I heard a funny story the other day about a woman who went to see the fabulous Black Watch at Carriageworks. She went to find her seat, but couldn't work out where she was supposed to be. So she asked an usher, who pointed her in the right direction. So she tried again. Still couldn't find it. Went back to the usher (who by this time was probably a little annoyed), who escorted her to her seat. Or, rather, where her seat should have been.
Turns out there were two extremely large ladies sitting on either side of her seat. So large that each of them actually took up more than their own $70 worth of space and were sitting on $35 (each) worth of her space.
Goodness knows how the usher handled it. I hope the woman refused to sit squished between two enormous people. Black Watch was almost 2 hours long with no interval and those chairs were un-frickin-comfortable - I couldn't imagine anything worse than sitting there with strangers sandwiching you between them.
But then I got to thinking. This has been happening to me a bit lately. What's going on?
On opening night of Ngapartji Ngapartji I was seated next to a woman who took up half my seat as well as her own. Luckily I had our very slim publicist on the other side of me, so could scoot over a little. But it was quite uncomfortable and impacted on my enjoyment of the play.
And tonight I went to the Open Air Cinema to see Cactus (excellent new Aussie film) and was sat next to a very large man who insisted on spreading his knees wide and crossing his fat arms across his chest (and part of my chest too).
What annoyed me most (both times) was that the oversized people in question were getting pissed off with me for asserting my space and refusing to shrink into a corner of the seat to enable their comfort. Honestly. It was like being back at school and having the big fat bully pick on the little skinny kid. Except this little skinny kid was standing up for herself.
As someone who works in a theatre, I know you can't very well ask people when they purchase a ticket if they might take up more than their allocated seat, so do they really need two? And let's face it, who is going to admit that they're so fat they need a double wide seat? As a nation, apparently we are getting larger but refusing to admit it. At least that's what the SMH says today.
I know some larger people can't help being big, but I think a great number of them can. They eat too much. They eat crappy fast foods. They don't exercise enough. They chug back beer like there's no tomorrow. Why should I be penalised for your excesses? I paid the same price for my ticket, I deserve to sit in the whole of my seat and not have to share it with your fat ass.
I'm thinking of demanding compensation next time this happens.
What do you think would happen if I said "excuse me, you're taking up at least $20 worth of my seat... would you like to pay for that in cash?"
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
SATC
Flattie G (the good one) and I have spent many nights over the last few months re-aquainting ourselves with those lovely Manolo/Cavalli/Prada clad ladies of the Big Apple.
Having today watched six episodes of Season 4 back to back (including the one where Carrie breaks up with Aidan, at which I remember shedding a few tears back in the day... I just didn't understand why she wouldn't stay with a man who was so devoted and adorable), I have observed an annoying script device which I don't remember really paying attention to back in the day when I would watch it once a week, late night on Channel 9.
I refer to the predictable mid-episode voice-over of:
"Later that day/night"
...as a (usually) scantilly-clad SJP curls up in her fabulous $750 per month rent-controlled apartment on the Upper East Side (do those apartments even EXIST??), (usually) puffs away on a Marlboro Light and taps on her Macbook...
"As I [insert theme of episode], I couldn't help but wonder [insert witty observation about said theme]"
After the word "wonder", cut to said witty observation being typed out on the screen. Always with perfect spelling... I have yet to see her make a typo. No one is that good a typist.
Scene then cuts to somewhere else and voice-over is (usually):
"Meanwhile, uptown/downtown/on the West side... Samantha / Charlotte / Miranda was..."
I couldn't help but wonder tonight (as I sit here, scantilly clad, tapping away on my ancient PC)...
Why, if this show is so predictable and formulaic, do we love it? I use the royal "we"... I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who dislike the show immensely, but you can't deny, it was a huge hit for women the world over. Especially ones like me, who found solace in the fact that we weren't the only ladies who found themselves single with a shoe-fetish, an addiction to cocktails and inappropriate men and even more importantly, were reassured that there was NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.
Maybe that's why. Maybe its nice to for the media to affirm that its ok to be single when you are surrounded by smug married types who shoot looks of pity on a regular basis and flaunt blatant PDAs in your face. No. There is nothing wrong with being single and having a life filled with shoes and not children. We don't all have to live on Walton's Mountain or at the Huxtables you know.
Its nice to be visiting the girls again.
But another thing I can't help but wonder is will these new shows (Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle) live up to the standard already set by Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte? They do have the Star man (Darren) behind them, but has he already had his one Big show?
I await February (and the return of the ratings period) with great anticipation.
In the meantime, Seasons 5 and 6 will have to keep me happy.
I just wish I could find an apartment like hers, for only $750 a month.
And an Aidan. I always had a soft spot for John Corbett, although I did go through a brief faze of thinking Chris Noth was attractive. I got over that every time he sniffed (those enlarged nostrils... ewwww).
Having today watched six episodes of Season 4 back to back (including the one where Carrie breaks up with Aidan, at which I remember shedding a few tears back in the day... I just didn't understand why she wouldn't stay with a man who was so devoted and adorable), I have observed an annoying script device which I don't remember really paying attention to back in the day when I would watch it once a week, late night on Channel 9.
I refer to the predictable mid-episode voice-over of:
"Later that day/night"
...as a (usually) scantilly-clad SJP curls up in her fabulous $750 per month rent-controlled apartment on the Upper East Side (do those apartments even EXIST??), (usually) puffs away on a Marlboro Light and taps on her Macbook...
"As I [insert theme of episode], I couldn't help but wonder [insert witty observation about said theme]"
After the word "wonder", cut to said witty observation being typed out on the screen. Always with perfect spelling... I have yet to see her make a typo. No one is that good a typist.
Scene then cuts to somewhere else and voice-over is (usually):
"Meanwhile, uptown/downtown/on the West side... Samantha / Charlotte / Miranda was..."
I couldn't help but wonder tonight (as I sit here, scantilly clad, tapping away on my ancient PC)...
Why, if this show is so predictable and formulaic, do we love it? I use the royal "we"... I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who dislike the show immensely, but you can't deny, it was a huge hit for women the world over. Especially ones like me, who found solace in the fact that we weren't the only ladies who found themselves single with a shoe-fetish, an addiction to cocktails and inappropriate men and even more importantly, were reassured that there was NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.
Maybe that's why. Maybe its nice to for the media to affirm that its ok to be single when you are surrounded by smug married types who shoot looks of pity on a regular basis and flaunt blatant PDAs in your face. No. There is nothing wrong with being single and having a life filled with shoes and not children. We don't all have to live on Walton's Mountain or at the Huxtables you know.
Its nice to be visiting the girls again.
But another thing I can't help but wonder is will these new shows (Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle) live up to the standard already set by Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte? They do have the Star man (Darren) behind them, but has he already had his one Big show?
I await February (and the return of the ratings period) with great anticipation.
In the meantime, Seasons 5 and 6 will have to keep me happy.
I just wish I could find an apartment like hers, for only $750 a month.
And an Aidan. I always had a soft spot for John Corbett, although I did go through a brief faze of thinking Chris Noth was attractive. I got over that every time he sniffed (those enlarged nostrils... ewwww).
Monday, January 14, 2008
Meme Break
I love a good meme, me. Especially the ones which enable to me to have a little shuffle through the old iPod.
The rules:
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY?" YOU SAY?
You Are The One (Take That)
How appropriate that they would come up first. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that almost every single song they ever recorded is on my iPod.
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Finale (Pippin soundtrack)
Hmmm... bit unsure how to interpret that one!
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY?
Cockaigne Overture (Elgar, as played by the London Symphony Orchestra)
No rude jokes please. I suspect it has something to do with strength, power and class.
HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
The Tragedy (12th Man)
I don't feel tragic today. But I do like listening to the 12th Man saying 2 for 22 and Graham Gooch.
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
The Modern Things (Bjork)
Again - bit of a loss as to how to interpret this one.
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Digging the Grave (Faith No More)
My own, or someone else's? My goodness but this is confusing.
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Borderline (Madonna)
That's probably about right. Borderline nutbag most likely.
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Andy, You're A Star (The Killers)
That is the funniest one I've come across, considering my name and chosen occupation.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN?
Dammit Janet (Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack)
I don't know if I think about it often, but I do say it often!
WHAT IS 2 + 2?
Happy Birthday (Altered Images)
The funny thing that struck me about this one is that today is the 2nd birthday of my precious god-daughter, who is so wickedly smart that she can already tell you what 2 + 2 is.
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Roads (Portishead)
This is funny because my best friend is about as far from Portishead as you can get.
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Lofty's Roach Souffle (Harry Connick Jnr)
Goodness. Don't tell him I think he's a roach souffle... I'd never see him again!
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
I Need Love (Olivia Newton-John)
That's about right really. Who doesn't?
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Bui-Doi (Miss Saigon soundtrack)
I don't know what Bui-Doi even is. So how can I be it when I grow up?
WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Help Me (Johnny Cash)
Ha! Too funny.
WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
The Other Side of Summer (Elvis Costello)
Not sure about this particular choice of song, but given my deep love for Declan McManus, I am fairly certain that if I ever did get married, several other of his songs would feature highly on the playlist.
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
One Thing After Another (Diesel)
Death. Just one thing after another. Too funny.
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Mary (Scissor Sisters)
Totally bamboozled by this one. Bit like the Scissor Sisters really.
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Big Yellow Taxi (Joni Mitchell)
This could either mean I'm an environmentalist, or just have an irrational fear of all things yellow, including taxis. Probably both are correct.
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Angels Heap (Neil Finn)
Shhh! Don't tell anyone!
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
The Scent of Love (The Piano soundtrack)
Yep. My friends smell of love. Bless 'em.
xox
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Oh Sandy (Arse)
The other night I was overflowing with blog ideas and saved four of them in draft with different titles for future inspiration.
They were titled:
Now I can't really remember what each of the last three was going to be about and in the case of the first one, I'm not really sure I'm ready to write about it. So they will have to remain in draft for another day.
They do look rather funny listed like that though.
Today I went to the beach. I haven't been to the beach yet this summer. I'm more of a pool girl. I like the beach but I do not like sand in my bikini, strong undercurrents and stingers in the water. All of which are common occurrences at Sydney beaches. I grew up in Adelaide, a stone's throw from a beach where the only thing you needed to worry about was sharks. And sharks are easy to spot from a distance, therefore really quite harmless provided you're a fast swimmer. No, when in Sydney, I prefer the pool to the beach. And, quite conveniently, there is one just a brief bus ride from my house. Or a slightly longer, sedately paced 25 minute walk, depending on how energetic I am feeling.
But my lovely flatmate (as opposed to the pain in the arse flatmate), was hell bent on a trip to Coogee, so off we went. Took us thirty minutes to find a park, by which time I felt like I was roasting in lard, having liberally doused myself in Reef Oil before leaving the house. Then we had to trek for another ten minutes to find a spot on the sand which was sufficiently near the water and sufficiently far away from the hairy, annoying, lecherous blokes who seemed to be sitting on every second beach towel.
Almost the second I sat down on my towel for a spot of tan-topping-upping, I was covered in sand from my feet to the backs of my knees. I find this incredibly annoying and detrimental to even tanning. I know its partially my own fault, as after all, I am a slave to the Reef Oil, which is quite sticky and sand-attracting. But I do think it is much maligned and quite brilliant for achieving the stunning golden glow I am currently sporting.
All you anti-cancer, melanoma-warning do gooders out there can just pipe down by the way. I am well aware of the risks I am exposing myself to, but as someone who has recently gone through a kick-ass bout with the big C, I am not going to listen to you. I look and feel much better when I have a tan. I may not look good in twenty years time when I am riddled with the stuff but having gone a few rounds with the fucker late last year I am increasingly aware that life is too short not to look and feel good. I will worry about how I will look in twenty years time, in twenty years time. Of course that is pre-supposing I'm still around and let's face it, how many of us can actually guarantee that? A bit morbid, but true. Live for the moment, seize the day. Carpe diem and all that jazz.
So. Where was I? And do I have a point? No. As a matter of fact I don't. Other that than the whole beach experience was a pain in the ass and I will be sticking to the pool in future.
As you were. I'm off to slather myself in cocoa butter and tuck up in bed with my book.
Maybe I'll be more inspired and less ranty tomorrow.
They were titled:
- Boys can't handle the C word
- SATC
- Hamster
- Zig-a-zig AHHHHHHH
Now I can't really remember what each of the last three was going to be about and in the case of the first one, I'm not really sure I'm ready to write about it. So they will have to remain in draft for another day.
They do look rather funny listed like that though.
Today I went to the beach. I haven't been to the beach yet this summer. I'm more of a pool girl. I like the beach but I do not like sand in my bikini, strong undercurrents and stingers in the water. All of which are common occurrences at Sydney beaches. I grew up in Adelaide, a stone's throw from a beach where the only thing you needed to worry about was sharks. And sharks are easy to spot from a distance, therefore really quite harmless provided you're a fast swimmer. No, when in Sydney, I prefer the pool to the beach. And, quite conveniently, there is one just a brief bus ride from my house. Or a slightly longer, sedately paced 25 minute walk, depending on how energetic I am feeling.
But my lovely flatmate (as opposed to the pain in the arse flatmate), was hell bent on a trip to Coogee, so off we went. Took us thirty minutes to find a park, by which time I felt like I was roasting in lard, having liberally doused myself in Reef Oil before leaving the house. Then we had to trek for another ten minutes to find a spot on the sand which was sufficiently near the water and sufficiently far away from the hairy, annoying, lecherous blokes who seemed to be sitting on every second beach towel.
Almost the second I sat down on my towel for a spot of tan-topping-upping, I was covered in sand from my feet to the backs of my knees. I find this incredibly annoying and detrimental to even tanning. I know its partially my own fault, as after all, I am a slave to the Reef Oil, which is quite sticky and sand-attracting. But I do think it is much maligned and quite brilliant for achieving the stunning golden glow I am currently sporting.
All you anti-cancer, melanoma-warning do gooders out there can just pipe down by the way. I am well aware of the risks I am exposing myself to, but as someone who has recently gone through a kick-ass bout with the big C, I am not going to listen to you. I look and feel much better when I have a tan. I may not look good in twenty years time when I am riddled with the stuff but having gone a few rounds with the fucker late last year I am increasingly aware that life is too short not to look and feel good. I will worry about how I will look in twenty years time, in twenty years time. Of course that is pre-supposing I'm still around and let's face it, how many of us can actually guarantee that? A bit morbid, but true. Live for the moment, seize the day. Carpe diem and all that jazz.
So. Where was I? And do I have a point? No. As a matter of fact I don't. Other that than the whole beach experience was a pain in the ass and I will be sticking to the pool in future.
As you were. I'm off to slather myself in cocoa butter and tuck up in bed with my book.
Maybe I'll be more inspired and less ranty tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Ch-ch-changes
New Year, new look blog.
I was going to go for the black template, but I thought that was too radical a departure from my customary pink.
I'll work up to it. Slowly slowly catchy monkey and all that.
x
I was going to go for the black template, but I thought that was too radical a departure from my customary pink.
I'll work up to it. Slowly slowly catchy monkey and all that.
x
From 4,600 to 5,400
I just looked at my profile info and between about July last year (when I last updated my "Favourite Music" answer) and now, I have managed to accumulate an extra 800 songs on my iPod. No wonder I have no freakin' money!
So.
Hello! Happy New Year to those of you who still even bother checking in on this blog. Show of hands please? Actually, no, don't bother. A lot of you are my Facebook friends anyway so I doubt you even visit here anymore. Ah well. That's actually a good thing. Gives me a touch more anonymity.
Anyone make resolutions? If there's none of you reading then I guess the answer will be no, because there's no one reading, therefore no one makes resolutions... yada yada yada. Shut up Noodle.
I made a few. Some are the same ones I make every year, like getting fit and eating more healthily and drinking less but I know I'll never really stick to those. They're just padding if you will.
This year I have made three resolutions I would like to put "out there" in a bid to actually motivate myself to keep them. If anyone out there is still reading this blog then please do me a big favour and at random times throughout the next couple of months, drop me a line to see if I'm keeping on track. I'd really appreciate it. Of course, if you can't be arsed then that's fine too.
So. Here we go.
Resolution #1
Move house. I have lived in share accommodation since I moved to Sydney from London and its about time I grew up and moved into a place by myself. There are several reasons for this, which include (but are not limited to):
(a) I'm clean. I like to clean the bathroom every week. Sometimes every few days. And I like the kitchen sink to shine. None of my fellow housemates have ever shared this disorder and it regularly drives me insane that I am the only housemate in my current house who sees the need to clean on a regular basis.
(b) One of my fellow housemates is jeopardising my credit rating by continually failing to pay her share of the bills or rent on time and everything is in my name. Also, she manages to rack up a huge usage of electricity through having both a fan and a fan heater on in her room constantly. And she always leaves all the lights on. And several times in the last couple of months she's left the house unlocked and unalarmed. Basically - I can't live with this girl anymore. She's doing my head in.
(c) The other flatmate (who is lovely) will be spending most of this year overseas completing her PhD and doing the film festival rounds with her documentary. And she wants to sub-let which means getting a new flattie in for about 6 months. And who knows what that person would be like and do I really want to bother getting to know yet another housemate? Really, I'm too old for that shit.
So yeah. I need to move house. Hopefully one of my friends is moving out of her flat into a bigger flat with her lovely boyfriend so I can take over her lease. Provided my credit rating isn't completely shot thanks to painful current flatmate. I'm hoping that all this will happen around March.
Resolution #2
Get a better job. I don't necessarily want to leave the company I work for, but I need to get out of the box office. Customers are doing my head in. When you're at the point that you want to regularly slam their heads into the wall because of their sheer stupidity, you know its time to get out. I have a couple of options I've thought up and I'm going to hopefully get a meeting with the big boss sometime this week to discuss them. Neither involves customer service and both involve working the more acceptable hours of 9-5 (ish) with 90% of weekends throughout the year free.
Resolution #3
Save enough money for a trip to the UK and Europe. My aim is to catch the last couple of weeks of the Edinburgh Festival and in a bid to cement myself into actually getting the hell on the plane, I have already booked and paid for a ticket to see the fabulous David Tennant playing Hamlet at the RSC on September 23rd.
So those are my three major resolutions. I also have another one about not getting too upset when the Hawks lose in the finals again this year, but I have a sneaking suspicion that because I am planning to leave the country for the latter part of the season, they will take the flag and I will be on the other side of the world so will not be able to participate in the joy of walking around Sydney singing "we're a happy team at Hawthorn". Bastards. How dare they deny me that pleasure?
I also want to write more. I'm thinking this is a good start.
xo
So.
Hello! Happy New Year to those of you who still even bother checking in on this blog. Show of hands please? Actually, no, don't bother. A lot of you are my Facebook friends anyway so I doubt you even visit here anymore. Ah well. That's actually a good thing. Gives me a touch more anonymity.
Anyone make resolutions? If there's none of you reading then I guess the answer will be no, because there's no one reading, therefore no one makes resolutions... yada yada yada. Shut up Noodle.
I made a few. Some are the same ones I make every year, like getting fit and eating more healthily and drinking less but I know I'll never really stick to those. They're just padding if you will.
This year I have made three resolutions I would like to put "out there" in a bid to actually motivate myself to keep them. If anyone out there is still reading this blog then please do me a big favour and at random times throughout the next couple of months, drop me a line to see if I'm keeping on track. I'd really appreciate it. Of course, if you can't be arsed then that's fine too.
So. Here we go.
Resolution #1
Move house. I have lived in share accommodation since I moved to Sydney from London and its about time I grew up and moved into a place by myself. There are several reasons for this, which include (but are not limited to):
(a) I'm clean. I like to clean the bathroom every week. Sometimes every few days. And I like the kitchen sink to shine. None of my fellow housemates have ever shared this disorder and it regularly drives me insane that I am the only housemate in my current house who sees the need to clean on a regular basis.
(b) One of my fellow housemates is jeopardising my credit rating by continually failing to pay her share of the bills or rent on time and everything is in my name. Also, she manages to rack up a huge usage of electricity through having both a fan and a fan heater on in her room constantly. And she always leaves all the lights on. And several times in the last couple of months she's left the house unlocked and unalarmed. Basically - I can't live with this girl anymore. She's doing my head in.
(c) The other flatmate (who is lovely) will be spending most of this year overseas completing her PhD and doing the film festival rounds with her documentary. And she wants to sub-let which means getting a new flattie in for about 6 months. And who knows what that person would be like and do I really want to bother getting to know yet another housemate? Really, I'm too old for that shit.
So yeah. I need to move house. Hopefully one of my friends is moving out of her flat into a bigger flat with her lovely boyfriend so I can take over her lease. Provided my credit rating isn't completely shot thanks to painful current flatmate. I'm hoping that all this will happen around March.
Resolution #2
Get a better job. I don't necessarily want to leave the company I work for, but I need to get out of the box office. Customers are doing my head in. When you're at the point that you want to regularly slam their heads into the wall because of their sheer stupidity, you know its time to get out. I have a couple of options I've thought up and I'm going to hopefully get a meeting with the big boss sometime this week to discuss them. Neither involves customer service and both involve working the more acceptable hours of 9-5 (ish) with 90% of weekends throughout the year free.
Resolution #3
Save enough money for a trip to the UK and Europe. My aim is to catch the last couple of weeks of the Edinburgh Festival and in a bid to cement myself into actually getting the hell on the plane, I have already booked and paid for a ticket to see the fabulous David Tennant playing Hamlet at the RSC on September 23rd.
So those are my three major resolutions. I also have another one about not getting too upset when the Hawks lose in the finals again this year, but I have a sneaking suspicion that because I am planning to leave the country for the latter part of the season, they will take the flag and I will be on the other side of the world so will not be able to participate in the joy of walking around Sydney singing "we're a happy team at Hawthorn". Bastards. How dare they deny me that pleasure?
I also want to write more. I'm thinking this is a good start.
xo
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