAN'TTURNSOBLEFTORILLHAVEASOBFUCKINGACCIDENT!"
I have no idea how I turned down that little backstreet. I'm still amazed I didn't just sit there in a stupor, waiting for the Funny Farm to scrape me out of 3 lanes of mega-traffic.
Thank god for husband.
July 14, 2004
Embrace your inner dag
It was bugging me why the episode at the Builders Arms had affected me so much. I've never particularly cared what other people thought of me and I don't feel old in spite of my creeping age. And you know, I'm actually still rilly rilly cool, so how could anyone not appreciate my incredible dance style?
Then. Revelation.
I've spent the last two years in a country where the "Tall Poppy Syndrome" is some kind of illegal drug (which, ahem, Japan doesn't have in any quantity. Just ask the Government.) Watch Japanese TV. The person who is the biggest fool, the biggest total inutterable dag is often the most popular, the 'tarento' everyone wants on their show. If any of those furry anklebiters on Saturday had seen Katori Shingo work his magic on a dancefloor, they'd have committed him.
It's why Karaoke in Australia could be a really scary place. We don't have the same level of acceptance of shithouse singing and people who want to be stars. Which is strange, because a vast majority of people in Australia, really want to be stars. 10,000 people showed up to the audition of Australian Idol in Melbourne. 10,000. And only a handful could actually sing. It's like us Aussies are deluding ourselves, but we can't handle anyone else's delusion.
Ugh. I think I really let my true self bubble to the surface (read: explode) in Japan. There's no way I could rip out "Hit me Baby, One more Time" in a bar in Australia and survive. I loved the Japanese concept of "Be a Dag and Let the Riches Come to You". I'm still wrapped up in that little coccoon to some degree. It was a safe haven of knowing you could go out at night and not worry about people looking down at you for being yourself. If you were having fun, that was enough. Bitchiness absolutely existed in Japan (and in really unhealthy packages) but never toward strangers.
And never when you were a drunken mess, sitting astride atop a karaoke machine, crooning, "Jealous Guy"...
Would you hire this person for your next party?
July 12, 2004
Theme Thursday on a Monday Morning "Wings"
Angel on concrete
July 11, 2004
Me siento viejo
I love girlie nights. I really missed them in Japan. I had female friends, sure, but usually they were "our" friends or "couple friends" and we all hung out in one big happy group. In two and a half years, McG and I only spent about a week apart.
Last night, in honour of Shalome and Rakhee's joint birthday, 14 succulent wild women ate tapas and downed sangria at Kanela Bar in Fitzroy, an awesome hot-bed of candied spaniards, dim red lighting and, at 9pm, flamenco shows.
I'd never seen flamenco in the flesh and the show blew me away (almost literally - I was sitting inches from the dancers' staccato tapping shoes). The single girls at the table gathered in collective awe and drool at the rather sexy male dancer and guitar player (if you like that kind of thing). It was all very grown-up. The perfect entertainment for a group of 30 something hotted-up chicks. You could smell the pheremones. If one girl had let out the Battle Cry, the poor bastards wouldn't have surfaced for days.
Afterwards, there were cries of "Let's go to the Builder's Arms and have a boogie!" (already showing my age here). It had been over 3 years since I was there last and when I hit the dancefloor I thought I was in Heaven. The mix was serious 80s classics with a healthy shot of Beyonce. There was nothing barring my path to an immaculate moment.
Then I looked up and saw that (infernally) massive mirror lining one of the walls and a slew of young beautiful-people checking themselves out and glaring derisively at the crowd, erm, like us...
Suddenly I felt really fucking old. Most of the crowd were late teens, early 20s, contenders to the Paris Hilton Throne of Attitude. I didn't relate to them. I didn't remember the Builders teeming with the little buggers and started to feel weird about being on the dancefloor. I don't know if it was the 5 litres of sangria I'd poured down my throat or if I was tired, or if I was seeing something that wasn't even there, but suddenly I had to get the hell out.
It was like the old-me that used to go out on the pull on Saturday nights and flirt the town pink, was giving me the bird and telling me to go home to my husband. That I didn't belong in that world anymore. And I realised that much as I love my girlie evenings and intend to have a shit load more of them now I'm back in Melbourne, I'm not interested in the meat-market vibe of the places I used to love the most - the Motel... the Marquee... all those crazy (cough, shallow) places.
Fuckit, I think I'm growing up. Where the hell is my pacifier?
July 10, 2004
July 09, 2004
Secret Pink Earring Swap!
Bless Pinku, she's done it again, coming up with a sensational cross-oceanic girlie pink swap. Must be all those beach-side pina coladas...
Look at the smashing earrings (yes, the earrings, not the bikini) I got from Pamela in the U.S. I totally love them. Pink and Silver. Succulent. Mmmm.
July 08, 2004
Synchronicity
Just when I needed new music to spice up a life, I happened across Dirt Cheap CDs in Collins Place. Everything is $10.
"Are they legal?", asks Haloed Kinki.
"Who gives a shit, you pussy, they're $10!" Horned Kinki replies.
Picked up the first Eminem CD, the latest Dido and the "Very Best of the Chillout Sessions". Ah, heaven.
July 07, 2004
In other news...
...look what my friends Roz and Kim made!
Just 24 hours old
July 06, 2004
Me glad I teached English good, but.
I have already expressed my aversion to "behavioural-type interviews", probably because I am rather badly behaved and have killed most of my recall brain-cells already. When I interviewed last time, for a job at the Bank-Which-Cannot-Be-Named, I missed out. Must have been my crossed eyes and lazy tongue.
So it was with great joy and anticipation that I interviewed with the same B-W-C-B-N late last week for a newly-created position. This Bank's interviews are h.a.r.d c.o.r.e. It's not like I'm up for C.E.O of Margin Risk or anything, can't little ol' Kinki get herself a nice little jobbie with a minimum of fuss?
Nuh-uh. I had to navigate 90 minutes of intense "Name a specific time when... what was the context... what did you do... what was the result...what. what. what. why. why. no. not what. why" questioning from the "People Capital" rep (fancypants for "Human Resources" in case you were confused) and the Manager. Apparently I aced the first interview, except for that really suck-arse job I did of the behavioural section. The Manager wanted to see me again yesterday over coffee, to decide if I really did suck, or if I was just pretending.
The interview was going quite well, there were a few behavioural questions, but nothing uber-nasty, when the interviewer forebodingly said she had "one last question"...
Q: "In English grammar, what are all the ways you would use the apostrophe?".
Turns out she hates English-grammar-numnuts and my superlative knowledge of apostrophes and comparitives won me the job.
You can congratulate me now.
July 05, 2004
One reason why...
...4th July parties are really not a good idea...
July 03, 2004
Yokatta!
My new cousin-in-law, Carmel was selected for the Olympic Hockey Team yesterday! It broke her heart to miss the Sydney Olympics selection (almost as much as missing our wedding), so she'll be stoked. Go go Carmel, you mighty Roo!
