It's got to be floating around somewhere

After teasing Anney with the merest, slightest suggestion of a post, if and when I felt I like it, I've finally decided to write one. It hasn't been easy you know, whilst having the flu, outings and yes, even work on the side. On the plus side, I had not one, but TWO days off in the last two weeks. Which is practically a record for me, what with my perfect record of presenteeism and all. Yes, presenteeism. Where's that urban dictionary sidebar when you need it.

So here we are, 2 weeks later, and I've only just started on this post. I can just imagine Anney thinking, god, and then it'll take another week before she even posts the bloody thing. Gah! Hee hee, right you are, Anney, right you are.

Well, enough procrastinating I suppose. SIGH. Where was I? Right, procrastinating. Anyway, it was all Anney's idea. She'd jumped onto the latest bandwagon popular right at this very minute with bargain hunters, which is coupon-buying. Not your run-of-the-mill shop-a-dockets, (how many hyphens could I get into this sentence? Count 'em!) god no, but proper, group mania-like vouchers that offer hard-to-believe savings. The catch was, I had to take a day off work, which I wouldn't normally do, dedicated as I am, but in this case, I was compelled to. COMPELLED TO, I tell ye. Besides, it was the only appointment time they had. And surely I couldn't be held accountable for that.

And what appointment was this for, pray tell?, I hear you ask, in that tone. Why, my pretties, it was actually for a floatation tank session at this Bondi Junction centre. That's right, floatation, just like Dr Hibbert prescribed.

Dr Hibbert: Well I could prescribe some harsh antacids, but I think Lisa would benefit more from some herbal teas or aromatherapy.
Lisa: Yeah! You know, some of that all-natural stuff is really very well -
Homer: Oh, no you don't! Screw that touchy-queery crap! We'll take the harsh antacids. Nothing's too good for my little girl!

We hadn't been to Bondi Junction for ages, and we luxuriated in the surrounds of its Westfields for a while before our appointment. There was something about the place that struck me as definitely bourgeois, maybe it was the cowhide leather winged chairs and lounges and moulded wood sculptures strategically placed throughout each floor. Or maybe the presence of some high street boutiques. No, it was probably the food courts, with views towards the city in the distance, and even the seating wouldn't look out of place in someone's living room. The one for show that is, where you have tea and biscuits with your guests and "catch up". Whatever, the point is, the food court was a bit lah dee dah, and you wouldn't get this out at the west, that's for sure, not even at Parramatta. But you can't blame them for trying. It's alright, you'll get there some day, Parra.

Our appointment was for about 11:20, or something. The lady briefed us with what to do before and after the 1 hour session, and then we were left to our own devices. The room was large enough to contain two of these floatation tanks, a shower and a locker. After showering quickly, we popped earplugs in and ventured into the tanks. They each had a little roller door like a bread bin. Apparently they were filled with a secret mixture of tepid water and epsom salt, which was crucial to helping us actually float, as the water only came up to the knees. I felt like trying it at home in the bath, I'm pretty sure it's just a matter of finding the right portions. And bob's your uncle, you've got your own open-air floatation tank. Jealous?

A bit of music played to indicate the session had started, and it stopped after a while, supposedly so that you can fall into a dream-like state of relaxation. The water felt slightly warm, and it had a syrupy feel to it because of the salt, I felt like I was getting ready to pickle myself for an hour. Mmm, salty. For a while I was staring at the light through the slats in the ceiling, and getting a bit bored. Maybe I was trying too hard. It was dark, and I thought I might as well close my eyes and feign deep sleep. All I remember is this sense of weightlessness, suddenly wondering if my jewellery was going to corrode or be encrusted with salt as I'd forgotten to take it off, wondering what time it was, and wishing my earplugs were waterproof and could be hooked up to a music system. But other than that, it was kind of relaxing. After a while I was feeling tired just lying there on my back, and I wanted to turn over onto my side and get into a foetal position, but the water wasn't dense enough, even with all that salt in it. But just as I thought I could get used to this, it was all over too soon, as the music started up again, and we were gently reminded it was back to gravity. Ugh, gravity.

Afterwards I queried Anney as to what her experience was like, and she also felt the same, she just couldn't just let herself go and fall into a coma. I could hear her in the other tank splashing about, probably trying to get comfortable. Or maybe she was making a game out of it, I don't know. Maybe we just weren't used to the level of relaxation that it offered, if only we could have relaxed enough...

Alien: We offered you paradise. You would have experienced emotions a hundred times greater than what you call love. And a thousand times greater than what you call fun. You would have been treated like gods and lived forever in beauty. But, now, because of your distrustful nature, that can never be.
Marge: Mmmm. For a superior race, they really rub it in.

Funnily enough it was rather relaxing while we hung around afterwards blowdrying our hair and availing ourselves of the free tea and cookies, which I thought was a nice touch. The little lounge area also had a couple of tarot card sets for the waiting floatees, so we had self-taught mini readings. Anney did a better job of it than I, giving a much more insightful reading about whether the powers-that-be thought Vay was my soulmate (apparently they thought he may as well be, and meh, whatever), whereas I couldn't be half-assed giving a proper reading. That's how relaxed I was.

We decided to head back to Westfields for lunch... after detouring down the road trying to find this jazz place I saw on one of those street map directories, with the vague diagrams of where things are. Those things always put my sense of direction off - "You are here" my arse!

By the time we made it back though, there was only half an hour left of yum cha at this Chinese restaurant with a variety of barrang and asians thrown in for good measure. I was vaguely tempted to join them, but with only half an hour left before the session ended, and only a couple of lonely trolleys being pushed around, it didn't seem worthwhile. And as anyone knows, yum cha is one of those things that you need a couple of hours for, just to eat and digest, and to obviously take your sweet arse time with it while people outside are giving you death stares while they're still waiting to get in. Ah, yum cha.

Alas, we had to settle for getting takeaway. I got a half decent meal of five spice duck and flat rice noodles that stuck together like good waffles, annoyingly enough, whereas Anney had a bad experience ordering fried rice and a few soup dumplings. Apparently they just didn't understand her order, despite her repeated attempts to just point out what she wanted. I wasn't there myself, but from what she told me, I'm pretty sure I'd be pissed off and writing a blog about it.

We browsed a few shops after that, and I don't remember buying anything, since Louis Vuitton was a just a tad out of my price range, and Anney was feeling sick, but I did manage to get a lint remover as Anney's shearling jacket kept rubbing off on mine. Hmm, I wonder if she wore it on purpose to stop me leaning on her as we walked? Hmm, well played Anney, well played. Oh well, guess I'll have to carry it around with me from now on, heh heh, don't want to miss out on any leaning opportunities.

Yeah, so that's about it really. All in all, it was an enjoyable day out, and I can't complain when I've been floating and eating all day while people at work are working their arses off for me, surely.

Hmm, I've used the term arses a lot in this post haven't I? Must be the aftereffects of all that floating.

Some of us are just born to rock

Update: Blogger finally reloaded my post I see. I've had to recreate the last paragraph or so, from memory. But I guess I was one of the lucky ones, as most people haven't had their posts reloaded, and have had to recreate their work. Some of them even lost their entire blogs as a result of the botched maintenance. Let's hope this never happens again, Blogger.

"Should I get it?" Vay was asking us. We were in the nearest EB Games, with Tooch and Vuthy, looking at the Guitar Hero pack which came with a game and a guitar. I had a feeling Vay was just fishing for the first sign of approval from any one of us, actually, it could've been from anyone. "You there, should I get Guitar Hero?" "What?" "That's it, I'm getting it." He didn't even need it really, but he was going to get it anyway. I was vaguely reluctant, but was soon outweighed by Vuthy's, Tooch's and the random passerby's encouragement.

It wasn't going to be a cheap purchase, not from EB anyway - god they're a rip off if there ever was one - so we decided to try our luck at good ol' Big W. At the risk of getting someone fired, the sales guy went all the way to the back of the warehouse behind the plastic flapping doors (I've always wondered what kind of mysterious artefacts they have in there) and pulled out a Guitar Hero set COMPLETE with a drum kit, guitar and the game, which I can't recall (Guitar Hero World Tour or something, meh, they all sound the same) for the bargain basement price of $98. We couldn't believe our luck (Vuthy: "Sure he didn't say a HUNDRED and 98?") and needless to say, we thought there must be some mistake, surely (not that we were going to say anything then, god no, goes against the rules of negotiation, you see).

So before the guy realised his mistake (IF there was one, mind you, Big W, in case you're reading this - low prices every day and all) we bought it there and then. Hee hee! Got away with it!

First things first. We had to get the baby home and set it up properly, in the living room, with everyone putting it together like it was a piece of ikea furniture. As none of us had prior experience with guitars and/or drums, it was left to Vuthy to demonstrate how to use the contraptions. Apparently he was a natural. Vay had a go at the guitar and was fairly competent at it, and we soon discovered that Tooch was quite good with the drums. Yes, a little too good.

And then it was my turn.

First I tried the guitar, and it was just such a struggle. I couldn't get my goddamned fingers to align with the fretboard, which is critical to actually playing notes on the thing, and THEN you had to STRUM the thing once you had the correct fingers on the correct notes AT THE SAME TIME. It was just too bloody hard. Well, I gave that up quick smart, and was soon relegated to singing off key with the microphone. Well at least I could do THAT.

Homer: Kids, you tried your best, and you failed miserably. The lesson is: never try.

Then it was time for the drum tryouts. After watching Tooch playing with some formidable dexterity, I was nervous. After my experience with the guitar, I knew that hand and eye coordination wasn't my forté. How was I going to cope with 2 sticks, 3 toms, 2 cymbals and a foot pedal? I tried to remember Vuthy's advice. The colours of the drums and cymbals corresponded with the colours on the "highway" on the screen, "it's not that hard" - ok, he didn't actually say that, but I'm pretty sure he was thinking it.

The songs were rated according to the level of difficulty (depending on how fast the beat was, or how many colours needed to be hit in sequence) so we started with a relatively easy song for me. I can't remember what it was, I was too busy just trying to keep up. I was all over the place at first, even though it was just 2 colours. The thing with the drums was, you had to keep up with the beat, as the tutorial told us that the other players would rely on your timing. No pressure or anything. And if you happened to mess up a sequence of beats, well you'd be "cancelled out" until you got your act together again, and then it would be up to the other players to keep up the score. And if you didn't? You'd lose the whole game. Besides, it would just start sounding shit. SHIT, I tell ye. And nobody wants that.

Gradually though, I could feel myself getting better. I wasn't up to Tooch's level, god no, but I was getting there. The fascinating thing about playing was, all of a sudden I had a new found appreciation of rock music. I even felt like listening to rockier songs in my playlists, and found myself listening out for the drum beats in the song, and imagining myself playing along. And it doesn't stop there. I even downloaded songlists with my preferences highlighted that I'd get Vay to download for me once the playstation network is back up. Which could be by the end of the month, they said. God, it'd better be. There's at least 50 songs I want, damn it. Hmm, yeah, I think I'm getting a tad obsessed.

Woman: Gavin, don't you already have this game?
Gavin: No, Mom, you idiot! I have Bloodstorm, and Bone Squad, and Bloodstorm II, stupid.
Woman: Oh, I'm sorry, honey. We'll take a Bonestorm.
Gavin: Get two. I'm not sharing with Kaitlin!

Anyway, the point is, this is the greatest invention in the world, and it's disappointing that they may not be making more games due to lack of public demand. God, what is wrong with you people. Apparently the music gaming industry is dead and/or dying. As John Bonham once said: "There were times when I blundered and got the dreaded look from the lads. But that was a good sign. It showed I'd attempted something I'd not tried before."

And isn't that the true meaning of life? Meh, whatever, I just wanted to end on a philosophical note.

The Bruno Mars Effect

Now that I'm hyped up on caffeine, I think I can finally start this post. Yeah, sure it's been a while. Maybe even 6 months. But all this shit's happened to me lately (both the bad AND even the good kind, ugh... the good kind), and I just haven't been compelled enough to vent my spleen. But maybe I will now, just maybe I will.

It was a couple of months ago that Sophie decided that she felt like going to see Bruno Mars, apparently he was showing at the Big Top at Luna Park, and would I like to come? Would I??? Alright, maybe it was just meh, might as well. The next thing I know, I'm getting agitated and anxious trying to get tickets on the Ticketek website, and even going so far as to come to work early to make sure I made the ticket release time. That's 9 AM, damn it. I'm never that early. That's right, early. God I've got it good. Anyway, the point was, I ended up getting tickets directly from the Big Top website, NO THANKS TO TICKETEK.

Homer: You just lost yourself a customer!
Moe: I've forced myself to wha...?
Homer: You just lost yourself a customer!
Moe: Homer.. I'll talk to you tomorrow!
Homer: You just lost yourself a customer!
Moe: Yeah you can use it!

Then all I had to do was sit back and wait till the day. In the meantime Sophie bought his Doo- Wops and Hooligans cd, whereas I may or may not have downloaded a few of his songs, if not his whole album. It was the least I could do. Then there was the decision of what to wear, not that he could've seen us in the mass of screaming teeny boppers, but you never know. "You there, with the spotted maroon jacket." After which I can imagine Sophie pushing her way through
the crowd, saying "Out of the way, bitches."

So we met up after work, and had surprisingly decent yet cheap sushi from Sushi Hotaru, which replaced the gift store Japan City, alas. I sort of liked that place. The sushi train was standard enough, but we were glad that we came by fairly early, around 6ish, as there was a small crowd forming outside, and all they could do was watch us eat - slowly, sipping our hot green tea, slurping our miso, and savouring each and every delicious morsel. Not that we did it on purpose. God no.

Eventually we had to give up our seats to the starving onlookers, and made our way to the station for Milsons Point. It was a nice night for it, a bit on the cool side. We got a couple of shots at the Harbour Bridge, and then a few more at the illuminated Luna Park smilie face. There was already a loosely formed line, and it was about 8ish by the time we got in. It was basically like a dark hall, with a smoke machine and a red neon sign setting the scene. By then, it was pretty much filled to capacity with a mix of teens, 20 and 30 somethings, and for AT LEAST an hour we were treated (subjected) to the pre show entertainment, this band called Diafrix. Their music was an odd mix of reggae, hip hop and electro, accompanied by some unintelligible rapping. I was trying to keep my mind open and groove along to their music, maybe even trying to catch a few words, but it was just all TOO HARD. God they grated. Even so, I tried not to let my sheer disappointment show, although it was clearly on the faces of a lot of people around me, and their lack of body movements pretty much said it all, really. The most the crowd ever did was jump around a couple of times, but even then I'm pretty sure it was out of politeness.

Maybe it was a reverse psychology sort of thing, where it was just a matter of building up the tension, the anticipation and in my case, the rage, until people were mentally willing them to get off the stage. Sophie quipped that maybe we should all be chanting Bru-no over and over again, to get him to come out already, and to drop a hint or two to Diafrix.

Anyway, he finally set foot on stage around 9 something, and then we were screaming like fangirls. He wore his trademark trilby hat, and looked his fine self. I couldn't believe it was actually him on stage in Luna Park's Big Top of all places, after seeing him in videoclips, it felt surreal. He played a couple of songs from way back when, when his band was just starting out in bars and clubs (Whoo! Yeah! Bars and clubs!) and the concert had this intimate feel, with remixed and rock versions played, and slowing down with an acoustic version of "Our first time", which I would file in the slow lovemaking category.

There was a mezzanine level, but that was a bit far back, so we decided to try our luck and get as close as we could to the stage without being annoying about it. Which is more than I can say for this lady and a couple of others near us. And now let my rant begin here. Feel free to skim ahead. When a couple of guys tried to fill a space which had opened in the crowd, this lady demanded to know if they were AWARE that there were TWO YOUNG GIRLS behind them who COULDN'T SEE? And because she wouldn't let up about it, the guys were put off and backtracked their way behind us. I mean, that's what we're dealing with here.

SIGH. For god's sake woman, for one thing, no one was stopping those girls from stepping forward into the space if they wanted to, and for a second thing, even if they did step forward, EVERY FUCKING PERSON IS TALLER THAN THEM, so it wasn't going to make a fuck of a difference anyway. If you were so concerned about the fact they couldn't see, why didn't you tell them to make their way to the front, or better yet, the mezzanine level? In case you hadn't noticed, it was a struggle for most people of average height even to see, and you don't see them complaining about it, let alone making useless complaints to other people. And for a third thing, (yeah, sorry, once I get started... I warned ya) it didn't even look like she even knew these girls. It was just a pointless exercise in how to be a whiner and ruin everyone else's experience. Lesson learned, lady.

You'd think that would be it. But no. She had another whining ace up her sleeve, and she pulled that one out when we were all engrossed in the concert, and trying to capture the moment to savour for the rest of our lives. So in order to do that, people had to raise their cameras/mobiles in the air to get a good view, and then she started piping up about how it's illegal and something or other about copyright infringement, to this group in front of her, whilst quite a few others around us were also using their devices. A guy from the group pointed this out to her, but she flatly ignored that blatant fact. I was hoping he'd tell her to just shut up already, but I suppose at least some of us are trying to be civilised. End of rant.

Other than that, we all had a jolly good time, albeit we were vaguely disappointed that the show only lasted for an hour or so, but then I guess that's probably because he's only got those few songs to start with. Which is better than nothing.

Afterwards Sophie and I were making our way home by train, having to stop at various stations to change trains due to trackwork and whathaveyou. At one station we had a bit of time on our hands and we decided to call Vay to pick us up (Vay? I thought the bastard broke up with you? Hmm, yes, about that. Well we realised we both needed each other enough to get back together. And there you have it, in a nutshell). I remember it being after midnight or so, and we were getting cold, and discussing what makes a good bowl of instant noodles. The conversation ran like this:

Me: You know what I like putting in? Ham.
Sophie: Ham? Ham?!
Me: Yes, ham.
Sophie: What, like ham in a can?
Me: No, not spam.

Sorry, I just had to add that in, you just had to be there, it was a like a Monty Python skit. Alright, it was getting late and we were cold and tired. Trust me, it was hilarious. For the record, I like adding ham slices, tomatoes, lettuce, coriander and an egg, which is poached in the saucepan. And that's how you make excellent instant noodles.

Harbour Bridge Bike Tour

Sorry this had to take precedence over everything else I've wanted to post recently, but it was just so EPIC that it was practically blocking my neurons from connecting properly. Oh, and the fact that it just so happens to serve as an up yours gesture to the ex. That's right, take that ya undeserving bastard! Hee hee!

Ugh, sorry, on another unrelated note, I just wanted you all to know that it's taken me about 5 whole hours to write these few paragraphs for your entertainment, as I've just been browsing iTunes and downloading apps for the last few hours. And now you know the real reason it takes me ages to make a post... that's right, I'm looking for inspiration. I mean, it doesn't just come to me you know.

***

The forecast for Sunday was thunderstorms, but I was pretty determined to go ahead with it. I had a point to prove, and I was damned if I was going to let a bit of rain ruin my parade. I woke up at the godforsaken hour of 7:30 am on Sunday morning to get ready, and made it out the door at 8:30 am, to wait for the bus. Which, as I should have known, was late as usual (huh, a bus on Sunday, on time, what were you thinking?). Normally I wouldn't have cared, but this time I had an appointment, damn it. Thank god I got a ride to the station instead, and caught the train to Circular Quay.

It felt a bit surreal being on a train that early, and I was dying for a coffee at the very least. I made it to the Bonza Bike Tours place in the Rocks right on time at 10:15 am, and waited while this (admittedly cute) guy named Pat served another couple wanting to do a tour the next day. I looked around the small space, it was like a little office, but with bicycles lined up inside, and more out the back in the courtyard. Apparently there was a miscommunication somewhere, and the guide who was meant to take me couldn't make it. So while he sorted that out, (being all apologetic about it), I grabbed a latte (that's with two sugars, FYI), from the french patisserie next door, which according to Pat did the best coffee, in the Rocks, if not Sydney. Huh, I'll be the judge of that.

I came back and Pat told me he'd be my guide for the day, (which I was secretly hoping for, not simply because he was cute, alright, maybe that played a part in it, but I'd already established a rapport with him, and I couldn't be half arsed doing it again with some other random guide). He opened up the bike shed and there were even more bikes stacked up. It reminded me of our shed at home, and Greeny all alone, her tires slowly deflating. Meh, what can you do. Pat realised I was actually a bit shorter than him, so I'd need a smaller frame (I noticed they had mostly Trek bikes) and we adjusted the seat. Even the helmet fit surprisingly well.

By the time we left it was about 11am, and we had a full 5 HOURS ahead of us. We were standing near the Overseas Passenger Terminal, and he was talking me through the gears. Hmm, I tried not to feel nostalgic, as this reminded me a bit of when I was learning with my ex. Even Pat said he had a friend who was taught by her boyfriend. Ugh. Let's move on now. I warned Pat that I was a bit rusty, having been at least 2 months or so out of practice, but that didn't faze him, thank god. So I did a few little circles to get my bearings, and the next thing I knew, we were off down the road. DOWN THE ROAD! Alright, it was a side street, but STILL.

I remember thinking, I can't believe I'm riding in Circular Quay, when all this time I was merely walking. Now, it's just occurred to me this is turning out to be a massive post that I probably won't be able to publish for days, if not weeks, but in a nutshell, it was fucking awesome. And I've got actual photos this time. Huh, look at that.

I'd thought I'd do you all a favour and summarise the highlights (for anyone who's interested in taking the tour, there's a few good spoilers here, but that's hardly my fault).

Millers Point: Pat started off with a bit of history about the place, not that I can remember much of it now, but there was a sculpture, Brett Whiteley's Black Totem II, which I wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't pointed it out, as it was a giant egg on a nest, on a pole between two buildings. I mean, anyone would've missed it. But what I didn't miss, in both senses of the word, was that godawful structure at the roundabout. Apparently a live installation artwork, it consisted of a crushed car with the giant rock still on it. Just looking at it makes me sigh in frustration.

Dawes Point and the Sydney Harbour Bridge: Heading up the hill to the main cycleway on the bridge was a bit of a rip. I was puffing at the first (not that minor, damn it) hill, and kind of embarrassed at how unfit I was compared to Pat. But he did have the heart to assure me that he does this regularly, so it's not like I should be comparing. I mean, just look at him... yep, he was built for it alright. Hee hee. Ahem. By this stage there was a light drizzle, but we put on our très chic ponchos and made our way across the bridge. It was one way traffic, and the ground was slippery, and I was tiring a little, because I swear to god it felt like we were on some kind of uphill incline, even though it was flat. I managed to make it across half way, and I took the obligatory photos. Who knew when I'd be up there again? The view was definitely worth it though. Hmm, yes, let the bragging begin. I had to carry my bike down the other end of the stairs though, which was a bit of a bitch. I suppose I could've played the damsel in distress, but maybe Pat was testing my strength, 'cause that bike was heaps heavier than my Greeny, no offense. He promised to carry it up on the way back though, so at least it wasn't a total cop out... heh heh.

Kirribilli: Pat was keeping up the commentary all the way, even while he was cycling (sometimes hands free) ahead of me, and looking back to make sure I was keeping up. Well lah dee dah. I remember the beauty of the lovely terrace houses, and the quiet streets, and how easy it was navigating my way past parked cars, even with cars coming up right alongside us (I was using Pat as my bodyguard on the traffic side, so it was alright... hee hee). It was a beautiful scene, with the purple flowered jacaranda trees, and how the delicate blossoms would gently fall with the breeze and cover the pathways and cars in lightly scented, lavender patches. Then he tells me what a hassle it is cleaning up that crap. Ugh yes, nevermind that. It was around here that we checked out Kirribilli House (well, we hovered outside the gates), where the Prime Minister would normally stay if she feels like it, apparently she prefers Canberra(!) No offense to my brother, but it's a bit on the flat side. And I should know, having stayed there myself, so this isn't one of my wild, baseless accusations.

Lavender Bay and Milsons Point: I'd always thought that Lavender Bay was some kind of nudist beach, but I think was confused with a certain other beach. Unfortunately for you, we didn't go past there. The view was good though. "Yes, I'm sure it was", I can hear you sniggering. Ugh, I meant the harbour. God, the immaturity of you people. Anyway, we made our way through to Luna Park, where Pat told me that the famous smiling clown face scares little kids sometimes and that some of the residents used to complain about the fact that the park's big rollercoaster was giving them the shits, even though it was there before they moved in. Well that's what happens when you live near an amusement park, duh.

Sydney Observatory: By this time we were pretty much starving, and we parked our bikes at the park. It was my first time at the Observatory, and I had a little wander around. I've always wanted to go there at night, and bag myself a star, probably in the phoenix constellation, since it'll be viewable around my birthday. Hint hint, people. Pat came back with our lunches, and we sat there on the park bench having these moroccan lamb sandwiches (the best he's ever had, apparently, that's what he said... ah I love that saying) and we talked about how he'd stayed up till about 3 am trying to capture the perfect shots for his tropfest short film, which I was quite fascinated to hear about, even though it vaguely reminded me about a certain ex's pastime. There's a lot of competition for Tropfest, and I hope he makes it into the finalists, just so I can casually remark to random strangers that I personally know the director.

Barangaroo, King Street Wharf, Cockle Bay Wharf and Darling Harbour: I felt like a nap after eating, but we had to push on for the next 2 hours or so, through these areas. It was a great ride through Barangaroo, where they held that World Youth Day thingo for the Pope. It's a dead space at the moment, but apparently they're in the process of turning it into some kind of new environmentally sustainable community precinct. OR SOMETHING. And Pat was all for it, he even thought it was a good idea. Huh, at the time. We weaved our way through the Sunday walkers on the wharves, although it was getting a bit tricky for me around Darling Harbour, as the crowds got gradually thicker, and I just felt like ringing my bell and yelling "Out of my way!" in a fit of cycling rage. As usual, Pat was having no trouble at all. I was feeling quite proud of myself even at this stage, as riding around people always kinds of intimidates me, what with their sudden and random movements and all. God, here I am, a lone girl on a bike just trying to get by, surrounded by flocks of ravenous, out of control people. And they say cyclists are a public hazard.

Chinatown and Hyde Park: Still reading eh? Told you it was a massive post. Probably one of the best I've ever done, as I recall. We half walked our way through the narrow streets of Chinatown, until we got out onto Hay Street, and this was where Pat warned me about keeping my bike wheels out of the light rail tracks, as apparently they're the perfect width to get stuck. I was hoping for a coffee stop at this point, but he couldn't spare a square, so we pushed on till we got to Elizabeth Street (it was a bit of a struggle going up the incline, and I know I was meant to adjust my gears and what have you, but I just couldn't be fucked), and onto Hyde Park, which was beautiful as always. I've always wanted to ride there, and one of these days, I'm going to go back when the weather makes up its mind about what season it's in. I could've sat on that bench resting my ass (thank god for my padded nicks!) for a while longer, but we had places to go. STILL. As you can imagine, I was pretty buggered, but Pat promised a magnificent sight later on that would totally be worth my time and hard earned sweat. Huh, it'd better be!

The Domain and Mrs Macquaries Point: It was a peaceful, serene ride through Art Gallery Road, with its tree lined paths winding through the Botanical Gardens and passing by the crazies (as they're affectionately known) on their soapboxes outside the Art Gallery of NSW. We came up to this part of the road, where a couple of wedding cars were stalling, and some guy was fiddling with his umbrella as he was getting out of the car, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREAKIN' ROAD. And naturally, Pat manouvered around him like a pro, while I tried squeezing my way past his massive golf umbrella. The guy managed to back into me without even looking, and I was left with no alternative but to crash into the gutter, falling hands first into the grass. Pat was visibly shocked, and hurried over to help me up, and he was going to have a go at the guy for parking in the middle of the pathway, but I, (being the diplomatic one, as you would all know) calmed him down. I was more annoyed at the fact that the umbrella guy didn't even apologize. I can't stand that in people. I don't even think he even cared that I'd fallen over, the bastard. Meh, what can you do. I got on my bike again and rode away, and took a bit of satisfaction knowing their perfect little wedding day was already ruined by the rain... hee hee. Later on I joked to Pat that it wasn't a real ride without a crash at some point, and that I've had worse, which made him laugh. Hee hee, yes, aren't I the charmer.

Due to heritage reasons, we couldn't actually ride through the Botanical Garden paths, so we dismounted and walked our way to Mrs Macquaries Chair for that beautiful view that he was going on about before, and yes, I'd have to say it was worth it. We talked about how distracting the view was when you were trying to watch a movie at the Openair cinema set up on the water... which led onto some discussion about what our top 5 movies were, which was actually quite a hard question to answer, but the Shawshank Redemption was definitely on my list. He also mentioned Pulp Fiction (which I still haven't seen yet - don't judge me, damn it), The Godfather and more recently Inception, which is practically a given.

Opera House and the Rocks: I was vaguely disappointed knowing that this would be our final stop, since it'd been such a grand ride throughout the locales of Sydney, stopping by all the best landmarks. Hmm, if only Pat didn't have that whole professional thing going on... even his shirt said, "Wanna Ride?" God, what am I supposed to think about that? Hee hee, don't mind if I do. Anyway, now that I know where to go, I think I'll do it again sometime... care to join me?

This one's for Casey

I thought I'd do a little something for Casey, as a parting gift, and I wish him the best of luck. God I'll miss him! Ok, sure this post might be peppered with some my own angst, but STILL, where else is he going to see his name in print? Heh heh.

I usually don't do quick and dirty posts (hmm, quick and dirty eh, you're thinking, god you're all sick), but I've been thinking back on what I've been up to lately, and the details are getting fuzzier by the day, and if I don't do something about it, it'll be gone forever. FOREVER. Even Anney tells me she looks forward to my posts more than Facebook updates. Ah, facebook. That old thing. Hmph, still around, I see. Ugh.

Anyway, rewind to the 8th October. It was a balmy Friday night, and someone had just joined the company, so we were having drinks at the local. I didn't get there till later, so it was just the four of us left, Casey, Katrena and Patrick, who apparently could drink us all under the table and then would probably think that we couldn't hold our drinks or something.

Somehow word had gotten out that I'd split from Vay. (Ugh, god, is there a post where he doesn't come up?) and I was cordially invited to pour my heart out and bitch to my heart's content. It was still pretty fresh at the time, and Casey and Katrena were offering gems of advice. This was the night that he wanted to see me before he left for his trip to Indonesia to see his ex and get some closure. Closure? It's been more than 3 years, and he wanted closure on a relationship that he had ended, and in which time the girl had already moved on, has a boyfriend (so I'm told) and is living overseas? So what does he do? Break up our relationship to get some closure on one that was already broken up. And what does he have to show for it now? Nothing but two broken relationships and two broken hearts. As for him, he'll get his come-uppance. Hee hee, I've always wanted to use that word.

Whoops, sorry about all that, went off on a bit of a tangent there. Meh, had to come out sooner or later.

So out of sympathy or possibly even the goodness of his own heart, later that evening, Casey invited me to a drinks gathering in Darlinghurst, at an artsy looking bar called Lo-Fi. I don't even remember the route we took now, but it was worth the walk. Sure I might have had doubts, and I can't say that I didn't have a little anxiety about socialising with unfamiliar people on the way there, but Casey was firm and quietly reassuring me that this would do me a world of good, he was practically doing me a favour. In fact, if I didn't shut up now, he'd leave me stranded in the middle of Darlinghurst. Or something along those lines.

It was a retro looking bar, where there were already a few of Casey's and Annabey's friends (Edwina, Mark, Alex, and Aria) sitting on the balcony that overlooked Taylor Square. I grabbed a random glass of wine from the bar, and joined them, where I listened in like an eavesdropper and even managed to join in a bit. When it got cold we retreated indoors for more random conversation, where I remember talking to Edwina and Mark, who I was delighted to find out were cyclists, and would later be cycling to meet us at yet another understatedly cool pizza joint called Mad Pizza e Bar. It just made me want to live in the inner city. I'd be cycling everywhere.

Before deciding on Mad Pizza though, we stopped off at Casey's cute lil' apartment (even he had two bikes propped against the wall, god I was jealous), and met up with Zoe. Actually I'm not sure when Zoe turned up (well I can't be responsible for all my wheelings and dealings) but she was also nice company. I think I complimented her on her scarf.

It was about 9 something when we got there, and got a long table upstairs in the private banquet room, as you do. The place was buzzing, so I don't know how we managed that, but it was an unusual looking room, with a cardboard moose head on the wall, and what appeared to be unopened bottles of Bollinger against this mirror? Oh, you know, just for decoration... They even had an ipod speaker, so we could've tuned our own music. I love places that offer that. I'll give 'em my playlist next time. And THEN that'll be what you call classy.

We ended up ordering about 6 pizzas to share between the 9 of us (a guy named Jeremy turned up later out of the blue), so it worked out alright. I particularly liked the de mario (with roasted pumpkin - I like roasted pumpkin on anything) and the lamb pizza was a bit of alright too. We all got glasses of different red wines (I went with Teusner's The Independent Shiraz Mataro, that's right, I picked it by the sound of its name), and it actually turned out quite well. That's how good I am.

At about 11pm, and Zoe, Aria and I walked back to King's Cross. I caught the train with Aria and we talked about random stuff like where to get the best cat's poo coffee, and how free she felt when she left home and lived with some flat mates. Which was something I was hoping to do with the ex, but that never eventuated. Anyway, that's his loss. Now I'll have to find someone else to bed and make wild passionate love with. Oh well...

For good times and bad times

Funnily enough, once you're single, you miraculously discover your friends again. It's like you've come out of a coma or something. Or it may be because they're relieved that yes, thank god she's free of that relationship, and we can finally get back to normal. Or, perhaps, they actually genuinely care, and they know exactly what it feels like, and what you really need right now is a good drinkin' and bitchin' session. 'Cause that what friends are for, Anney sings.


Whatever it is, I found myself practically inundated with invites...alright, maybe it just felt like it. It had been many a year since I'd seen my old friend from high school, Sophea. It was just on Friday that I was messaged by Julie, one of my other old friends (how about that?), asking whether I'd be free to have dinner at a local restaurant, along with Sophea. Why, yes, I'd love to. No sooner had I said yes to that invite, there was a text from one of the guys I met at Wako, asking whether I was doing anything 'cool' that night as well. Hmm, bit late there, I'm afraid, this girl's got plans. I did feel slightly guilty turning him down though, as I did sort of mention that I'd be free, but you know, it's first come, first served with me these days. Hee hee, god I'm conceited. Oh, and I suppose I should mention there was an email from what's his face, asking if I wanted to watch a movie with him that night, would you believe. God, the audacity. Thankfully I'd already had plans. Take that ya bastard.


Hmm, yes, wasn't I the popular one. Anyway, it was a warm reunion between the three of us at the buzzing restaurant, it felt a little surreal seeing Sophea again after so long, and feeling awestruck at her stories about working and living abroad in London, which is something I've longed to do, but just never had the gumption to do it, damn it. Well, at the very least visit the place. I had a miniature bottle of shiraz to go with my rump steak, and it was just a pleasant evening reminiscing about good old times. I actually felt like I'd been missing out on these girly get togethers, and I hadn't even realised.

The hour was growing late, and Sophie dropped Julie off, and then we drove back to my place which was just down the road. Funnily enough, we still lived in the vicinity of each other, yet only recently had managed to catch up. I suppose we just let life carry us away for a while. It seemed a little early for bed, and the next thing I know, Sophie and I were just sitting there in the car in my driveway continuing our conversation, and generally talking shit for the next 2 hours. And we would've continued talking into the small hours of the morning if she hadn't wanted to go the bathroom. Hee hee.

I finally got in past midnight, and for some reason, I was smiling to myself. And it was then I realised how much I enjoyed having the company of friends, and that too, it was

the first genuine smile I've had since my break up.

Bittersweet

I was going to go on hiatus with this blog... Vay broke up with me last week, pretty unceremoniously I might add, the bastard. As you can probably tell, we've been on the rocks for a while... although I hadn't thought things were that bad. Sure we fight and all, but which one of us can say they haven't thrown a tanty or two? Anyway, I'm not going to dedicate this post to all that just yet. No, there'll be plenty more where that came from, that's for god damn sure. But for now, let me regale you with something surprisingly delightful, just two days after he broke it off...

There I was in the office, it was a quiet Friday afternoon, and someone was meant to organise the monthly food and wine festival, and they hadn't. I was pretty annoyed I couldn't score free booze. I just wanted to drink my woes away, and now I had to pay for it. I wanted something a little different and where I wouldn't feel out of place. Somewhere that served hard spirits wouldn't go astray either.

When the weight of the world has got you down
and you want to end your life.
Bills to pay, a dead-end job,
and problems with the wife.
But don't throw in the tow'l,
'cuz there's a place right down the block...
Where you can drink your misery away...
At Flaming Moe's.... (Let's all go to Flaming Moe's...)
When liquor in a mug (Let's all go to Flaming Moe's...)
can warm you like a hug. (Flaming Moe's...)
And happiness is just a Flaming Moe away...
Happiness is just a Flaming Moe away...

The place that came to mind was a little known venue called the Absinthe Salon, in Surry Hills. Absinthe eh? I thought. I had been saving this secret den for an outing with what's his face, but that's what he gets for ruining it. Anyway, I digress. It was a mysterious small bar, easily missed, which also sells Absinthe by the bottle and all its paraphernalia. I arrived around 6 and was discreetly buzzed in.

As it was fairly early, I got my own French provincial-looking table, close to the mirror, and a wall painting of the infamous green fairy. There was only one other couple (asian, as well, just to rub it in) at the time, and I had a slight pang as I was reminded of my new-found singularity. Thank god I was here for the absinthe. A lady graciously tended to me, and arranged a special glass in front of my fountain of ice water. She then proceeded to inquire about my preferences, but seeing as I was a total amateur, I went with her suggestion of a pale yellow coloured Spanish Obsello, which she assured me was a good one to start with as it wasn't too strong, in alcohol or flavour. It was still 50% though. Hmm, yes. I'll have one of those, thanks.

She poured the shot, and I arranged a small sugar cube on top slotted spoon and placed it carefully over the glass, under the spout of the fountain. It was one of those drip ones, with a tiny tap, where you top up the shot with ice water, melting the sugar at the same time, until it gradually becomes cloudy or "louche". Well isn't this lah dee dah. Oh, the extravagance.

I sipped it slowly, and let it do its magic. The taste reminded me of liquorice, and probably some kind of chinese medicine. I'm sure I've had it before. Maybe the secret ingredient was cough syrup.

I felt like an artist or a writer, looking for inspiration. The small room filled up surprisingly quickly, god, how did all these other people know about this place? Damn it, can't a girl get some privacy these days? After my first glass, I requested another brand of absinthe, just for comparison, you see. I was feeling quite adventurous by then. A gentlemanly waiter recommended a chocolate/coffee perfumed absinthe, and it too was poured in a fresh glass. By this stage I was feeling quite confident, like I do this every Friday. People around me were fascinated by the experience, I heard comments like, "Does it really give you hallucinations?" and "It feels so clandestine". Funnily enough, I had thought that I'd be intoxicated quite quickly, but I actually feeling quite alright. I was vaguely disappointed that I hadn't seen anything fairy-like at all, but the night was still young.

I managed to navigate my way to Chinatown and browsed the markets, and bought myself a pair of shoes. I don't know why, it seemed like the thing to do. After a while I thought I'd better eat something, even if I didn't have much of an appetite. (I've read that break ups can be so traumatic that it even slows your heart down, and that's why you lose your appetite and sleep, god, even mX was out to get me).

I trawled the streets until I stopped by the decorated Japanese restaurant, Wako where they had some kind of Wine Buffet promotion happening, for only $29. Wine buffet eh? God, what a concept, hee hee, it was almost too good to be true. I was ushered in and was seated in a secluded part of the restaurant. The korean girl was cute, as she tried to explain the concept, you could tell she was trying hard.

Horst: Homer, could ve have a word with you?
Homer: No.
Horst: I must have phrased that badly. My English is, how you say, inelegant. I meant to say, may we have a brief friendly chat.
Homer: No.
Horst: Once again, I have failed. [consults phrasebook] We request the pleasure of your company for a free exchange of ideas.
Homer: [runs away in panic]

Apparently there was a choice of selected whites and reds, and they would bring out various small dishes of food, and you would eat and drink to your heart's content. (the wines were even self serve, for god's sake, it was an alco's paradise). The catch was, there was a time limit of 2 hours. Not that I was complaining, god no.

She had laid out my first round of dishes (and it was surprisingly a lot), and I was enjoying my first glass of semillon sauvignon blanc in a massive wine glass. Well I guess they didn't call it a wine buffet for nothing. A group of three guys had sat down next to my table, and they had also ordered the same meal deal. One of the guys was looking over at my table to see what kind of dishes I was getting, and I laughed as he commented that I seemed to be getting more than what they were getting as a group.

As the wine flowed, the dishes kept coming out (I remember struggling to finish the food), and the next thing you know, we were talking like old friends meeting up for dinner. It was just so random and surreal. I was even invited to sit at their table, but I still felt a little shy. I was surprised to find out they worked in the same street, and for fun, I had to guess what they did for a living, just based on a couple of clues. We asked each other where we usually eat for lunch and where we go for coffee and it was fun having something in common with total strangers... we even had a little debate about open source vs proprietary software, and what brands our wallets were. It was a strange coincidence that out of all dates, times and places, they would be seated next to me, and actually strike up a conversation. Hmm, maybe I was emitting innocent, single girl vibes. At first I was actually ready to settle in for a quiet dinner for one, but it was so nice having that company to talk to, especially with how I was feeling recently. It was about 9:30pm by the time we were done with our buffets (I hadn't even had a chance to try the other wines) and one of guys even kindly escorted me back to Central station, and I even enjoyed his conversation on the way there. It made me realise that I could have fun on my own, and maybe that life wasn't so bittersweet after all.