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”...
Permanent Link | 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.
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…
Permanent Link | Comments [8]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…
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!
Permanent Link | Comments [4]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.
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.
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…
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