Work and Stress

I’m heading off to France, Spain and Morocco in two weeks time but, joy of joys, work has decided to end our temporary contract a week early. This means I’m down one whole week of pay and for seven weeks of travelling. Not good I tell you. But, this steadfast troubadour will have to make do, won’t she?

So after some under the breath muttering about how crap work is, etc, I decided to apply for whatever job I could possibly get for a week. When the advert for Market Researcher came flashing up on the screen, like a calling from beyond, I decided to take it.

So I went to the interview last night thinking it would just be to register my details. I mean, I can read and write and did my stint tied to a headset for many years during University. It turns out I was sorely mistaken and I had to endure a Q & A session with a big eyed woman about my biggest challenges, etc. The whole time I’m thinking; “this job is £6 an HOUR I think I’ll just put the trip on credit.”

So, I’m not going to do it. I shall be poor on the trip and the weekends leading up to it. But London has something that will help me get through my hardships: 2 litre bottles of cider. What a country.

You Should All Support

This guy.

He announced to the country through the medium of 'gameshow' that he plans to ride a camel across Australia to raise money for drought relief.

He also does a mean Owen Wilson impersonation.

ANZAC Day

It's coming up. I don't want to wax political about flag waving and all that jazz as I know if means a lot of things to a lot of different people but the below song, famously covered by The Pogues, really sums up the way I feel when I try to imagine what it was like for so many young Australians and Kiwis.

"The Band Played Waltzing Matilda"

When I was a young man I carried my pack/
And I lived the free life of a rover/
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback/
I waltzed my Matilda all over/
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son/
It's time to stop rambling 'cause there's work to be done/
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war/


And the band played Waltzing Matilda/
As we sailed away from the quay/
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the cheers/
We sailed off to Gallipoli/


How well I remember that terrible day/
How the blood stained the sand and the water/
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay/
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter/
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well/
He chased us with bullets, he rained us with shells/
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell/
Nearly blew us right back to Australia/


But the band played Waltzing Matilda/
As we stopped to bury our slain/
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs/
Then we started all over again/


Now those that were left, well we tried to survive/
In a mad world of blood, death and fire/
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive/
But around me the corpses piled higher/
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit/
And when I woke up in my hospital bed/
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead/
Never knew there were worse things than dying/
For no more I'll go waltzing Matilda/
All around the green bush far and near/
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs/
No more waltzing Matilda for me/


So they collected the cripples, the wounded, the maimed/
And they shipped us back home to Australia/
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane/
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla/
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay/
I looked at the place where my legs used to be/
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me/
To grieve and to mourn and to pity/


And the band played Waltzing Matilda/
As they carried us down the gangway/
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared/
Then turned all their faces away/


And now every April I sit on my porch/
And I watch the parade pass before me/
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march/
Reliving old dreams of past glory/
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore/
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war/
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"/
And I ask myself the same question/


And the band plays Waltzing Matilda/
And the old men answer to the call/
But year after year their numbers get fewer/
Some day no one will march there at all/


Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda/
Who'll come a waltzing Matilda with me/
And their ghosts may be heard as you pass the Billabong/
Who'll come-a-waltzing Matilda with me? /


I can't really write anything without sounding cliched so I'll leave any readers to draw their own conclusions and imagine and remember in their own way.

This Exists

"In the 1986 film "Meatballs 3: Summer Job," Sally Kellerman plays a deceased porn star whose only ticket into heaven is to help a nerd (Patrick Dempsey) lose his virginity at summer camp. " - From WNBC

Put simply I would enjoy nothing more than to watch this movie.

Annoying Adverts: I take it personally

I'm home sick today. This is bearable due to the weather being extraordinarily awful. However, I am actually sick so doing much more than moving from the couch to the bed isn't likely.

As readers of this blog will know, I am Australian and currently living in the UK. There seems to be a trend here of using Ocka-ness or Aussie cliches to advertise products. None, however, is worse than the "Sheila's Wheels" jingle that has already been on about four times this morning.



Holy Mole-y does this advert make me wanna kill. Not only is it annoying but it throws my whole sense of self spinning into paranoid questions such as; "Is my accent REALLY that annoying?"

Can someone run down to the video shop and put me out of my misery?

The Mackenzie Poltergeist and Me

I have just booked flights to Edinburgh will be going in a couple of weeks. This excites me for a few reasons but the most prominent are:

• it is a chance to get drunk in a new environment
• I can buy one of those “Scotty hats” with the bright fake ginger hair sticking out of them
• men in kilts with no underpants (in, what I'm told, is a windy city)
• mother-fuckin’ Haggis
• THE MACKENZIE POLTERGEIST.

Let me explain.

As a self-proclaimed connoisseur of Ghost Tours since back in 1999, The City of Dead tour in Edinburgh looks like an absolute corker and will probably even beat the Port Arthur one AND the York one, even if the York and Port Arthur ghost tours tag-teamed it, THE CITY OF DEAD tour would kick it’s ass.

Anyway, they have this poltergeist and he’s really mean and he makes people faint and scratches them and stuff. I wonder if you went on a tour like this and everyone got scratched or possessed if you’d feel a bit left out. I’d moan, in a sad-sack sort of way, that the ghost didn’t like me enough to possess me.

Anyway, I am most excited (not the English inflection in my tone) about what might be a rather exciting excursion as far north as this little Antipodean has ever been.

*squeals with excitement*

I'll let you know how it goes.

Hangin' Wid Da Bollywood SUPASTARS

Just a quick one to tell you that I circles and am high. Sorry, move in high places. Sorry, move in prestigious circles? Bollocks. I can't really remember what the saying is.

Anyway, my mate was an extra and he totally got the zoom in and everything. DOES LIFE GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS?



Anyway, he appears at about the 2 minute 23 second mark and is wearing a red hoody.

Keep your eyes out for his zoom in, circle fade and professional acting skills.*

The film is called Kehna Hai Jo and is about a guy who meets and falls in love with a spirit, who is actually a girl trying to get back into her body so none of the people passing by can see her. I love this stuff.

I'll keep an ear close to the ground for Oscar nominations.

*note, he is playing bemused passerby.

That's Out of Order Simon

The lead singer of the Ordinary Boys, Preston, stormed off the classic-laughed-so-hard-a-little-bit-of-wee-came-out show, "Never Mind the Buzzcocks." Preston got the hump when he was not so subtly mocked by Simon Amstell; the host of the show.

Thought I'd include this clip here for your enjoyment.

For the Aussie readers out there, his wife Chantell was the winner of Celebrity Big Brother over here and is sort of a poor woman's Sophie Monk; ie, she used to impersonate peoples more famous than herself in order to become famous, even if mediocre-ly - should that be a word.

Here it is:



And part two:




Also - look who it is in this clip. MADGE! We salute you.

Pete Doherty Totally Does

Peter Doherty totally shops at my Bagel House. This is great because it means that no matter how drunk I am when I go in there, I look relatively normal in comparison. Awesome.

Pictures

These are some photos I took of La Paz, the administrative capital (not to be mistaken with the actual capital of Sucre) of Bolivia in South America.

Wikipedia tells me that La Paz has a population of approximately 1 million, but this does not include the suburb of El Alto on the outskirts of the city which could be more than half that as well, but it is difficult to estimate due to the large numbers of poor regional immigrants that live there to seek work in La Paz.

It is also one of the highest cities in the world which means that you need to move quite slowly to avoid getting out of breath. It is also shaped like a moon crater meaning that the journey from the hostel to anywhere normally involves at least on oxygen-thieving uphill journey.

This city was full of life and, whilst I had a couple of negative experiences here, the good outweighed the bad. For the most part the worst thing that happened to me was nearly collapsing from trying to walk uphill, the altitude causing my beer to be about 80% froth and trying to resist giving all my money and wares to the gorgeous, black-eyed Aymaran children.

It’s been more than a year since I visited there but would strongly encourage anyone with the means to go there. I will be updating this blog with more travel and general posts more regularly. Watch this space.

Keywords: Bolivia photos La Paz

Breaking up is Never Easy

Dear “The OC”,

It was with reluctant eyes and cynicism that I first laid eyes on you. All the girls wanted you and, with your dreamy Californian style and American accent, how could I think otherwise? Still, at the time, I thought you weren’t edgy enough for me and I was in a long term relationship with “Six Feet Under.”

It was only last year that we re-united after almost two years of no contact. In a steamy hostel in Argentina, too hot and hung-over to move, I realised you were the only one who spoke my language and we connected in a way I never thought possible.

It was from that moment on that we spent countless hours together. I loved your ups and downs, your wry sense of humour and your sense of morality. You seemed to have the ability to overcome any situation: Alcoholism, pregnancy, keeping up with Newport fashion and grooming, Julie Cooper and anything life seemed to throw at you.

But then something changed.

I know Marissa’s death could somewhat be likened to large-scale societal events such as the assassination of JFK and the collapse of the Soviet Union; however, I believe it is time to move on. Her death has meant no more quips on popular culture and edgy music references. You’ve gone numb OC, and I can no longer take it.

Ryan has moved further back to the wrong side of the tracks and come back with biceps and a blood nose; Summer has turned into some sort of latte-sipping lefty and Taylor continues to yap like a Jack Russell on amphetamines. It just feels like all my friends are beyond reprisal with their one saving grace being Seth, who in my eyes, could never falter (the man invented Chrismukkah for Christ’s/Moses’s).

I know that breaking up is never easy, but I have met someone else. He looked at me with those eyes of authority and those twisting and turning plots and I knew I had to have him. That’s right: I am leaving you for 24.

We loved, we laughed and we lost. I’ll forever have a place for you in my heart.

Love,

Snub

Musings of a Daggy Daughter (who loves her Dad)

My Dad is pretty funny/eccentric/coolness…. You know your Dad is cool, in a daggy old man way, when random folk on myspace, whom you have no idea you know, comment; “Say hi to your Dad for me.” Mmm… it seems my 58 year old Father who wears sandals with socks, his pyjamas under his clothes to a late night movie so that they’re “warmed up” for him to get straight into bed afterwards and who WRAPS HIS FEET IN GLADWRAP WHEN HIS SHOES GET HOLES IN THEM IN ORDER TO AVOID BUYING NEW ONES is cooler than me.

He is quite charming, so we’ll give him that.

Dad’s latest email tells me that he wants “He finally finished something” on his epitaph. He jibes that I can “use that one” at his funeral. Yay, Dad’s writing jokes for his own wake now.

I just love how daggy Dads are though. I like that word: Daggy. It’s like dorky but not insulting. It’s not dweeby because dweebs are annoying. It’s not like nerdy because nerds are detached socially and can be cool in a really self-conscious way. Also annoying. Daggy’s like a loveable rogue dog who has so much love to give it forgets that it’s weeing all over you. That’s how I see daggy anyway and if you don’t agree with me you’re a dweeb.

Today I don’t think I smell very nice so I’m trying not to walk too quickly.

All of London has got severe PMT in the last couple of weeks since the weather has turned miserable and if you’re polite in a shop the attendant is so grateful you think he’ll give you his first born.

So, those are my thoughts for the day.

You have a nice day now and listen to more Josh Pyke, he makes me happy.

My Life in Songs: Wait a Cotton Pickin' Minute

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend your cool...

Opening Credits:
Love is Better than a Warm Trombone - Gomez

Waking Up:
Ugly Duckling - Potty Mouth (spot on there. I am not a morning person)

First Day At School:
Andy Warhol - Little Birdy

Falling In Love:
Hotel Yorba - The White Stripes

Fight Song:
Go Frenzal Go - Frenzal Rhomb

Breaking Up:
Calm - Epicure

Graduation:
U.S Anus - Frenzal Rhomb

Getting Back Together:
How to Be Dead - Snow Patrol

Wedding:
Isolate - Epicure

Birth of Child:
Welcome to the Cruel World - Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals (swear I did not cheat)

Final Battle:
My Happiness - Powderfinger

Death Scene:
The Dark of the Matinee- Franz Ferdinand

Funeral Song:
Freedom - Beautiful Girls

End Credits:
Living Room - Basement Jaxx

How depressing is my love life? "Isolate" for marriage and getting back together is "How to Be Dead." Maybe I should just give up now. Meanwhile, my first child's gonna be happy camper isn't he/she?

Also, how crap is the shuffle on my Creative? The answer is "very."

Waking up song is very apt though as I am a potty mouth in the morning so I'll leave you with the lyrics:

"(Aaah! You said that word
I'm gonna tell yo momma on you
She's gonna whip you too
That's what she gonna do)

Gazoose! Holy cow! Golly gee!
Dagnabit! Great Caesar's ghost!
Man, what you say?
I say, Yikes! Hush, darn it!
Wait a cotton pickin' minute!
Heavens to Murgatroid!
Take it away

I'm rubber, you're the glue sticks
Everything you say will bounce off of me back to you if the shoe fits
Potty mouths got me hot like a coffee pot
You're more predictable than a _Rocky_ plot
Save the four letter words, keep the gunshot
It's all talk, you're as fruity as a kumquat
And I'm supposed to be shocked? Stop, zip your lip

Quit, all you wanted was a pop hit, hypocrite
Don't take him serious, he needs to be laughed at
So play the laugh track ( *canned laughter* )
Try a preposition, pronoun or an adverb
Cause you haven't said a thing, just a bad word"