Monday, September 27, 2010

Futile Emptiness



hate to be the one to break the news to you, but that sign completely negates the purpose of the sign. nothing can be intentionally empty when one intentionally places a sign in the emptiness.

Nicknames

I have to be honest. I'm not really into Nicknames. I used to want to be into Nicknames, and when I first started highschool I figured now was the time to segue myself into awesomeness with a super cool nickname that would announce my superiority and coolness before I had even met a person in the flesh: ie - Werewolf, T-Bone, Tits McGee...

But the problem with nicknames is that somebody else usually comes up with the nickname for you. So when I went around introducing myself as 'ratty', it just didn't pan out the way I had hoped. For one - 'ratty' is a really shit nickname, and two, you can't give yourself a shit nickname and expect people to call you it. It's just not in setting with the whole nickname universe.

Nicknames usually come from an abbreviation of someones name, or from a monumental feat that one has undertaken and should never be forgotten. And unfortunately I don't have a nickname shortening name, and I have never done anything cool enough to warrant a feat of excellence nickname.

And now I find myself at 30 with the stupidest nickname ever.

Basically some guy has given me a new nickname, I will refer to this guy as 'not funny' even though he is generally very nice and approachable and polite and funny- but unfortunately this nickname overpowers all that niceness and I just want to staple my peeling off shin-skin to his face.

Essentially what happened was that we were all sitting around talking about nights that we have been out of control drunk and either accidentally shit our pants, or woken up in another city type of drunk.. well I had my own stories to add to this verbal one-up-manship of drunk stories, and I told the story of the time I got so totally shitfaced that when Mark came to pick me up because I was too incoherent and disgusting to catch a cab, and I proceeded to spew Noodles (from lunch) all down the sides of the car with my head hanging out the window like a rare breed of spew dog going over the harbour bridge at 10.30pm on a wednesday night.

Then the emails start with: "Hi Noodles!", and then ringing up "Morning Noodles!"

Yeh. I don't think so.. Not Funny.

It is only acceptable to give someone a nickname based on a drunken spew mess event if you were there to witness this in the first hand, second hand spew stories can not be used to come up with affectionate work nicknames.

I hate being called "noodles".

Ratty is not happy.

Friday, September 24, 2010

The Chicken Pox Incident

A lot of times, I look back at my childhood and think to myself "what the fuck were my parents thinking??" the Chicken Pox Incident is one of those times.

When I was around 8/9 I got the chicken pox, just like every other kid my age at that time. I remember being an itchy rank mess, having baths of calamine lotion and picking my scabs in the dark. I was one pathetic lonely loser at home alone with no siblings and my toys and constant itchiness.

Then one of my parents had a brainwave.... What if we hire a red sportscar and drive to Newcastle!?!?!!

Yeah why not!!!


Umm how about because I'm really itchy and I want to be naked in the bath covered in calamine lotion, not clothed and sitting in the backseat of the car for 4 hours. pfffffffffff. But hey, i'm 9, do you think my opinions matter?? of course not, I am just a stupid itchy kid.

Did they think driving around in a red car was some sort of 'pick me up' ?? did I ever once display a penchant for cars?? Maybe if we were driving to the Care Bear Factory I might have cared, but getting in a red sportscar for the sake that it is a red sportscar does nothing for me.

In the car we go.. and I have to sit in the backseat the whole time. How fun for me!!!!!!!!! And we drive to Newcastle, which under normal circumstances sucks balls and is boring, but being an itchy mess does nothing to improve the situation.

So we drive there. And it is horrible.

Then we arrive at our destination, I am told to go into the backyard and play with the kids on the trampoline. Except I am infected with chicken pox and have calamine lotion scabs all over my face and body, and no one wants to play with me. And they are forced to sit on the trampoline with me, but no jumping! because jumping would be fun, and they don't want to have any fun with me because one of my chicken pox scabs might get loose and infect them too...



Now in my age and wisdom I can see that maybe that was the point of the whole trip, to infect these other kids with my germs so they too could have the Pox in their childhoods, because otherwise the pox gets into your brain as an adult and you turn into a zombie paraplegic (or so i've heard)

so basically in order to make sense of the most futile outing in existence, I have come up with the idea that when I had the Pox, my parents called their friends with kids to see who needed their kids to also have the pox, and we would drive there as quickly as possible in our rented sportscar (so the germs don't get away) and then make us all play together in the backyard of awkwardness.

So not worth it!... (for me)

To this day I hate red sportscars and trampolines, it just brings up feelings of itchiness and rejection.

Can't wait to have my own kid and fuck it up in weird and wonderful ways.

Lenny's Lives

I have come to the realisation that Lenny is just too stupid to be left to own devices, it's like every time I turn my back he's falling off window sills and eating medication that could kill him.

Which turns me into a nut.

Having to have one eye on the window at all times if it is open.
Having to hide in the dark with the door shut if I want to take a pill.
Don't even start me about getting other people to babysit.. "yeah he's really quite good, except he might you know.. eat your brush and die..."

last night I was lying around watching guilty pleasure tv (the hills. oh god yes) and then I realise "hmm lenny hasn't been out here in awhile" and normally he loves it when we hang on the couch together and watch the hills, he likes to give the tv a good side-eye and smirk when that knob Justin Bobby comes on the screen.

But alas, he was nowhere to be found.

That is until I found him trying to eat a piece of ribbon.

We had been playing with the ribbon earlier, running around the bedroom, playing 'chase the ribbon!!" then I left when the fun of the ribbon has run its course.

Lenny obviously had some final words he wanted to add to the ribbon game and proceeded to eat the ribbon, ofcourse being a ribbon, it's not supposed to be eaten. So here is Lenny with half a meter of ribbon stuck down his throat, which I had to pull out, and was all covered in his stomach and throat bile. Good times!!

Doesn't he know he can't eat ribbons!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! obviously not.

It makes it harder and harder to leave the house when you think.. "hmm maybe he will eat that book I left out and choke to death??" as he does have a penchant for paper. I cant leave tickets to things out because he will eat them and no venue is going to accept the excuse "my cat ate my homework"

It's always a relief to come home and and see that he has survived the day without eating a bottle of shampoo or other poisons that any normal cat would have no interest in.

6 lives left!

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Not Quite, One Year

Well, I've been in London not quite one year, and upon reflection I can see how I have grown as a person and have come to rather love this garbage strewn city.

Point 1: Travelling. What is the point of living in London if you don't travel far and wide as often as possible. It is like an obsessive compulsive sickness... I could buy those shoes OR I could buy return flights to Berlin...aside from the fact that I want to punch a representative from Easyjet in the face, they have unbeatable prices on their european flights and I feel I am wasting time right now sitting at work pretending to be working when I could be flying around somewhere I've never been for £20.

Also my passport is expiring, as of November 11, and I have no idea how long it takes to renew an Australian Passport from overseas, nor how to even get it done?? I have a feeling if I wander into the Australia Shop at Covent Garden they could give me some pointers (and cherry ripes!) so being that I have 6 1/2 weeks of passport flying left I am like a crack addict on a travel website... "just one more trip man......."

I have booked a small trip to Brussells on the Eurostar in October as my last fling, not because I have any keen interest in going to Brusells really (although I do enjoy Mussells, Belgium Beer and Van Damm Movies) but because I have to go somewhere!!!!!!!!! somewhere whilst my passport is still working. Then over my passport waiting hiatus I suppose I can do some Englandy things that are on my list: Cotswolds, Yorkshire (ripping) and Dales. I like the sounds of Dales, I could pretend to be in a poem running over hill over dale in a tiny yellow billowing dress, except I will freeze my tits off as winter is no time to be running around the Dales in a summer dress.

Point 2: Material Possessions. Back home I have a storage container full of really nice expensive furniture that I wouldn't let anyone go near until they had stepped into my vaccum sealed room and had all the dirt and grime sucked off them. only then could they come near my couch. Now my couch isn't even my couch, its some random persons couch. And I don't care what junk you put on that couch. I miss my couch, like I miss my furniture and my possessions that took me 29 years to cultivate. But it is nice having nothing except books and clothes to cart around to your next homestead. Lenny has more furniture than me.

Point 3: Angry Whiney Jerks. Whenever you travel, everyone tells you that the french are the rudest, or the spanish are the rudest, and the germans are the rudest. To be honest I haven't come across a ruder bunch of people than British People. Maybe it's because they don't take advantage of the possibilities to travel to other countries because they are so racist towards them, but they could all do with a week or two in the Mediterranean to chill the fuck out. Example:

Scene: Cafe Nero
Me: "Chai Latte please"
Barista: "Our coffee machine is broken"
Me: "No no, Chai "
Barista: "I can't make you a Latte, the coffee machine is broken!!!!!!!!!!!"

Well good luck with that Chump. FYI: Chai is tea. And doesn't come from a coffee machine.

Pretty much any activity that involves going to the NHS, the bank, the barista, the video store, GAP, M&S, will be met with some angry brit who wants to quit their job and stab you in the face.
Give me the germans and french any day.

That not quite one year went really quickly.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Tiamo Praiano

One thing I really wanted to do this year was go to the south of Italy and reenact the scene from The Talented Mr Ripley where Matt Damon kills Jude Law in a boat off the Amalfi Coast.. upon closer inspection however all the killing takes place in San Remo... but alas the trip was not a total loss.

First up though - Naples. Everyone who we spoke to said to avoid Naples because it is a shithole and a dangerous place where you will get stabbed and die. The thing is, people tell you this about every place you go to... Naples was awesome though, and all the people who are avoiding it are missing out. The thing is if you are driving through Naples to get to the airport ofcourse you will think its a shithole - nowhere has a good drive to the aiport, I wouldn't spend two seconds in Sydney if all I had seen was Cambelltown and Botany Bay.

We stayed at a B&B, and the guy who ran it said that there are many things in Naples that you will only see in Naples. ie: having to put 10p into a slot to use the elevator. The centre of Naples has an extrememly high content of UNESCO world heritage buidlings, which essentially means you cant walk 500m without stumbing into an amazing Duomo.

Alas we only had the morning to spend in Naples because we had to drive to the Amalfi Coast, via Pompei.

Pompei: I really feel sorry for those guys, first up an Earthquake destroys all their houses then after they have got the renovations 99% finished, a volcano erupts and destroys everything. sad times for Pompei.



Now we drive to the Amalfi Coast... and driving is crazy. They have traffic lights, but do you think any of these are turned on?? ha. It's a sea of hectic crazy traffic merging and doing whatever the hell it wants, but then again, you can do whatever the hell you want, so it all works out. That isn't to say we werent having a heart attack the whole time.

The Amalfi Coast is about an hours drive from Pompei, well it would be if it weren't for the teeny tiny roads.. how can two SITA buses pass each other on a road fit for one car?? anything is possible on the road to the amalfi coast.

We rented an apartment for the week in the village of Praiano, which is in between Positano and Amalfi along the Mediterranean. aka: Heaven.


Praiano is a little fishermans village with the best seafood I have ever had, we would go to a restaurant called Il Pirata and there would be a fisherman catching squid below us and selling it to the chef. Fresh!!


Our days were spent: walking the tunnel of death to the village shops for Croissants, and spending our days at One Fire Beach, listening to Jazz & 80's.

Day Trip: Isle of Capri (expensive) two cokes and a cheese sandwich will set you back €25. But the beaches are so nice it's worth it.

Day Trip: Positano.. picturesque and full of americans who don't speak one word of Italian "what does no mean??" hmm thats a tough one.

Day Trip: Sorrento - the gold coast of the amalfi coast.

Day Trip: Ravello - mountains and villas.

Loved the Amalfi Coast so much. I could live here, be a fisherman and catch squid for a living, except that I hate fishing and touching a live squid would make me vomit.

Whilst Praiano wasn't the right setting to reenact The Talented Mr Ripley, it was the perfect setting to be in The Goonies. Rocky Enclaves, aquamarine water, caves and back in the day - Pirates.

Heyyyyy Yoooooouuuuuuuuu Guuuuuuuyssssss

Wednesday, September 08, 2010

Skin!

My legs have finally peeled, despite being covered in moisturiser 24-7.... and when they did I was at work, so I did what any sane person would do...

I covered my computer in shin-skin


Then I went around and put my skin on the one person at work who has a nail/hair and skin phobia, on their computer and phone. I heard the screams for miles. The screaming continued when I said I was gonna eat my skin on toast (with honey!)

Now I have my skin in a bag.. bound to come in handy later.


At least I know i'll be cloned in the event of a zombie apocalypse.

Who wants to smoke my skin??

Friday, September 03, 2010

Chipmunks and Guns: Aka: Barthelona

Before we embarked on our trip to Barcelona my biggest concern was what type of lisp to cultivate? "Barthelona" or "Barshelona".. in the end I went for the "th"

This is Barthelona:

mmmmmmmmmmmmm Snail Tapas... seriously this still has it's eye stalks! It tasted fine, but was mentally disgusting.

Speaking of disgusting:

Soooooooo. they're nude. Why are they nude?? who knows. They aren't charging people to take photos of thier nudeness. It seems like they just enjoy being nude. The guy with the elephant penis and underpants tattoo I can understand - because he went to all that effort. But the guy who is just nude? maybe he saw elephant man and decided he liked being nude and had found a kindred spirit.

There are lots of random things in Barthelona - (naked men). You can buy a chipmunk and a samurai sword or an AK47, which they say you can just put in your hand luggage to avoid detection (nice advice! but I dont think the chipmunk would survive)

Stiges:

Coincidentally, not called Stiges...

The Train Station Incident:

"Hola, where do your trains to Stiges go from??"
"Stiges??"
"Yes Stiges! You know the Beach?? (mimes swimming)"
"No Stiges??"
Arghhhhhhhhhhh don't you barcelonians know your own beaches!!

Ahhhhh the beach is called Sitges.. I would not have been able to pronounce that. Stiges it is.

Barcelona and its Stigey beaches are the most queenslandiest equivalent I have come across. Beautiful clear blue water (the perfect temperature!) nice sand, cabanas.. and no ozone layer.

Seriously, I thought we had an ozone layer in this part of the world. Apparently not.

Sooooooooooooooooooooo Burnt.

Unfortunately I was burnt to a crisp on our second day, so on third day whilst we did the Guadi Tour I was hobbling around at a rate of 2 steps per minute. I call this part of the trip the sitting and applying of Aloe Vera Gel Tour.

So my third degree burns are tanning nicely and I will have a sic Mediterranean Tan next week for our stint on the Amalfi Coast..... on one side.