Dunno.....?

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_z38Be3Iv8os/SQFFJx7ROxI/AAAAAAAABKk/r7AjIPxraA8/s400/undecided.png

My work's going to organise for us all to get the swine flu vaccine this Friday.

I told my dad this morning and at first he was cool with it, but then while I was at work he called and insisted that I hold off and get it later because it hasn't been tested enough and Australia's the first to use the vaccine.

I'll admit, I have my reservations.

I told everyone at work about my dad instilling the fear of God in me, and then I proceeded to instill the fear of God in them. Everyone was googling the vaccine like crazy and I felt a little guilty for having caused such a commotion. To be honest, I am concerned, but then there's this other part of me that says, everyone makes a big fuss about vaccines in general and so far they've been alright. Plus, I can't be bothered organising it myself if work's going to take care of it.

What should I do?

Meanwhile, speaking of medical miracles and interventions, how much does Betadine rock? I kid you not, my hands, hip and knees have scabbed over in record time and I can almost trick myself into believing that my foolish fall of Friday past never ever happened.

If only I had Red Bull Wings...

http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/staticfiles/NGC/StaticFiles/Episodes/Jet-Man/Images/flying-contraptions-3.jpg

On Friday night my sister and I watched the Symphony at the Sydney Opera House. It was a treat. We ate dinner on King Street beforehand and walked in record time to make the 8pm session. When the show finished we were so knackered that we just wanted to go home. We didn't really say anything worth noting. In fact, most of the time we just looked at stuff and made random comments like "My feet rully hurt" or "My hair is crazy itchy, I need a shower" or "That person's wearing pink shoes" and then we'd laugh like we'd just said something incredibly hilarious.

Anyway, the point is, when we changed at Central from Circular Quay to make our way home we were definitely not in the mood or the mindset to hold a genuine, coherent conversation. In particular, small talk and polite chit chat was a no-go.

So when we were greeted with the sight of our old maths teacher (with her hubby in tow) standing all but 2 metres away from us, we recoiled, took a ten million giant steps back in horror. We were too tired, too smelly, too over it to want to have to deal with it. We quickly hatched the perfect plan.

You see, the problem was, that this maths teacher taught both of us in different years, lived in our suburb about 800 metres or so away from our house and didn't really like either of us, because we weren't exactly exemplary maths students. This meant that in order to avoid speaking to her, our plan would need to combine three key factors: speed, timing and super reflexes. She was in the carriage next to ours, so there was no room for error. We needed to be perfect.

As the train pulled up at our stop, my sister and I looked at each other and nodded in unison, our plan ready to be unleashed.

Vrooom! went the train doors.

We sprinted up the three flights and continued the sprint to our car.

"Where is she? Is she behind us???" I gasped lurching down the steep hill that leads to the busstop.

"I dunno, I dunno" huffed my sister from somewhere behind me.

I decided to sneak a peek over my shoulder like those Olympic athletes do when they're leading the pack in the long distance events and they're scoping out their competition. We were virtually in the clear.

But alas, that was to be my downfall. I should've known that someone as athletically challenged as me wouldn't be able to handle simultaneously looking over my shoulder while running like the wind in the dark with inappropriate shoes on.

I got disorientated, stubbed my big toe on an invisible tree root and was airborne for what seemed like an eternity.

God I wish I had wings.

I skidded face down on the concrete and skinned both my hands, my right elbow, my right hip, right knee, right foot and completely destroyed my shoes.

"Did anyone hear? Did she see that?" I hissed to my sister who by that time had caught up with me. All I could think about was old high school maths teacher peering down all school teacherish at me and warning me that running was not allowed in the playground.

"Nah she didn't! Don't worry, who cares if she heard!!" my sister hissed back, as I gripped on to her arm and hobbled across the road. And it was only then that it dawned on me.... Oh yeah, why did I really give a crap, it's been 7 years I finished high school!

And so I went home a miserable, full of regret, bruised and bleeding.

I will never ever run away from my high school maths teacher again.

My trashed shoes:

Injecting a little raunch into those handsome Disney heroes...

Today, as the work day was drawing to a close my workmate and I start talking about our favourite cartoons from Agro's Cartoon Connection.

I cited James Bond Jr, Captain Planet and Conan the Adventurer as three of my favourite cartoons, if only for the perve factor.

(http://www.geocities.com/zimlovesearth/hello.jpg- James Bond Jr is the guy with the brown spiky hair, red t-shirt, blue jeans and cool retro jacket in the background. He has biceps of steel and looks mighty fine in a white V neck chesty Bond t-shirt.)

Meanwhile, my workmate had never heard of James Bond Jr or Conan the Adventurer, but had heard of Captain Planet. She decided to google James Bond Jr and declared:

"Yeah, he's pretty hot" before launching into her own analysis of which Disney cartoon characters she found the hottest:

"Omg! Eric the Prince from the Little Mermaid is soooo hot, do you remember him?? You have to remember him"

I myself couldn't remember Eric, and could only think of Sebastian the crab. My workmate stared back at me incredulously before spinning around to launch into a feverish Google search for the perfect image of Eric the Prince.

Imagine our surprise/delight when, amongst all the images of Eric the Prince that Google could find, we were confronted with this:

That's right, a pornstar/male model version of Eric the Prince!!!

We decided to google some other Disney heros and discovered that a guy called David Kawena (davidkawena.deviantart.com) has created a sexed up version of all our favourite heros! And since I've always found Prince Adam from Beauty and the Beast to be supremely handsome, he was the next to be searched, and lo and behold out came:

http://seedinteractive.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/Prince-Adam-Beauty-Beast.jpeg

Needless to say, we lost it completely- and yes, we couldn't stop staring at the size of his *ahem* either.

For more of the awesome artwork, check out his site (davidkawena.deviantart.com), or else Google has a lot of them if you search "disney heroes davidkawena."

When Mars came to Earth and went back again...

Today's weather forecast was:

"Sydney 18°C - 21°C . Very windy. Raised dust."

Raised dust, huh?

Check out these pictures and tell me if "raised dust" is anywhere near an accurate description for what went down today:



http://www.smh.com.au/photogallery/environment/dust-turns-sydney-sky-red/20090923-g0tw.html?selectedImage=44

And here's what my front yard looked like this morning:

As compared to:

and:

So, anyhow, I think you get the point: There was A LOT of dust everywhere.

One of my workmates moaned that when she went outside to drive to work, her car was like camouflage and she honestly couldn't see it anywhere. She then found it and rang her mum to announce that she was too embarrassed to drive it to work. Her wise mum replied that everyone's car would be exactly the same in grubbiness and my workmate conceded that this was indeed true, and drove into work.

As with most headliners, the weather spawned some pretty funny email forwards:

1. Kanye's take on the dust storm:

Or this one forwarded from a workmate:

"Subject: FW: freaky!

And the lord swept the city in an extraordinary sandstorm.... Matthew 9:23 (look at the date today!) "

To which another cluey workmate responded:

"i googled it and I cant find that verse "

To which another one replied:

"Google tells me Matthew 9:23 is:

9:23 And when Jesus came into the ruler's house, and saw the minstrels and the people making a noise, "

Clearly we were all very productive at work today, but that's how big of a deal this dust storm was.

On a parting note, here's my favourite picture of the day:

http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/indepth/sydneysiders-tell-of-dust-experiences/story-fn44v660-1225778634363

When Grown Men Play Tetris...

Today on the train ride home from work I sat next to a man with greying hair, a stern frown and perfectly trimmed cuticles. I looked up as he sat next to me and then shoved my head back into my book as I always do when strangers sit next to me/try talk to me/ generally encroach on my personal space.

I didn't notice what he was doing for the first couple of minutes. I heard him shuffle around in his briefcase, saw him flip open his laptop out from the corner of my eye and listened to him clear his throat in that official way which suggests that there's some serious work to be done.

Next thing I know and he's huffing angrily, legs are twitching and his elbows are jerking around like crazytown. I sneak a sly peek out of the corner of my eye to see what could possibly invoke such a physical reaction.

Tetris.

And he was losing.

Badly.

I watched as the lines of blocks full of gaping holes crept higher and higher until there was nowhere else for the pieces to go.

Goner.

He tsked with contempt and slammed his laptop shut before stomping up the stairs and getting off.

I'll be honest, I could feel his pain- there's nothing more annoying than losing tetris, this deceptively simple concept of stacking blocks teases and taunts, the clown music makes us lose focus, the pieces come down faster and faster. If our reflexes are honed, we win. But a lapse in concentration and we've failed to execute the simplest task of tessellation.

This year Tetris celebrates its 25th Birthday.
(http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2009/06/happy-birthday-to-the-greatest-game-ever-tetris-turns-25/) and the fact remains that it's not always about the snazziest, fanciest, trickiest. It's just about addictive, easy fun.

Check out Guillaume Reymond's homage to tetris, in his creation: "The Original Human Tetris":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0LtUX_6IXY

And here's Man from Mars' tribute to this all around magnificent game:

Song of the Week

http://www.katemillerheidke.com/

The Last Day on Earth- Kate Miller-Heidke.

The whole album is awesome.

Ain't life grand...

http://fc00.deviantart.com/fs26/f/2008/183/b/8/Let_the_good_times_roll___by_Tinnaaa.jpg

This weekend I saw Man from Mars for the first time in three weeks. That's rather a long time. He had exams in Melbourne you see, so the first week he was swotting like a nerd, the next week he was executing his exams with swotter's prowess and this week he had his final assignment due. College of law officially done and dusted and this weekend marked the start of his non-study (at least for a little while) era.

It suffices to say that we had a grand time.

I arrived at 8:40 pm fresh (or very smelly) off the bus from Sydney, and we chowed down on some of his famous penne, mixed in with his sauce which he ripped off me, but added his own red wine twist. He was angsty because his special sauce was missing a vital ingredient. He knew he'd put the red wine in, but his sauce was missing that something, that depth that separates the special sauce from the ordinary paste:

"Barbecue sauce" I declared after I took one look at his sauce.

His eyes widened because that was indeed, the missing ingredient. Lucky he ripped it off me, because I knew what was missing pronto. In went the barbecue sauce and down went the pasta.

Saturday was spent at Myer's One Day Only sale. Man from Mars shattered some of the excitement that a One Day Sale evokes, by explaining that it's a strategic move on Myer's part to get rid of decade old stock. Unpeturbed I walked in and searched for the ideal bikini and a sundress. Unfortunately, Man from Mars' theory was spot on and the deals weren't all that special because the stock wasn't all that there. We departed with our super boring purchases- him, a business shirt and me, nude stockings.

Then we rocked off to a cafe called A Bite to Eat a Drink as Well where we enjoyed the biggest "bowl" (translate oven baking tray) of chips you've ever seen, bruschetta and spanish eggs. Good food, huge portions with a particularly Melbourne vibe for a Canberran cafe.

Next stop was Floriade which is a world renowned flower show. Huge garden beds of tulips, daffodils, roses, poppies as well as a ferris wheel that was speeding way too fast, with each of its cages swinging wildly and little kids on board screaming out in fear (aren't ferris wheels meant to be for the very young or geriatric?) Anyway, we ended the day with a giant bowl of Pho which is vietnamese beef noodle soup and headed back home enormously full and satisfied.

Today we woke up late, ate breakfast, had lunch an hour later and I rocked back onto the bus to Sydney... Tomorrow it's Monday (already!) and I can still remember how excited I was on Friday. The weekend goes way too quickly. It's like whoever is in charge of making time tick, makes it tick faster on Saturday and Sunday than it does on Monday and Tuesday. I reckon whoever's in charge of time, Mr or Mrs Time Maker, should make every effort to ensure that time passes slower on the weekend. Yes yes, I know it's the Earth's rotation that governs time, but I refuse to believe that all the fun that's had on weekends is responsible for making it go by so quickly. I prefer my own theory that someone up there in the Galaxy of Time is spinning the Earth faster to make Monday come too soon.

So if you're up there and you can hear me, can you kindly please try and make next weekend and each one thereafter go slower than Monday and Tuesday?

My "Did you just say what I think you said?" Moment of the Week

http://blogs.brisbanetimes.com.au/citykat/dirtytalk.jpg

Today I accidentally said to my workmate (in response to her wanting to know what Alohra! means in Italian- apparently people say it all the time but no one can define it in English):

"Hey I know, I can arks this Italian guy from my old work!"

Geez did I get whipped for letting that one slip.

Workmate: "Omg did you just say arks?!"

Me (defensively): Yeah, sometimes I get lazy and it's easier than saying "ask"

Workmate: "My ex used to say arks!!! (Cue: hysterical laughter)

Damn, I don't come from the West, so I can't really use the excuse that I got it from where I grew up.... To be honest, I kind of prefer it- you use about 20 less mouth muscles and it's much faster to say- damn straight it is. In fact, I reckon it should become a real word. Sort of like a contraction- as in, cannot becomes can't; ask becomes arks.

Makes mighty fine sense to me.

Gon' party like it's your birth-day!

http://img.timeinc.net/recipes/i/articles/08/08/kids-pizza-party-oh-l.jpg

It's my sister's birthday tomorrow! This calls for the first verse of 50 Cents' "In da Club":

Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go shawty
It's your birthday
We gon' party like it's yo birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday
And you know we don't give a f!ck
It's not your birthday!

Okay, so the song's a little inaccurate since it actually is her birthday, but the rest of it's true- Let's go sip some Bacardi!!


HAPPY 26th BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!

I haven't got her a present yet. What should I get????

Sweet treats...

Today one of my workmates introduced me to Crazy Dips:

I hadn't heard of these until today but far out! are they trippy. You suck the lolly pop, dip it in the pretty bag of sugar crystals and voila! there's a crazy party going on in your mouth like you wouldn't believe. The crystals pop and crackle and make you giggle.

Anyway, this made us all go a little nostalgic and remember those lollies that were not only memorable for their sweet confectionary appeal but also their innovative features.

(http://www.cybercandy.co.uk/acatalog/3113.jpg )

Melody Pops:

These lollies with their strategically placed holes and retractable sticks made my sister and I believe we were musicians in a symphony orchestra. Nevermind the fact that the lollies weren't necessarily designed the hold a tune, and who cared about the fact that we were always left with super sticky fingers by the end of the melody pop adventure, these sweets were genius.

(http://www.sweetstall.com/acatalog/Melody-Pops.jpg )

The Giant Ring

These lollies were strictly reserved for girls. As we sat there admiring (and sucking) the gargantuous "diamond" on our "really expensive" rings, our fingers would get stickier and stickier and the dilemma that always arise was: What should we do with this while we play? What should we do if we want to eat the rest later? The answer was always to set it down safely somewhere on a clean looking table, and savour it slowly all in good time.

(http://www.keepitsweet.co.uk/catalog/images/Ring-Pop.gif)

The Push Pop:

Who could forget the jingle: "Don't push me, push a push pop!!"

These lollies were so enormously popular in year 3, and like all things popular, it got to a point where they had to be semi-banned in my class due to the scores of kids who succumbed to the Sticky Pocket Syndrome.

We all came to learn that the novelty of sucking on this lolly that could bob up and down at our command also caused residual saliva to drip down the cylinder, onto our fingers and, if stashed away in our pockets between recess and lunch, would also wreak havoc to the insides of our pockets.

(http://everyoneknowsbest.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/pushpop.jpg)


The Warhead:

These were kind of gross, especially at the start, but they were so trendy in year 3. I think part of their appeal was the rite of passage they symbolised. If you could get through the initial sour/hot phase, and hold on long enough to reach the sweet reward, you had proven yourself to be a person who would not lie in the face of a challenge, but would face it head on, and hell, even defeat it. http://www.advantageservice.net/images/Warheads_Sour_Assorted.jpg

It felt like the same thing...

http://www.queenslandsafety.com.au/images/hazard/no_entry_sign.jpg

To get into our building at work we have this magnetic button which buzzes us in. Most people put it on their keyring or on that expander-outer-er thing that you secure to your belt loop- I forget what they're called. Anyway, you buzz it against the matching magnet on the wall to go up the elevators, to get back into the office after you go to the John, or you can even just buzz it for the hell of it, because that click! that resonates when the magnets connect is such sweet satisfaction.

Today, in an exemplary display of "Hurray, it's Fridayyyy!" stupidity, I carefully pressed my finger against the matching magnet on the wall. I waited expectantly. Nothing happened. I pushed harder. Nothing happened again. I started to get impatient and scanned the empty corridor- why wasn't the door opening?? I put my other hand on my hip and got ready to press the button that visitors press when they want to be let in. I didn't even realise that I wasn't using my magnetic button until it finally dawned on me that my damn index finger is connected to my hand which is connected to my wrist which is connected to my arm, whereas the magnetic button isn't even connected to my finger. No wonder I wasn't getting the click!

I blushed to myself. Thank god no one saw, but goshhh, what a geezer.

It's even more dumber than the time I accidentally took a bulldog clip instead of my magnetic button to the bathroom. That time, at least I realised that I was clutching a bulldog clip before I got to the door. They don't even feel the same!

Hayao Miyazaki's "Ponyo"

http://imprinttalk.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/hiyao_ponyo.jpg

I really want to watch Hayao Miyazaki's (that's him up there) new animated film, Ponyo. The Sydney Morning Herald gave it 10 out of 10, and it never gives films 10 out of 10.

I've seen a bunch of his films already, thanks to my sister's semi-obsession for them. And I confess, despite being an initial non-believer and let's admit, more than a little sceptical of the entertainment value of his movies, I am well and truly converted and can't get enough of them. They're simple, reflective, subversive, genuine and poignant. One big wild ride that always keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish.

Try them for yourself, but a word of warning: As the old adage goes, don't judge the DVD case by its cover. Especially with Miyazaki's films-- because, unless your wiser than most, the DVD cases will usually showcase odd looking fantastical Japanese "creatures" such as a giant grey upright sloth (My Neighbour Totoro) or a scary looking moving castle that puffs giant clouds of smoke (Howl's Moving Castle). In fact, more often than not you'll probably be confused by the cover, unsure of what exactly it is you're looking at or how you could possibly enthralled by this movie given that you're absolutely certain that the "fantasy genre" is not your thing.

Fear not, it's never fantasy, it's probably more real life than those multi-million dollar films claiming to be based on real life. You'll enjoy them so much, I guarantee it.

Awkward Moments on the Train

http://zinyaw.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/crowded-train.jpg

The suburb I live in is often referred to as "The Sticks". It's pretty far from the city and pretty flora&fauna-filled too. I've seen an echidna waddle down my driveway, had a kangaroo live in the backyard, found 2 frogs and a couple of ducks swimming in our backyard pool and glimpsed the odd possum scurrying across the electrical wires.

Living so far out has its benefits, don't get me wrong; it's quiet, leafy and safe. But it also means that unless you have money to burn and a car to depreciate, everyday is prefaced with a pretty long train ride into the city to work. I find myself enjoying the ride in, if only because it gives me a bit of time to psyche myself up for the day ahead. You feel like you're buying time before you have to switch your brain on and string words and coherent thoughts together.

But the train ride to work can be fraught with split second (bad) decision making and uncertainty stemming largely from the unwritten code of train catching etiquette that remains mostly undefined. For example:

1. When the train is approaching your stop and you're sitting in the inner most seat of a three seater, you get a bit nervous, adjust their hair, eyes dart around, you check out the other two people blocking your path. You contemplate when is too early to get up. Should you just climb over everyone's laps? Should you say sorry or excuse me?


2. You have just gotten onto the train, you spot the middle seat of a three seater which is vacant. The person sitting in the inner most seat to the window has their bag on the vacant seat. You want to sit in that seat. You murmur apologetically to the person in the aisle seat that you want to sit where the bag is. The person in the window seat pretends not to see you and continues to leave their bag there. The person in the aisle seat looks apologetically at you, and gets up. You lean into the three seater and murmur to the person in the window seat that you want to sit where the bag is. The person just stares dumbly back. The person in the aisle seat takes pity on you and offers their seat. They stand while you sit. You want to disappear into your seat. The person in the window seat looks at you blankly "Who me?" they goad, and it takes all your willpower not to fling their stupid bag out the train window.


3. An old person gets on the train and teeters down the stairs. He/She stops right next to you. There are no vacant seats. You offer your seat and half stand. Old person refuses. You insist, still half standing. They refuse. You don't know what to do. So you sit. And everyone around you stares daggers because clearly the chivalrous thing to do, would have been to stand. You shrink into your seat and will the train ride to be over.


4. An old person gets on the train and teeters down the stairs. He/She stops right next to you. There are no vacant seats. You offer your seat and stand up with no hesitation- no one can criticise you now, you've taken affirmative action! Old person refuses graciously. You insist. They refuse. You remain standing. They remain standing. An empty seat stares up at everyone standing in the aisle. Everyone pretends not to notice the empty seat. Next station and a scruffy looking emo bounds down the stairs and takes the seat- unapologetic.


5. You get on the train, you go down the stairs, you scope out the most desirable empty seat. Will the person next to you be coughing and sniffling? Are they taking up more than 50% of the seat? Do they look relatively clean? You decide on the seat halfway down the carriage. You sit. The person you choose to sit next to yawns continuously. They are tired. Their breath reeks. Not just stinks, but reeks. Plaque has not seen the light of the day for months. You can tell. There is no escape and you consider that a hazmat suit would be helpful right now. You stick it out for the entire trip if you are in a tolerant mood. You stick it out for one stop and feign getting off the train (before sprinting to the next carriage) if your threshold is low and you just can't take it anymore.


6. You get on the train and again scope out the seating situation. The only vacant seat is the one at the very end, in the 6 seater. It is the seat that faces the rest of the carriage. You are facing 50 other passengers. You don't know where to look. You feel like their eyes are drilling into your eyeballs. You consider sleeping. You realise that you might look funny sleeping and don't really want 50 people contemplating whether your "sleep face" is pretty funny or not. You bury yourself in your phone and refuse to make eye contact for the rest of the trip.


7. You are running late, you get to the top of the stairs at your train station and you notice that the train is pulling up. You absolutely must make this train. You trip down the stairs, storm up the platform and make an ungraceful leap onto the train. Momentum propels you into everyone in the doorway, you apologise profusely, but you can't stop, you're going too fast and you run, legs cycling too quickly, down the stairs into the lower compartment. Your shoes clatter loudly, your handbag bangs against every seat, and totter half way up the aisle until you finally flop down into a seat. Everyone looks to see what all the ruckus was about. You pant heavily and put on a chirpy face as if to say "Phew! I just made it!!!" But secretly, you're mortified because everything was so clumsy and loud and the train was so quiet. You fix your hair and straighten up your coat, pretending to not care that that was pretty damn embarrassing and you could not have been more elephant-like if you tried.

The joys of public transport.

Why do bugs come into my bedroom...

http://www.dan-dare.org/FreeFun/Images/CartoonsMoviesTV/BugsLifeWallpaper800.jpg

Last night I sat in bed with the light on for an hour watching Flight of the Conchords on Youtube. No dramas.

Yawn, legs need a stretch and I decide that it's time for some shut eye. Light goes off, computer on hibernate and I watch as the blue screen prepares to fade to black.

Something hard with mighty quick reflexes comes flying at incredible speed towards my head. It buzzes through my fringe: What the frick? I thrash around like a madwoman clawing at my hair. It lands momentarily winded on my quilt and I catch a brief glimpse of it before the screen turns black: Noooo! Don't turn off, I gotta catch the mutant insect!!!

For your information it had a hard yellow shell with purple spots- A retro variation of the ordinary ladybeetle; or so the blue tinge of the final seconds of my computer screen would have me believe... Either way it was an ugly/pretty bug that needed to be identified and captured pronto, otherwise yours truly would not be able to sleep in peace for the rest of the night.

I flipped on the light, grabbed at a Kleenex and in my haste, applied more force than necessary: accidentally killed the ugly/pretty bug. Whoops. I only meant to hold it captive until I could release it back into the wilderness like an animal loving greenie activist. Sort of felt sad for the little thing.

But it occurred to me, as I sat contemplating the ugly/pretty bug's life, that bugs aren't smart if they're going to venture beyond the realms of my backyard, and come into the foreign hinterlands of my bedroom. First of all, there are no other bugs to eat (that I know of) and the ugly/pretty bug would've starved to death anyway. Second of all, there is no other bug community (that I know of) to keep him company- so why do it if all that's going to happen is that you're going to end up hungry and lonely?

My advice to other bugs out there: keep to your playground. Don't be that eccentric explorer who wants to be the hero of the town and forge beyond the outdoor bliss of my backyard... I won't think any less of you are a conformist. There's absolutely nothing wrong with conforming in light of the treacherous terrain and unspeakable danger that comes with venturing into my bedroom.

Songs of times gone by...

http://ec2.images-amazon.com/images/P/B000009FJ2.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg

Songs for me are like photos for the visually inclined. They take me back to an earlier time and remind me of how I felt, how I viewed the world and what was going on.

I only really got into music in year 4, when I discovered that people actually count down songs for a living. On weekends, my sister and I would make a beeline for the lounge room to watch Rage and Video Hits. On weeknights, it was Ugly Phil's Hot 30. On Sunday nights it was Rick Dee and the Weekly Top 40!!! The thrill of the countdown kept us committed. We would wait with bated breath- Who would win? Who would reign supreme? (Iron Chef! Whoops, wrong show).

Anyway, this morning when I switched on the radio Runaway by the Corrs came out. Remember them? The family of four musicians from Ireland, where the three super attractive sisters would play the violin, drums and perform the main vocals while their not so glamorous brother would strum out chords on his guitar? I always felt a bit sorry for the brother, he was always shoved into the periphery because he was outnumbered by his glamorous sisters. The song is whimsical and sad, accompanied by a black and white music video where Andrea, the vocalist, spends a large portion of the clip staring forlornly from the train. It was in the top 10 for most of 1995 and I remember the first time I saw it on Rage, I got busted because I was sitting too close to the tv and so I had to scoot back and sit on a chair because my dad said I had to.

So anyway, it occurred to me that each year has an iconic song:

1994: Hero- Mariah Carey. We had to sing it for the music festival and our music teacher was in despair because she didn't want us to trill the way that only Mariah knows how. It was hot and sticky and with our uniforms stuck to our bums, we had to rehearse in a little hall for about 3 hours a day.

1995: Gangster's Paradise- by Coolio and Kiss from a Rose- by Seal. These two songs battled it out all year! It was a no brainer when they got to the business end of the countdown, we always knew it would either be Coolio or Seal and we didn't really mind who won.

1996: Ironic- by Alanis Morissette. I was obsessed with this song. Knew the lyrics like the back of my hand. Everyone in year 6 tried to impersonate her and I thought she rocked because she did backflips in her other song, "You Learn".

1997: Mmmbop- by Hanson. Three girly looking boys and the catchiest song in the history of year 7. We choreographed our PE dance routine to it, and I kid you not, the hundreds of times we rehearsed that dance, we never once got sick of the song. I still maintain the song is ingenious.

1998: I Don't Want to Wait- by Paula Cole. Only because I loved Dawson's Creek so much. Wasn't the biggest fan of the overly verbose Dawson, but loved Pacey when he got rid of the Caesar haircut.

1999: No Scrubs- by TLC and I want it that way- by the Backstreet Boys. Go BSB!!

2000: I Try- by Macy Gray. Possibly the most played song on radio that year. The big afro, the giant gap between the teeth, the raspy vocals, I loved it all.

2001: Beautiful Day- by U2. In year 11 we had to write a screenplay. This is the song I chose for the closing credits.

2002: I really liked Avril! She had 'tude and fury.

2003: There's Gotta Be More to Life- by Stacie Orrico. This song was so good. She didn't get that famous, but she sure had a cool voice.

2004: Maroon 5. Loved their whole album. I remember listening to it with my friends on the way to watch Garden State in Paddington.

2005: Karma- by Alicia Keys. I liked the fast version. Sammy and Jason on MIX 106.5 played it every day. Could always count on them!

2006: One Crowded Hour- by Augie March. I thought this song was the shizzle. Especially the big climax in the middle where it all goes huge! It was a time of change and awesome fun times.

2007: Fidelity- by Regina Spektor. Takes me back to Canada, exchange and the best times ever.

2008: One, Two, Three, Four...- by Feist. This is the song that sort of never ends. You could listen to it on repeat over and over and not realise that it's started and finished a couple of times already. A sweet, happy song.

2009: Rock and Roll- by Eric Hutchinson. Officially the "When I was looking for work" song. I bopped real hard to this song and ignored the fact that I didn't have anything to do.

Now: A tie between "I gotta feeling"- by the Black Eyed Peas (why do they say masel tof in the middle of it?) and "We are Golden" by Mika.

Whoa, what a hardcore teeny bopper. And I only just realised ...

The Afterlaugh Face

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You know when you're watching something out of this world and you're completely absorbed; sucked into the vortex that is commercial free to air/cinematic brilliance/comedic fun-- in other words, whatever it is you're watching?

And, you know those times where your mouth involuntarily hangs open and your eyes do not blink because blink-and-you'll-miss-it, that's how good whatever you're watching is?

And, you know those times when you catch yourself in the reflection of your plasma and your mouth is hanging down so low, that it vaguely occurs to you that you never knew you looked like that when you watched TV?

And, you know those times when something so hysterically funny happens that you're rocking with laughter, clutching at your belly, doubling over, recovering from whatever was so funny and righting yourself up again, sucked once again into the vortex of the screen?

And, afterwards, you know those times when you catch yourself in the reflection of your plasma and your face is still fixed in that laughing position long after the funny moment has passed: wide grin, lips stretched far far back, slack jawed and chin jutting ever so slightly forward?

That, my dear friends, is the universal Afterlaugh Face.

Gramatically correctly incorrect...

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I have this quirk where I deliberately choose to mangle the English language.

Depending on my mood, headspace, and willingness to use my brain, I'll make up words, pluralise where unnecessary, preface each word with the sound of a "h" and say everything with an ultra English accent.

I don't actually know where it came from or why it's emerged as my choice of speech, but here are some common examples and their translation:

1. Harro! Hows are youse? = Affectionate take on "hello, how are you?"
2. "Are you serial????" = "Are you serious" injected with an overriding tone of disbelief
3. "Hoh yeah..." = An expression of embarrassment- usually uttered when I've provided a fantastic display of daftness
4. "See you la-hater" = Bye now, I don't really know how to end this conversation other than to say bye in a mildly entertaining way
5. "How wrrrd" = That so doesn't make sense, my brain does not compute
6. "Hoh my god, what a boombah" = What a hog, taking up the whole seat on the train while I'm squished into the armrest.
7. "I'm trrrd" = I don't feel like talking, I have nothing to say. Please let me go to sleep now.

There are heaps more, I just can't think of them. But I use them so often that Man from Mars has taken to employing some of the terms as his own. In addition, those who know me well hardly bat an eyelid when I string all seven together in the one sentence.

The scary thing is that sometimes when I'm at work being all official and "professional", I catch myself holding my tongue. A few stray "Harro!"s threaten to escape and I realise that if any of these turns of phrase were to make their presence known, my credibility would be shot to smithereens!

Do you think I'm too far gone to untrain myself?

Cheeseburger craving alert!

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Whenever it hits 4:30 pm, me and the two girls in my cubicle get slammed with a mean cheeseburger craving: Gimme some o' that tomato sauce, onion relish, pickle and fake meat patty!!! Any fast food brand will do. In fact, we are renowned for not discriminating.

Unfortunately, today we were all feeling rather "holier than thou" and tried to stave off the craving with my emergency supply of Deluxe Cheese flavoured corn thins. Munch. Crunch. "I need some more", announced one of them grabbing for the bag.

"Same," I said.

"Me too," the other one agreed.

We all had about 10 each. That's right, the whole packet. Probably the equivalent of a cheeseburger or thereabouts. All in the name of being good healthy citizens of the world. Washed it down with a bottle of Adam's Ale and we all lolled back in our chairs, contemplating the reality that Deluxe Cheese flavoured corn thins are no substitute for the real deal cheeseburger.

"I really want a cheeseburger still," I said.

"Same", whimpered the girl across from me.

"Same", moaned the girl next to me.

We looked at each other, miserably full, that fast food craving still gnawing away and with no choice but to hold off until tomorrow when the cheeseburger slam will strike again.