fare thee well Othello

On a solemn note, the last of the 3 black moors that I got a few months back is doing his death dance. I am saddened by this as I’ve grown quite attached to their peaceful movements and soft googly eyes. One by one, from smallest to largest, these fish have droppped off at a rate of one a month. I’ve been doing everything I’m supposed to from partial water changes, neutral pH levels and sensible feeding. I take pet care seriously. But it is obviously not enough in this case.

I will not be discouraged though. I have had many long term and colourful relationships with siamese fighters, I even had a good stab at breeding them one year… maybe I’ll go back.

Fever Las Vegas

I have bronchitis. Coughin up buckets of lung butter and drenching my bed in sweat is not exactly what I call a great Friday nite in.

But as I was tripping lucidly with a funky fever, it was somewhat entertaining at least for a while.

tank man

Last Friday nite a man stole an armoured car and ran riot over Western Sydney. He targetted mobile phone towers and ploughed his mini tank over the top causing mild to extensive damage depending on which report you read. Lots of footage showing him doing circle work and cops running for their lives. Very entertaining.

Turns out that this so-called urban guerilla got shipped to my new flatmate’s work for assessment. My new flatmate is FJ and he works in the psych ward at Silverwater jail. FJ has the honour of interviewing the most wanted man in Sydney and determining if he is a genuine menace to society or just needs someone to talk to.

nerd burger

Ok, time for me to come clean.

My attention has been drawn to the distinct lack of trashy tales on this here bloggerooni. When I started this up back in Feb I had grand visions of punching out witty anecdotes of gig reviews, technicolour spews and designer shoes on a weekly basis. But alas, as you can see by the barren walls of this blog, I havent been terribly diligent about sharing the gritty details of my little city.

As my loyal public, you should know that I have dropped down a gear on the Wheel of Party. I have shelved my Friday Form at least until late Spring. Sorry. I do intend to step up again come warmer months, but for now I am trying something different. I have gone back to school and as a result have no fckn time to party and run amok let alone compose wordy and narcissistic poems to myself.

I’ve been spending my Saturdays moonlighting as a conscientious student. Whilst this state of being has never come naturally to me, I have found once again that the best disguise is to pump yourself full of some caffeine product and hover through the day like a bumble bee. In conjunction with spectacles and a prepacked lunch, I have fooled my teacher and classmates into thinking I am one of their brainy brood. I even stage a few well rehearsed moments of clarity on cue to keep the game going for my own amusement, so it aint all doom and gloom.

But, beware. I almost blew my cover a few weeks back when I rocked up feelin seedy after an extended sesion at the Duke the nite prior. Heavy duty. I am pretty sure there were some suspicious side long glances in my direction when my head made contact with the desk on the way down. Needless to say I think I pulled it together and have resolved to never, ever load up the nite before. Class is hard enough without a hangover. Even when you have done your homework.

melbourne take II

Getting well jack of the dirty smeg crowding my aura in more recent times I once again decided to high tail it down to Mexico, this time for the June long weekend. My mission: to see just how unbearable the weather really is to a thin skin like me with view to possible permanent relocation in 2008.

My local contact is agent Rattlesnake who flew the coop south from Sydney almost a year ago. Our rendevouz was due to take place outside the domestic terminal at the crack of dawn but Rattlesnake decided to ambush me inside at the carousel disguised as a frumpy house frau in brightly coloured pyjamas and flouro ugg boots. I almost didnt recognise her and if it wasnt for her signature bourbon stained voice I probably would have belted her over the head with my hand luggage and legged it into town solo. As it was, she slipped me the right code word and we made our way somewhat loudly to the car en route to HQ.

Melbourne did not disappoint. I had another fabulous time, and the weather was great. Whilst Sydney was getting smacked about by tsunamis and flash flooding, I was strolling around enjoying clear sunshine and my stripey thermal underwear.

As usual, I went with an agenda to keep me from spending all my cash in the first bar/shop/restaurant/club/pub that I land in:

• Take a turn on the rollercoaster at Luna Park, the old ricketty one. Did this. Cost $7 and was heaps of fun. Not as thrilling as the Mighty Mouse, but very authentic and very ricketty. I was stunned to discover that this rollercoaster is actually manned by a person who controls the brakes from a little perch mid carriage. This person is not strapped in and grabs onto a long wooden handle and pulls on it when the coaster goes around a corner. When I rode the coaster, the driver was a very petite young lady of about 5’2″. Seriously. I was sitting just behind the middle section. I should have taken a picture but I was too busy holding on as we hurtled around the exterior wall of Luna Park with all its peaks and troughs. I had trouble staying in my own seat so I can’t imagine how she managed. Anyhow. If I ever find myself looking for a new job, I reckon I’d give that one a turn. Another tick for Melbourne.

• Catch more trams. This was to suss out how Melbourne compares to the shambles that is Sydney public transport. Tick. The trams are ace. They even have a service that sends you a text to tell you how far away your next tram is. Very civilised. I guess they realise that the paying public would rather hang inside sipping their soy hot chocolate then getting snap frozen on the street. I was a bit startled however by the narrow distance between the tram and the island in the road where you get on. There’s a gap of maybe 50cm between the tram and the fence. I’m pretty sure that morbidly obese people would be a traffic hazard and I was even fearful for my luggage at one point (I took 2 bags with a combined weight of 25kg for a 5 day trip… but, hey, I HATE the cold). Regardless, my bags survived. And I saw no morbidly obese people. And I didnt get busted travelling without a ticket…cos I had one this time 🙂 I even got asked directions from a drunk tourist who thought I was a local. Must’ve been the smug look from inside my warm shell of wool and goretex.

• Go back to SpellBox. Get some candles and make another personalised incense blend. This shop is inside a terrace house on a lane in the CBD. It is amazing. Its like a scene from Harry Potter with herbs drying from the roof and shelves heaving with jars full of magick. Had a palm reading this time with Ian. Pretty much confirmed what the gypsy reading with hi-octane coffee said in Feb. Tick.

• Go for a day trip or over nite jaunt outside the city. This episode found Rattlesnake, her sister Lisa and me bundled into her car fanging south west to the Great Ocean Road. Ended up at Apollo Bay at the Ocean Road Hotel with some new friends Rain and JD. Black sambuca, a juke box dance off and lots of questionable photography made this nite a highlight of the trip. Seems that everyone in town drinks at this pub including a large contingent of underage patrons there with their parents. It was a hoot. Accom was a mere $25 each for the nite, and although the sleeping quarters were a probable fire hazard and the place was most certainly haunted, I slept like the dead and didnt get bed bugs. Hooray! Another triumph for the great southern land.

• Do some culture. Went to the Australian Centre for Moving Image in Federation Square to watch Daft Punk’s Electroma. Groovy cinema in a beautiful public space. Kinda lousy flick. I sent Dazzlebatz a short scathing review after the viewing. If he still has it I’ll post it here.

• Buy some new threads. Indulged in a pair of black leather Converse then held out for days until I found the perfect farm shirt by Princess Highway. Giddy up McLeod. Looked at probably 600 pairs of gorgeous boots in every foot fetish store in town. Only tried on a couple cos my cowboy boots hurt too much to take off and put back on. A wise shopping tactic. Saved me a few hundred bucks just cos I couldnt try the beauties on. And I sooo wanted to buy.

• Eat Dumpling. Did so again at Shanghai Noodle near GayLord the shabby chic Bollywood restaurant in China town. Super dumplings for $6. Tick. Gay Lord is the real name of the other joint and is a sight to see in its own right.

• Get pissy at the Espy. Yes. I did this again. The usual boozy affair but I was disappointed that the Hendrix/ACDC cover band werent playing the nite I staggered in. Wasnt really in the mood for Aussie hip hop. Big fan of this pub. Reminds me of the Titty Twister from Dusk till Dawn with the caved in roof and grand staircase. Could easily become my local if I moved to St Kilda.

• Buy food at Victoria Markets. Another highlite. Got 3 massive chunks of quality Australian cheese (brie, cheddar and a King Island Roaring Forties Blue) for a measly $10. Lisa insisted that I try Burek, a turkish (?) savoury snack that now rivals my perpetual favourite Gozleme. Immediatley addicted. Shopping for groceries here every week would be a real treat. Even scored a brilliant car park with Lisa at the wheel. Big Tick.

Now, I didnt get to do everything I planned to do so there will definetly be a next time: football at the MCG, the Boosh at the Comedy Festival, any gig at Hi Fi Bar and Ballroom, more Brunswick street and Fitzroy action, more parmies. More Melbourne.

I got one!

The wait paid off. Got a new flattie in the mail 🙂

I will introduce the lucky person in a little while…just let them get used to their instant fame first…

elegant slumming

Finding flatmates in this naked city is a pain in the ass. I’ve been advertising and agonising about my profile, waiting around at home on glorious weekends for candidates to show up, making pointless small talk with people from other planets who want a stainless steel box to live in. Its worse then speed dating.

The best disappointment by far was the dickhead who cancelled his visit twice over 2 separate weekends and then had the hide to do a drive by and make the decision not to even view the inside of the house based on what the outside looks like. Ok, so the front garden looks like a war zone with the current porch renovations, but what a wanker. He sent me a text saying “Just went past your place and its not what I’m looking for. Sorry for messing you around. Regards Rod”. Well Rod, I am glad you didnt end up looking at my beautiful home cos I have a real aversion to your vibe and your name. You probably watch a lot of sport on TV and listen to Nova.

I am sure that the best flatmate in the world is just around the corner looking for a big room in a cute house with a cool house mate. But in the interim I’m pretty content to kick back with Peg Peg and watch the wankers walk past with their noses in the air. With FBI crankin loud and clear for all to hear.

p.s: if you or someone you know is looking for a new locale, please see my ad below

http://www.flatmatefinders.com.au/fCandidateSelection7.asp?MID=10188441&SS=2

stranger danger

Whilst huffin and puffin to work on my crappy push bike is my prefered commute, sometimes I leave the deadly treadly at home and take my car.

I drive a 85 Honda Civic with a sticker on the rear window that reads “Muscle Machine: 0 – 100 in 10 minutes” (The geezer who owned it before me must have been a frustrated body builder with low libido) . If I dont drive my car more then once a week the carby seizes up on me and dies at traffic lights. Thus on mornings when I got to bed later then 930pm and had a few bevoirs the nite before, the Muscle Machine gets a run to Lilyfield where I park to catch the light rail to work.

Yesterday on the tram ride back to Lilyfield, I received a text from an unfamiliar number. The message read “You looked rugged up!”. Granted I was swathed in boots, coat and a jolly thick scarf, but it was freezing and I feel the cold dreadfully. Thinking that someone I know is on the tram and playing silly buggers, I spin around and stare down the other passengers behind me. Noone registers. A minute later I get another message: “Bet that scarf is warm…”. Another round of face recognition proves fruitless. Right. Time for decisive action. I shoot back “Show yourself stranger!”. The response takes a little while to filter through “On tram going other way…spotted the hawke eye…going ryde way for nun’s bday…see you sooner then you see me…”. Fuckin riddles to me.

In retrospect I have come to the conclusion that the offender is probably a friend whose number is one of the many I’ve culled from my phone of late. I’m bored of making efforts with friends who don’t wanna hang out with me.

what a disgrace!

Thanks for the graphic reminder Dazzlebatz!

Oh my! I had almost forgotten what that shamozzle looked like. Its amazing what people just learn to live with. I am pleased to report that the new and improved bathroom walls are very creamy and (almost) uniformly smooth.

tuesday nite blog in

Tuesday nite TV sux.

Hence this entry.

Highlites and lowlifes of modern history shall thus be recorded… at least to keep Dazzlebatz off my case about being a tardy blogger (not that he can talk!)

– I love The Mighty Boosh. That shit is hilarious. Not sure which one I’d shag first, but Howard Moon is a damn fine slap bass player and I’m rather smitten with his mo’. On the other hand, Vince Noir pulls some sexy shapes and I dig the way he doesnt even try to act. The Boosh is a riddle of wacky wardrobes, random dancing and clever story telling. It has won me over big time. On the cover of the DVD there’s a sticker with a quote calling the Boosh “Hip, sexy and magical”. Giddy up. I’m half way thru watching the first series for the second time. I’d even go so far as to suggest that the Boosh is the new myspace. Nicey nicey zoo zoo for me and her and him and you.

– Went to see The Black Keys at the Enmore on Sunday nite with Dazzlebatz. Now that was one fine gig and a half. The support acts included Bob Log who was dressed in a real space cowboy get up with LED piping around his collar and a full face fighter pilot helmet with inbuilt vocoder mic. The main event was mad. The Black Keys delivered their soulful rock blues to a packed house. We pushed our way down to right of centre on the dancefloor after leaving our dash for position to the last minute. Darryn was worried that people would think him rude cos he is tall, but I had no qualms about that or pushing in. To the front! To be honest I dont know why most of the crowd even bothered with a dancefloor ticket cos they just stood around with their arms crossed for the majority of the big set. Yawn. I took the opportunity to get ma groove out and shake it all about. It felt GOOOD 😀 My back is still sore today though from all those reverse body rolls. Mighty fine music and decent production made the Black Keys a sweet suprise for a girl who thought she’d be spending Sunday nite at home ironing.

– CJ has moved out to a new share house in Balmain. It was always going to be a short term scenario and it served us both while the arrangement lasted. I will miss his singing, the endless river of quality wine and his full set of Global knives. CJ left behind a great kettle that I love and a couch that I dont really want. The hunt is now on for a new flatmate.

– I bought a new mop! It appears that there has been some major developments in this basic household item since I last checked 20 years ago. Got me one of those snazzy super mops with magic fibres and a matching bucket with cute foot pedal. I like.

– On the same household purchase mission I also invested in some fish. I already had the bowl and pebbles from a previous stint at breeding fighters, so I just had to get the fish, the plant and the food. Got me 3 x black fantails cos black absorbs negativity, 3 is lucky and fish move energy around. I like a lot. Peggy ignores them. She hangs out with her friend the mouse instead.

– Had birthday drinks at Nic’s on Friday nite. We are starting up a music club whereby everyone invited brings along a CD, either new or old, and shares their favourite tracks. I guess its just like book club, but better. Nic played Bloc Party and some Irish chick called Roisin someone produced by Herbert. I dug ’em both. I contributed Betty Davis “This is it”. Fiona didnt bring anything, and Greg was an impartial observer. We got pizzas delivered from the gourmet joint under Lane Cove Woolworths. Delish!