An oldie but a goodie

Saturday night was the dreaded Hen’s night. I managed to sneak out early, using the excuse of driving home my pregnant sister-in-law, but unfortunately not early enough to avoid the stripper. I have to say that as far as strippers go he was quite tasteful. Ish. I’m not sure tasteful is a word that you can really use when it comes to a stripper, but I can’t think of anything more appropriate.

He was dressed as a cop and I have to give him credit because he was actually a reasonably good dancer. The lewd gyrating was kept to a minimum, but I’m not sure that that was because of tasteful dancing, or the inability of his hips to cope with the movements. Which brings me to my point for this blog post – at what age do you become too old to be a stripper?

Now I’m not suggesting that he was old, because he wasn’t. But given that the primary job of a stripper of this sort is to perform at hen’s nights, there comes an age where you will realise that you’re stripping in front of people who could, given an unfortunate virginity losing mishap back in your young and wild days, be your daughter. Or at least, your daughter’s slightly older friends.

The point I’m making here is that the stripper seemed a bit too old for the crowd he was performing in front of. At a guess I would say he was pushing 40. Now to me that’s not a huge age difference, but add a few more years difference for the bride and her friends who are quite a bit younger and it’s a pretty fair sort of age gap!

There must be an age that you reach when you start to realise that you’re closer to the age of the mother of the bride than to the bride herself. Wouldn’t that make it a little awkward? Or is that awkwardness overridden by the total awkwardness of getting nude in front of a room full of strangers?

Either way, the stripper wasn’t as bad as I imagined, but this could be mostly attributed to the fact that he respected my baby oil free perimeter and kept well clear.

I think the most appropriate description of the stripper is the one my grandma often uses about a favourite song – he was an oldie but a goodie.

Working on a weekend is the worst idea ever.

I'm about to spend this afternoon working at home. Can you think of a worse way to spend a Sunday?

Mirror, Mirror

The office I work in is actually inside a factory that has been fitted out with double storey offices on one side. We have 3 bathrooms; one attached to the downstairs office, one attached to the upstairs office, and one adjoining the factory for disabled access. Yet despite this plethora of bathrooms, in three rooms there is not one single mirror.

Now I’m not a vain person – in fact, I’m a reasonably low maintenance sort of girl - and it’s not really the sort of workplace where you have to worry about if your hair is still in place and your lipstick is on straight. But there are certain uses for a mirror in a bathroom that can’t be denied, no matter what your gender. For example, I like to know with a quick glance while passing by that my clothes are arranged right – to be sure that my zipper is done up properly, for instance. I like to make sure that after lunch I’m not grinning at people with a tooth full of salad. I like to know when I’ve managed to touch something in the dusty factory without noticing and have a grey handprint on my cheek. You know, little luxuries like that.

These are the sorts of things that you notice with a quick glance while passing by a mirror that I am denied in my mirror-less environment. The dilemma is, there is no way to install a mirror in a workplace without seeming vain. Because men don’t seem to concern themselves with these basic affairs of presentation, so any attempt to install a mirror leaves them with no alternate explanation in their minds other than vanity.

On the other hand, because I am the only female here, any attempt to change things usually results in everyone pretending they haven’t noticed or just huffing things like “Huh. Women.” So it could still happen. But until then I remain constantly paranoid of green teeth, open zippers and dusty handprints.

A Rant and a Bludge

Warning: Minor ranting ahead.

Some daft twit has organised our 10 year reunion and has made it $20 per head. Why the hell would I want to pay $20 for something we could do just as easily for FREE?! Ok, now i realise this might sound like a crazy tight-arse rant, but I should clarify - we’re having it at a pub. It’s not like they’ve booked some fancy function room somewhere. Last time I checked, my local pub didn’t have a $20 cover charge, especially if you were going to show up with about 100 people to drink their booze (at regular bar prices.) And it’s not just $20 for KJ and I to go along. It’s $20 EACH. That means if we want to catch up with old friends, we have to pay $40 for the privilege.

Okay, end rant. I’m done with complaining now.

I’m really just killing time before 5pm when I can head home for the day. I’m absolutely swamped at work at the moment, but I’ve hit a wall for the day and instead I’m counting the minutes until I can go home. This is what I get for working through lunch. I need a 25 minute distraction. These kinds of distractions are a lot easier to come by now that I sit with my back to a wall instead of a door - It’s amazing what wonderful distractions the internet can provide when you don’t have to be sneaky about finding them!

Actually I might be able to combine work and internet. I need to find a 10kg block of chocolate for a work promo. Browsing for that should kill a good 20 minutes or so wouldn’t you say?

I can see clearly now the rain has gone

My level of blindness is definitely getting out of hand. Tonight it was pouring with rain while I was driving home and I spent the entire drive hunched over the steering wheel like a little old lady, squinting at the road through the rain. I have to admit, more than once I was just guessing at where I was supposed to be driving.

I used to blame the old lady driving technique on the bad headlights in my old 1977 Holden, but now that have a brand new car, I can’t really use that excuse any more. I’m either going to have to come up with a new excuse, or go and get my eyes checked.

I’m open to all suggestions for new excuses, because I really, really don’t want to have to get glasses; although given the fact that I nearly drove into a strange driveway because I thought it was the road, perhaps it’s for the best.

Another Naked Man

This weekend I have to go to a Hens Night. I say have to go, because in all honesty, I’m not particularly enthused about it. These sorts of things are really only properly fun if you know a few people and in this case, I will only know two people – the bride-to-be and my sister.

Ok, I’ll be honest - the real reason that I don’t feel particularly enthused about going is that they’re getting a stripper. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the idea of a naked man in your normal sort of naked man circumstances (in fact, under the right circumstances, a naked man can be quite nice). It’s just the idea of an oiled up stranger gyrating to tacky music and stripping off to wave his what-not around in someone’s face that doesn’t really appeal to me. I know I’m not alone in this, so I’m not afraid to admit it.

Add to this the fact that I will know only two people in the room and it all becomes a little creepy – I might as well go and sit in a strip club full of strangers where I can practise my creepy old lady faces. At least that way I could leave whenever I wanted.

Crazy Week

This week has been CRAZY. I feel as though I haven’t had 2 minutes to myself for the entire week! Thank God for Fridays and weekends without plans.

The Sydney trip was really great, but it has highlighted yet again how insanely unfit I am.

The Friday evening work function which we anticipated would last for around an hour actually lasted for 5 – which meant that the last minute decision to wear my oh-so-awesome-and-sexy but oh-so-painful heels was something I began to regret as the night wore on.

For some strange reason we then decided that Saturday would best be spent wandering around Darling Harbour. Add another 12 hours of walking to 5 hours of standing in heels and you get one completely exhausted Torrygirl! By Sunday I was so exhausted that after a token trip to visit the harbour bridge and the opera house, I couldn’t get out of the car again, and we ended up sleeping for the rest of the afternoon in the QANTAS Club lounge.

It was an eventful trip so I have plenty to share, but unfortunately Friday is not yet over and I am typing this while I am supposed to be designing a large playground, so I will have to leave it there for now. I am counting the minutes until this week is over...

Popcorn Overkill

I've just been to the movies, where I ate a carton of popcorn that was roughly twice the size of my head. I feel a little sick now.

The Land of Guns, Convenience Stores & Erotic Books

In half an hour I'm heading for the airport for a weekend trip to Sydney. I've been to Sydney several times over the last few years, but only ever on business - never as a giant tourist like I will be this weekend! Ok, admittedly I do have to do work stuff today, but that’s only half a day and then the rest of the weekend is all mine.

I’m going to spend the weekend trying to discover if there really is more to Sydney than adult book stores, gun shops and convenience stores (people keep telling me there is). Mostly the convenience stores intrigue me. I’ve never been anywhere else where you can walk past two 7-Eleven stores in one block. That’s just weird. But very convenient, and I suppose that’s what it’s all about. And I suppose you need lots of snacks and stuff after all the gun and erotic book shopping.

Wish me luck!

Happy 100th!

Welcome to my 100th blog post! Ok, so 100 posts isn’t a huge milestone when you take into account the other 150 or so posts that are here at my old blog, but I’m celebrating it anyway because if I count it as 250 posts, the next big milestone isn’t really until 500, and that’s a long way off. Plus I like celebrations. Any excuse for a party.

Because this is such a milestone post, I’m going to make it a bit special by sharing 10 things about me that you may not know. Ok, so maybe that’s not special to you, but it’s my blog and my 100th, so I get to say what’s special around here!

I was going to list 100 things, but I don’t think I could come up with that many things (I’m really not that interesting) and it would also take forever.

1. I could live on Indian food. It is my all time favourite and I could eat it for every single meal. We have it at least 3 times a week. Oddly enough though, I have no desire to travel to India and eat the food – I think it would spoil my love of the flavours by being too hot. I also believe that the pappadum is one of the greatest inventions EVER.
   
   
2. I have an incredible relationship with my sister and it makes me very happy. We had some insanely evil fights when we were younger, but have somehow grown to have a very close relationship and she is one of the few people that I trust completely.
   
   
3. I’m a brunette - and regarding blondes having more fun, the only thing I think blondes have more of is bleach. No offense to any blondes reading this.
   
   
4. I play online scrabble and bejewelled blitz almost compulsively. It’s pretty much the main reason that I have a Facebook account.
   
   
5. I thank God every day for giving me a metabolism that has kept me slim despite my serious addiction to good food - because I am way too lazy to exercise.
   
   
6. I can’t imagine myself ever having babies or being a mother, but will eventually do it anyway because it seems like something I might regret not doing when I’m older. After all, I need someone to check me into happy valley when I’m too old and decrepit to look after myself.
   
   
7. I love painting – and while that sounds all clever and creative, I don’t mean the arty kind of painting, I mean the house kind of painting. I find it therapeutic and relaxing to paint walls, but I don’t do it very often because I can’t stand the prep work.
   
   
8. My house had brown shag carpeting – a relic from the 70’s when the house was built. It’s quite worn and needs replacing, but secretly I don’t really want to get rid of it because it’s warm and comfy and makes the house feel lived in.
   
   
9. I hate winter because I can’t stand being cold, but I love it because it means I get to wear scarves, which I adore. I have about 10 or 15 of them, mostly knitted woollen ones. I’m currently wearing a grey wool scarf that is twice as long as I am tall.
   
   
10. I started blogging because I wanted to take the thoughts out of my head and get them into some kind of order so that I could think things through more clearly. Publishing them online seals the deal by casting them out into the wide open so they’re not just my inner thoughts anymore. Also, the occasional comments are nice because you don’t get those if you keep it all in your head (unless you’re schizophrenic, of course).

So there you have it – 10 things about me that I’m pretty sure you didn’t (and maybe didn’t want to) know.

Happy 100th!!!!

Psychic Lunch

There are several food shops near work and we rotate between these for our lunches. It’s a very healthy choice of Noodles, Fish & Chips, Pies, Chinese, Kebabs or Charcoal Chicken (which a friend recently told me is a store concept that hasn’t caught on in America - but that’s a whole other story.)

There are about 5 of us in the office and we all eat lunch together (awww, like a big family!). A co-worker asked me earlier to think about which shop I wanted to eat from. I thought about it for a little while, and decided on a kebab, because even though kebabs are usually hangover food the kebab shop near work is absolutely stellar and you can almost pretend that it’s healthy because of the salad.

Just as I was about to pick up the phone to let him know, my mobile rang and it was KJ, whose first words were “Hi, do you want a kebab for lunch?”

How did he know!!?? Is it possible that by spending so much time together, our brains have tuned into the same wavelength in some way? This sort of thing happens to us all the time. Or perhaps I like food so much that I’m subconsciously sending out psychic brainwaves.

Either way, I’m happy because I get my kebab.

The Over-Exaggerator

I have a friend who over-exaggerates. She’s always been a bit of a drama queen, but it was ok, because it tended to take your mind off your own problems. Trouble is, now it’s getting out of hand, and we’ve let it slide for so long that it’s hard to tell her that she’s become totally unbelievable.


I had another friend who did the exact same thing, and it pretty much ended our friendship. You can’t go on talking to a person like that, because it’s hard to base a friendship on fairytales.

I think the downfall of that particular relationship was the phone call I received from her one evening. She seemed upset and I finally got it out of her that she thought she might be pregnant. I asked her if she had taken a test to be sure, and she then proceeded to tell me that she had been to the doctors, where the physician had prodded around on her stomach and told her that he was 99% sure that there was a dead baby in there!

That’s right, you read it correctly. Apparently this doctor poked her in the guts once or twice and told her, despite the fact that he hadn’t done any tests, despite the fact that she would only have been 2 months pregnant, despite the fact that the 2 month old foetus would only be the size of a peanut, that he could feel a dead baby in her stomach.

Slightly implausible wouldn’t you say?

She told the same story to my best friend the same day, and then we never heard anything about it again. She avoided the topic after that and I think she realised that her story was a little over the top because when we questioned her about it a little later on, she mumbled something about the doctor being wrong and then changed the subject pretty quickly.


I’m a little concerned that this other friend is going to end up going the same way. Well, not specifically the bizarre pregnancy way, but more that she is going to become so caught up in her exaggeration that she is going to become someone I don’t want to be around.
But how do you slip that into general conversation without upsetting someone?
“Hey I think everything you’ve just said is a BIG FAT LIE” probably won’t go down so well...

Things I have learnt so far

Things I have learnt so far today while searching for things to read and music to listen to:

• The Easybeats were an Australian band, therefore making Stevie Wright an Australian and Evie an awesome 11 minute Australian song.
• Daddy Cool – Also Australian
• The Masters Apprentices – Australian
• Dragon – Australian!

To summarise – I know a lot of great songs, but absolutely nothing about the artists and even less about Australian music.

Something for the Eyes and Ears

I was going to start this post with the sentence “I’m starting to get really desperate for new things to read and new music to listen to” but I thought it didn’t sound too great announcing my increasing desperation in my first sentence. Having said that, I can now say that I’m starting to get really desperate for new things to read and new music to listen to.

I subscribe to about 60 or so blogs that I read regularly. In my brief hiatus from stalking the internet while I was busy slaving over my wedding, it appears that about 50 of those 60 have either stopped blogging or are now blogging infrequently. This leaves me with a lot less reading material than I like.

I miss working in the city where I was only 60 seconds walk from the nearest second-hand book store. They were big stores too, with a lot of variety. The suburb where I live now is technically defined as a ‘rural’ area, so stores like that are a little hard to come by. We have 2 op-shops, but they’re pretty much useless unless you want to read Mills & Boon novels.

I need something to read!! Any and all book suggestions would be welcomed (excluding Mills & Boon novels of course).


On the music front – I lost all of the music on my iPod when it did something weird and had to be reset. I’m terrible with song and artist names, which means I’m spending a lot of time saying things like “you remember that song where the guy sings about the girl, only she’s not a girl and it’s kind of old and has something to do with coke, but not actually coke coz they changed it at the last minute to something else so they wouldn’t get in trouble from coca cola or whatever?”

I’ve decided that rather than rebuilding the same collection of songs on my ipod, I’m going to find some new music. Well, new to me anyway. I’m not sure where to start with this new music search, but as with the books, any and all suggestions are welcomed. I found this site which will suggest bands similar to whatever name I type in, so I guess I’ll start there.

I might stop my rant here, because I can sense already how dull this post is and I think it’s best kept to a minimum number of words. I might have to post again later when my brain can muster up something slightly more interesting – it’s been a very dull week.