Laughs a plenty

K and I went and watched some comedy last night. A fundraiser was put on by lots of good comedians in support of a mutual friend of theirs who has been diagnosed with cancer. I am always up for a laugh, and even more so when it’s for a good cause.

But that wasn’t the funniest part. The funniest part was when I got home late from my personal training. This is the personal training that K has been so excited about (I quote: “the best present for a wedding ever!! A size 6 wife!”) and has been urging me to make the most of it (“but hill runs are SO good for you!”, or “you’ll feel better in a few weeks”, or, my personal favourite, “it’s good pain” – how the fark, can any pain be “good pain”?! But I’ll save this thought for another blog, at another time). Anyway, you get the idea.

So, I go to personal training, and sweat my guts out for the better part of an hour, head home, and the traffic is bad. I get home and K is sitting looking lost and forlorn saying, “We’re going to be late, and I’m hungry.” OK, I say, in my best superhero voice as I sprint to the bedroom to get changed (no time for showering – gross I know, but my man’s stomach needed saving and this blog is all about honesty). I am ready to go in 3 minutes. That is 180 seconds people. I was fast.

We race in the car over to the theatre that was having the comedy show, and traffic was even worse than it was back from PT. K was getting stressed. “I need to eat. You were late and I haven’t eaten. I’m going ot have to sit and starve for 2 hours now.”

I was trying hard to stifle the laughter (number 1 because it hurt my abs which had just received a beating, and number 2 because I can’t imagine it would have gone down too well). This was coming from the man who goes to the gym while I wait at home until 9pm to have dinner with him. It was 6.45 at night. Not exactly starvation hour, in my opinion.

Then we had the comedy of errors of finding a carpark. You know the one where every car in front of us finds a park just before we come across it. K was getting more and more frustrated. I don’t think his stomach was finding it funny.

Long story short, we found and slid into a car space that was about 10 metres away from our location. Not quite rockstar parking, but definitely rock star’s entourage parking. We got a Thai meal in as well so bellies were full. And then we laughed. Solidly for two hours. Akmal Saleh, Carl Barron, Tahir, Peter Helliar, Darren Sanders, Dave Williams and a chick whose name I don’t know but who was pretty hilarious – especially when she flopped her gut out – my belly wobbled in unison!

A good night had by all.

The family

Caught up with K’s family tonight – his cousin has a little bubba who just turned 2 so we all gathered at their place to celebrate his cars, trains and hot, red Wiggles pyjamas. He is a serious front-runner as the cutest kid ever!

K’s sister, the afore-mentioned SIL, and his cousin, who I also lurve, J, were talking about my blog. And SIL mentioned that she didn’t think the family had frequented it enough. J reminded her that she was in the entry of the sky-jump and SIL was happy. But I thought I would suck-up a little bit more by putting in an entry just for them. To say thanks.

Thanks for making me feel so welcome in your family. And thank you both so much for being lovely, fun and generally awesome. But most of all, thank you for puttng K in his place often so that he is well aware that the chicks rule around here! It made my transition in as strong-opinioned, stubborn, domineering girlfie all the easier. Ha, ha, ha. Just kidding. Thank you both for being you.

OK, enough sucking up to the SIL and J. You both rock and I love you heaps. Thanks.

Reporting in!

OMG!!! It’s been eons and eons… Anyhoo, so I have SOOOO much to blog here. For those ardent followers that have been reading my blog for a while now, you have all read about my various trials (many) and tribulations (fewer) on planet love – where the terrain is rocky and the journey strewn with hazards along the way – especially when you are walking the path with the dude I won’t even name – he who was abusive, foul and generally a not-nice guy.

Somewhere along the way, I parted ways with afore-mentioned inglourius basterd (or however they are mis-spelling it in the movies these days) and did some solo travels. Life was good, the view was clear, I was, like the Primal Scream song, movin’ on up.

And then I met K. Ahh K. Lovely, lovely K. And not only did the view get a whole lot better, but the journey much more fun – having someone who is as loose as me along for the ker-razy ride.

Anyway – enough with the bad travel analogy already.. my news is this:

K and I are engaged!!

Yay!! And life is good. The turtle is happy, the plants are all flowering in celebration, our friends and families are gorgeous. It doesn’t get much better than this!

Big love to all. And more soon. x

Not much to report at this end

As the title of this post says, I really don’t have much to report at this end. Work is pretty cruisey which is nice after 2 years of hell(-stra!). The man is fab and we are pathetically in lurve! The turtle is back and asides from having to inject her every few days with antibiotics (I never, ever, in my wildest dreams, thought that I would end upplaying nursemaid to a turtle!), she is fine and dandy. All in all, life is good. We even got a new pet to add to the mix – Selwyn, the Siamese fighting fish. He lives in an expensive Kosta Boda bowl that I couldn’t think of a better use for, and chances are, he won’t see out the fortnight.. I don’t have a good track record when it comes to piscean creatures! Actually, I don’t have that great a track record when it comes to turtles, but oh well.

Anyway, so it’s better when there’s dramz in the life, for blog-posting anyway.. Because there ain’t much to report on when life is fine.. Here’s hoping all are well out there and life is good. Sending big love from down under to wherever you all are in the world!

The new love!

Ok, so maybe not so new.. but relatively new to the blog, in that he hasn’t featured all that often. Mainly because he’s the reason I haven’t been writing.. We have way, way, WAYYYYY better things to do in our lives than write blogs. Heh, heh, heh (*dodgy cackle alluding to wanton bedroom activities).

Anyway, so, I have never told previous relationships about this blog – could you imagine if the bad, farkwit ex had the address? If it wasn’t all true, he could have sued me for defamation of character (except that he is, actually, an arsehole, a cheater, an abuser and an all-round loser. And the pot-head bogan was never going to find out about it – you can’t write things about someone and then have them read it (and I’m sure he would have once the haze/pot cloud lifted. So perhaps I’ve broken the cardinal sin – in that I have told my man about my blog. I referred to him as “K” in a previous entry and it stands for Kiwi, for those who have been brain-straining to work out if his name is Kevin, Keith or Koichiro Kawazaki – none of the above, btw!

So, now I have to say nice things.. Because not only does he KNOW about the blog – he asked me to feature him. And how could I resist when he looks at me with those gorgeous brown eyes, and flashes me his gorgeous smile.. So, my lovely K – this one is for you. You have that gorgeous Kiwi accent, even when you are being a duck (think about it people!), and I’m so happy we’re living together (in sin) in Sin-dney. I especially love that you are as dodgy as I am, and I’m still going to have lots of material for my blog!

Big love BB. x x

Busy-sick-over-it

Hi gang! Thanks so much to those of you who keep checking back even though I have been slack and not written regularly for a couple of weeks now. Singapore took it out of me and work has been hectic- I have had some rotten cough for weeks (verrry attractive, let me tell you! Actually, the cough is so bad that the other day a lady from work suggested I go to a doctor.. When I told her I had already been three times, she said, “maybe you need.. a.. um.. specialist.”

When I questioned why, she said, “i don’t want to scare you sweetie, (always a bad sign) but it might be lung cancer! You smoke heavily, no?”

No. Actually I don’t. Nor have I ever smoked in my life. But thanks for the words of advice.. and thanks for not wanting to scare me. Appreciate it. Cough, cough.

Anyway, the point of the blog was to say thanks to everyone for checking back – especially Pia who not only checks back regularly.. but then sends me messages asking me why I haven’t written. Thanks love!

Sing-sing again!

In Singapore for a work event and it has been a productive although tiring week. We’ve been locked in a room for 10 hours a day nutting out a few finer points of what our business unit does, how we interact wtih others, etc, etc.. the niceties of it all, shall I say. Anyway.. so, we got to yesterday, the final day of the proceedings and I think everyone was looking a little haggard – myself even more than the rest of the group. The last time I was in Singapore, I was with my friend D, and she and I attempted to try every beauty treatment we could (with varying reults – see previous blog entry). But I had discovered one she hadn’t tried… And here it is:

Yes folks, they are little fish.. Little fish that gnaw away at the dead skin cells on your feet and legs.. It sounds a bit um.. gross!  but I have to say it is actually a really lovely tingly sensation as they nibble away at your limbs. Check out garra rufa at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doctor_fish

D wasn’t impressed when I got to try something she hadn’t and I think she’s booking her flight to Singsing now to get onboard!

My favourite part of the trip was sitting in Raffles drinking Singapore slings with a very good friend of my ex-loved one, who is now a good friend of mine – was great to see him, and know that I am still loved by the loser’s mates – the best revenge. Big love and fish nibbles to all.

Back door bandits

No, not half as bad as the title suggests..

A couple of entries ago I wrote of my flatmate and i being a bit fabu-loose and heading to Revolver for some shenanigans. Well, we went there again on Saturday night and having discovered the secret back entrance on our previous venture here, we decided to forego the cover charge on the front door, in favour of mischeif – and being the very mature 31 and 33 year olds we are, we snuck in the back way. I don’t know how we got in, as the place was crawling with bouncers, but we did, and as they say, that is all that counts.

Our day actually started much more respectfully.. and that was at 1pm that afternoon when we went to a very nice restaurant (called Orange on Chapel Street) and drank red wine in front of a blazing fire. It was warm, cosy and delightful. I then had to attend a 2 hour engagement party in the early evening and when everyone left the venue, I called up the flatmate to get her to come to help my polish off the remaining bottles of champers – and let me tell you, there was a few.

There was another establishment between said-engagement party venue and Revolting but I won’t go into details.. except to say thank god for my camera – we needed a refresher the next morning on what had gone on.. and this was the most enlightening photo:

Yes, my friends, that is the flatmate-that-I-love, with a horses head on, kissing a boy with..um, the rest of the horses outfit. What a classy lady! But nowhere near as classy as the gorilla or the tiger in the background!

Whatevs slocos.

My lovely friend D, who I travel with quite often, and lurve most of the time (*this story pretty much makes up the rest of the time when I don’t lurve her so much) rang me the other day to tell me that she was coming to visit me down here in Mexico Melbourne. I was very, very excited until she told me she was coming on the weekend of October 11-12. I had already discussed that weekend this week – with my Dad, who had wanted to come down and walk the 5km walk as part of the Melbourne marathon.  I mentioned to her that he would be down, and why. She giggled.

“Well,” she said, “you’ll be impressed, I’m bringing N and glittergirl with me.” And as soon as she said glitter girl, I knew.

“I’M NOT RUNNING!” I said -  getting it in quick before she could even think about broaching the subject.

“Come on,” my friend coaxed. “It will be fun.”

Fun? Running ’til I’m out of breath, my large mammary glands bouncing all over the place causing pain, my body aching during and for days after the event because of my complete lack of fitness and thin, lithe active people looking pitifully at me as I slouch along the road with the same landspeed as a three-toed sloth at the end of the run. Not my idea of fun. At all.

So, like the 5 year old I am, I rang glittergirl. To dob on D for trying to get me to do something that would only be negative to my life. And she assured me that she had tried to convince D that I wouldn’t be up for it – god bless her cotton socks.

Anyway. So in the end, i answered all of their emails with my short, succint message, that I thought captured the spirit of my enthusiasm. “Whatevs team. Whatevs.”

And so we got the name “Team Whatevs”

Until glittergirl told us that she was in a team (for another event) called “Frorets”. This, imaginatively, is short for “frolicking retards” – coined by her hubby – very farken funny indeed, more so if you actually knew glittergirl. And I like it so much that we are now called the “Whatevs slocos” – sloco being short for “slow coaches”.

So, if you happen to be at the Melbourne Marathon and you see an overweight girl clutching her chest as she has a heart attack, crawling towards the finish line (probably the 10km, but the result will be the same!), give her a shout and yell “Whatevs slocos!” – it will be me, and I will appreciate the support. I sure as hell don’t get it from my good friends.

Fabu-loose

So, it started with a few quiet after work drinks, as they often do. My flatmate and I headed to a rather classy, sedate establishment in the city, at the Paris end of Collins Street and we supped on French champagne and chatted about love, life and laughable lads.

We then walked to another less fabulous establishment (her choice, not mine) and finally made it to one of my favourite bars in Melbourne - Cookie. It was all going very nicely until someone mentioned a new roof-top bar that had opened.. and suggested we go and have a look. So we did. And it was a wful. So we decided to knock our drinks back and get out of there.. And in hindsight that was probably the beginning of the end.

We ditched the city and headed back to the heartland – South Yarra and our beloved Chapel Street.  And for those who think that flatmate-that-I-love and I go here to be scene queens – in fact it is quite the opposite – we go here because it is within staggering distance to home.. So, we headed to another favourite, Electric Lady Lounge or Lady Bird or whatever it’s called.. This is a nice bar and reminds me of home (Sydders) – it’s a bit pretentious, but jam packed of the beautiful people out to see and be seen. I love it.

We stumbled to a couple more bars and were then going to hit the old “guarantee” bar (mentioned previously in this blog – name omitted – we don’t want you all rushing there – our 100% success rate might drop!) when my flatmate suggested Revolver. Shudder. I have succesfully avoided Revolter since I moved here (have been there many times previously when on holiday to Melbourne) and was proud of never having graced it’s seedy, steamy innards while living about a kilometre up the road. But it was late.. and I was drunk. So I said “sure!!”.

That was the mistake right there. We walked in, my hot, blonde flatmate and I, and boys were on us like flies to honey. And did we care? Not at all! We chatted to them all, flirting up a storm, having drinks bought.. getting drunker and drunker, and of course more glamourous by the second. It was when a few cornered me demanding to know why I was paying others attention also, that i realised it was time to leave.. so we did what any two respectable girls would do – said we were going to the toilet and did a runner out the back door so as not to have to face these less than salubrious types again.

We found ourselves in a dark alley (god only knows where, I certainly wouldn’t be able to find it again) and headed towards the light.. At the light, we stumbled across (shock, horror) MORE boys who asked, “do you girls wanna come to Revolver?” They jumped back when we both yelled emphatically “NO!”

They settled for a gay bar nearby and we sat and drank.. um.. I don’t remember, until the wee hours of the morning. And as harsh daylight began to appear we realised it was time to go. If I had met the orthopaedic surgeon at any other time, it might have been something special. But alas. I was being fabu-loose and it was more certainly not to be. Har, har, har, har.

Busy little worker bee

Thanks to the few of you who have asked where I am and also wanted to know why I haven’t updated my blog recently. The truth be told, I have been blardy busy with my actual real job of late. Well, that and playing computer games online…

So, I went to be the flatmate’s support for Oxfam the other day and was talking to her other support crew member (yes, there was only two of us). Anyway, so he asks me if I play a sport.. And I can’t help but laugh.. And he wonders why.. And I tell him.. That I am a massive computer geek, who lately, is not only obsessed wtih Scrabulous on Facebook, but has also discovered Scramble and the plethora of other massively geeky games in the Mindjolt games suite. He looks at me, almost in disbelief (thankfully it wasn’t digust), and stammers, “Um.. computer games?”

“Uh-huh,” I say, “I love them. I play them til well into the night and often when I am at work. I have met people by playing the games. I’m not even embarrassed by them”

He shakes his head. “You don’t look like a computer geek.”

I sigh. I nod. I sigh again. I can’t help who I am, my friend, I can’t help who I am.

Then Saturday night I go out and get so drunk that I don’t remember leaving the bar I was in, I don’t remember falling down the stairs (apparently, it was HILARIOUS to watch – I can only imagine with the various bruises I have). I don’t remember getting into a cab, getting into my house, getting into bed, or anything at all, actually, until 7.37am (I don’t even get up that early on a school day!) when my raging hangover and inevitable feeling of “oh no..” kept me from more slumber.

Just goes to show that being a massive computer geek and a clumsy drunk are not mutually exclusive traits. Who knew?

A tale

Was out for work drinks on Friday night and one of my colleagues had a rather large amount to drink. Actually, we all had rather a large amount to drink, but you know how sometimes you drink and drink and drink, and DON’T get messy - well, that was me. And other times, you drink and drink and drink, and DO get messy – well, that was her. And it was hilarious!! She is a gorgeous girl anyway, but was being exceptionally eager, friendly, smiley, happy on Friday night. Straddling colleagues, chatting to (note – I wrote “to”, not “up”) random strangers, making sure everyone was having a great time, and just generally being the life of the party.

Which was great.. until we got to the Crown casino to meet another colleague, who happened to be out with my customers. Um. Right. Customers. I wasn’t fit for human consumption, let alone customer consumption. So I politely made my excuses, said that we needed to go home, and dragged my friend/colleague away. To another bar. Downstairs. Oops.

So, we’re in this bar and excusing the stupid Canadian who was acting like an American (I pointed this out to said Canadian and it didn’t go down to well), it was loads of fun. We met some randoms to talk to and drank shooters, beers and spirits although at one point I turned around, wondering where my friend was. Oh, there she is.. talking to those guys..

One of whom was.. Andrew Johns! Yes. Andrew Johns. And my colleague had her arm around him, telling him about the play she was going to write and enter into Tropfest, about how much she loved her husband, about her two pet dogs that were way too cute, about rugby (she was telling Andrew Johns about rugby!!), etc, etc, you get the idea. I wandered over and rescued him.. he was grateful (and told me I had a deep, sexy, husky voice- another entry on that) and a gentleman and, much to my disdain, not very drunk at all. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he was sober.

Ten minutes later, my friend escaped again and I was relieved to see she wasn’t talking to Andrew Johns. Oh no. This time, she was talking to Carmichael-somebody.. I didn’t know who he was (although can certainly admire a fine looking young specimen when I see one) but the people we (well, really, I – as my friend was off on her own crusade) were talking to explained that he played for Brisbane in the NRL. Again, she was his best friend and again I had to rescue him.

Long story short, the night was a good great one, even if I did get home at 4.30 (my friend left half an hour before me, lives a half an hour further away and got home half an hour later? Hmmmm.. And for those of you reading who don’t know who these two fellows are:

http://www.abc.net.au/reslib/200708/r172965_652879.jpg

 

http://i.pbase.com/g5/17/628117/2/67876383.YScBcSM6.jpg

Mates for mates

Flatmate-that-I-love recently bought an apartment (congrats Ellereah – it’s gonna be great!!) and is moving around the corner. I am so excited for her as it has been something she has looked forward to for a while. But there is one member of our household that I think will be devastated when she goes and I don’t know how to explain to him that his other mummy has gone away.. Mate the turtle isn’t going to know what’s hit him when the flatmate no longer leaves her knickers on the floor for him to sleep in.

But not as concerned as I am for my flatmate.. She is going to love having her own place and love having her own space.. but I think she might miss the little thing that she has come to love nosing up against her foot when she turns the kettle on in the morning, or comes out to surprise her from under the couch when she is watching TV. (I secretly think she is going to miss having Mate go through her smalls when they have fallen off the clothes horse also, but we won’t go there). So I suggested to flatemate-that-I-love that I get her another turtle as a housewarming gift. They are the easiest things to care for – I go away for a week and Mate hibernates under the couch, he is so low maintenance it’s not funny, and he is clean and cosy wandering around the loungeroom.

I just need to convince the flatmate that it’s a good idea..

Amusing little tale..

Just got this on email.. (Springvale is a southeastern suburb of Melbourne)

Ordering a cake by phone:
Cake-shop employee answers phone: Harro, dis Springvale cake-shop, how can I herup you?

Customer: I would like to order a cake for a going away party this week.

Cake-shop Employee: What you be want writing on cake?

Customer: Best Wishes Suzanne… underneath that…. We will miss you

(turns out you can’t see it that well, but it says:

“Best wishes Suzanne. Underneat that. We will miss you.”

Keating… er… Hawke

Had my gorgeous mum here for the weekend and I took her to see “Keating” on Sunday afternoon. For those not in the know, Keating was an Australian prime minister famous for wearing double breasted Armani suits and calling Australia (the nation that elected him as it’s leader) “the arse end of the world”. So all in all, the perfect candidate for a musical comedy. One of the actors did an excellent impersonation of that other memorable Australian Prime Minister, that being Bob Hawke – a true silver fox if ever there was one. And it reminded me of these pics that did the rounds a few years ago. Yes, ladies and gents, the guy with grey hair (who is about 40 years older than all the other people in the happy snaps) is a former Australian head of state. And that makes me proud to be Ostrayan. (Especially the third one where it looks like he has nestled into this girls boob for a wee nap!!)

    

Another T-shirt

Saw another great T-shirt and just wanted to put this for everyone’s enjoyment. (I (have never been to) NY).

 

Bad jokes

Had some friends over the other night, and the evening degenerated.. into bad jokes that usually wouldn’t have been funny, but after a few beers and some laughs already, were farken hilarious.. So I got to thinking about some of my favourite dodgy jokes.. And even though a few of them have been favourites for a long time, so more than some of you have already heard them, I thought I would share a couple now (as well as a few new ones I heard the other night).. who knows, you might not have heard them and they may drag a smile from your tightly clenched lips..

Q: How was copper wire invented? A: Two Sctosmen fighting over a penny.

J: Two parrots were sitting on a perch. One looked at the other and said, “is there something fishy about this?”

J: An Englishman, an Aussie and a Saffer are sitting in a bar in London. The Saffer skulls his beer, throws his pint glass in the ai, pulls out a gun and shoots it, shattering the glass. The Englishman says, “what did you do that for?” The Saffer replies, “In Sarth Africa, we have so much sand, we don’t drink from the same glass twice”. Then the Aussie skulls his pint, throws his glass into the air, pulls out his gun and shoots it, shattering the glass again. The Englishmen again asks, “what did you do that for?” To which the Aussie replies, “In Ostraya, we’ve got so much sand, we also don’t drink from the same glass twice.” The Englishman thinks about this and drinks his own beer in one go, pulls out his gun and shoots both the Saffer and the Aussie in the head. The bar man turns and says “what did you do that for?” And the Englishman replies, “In Larndarn, we got so many Saffers and Aussies, we don’t drink with the same ones twice.”

And my all-time, favourite dodgy joke:

Q: What’s ET short for? A: He’s only got wee legs.. (heh, heh)

Feel free to add your own personal faves..

The date

Am back in Melbourne town now, after a fab sojourn to the harbour city. Thanks to all and it was so, so good to catch up with everyone. A big thank you to Loulou for letting me stay and of course for my hot date. “Hot date?” the rest of you ask…

Well, Miss Loulou rang me the day I arrived in Sydney and asked for a favour.. She said she had been asked out by a gent who had forgotten that he had a friend arriving from England. He asked if he could bring the guy along, and therefore, if LL could find a ring-in as well.. And I happily agreed to be the ring-in. I don’t mind talking to the uglyside-kick so that my friend can get some ackshon. I do it with pleasure as my friend duty.

So, we got ready.. and headed to the arranged meeting place.. and checked out the boys. And man, oh man. The love I was feeling for LL was abounding. A tall, good-looking, well-spoken English doctor. Hello!! Drinks and dinner and more drinks followed and all in all, a farken great night. With a hot dude. Even LL agreed I got the better end of the stick.

High fives Miss L!

Hilarious!!

I think quite a few people have seen this but I was just sent it and had to laugh – out loud and hysterically in the office.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LxXiEgbLlg

Even better than the dirty dancing one that went around a few years ago.. (for those who missed it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYhlm9GTAQ0)

One more Ben Cousins joke..

A colleague was reading my blog and sent me this.. they just keep on coming.. apparently this was seen in Melbourne the day after his notorious meeting with the law. For those not in the know, the hottie (that is Ben Cousins) has a nasty-ass tattoo saying “Such is Life” across his rock hard abs (a nod to that other Australian bad-ass, Ned Kelly – wikipedia it if you’re not sure who I’m talking about people… http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ned_Kelly)