An unexpected visitor in my bed

Not THAT type of visitor, get yer minds out of the gutter.


So. A long weekend just gone and I'll be honest, it was pretty crap. The weather, for a start, did not cooperate. It was rainy and windy and disgusting, and frankly i didn't want to leave the house. Jo was away in New Zealand for his birthday - by the way, Happy Birthday Jo! - and things weren't much better over there. Apart from the blistering cold, he had earthquakes and volcanic ash to deal with, so i suppose in comparison, my weekend was a piece of cake.


Still, there was some drama. Imagine my surprise when i heard a banging on the door at 4 in the morning. I thought i was dreaming actually, but the banging was incessant and i realised no, it was for reals. I went to the door and the long and the short of it was that someone needed to watch Jack for the rest of the night. And that someone was me.


"Err, should i come to your place...?" I asked, bleary-eyed and still somewhat confused.

"Oh no, don't worry. He's asleep. Just stick him in your bed."

"Err....OK...."


Before i had time to blink he was unceremoniously dumped in Jo's usual place, and I was lying awake in the dark coming to terms with the fact that i wouldn't be going back to sleep any time soon, no matter how desperately i wanted to.


And it wasn't because i was worried about squashing him, by the way. No no, i would have happily fallen back asleep if it wasn't for his CONSTANT MOVEMENT. Arms everywhere, legs kicking me, tossing and turning, and the coughing, MY GOD THE COUGHING. How he didn't wake himself up, I'll never know. Don't be fooled by this sweet face:

...because I'm telling you, the kid did NOT stop moving. Next thing i knew it was 7am and he was awake. He looked up and quickly realised he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Then he saw me - and started giggling.


"Am i really here?" was his first question, followed up with "Where's Jo sleeping?"


I confirmed he was, indeed, in my bed, and that we were having a sleep-over. Jo, thankfully, was back home with his mummy and daddy. Three in a bed just doesn't do it for me.


"Did my Mummy say I was allowed to be here?" he asked (concerned for himself, not for me by the way.)


"Oh yes, she said it was OK."


"Are you sure? Did she say it?" I had to laugh. What did he think, that i snuck over and plucked him from his bed to come spend the night?


"Of course I'm sure. Its totally fine."


He wanted to watch cartoons after that, "Together, you can be under the blankets with me," (oh, the generosity). I haven't watched kids cartoons in the morning for ages - obviously my preference is not to be awake before noon on the weekend - but let me tell you, they pump those ads towards the kiddies alright. Every single toy imaginable was advertised, and i endured countless rounds of "Can you buy me that? Can you buy me that?" And sometimes specifics like "I want the blue one not the red one."


I agreed to it all of course, with no intention of following through.

Apart from that excitement, and in between worrying about Jo not getting home from NZ due to Chilean volcanic ash (WHAT?) or being crushed in yet another Christchurch earthquake, I mainly stuck to the house. Maria and I decided we would make Jo a birthday cake (because if we made a cake, he surely had to make it home to eat it right?).


I wanted to lick the spoon, but Jack got to it first, little sneak.

It was a good thing we made the damn thing though, because he DID make it home in the end - thanks to Virgin, who still decided to fly, hurrah! I'm thrilled he didn't book his flights with Jetstar, or else he'd still be there. I must say, i feel awfully sorry for everyone still stuck waiting at the airport - especially if they have husbands or children they want to get home to, poor things.


In other news, i have a cold and I'm sick of the rain. Come back sunshine!! I miss you!!

Hello world, here's a song that we're singing...come on get happy....

Ohhh and how happy we were. A regular little Partridge family of singers. That's right folks - the unstoppable force that is Karaoke has struck again.


I blame our friend Ash. If it wasn't his birthday (how dare he have the audacity to be born), we would never have been out in the first place.


Since he was turning the grand young age of 30, we knew it had to be a good one - so after a few beers at our local after work, we headed to El Loco in Surry Hills for some Authentico Mexicano. We were relieved to see that margaritas and tequila shots were also on the menu, and this, combined with $5 tacos and the best damn fish sandwich on the Eastern seaboard, kept us in high spirits for some time. (Seriously, try this place out some time. Great food, great vibe!)


The only one who was a big fat downer was Turnsie, which is no surprise. Apparently the place was too "crowded" for him, and he wanted to "go home." SHAME ON YOU TURNSIE! BOO!! I want everyone to note, as we work out way through this little adventure, Turnsie's face in the photos. He looks completely plastered in every. single. one.


I mean. At least Lauren and I make a slow progression into indecency. Turnsie skips all that and hits 'embarrassing' within his first few drinks. Happily, the camera was ready to capture it all (BWAHAHAHAHAHA Turns!)

But things start off OK. We start with gentle drinks - designer beer, red wine, very civilised. Everyone's looking pretty good. Jo's still got his tie on. Not a silly face to be seen.

But this facade never lasts. After all, the night naturally progresses. Shots are had. Margaritas seem like a great idea. Look closely at the next two photos: there's only ONE person in both of them who can't keep his eyes open. (clue: his name starts with T and ends with Urnsie.)

And then...well. The next image speaks for itself. What can really be said except oh dear. Of course, Lauren and I are still looking fresh-faced, happy, ready to embrace the night. Turnsie, on the other hand, looks like he's about to vomit.

Things quickly go downhill after that. The boys decide they want to go to the retro, biggest dive in Sydney and therefore one of our favourite places. But the girls aren't in the mood - Lauren says she knows a Karaoke place nearby and I jump for joy. My voice is at its premium after a few drinks, so i was raring to go. And Lauren, sheesh. You practically have to ply the microphone from her hands just to get a turn. I'm surprised she doesn't carry one in her handbag. Turnsie wanted to come with us, but Jo wasn't having any of that...

Except Lauren wouldn't leave without a quick snap with the DJ. (or was that my idea? i really couldn't tell you.) It takes me three tries to get this picture, which i guess was a sign of things to come....

And then we were off! Off to Ding Dong Dang Karaoke Bar, and yes, that is its real name. We were lucky too, because there was only one booth left and it had our name all over it. Unfortunately, the place only sells Tooheys New in a can, but that's OK. By that point, we'd drink anything anyway. By the looks of it, i was very proud of my can(s) (haha).

Then things get blurry. I know that Lauren took charge of the music, and all our old favourites made the cut (Sweet Child of Mine, anyone?). I took great pleasure in hogging the mike, and as you can see, became the embodiment of a true star. I mean look at me. I could be Beyonce.

We had only paid for an hour, but it flew by was to quickly and we knew it wasn't enough. Even Kat, who we dragged kicking and screaming to the joint, insisted we go again. Our voices had warmed up and we were really showing up all the other groups. They had nothing on us.



So we pay for another hour and we're in the middle of setting up an Oasis medley when out of nowhere, WHO should appear???

Turnsie! Like a homing pigeon, he'd found his way back to us. Apparently he'd been "escorted" from the last place he was at with the boys, but the night wasn't over for him yet. It doesn't matter how drunk you are, Karaoke welcomes everyone into its warm embrace.

I was glad Turnsie was there, because he really gets into it. He's got moves I've never seen. Check this out! Not sure what it's called but this move is totally bitchin'!

I don't think we could have taken ANOTHER hour even if we wanted to, but we got our fix and that was the main thing. Who knows when the itch will take hold again, but until then - keep livin' on a prayer people. You know what I'm talking about.

Mish mash

Been reading...

The Civilised World, by Susi Wyss: This was a short, very moving read. It tells the story if several women - black and white - living in Africa, who's lives intersect over the course of time and the novel. At the heart of the story is Adjoa, who dreams of opening a beauty parlour and who must also come to terms with a terrible loss. I loved Adjoa because she was so real in her uncertainty - actually, all the characters were written with such realism, which is why i think such a small book ended up having so much impact. Plus, Wyss writes so beautifully, with such gentleness, that it takes no effort at all to read it in just a few sittings. Whether she's writing about the African landscape or the emotional inner turmoil of the women, she is pitch-perfect every time. Definitely recommended.



The Likeness, by Tana French: There's no doubt French is a talented writer. The Likeness is part mystery, part thriller, but its the atmosphere she creates that keeps you reading. Her characters are so well-rounded and have such depth, and her writing has a literary feel that's not typical of most mysteries, so i really enjoyed this one. The premise of the novel is simple, although you may have to suspend your disbelief temporarily - Cassie, a young detective, is called to a murder scene where she discovers she is the splitting image of the victim. I won't spoil the rest, but i do recommend it if you like mysteries with a psychological twist.


Been eating...


Orto Trading Co, Surry Hills: This place is CUTE! It's not on a main street, so we had to do a bit of looking to find it, but it seemed to be a really popular neighbourhood choice - we got there at 6pm and it was packed by 7. I could see why - it was cosy, the service was excellent and the food was really yummy. I loved the glass bottles hanging over the bar with flowers in them, and the white furniture and the candles, and i loved the free truffled popcorn we got at the start....

I had their signature pumpkin pockets to start, and then we shared a beef and Guinness stew with Yorkshire pudding and chilli-spiced potatoes - which was bloody delicious. The meat just melted in your mouth, and the potatoes was so yummy - it was the perfect wintery meal. Check it out if you have a chance.

Bruschetteria 102, Surry Hills: This is probably my new favourite place for lunch - I've already been three times and i don't see myself stopping. The first time, i dragged my old friend Turnsie along, and i was pleased that he enjoyed it as well. As you can probably tell by the name, 90% of their menu is made up of different types of bruschetta, and it. is. delicious. There's at least 12 different types, but my favourite has to be the Ragu, which is basically beef ragu with parmesan cheese on top of crusty bread, and the Alpina, which has cheese, pear and walnuts - divine. Although you probably have to be like me and like sweet and savoury flavours together to enjoy that one.



The place is really sweet-looking too, with mismatched furniture and crockery - and everything is for sale, which means the decor is constantly changing as someone buys a piece. One more thing it has going for it - NUTELLA COFFEE!!!! People, it's revolutionary. Just a spoonful of nutella in your coffee, and the flavour completely changes - it has this subtle, hazlenutty taste and its SO GOOD. That alone is worth the visit. Luckily, its only about 10 minutes from work - which could be a good or bad thing, depending on how fat i want to get after all that bread....

Been watching...


The Hangover II: OK, so it wasn't as good as the first one, but it was still pretty darn funny. My favourite character has always been Stu, and he was a ridiculous as ever in part two. This time it's him getting married, in Thailand. Aside from the location, the plot is basically exactly the same as the first - they get completely wasted, lose a member of their party and spend the rest of the movie re-tracing their steps to try and find him before the wedding takes place. Actually with some of the jokes they almost take the gross-factor up a notch. If you liked the first, I'm pretty sure you'll like the second - just don't go in with expectations that it'll be as good as the original.




YouTube: Seriously, there's some weird crap out there. And its addictive. A girlfriend and I spent three hours on Saturday night trawling through the best of the best, one bottle of wine at a time. Our favourites? In no particular order:

• Watching a bot fly-turn-maggot being extracted from human flesh
• Maru the box-loving kitty
• Dramatic Stare (chipmunk edition - just watch it)
• American Idols worst auditions

And there you have it! That's what i've been up to. Basically.

Your haircut cost HOW much?!

I recently got a haircut.


This is a big deal for two reasons:

1. I haven't chopped my hair off for about 10 years. And actually, its never been this short. But i felt like i needed a change, and lets face it, washing long hair on a cold winters morning really sucks.
2. I tried a new hairdresser. Even though its been a long time since i lived out in the burbs with my parents, i STILL go back there to get my hair done, just as i have been for the last 15 years. Why? Because its CHEAP. A cut, colour and blow dry for my long, long hair cost me $80, which i spent maybe every 4 months or so because I'm lazy.

Insert tangent, as i ask - why do some women love going to the hairdresser?? I HATE IT! It's a chore - i have to sit there for 2 hours in an uncomfortable chair and make stupid small talk with someone i don't know but who's pretending to know me. Where's the pleasure-factor? Its not like you're at a spa getting a massage. Maybe it's because i get bored too quickly. I can think of so many other things I'd rather be doing. And reading a Woman's Day from 1997 isn't one of them.




But back to my story. I decided it was becoming a pain to go so far away every time i wanted a haircut. Plus, Maria's been raving about her hairdresser for ages. So she made me an appointment, and off i went.




And, i had to admit, things looked good. The girls were very attentive. They served proper coffee and chilled water. I was supplied with current magazines. My head massage at the basin was superb, AND the chairs vibrated - in a totally cool, lower-back-relaxing way. My hairdresser was lovely, just the right amount of chatty, and she did a great job with my hair. She didn't torture me by prolonging the cutting - in fact, she cut half of it off in one go: "Ready! Say bye bye!" and chop! The end result looked great - shorter, neater, and with really pretty highlights. I was impressed!




Then i went to pay.




Now, maybe I'm naive. Maybe all these years I've been getting a great deal out west and i just didn't realise how much a haircut and colour cost out in the real world. But when she told me how much it cost, my jaw actually dropped. The poor girl had the decency to look sheepish when i recovered and blurted "Pardon?" Alas, i had not misheard. I'm so appalled that i don't even want to tell you how much it was, but the first number started with THREE. That's right. THREE.




WTF????




Despite the fact that i loved my new hair, i was outraged! Surely, i thought, this wasn't normal. So i polled a few of my friends. And i was shocked to discover that it wasn't as uncommon as i thought! Several of them said they had paid similar prices for their hair before, though not on a regular basis. In fact, they said, most upmarket salons in what i suppose you could call "well-to-do" areas would definitely charge that much, depending on what "work" you have done to you hair. (Work? JUST CUT IT!!)




So, there you go. I guess times have changed. And i ain't even that old. Here i am, post-cut. You can't really see the highlights or anything in this picture, but still - after what i paid, i have to show SOMETHING off.

Some pre-wedding festivities with my gal-pal

Once upon a time, there were two best friends who spent 15 years:

• consoling each other through break-ups and bad hangovers (note: it was usually me with the bad hangover)
• cheering on important achievements like successful first dates or cooking ventures
• steeling each others nerves for job interviews or exams
• learning the lines of our favourite movies in order to quote them for our amusement at a later date (Home Alone people. Watch it.)
• discussing the merits of Sex and the City, and further, how what we learn in Sex and the City can be applied to our actual, everyday lives
• calming each others ridiculous, borderline-psychotic anxieties via hurried and exasperated phone calls at work
• giving each other a good telling-off when the other goes off the rails (note: more often than you think.)
  
  

After all that drama, there was no way in the world my best friend Leah was going to miss her chance to be maid of honour at our wedding, despite moving thousands and thousands of miles away to London. Alas, she was absent for a lot of the planning (don't think she missed my bridal tantrums though - thank you, Skype) but she came back home two weeks before the big day armed with a truckload of festivities to help make our limited time together extra special.

I'll be honest. In the week before the wedding, i was stressed. Even though i told myself I'd take everything in my stride - i didn't. Sorry. I mean i don't think i turned into a bridezilla or anything, but i couldn't stop myself from worrying about...well, everything, although the torrential rain that week was a particular source of despair.

The remedy according to Leah? High tea and cocktails. Damn smart girl. So we took ourselves, our mothers, and my other favourite people - Maria and Jack - to the delightful Observatory Hotel for afternoon tea to celebrate...me! The bride! Woohoo! (Those were the days...) I've had a lot of high teas in Sydney, but i still say the Observatory does it the best. 

Here we are, dressed the part and looking totally and utterly relaxed thanks to the complimentary champagne. Now that i know the pain of paying for a wedding, I'm no longer ashamed to say that I LOVE FREE STUFF!

The Observatory Hotel has all sorts of weird and wonderful teas. I think i had white jasmine. Then again i could be completely making that up.

Jack passed on the tea and champagne, but he did enjoy a vanilla milkshake. The message in his eyes here is very clear: "This is all mine. Back off."

My page boy and I. Too bad he wasn't so gorgeous on the day, but that's another story.

My mum could not be persuaded to give up her champagne to the bride to be. Luckily, i am just as selfish when it comes to bubbly - they call that being a chip off the old block.

I wasn't as drunk as i wanted to be after high tea, so our next stop was the Blu Bar at the Shang-ri-la Hotel in the Rocks. It has quite the view of Sydney, something Leah had missed after a year of being away. As for me - well. I'm neither here nor there about views. Just pass me the cocktail list.



Even our mum's got in on the act, knocking back not one but TWO cocktails EACH. I know. Pick your jaws up off the floor, readers.

Meanwhile, Leah and I were in our element with cosmopolitans and olives and fetta cheese. These ARE a few of my favourite things.

It felt GREAT to eat, drink and be merry with someone i had really missed in the last year. It wouldn't have been the same without her with me on the day, but more than that, it was so nice to have some time to catch up and do what we've spent 15 years doing over and over again - discussing our lives to death. Would we have it any other way?



I'm writing this from home, sick and miserable on the couch, but seeing these pictures have cheered me up no end so I'll leave you with one of my favourites of me and Jack from the day. CUTE RIGHT!!!???

The culinary palate of a three year old

On Sunday, we played parents and babysat Jack.

 

 

Actually, it was a last minute thing. And I'd already promised my stomach brunch. Since I'm not one to let a small, stubborn child spoil my breakfast plans, I decided we'd just go ahead and take the kid with us. In fact, i totally got into the urban-mom thing. Here i am, decked out with the ultimate accessory - a red pram. I look cool right? But here's the thing - pushing a pram around Crows Nest is not as fun as the other mummy's make it look. Actually, its friggen hard work. I spent most of our walk pleading with Jo to swap places. "What if you just push it up this hill? Huh? Then I'll take over again, I SWEAR!"

 

 

 

Our destination was St Malo Bakery in Crows Nest, which is one of my favourite places to eat around here. I left Jo to deal with the pram (I mean shouldn't they have parking bays, like every other method of transportation in this city?????) while i took orders.

"Jack, what do you want to eat?"

He looks at the menu, as if he can actually read the choices available, before announcing (with some authority): "I want a brioche with jam and butter."

A brioche? Really?

Jo cuts in. "What's a brioche?" I realise my three year old Godson has a more advanced palate than my husband.

"I don't think they have brioches here." I say.

But Jack remains unperturbed. "Then I'll have a croissant. With jam and butter."

I ask him if he wants some juice, which he does. "What flavour?"

"Blood orange flavour."

Jo nearly falls off his chair. Brioche, croissant, blood orange juice? What can I say, the kid should have been born in France.

Here's the boys, enjoying their food...

And here's Jack enjoying his Jam, which he prefers to eat straight. No pastry necessary. Although he offered to share half of his croissant with Jo, he claimed full rights to all condiments.

 

 

 

The kid and me. We love each other really.

The (second) most anticipated wedding of the year...

...the first, of course, being...my own. Which was equally fabulous. But enough about me. Unless you've been living under a rock the last couple of weeks you'd know that Prince William, the most eligible Prince of recent times, married a commoner on Friday. What? No! I meant Kate Middleton. Slip of the tongue. Anyway, no doubt Grandma is very proud.






Being the Royal enthusiasts that we are, Maria and I decided we simply had to host a party in honour of the happy couple. Lucky for us Aussies, the wedding was streamed live from London, beginning 8pm Oz-time - a very respectable hour indeed. Perfect for popping the champagne and getting our drinking game on. But more on that later.







As i said, Maria and I love all things royal, especially royal weddings. We watched the wedding of Princess Mary to Prince Frederick of Denmark live all those years ago. (Another nobody who bagged herself a Prince! What the!? Am i hanging out at the wrong bars?!)




(What's that? Jo? Jo who?)




Now i know there are many Australians out there who believe we should become a republic, and I'm going to be controversial here and say that i really don't care either way. I don't think our daily lives will be particularly affected, no matter what happens, so a part of me thinks if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Really, i just find the history, the pomp, the tradition, (the scandal), all very fascinating. As for the rest, I'm neither here nor there.





But back to our favourite couple, Wills and Kate. Ah, what a love story. He in all his Princely glory and she in all her nothingness - but what stylish nothingness! A word on this - I've heard a lot of people say she doesn't take enough risks in fashion, but I say she's all class. I've never seen her wear something she looks bad in, and people - sometimes less is more. It works. I'm glad she's not too eccentric in the way she dresses. She's just normal. And i especially love that she shops in high street stores like all the other plebs. Hopefully she doesn't forget her roots. (I know. Doubt it.)




Here they are, looking radiant, despite William's obviously deteriorating hair follicles. Another controversial observation from me - Wills was in his prime maybe 5 years ago. But those days are over. The truth of the matter is, that hair ain't never growing back. We hoped he'd be Diana incarnate, but alas, Charles' genes have dominated. And won. I'd take Harry any day of the week. I know, he looked very handsome in the whole red suit get-up, but the fact remains - he looked better with the hat on. That is, when you couldn't really see his face. ANYWAY, i digress again! The happy couple:











Wait, one more point on Wills - he has decided he is above wearing a wedding ring. FYI Will, the entire world knows your married now, so who ya trying to fool huh? I read its because he doesn't like jewelery, and i suppose being a Prince he can do whatever he wants, but still. He could have given it a go at least.






And here are your hosts for the evening! Meanwhile, check out those blinds in the background. See those little pieces of paper pegged on there? Oh yeah. Kate and Wills pics. Courtesy of me, and the colour printer at work. (A flourishing career in party planning awaits. Am i right?)

And here's a sample of what we served. Homemade tea cake (Maria's baby, not mine), and scones presided over by HRH herself.

But don't let the scones deceive you into thinking this was a posh affair. It started off OK - people milling about being polite and so on...

...but then we passed around the rules to our Royal Wedding Drinking Game, and. Well. You can only guess how things went. The rules included, but were certainly not limited to, the following:

• Take a drink if the Queen is on screen




• If the commentator mentions Diana, take three drinks




• Any time parallels are drawn to the Diana/Charles wedding, take three drinks




• Last person to shout 'Candle in the Wind' if Elton John is on screen must take 5 drinks

Etc etc. Needless to say, we all became highly opinionated on the proceedings, but there was one thing we all agreed on - those reindeer antlers worn by Beatrice were completely and utterly hideous. WHAT, I ask you, was she THINKING?? The rest of the outfit was...OK. I mean it wasn't great, mind you. But those antlers. Honestly. And her sister Eugenie - can i ask who allowed her to leave the house in that horrible blue thing? The two sisters took out worst-dressed for me. Google their outfits. You'll see what i mean.





Also, I'm not sure if this is the fashion in the UK, but it seemed a lot of ladies worse their fascinaters right on their foreheads. Which is just weird. Posh Spice, for example - yes, she'll always be Posh Spice to me - wore some sort of mini-bowler-hat creation, and it sat practically between her eyeballs. I know she's pregnant with her gazillianth child, but that's no excuse.

So the champagne flowed, and we cooed over Wills and Kate and their little whispers and smiles and general air of happiness, and how pretty London looked all dressed up with the flags and the bunting, and how she said "Oh wow" when she first walked out on the balcony, and how they kissed twice, and how the Queen wasted no time in ushering everyone back inside after two seconds because she's a cranky old nanna...I mean see? See how happy everyone looks? (Except Turnsie, who never looks happy.) (This is his "Lord of the Manor" face by the way.) (???)

To really get the party going, we took photos of Turnsies ears. Here's one of them, in case you felt like checking out something really disgusting today.

What i'm trying to say is, the party was a hit (no surprises there because we're the hostesses with the mostesses. By that, i mean we keep champagne popped and flowing at all times.) I wish i could have been in London for the occasion, but alas, it wasn't to be. Hopefully Harry will come through for me in the next few years (little ginger scoundral that he is.)

All thats left to say is...God Bless America!

I mean.

God Bless the Queen! Yeah. That's the right one...