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I'm outta here!

31 December 2004, 17:24

Yes, sod you bloody Melbourne lot with your reported 32 degree NYE, today we’re off to where the sun don’t shine. Hobart.

Our friends Andrew and Kathleen are braving the Tassie “Summer” and hitching themselves to the Marriage Wagon on Sunday. Brave, brave people indeed.

And when you’re sinking your third martini tonight, reminiscing about what a great year you’ve had (even if you haven’t – alcohol is a truly wonderful thing…), please make a donation to any of the great causes providing relief to the Tsunami-hit regions. We donated to the Red Cross, but lots of others- Oxfam, Doctors without Borders and World Vision also do awesome jobs.

Oh, and George W, while you’re filling your presidential spa with ill-got oil (said to be very good for the complexion) why don’t you channel some more of your country’s money into Tsunami relief? $35million? Australia’s given $27M, Canada $32M, for countries mere economic shadows of your great nation.

Oh, sorry, George, I forgot – there’s no oil to be had in Indonesia or Sri Lanka or India… I guess you can start 2005 with a clear conscience then…

Happy New Year to everyone else!

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Moment Capturer's Anonymous

29 December 2004, 19:45

Maslin’s Beach. Not the nuddy bit

I have a sickness. One cannot put a camera in my hand for one minute without me snapping something. Anything. Everything. I am obsessed with capturing every. single. moment. You know, just in case I kill all my braincells in a single bender and forget everything I did. I need help.

Some say this condition prevents one from enjoying the moment, but at least I have photographic evidence of the moment, even if I am fart-arsing around with focus and composition.

I took about 300 shots when we drove back to Adelaide for Chrissy (to visit the in-laws/out-laws). 300 shots in 5 days.

We Three Kings of Glenelg, are…

We had a brill Chrissie – spent Christmas Eve wine-tasting in Maclaren Vale and frolicking in the ocean at Maslins Beach. Maslins is apparently v. famous as get-your-kit-off-and-prance-around-in-your-nuddy-wares, but we didn’t go quite that far. Matt did go for a “jog” up there (to get some exercise, so he reckons) and all he saw were gravity-challenged Greek men prancing (though not holding hands, much to my disappointment).

Sun and alcohol never were a good match for Kinki

Christmas Day we had to wait until 11am to open pressies. 11am??? Would have been blasphemous in my family, being a bunch of early-rising sickos, but we had to wait for McG’s Nanna Joyce to get out of bed, finish smoking her pack of ciggies and pop in the shower before we could pick her up. Good. Old. Nanna.

Christmas Lunch was at Husband’s Brother’s Fiancee’s Folks place – got soused on champers and Cooper’s Vintage Ale, doused in the pool and much to my excitement, Jude broke out her new pressie – Playstation karaoke Singstar. Oh. My. God. Was I in drunken heaven or what???? Spent the arvo going to head-to-head with Husband in Singstar battle mode and polishing off several large helpings of homemade chrissie pudding (made with a few bottles of brandy), brandy butter and brandy cream. Lordy. No wonder I managed to pass out around 7pm and not rouse til the next morning. And stack on 10kgs overnight.

On Boxing Day we took the car over to Kangaroo Island, one helluva unique place. We saw quite a bit of wildlife, most of it roadkill, but I fit in sightings of a few kangaroos, fairy penguins, New Zealand Fur Seals…

“Dud ya put ma fush in the chulli-bun?”“

...and a strange-lookin’ super-hero, Cape YoungHusband, unique to grottos around Cape YoungHusband on the south coast of K.I…

A rare sighting of the indigenous Cape YoungHusband

The only shot I didn’t get, which would have been priceless, was my saving an echidna from becoming roadkill (seems Husband is not similarly afflicted with capturing the moment)...

We were driving back to our B&B from Penneshaw around 10pm, when McG spotted a fat little echidna stepping onto the highway. He braked about 2 metres from it, and I got out and tried to shoo it back into the bush. The interaction went something like this:

Kinki: Go-orn! Git! Git then!
Echidna: [grunt. waddles a couple of feet]
Kinki: GO-ORN!
Echidna: [grunt. waddles a couple of more feet]
Kinki: GO-ORN![waddles behind it until it scampers into the bush]

It did finally disappear into the scrub, no doubt to become roadkill for another lucky camper. Never been so close to those funky creatures, though – very special and highlight of the trip.

Penneshaw shows us her pink bits

Not so great was watching footage of the Tsunami on the ferry back to Cape Jervis, particularly worrying about our buds Kat and Daz, who were getting marriaged in Thailand over New Year’s. Thankfully they are OK! I will never complain about bad weather ever ever again. I swear.

More photos of Kangaroo Island (from 200 photos down to a mere 21!)
More photos of Christmas in Adelaide

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Weekend in Pictures

20 December 2004, 16:25

Georgia reprises Little Drummer Girl for the masses…

The Boulevard Christmas Lights in Ivanhoe were a (bumper-to-bumper) sight to behold, but alas, a difficult one to photograph…

Kinki finally sends her felt flower pin to Evonne in L.A. If you’re reading this Evonne, sorry I spoilt the surprise. Surprise!

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Photo Friday "Tacky"

18 December 2004, 18:10

Tittie Purin, Tokyo

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Flip-side

18 December 2004, 17:33

Bagged and tagged gifts for the Smith Family Christmas Appeal yesterday.

It was a well ordered affair – around 30 volunteers came, some from anOther Bank, who shall remain nameless (although they’ve had some nasty affairs of their own to deal with this year) which made for some interesting banter.

We set up in the top floor of a warehouse, with tables scattered around the edges, each table for a different age-group. Donations were unwrapped, sorted into age-groups, then bagged – one “big” toy, 3 smaller toys/novelties, and 1 book.

Lots of things couldn’t go into bags – religious toys, table tennis sets (likelihood of v. poor family having table tennis table being v. slim) and really big/expensive toys – gift envy is still rife out there (hey, didn’t you compare your gifts with your brothers/sisters gifts when you were kid? I almost whipped out my calculator for Christmas analysis during the troubled-teen years…)

My anal-retentive nazi side kicked into 5th gear when I saw bags with 5 books in them. What were these volunteers thinking? I mean, how pissed would you be if you were a kid and you got 5 books, when your neighbour got a Spiderman suit, Incredible Hulk action toy and Formula One leggo set? I soon got a rep as a bossy boots which was not my intention, but at least things got done right.

It did amaze me the gifts people donated – x-boxes, bikes, cd players… those gifts are used for special cases throughout the year, not as part of the Christmas Appeal. For example, if a mum or dad has cancer and a small army of kids, they will give the kids an x-box while the folks are in hospital. Their neighbours would hardly have gift-envy of super-gift, given the situation.

On the flip side of this generosity are the scumbag(s) who stole $17,000 worth of donations from the Starlight Foundation. What sort of mother-^&*$%#@ assholes would do something like that? Shit, go rob a Bank with a truckload of robbery insurance. Oh that’s right, it’s easier for cowards to steal from a charity than a big armour-guarded bank.

I’d like to think the altruistic contingent is bigger than the asshole one. I think that culturally, it’s quite different in Japan, where probably fewer people give to charities/do something to help the homeless or poor, but at the same time, would never steal from a charity. I think the extremes are more defined in Australia. The Japanese seem to be very generous (tied to obligation? I’m not sure) amongst their “own”/their “superiors” etc. but the stigma of being poor or helpless or homeless is still very real and the current of volunteerism is still a bit retarded (although getting better, I understand).

Am I off the mark here?

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Festivities

17 December 2004, 17:36

There’s something about barfing up half a lung that renders you unable to write. Anything. Or even speak properly. Hence the absence of posts. Or it could be I’ve had nothing interesting to say… such is Life in the Comfort Zone.

So what’s happened in the last week?

Well, first-up, two of our fab friends from Japan, Kat and Daz got legally married in Tokyo last week. Read all about it.

Our department Xmas Party was ON last night – downed a few champers with 320 fellow revellers and felt all the better for it. Wondered why people were giving me a wide berth most of the night, though. Oh yeah, must have been the spittle frothing forth from my hacked-up bronchial tubes.

One thing that amazed me about the party, though, was that it was held at Queens Warehouse at Docklands, in and around the most outrageously decadent and expensive car collection I’ve ever seen (because, you know, I make it my business to visit car collections). People were chug-a-lugging next to $200,000 collectible cars and if I know Xmas parties the way I know Xmas parties, there would have been quite a few stains in and around the cars by the end of the evening (maybe even a reprise of Rose and Jack’s Titanic love-romp).

Snog-fest anyone?

Didn’t stay long enough to see all that, though – I headed home to watch “The Apprentice”...

Today is Day of Wrapping pressies for the Smith Family. Am not nursing mother-futsuka-yoi this morning (contrare to the number of champers downed last night in weakened state), so should be fun.

Have been feeling all natsukashii about Japan this week. I have the fondest memories of our Orphans Xmas Parties in Tokyo, getting blotto, stumbling down frigid, frosty streets and into karaoke bars in the wee hours, and recovering with a CoCos curry the next day. There was always a feeling of solidarity amongst those of us left in Tokyo without family to spend the festive season with.

Husband and I haven’t spent Chrissie in Australia for the past 3 years, so it’s all a bit strange. Will definitely miss the crowd we used to spend time with in Tokyo. All our friends here have their own family to spend time with, so in a lot of ways, people without family would probably feel lonelier here than they would in the same situation in Japan.

End of reflection.

Aren’t you happy about that?

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Photo Friday "Abandoned"

13 December 2004, 04:21

A-Bomb Dome, Hiroshima, Japan

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Eye suck

12 December 2004, 01:32

Husband dragged me out of the house today while he went to get an eye test and I decided to get one, too. It had been 12 years since my last one, so I thought it was probably about time.

Plus, I’ve had 5 days of being cooped up here, barfing up a lung, watching crap day-time TV (not even “Degrassi the Next Generation” could save me) and was getting serious cabin-fever. I even bawled my eyes out yesterday when some chick won the $100,000 showcase on Price is Right. I knew I had to get out.

Matt went in first, so I had time to browse the spec frames. I fell in love with a couple of funky oblong frames with thick(ish) black rims – I flounced in front of the mirror getting all a bit too Diana Prince for the staff’s liking, I’m sure. Cabin fever, you know.

I was pumped, I was excited at my new career as a bespectacled temptress.

Husband came out and I went in. The test seemed to be going well until I sealed my fate.

Opt: Can you read the bottom line?
Kink: No. Oh wait, I’ll give it a shot. I can see something, E, something, T.
Opt: (stunned silence) Thats, erm, really really good. Amazing actually.

The final verdict?

Opt: You don’t need glasses.
Kink: (What? WHAAAAAATTTT?) Huh? Are you sure, not even for reading?
Opt: No. You have excellent vision.

Ah, crap. So while husband picked up a nice pair of super show-off frames, I could only take pride in the Optometrist telling him I kicked his arse.

But I did take a longing last backward-glance at my gorgeous frames…

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Flu

9 December 2004, 19:54

I have it and I’m not happy about it. I haven’t had the flu for…. well, I can’t even remember the last time. I didn’t even succumb to it in the malady-ridden-vaccum of Tokyo.

I feel like someone’s jammed my nose, ears, mouth and lungs with wet toilet paper, doused me with turpentine, set me alight and run me down with a semi-trailer.

I have been off work all week and not going back in any sort of hurry.

And it came out of nowhere – usually these little angels give you some warning, a tickle here and there, a day or two of “offness”, but nooooo. Saturday night (in the great wilderness that is the Cathedral Ranges) I was feeling ticketyboo, downing tokay around the campfire, the following morning around 3 as I stumbled out of my tent to address the call of nature, I felt like a pile of doggy-do.

In spite of feeling like shit on the Sunday, our camping trip was rather fab, shit notwithstanding. Juliette and Dave brought their little girl, Stella for a teddy-bear’s picnic on Saturday and it was Rin’s birthday the next day so we ate Birthday Melon, quaffed tokay and stuffed ourselves rather stupid.

Stellllaaaaa!

Birthday Melon

Our fellow campers, Nick, Rin, Danes and Adventure Boy have become very close buddies since we got back from Japan. Not that we weren’t great friends before, but McG and I are finding ourselves rather drawn to spending time with them over other friends who were closer to us before we left for the orient. Marino I didn’t know that well, but he’s a top-shelf bloke and the lot of ‘em are low maintenance.

Go ahead, Pop my Cherry

I have no witty way to end this blog, so why don’t you just go and have a look at some of the other pics of the Cathedral Ranges, then?

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You can Bank on it

2 December 2004, 05:09

One thing I do love about The Bank is the Volunteer Leave. That’s right, you get to take one day a year out of work to volunteer for an approved charity and get paid for it! OK, so it’s hardly the point to get a paid day for doing something ahem, altruistic, but it’s a great initiative.

So I’m gonna work at The Smith Family wrapping chrissie presents on the 17th December with some guys from work I don’t know. Yet.

Does it sound like I’m becoming a Company (wo)Man??? I’m not. I sure as hell am not. I went to a presentation the other day where we were told about all the sweet products The Bank has and the direction The Bank is taking and how so much better Our Bank is than all the Other Banks. We even had to boo when a logo for any of the Other Banks came up on the screen. I think that bit was meant to be tongue in cheek. It felt like I’d showed up for a cult brainwashing, nevertheless.

All Banks are the same. A Bank is a Bank. They will never be cool. They will always do what’s right for them, and not the customer. I am officially working for the Devil’s Syndicate.

But you better believe that Real Estate Agents stop hassling to take out their dodgy mortgage-schemes when they find out you work for a Bank…

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6 months (& counting)

27 November 2004, 17:42

Who’s Who at Southbank?

It’s hard to believe we’ve been back in Melbourne for 6 months. We have jobs. Good ones (The Bank may be despised by the general populace, but they sure as shit are a good employer). The friends we had before we left for Japan still know who we are and want to hang out with us. Summer has fired up, everyone has spurned hibernation and the streets are filled with festivity. Even the upstairs Bogans have settled down a bit (although maybe they’ve just beaten each other into quietude). The only thing missing is hanabi parties. Shit. Wrong country.

Of course, I don’t want to get too comfortable, ‘cos then I’ll get the wilderlust again, which is how Japan happened. But it sure is nice hanging out on Friday night at (in?) Southbank with a few friends, sinking sauvignon blancs at BearBrass and having an al fresco dinner overlooking the water. Today the word is on that a 35 degree scorcher is coming our way, and that is always cause for celebration – we’re going to catch some waves down at Torquay. Adios!

Southbank sunset

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Photo Friday "Patterns"

23 November 2004, 16:41

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Two ships...

20 November 2004, 19:15

Saw Ex-Boyfriend today. Turns out he works at The Bank. I was walking behind him in head office, so he didn’t see me but it’s inevitable that I’ll run into him one day. What do you say in those situations; “Uh….Hi. How are you?” If he had been an utter bastard when we were going out, then it would be OK to give him the brush off, but part of me will always be fond of him in a weird way, so it wouldn’t feel right pretending to ignore him. I guess we’ll probably just have a polite little chat and move on.

It’s a bit sad that someone you used to be quite close to can turn into such a distanced stranger. I think it’s pure luck that you ever find someone absolutely right for you. With Ex-Boyfriend I think it was a combination of indecision (his), shithouse timing, impatience (mine) and the fact that we worked together (yeah, things that go around, come around) that made us drift apart.

I met Husband about two weeks after Ex-Boyfriend and I finally put an end to the sorry on-again, off-again mess we were in. Husband and I could have been two ships passing in the night if I hadn’t been wearing a dress with serious thigh-high split up one side.

I could have a totally introspective moment now and ruminate about love and “good-o timingu” and all that shit, but in the end – I believe it’s pure luck that you end up with The Man (or Woman) and that you both believe in each other, have the same ideals, but are sufficiently different to make things interesting. You should never settle for anything less than magic. If it’s not meant to be, it won’t be.

Someone pass me Oprah’s latest, please….

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Getting crafty

17 November 2004, 17:01

Pinku’s Pink Flower Swap is ON and I’m all in a dither. I am good to go, have my crafty things at the ready, have finished most of my flower pin, but I haven’t done anything crafty for a good four years. I am no knitter. I don’t know how to crochet. What if I have lost my craft? What if I’ve become simply cunning? What have I done????

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The things you discover when playing Trivial Pursuit

16 November 2004, 21:35

14% of U.S citizens can’t locate the U.S on a map. That’s 40 million people. In a first-world country. Am assuming a small proportion of that figure are babies, but even so…

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Photo Friday "Family"

15 November 2004, 19:18

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Davies had a little lamb (before having a little lamb)

13 November 2004, 18:00

Davies, who is 6 months preggers, and her husband, Adventure Davies, had a small posse over for dinner last night for Roast Lamb with all the trimmings. She is seriously nesting. What kind of mad-arse woman makes a banquet on a Friday? Love that girl. Love her.

Adventure Davies also unveiled his new project. A campervan. That’s right, he went out and had a look at his dream campervan, bought a trailer and made it from scratch (and memory). The man is a genius. Off his head and a really bad joke teller, but a genius, nonetheless.

And here I was, so proud that I’d made a hat for the races...

Adventure Davies sure does love his port

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When a cash-only society gets out of hand...

12 November 2004, 16:59

OK, she was old, but the Japanese banking system has been around for quite awhile ->2 million yen visible sash-line

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Banish the Bogans

11 November 2004, 17:22

They have got to go.

You may remember we had a problem with the upstairs bogans a while back when their dim brains couldn’t work out that if you don’t put your washing machine hose in a drain, it will flood your apartment. Which then leaked into ours.

Well, since then they’ve been noisy buggers, throwing impromptu parties on school nights ‘til the wee hours, drag racing their cars out our driveway at 3 a.m and squealing down the road, throwing plastic bags full of cans (beer cans, soda cans) into our front yard (the one their balcony overlooks).

We didn’t say anything to them. We hate confrontation (Husband even more than I) and weren’t sure whether they’d peel us off with a glock (I watch way too much “Law and Order”) or, like your garden-variety dim but malevolent bogan, make the disturbances worse, just to be pure assholes and piss us off. So we bore it. It’s O.K for me, ‘cos when the parties go on, I can just roll over onto my “good” ear and not hear a bloody thing.

In person, they seem like nice, average bogans. I ran into Boy Bogan last weekend and he went to great pains to make sure our apartment was “OK” after the flooding and said if we need anything just let him know. I was tempted to say, “how about some bloody peace and quiet?” but I didn’t. Wuss-bag, I know.

Last night was the last straw though. Every couple of nights they have fierce dommies (domestics) which are usually over around midnight, when we start to hear weird scraping sounds coming from their bedroom (god only knows how they’re making up, they are not normal).

But last night until after 4 a.m, they had a massive drunken dommie, shouting “f*** this, f*** that, you’re a f**in’..., I f**in’ hate….” at the top of their voices. I could even hear their hystrionics lying on my good ear.

At 2 a.m Husband had had enough, and, ever the non-confrontational diplomat (and half-dressed) went out into the front yard and had this “conversation”:

Husband: If you lot don’t shut the f*** up, I’m gonna call the cops! It’s 2 a.m in the morning! [go go, fierce protector husband!]

Boy Bogan: I’ll do whatever the f*** I want to. What are you trying to say, mate? [like I said, v. dim]

Husband: I’m saying will you SHUT THE F*********** UP!

Besse Bogan: F***‘in f***‘er, f*** f**** f****

There was silence for 15 minutes before they started again. 3 a.m rolled around and finally we hear from Bessie Bogan, “I’m going to my f***ing parents!”

Oh, that’s too bad! Silence for 15 minutes while we hoped she was packing her bags and pissing the hell off, but sure enough, the yelling revved up about 15 minutes later. I think they must have either passed out from exhaustion or killed each other by 4 a.m ‘cos that’s when we finally got to sleep.

Maybe they’re doing us a favour – we’ve been talking about biting the bullet and buying a house in the area. Just let it be a bogan-free neighbourhood…

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Rainy Day in the Dandenongs

8 November 2004, 17:15

Yesterday we took our Canuck friends Kevin and Donna (the latter being a mad photographer, bless her) out to William Ricketts Sanctuary in the Dandenongs.

William was this crazy old sculptor, a pure genius, albeit a rather narcissistic one, who had a distracting tendency to incorporate his own image into his sculptures casting him as a god or saviour to the aboriginal people. Ahem.

That said, the Sanctuary is one of the most peaceful places within an hour’s drive of the CBD. The sculptures look like their carved out of the trees in the rainforest, but they’re all made of clay.

Afterwards, we took the guys for Devonshire Tea at Churinga Cafe, watched the rosellas, kookaburras, magpies and cockatoos being fed (they must have known the Canadians were in town) and stuffed ourselves full of scones, jam and double cream. Oh, to have a bit of self-control (alas, not forthcoming).

Matt had wanted it to rain that day to give the Dandenongs an extra “ethereal” edge, so it came down in buckets, just for him. It was absolutely beautiful but a bastard to drive back to Melbourne in. Husband, please be careful what you wish for.

William Ricketts Sanctuary Gallery

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Still milking it...

5 November 2004, 17:21

Yesterday, Father-in-Law sent us a heap of photos he took at our wedding. It was so good to see photos that we’d never seen, 4 months after the date (you know, just in case we forgot and all).

Here is my fave (with my monkey nephew, Marshall “Connor” Mathers)...

The presents are over there

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Not. Happy. Jan.

4 November 2004, 17:19

First Little Johnny Howard manages to sneak his way in. Now Dubya, the creepy little red-necked, homophobic misogynist with his DT’d finger poised to destroy every non-Arian race in the world under the guise of “fighting terror” has nudged his way back into (his overinflated sense of) power.

Howard will be pleased his tongue gets to stay all sticky and firmly lodged up Dubya’s sweaty crack.

In the words of another infamous Aussie red-neck (with apparently good taste in dancing partners):

“Please explain”...

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Epiphany #415

4 November 2004, 08:53

3 things became clear to me today:

1. I really don’t like driving automatic cars.

2. Coles Supermarkets between the hours of 6 and 8 p.m weekdays are veritable meccas for the Single-and-Looking.

3. If you don’t fill your car with petrol, it will stop.

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The GeeGees with the McGees

1 November 2004, 17:13

The Frock…

Warning: First paragraph = Serious Chick zone. Lads read at own risk of boredom.

I love getting all frocked up. And Spring Racing Carnival is the perfect time to do it…

Saturday morning, Derby Day morning, dawned with promise. I’d already decided on the outfit – hot pink 40’s inspired dress by Very Very, baby pink strappies, and hat, moi’s own creation c/- Lincraft – pink straw hat with lime and pink retro scarf and bright pink flower.

Frock you!

I’d seen a lot of hats with adornments (feathers, flowers, branches etc.) sticking up and out, but not many flowing down, hence my clumsy fore into millinery. It kills me just how expensive a straw hat with a couple of straw rosettes are, and for something I’ll probably only wear once, maybe twice. So go the Lincraft. It’s your one stop shop.

I’ve never been a hat person. There’s something about hat hair that is so unbecoming, I just can’t do it. But this hat was fucking tops – so lovely to wear. My frock was gorgeous – although Husband insisted it was too “booby”. Pah!!! It’s obviously been a long time since he’s been to the races…

I was grateful to be wearing a hat once I got to the racetrack…

Flemington RaceTrack…

Sun. Lots. Of. Sun. Which is great, if you don’t plonk down on the grass with a couple of bottles of champagne in hand and drink them in quick succession. Which is exactly what I did. We had the presence of mind to bring sunscreen which stopped us from getting cooked, so things could have been worse. Lovely young fillies were passed out on their picnic blankets, lobster-red and seedy. And the ladies weren’t looking so good either.

Husband considers entering the Fashions on the Field

People. Lots. Of. People. 115,000 of them to be exact, with 15 tonnes of rubbish collected this morning. We had a pole possie at the 2800 metre mark, in between the track and the bookies, so once we finally found our party, I wasn’t about to move.

I’ll give you the hot tip…

The Derby was at 3.00pm and I usually only have a flutter on the main race, not being a punter, meself. But at 2.30 my girlfriends popped off to the bookies for the race before, so I tagged along.

I’d forgotten how the whole betting thing worked, but just as I got to the top of the queue, the inner-punter was squeezed out of me, spouting out some $5 each-way garbage on a couple of horses. I got a couple of tickets, so I figured I must have said something right.

One of the geegees , Miss Potential, had long odds (21-1) and Infinite Grace, had OK odds (8-1). I have no idea about horses, so bet on the ones that had perrty names.

I sat back down and promptly forgot about the race until the horses were approaching 2800 metres. We were next to the TV screen and I saw that my horses were coming first and third. Wow. First and third. As they passed us they were still first and third. The race ended and my horses came first and third (photo-finish, mind). Wow, first and third, which would mean I just won – oooooooh! $150 bucks! Thanks for coming. I jumped around like a total girl – my long-shot had just won and I a.m p.u.n.t.e.r e.x.t.r.a.o.r.d.i.n.a.i.r.e.

Just ask me.

Bottomless champers… literally

Then all my friends cornered me for the hot tip for the Derby. And wanted to rub themselves on me for good luck, which I didn’t mind so much. I also placed on the Derby, so got a bit of cash back on that, too.

Husband returned after an hour of waiting for champagne and hot dogs and was husband pleased with wife. Oh yes, he was. “Here honey! I got money!!!”

Just don’t ask me for the hot tip, ‘cos I have no frikkin’ idea.

The Aftermath…

Around 5ish people started to make moves, and suddenly I had to pee. R.e.a.l b.a.d. Let’s just say I got lost, I was drunk, I nearly wet my pants and I couldn’t find Husband, Tom or Diane (who had come down from Canberra for the races, bless ‘em).

So I caught the train back alone. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, except I fell asleep on the train and missed my stop. Finally stumbled home around 7, passed out for what I thought was going to be 30 minutes, and woke up at 10.30pm. With hell making a home out of my head.

But I just remembered the cyclist that passed me as I staggered home – wad of cash in my bag, hat and dress slightly dishevelled and still three sheets to the wind:

“So, did you back a winner?”

Indeed I did.

More GeeGees with the McGees party-fun here

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Photo Friday "Still Life"

30 October 2004, 06:03

Yay! Have reached milestone of 150,000 hits. Yay. Yay me. Yay you. Thanks everyone.

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Melbourne Spring Racing Carnival

29 October 2004, 17:45

....oooooh, I can’t wait! Tomorrow we’re skipping off to Derby Day with the throbbing throngs. Think it’s going to be a bit of a Hanami Party deal with some of our team getting there muchos early to secure a picnic/boozery spot.

The weather had bloody well better be fine, ‘cos there is much hat and strappy sandal action to be had. Of course, with all the rain we’ve been having (good for the farmers, good for the farmers) the track is bound to be muddy as all hell. And with all that champers thrown up before the end of the day…. ah, fun in spades.

Life’s all just a long mud wrestle, innit?

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Scenes from an Urban beach

22 October 2004, 05:00

Elwood Beach last Sunday

I really shouldn’t complain about Cold Sore. I promised God/Satan/whoever is responsible for the Scourge that I would not bitch and moan about Cold Sore ever again if I was passed over for my wedding day.

Cold Sore is on the way out thanks to a coke-load of Lysine and tea tree oil. But now Husband has Cold Sore (I didn’t kiss him, I swear I didn’t) and he’s as grumpy as a Bear with Sore Head and Cold Sore…

...ah me, Oh Life. Nice weather we’ve been having isn’t it?

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Even Hell's not hot enough

20 October 2004, 17:06

I have a (frikking) cold sore. I detest cold sores. I’m prone to the little fuckers and am convinced Satan gave us cold sores to stop us eating chocolate, drinking alcohol and generally having a good time.

The one stress I had about my (cough, our) wedding was that I’d get a cold sore on the day. Pure unadulterated Horror, it was. I didn’t. In fact, I haven’t had a cold sore for almost a year.

But I packed all of Cold Sore’s nastly little triggers – sun and wind (c/- 3 hour bike marathon down the Yarra Trail), alkihol (c/- many beers at BBQ Sunday night) and a glut of coffee, nuts and tomatoes – into my simply fabulous weekend. So I’ve got no-one to blame but myself for this little beauty pulsating on my top lip. No self-pity permitted. That hurts. I am not a happy camper.

A friend of mine has this theory that people who get cold sores generally don’t get pimples and vice versa. This friend also said she’d much rather get a Cold Sore than have Pimples. Hello? A big zit on the middle of your forehead vs. a throbbing, irritable nodule of scabby pus that spreads as fast as you can say, “Where’s my Aero Bar”? No competition, Friends, n.o c.o.m.p.e.t.i.t.i.o.n.

Fuck up and die, Cold Sore, fuck up and die.

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Photo Friday "Unexpected"

19 October 2004, 04:55

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Item 5 on the rumour mill...

19 October 2004, 04:46

...is that Sarah Michelle Gellar discovered she was allergic to Japanese water whilst filming the remake to “The Grudge”.

Must have been all those little dead-blue Toshios plugging up the Tokyo sewer system screaming “Nooo – not another classless Americanised remake!!”

The celluloid dead have their own way of making you pay…

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Brunswick Yaki

17 October 2004, 18:29

Bought ourselves a little 2001 Daewoo Nubira yesterday. Don’t know much about the Korean cars, but they make good kimchi, so they have to make a good car.

On the subject of kimchi, have been craving 2 foods that we used to get in Japan all the time (ironically not even Japanese) – kimchi and gyoza. I had to get some, so dragged a few friends kicking and screaming to Iku, an izakaya in Brunswick.

Verrrrry tasty feed – gyoza (advertised proudly as “vegetable” which pleased George and Zeljko very much, being staunch vegos, until we discovered they actually had pork in them – nothing like the complete Japanese experience, ne?), kimchi, yakitori, eggplant and mushroom kushiyaki, okonomiyaki (with the dreaded bonito topping – ugh), inarizushi, all washed down with Japanese beer and sake (and a touch of umeshu for Kinki).

Ah, fucking natsukashii an’ all.

Afterwards we went for a tipple at George and Zel’s local, “The Green Room” – very Melbourne, very Brunswick. Brunswick rocks. Anyone want to sell us a house there?

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Fitness junkie (?)

16 October 2004, 18:22

No, not me, well not yet.

Husband and I have been giving it a shot though, rising at the ungodly hour of 5.45 a.m since Wednesday to go to the gym or for a jog/ride. Yes, yes, I know a lot of normal people get up at that time for a bit of exercise, but I haven’t been one of them. Ever.

I am deadly unfit. I’m getting old and my bits are beginning to droop. Real ladylike. I’m one of those people who wants to do the least amount of physical exercise possible and still live.

But NO MORE!!!! This morning, a Saturday mind, husband and I got up at 5.45 to take the bikes out for a leisurely 6 km jog (husband) /ride (wife). We’re so lucky to be a piss-throw away from the Merri Creek trail which links both the Yarra City Trail and the Capital City Trail. Very happy with that. Our morning routine is the circuit that takes you through Fairfield, Clifton Hill and Northcote, along the river, through parks and with a decent kilometre stretch of top-shelf city views. And it’s not frequented that heavily (although I did have a near mishap with an elderly Chinese man and his dog this morning, but we won’t talk about that…), just the occasional lone jogger or cyclist or yappy mutt + friend. Noice.

I’ve never been a sweet-tooth, but I do have a problem with food. I fucking love it. I can be disciplined but I’d just rather not be. But all that exercise makes you look twice at deep-fried chippies (my ultimate weakness) and go all “Nooooo, I just can’t do it.” Damn you to hell, exercise – will you be my best friend???

For the avid cyclist (and while you’re there, check out the sensational picture on the front cover of the book – no mean feat, my friends, no indeedy.)

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The Smug Wives' Road Trip

11 October 2004, 05:26

Me and Davies (not her real name), took the Toorak Truck into the country for a bit of a girlie respite from married life this weekend.

Quite frankly, I think Davies needed a rest from her Husband (strangely also named Davies) whose idea of a restful weekend is a 2 day bivouac (without tents) high in the alps, hopefully with a bit of snow to keep it “interesting”.

Tralala! We love our brighter than bright whites!

But us ladies, ahem, no – we armed ourselves with girlie mags and Tim Tams and headed to Maldon, a town in the Victorian Goldfields which put the “Q” in “Quaint”. Our room at the Eaglehawk was a cute, vintagey no-lace zone with a terrace, perfect for a Sunday morning breakfast bask in the sun over the Sunday papers (alas, we had to deal with little Johnny Howard’s smug mug gracing the front page, but even the good Lord can’t get everything he wants).

Unfortunately (to quell the voyeurs in our respective Husbands), the girls had twin beds – certainly no saucy stories to share on that front. Trouble did brew, however, in the little pre-Davies, who objected to being intravenously fed a whole packet of snakes and promptly beat the drum of protest on mum’s tummy. All night…

Struck by the realisation that they really are goldfields!

Maldon is apparently famous for its steam-train [an ancient throwback to Victorian times which thrust me back to my former life as Judy from “Seven Little Australians] and its antique store, “Beehive Old Wares and Collectibles” – a veritable warehouse of knick-knacks, kitsch and genuinely fascinating antiques, including a wall full of old American and Australian posters circa 1930s-1960s.

We also ate. A lot. Damn that pregnant Davies! If it wasn’t Tim Tams and those infernal snakes (I demurred) – it was ice cream and BBQ shapes, Chicken Kiev and fries, supermarket tiramisu and devonshire teas in the sun (c/- Macarthurs Bookshop and Cafe, thanks for coming). Davies was quite horrified to discover she was on the verge of buying an entire fruitcake from the Maldon IGA with the intention of polishing off the lot. Some days logic just escapes us chicks. She put it back. I feel seriously disgusting today.

The Ghost of Little Australians past

The Smug Wives headed home on Sunday afternoon, after a tipple at the Basalt Ridge Winery high in the hills. The wives were content after a relaxing time away, but not-so-secretly looking forward to seeing their darling husbands again. Don’t vomit. At least not in my direction.

Maldon Road Trip Gallery

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Top 10 most annoying and overused office sayings

8 October 2004, 05:10

10.
9.
8.
7.
6.
5.
4. “He’s not emotionally intelligent” (“He can’t read minds”)
3. “You need a Can-do attitude”
2. “It’s not mandated” (“It’s absolutely none of my business, but… ”)
1. “Reality is perception” (” ”)

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Broken promises

4 October 2004, 19:03

I did something yesterday I vowed I would never do. I can’t even use alcohol as an excuse. Temporary insanity? Very possibly. I gave $1.10 of my hard-earned cash to the pit of capitalism that is Telstra and voted on Australian Idol. Twice. For the same person. Sorry – idol.

Perhaps I was rendered goony-goo-goo by the sensational restaurant Husband took me to on Saturday night. We were celebrating The Bank making me permanent (happening in 3 weeks so little premature but will be good excuse for another celebration when it actually happens) so got thoroughly noshed up at Langtons Restaurant and Wine Bar in Flinders Lane.

Wife started with a sweet vodka martini, then Husband and Wife shared the entree of goats cheese and Mediterranean vegetable terrine topped with olive tapenade. Wife was seduced by the main course of sirloin with potato gallette whilst Husband chose the Duck and both were washed down with a Burnt Acre 2001 Shiraz.

To add insult to an expanding waistline we shared a divine chocolate coconut tiramisu with raspberry coulis and a liquer tokay, then tucked into the petit fours before stumbling out onto the street. Total indulgence. We ought to be really, really ashamed of ourselves. But oddly, Husband and Wife were not.

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I swear...

30 September 2004, 18:23

...if little Johnny Puff’n’Stuff wins this election I’m seriously considering emigrating. To a country not governed by some cuckolded prat panting to lick the scum off Bush’s cowboy boots. Oh, wait a second…

Talking about getting away, far away… husband is off to Sydney next weekend and I want to get get away for Saturday night. You know, reacquaint myself with the pre-marriage Kinki. I need somewhere within 90 minutes drive of Melbourne (I’m thinking Marysville, Daylesford etc.) in an idyllic relaxing country setting, say, a cottage or b&b nestled into the foothills somewhere (sorry, channelling Merchant Ivory there…), no more than $120 a night, which is amenable to a single wench. Can anyone help a poor abandoned Kinki with a suggestion???

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Photo Friday "Furry"

28 September 2004, 17:54

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Grand Final Weekend

27 September 2004, 17:40

So, what do Kinki and McG do in Melbourne on Grand Final Weekend? They get the hell out of it, of course!

Now, I love my AFL. If a Melbourne team had made it to the final I may have been remotely interested, but considering my own team got a thorough thwacking with the wooden spoon this year, and those smug bastards Brisbane Lions were in the final again (boooooring) the whole thing just smacked of anti-cllimax.

We haven’t been car-camping for over 3 years (I’m talking about proper tent camping, not the sanitised “Let’ssleepinacabinwithwarmcosyfutons” style of camping our Japanese friends took for granted), so we headed up to the Upper Yarra Reservoir NP, the camping ground you get to when the Warburton highway ends, about an hour and a half from Melbourne.

“Davies, there’s no ‘u’ in ‘moose’”

There are hot showers and toilets, but otherwise it’s pretty rugged (erm… not really, but it’s really very pretty). When we got there, the incorrigible Davies’ had already set up camp and were enjoying a roaring camp fire, a nice cup of tea and a sit down. A busload of euro-australians had monopolised the picnic ground, playing boule (sppeelinng?) drinking grappa and checking out our little campsite. When they left there was only one other campsite at the other side of the park.

That night we tucked into vegetarian fajitas (without the tortillas or salsa because I forgetted them), beef stew, a truckload of beer (Danes was on the light beer being with child and all) and port and toasted marshmallows.

Shit, I’d really missed the Aussie camping experience. I’d had such a stressful week at work, it was imperative I unwind in idyllic surroundings lest the ballistic-bunny get the upper hand.

And the Davies were perfect camping-buddies. Major Davies stepped over the line once, rigging up a rope between his truck and a tree near our tent, so that he could make the tree rustle from the comfort of the truck and make us think that mooses were about to tread onto our tent. He thought it tremendously funny, although disappointed that we didn’t take the bait. I failed to understand why he didn’t just come out and shake the tree himself. Turns out it was “too cold outside”. And he calls himself a Man of Danger.

By the time we got home, everyone in Melbourne had recovered from their hangovers and the Grand Final was a distant memory (who won again???)...

The Upper Yarra Happy Snaps

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Photo Friday "Domestic"

20 September 2004, 18:22

100% Chinese produce… ahem, except for the Pepsi and Coke…

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Top 10 reasons why I love living in Melbourne...

19 September 2004, 19:01

You can experience a semblance of the four seasons – we have an Autumn! We have a Spring! OK, a piss poor one compared to the merry Northern Hemisphere, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.

The cafe and restaurant culture. I’m going out on a limb to say you couldn’t eat or drink better anywhere in Australia. Even the WORLD!

The ethnicity. I was walking down the main street near my place last week, and in the space of 5 minutes heard English, Greek, Italian, Chinese and what I think was Turkish. And don’t even start my on our local Greek grocery warehouse. When people pray to Mecca, they point in that direction.

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Meet the (Tokyo) locals...

18 September 2004, 07:56

It has only been 5 months since I left Japan, but it’s taken me that long to get together a collection of half-decent portraits of Tokyo locals…

Harajuku Hard Sell

Buddha’s Bento

Marunouchi Maskara

Ummmm, knock yourselves out…

B&W Tokyo Portraits

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A New Home

16 September 2004, 07:57

35 Degrees has moved to a new home. Thankyou to the incomparable crew at TextDrive for providing a far superior hosting service and answering all my dumb questions.

Leave a comment if anything looks screwed up. No, not you, Kinki. You can just scream “It’s broken!!!” at me. But you knew that.

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Photo Friday "Blossom"

13 September 2004, 17:25

I mean, honestly, as if this week’s project weren’t custom-made for Kinki…

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Friday night in the 'burbs

13 September 2004, 06:35

Yen and Rob talk strategy at the inaugural Kinki and McG Board Games Challenge

OK, so we’re dags. Sue us.

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11/9

11 September 2004, 19:36

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I wish I were an optimist...

11 September 2004, 05:21

McG is an optimist. He always thinks the very best of people. I, on the other hand, have an unfortunate defence-mechanism, finely honed since childhood, that if I expect a worse-case scenario, anything better than that is a nice surprise.

So when I left a few new purchases (a couple of photo frames and some pink beaded hair thingies) on the train yesterday, I didn’t expect them back. Matt insisted that he call Eltham station to see if they were still on the train, but my response?

“Don’t bother, some scumbag will have taken it”.

Turns out I was right (no sign of said bling blong at the station) but that’s not the point. The point is that I switched on the defensive “don’t get my goddamn hopes up”. But McG… Husband… Angel in my Kitchen was convinced that someone would do the honest thing with a reassuring “someone will hand it in, sweetie”.

I wish I were more like Husband. But I hate disappointment more than anything (even more than passive aggressive HR-y type D personalities) so no matter how hard I would like to be otherwise, I just have to accept that I will always be a pessimistic cow.

But although I tend to see humanity as a generally crappy place with people crapping over each other, setting off bombs in each other’s faces and starting war ‘cos it’s the thing to do, I am generally in an exceptionally good mood. All the time.

All hail the power of the ENFJ (sorry, Hitler channelling again…)

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Have bike... will travel...

9 September 2004, 05:27

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The wheels of the bus go 'round and 'round...

6 September 2004, 17:53

Lygon Street, Carlton

We had fitness assessments at our gym on Saturday. [ahem, dramatic pause] Let it be known that I realise I’d achieved my nadir of physical fitness prior to the assessment (the result of 9 months of little (no?) activity and a standard 20+ drinks a week) but the results were still jarring. I am officially a “poor” performer. I would have preferred “room for improvement” but it’s good to get a pride-denting boot up the arse to kick it off the couch.

To celebrate the findings, we met Matt’s Uncle John for dinner at Jimmy Watsons that evening, and stuffed ourselves stupid on international yum-yums (how can one possibly resist the decadent pleasures of an amaretto and raspberry trifle I ask you!) .

Our weekend routine goes something like this:

Saturday: Wake up earli-ish. Have brunch somewhere local. Have lunch somewhere further out, maybe with friends if we’re feeling popular. Maybe a trip to the gym, but probably not (actually, I just put that in there to make me feel better), nana-nap around 2 in the afternoon. Go out for dinner and stuff ourselves stupid…

Brunswick Street, Fitzroy

Sunday: Wake up earli-ish. Go early morning shopping at our local supermarket (very nerdish, but very relaxing, trust me), read the paper over coffee at home. Go out for lunch – usually Brunswick Street, Lygon Street or High Street, Northcote. A DVD in the afternoon, or a drive somewhere (yesterday we bought bikes! I’m in mama-chari heaven yet again). Nana-nap in the afternoon. Cook a roast dinner or something similarly cholesterol-pumping. Switch on the TV, and stuff ourselves stupid…

No wonder we’re such bloody paragons of sloth. Time for some major adjustments…

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Sakuraaaaaaaa!

4 September 2004, 05:13

Ah Melbourne. 4 seasons in one day. Sakura in September. Balmy one day. Cold enough to freeze your norks off the next.

I love it here. Particularly this week, when the cherry blossoms have been out. I smell long-ago sake, week-old chuhai, memories of a Japan I’ll probably never hold the same way again. Ah, Kinki – get thee from the pit of natsukashii!!!

[“Not possible!” cries the melancholy wench. ”...but I will have another glass of wine…”]

I used my exemplary train-shoving technique on the train yesterday. I mean, what’s with Melbourne commuters populating the area near the doors when there are perfectly good aisles to stand in? Particularly in peak-hour. People just stand there like doped-out mannequins.

I was in danger of being left on the platform when I went, “Hang on a minute, I’ve lived in Tokyo goddamit! Move aside!” My “holding-the-door-frame-with-an-indignant-butt-first-shove” invited the looks-of-death from nearby commuters, but honestly. 2 words. Second word “off”.

If I ever got another tattoo I’d have one of a cherry blossom (one of da pink ones!) one my left butt cheek to compliment the maple leaf on my right…

If only there was enough sakura for a Hanami party….

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Photo Friday "Modern"

1 September 2004, 09:40

...and only 4 days late…

The Forbidden Palace, Beijing

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Golden Moments (and not those in the pool)

30 August 2004, 18:29

Now, I am the Queen of Foot-in-Mouth – something goes in my head the same moment it comes out of my mouth. So it is with a sense of vindication that I present the Top 3 Olympic Commentator Slips…

3. [Seven Commentator – Swimming] ”... Hackett has pulled away in the last 50 minutes.” (metres anyone?)

2. [Seven Commentator – Volleyball] ”...and a great spike from Pothead… erm, Pottharst.” (Beach volleyball)

1. [Olympic Announcer – Diving] ”...and the gold medal, representing Australia….... Loudy Tourky!” (except Loudy had won diving bronze, Chantelle Newberry the gold)
[Seven Commentator] ”...it doesn’t matter, she knows who she is.”

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China portraits...

29 August 2004, 03:40

... to (attempt to) capture the chinese spirit…

B&W Beijing

Will no doubt get around to one day sifting through my thousands of photos from Japan, to do something similar.

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Shingo-alert!

26 August 2004, 16:22

For readers in Japan: If you’ve ever wanted to see Shingo-kun go head to head with a big fella wrapped in a nappy, then DO NOT miss Mecha Ike this Saturday night.

Nicole asked me if I ever missed Japan and here are two reasons why the answer is a resounding SHIT YEAH: Shingo and Sumo.

(oh, and very happy that 35degrees got a mention on the SMAP Freebird Forum). We have now officially made it.

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Love is the Drug

24 August 2004, 17:52

Right. To counter the mournful recollections of the previous thread (already a tonne of toons for me to go and pilfer from Kazaa – thanks!), let’s go with the “Love” song that affects you the most. Any Celine Dion or Mariah Carey gets automatically deleted. Wakatta?

Mine would be “Gorecki” by Lamb;

“If I should die this very moment
I wouldn’t fear
For I’ve never known completeness
Like being here
Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you
Still my heart this moment
Or it might burst

Could we stay right here
Until the end of time
‘Til the earth stops turning
Wanna love you ‘til the seas run dry
I’ve found the one I’ve waited for”

Just beautiful…

...and two songs hellishly high on soppy-factor: “Never Saw Blue Like That” by Shawn Colvin and “I Love You” by Sarah McLachlan. Can’t sing any of them without making myself cry (or others by having to listen to me sing).

Over to you guys.

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Seven Heavenly Virtues Photo Project

22 August 2004, 03:50

Faith
Hope
Charity
Fortitude
Justice
Temperance
Prudence

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Home away from Home

21 August 2004, 22:13

Far East in Melbourne South

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Sad Songs say so much...

19 August 2004, 05:17

OK. Reader response required, people.

What is your all-time most gut-wrenching “one.more.lyric.and.its. game.on.with.the.hot.water.and.razorblades” sad song?

I was wandering to work this morning, with MD in tow, listening to a collection of stuff I nicked from Kazaa last summer, and that gifted southern wench, Tori Amos spilled out of the airways with “Can’t see New York” and dammit if the tears. just. inched. out. of. the. corner. of. my. eye (ahem, just slightly). It’s one of those songs you can’t possibly listen to without feeling something tragic…

“and you said
you would find me even in death
and you said
you’d find me
but i can’t see new york
as i’m circling down
through white cloud, falling out
and i know his lips are warm
but i can’t seem to find my way out
my way out i can’t see.
of this hunting ground…”

Doesn’t that kill ya? She is the Divine Priestess of finding the most viscerally evocative way to put things.

Other top contenders for me are: “Stan” (Eminem), “It Can’t Rain all the Time” (Jane Siberry), “Gloomy Sunday” (Billie Holiday) and “Putting the Damage On” (Tori again)

Now…over to you…

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Bummer

15 August 2004, 05:30

So the Hockeyroos got slashed and messed up by the Germans. Not. Happy. Jan. Matt’s cousin, Carmel (aka “Bakurski #20”) got a major look-in, but unhappily, too much of one. She plays defence, so the more you see of
Bakurski #20, the more the ball is not in Australia’s merry corner of the world.

Sigh. At least their uniforms weren’t as crap as Japan’s.

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The Devil on the 13th Floor

14 August 2004, 10:24

I used to think the Japanese were impossibly superstitious, what with their bean throwing to cast out evil spirits and their insistence that nothing come in groups of 4, because it, you know, symbolises death and all.

But I’d forgotten about one of the west’s endearing little quirks – buildings with no Floor 13. It took me ages to work out why I only have to walk up one floor to go from the 12th Floor to the 14th…

Useless Trivia #1275613
Some say the superstition of bad-luck #13 comes from Judas Iscariot, the 13th apostle, who betrayed Jesus for some coin (30 of them, in fact) and a few flaming lamborghinis with Satan.

Others say it dates back to Norse mythology when Loki, the nigel-no-friends 13th guest crashed a piss-up of 12 gods in downtown Valhalla.

Those with a more “modern” perspective point to the ill-fated Apollo 13 as a source of their fear.

Useless Trivia #1275614
The irrational fear of the number 13 is “triskaidekaphobia” and fear of Friday the 13th is called “Paraskevidekatriaphobia” aka “whatthefuckisjasondoinginthetoolshedagain”.

Useless Trivia #1275615

• More than 80 percent of high-rises don’t have a 13th floor.
• Many airports have no 13th gate and airplanes have no 13th aisle (does that mean Japanese airplanes have no 4th aisle???)
• Many cities do not have a 13th Street or a 13th Avenue.
• The number 13 is omitted from the Italian national lottery.
• In Florence, the house between number 12 and 14 is addressed as 12 and a half.
• If you have 13 letters in your name, go straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect your flaming lamborghini on the way down. You will have the devil’s luck . Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy and Albert De Salvo all have 13 letters in their names.

As does my husband…

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Photo Friday "Tranquility"

14 August 2004, 08:51

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Out of context

12 August 2004, 22:18

This is one addiction I fundamentally don’t get. I understand alcoholics, I understand men prancing around wearing girlie knickers, I understand people who have to take 5 showers a day, I even understand the chain-smoker’s urge for just. one. more. cigarette. But this would have to be the most mind-bogglingly tedious activity ever to dirty this earth.

How could anyone be addicted to text messaging?

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More weekly photo projects...

10 August 2004, 17:10

Theme Thursday “Shift”

Photo Friday “Perfection”

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26 Things link

7 August 2004, 16:36

35 Degrees – 26 Things

here

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Blood, Sweat and Tears

7 August 2004, 07:17

(aka 26 things: the photographic scavenger hunt)

are up for all to see…

Kinki’s 26 Things – July 2004

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Barriers

6 August 2004, 06:32

Do you ever have one of those days where everything you do has a monumentous barrier in front of it? Where a difficult colleague, or a 2 hour drive home in peak traffic, or a beautiful husband who, with all the goodness in his heart, puts your stockings in the heavy-duty wash or an ISP that never works, pops up every now and then with a hearty “Helloooo! I’m still fucking here!”

Bah humbug – guess I’m just gonna have to load up ye ol’ profession-elle photos from the wedding. It only took me 3 months, but people, I’ve had barriers (ahem… like my own procrastination…)

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nijikai

2 August 2004, 05:17

When you get married, the idea is to milk the celebrations like a heiffer on speed. So it came to be that 40 of our gorgeous buddies descended upon Piccolo Mondo on Lygon Street for some old fashioned East meets West post-wedding-wedding shenanigans, also known as an infamous “nijikai” or “second party”.

The night started with a princess-tantrum (I forgot the battery to my digital camera again) and ended with a princess-tantrum (3.30 a.m and I was sure I was going to die of hypothermia and/or a post-bevvy aneurysm waiting for a cab) but everything in between was sublime:

• Nick (our super-super-superstar Showcase Host) nailed his speech after grilling us on Friday night about our relationship;
• Everyone was stuffed full of fantastic italian food (kudos to Tony and Laura at Piccolo Mondo who took such good care of us – we couldn’t have asked for a better venue or hosts);
• Our Ni-Ji-Keiki, a ten-tonne white chocolate profiterole monolith was easy on the eye and the palate;
• Taz won our “How many days have Kinki and McG been together” comp (only 4 days off with a guess of 1872); and
• no-one even minded being lined up and having their mugs trapped onto polaroid paper.
• (oh, and “Receiving a gazillion red roses from my beautiful husband” !!!! definitely the biggest highlight of the night.)

The piece-de-resistance however, was undoubtedly the post Ni-Ji-Kai (the “San-Ji-Kai”?) at Hollywood Karaoke on Bourke Street.

We knew it was the place to be when we walked in and 30 drunk Asians were lolling around the main karaoke stage. Ah, takes me back! For the more confidence-weary first-timers, we had a private booth. The menu was entirely in Chinese, the songs were a weird mish-mash (really different to the selections we were used to in Japan) and they served real alcohol – like Lemon Ruskis and Crownies, not that watery lemon-shu piss or Asahi Super-Crap.

“No, no, no – not succubus – succulents!

And it was a pretty good deal – $28 each for all you could sing karaoke (for us, that meant a 3 and a half hour marathon) and $28 worth of drinks. Granted, the drinks were expensive but we were already three sheets after the bevvies at the restaurant.

The best part of the night though, was realising how lucky we are to have such fantastic friends. My beautiful girlfriend Roz, even tore herself away from her newborn for a couple of hours to be there.

Discovering that half of these friends were latent rock-stars was just the bonus.

Ni Ji Kai Photo Gallery (c/- emergency disposable camera)

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Photo Friday "Sunset"

31 July 2004, 11:36

Qindao twilight

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The Thursday Thirty

29 July 2004, 17:05

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…

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Natsukashiiiiiii! Ne!

27 July 2004, 17:34

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.

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Photo Friday "Mother"

24 July 2004, 18:52

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?

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Theme Thursday "Sadness"

23 July 2004, 17:54

...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…

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Melbourne International Film Festival

22 July 2004, 17:52

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…

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Magical Mystery Tour

20 July 2004, 05:42

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.

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Q: Where is the very worst place you could have a panic attack?

17 July 2004, 02:34

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.

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Theme Thursday on a Monday Morning "Wings"

12 July 2004, 17:30

Angel on concrete

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Me siento viejo

11 July 2004, 19:47

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?

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Photo Friday "Cool"

10 July 2004, 18:12

Ikebukuro late-night-Cool

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Synchronicity

8 July 2004, 17:49

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.

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An Ashalea moment...

7 July 2004, 21:45

I was talking to my boss, who has the thickest Scottish accent imaginable,

“So were you born and bred in Australia?”

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Me glad I teached English good, but.

7 July 2004, 00:52

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.

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Yokatta!

3 July 2004, 20:01

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!

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Photo Friday "Father"

3 July 2004, 05:31

The Ghost of Fathers Past

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Secret Pink Earring Swap

2 July 2004, 05:54

I love it when my girls get all creative on our arses. Pinku has formulated the very special concept of a Secret PINK! Earring Swap. Ah, Pinku – how I miss your wild and wooly ways…

Here are the earring I sent (yes, very Big Brother I know, don’t shoot me)

...and here are the ones I received…

What do you mean, you can’t tell what they look like?

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Uso!

30 June 2004, 18:12

Some days you just laugh ‘til you cry…

Click on the image for 1.6 mbs of lovin’.

(thanking Shalome for brightening Kinki’s morning)

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You call that trivia?

27 June 2004, 18:52

When I lived in Japan, one of my favourite things to do, on mind-numbing ANA telephone-testing days (don’t ask, just trust me it was boring), was to spar with Mark over “Trivbot”, a neat web-based IRC application which spurted out general knowledge questions that you had to answer the quickest to get a point for your team. Mark usually creamed me, because, ahem, he was a quicker typist.

Now we’re all back in Australia, it’s time to admit what I knew in my heart to be true. Mark is far far better at trivia than me. Ask him who was the Secretary of the New Zealand Green Party in 1994 or how many pages was the 1999 hardback edition of the “The Ayn Rand Reader” and he’ll know it. Actually, I’m not sure about that last question. That would be a bit sick.

Our bud “Jeremy” bought Trivial Pursuit’s 20th Birthday Edition and last night 7 of us sparred over a game board and a bottle of port. Mark was a gun. He was pure genius. Even the Third Reich of Jer and I, with our outstanding knowledge of medical acronyms couldn’t put him back in his box.

It seems my memory of the last 20 minut… errrr, years has fizzled in a frenzy of dead brain-cells. Mark is never coming to a TP extravaganza night ever again. Unless he’s on my team.

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Photo Friday "Clouds"

26 June 2004, 17:35

...and now for something completely cliched…

You knew I had it in me.

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Made in Japan?

23 June 2004, 18:44

Last week, Mark, my buddy from Japan, sent me an e-mail. The poor lad is quite new to Melbourne and was whining about a disturbing lack of chuhai purveyors in the city. The only locale, he tells me, is a Japanese grocer south of the Yarra, and everyone knows that if you live north of the river it takes a bomb up your arse to venture south.

So it got me thinking, mainly about drinking chuhai and the sweet mother-love of Kirin Black, but also about where you could go in Melbourne to get yourself some old-fashioned Japanese home-stylin’. If you’re homesick for the Far-East, maybe these links will help…

Japanese grocers
Yes, a disturbing lack of them north of the river…
Fujimart, South Yarra
Omuro, Church Street, Brighton
Suzuran, 1025 Burke Road, Hawthorn
Tokyo Deli, 419 Glenhuntly Road, Elsternwick
Tokyo Mart, Elsternwick [Licensed Japanese Grocer]

Restaurants
Akari 177, 177 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy [Sushi]
Chocolate Buddha, Federation Square, City [Ramen, Donburi and Sake]
Eat Drink Bento, City [Bento, Soba noodles, Tempura]
Ginza Teppanyaki, Chinatown, City [Teppanyaki]
Hanabishi, City
Kenzan, City
Kokos, Crown Complex, Southgate [expensive, but they have a sake sommelier!]
Kuni’s, City
Kyoto Japanese Restaurant, St. Kilda
Momotaro Ramen, Richmond
Tomoshibi, Middle Park [Sushi, Sashimi, Sukiyaki]
Torimatsu, City

Izakayas/Japan-influenced Bars
Iku Yakitori, Brunswick
Izakaya Chuji, City
Robot, City
Ume Nomiya, Fitzroy

Ryokan
Japanese Mountain Retreat, Dandenong Ranges
Shizuka Ryokan and Day Spa Retreat, Hepburn Springs

Homewares/Kimono
Genki, Cathedral Arcade, City
Made in Japan, South Melbourne, Southgate, City, Chadstone
Oriental Artifacts, Toorak

Books and Comics
Anime Zone, Box Hill
Japan Book Plaza, South Yarra [Books, CDs, Anime, Comics]
Lupin and Jigen, City [DVD rental, Cafe, Manga library]

Karaoke
How hard is it to find private karaoke rooms in Melbourne? JEE-zuz.
Club Enka, City

Bathhouses/Massage
Geisha Melbourne, City [Japanese hair (!) and massage]
Ofuroya, Collingwood [Japanese bathhouse]

Events
Asian Film showings, various
Melbourne International Film Festival (includes Chakushinari, a film I desperately wanted to see in Tokyo), 5 venues, July
Miyazaki Film Fest, Cinema Nova, Carlton, August 12

These links are by no means definitive, so for the love of Ayu-chan, leave a comment if you have a recommendation!

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The Great Danes'

22 June 2004, 17:54

My gorgeous superstar girlfriend, let’s call her “Danes”, got hitched on Sunday to her equally superstar Mr. Fixit hunk of a man, “Chris”.

The wedding was beautiful, her dress the most divine excuse for a dress I’ve ever seen. Romantic ceremony, a few (hundred) tears (rumours abounded that Kleenex had sponsored the event) and plenty of champers all round. I even forgave her for not travelling a thousand miles to my wedding. Sniff. Yeah, over it.

So…anyone else getting married soon? We’d be pitching for an invite. Weddings are the bomb. Particularly when you see a dear friend so happy and in love with a perfect man. Even if that man could win a round with your own husband of “Who can tell the dodgiest joke”. Oh, fun times ahead.

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Photo Friday "Fashion"

19 June 2004, 19:48

You can take the Girl out of Tokyo, but you can’t take Tokyo out of the Girl…

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Sorry I ignored you, but I was in a bit of a Rush...

17 June 2004, 05:32

Where else but Melbourne could you wander down the street, see Geoffrey Rush in faded jeans and crumpled shirt (and why the Hell has no-one taken him aside and chided him about his mullet?) and no-one notices?

I am no star-struck junkie, but as I looked around me I thought, ?People! It?s Geoffrey Rush. The man deserves a bit of adulation!? But I merely gave him my own half-smile (didn’t want it to appear like I was lookin’ or nothing) and Rushed to my train.

Ah Melbourne. Perfect one day. New York the next.

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Photo Friday "Journey"

13 June 2004, 18:11

Riding a rickshaw, Beijing

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A break from the rain...

12 June 2004, 05:28

More Melbourne UrbanScapes (erm… actually not many just yet!)

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Tables turned...

10 June 2004, 17:57

For the first time in our relationship, McG is a kept man, currently perfecting the art of home-husbandry.

He is on the prowl for a job, hell, he’s so much more employable than me, but has had even fewer bites and is kind of enjoying the eruption of his inner Mr Handyman, fixing everything that needs fixing in the apartment, and trust me, there’s plenty….

...we’ve already had signs of the diabolical trinity – kitchen mice, cockroaches and ants.

...we bought a massive 3-piece lounge suite, roughly the size of Burkina Faso which needed prompt returning when we discovered my feet couldn’t touch the floor when I sat upright (but it was sooooo comfy as a slump chair, bemoans the lady with the deformed spine).

...there’s no drain for the washing machine. Apparently the former tenants used to hang the pipe in the shower recess, which would be fine except the shower leaks and we had a near catastrophe when the whole bathroom went Noah on the ant army camped on the floor.

...we’ve got Jehovies living in the apartment out back. I guess they’re more prepped to fix us than the other way around, though.

But all the S P A C E. It’s fabulous. The apartment is really convenient, near a tram, train station and bus. We can hang up our croses. We can have showers without having to dry off in the genkan. We can turn off the heating and the place will still be warm. People tell me the mice are not as robust in Australia. And we have ratsak, not that pissy poison that our Japanese mouse ate for breakfast with a nice cup of Irish Breakfast tea…

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Bite, damn Fish, bite I say!

8 June 2004, 18:21

I hate job interviews.

I particularly hate the “behavioural questioning” line that recruiters cream their jeans over, the idea being that a candidate’s future performance can be judged on how they’ve acted in the past.

I had my first interview on Monday and, unfortunately, my past work-life is so much of a blur (2 months of Japan + China + North Queensland will do that to you) that questions like “Name a time when you have missed a deadline, what happened and how did you learn from it?” induced a cocker-spaniel-meets pit-bull look of helplessness.

Now, of course I’ve missed deadlines and made plenty of mistakes but could I come up with one specific time? I said I didn’t tend to miss deadlines (simply because I couldn’t think of just one) and they were usually beyond my control, so instead of coming across as a mature healthy mistake-maker, I sounded like an arrogant, ne’er do wrong princess. Errrr, hang on a minute…

The questions came in intimidating rapid fire with no attempt to make the whole process comfortable and I left the interview shaking my head thinking “What the?”. I felt like I’d survived the Spanish Inquisition but my thumbs were still hurting.

And as if the interview wasn’t bizarre enough, I got a second interview.

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Return of the Goddess

31 May 2004, 06:38

I began crying. The emotions came thick and fast. Memories swirled around and grew like tumours. I cursed you and swore silently at my own weakness as the tears fell wantonly. Oh me! oh life! I cried. My stoic countenance was but a puddle of cat piss on the floor. I was reduced to a snivelling, fermented mess.

That’s right, Sarah McLachlan was back in town.

The last time I saw Sarah was back in ‘Nam, at the first Lilith Fair in Vancouver in ‘96. It was an acoustic set and I seem to remember that Sarah was competing with David Duchovny and a supposed backstage tryst with Lisa Loeb for my attention (we sat high up in the stands).

It was pouring with rain. People were moshing. To Sarah McLachlan. I looked around and said to myself, “Fuck I love a country that moshes to Sarah McLachlan.”

There was no moshing at the Regent on Friday night. It was very civilised. I started crying during the first song and basically didn’t stop. She. was. flawless. A fucking goddess who didn’t miss a single note.

That’s not to say she made all the right choices.

On Thursday she had had an interview with Nathan Buckley who told her to wear a Collingwood scarf during her first concert ‘cos “they’ll love you!” She was booed. On Friday night she came out during the encore with a Demons scarf on, told the story about the Collingwood Scarf Affair and conceded that she decided to wear a scarf of “a team less hated”. She was booed.

I looked around and said to myself, “Fuck I love a country that has the temerity to boo Sarah McLachlan over the footie”...

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My new husband...

30 May 2004, 02:50

...has finally written about The Day over at Opinios. If you don’t care for my warblings, his recount may just be your thing.

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The Chicken or the Egg

29 May 2004, 03:32

We are the masters of indecision.

When we arrived in Melbourne last Saturday, we thought we’d rent a little establishment in Carlton North. Considering Tokyo rents we put the bar up to $360 p.w. Then we did the math. We talked. Then balked. Decided we couldn’t bear to pay someone’s else’s ridiculous mortgage, so started looking at places to buy to mortgage ourselves to the cranium for the next 30 years instead. So our rental bar came down by half so we could actually save while educating ourselves about the market.

One problem. No jobbie. No jobbie meant it would be hard to convince anyone to rent us even a shitty dry-rotten bungalow in Thomastown. Here we were, perfect tenants, with the perfect opportunity to check out places, but we are the scourge of the rental and loan industry with no regular income and no recent Australian credit history.

But while living out of a suitcase (thank god for John and Bronwyn who have generously shared with us their house in Ivanhoe with the menagerie of 4 dogs, 3 cats, 2 budgies and a lively teenager) it’s hard to get that jobbie to achieve the all-important regular income.

Jobbie. Rental. Mortgage. Jobbie. Rental. Mortgage. Vodka. Pass me the vodka.

Actually, make that two problems (and while you’re at it, another vodka) – Melbourne has gone loco with rent and sale prices. Dammit, we want that dream lifestyle! We’ve earned that dream lifestyle! We lived in a shoebox for two and a half damn years, and we were looking at rentals the same size for roughly the same price as in Tokyo! We were deflated. I cursed this city whilst fondly caressing it’s liveability and a fabulous cappuccino.

Luckily, one of my old real estate agents came to the rescue, and gave us this “quaint” apartment in Northcote practically on the spot for $190 p.w. Fingers crossed the landlady likes our earnest faces.

Just proof it’s not what you know…

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Temp to Perm - part IV

22 May 2004, 21:14

The Aftermath

After the reception, a group of buddies hit the Sarayi Pool, bottle of Chardonnay smuggled from the Sebel in hand. We all drank the wine straight from the bottle. Like true Aussies. Classy. Sophisticated. I was home.

On return to our room (upgraded to a Verandah Spa room, thanks very much), Matt had organised a deluge of multicoloured rose petals to cover the bed. The rest of the evening needs no detail.

The first few days of our honeymoon were taken up with family and friend obligations. We figured that everyone had travelled so far to attend our wedding, we owed it to them to spend a bit of time. But my bar is fairly low (Matt’s is much higher), it was our freakin’ honeymoon and everyone knows that sex and family members do not mix. It’s just wrong.

Luckily we, being unemployed bums, had the luxury of extending the honeymoon an extra two days after everyone flew home, which meant more of the hard-life – more snorkelling on the outer Great Barrier Reef…

Oh, the horror!

more falling asleep in the sun, roasting like oven-dried tomatoes, more sunset walks along the beach…

and enjoying the crazy unity we’ve found ourselves in. Reality? What the hell is that?

Honeymoon photos (no, not those ones) here!

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Temp to Perm - part III

21 May 2004, 20:48

New Love (no, not ours)

The reception was a Gourmet Aussie BBQ at the Sebel’s Poolside Cafe. Prawns, chicken, steaks, kebabs and fish were barbequed up, with stacks of salad, roast potatoes and pastas. The wine flowed, particularly for Matt’s Uncle John who decided Bron would be perfect for our friend Jeremy who was, ahem, seasoning his steak elsewhere.

Only a couple of things went slightly awry at the reception, most notably the batteries of our MDs running out of juice. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except I’d spent ages putting together a dance compilation, that ran out three quarters through. Desperate, we raided the Sebel’s CD selection which was… fairly tragic. It was either Tchaikovsky, Garth Brooks, or “Hits of the 90’s”. If you can’t figure which one we chose, then you really are reading the wrong blog.

With Mark and Connor

The show-stealer was undoubtedly my nephew, Connor, who at 2 1/2 years old, already does a mean Eminem impression. He stripped down to his singlet and thoroughly rocked out to Belinda Carlisle (as you do), yelling at the audience like a real rock and roll star. Damnit nephew, did I not warn you that this was my day?

You can’t blame him, though. He had a little hottie to impress. Connor and Tessa (who will be getting married about 25 years from now) were enamoured with each other on first sighting. There was embracing, there was kissing, and at the end of the night, Connor was even feeding Tessa her bottle. Ah, young love.

First Kiss

The speeches were hilariously bad, especially Matt and my speeches which were little more than drunken thankyous. I know of plenty of brides who don’t eat or drink because they’re too busy entertaining, but I thought, “Fuck that. It’s my wedding so I’ll get as sloshed as I can.”

Jeremy took control of our video camera and interviewed all the guests, asking “If you could describe Matt and Kim in one word, what would it be?” The Top 12 responses:

12. “Sensible” [Jude obviously doesn’t know us very well]
11. “Humourous” [Diane]
10. “Sudafed” [Matt’s rather crook dad]
9. “Alcoholics” [Jane who knows us rather too well]
8. “Sexy” [Mark and Connor]
7. “Rambunctious” [Tom]
6. “YOUNG!” [I really love Auntie Claire]
5. “I’ve only got one word?” [Bron]
4. “Overrated” [Tom again, who really should be put back in his cage]
3. “Gorgeous/nauseous” [Penne swore it was the former]
2. “LOVE!” [Uncle John, everyone’s favourite guest]
1. “What was the question?” – [Sam]

And I’ll leave you with this haiku written by our good buddy, Tom, who gave a winning speech;

“On an Autumn beach
Joy shared with those who are close”
They leave united”

...to be continued…

Reception shots here!

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