Archive for the ‘out and about’ Category

Trivial Pursuits

June 7, 2010

On Wednesday, The Boyfriend, my brother and I are going to a trivia night at a nearby pub. I actually met The Boyfriend at a trivia night at The Local, so happen to know that he is a fantastic team mate for these types of functions. I, however, also have a special secret weapon! A few months ago, in a mood of something related to extremely poor decorating skills, I replaced my shower curtain with this little beauty:

It’s already come in handy – a group of us were recently sitting around at The Local, waiting for the footy game to start, when someone read out some trivia questions from the newspaper. The Boyfriend and I were the only ones who happened to know what country was bordered by Algeria and Libya. I am contemplating only one change to the routine – I might have to turn the shower curtain inside out. Sure, it’ll look a bit funny for visitors using the bathroom to see a back to front world map, but think of how much time it’ll save me in the morning, no longer straining my head around to read backwards what that country is.



April 27, 2010

An extra long weekend is just over (I had Friday off work and Monday was a public holiday for ANZAC Day here), and it’s one that has taught me some valuable lessons.

I went to a 40th birthday party on Saturday evening. The hosts of the party had a bit of a problem – their fridge stopped working the morning of the party. As the venue was only 3 blocks from my house, I offered to stash the leftovers after dinner at my house, and bring them back the next day for any stragglers to have for lunch. An excellent idea, no?

The not so excellent idea, was to give the girlfriend who’d brought the food over a quick tour of the renovations I’ve been suffering through for the last few weeks. Clearly a few sheets under the wind, I opened up the door to the upstairs room, totally forgot there was no floorboards down, and stepped right out onto the ceiling of the room below. Whoops, add one more job to the growing list – repair the ceiling.

Don’t try this one at home, kids – I was VERY lucky I wasn’t hurt – if I’d fallen right through I definitely would have been. As it is, I just made a bit of a crack, about the size of my foot, which I am hoping can be patched without replacing any of the ceiling.  It could so easily have gone the other way.

You heard it here first – don’t drink and give house tours.

Short Weekend

March 1, 2010

I don’t know who decided we should all have 2 days weekend to 5 days work. 2 just isn’t enough.

The Boyfriend and I went to see a band on Friday night – Thirsty Merc, at The Basement. Great night, if only they had not finished playing AFTER the last train home had left. A rather expensive cab ride home later, we managed to get ourselves into bed. We didn’t get out of bed again except to grab food until 4:30pm Saturday afternoon. Perhaps that’s why my weekend seemed so short. (Perhaps we might have gotten up earlier if we’d not had quite so many “lemonades”!) Actually being able to sleep in so long then laze around watching TV all day was fabulous, I should do it more often.

Sunday was uneventful – the house is now clean and the grocery shopping is done. We nipped out to the pub while a casserole slow cooked in the oven. I should have taken a photo before I threw it away – let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be believed next time I say “Nah, it’ll be FINE while we nip out to get a beer, it won’t burn at all!” Yep, it burned pretty well alright. I’m just so glad it didn’t catch fire.

How Fancy

January 18, 2010

On Friday The Boyfriend and I went to a Fancy Dress party. We of course left outfits until the very last minute, then decided to go dressed as the Blues Brothers (simple, right? Just black suits, sunglasses and hats!) When we couldn’t find hats anywhere we started to panic – we had half an hour before it was time to leave and we still had nothing.

Eventually The Boyfriend came up with the brilliant idea of going as Mormons, so we dressed in black pants, white shirts, ties and I made up some nametags (“Elder 12ontheinside”), wrapped a couple of paperbacks in blank paper and labelled them as “The Book Of Mormon” and off we went, with plenty of time to spare.

Throughout the next part of the evening several groups of people who we have known for years said things like “Wow, I didn’t know you guys were Mormons!” Seriously, I am sitting in a pub with a schooner of beer in my hand and a very fake looking nametag on, and you think I am the real thing? The girl dressed as a nun didn’t get the same reaction so I am assuming we obviously come across much more clean living than I thought.

Good and Bad Sports

October 6, 2009

The weekend just gone was a long weekend. For what I have no idea (hmm, just googled it and apparently it was Labour Day. Huh). I added to the collective joy and had last Friday off as well.

Two 4 day weeks in a row was of course for good reason. This past weekend I went to my 20 year High School Reunion – the second for the year, which is what happens when you switch schools half way through high school I guess. So the reunion was for the school I left after Year 9.

I was having a rather jolly old time, possibly carrying on like a pork chop and enjoying one too many lemonades (read: beer), when I spotted a familiar face. The CEO’s exec assistant from my current work. Eh, who would have guessed she was married to a boy I went through primary and most of high school with. My reaction was not particularly professional – in fact I yelled, rather startled, “SHIT!” while looking right at her. I sure hope she is a good sport and holds true on her promise that what goes on at the school reunion stays at the school reunion! I did reconnect with a couple of people I will stay in touch with, so all in all it was a good time. A very fine time was had on both Friday and Saturday.

We rushed home on Sunday morning bright eyed and bushy tailed. In reality The Boyfriend was a champ and drove the whole way home, and I moaned and grumbled from the passenger seat. On our arrival home we hopped it down to a nearby pub to with minutes to spare to meet up with some mates for the NRL Grand Final – which my team were in. (Go Parra Eels!)

After my team lost? A girl wearing a jersey from a different team (one not playing in the grand final having been knocked out a week or two ago by my team, heh) walked in to the pub, spat at me in my Eels jersey, and said “Sucked in you stupid bitch, you f-ing c-face whore”. Only you can guess what the Fs and Cs stood for, she didn’t abbreviate them. Charming. I think we can all agree some of the fans of that team cough*bulldogs*cough are bloody bad sports. I only wish I’d had the presence of mind to fire back a retort – any retort – instead of opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish.  I would have been nice about it I’m sure (“Well at least I’m not ugly” is probably nice, yeah? Or even “I know you are, but what am I”?) This was also followed by groups of loud Bulldogs supporters driving around my suburb with their team flags hanging out their windows whooping and honking horns, not celebrating anything but the fact that WE LOST, even though they did too, several weeks ago.

This performance was more impactful for the fact that I had just witnessed a rather rowdy pub full of Eels supporters clap at the end result, and shake hands with the very few Storm supporters in the place who’d won – after all, it’s clear the better performing team won on the day, what else is there to do.  We were all just pleased we made it as far as we did after a few decades of lackluster performance!

After the busy few days before it, we lazed around on Monday, venturing out to deliver a case of beer and bag of ice to friends who moved over the long weekend. Nothing says “We’re so glad sorry we went away the weekend you moved and couldn’t help” like beer.


August 31, 2009

Ah, Mondays. Don’t you just love them. Mine was even worse given that I had to get up an extra hour early to salt my cheese. That sentence may make sense after the weekend tales are complete.

On Friday night I gathered a group of friends from The Local and off we went to watch our footy team’s last home game for the season. It was great, especially given that we won. On the way home, we stopped in at a bar. I was refused entry. “We can’t let you in ma’am, you are wearing a football jersey”. I might add, this was one of the seedier establishments in the area. I responded “We are in Parramatta, right?” The bouncer agreed. I continued. “Parra just won a home game, in this very suburb, right?” The bouncer agreed again. “And I am not allowed in because I have a Parramatta jersey on?” Yep, that’s right. I obviously looked oh so threatening, I’d have been frightened myself if there had been a mirror nearby.


Once Saturday morning rolled around, I said to The Boyfriend that I was taking him somewhere special. I should possibly have let him know that it would not involve me feeding him, as he got all his nice clothes on and thought we were going out to lunch. I wondered why he got all dressed up. The Boyfriend drove, so I gave just the address. No other clue – a street address. His response? “What, the homebrew shop?” Yes, folks, my boyfriend seems to know the address of the homebrew shop off by heart. I did buy him something special, of course – all the ingredients needed to make a tasty Stella Artois style beer. And let me tell you – hops smell nasty. Very, very nasty. While at the homebrew shop, I bought myself a cheesemaking kit – just a small one that makes brie/camembert style cheese. I started the culture on our return home on Saturday and I’ve been making the bloody stuff ever since. We watched footy at The Local yesterday afternoon – well everyone else did, I was running home every hour to turn the cheese over. Anyway, I have a new appreciation for why nice cheese costs so much. This stuff had better taste good. Little Miss Muffet curds pictured below.


On Saturday night, after deciding to have an early night with a DVD, The Boyfriend arrived in the bedroom with this nice little tray of pickles, cheese, and milk before bed. OK, Kahlua and milk, but close enough. I think I’ll keep him.


I sure hope my cheese turns out as nice.

Yes, We Have No Bananas

August 24, 2009

The weekend before the one just finished saw me going to a fancy schmancy hotel in town for a package deal that included afternoon tea, pre dinner drinks and canapes, 2 course dinner including bottle of wine, hotel room with king sized bed and buffet breakfast. Wow, I rolled out of there. With a banana, pinched from the hotel buffet breakfast. *Note to self – take a large handbag to the next breakfast you go to like that so you can arrive at work after it with a bag full of pastries.

In other news I was amused to check the incoming search terms that land people here. Women who hate undies? Embarrassing bulge boyfriend? How tall is doctor who? Embarrassed skirt lifted? It’s all about me umbrella? Toilets with teeth? I stopped looking after that one. You guys are weird. (No, of course I don’t mean you!)

Toilets and Teeth

June 26, 2009

Work has been keeping me pretty busy lately. At least I am finally starting to feel like I can do the job. You know I can always still make time for popping in to The Local. Last night I put my footy tips in on the way home. Someone’s been drinking in the toilet again. Weird. Who does that? Then again, I suppose, who takes photos of toilets with drinks left on them with their bad mobile phone camera.


I suppose it’s no worse than the photo I took on the mobile phone last weekend at The Local. One of the local boys was worried someone would take his beer. So he put his false teeth in his glass. Mmmm, tasty.


Undies are Evil

June 3, 2009

On the weekend, I went to a wedding. Since it’s important for all women to be uncomfortable at these events, I wore a dress and strappy high heels.

A few days before the wedding I tried on the dress I planned to wear and asked The Boyfriend if it looked ok. He looked me over and said “You know what comes to mind when I see you in that dress?” I waited eagerly for his next statement. “A schoolma’am”.

So I wore a different dress. And, because I wasn’t a fan of the belly bulge that was a little too obvious under that dress, I bought a pair of old lady fat-holder-inner undergarments to wear underneath. I was talking to a girlfriend before I left, and told her I wasn’t sure how much fat they could be holding in, and perhaps I bought a size too big, because they felt too comfortable. We even joked about perhaps I had no fat to hold in. Oh I should never have mocked the fat-holder-inner-undergarments.

The wedding started at 1:30. By 1:22, I was texting the same friend with “Wedding has not yet started and I am already starting to rethink the fat holder inner undies and wondering if I can take them off in the loo”. Yeah, those things are evil, man.

On Leave

January 7, 2009

In 10 minutes I’m on holidays. I’ll be back mid next week with tales of the very strange city of Adelaide. The state of South Australia seems to be mainly famous for serial killers, mass murderers, and generally being a place of weirdos. On a positive note, the Barossa Valley right nearby is one of the best wine regions in the world…