It's The Good Girls Who Update Their Blogs; The Bad Girls Never Have The Time

Tuesday, 31 January 2006

Isn't it always the way? When you're actually doing things that are worth posting about, you're too busy doing them to post about it!

That's my excuse for why I haven't been updating much lately. Because I'm ashamed of the truth - I'm completely addicted to Neopets. But don't tell anyone, okay?

Well, work has been flat out - but I'll get to that in another post (I'm sure you can't wait) - however, it's my weekend's little foray into the land of
Wake the Dead that I wanted to tell you about...

  • I dyed my hair bright red for the occasion. Of all my hair colours, the intense red really is my favourite - it makes me feel like a different person. If only it wasn't so difficult to maintain! I use every colour booster there is, and still it fades.

  • I'm not putting on black and red lace dress just shrank a bit whilst it was hanging in the wardrobe, that's all.

  • On the train, the battery in my MP3 player ran out before I'd even reached Wyong - a third of the way there. Well, of course it did. It couldn't have just run out at a convenient time, like when I'm at home with more batteries, now could it?

  • It was great to be back at Taylors...comfy chairs, clean toilets, cheap drinks (what else could a late-twentysomething want from a venue?). Anyone who's been to Club 77, where the ladies' looks like downtown Fallujah and a Toohey's beer costs $6.50, will understand why Taylors is so attractive.

  • I've never been that familiar with music played in Goth clubs, but I've never been so out of touch before. Usually I'll at least recognise a few of the songs played, but on Saturday whole hours went past when I didn't know any. I should do something about this, but I'm not altogether sure where to start.

  • On the train on the way home, a dishevilled looking lady in the carriage said she was very tired, and asked us to be quiet. So we had a sedate conversation in very soft voices for a few minutes, when she stood up and started sqawking "I'm trying to sleep! I can't believe you're being so selfish!" and then she went on about how she'd been sick, and had an operation... and of course by now she'd woken the whole carriage up. Luckily everyone else was on our side, since 1. The woman was clearly nuts (she was also muttering "Shut Up!" whenever the driver made an announcement); 2. This was a train, not a hospital; 3. As I've said, our conversation was incredibly quiet, (and I asked her this) 4. If she's so sick, what the hell was she doing on a train at 5am on Sunday morning?
    Eventually, she did move to another carriage. It's only looking back now I realise she must have been homeless; she was wearing layers and layers of clothing, including a heavy moth eaten coat, despite the 30 degree weather, and had a strange smell, like smoke from a rubbish fire. Homeless people often ride around on trains all night - as long as you don't leave a station, you don't need a ticket - and the Sydney-Newcastle line gives them several hours rest, in theory. In practice, I don't think I'll be getting the train that late by myself anymore. Even as I returned home, some drunk guy on the train yelled at me for being a "snob" because I turned away from him - only doing so because the train was approaching the station platform and I wanted to be facing it! (I'm so sick of these guys. You come across them at all hours of the day and night, usually at bus tops, train stations, and on buses and trains. They're always aged between 30-45 and they're always drunk. They try to engage young women in conversation, and when you don't respond, they become insulting and abusive. But I'll elaborate further on this in another post).

  • As soon as I got home and had a shower, I did one of my all time favourite things on Earth...crawled into bed and snuggled up with Xander. Cornershop was wrong; everyone doesn't need a bosom for a pillow, just a big, warm, cuddly cat! But when I woke up, I still felt exhausted and achey. I don't think I'll be going to a Sydney club again for a long time. I'm just too old and too tired for it these days.

    Anyway, I've been feeling really shallow seems all I do these days is work, watch TV and drink. So this weekend is a designated Culture Weekend; I'm going to visit the
    art gallery (the Queer as Folk art exhibit sounds particularly interesting), try to get along to see Munich, and who knows, maybe I'll give Anna Karenina another try...
  • Just A Quick Thought

    Thursday, 26 January 2006

    Today, I'd simply like to paraphrase the Desiderata:

    Remember, for all that the populace keeps electing Liberal governments,
    for all that there is so much we could do better,
    this is still a bloody great country.

    Happy Australia Day!!

    Shopping Insanity, and Why I Am Not Sexy

    Tuesday, 24 January 2006

    Well, on Saturday I decided to celebrate my blogger birthday by going shopping with Boof and Funky. Nothing unusual about that, you may think, and you'd be correct; shopping is what we do best. We attack the mall with a ferocity that appalls onlooking teenagers (they may be younger and thinner, but we're older and we've got alot more money) emerging only when our cards are maxed out and we cannot physically carry any more bags to the car. If you ever come with us, wear sturdy shoes and bring a sturdier disposition.

    But this time was slightly different...I completely abandoned my usual caution when it comes to clothes and ended up purchasing an outfit which I just know I'll never end up wearing. It was of course, all Boof and Funky's faults. It started when we went to Pulp shoes...a very trendy shoe store. I only ever look at shoes in a hypothetical way. I buy a pair of Doc Marten's mary janes, wear them most days till they wear out (which usually takes several years) the replace them. I've also got a pair of sandals and a pair of boots. That seems quite sufficient to me. Especially since I've got very wide feet and cannot walk in even the slightest heel.

    So whilst the guys were getting shoes in Pulp, I was wandering around when a pair of black, velvet, jewell-encrusted wedges caught my eye. Shoes I'd never wear, but I thought, "These would look lovely...on someone else!" Unfortunately, Funky saw me holding them up for a closer look, and bounded over goading me into trying them on. Which I did. Next thing you know - I don't know how - I'm at the cash register explaining that the size seven is fine, and reaching for my wallet. Like I said, I don't know how it happened - the shoes are totally impractical, will probably last about one wear before they look old, and as I use public transport I won't ever be able to leave the house whilst I've got them on. And in any case, they're just too dressy, young and fashionable for me. But I own them now.

    This should have been enough shopping hysteria for one afternoon.

    But whatever you blame - the guy's overeagerness to get me out of my constant long skirts, my own disorientation at the trendy shops, the simple fact that I needed a cigarette - worse was to come.

    We headed to Ice, which is one of those women's clothing stores lit like a slightly brighter nightclub, with the music, outfits and customers to match. It is, in short, the kind of store which I usually avoid on pain of death. But I did point out to Boof and Funky a dress which I'd seen in the window, purely hypothetical as well - I could never wear it. But upon discovering that everything instore was 50% off that day, the guys insisted I try it on as well.

    You ought to see it. It's a black satin halterneck, with a gorgeously swishy short skirt, and so low cut around the clevage it has wires in place to stop one's bosoms from falling out. It is, in short, a very sexy dress, and I'm not a sexy person; something of a beauty in my youth, perhaps (though those days are long gone), but never in a sexy way. There's something you need to be sexy that I never had; a certain poise and confidence. I've always been too damn clumsy to be sexy. It's just as well I'm not a bondage mistress; I'd no doubt drop the whip, trip over it, and knock myself out when I hit the ground, leaving my partner bound and gagged and unable to help. The missionary position gets alot of bad press, but I like it; it's the position where I am least likely to cause myself serious injury.

    Well, I emerged from the changeroom to the guy's cries of, "Wow...that's stunning" and I replied, "Well it could be, but not on me." The shop assistant asked me what I thought and I said mournfully, "I look like mutton dressed as lamb!" but she was skinny and blonde and 18 and clearly had no idea what I was talking about. However, there's one thing I like even more than dressing like Stevie Nicks, and that's a bargain. What with all the discounts that it had, the dress cost $25. So I bought it.

    So now I have a brand new sexy outfit, I'm ready to go anywhere this summer. The problem is, I never go anywhere. Boof and Funky have promised that we'll go somewhere special soon, so I have a chance to wear the outfit, but I'll believe that when it happens; and I can see the dress and shoes sitting in their bag and box at the back of my wardrobe untouched for the next umpteem years, until eventaully they come into style again, and I dig them out to give to one of my sister's daughters (at least they'll think that their Aunt Nicola is so much cooler than their mother...)

    From The Sublime, To The Ridiculous...That's Been My Blog

    Saturday, 21 January 2006

    Well, if you can believe it (or even if you can't) it's my...

    Second Blog Anniversary!

    Not bad, considering that when I started this thing I thought I'd post maybe half a dozen times and then get tired of it. (I don't know where all the time has gone. Same place as my youthful good looks, I guess.) When I started, Xander was just a kitten and I was...actually, living in the same place and working at the same place as I am now! (Though I've since been promoted and had a payrise).

    Do you know, I can't even remember how I came across Blogger. My best guess is, I stumbled across a blog I liked and figured I'd start one of my own. It's strange when I compare my posts now to my first post...I had no idea what to say! Now, here we are. Thanks to blogging, I've honed my writing skills, learned so much about so many things, met some great people, and finally, I'm actually able to call myself a writer!

    Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this post to two of my favourite bloggers,
    Non Girlfriend and Omniverse, who are also celebrating their second anniversaries this month. Let's raise a toast...may you blog on!

    All Is Not As It Seems

    Friday, 20 January 2006

    Apparently, everyone's favourite demented lunatic, Osama Bin Laden has released another audio tape (just when we all thought he was probably dead). Now that we're all scared silly of the great Boogeyman of our times...the upshot of it is, he's made his usual threats:

    "[Terror] operations are under preparation, and you will see them in your homes the minute they are through [with preparations], with God's permission," bin Laden warns.

    But in there was the offer of a conditional more attacks will be carried out if US forces pull out of Iraq.

    "We don't mind offering you a long-term truce on fair conditions that we adhere to," bin Laden says on the tape. "We are a nation that God has forbidden to lie and cheat. So both sides can enjoy security and stability under this truce so we can build Iraq and Afghanistan, which have been destroyed in this war."

    Did you get that? Osama didn't say, "We will Jihad until the infidels are destroyed, and the world converts to Islam." He said in effect, "You stay out of our backyard, we'll stay out of yours."

    The US Government has said it doesn't negotiate with terrorists. That's their perogative, I guess. Dick Cheney has also said that we can't believe Bin Laden.
    The safe alternative, I guess, is to
    trust Cheney.

    So...we've seen the efforts of the news media over the last few years to bring us the "truth". What can we believe? That Osama is not the complete monster that the US government wants us to think he is?

    I'm NOT defending Osama, or terrorists. I think September 11 was a horrendous thing. But so is the number of
    Iraqi civillians and Coalition soldiers killed because of the lies told to us by...our own governments (The US, UK and Australia).

    Who are the terrorists and who can we trust?

    Food for thought.

    Just Say What You Really Mean!

    Wednesday, 18 January 2006

    It's good to have a full time job. I accept long as you have enough work to do.

    It's not so good when you're waiting and waiting and waiting for IT to connect you to the network, and in the meantime you've got to spend eight hours a day trying to look busy (try it! It's harder than it looks).

    Still, apparently my cubicle is the place to be seen. At least, that's the conclusion I have drawn, based on the fact that if I'm away for more than ten seconds, someone else in the office pops in and logs on to my workstation. I wouldn't mind so much...but you should see the state they leave the place in! I'm going to get a motion-detector camera for my cube, with a sound file attached. When the motion detector senses someone entering, the soundfile will be activated, with an authoritative voice saying:

    "You have entered Nicola's cubicle. Do NOT chew on her pens. Do NOT leave files on her chair. Do NOT use her phone to make long distance calls. Do NOT "borrow" her calculator. Do NOT leave your half-full coffee cup on her desk. Get OUT."

    Wouldn't it be wonderful, if you could always say what you really think? I imagine blurting out the following lines:

    To Cow-Orkers
    "Whilst I am fascinated by you rambling on with your endless life stories when I'm trying to work, I think you should be somewhere else, preferably writing all of them down to turn into an epic mini-series, so that the whole world can share the joy I am now experiencing."

    (And for female cow-workers)
    "Despite technological advances in our world, the toilet paper does not replace itself. If you reach the end of a roll, please replace it with a fresh roll you will find handily located in the cupboard."

    To Shop Assistants
    "Yes, it's a lovely day and I'm feeling fine, but following me around the shop making irrelevant comments isn't going to persuade me to buy any of your overpriced merchandise."

    To My Mother
    "If I'm talking to you on the phone, and I say 'I have to go', I really mean it. Don't use it as the opportunity to blurt out 19 totally irrelevant things you have to tell me right now. I usually have no idea who you're talking about, let alone want to hear about their holidays, their kids, their operations or their divorces."

    To My Father
    "If I want to drag my feet, not stand up straight, and mumble when I talk, I will. I'm nearly 30 now and I don't appreciate you telling me off as though I am a stroppy teenager."

    To Guys In Nightclubs
    "If I say I don't want to go back to your place, it doesn't mean I'm a lesbian. It's because I find you repugnant, and don't want to share your oxygen, let alone sleep with you."

    To My Friends
    "If I ask you to call me back, I mean within a couple of days. I probably have something important to tell or ask you. Don't tell me you haven't got any credit - you mean you haven't left the house or been within a few hundred metres of a payphone in all this time?"

    To People Who Talk On Their Phones Whilst Taking Public Transport
    "Yes, you're on a bus. Well done. Everyone else on the bus is aware of this, and doesn't need to hear you telling the poor sap who called you about it."

    And finally...the next 19 year old who says to me "You're not that old" is going to get it in the kidneys.

    There...I feel alot better!!!

    Just Another Manic (Depressive) Monday

    Monday, 16 January 2006

    Scientists research all sorts of funky things these days. So I'm forced to wonder, why can't they do some research into a cure for Mondayitis? The lethargy seems to get
    everyone. Take me. I didn't have a busy or tiring weekend, and last night I was reading in bed at 9:30pm, lights out by 10pm. And for once, the neighbours did not stay up until 1am playing on their Playstation, thus rendering all sleep impossible. Anyway, I got nine hours of uninterrupted sleep last night, which is unprecendented. So why, this morning, do I feel as though I've just flown in from Europe? (because my arms are really tired! Guffaw, chortle). Actually, I am having problems with my left arm again, I can't fully extend it, or properly grip anything. This morning I couldn't even hold my toothbrush properly, and had to brush my teeth using my right hand. It was not an unqualified success.


    Finally on Sunday, I achieved a long-held ambition - I finally purchased an MP3 player.I can't get over new technology - the thing weighs 25 grams and is about the size of a stick of gum, yet it can hold 120 songs. I'd originally planned to get an iPod, but they cost twice as much for the same storage capacity, and everyone says that they break easily. There was a bit of drama after I bought it - I went to Boof's house so he could load some songs onto it (not too many, I didn't feel he should be stuck loading it all day; anyway, as I got most of the songs from his existing downloads, there's lots of Nineties and dance music on it). The songs loaded okay, but then we couldn't get the unit to switch on. We tried different batteries, worried about faults in the computer, all to no avail. I was gloomily picturing having to wait till next weekend to get a replacement, when as a last resort, I bought a new pack of Duracells. Eureka! Already I wonder how I ever survived without the thing. Now I can be as anti social as I please, sealed off in my own little world. No more having to listen to the asinine conversations of the schoolkids on the bus! Even better - I can go to Sydney without having to hear three hours of chatter chatter chatter in my head. (Well that's the theory - in practice, buying the player has left me a little broke...)


    Ususally I try to a take philisophical approach when people say things I don't agree
    with..."I don't agree with what you're saying, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it." The major exception of course being Piers Akerman; the world would have been a better place if he'd been smothered to death at birth. But I was really, really furious when I read an interview with Fred Nile on Saturday in The Herald, regarding the film Brokeback Mountain. Amongst other things, the adorable Mr Nile said that "the homosexual lobby is now as powerful as the Negroes" and "we're not worried about active homosexuals seeing the film, but we're worried about teenage boys who will think that this lifestyle is acceptable."
    Now maybe I wouldn't mind but (I bet you saw this coming) - he hasn't even seen the film!
    It always seems to be the way when someone wants something banned - that they have no idea what they're actually talking about. I particularly remember, back in 1999 when
    Lolita was due for release in Australia, various family groups were up in arms, trying to have the film banned on the grounds that it would "promote paedophilia". Suprise, suprise, none of them had seen the film; few of them had even read the book. No matter. Margaret Pomeranz organised a pre-release screening so the wowsers could see what the film was actually about, but few showed up.
    It was eventually released, and seven years on, I've yet to hear of anyone on trial for child sex offences who said in his or her defence, "Lolita made me do it."

    But I suppose teenage boys are meant to walk out of Brokeback Mountain thinking, "Oh boy, now I really want to experience some man-love!"

    As I wrote here a fair while ago,
    I once passed by Fred Nile walking through Sydney. I couldn't think of anything to say to him at the time, but I wish I had, and I've been coming up with witticisms ever since. At any rate, although I don't like going to the movies (I just don't like sitting in the dark for two or more hours with strangers, and get rather claustrophobic) and am not really interested in a cowboy story, and I don't much like Heath Ledger, I'm going to go see Brokeback Mountain, just to be contrary. You should all try to do the same (unless of course, you happen to be a teenage boy. In that case - watch out!)

    I Took A Stroll With My Fame Down Memory Lane

    Friday, 13 January 2006

    (I never did find my way back)

    Recently I went to JB HiFi. Like the uber-hippatitis sufferer I am, I purchased some great stuff, like a CD of Nick Drake rareties, unreleased Black Grape singles (Japanese import only) and...

    OKAY, OKAY, I ADMIT IT! I bought the Take That Collection DVD!

    And I must say, watching it was bloody well marvellous. Such fun memories of adolescence. Such as it was - teenage girls always have infatuations with male pop stars who look like teenage girls. Anyway, their 1995 concert in Sydney was one of the highlights of my young life to that stage. Wathcing the video for Never Forget actually made me feel a bit teary this week - I was one of those screaming girls, and I would give anything to go back to those days for even a few moments, just to feel that hope and energy again. I'm not looking back at my teens through rose coloured glasses - most of my life was actually pretty damn unhappy, but I'll get to that a bit later on. Take That was an escape from my problems - pure fun. I was actually very upset when the band broke up a few months later.

    However, I'm slightly bemused at the information that they're reuniting this year for a concert tour. I doubt very much that the guys have found much of a new audience - they're now all in their mid to late thirties - so who is going to pay to see their shows? I know - those same girls who used to go to their concerts in the 1990s - except now we're all nearing thirty. I can imagine that, apart from a few women who manage to drag timid boyfriends along, the audience will be full of women like myself who are reliving their febrile adolescent fantasies. Once, you couldn't hear the songs at a Take That concert over the screaming; now, you won't be able to hear over the sound of ominously ticking body clocks. Not to mention the guys. What a sight they are nowadays. And I hardly think that the high energy dance routines can be managed by men in their prostate-check years. Still, to be honest, if they come to Australia I will probably go see them. Though I won't be flinging lacy little panties onto the stage - rather something alot more supportive.

    If you've just read all that and are shaking your head and thinking "That doesn't sound like Nico...I thought she was massively into grunge in her youth?", then you're right. Take That was, as I've said, about having fun with my friends. It was about the image. It certainly wasn't the music I listened to at home. No, then I was the desperatley unhappy teenager, who played noughts and crosses on my wrist with a razor blade whilst listening to Soundgarden's Blow Up The Outside World over and over and over again. At lease if you had to be a miserable teenager in the 1990s, the music was alot better. Planet Rock Evolution's show last Sunday was a
    history of alternative rock in the 90's. It was a bit weird hearing all those if you could close your eyes, drift back and open them in a world without terror alerts, without George W. Bush, without an all-powerful John Howard (also without DVDs, iPods, text messaging...I never watched a DVD in my life until I was 21, or sent an SMS until I was 23) and without, if you're my age, life insurance, a superannuation scheme, saving the deposit for a mortgage, a career; without laugh lines and body-sculpting underwear and eye cream (and a receding hair line if you're a guy)...Don't look back in anger, I heard you say.

    At any rate, I've decided that 2006 is late enough; this year for my birthday, I'm going to have a big 1990s theme party. The guys in coloured pants and those yellow boots, the girls in slip dresses over white t-shirts (well, no, not least because my birthday is in the depths of winter). But all 90s music, and I'll see if I can get some Sub Zeros (or some real, 1990s ecstasy...hmn, maybe not). But who knows? Maybe for party games, we'll even re-enact the Clinton impeachment. Just as long as I don't have to be Ken Starr...

    Gentle...and Relax

    Wednesday, 11 January 2006

    For all that I whinge about my job (and regular readers will know, that is a lot), it really isn't bad. We get free fruit, cheese and cake, reflexology and massage appointments, there's always drinks in the fridge for late in the day...the company looks after us. But I'm rather nonplussed by the latest development...weekly tai chi sessions. Nico don't exercise for no one. Everyone keeps telling me "Tai chi isn't'll enjoy it!". Frankly, I'm not buying it. As with the annual free flu shots (I don't believe in immunisation) I thinks that this is something I'll bypass. I just hope they dont make it compulsory. Remember in King Size Homer, my all time favourite episode of The Simpsons, when all the power plant employees are required to do calisthenics, and Homer hides in the toilet? Well, I rather fear that will be me.

    Anyway, I've come up with a new policy for dealing with problems at the office. I'm forever being told that this or that is "an emergency". Having become rather hooked on
    Futurama lately, I noticed this brilliant snippet of dialogue from the episode The Nuetral Planet:

    Kif: Captain, may I have a word with you?

    Zapp: No.

    Kif: It's an emergency, sir.

    Zapp: Come back when it's a catastrophe.

    So from now on, I'm not getting involved with any emergencies. You'll have to come up with a situation at "catastrophe" level or better to impress me (even then, I can't promise to do better than say "Relax! I'll handle it" and then ignore the whole thing).

    Burn Baby Burn

    Tuesday, 10 January 2006

    Well, it's official: 2005 was Australia's hottest year on record. So, global warming is a reality - but people still blame heavy industry for this, because they are just too lazy and brainwashed to get out of their cars. Actually, the fact that the majority of greenhouse gases come from automotive emissions is something that the mainstream news media doesn't report; they don't want people to question their need for their moron mobiles, because they're afraid of losing the dollars from their automotive advertisers.

    Then you have complete miscreants like Piers Akerman, who
    claims global warming doesn't exist at all (would anyone else like to join me in forcing this man to the top of Sydney Tower, then kicking him down ALL the stairs?)

    But I'm not in anyone's pocket. However, if you're determined to stick with your car, nothing I say will change your mind. Just don't hypocritically claim to care about the environment.

    All of this is a rather roundabout (and pontificating) way of getting to my main point; fears of rising sea levels in the South Pacific. To quote from
    ABC's Pacific Beat: "Australia's opposition Labor Party has challenged the country's government to offer the people of Pacific states hospitality if, or when, they become 'environmental refugees'. The policy debate comes amid claims that global warming could make some Pacific islands uninhabitable within the next decade. There are now growing fears that the people of low-lying island countries in the region, including Tuvalu and Kiribati, may become refugees as a result of rising sea levels as soon as 2050."

    The Federal Government has derided this plan, saying that they have strategies in place to deal with rising sea levels in the South Pacific.
    I'm sure they do. I bet the government is stockpiling water wings to send over when things get really damp.


    In yesterday's post, I stated optimistically that it would take me at least three days to lose my temper with the office photocopier.
    Well, I'm sorry to have to report that it only took me three hours. Someone had adjusted all the settings so that no matter what I did, my double-sided A4 copies came out on single sheets of A3 paper. The Receptionist saw me raising my fist and said "No, what you have to do is be nice to it!" She seems to think that you need to be nice to everything in this world. HAH!
    So I pretended to be nice to the machine, but when no one was looking I swiftly gave it a kick.
    You may say that if I'm defeated by a standard piece of simple office equipment, then I am really not ready to fully cope with the demands of the modern adult world. But you haven't come across this photocopier. It's horrid. It's nasty. It's evil.
    Plus, The Boss returned from his holidays today...four days early. You can imagine what Happy Little Vegemites were all were upon realising this.

    Life's Not Fair

    Monday, 9 January 2006

    It isn't fair that just when one is really getting used to the holidays, no longer wanting to go back to work, one is cruelly forced back into the office.

    "One" being me.

    So now it's back to the world of faxes, laptops, meetings, reviews...the only thing that's changed is my new desk calendar, which seems to have even lamer quotes than the one from last year, if that's possible. I'm not feeling too bad right now, but you watch; give it, ooh, three days, and I will be again seized with the urge to toss the photocopier out the window into the traffic (it's a good thing that that damn machine is so heavy).

    But at least I'll be posting regularly again. So you can all stop thinking for yourselves now, because I'm here. Actually, I'm rapidly approaching both the second anniversary of my blog, and my 400th post. So if I post nearly everyday, I should be able to hit both milestones on the same day. (I just realised how out of practice I am with typing - I keep hitting caps lock, or the wrong letters).

    My main hope at work this year, is that people will start to take me a bit more seriously. At a meeting late last year, I voiced a (very good) suggestion to streamline the Quality Assurance process, and one of the older women in the office said, "Good girl!". I tell you, it only happens because of my life situation. There's a guy at work who's only months older than I am, but he's married with two small children. No one refers to him as "boy". Anyway, we're getting an office junior soon, so the problem should ease. I'm looking forward to it - I'm sick of having to fetch my own beverages.

    It's in marked contrast to the way I feel when I go out at night (which lately is a rare occurance) - I feel like I'm about ready for a hip replacement. When I was at GAF in Sydney for New Years, I couldn't believe how young some of the punters looked - I wondered, "Do their babysitters realise that they got out?" I particularly wondered about one kid in a NIN shirt, who looked about 15. He continuously circuited the club looking mopey. I never saw him dance, or talk to anyone, or even get a drink (his mother probably told him he wasn't allowed) - just do laps of the room with a mopey facial expression. Maybe that's what they mean by being emo?

    Anyway, if you want to torture anyone over the age of about 24, just point out to them that in two weeks, there'll be kids legally allowed in the clubs who weren't even born until after the Bicentennial. Say this, and watch the horrified look on their face.

    On the other hand, please don't torture my generation. We're old and we don't deserve it.


    Surfing through some other blogs, I found this hilarious many times have you heard the expression "today is the first day of the rest of your life"? Read'll never look at it the same way again.

    Hello Everyone!

    Tuesday, 3 January 2006

    And welcome back! I've been offline since Xmas, which at first felt like having an amputation, but I got used to it after a few days. This'll just be a quick post, as I only have a little while and hope to catch up with everyone!

    I had a good Xmas...sort of. Never got an MP3 player, sadly. For NYE I went to Sydney, which I was worried about - I hadn't spent new years in Sydney since the milennium - but it turned out to be fun (I hope that's an omen for the year to come).
    Xander and I have been coping with the heat as best we can.

    Who knows what 2006 shall bring? I've only made one resolution - learn the violin. I've always wanted to, so why not? My father went to a psychic before Xmas, and she told him I'll be getting married soon. To a very tall guy, apparently. I'm very sceptical (plus, I don't have a boyfriend, don't have a potential boyfriend, don't even have a crush on anyone particularly) but other things pychics have told him came true, so you never know...
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