The Obligatory Freak-Out

COUNTDOWN TO BLOGHER: 45 DAYS. (HOLY CRAP!)

There are only forty-five days til I leave for BlogHer. That is not very many. I would like to take this opportunity to freak the fuck out.

What if these bloggy people I think are actual people are, in fact, not. What if they are eighty year old men or aliens from outer space? What if this alleged conference is, in fact, not a conference of awesome people and cocktails, but some imaginary organisation that exists only on the interwebs. And when you go back to the site, it will have disappeared, leaving only one of those annoying 404 error messages. What if the Golden Gate Bridge is not, in fact, golden? Or it is, and that causes it to be so heavy that it falls into the ocean? Or it is, and they charge you a bajillion dollars to set foot on it, and they only tell you this after you've dirtied up their pretty bridge? What if the Stock Market (something I'd always assumed was, in fact, a figment of everyone's imaginations) crashes to the ground and leaves me stranded in America with ten Australian dollars, which will be worth less than the price of one of those sidewalk hotdogs? What if "America" is, in fact, a product of everyone's imagination and television scripts, and I will actually be visiting some kind of very elaborate hologram?

Ok, I'm done. Did I miss anything?

Get Back To Me

When I was an undergrad (like it was sooo long ago), people would occasionally ask the lecturer/tutor if they would check essay drafts for us. I may have even asked. I never, ever took advantage of this. They sure as hell don't want to have to mark something twice, and if it was a different person checking the draft, who is to say their suggestions would make it better by the actual marker's standards? Plus, I was on a schedule, and I tend to forget about an essay the second the word count hits whatever number could be considered close enough to the word limit to hand in.

Now, for some reason, I have had a change of heart. I emailed my Supervisor my Thesis Proposal a week ahead of the due date. Due date being today. And I haven't got it back yet.

Here's what I'm thinking:
Whose responsibility is the due date? She didn't ask. I didn't tell.
This is the Honours topic. She should have a grasp on due dates.
Do I email her now, all 'never mind'?
How pissed am I going to be if she emails it back, with awesome corrections.

Basically, I want some kind of reward for having it done before five seconds before the assignment box closes. Is that too much to ask?

Possessed and Possessioned

I think I'm possessed. By someone who buys a lot of shoes. Possibly Kelley.



At least they are all different. We've got flats, heels, and boots, so it's not like they won't all get worn.

All I need now is clothes to go with them!

What I Want To Do Weekends, Part 2: San Francisco

COUNTDOWN TO BLOGHER: 50 DAYS. (HOLY CRAP!)

Welcome to the second What I Want To Do Weekends weekend. Moving right along from USA in general to the first city on Missy's World Tour. (Actually, the second. Auckland is the first, but I don't think my to-do list for there consists of anything apart from a) get off plane b) pee c) get on BlogHer-bound plane.)

WHAT I WANT TO DO – SAN FRANCISCO

I want to go on the cable cars like the trolley people in The Princess Diaries.

I want to see if the Golden Gate Bridge really is golden, and if Golden Gate Park really is a park. (Kidding. Kinda.)

I want to visit the Haight-Ashbury, Chinatown, and Fisherman's Wharf (including Boudin Bakery, Pier 39, Ghirardelli’s Chocolate, Ghirardelli’s sign, cable car turnaround).

I also want to see The Crookedest Street in the World (between Hyde and Leavenworth) and The Steepest Streets (22nd Street, Filbert Street), Nob Hill, and The Manor from Charmed.

I feel like I should see Alcatraz, but I'm not sure why. Hopefully someone can explain the significance/excitement to me.

Things To NOT Do:

Earthquakes.

What do you think? What did I miss? What can I skip? What are you looking forward to doing in San Francisco? See you soon!!!

QUACK QUACK ...

... BACK TO BACK!



Remember last year?



When Carla was here, and Operation Rubber Duckie rocked out at Battle of the Bands, and Flinders kicked St Marks' arses all the way back to their college? Good times.

Battle of the Bands 2008 was last night, and again, Operation Rubber Duckie rocked the house.



And I rocked the hair, for about half an hour, til all the curls fell out. We still look hot though.



AND THEN UNI HALL WON! AGAIN! FOR THE SECOND YEAR IN A ROW, OUR NAME IS ON THE CUP! HELL YEAH!

Pizza Party

My grandma and my aunty are coming over for dinner tonight. They haven’t seen me or the house since I moved in. This wasn’t on purpose on my part. I always intended to invite them to dinner, but then uni happened and work happened, and I didn’t. Until now.

They don’t think I can cook. When I asked what they wanted to eat, they said, “Oh, well, you’ll want to cook something simple.” When I suggested home-made pizza, they said, “You’ve been practicing pizza, have you?”

Actually, no and no. For me, one person, yes I want to cook something simple. I’m a slacker like that. For three people, I don’t mind putting in a little more effort. And I never cook pizza for myself. I figured it would be a crowd pleaser, and yeah, ok, hard to mess up. Add in some garlic bread and salad for not much more effort and call it a meal.

My room is tidied, the kitchen table is clear of bottle caps and cards, and the pizza and garlic bread are ready to go into the oven.

The salad is at the shops, where I forgot it. Who says I can’t orchestrate a whole dinner party?

I had to write that earlier, in Word, because my internet took an afternoon nap. Now it's 9:47pm and my guests have just left. They left me a mere two slices of pizza and a small piece of cheesecake for breakfast. I think we can call that a success.

Woohoooo!!!

Miss Zoot had her baby!

And David Cook won American Idol!

Today is a good day.

Dinner's Ready

When I was little, my dad would sometimes call me from work when I got home from school and ask me to take the meat for dinner out of the freezer and let it chill out in the fridge. Invariably I would forget until some point later in the afternoon, but this was ok as I could simply take it out, leave it on the bench in Darwin's lovely (read: stinking hot) weather, and it would be defrosted in time for dad to cook it for dinner.

It seems that my childhood left me illprepared for both following instructions and defrosting food in Adelaide's more chilly climate.

Spendings

Last night the bra strap from my very favouritest bra broke. This necessitated a trip to Harbourtown for a replacement, even though I am supposed to be saving for, um, that thing I can't talk about in this post.

When I got there, I headed right to the back of the store where my favouritest bra lives. And freaked right the hell out because WHERE IS MY FAVOURITEST BRA? And then the shop slapped me upside the head and pointed out that I'd walked right past it on my way in. So I bought two.*

While I was at Harbourtown, I decided to have a look for a hoodie, even though I am still saving for that thing, and even though I bought one on Monday. That one I'm still doubtful about, and it is still in its bag with its receipt, so you know I didn't completely and totally fall in love with it. On way out, the girl was all, "Are you looking for anything in particular?" And I was all, "No, thanks, just looking." What I should have said was "Zip up, hoodie, drawstring hood, pockets, pretty picture or logo on the front middle, long enough to cover the top of my jeans, under $30, makes me want to jump up and down and dance." Alas, I don't think this hoodie actually exists anywhere in the world ever.

*When I got home today I realised that the strap could be fixed quite easily. Where I thought I had none, I actually had one, and now have three of THE MOST PERFECT BRA IN THE WORLD. So it's all good.

Dude, find another topic

Ok, new rule: I can't have two BlogHer posts in a row.

Since there's guaranteed to be one every weekend, this means that you at least get one normal post every single week! And if I can't go from one weekend to the next without mentioning San Francisco, you get two! Woohoo, right?

This week, it seems I can't, because I have a) no self control, b) nothing else interesting to talk/think about, and c) a craving to win a contest.

Dude, everyone in the whole world is currently running a contest on their blogs. I'm thinking I should join in, but that's not this post. Be patient.

This post is to tell about an awesome prize being given away (to me, hopefully) by Psychicgeek. Go check it out. How much fun could I have with that if I won? My question to you: if you had a free flight to anywhere in the world, where would you go? (Let's assume you've already been to visit me.)

Housekeeping, Literally

We now have a jobs roster. Twice a month I am required to be a contributing member of this household. Today I did the vacuuming. (Who was it that recently had trouble spelling that? Cos hells yeah, it's a confusing word.) If you ever feel the need of an upper-body workout, just come and use our vacuum. If you could make it the first week of the month that would be awesome.

I just bought a heater. Despite being all "BLOGHER! SAVE MONEY! BLOGHER!" all the time, I'm sorry, it had to be done. Adelaide is cold, man. I was told to buy an electric blanket but no way. Those things scare the crap out of me. I don't want to be electrocuted in the middle of the night, thank you very much.

Seriously, what is it with these boys that don't value the sleep hours? No, that's not even it. It's more that our rooms are the only places we have to ourselves and damn we need them. And even more that I think girls have some kind of inborn terror alert when their bedroom doors are opened and lights switched on at ungodly hours of the morning. And no, "shit happens" does NOT excuse it.

I went grocery shopping today. Sometimes I wonder what the checkout people think about what customers buy. The other week I literally bought bread, milk, and toilet paper. What a cliche. Today I bought everything. Seriously. I had no bread, butter, milk, sausages, pasta, fruit, or chocolate. All the essentials. It is so lucky I am not responsible for any other living thing on the planet.

What I Want To Do Weekends, Part 1: USA

Welcome to the first edition of What I Want To Do Weekends, all about what I'm planning for the Great BlogHer08 Trip. (It could have been Wednesdays, but first of all, that's already taken, and second, that is so restricting. This way, I figure I have at least four days in which to post. Everyone knows Thursday is the new start of the weekend, and maybe you got the day off on Monday, and if all that fails, it's probably still the weekend where you are, right?) I would appreciate any additions or comments or whatever. The list is continually growing.

So. Part One: USA.

I should mention that I've been there before. In the (American) summer of 2005, I was a summer camp counselor at a sports-oriented camp in New York state. I travelled to Washington DC, New York City, Boston, Niagara Falls, England, and France afterwards. (This is a whole 'nother bajillion posts, which may or may not ever happen.) Point is, some of these things are coming from there, for example, my love of Ben and Jerry, and some are me watching too much American tv. Ok? Awesome.

WHAT I WANT TO DO – AMERICA

I want to eat Ben&Jerry’s, Wendy’s, and Dunkin Donuts. (All summer camp memories.)

I want to eat at Chili’s (like on Veronica Mars), Outback Steakhouse (like Holly), and TGIFriday’s (cos I like the name).

I want to stock up on a particular moisturiser at Walmart ("Marco!" "Polo!") and shop at Super Target (just like Zoot). I want bags from Macy's and Bloomingdales. I want things from Sephora (Advice Smackdown!) and Victoria's Secret. And I want to have breakfast at Tiffany and buy something so I can have another one of those blue boxes.

I want to go through a drive-thru ATM and take a photo of one of those letterboxes with the little red flags.

And I want to go to an NFL or Major League Baseball game.

Phew. I'm very demanding. Any thoughts/additions/reality checks you'd like to put forward?

WiWtdWs will be back next weekend - give or take a day or so - and we are now one weekend closer to BlogHer08!

Let The Rain Fall Down

When I was young, we were down here on holidays one year, and we went to lunch at the house of one of my cousins. I remember Lou taught me how to make flowers out of napkins.

At one point there was a huge thundering sound that wasn't thunder. There is nothing exactly like hail on a tin shed roof. We could hear it coming towards us and then all of a sudden, it was hailing!

Coming from Darwin "Fine and Humid" NT, this was my first experience of hail. It was incredibly exciting. To honour the occasion, I made a hail man. Like a snowman, y'know? He was about 10cms tall.

What? I was a kid. Although here is our weather forecast for today ...



... and I have to say, if it does start hailing tonight, I can't promise that tomorrow won't bring a post entitled "Haily II."

In the meantime, I will be curled up in my bed reading (what else is a rainy day for?) either White Noise (for uni) or Promise Me (because Chris reminded me that Harlen Coben is pretty awesome). You can guess which one will be read first.

Countdown to BlogHer: 60 Days

So, yesterday I was looking at the website for the MGM Grand in Las Vegas (because how awesome would that be? The MGM in Vegas) and I had to click on a drop-down menu to select a month.

And you know what? July is right near the top of the list. We're halfway through May, not at the beginning, and I leave for San Francisco in the middle of July, not the end, as I've somehow convinced myself.



In fact, in just two months I will extremely bored as I fly for a bajillion hours to BlogHer. (Where I will not be bored. Drunk maybe.)

However, I am incredibly old and wise now, thanks to my 2005 trip to America (and then England and France). On that occasion, everything was exciting! And I couldn't sleep in case I missed something! This is an experience! That should be experienced! And yet ... no. Sleep is good. Sleep is so your friend.

Sleep means you will be awake when you get to San Francisco and it is early afternoon and yet it was just night but I left in the morning and ooh vodka.

Your trip to Australia in one easy lesson

It has occurred to me that while I am over here being all, San Francisco is the hilly one, LA is the movie star one, and Vegas is the casino one, you all over there might be just as knowledgeable (*cough*) about Australia. Therefore I have helpfully prepared a little tutorial for you, which should make planning your trip to visit me so much easier.

We'll start with a blank map of Australia. (By the way, Australia is the same size as the United States.)



Then we'll cut in thirds upways. The left-hand (or western) third we'll call Western Australia. The capital of WA is Perth. Apparently it's a very nice city, but as you can see, the rest of WA is just a whole lot of desert and no people.



Now we'll cut the middle third into top and bottom (or north and south) halves. The top one we'll call the Northern Territory and the bottom one can be South Australia. The capital of the NT, and my hometown, is Darwin. Directly below Darwin is the capital of SA, and my current home, Adelaide. Darwin is rural and crocodiles and kangaroos, and Adelaide is the city of churches and festivals and wineries and footy boys and meat pie floaters.



All up the middle there is another whole lot of desert, except where there is a green bit called Kakadu National Park, and where there is a big rock in the middle of the country. That big rock which you may have heard of is Uluru or Ayers Rock, and it is right next to the town of Alice Springs, if by right near you mean five hours away by car.



And so we move to the east coast, where all the people live. Cutting the left third into thirds the other way, gives us Queensland, whose capital is Brisbane, home of rainforests and theme parks.



Underneath Queensland is New South Wales, where Captain Cook and a bunch of other people landed thinking they were the first people here. The capital of NSW is a little town you may have heard of called Sydney. Sydney has a Harbour Bridge, and an Opera House, and sometimes pretends to be the capital of the whole country.

Underneath NSW is Victoria, capital Melbourne, who has a reputation for having four seasons in one day. Being that I was there in winter, I might be forgiven for thinking they were: rain, hail, drizzle, misery. The good thing about Melbourne is its cricket ground, its shopping, and its tram that goes in a square around the city, both ways, but WHICH ONE WILL ARRIVE FIRST?



So one day Sydney and Melbourne were fighting over which one could be the capital and IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO FIGHT NONE OF YOU CAN HAVE IT. And so Canberra was born, the capital of the Australian Capital Territory and of Australia. Canberra is full of politicians and trees and snowfields.

Oops. There's an island called Tasmania, it's capital is Hobart, there is a yacht race there from Sydney, and they all marry their cousins.



And so you have it.



Australia. Any questions?

Numbers

I have two important numbers for you today.

500.

This is my five hundredth post. That is a lot of posts.

I recently deleted all my tags because they were annoying me and I was supposed to be writing an essay and so needed something to do instead. Then I re-tagged everything because I was still supposed to be writing an essay. This came a really good time and I got a great look back at everything I'd written.

I almost deleted some, but they were all ones where I'd posted a video clip, or one line about a new template. I would write some of them differently if I wrote them again, but I didn't change them. I am happy with the voice I have now, but first and foremost this blog is a memory, and the voice I had then is a memory as well.

85.

I got my first Honours High Distinction today. (It may well be my last so savour the moment.)

This was an excellent presentation which met all of the criteria. You delivered a sophisticated, confident and yet concise presentation which clearly explained your project.

Your project has an admirable depth and complexity for an Honours project, and you demonstrate a real mastery of the material. You made excellent use of question time, which served to illuminate your project even further.

Yes, I have a real mastery of watching House. It's a talent.

I'm There

Sick of listening to me talk about BlogHer? I finished an essay today. Wanna hear about that? Didn't think so.

Two things.

First of all, the lovely Kelley, like a whole lot of Australian bloggers, won't be at BlogHer this year. Or will she? She has bribed convinced a whole lot of awesome bloggers to take her with them. I like pretty buttons, so I have volunteered as well.



Pretty, no? I'm thinking I should extend this offer to any other bloggers who won't be able to get to San Francisco, but will be drinking there in spirit (and in my bag).

And secondly, I'm thinking there will be quite a few non-Aussie bloggers not going, partially because the Reach Out Tour will cover a bunch of cities that are closer to them than San Francisco is. Now, probably one or two of these bloggers will be awesome ones that I read every day and would scream like a little girl if I ever even saw.

My question is ... can I invite myself to wherever they live? Can I maybe invite myself to drinks or lunch or something with them? Is this totally stalkerish, or is this an opportunity I should seize while I am in the States?

Dude, Seriously?

I have this breakfast routine that I am very fond of.

I went through a couple of stages when I was younger of eating cereal for breakfast, but I have now come to the conclusion that cereal is a dinner food. I had a while there when I didn't really eat breakfast, because the Hall serves breakfast way early, and I had better things to do.

But now, I'm firmly back on toast.

Two slices gets me through class/a shift/an essay/a morning watching cable. The first slice is vegemite. If there is a second, it's peanut butter. (And used to be if there was a third, it was cinnamon sugar.) If I'm out of peanut butter, I'm cool with having both vegemite.

Vegemite is the key here.

And yet, when I woke up this morning, there was no jar of vegemite on the bench. No vegemite in the fridge (where I didn't leave it) or the cupboard (where I also didn't leave it).

How does this happen? I don't get it.

House and Holmes

First, an assessment update:
The four mini-essays I got averaged out to a high credit.
My annotated bibliography was a credit.
Yesterday I had my thesis proposal presentation, which went ok. They liked the topic and I think I handled the questions ok, but it'll probably only be a credit as well.

This is not cool. I don't want to be a credit student. I'm supposed to get distinctions. I don't even want a high distinction, I'm not greedy.

Anyway: House and Holmes.

That is going to be title of my thesis. How awesome is that?

I was going to do something on young adult blah blah dont care but this is going to be way better. I'm basically going to find out where House (the character) came from, whether directly from Holmes, or as a reactionary creation against feminist, psychological, or forensic characters, or whether it's a logical progression from Holmes/Dupin-hardboiled-psych-forensic-whatever.

Sound awesome? I know!

The bad side? I have to watch bajillions of House episodes. It's gonna be so. tough.

The Skywalker Story

Fifteen years ago today I was woken my parents and deposited at my aunty's house. I spent the rest of the night on the couch and when my parents called the next morning, I was informed I had a brother.

Flash forward to 1999: the year of our greatest triumph.

We (by which I mean our dad) had spent weeks constructing the go-kart to end all go-karts. We were entering our school's second annual go-kart race, and we were going to win. I must point out this was the school's second and last race ever for reasons that should become clear.

On the day, we won our heat easily, our go-kart having actual bike wheels and not wooden or plastic ones, and not covered in tiger fur but having an awesome red seat. We advanced to the finals and I even remember who we were against: the Egan boys. I was the only girl in the comp and I was going to enjoy beating them.

We got ahead, naturally, and got around the first turn. As we were going down the longest straight, I felt the Egan boys' kart ram into my heels. Of course, I went flying, but I gave Skywalker a huge push as I did. I refused to let anyone touch me, even though my knees and palms were scraped to hell, but I had some weird idea we would be disqualified if anyone 'interfered,' and tried to follow.

All of which was irrelvent, as Skywalker had continued on down the slight slope to the finish line, all by himself, meaning ... CHAMPIONS!

So today, on his fifteenth birthday, I would like to remind Skywalker of our awesome victory. That was a brilliant day and I hope you have a bajillion more just like it.

(My knees: "Maybe not exactly like it.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SKYWALKER, MY LITTLE BROTHER.