The holiday coma

There is something icky about waking up to someone bashing on your front door, wanting to get in and remove window screens. And you feel even worse when you look at the clock and realise that all of this is happening at 3pm on a Thursday. Um, where did the time go? And HOW ON EARTH did I sleep so long?!

The sad thing is, I actually know the answer to both of those questions. And the answer is: SHOTS. Yes friends, I ignored every ounce of common sense in my body the other night and slammed two shots with Jems and our fellow barfly friends. Ugh. It was pretty messy (for me particularly) and we ended up removing ourselves from the bar when it closed at 4am.

In a twisted way, we both felt pretty cool for having such amazing staying power. The night actually started at 8pm at Marche, a gorgeous French restaurant in the West Loop which was celebrating its 15th Anniversary party that night. Burlesque dancers, cocktails, the whole bit. But we didn't stay very long because there were way too many people, and way too few appetiser trays.

Jumping in a cab, we flew to Old Town and had a quick pasta dinner at Topogigio - a place that me and Dr G have come to love. Our favourite bartender wasn't working, and the Obama/McCain debate was screening outside, so we sat inside instead. The pasta we scoffed was delicious, ditto the chocolate gelato and the limoncello digestif.

Ugh and then it seemed going to the Boystown bar was a good idea. Enough said...

But this morning we have emerged at a reasonable hour and actually have a full day of activities ahead. We're walking up to Wrigley Field, then brunch on Southport, then a walk through the neighbourhood before a pizza dinner tonight with Lex. And no shots. No matter how good the idea seems at the time.

Be silent, be still

Chicago gave us such beautiful weather over the long weekend, it seems doubly unjust that it has now snatched it away again, leaving us with cool breezes and overcast skies. Still, that has been ideal weather for laying very still and recuperating after the late nights and early mornings of the last few days.

As it was yesterday I had to go into work for a few hours and then when I got home, I crashed on the sofa and slept until "The Simpsons" came on. I must have needed that sleep - and then some - because I had no trouble sleeping again when I went to bed that night. And given that Jems has not been feeling 100% anyway, all that fatigue went double for her.

The other night we went to see a screening of "Role Models" and met the star of the movie, Paul Rudd. In the manner of Troy McClure, you may remember Paul Rudd from such roles as Josh in "Clueless" or George in "Object of My Affection", or (as he reminded all of us in jest), his 15-episode stint as Phoebe's boyfriend on "Friends". And yes he really IS ultra good looking in real life. And he obligingly took photos with all the fans after the film, including me and Jems. Wahoo. So hot.

Today is a bit of a slower day and I'm not quite sure what we're planning to do. I wanted to go for a walk up to Wrigley Field and then around the neighbourhood but I guess we could do that any day really. A downtown restaurant is having its 15th anniversary with a special dinner tonight so maybe we'll call in and celebrate that; but again, I'm not sure. I guess this is the beauty of holidays, right? No real plans - and that just means that the adventures could go in any direction. I had better take the camera...

Chop Chop in Chi-town

night view
Originally uploaded by koyochi.

Jems has been sleeping off her cold and jetlag the last couple of days, which left me and Kate alone with the shops on Broadway. Big mistake.

Yesterday we wandered into an artisinal cheese shop that I had always known was there but never been to, and we walked out with the stinkiest French cheeses you've ever smelled. I can't wait to devour it today because as everybody knows, the smellier the cheese, the tastier it is. And of course if we leave it in my fridge any longer, I'm going to have to move house to get away from the smell.

We had some down-time in the afternoon to watch "Sex and the City" (can you believe neither Kate nor I had watched it before?!) and then it was off to dinner at the Chicago Chop House - we all loved it. Jem's steak was as big as her head (and that's pretty big!). She didn't eat all of it but she gave it a really good shot. I think it was the prosciutto-wrapped asparagus that she had for starters that did her in. Mmm so delicious. I had a 10 oz. filet mignon and it was cooked to perfection. K's steak was enormous and there was no way she was going to finish it. So we wrapped up the leftovers and walked to a champagne bar, a few blocks from the restaurant.

I've loved Pops for Champagne for a long time and the girls enjoyed it too. By the time we got there it was after 11pm so not too many people were around. Still, the service was a little slow but we got what we needed in the end. The barman created Jems a champagne cocktail that wasn't on the menu and she really enjoyed it.

Because NoMi was closed for the night we jumped in a cab bound for Boystown and ended up at "Cocktail" to watch the very straight (but not very dressed) male dancers shake their money makers up on stage. On the walk home from Halsted we realised that I had left our steaks on the windowsill at the champagne bar. That hadn't occurred to any of us until then - classic. I am sure the cleaners have discovered worse surprises, but still...

And so today is Columbus Day, a holiday here in the US. We are sitting around in our pyjamas watching very bad TV - and none of us are all that hungry after a really great night out in Chicago.

The storm before the calm

The last couple of days have been a blur of frenetic activity. Cyclone Jems hit Chicago (very) late Wednesday night and it's been non-stop ever since.

Jem's plane got in at 11.05pm and I went out to O'Hare to greet her. I could hardly sit still. I was so eager to see her that I got to the Arrivals lounge exceptionally early so the only thing to do was buy a Starbucks - clearly not the best thing for my nervous excitement. I got talking to some ladies from Bermuda who had just arrived and were waiting for their hotel transfer bus to collect them. We had a good chat, all very civil, and then as they left one of them pressed a little pamphlet into my hand and urged me to read it when she was gone. Yes, she was a Bible freak. Always the ones you least suspect.

So Jems arrived, looking remarkably good for someone who had just spent 30 hours traveling the globe, working her way through customs, airport terminals, different airlines, different timezones, and screaming babies all suspended 30,000 feet in the air (which is EXACTLY where I usually like to send screaming babies). I convinced her that now that she was on MY turf, she could relax - no need to pay attention - just identify your luggage and follow me the rest of the way. I took her on the Blue Line as close to my house as we could get, and then we caught a cab the rest of the way. By the time we got back to my place and settled in for the night, there wasn't much night left -it was almost 2.30am. Getting up for work the next day was vicious.

While Jems snoozed away her jetlag and nursed a nasty cold back at home, I was stuck at work trying to get a bunch of stuff done before I could start my own holiday. To cut a long story short, I didn't get it ALL done - but I have come away from the office feeling quietly confident that the wheels will turn well enough in my absence, and I haven't left too much hanging for my colleagues to sort out.

Jems has scored a great new job back home and I was looking for a way to congratulate her on the exciting accomplishment. I needed look no further than "Dirty Dancing", the new Chicago theatre experience that actually had its world premiere in Australia. Indeed the show's producer is Australian, as is much of the cast & crew, including the guy who plays Johnny Castle - the role made famous by Patrick Swayze.

When I told Jems about the theatre tickets I'd bought her as a promotion celebration, she was pretty pleased, to say the least. We have been fans of that movie probably ever since it came out (and that's probably true actually, since the movie just celebrated its 20th Anniversary). I'm not sure if you would enjoy the theatre show if you didn't have a love affair with the movie. It's almost word-for-word accurate, and you can tell who the true fans are around the theatre. People at our performance last night were singing along, and everyone applauded when Johnny announced that "nobody puts Baby in a corner". Iconic line, and an appropriate crowd response. I think the actors even got a kick out of it. And the lift at the end during "I've Had The Time of My Life"? It brought the house down - easily the highlight of the show. But isn't it always?

So this weekend is the Chicago Marathon and for residents and tourists alike, Chicago has turned on some gorgeous weather. Katie is coming into town (last-minute decision to make use of some frequent flyer points) and we're all together until Tuesday morning. It's going to a whirlwind of Cyclone Jems and Hurricane Kate but I would not have this one any other way.

More news to come...

BYO-ing the Ultimate Icebreaker

I agreed to accompany Lex to an engagement party last night. I had met the bride-to-be at a very dark and noisy bar about 2 months ago but I'd never met the groom before. But Lex told me all she knew about them, and so I knew it would be okay.

A few days before the party, Lex casually mentioned that she would be baking some cookies to take to the party. Um, hang on - what? So I shelved the mental image of cocktail dresses and champagne toasts (the usual engagement party idea), and instead probed a little further about just what kind of party I'd agreed to go to.

Turns out the happy couple had invited a bunch of people around for a party in their backyard - no muss, no fuss, and instead of engagement gifts, it was a total BYO experience. Okay, totally not your stock-standard engagement party - but nevertheless a good idea. To be appropriate for the overall occasion, I did wear a cute red dress, heels, and chandelier earrings, but nothing more froufrou than that.

With my outfit worked out, thoughts turned to what BYO contribution I could make. Flashbacks to my last home-baked experience came into my head. The incident also known as "Flaming ANZAC Biscuits Being Thrown Off The Back Porch in 2007" made me break out in a cold sweat. Baking is just not my bag, baby.

I decided not to take anything to the party, which in itself isn't even like me. I would normally bring a packet of chips or a bottle of wine or something. But on this occasion I totally wimped out. Terrible, no?!

And so Saturday night rolled around and I filled up on a huge dinner at home, had a couple of beers with Lex at some bars en route to the party, and figured I'd just steal a beer from the happy couple's fridge and not worry about eating anything when I got to their house. Yep, I was going to this BYO party as a complete freeloader.

In retrospect I should have at least attempted to cover this up by asking Lex if I could carry her home-made cookies into the party, to at least give the appearance that I was contributing something. But admittedly that thought didn't occur to me at the time and now that I think about it, it sounds a little desperate. So I'm glad that I did the next best thing.

I broke the ice with total strangers by being Lex's one-woman PR machine. I talked up those home-made cookies like I was on the Home Shopping Network! And total strangers began making a beeline for the kitchen to seek out these white chocolate & pecan cookies with just a touch of pumpkin spice thrown in for good measure. And they were not disappointed at all - Lex, and the cookies, were an utter hit!

And no one even noticed that I was stealing beers from the fridge.

Yep, it's a funny one alright

Burn After Reading Movie Photos (16)
Originally uploaded by divxplanet.

I discovered last night that, at times, I am so far removed from reality that it's almost funny.

Because last night me and Lex went to the movies to see "Burn After Reading". And after nearly three years of going to free movie screenings together, we actually had to pay for these tickets. We had no idea that movie tickets are $10.50 each - what's up with that?! See, I have been so spoiled that I'm actually shocked by this.

But hey, we wanted to see the latest offering from the Cohen brothers, that we coughed up the cash relatively easily and we both really enjoyed the show. Typical Cohen Brothers stuff - right down to the ending, where the characters tell you what happened, rather than show you, but parts of it were really quirky and clever.

Then it was up early for me today, off to read 3 lines in the recording booth, which took about 5 minutes max. I swear, if I could make a living doing voice-overs, I absolutely would. It's relatively easy work (in terms of sitting still and just getting paid to talk), but sometimes it can be hard too. For instance, just how am I supposed to make the word "operator" sound warm?! I just don't get it. But I must have done something right, because I collected another healthy payslip at the end of it all. Niiiiice.

Lost in (cyber)space

I'll admit that my lack of blogging lately has, in large part, been due to a lack of anything to report.

I was going to write a bumper post about the Labor Day holiday and how Hurricane Gustav ruined my attempt to get to New Orleans with Katie. I was going to regale you with how that actually turned out to be a GOOD thing, because Katie came to Chi-town instead and we had a blast. But once the dust settled after that crazy long weekend, I figured that catching up on sleep was way better than telling tales.

Then I was going to tell you about how my sister announced her plans to come and see me for 3 weeks next month. But a lot of the plans I'm making for that are a surprise and because she reads this blog, I'm hardly going to spill the beans here. So that will have to stay a state secret too.

So all that's left is for me to tell you about the movie premiere I went to last night, called "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" starring the always-adorable Michael Cera from TV's Arrested Development (aka Lexie's future husband - although if Jason Bateman stepped forward and wanted to marry her too, she' d have some tough decisions to make). But you know what? Given that I have to leave the office now for a work event, you'll just have to accept my short-short summation & general overview that says that the movie is really good - and Michael Cera was adorable in person (as always). But for my way of thinking, audience Q&A after a film screening sucks the big one. Audience members should be screened beforehand and made to achieve at least a minimum intelligence level -or at least demonstrate some evidence of a personality (of any kind - 'multiple' would be a bonus). The people that posed the questions last night were absolute morons. I wanted to ask for the microphone just so I could look like I had a question - but really I wanted to run around the cinema and smack every other question-asking moron upside the head for being so dumb. Very Stewie in "Family Guy" of me, but hey - it's been one of those weeks.

D'oh!

GOOD GRIEF! (Tai Shan June 4, 2006)
Originally uploaded by dcmandrill.

You know how I had this fake boyfriend story going with the checkout chick at the local supermarket? Well today I felt brave enough to nip the melodrama in the bud and announce that we had broken up. No "Ben and Jerry's", no sobbing, just a straight-shooting, old fashioned 'we're not together anymore statement. One white lie to shroud the other.

So I get to the register and he asks (again), "how's your baby doin'?" and I clear my throat and declare very matter-of-factly, "oh, we're not together anymore.". He looks shocked.

"Yes," I continue, "he left and moved to Manhattan,". Brilliant.

He looks concerned and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Oh you poor thing. So what is it, a bitter custody battle?".

What?!

"He must miss being with his mamma", says he.

What?!

Okay so great - now I am not only a single woman, I'm a single mother - whose child has just relocated to Manhattan to live with his father.

I just wanted to curl up and die.

Why does even my fantasy life have to be so complicated?!

What would Picasso have seen?

palette
Originally uploaded by uteart.

I had my apartment painted yesterday and even though the entry way wasn't done (the black smudges on the wall gave that away), the rest of the place looks pretty good. I'm not sophisticated enough to identify whether my walls are now white, off-white, ivory, eggshell or whatever - so let's just say that the apartment is now just a lot brighter and cleaner-looking.

Speaking of cleaning, I was a sweeping/mopping/dusting demon this morning to put all my furniture back where it is supposed to be. My muscles are already aching - tomorrow is not likely to be pretty.

The biggest tragedy of last night was the fact that I was in an absolute rush to go and meet Courts for dinner, and so I was putting my shower rod back up and the stupid thing snapped, fell down, and cut up my foot. Until that happened, I didn't know that such colourful swear words were lying dormant inside of me. Sailors everywhere around the world would have blushed at the words pouring out of my mouth!

So today I have to go to the hardware store and buy a shower rod. I don't think I've ever even wandered into the shower rod department of any store in my life. There had better only be 2 choices or I am in big trouble.

And the shower rod isn't the only drama now that my apartment is fresh and clean. Up till now, I had been using the excuse of unpainted walls to delay having to decorate - I can't stand that creative process crap. And try as hard I can to subscribe to Mero's "Japanese Minimalist" style, it really isn't mine.

So what's a girl to do?!

No, YOU hang up first

come hither
Originally uploaded by *Chico.

I must have had a great day yesterday and an even better sleep last night because today, I was a proper ratbag. I flirted with everyone and as I said to a friend of mine, I spoke to one Aussie businessman today and I almost HEARD him blush through the phone - it was classic.

It was a fairly busy day too so by rights, I should have been a snapping turtle but nope, today I was just coasting along and trying to be cool. The pushy German woman on my bus still got the death glare, but everyone else was on Easy Street with me today.

I came home from work to find my loaf of bread had gone mouldy in my cupboard, but even that couldn't get me down. I just turfed it and burrowed in the back of the freezer for the traditional English crumpets that I knew were lurking in there somewhere.

Don't worry - I am sure I will return you to your regularly scheduled programming soon. But until then, I'm off to bat my eyelids at somebody else. Now who should it be?!

Another year, and a family affair

It's not always easy to be away from home, and birthdays seem to just emphasise that fact all the more. But this year, on the occasion of my 31st year on this earth, I've got good reason to feel pretty darn happy with my lot in life.

I spent Saturday with Dr G because I'd told her that we would be celebrating my UNbirthday this year. Given that my actual birthday was today (Aug 18), there didn't seem to be any point getting excited about things on Saturday. So we agreed I would come to her place and watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's" (the fave movie that we share) and drink French champagne. It was blissful. She'd bought me a cupcake from one of our favourite brunch places - I was in heaven. It was exactly what I felt like doing on my Saturday and she was perfect company.

So on rolled Saturday night and I've already updated you on the dinner & drinks antics with Lex, so you know how that went down. Well on Sunday night, after a day spent in the sunshine at Lake Michigan softball field/oval/court/area with Mero & Boston's Mum, I was supposed to meet up with L&D for slushies at Sidetracks (the scene of last year's debauchery), but L got sick - and didn't tell me until I was already at the the bar by myself - so I had to make the best of things. I befriended a beautiful African American guy who confided that his name was "Cashmere....like the fabric". I wanted to squeeze him tight - I defy any straight man to know that Cashmere is even a fabric. Sigh. Gay men are so beautiful. So I partied like a rock star with my new fabric-friend, and got to catch up with the adorable "Mr Wyoming", who is actually a gorgeous periodontist with rock-hard abs and an all-round body to die for. Last I saw him, he had his hand wedged down my top (did he leave his keys down there?!). Needless to say he was rather embarassed and spent the first 90 seconds apologising to me profusely, and then the next three hours buying us both tequila shots. NOT a good idea for a Sunday night, let me tell you.

And today rolled around and I felt like ass at work today - bloodshot eyes, the whole shebang. It was not pretty. Fortunately I chugged Diet Coke in the morning, and had a nutella croissant (the best invention since migraine pills), and I tried to pretend my kidneys weren't packing up.

I got to speak to my parents & sister (crazy chat) and then my aunt called and we taked for about 40 minutes (too bad about work), and I couldn't have asked for a better start to my day, all things considered. 4pm saw the delivery of some embarassaingly large helium balloons from Katie - who wanted to surprise me (and she did). I was really touched - it was such a lovely gesture. It rounded out my day beautifully.

Tonight I had dinner with lovely Biggsy, who bought me a couple of margaritas and a crazy big burrito - it was amazing. The wait staff at the restaurant even bought me a dessert and sang to me which was mortfiying (but the dessert was delicious). We then went up to a bar in Boystown and had a quick drink outside- it was really great. I loved hanging out with him.

So you see that for a 31st birthday, when I might otherwise be transfixed by new wrinkles or boyfriends/kids that I don't have, I am instead marvelling at what an amazing day I did have - and what a wonderful family I have - both here and abroad. Sigh - it was a really great day.

It's a sign, right?

Mon Ami Gabi Entrance
Originally uploaded by disneymike.

I invited Lex to join me for an un-birthday dinner last night. For those unfamiliar with Alice in Wonderland, an un-birthday is what you celebrate when it's not your actual birthday (or in my case, when you're denying that it IS your birthday).

Anyway I chose "Mon Ami Gabi", for the obvious reason, but also because I have known about it here in Chicago but have not yet been. The place is a small chain actually, and I remember seeing the restaurant in Vegas though me and JK didn't call in there at the time either.

Given that Lex is in 2 weddings coming up, and has some killer new black shoes she wanted to stretch a bit, we decided to 'frock up' for dinner last night. I wore a black, belted cocktail dress (and then realised on the way out the door that I hadn't worn the dress since my last birthday!). Lex had a gorgeous strapless dress on and the shoes complemented it beautifully.

So we had a delicious dinner - scallops for Lex & steak frites for me, and then both of us had (actually HAD to have) the creme brulee for dessert and we were not disappointed. The food was delicious and the portions were huge. The restaurant was fairly crowded and we were easily the most over-dressed in there, but we didn't mind.

Then we walked to a cute winebar nearby (needed to stretch after that meal, let me tell you!) and then on to a dive bar not far away for a few farewell drinks for Lex's room mate who is off to live in the Bay Area this week.

I was home by 1am and felt like I'd had a really good night - I don't mind celebrating my un-birthday actually. It has all the ingredients of a real birthday and none of the pressure. No cakes, no singing, no candles, no nothing - it's wonderful!

A meal and that's all

Spaghetti in Tomato Cream Sauce
Originally uploaded by disneymike.

I am not accustomed to the kindness of strangers so it came as somewhat of a surprise to me that two older guys wanted to buy me and Dr G dinner tonight. We had turned up at Topo after our wine class, in search of a basic pasta for me and a robust red wine for the pair of us.

What we hadn't counted on was meeting two very debonaire gentlemen who decided that they would stay on, dine with us, and watch the Olympic swimming. All in all, it was a great night.

But when they didn't accept my financial contribution to the evening I felt rather unsettled. I was not only trying to be polite, but I was trying to pay my own way for the night and they weren't having a bar of it. One of the kind men owns a construction company that builds public schools in Chicago, and the other guy knows a bunch of rich people (thought I didn't quite catch what he does himself). Needless to say, I didn't want either man thinking I was a freeloader, but I needn't have bothered. Neither of them wanted my cash and were quite adamant that my drinks and my meal were entirely on them.

So this is basically the first time that a stranger has ever bought my dinner and drinks, and I am quite touched by the gesture. The guys were so polite and genuine and very sweet, and I do hope that I run into them again. In a town like Chicago, it really wouldn't surprise me!

It just wasn't meant to be

1950's housewife
Originally uploaded by Theresa Thompson.

Facebook is great as a social networking site and a way to indulge scrabble addictions (in the absence of copyright violations and resultant lawsuits).

But Facebook is also where your privacy goes to die.

Painful experiences early on reinforced the life lesson, "If you don't want anything read, don't write it down". So just like on this site I'm very careful what information I put out there on Facebook. However, when it comes to relationships, I don't think it's necessary to hide whether you're seeing someone or you're not. It's no big deal and nobody really cares one way or the other when you get down to it. Your friends want the best for you, and if that is something you find with someone else (or not), then so be it. Right?

It seems Facebook disagrees. It seems Facebook wants everyone to find their special someone. And so it was that one day this week, me and KH were musing over email about how irritating it has been that we keep seeing dating advertisements on our Facebook sites. I agreed, suggesting that the "30 and STILL single?" banner heading was the one that grated with me the most. The caps were clearly intentional, which just irked me all the more. KH agreed wholeheartedly and suggested that the prominence of these advertisements was most likely linked to the fact that we had flagged ourselves as explicitly "single" in our Facebook profile's relationship status.

Ah-ha, we thought - let's do something about that. So I volunteered to change my status and instead of saying "single", I just left the space blank. But Facebook was not so easily outsmarted. The system generated an automatic message to each of my 139 friends, heralding that I was no longer single. And it tacked a love heart alongside the message, just for added kick.

The emails started, then the phone calls. Was I now loved-up? Who was this man, and why hadn't my friends met him? The power of Facebook was crazy. But my friends all understood and laughed, and agreed that the idea to outsmart Facebook had been a good one - in theory, anyway.

But Facebook was not done messing with me, and it exacted one last revenge. Figuring that I had now succeded in snagging myself a man, at over 30 I had better pull out all the stops to actually keep him. So instead of sending me dating advertisements, I was being bombarded with anti-wrinkle cream ads, promotions for cellulite-busters, and weight-loss recommendations by the hundreds.

Okay Facebook, you win this one. I'm back to being single and fabulous, and trying not let the "30 and STILL single?" banner get to me. Much.

I just can't stop

....e io preferisco Pinocchio! ....and I prefere Pinocchio!
Originally uploaded by parri67reds!.

The other day when I went in to buy my $10 loaf of bread (that incidentally went mouldy faster than anything you've ever seen), I was looked after by my favourite checkout operator.

Again, he asked me how "my baby" was doing. Of course he is referring to my mythical boyfriend - mythical in the sense that he does not actually exist, but the checkout dude just THINKS he does. And I have never corrected him.

Ugh it's a nightmare - I'm too far into the ruse to turn back now. Originally I figured the only way to get out of this mess was to buy a giant tub of Ben & Jerry's (and nothing else), and come through the checkout sobbing. Perhaps that would suggest - without the need for words - that the 'relationship' had finally met its end and we could drop the subject.

But these are the genius ideas I have outside the store, and by the time I get in there, I have totally forgotten about it.

Naturally I'm being paranoid - and I know that. I mean, the checkout guy is only making conversation with me because I'm otherwise a rather boring shopper. I am always shopping alone, and I always buy the same things; Diet Coke, hummus, carrot sticks. So I guess that having him believe I am ensconced in a fully-functional and satisfying relatonship makes me seem somehow less dull.

I really have to stop spending so much time alone obsessing about these things, don't I?

The little Spanish flea...and other irritants

Whether it's the last ditty you hear in the car on the way to work, or the catchy commercial jingle, or the favourite tune you replay on your ipod, songs have a way of getting under your skin. And so do people.

Mero realised early on in our relationship that certain songs stay with me all day. So as I walk past her desk en route to the bathroom, it is not uncommon for Mero to start humming, and she alternates between:

• Little Spanish Flea;
• Blame it on the Bossa Nova;
• Blame it on the Boogie (we have a real blame mentality at the office it seems);
• The theme from 1980s Cottees cordial commercials (you know the one that goes, "My Dad picks the fruit, that goes to Cottee's, to make the cordial, that I like best"?!); and
• Jingle Bells (not really the odd man out here, because instead of words, she just 'la la la's her way through the first verse.

It is not uncommon for me to lay awake at night, blaming the bossa nova (and then Mero) for my inability to visit dreamland. And just when the tune is out of my head and I do drift off, I return to the office the next day and it all starts again.

I have tried to get her hooked on the "Mana-mana" song from the Muppets (aka "The Banana Boat"tune) but to no avail. Likewise the "Tarara Boomdiyay" was popular when I was little, but she just looks at me like I'm on crack.

So she just shrugs, opens her mouth, throws her head back and flamenco-dances off into the distance chanting the little Spanish flea song. ARGH.

To share the love (and frustration), I'm paying it all forward. Enjoy!

What would Dorothy do?

Nate and the Tornado
Originally uploaded by holgaguy.

Last night there was a crazy storm that required the City to activate its tornado alarms. I don't think weather has ever scared me quite as much as it did last night; partly because it came on so quickly, but also because it was so fierce.

I had been in bed reading for a few minutes and the wind picked up and started to blow things around my bedroom. Realising things had gone far beyond the 'pleasant breeze' I had hoped for, I got up to close the windows in the house and then KA-BLAM, on came the sound & light show.

Lightning and thunder continued unabated and the windows only groaned harder against the howling winds. The Cubs game had started but was going nowhere quickly as Wrigley Field sounded the tornado alarm, baseball fans scurried under the bleachers, and our cable TV news service was interrupted by the National Weather Service, warning people to head into their basements (if they have them) or to at least stay away from their windows. I seriously contemplated hiding in my shoe cupboard.

Katie texted me from the comparative calm of NY to wish me well but to recommend I drink red wine to get through the climatic ordeal. Good advice normally, but as I was cowering in my hallway, I was too far away from the wine rack and not brave enough to make a run for it. Clutching my mobile phone, I cursed myself for changing into PJs too early. What would I do if I had to evacuate my apartment wearing tatty old pyjamas and no make-up? What would the beautiful boys in my building say? Nope, best to go down with the rubble.

The scene this morning was not as post-apocalpytic as I'd expected. Across the city, trees had fallen on to cars, and neighbourhoods not far from mine were experiencing flash flooding, but the worst of it had occurred elsewhere. My street looked beautifully untouched, hardly showing a sign of having been beaten around the head the night before.

But perhaps tonight it's our turn. The weatherman tells me that we are set for another impressive display of Mother Nature's temper tantrums tonight. But this time, I am ready. I have opened a bottle of red, and have cleared a Gab-sized space in my shoe cupboard just in case - right next to my ruby slippers.

There's one born every minute

IMG11221
Originally uploaded by HBuzacott.

It is an understatement to say that I was not particularly busy at work today. On the whole, I mean. I had moments of frenzy but they were few and far between. And they left me a lot of time to daydream about what I was going to have for dinner.

It's probably depressing for you to hear that I have a favourite type of bread that I like to buy. It's a french style sliced bread, crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. The bakers use unbleached (and unsweetened) flour so I automatically feel healthier eating it and in short, I just adore it.

So imagine my glee when through my hungover fugness yesterday, I visited the store and found a full loaf of it, freshly cooked and obviously just waiting for me. Normally the loaves are only sold by half, so to find a full loaf was like finding a four-leaf clover or a unicorn or something.

Flinging the French goodness into my shopping basket, I almost skipped out the store in sheer happiness. Yes, over bread. I know, the story gets worse.

Today I came home from work, lamely excited because I could have some fresh slices of bread smeared with hummus and some carrot sticks on the side (my usual just-home-from-school snack). Opening the pantry, the loaf of bread launched itself from the shelf and just about clocked me on the head.

And it was then that I saw the price tag on a full loaf of French bread. $10. It's really not normal to pay $10 for a loaf of bread is it?

No, you don't have to say it.

Aye carumba

¡Tequila!
Originally uploaded by Col_arg_ol.

It takes a fair bit to shock me these days, but sometimes I push the limits of my own stupidity and wonder what the &@*$ I was thinking. Take yesterday, for example.

I met L&D for frosty margaritas and some Mexican food. Having been issued a stern (but not unreasonable) warning from Katie earlier on, I was sure to eat something beforehand; a hearty cooked breakfast and some snacks during the morning had lined my stomach really well. And it was a good thing too.

The frosty margaritas went down great. Ditto the complimentary tequila shot to round out the meal. Leaving the restaurant, me and the boys were buzzing but in that warm, everything-is-heartily-amusing way.

So why do you think I chose to nominate that we all go in to Friar Tuck's bar afterwards? Granted none of us had ever been inside before, so I remember that we thought it was a good idea to try out a new place. But once we saw just what a dive bar it is on the inside, why didn't we come to our collective senses and leave?! Oh now I know why: it's because the two bartenders thought it would be nice to buy us all shots. I couldn't make up my mind what to have of course, so the bartender decided for me. And he chose Jamieson.

Great God Almighty that stuff is strong. And it burns the whole way down.

Common sense prevailed shortly after the shots and we decided to leave. The boys had graciously offered to come to my house and install my new air conditioner. And in return, I would open a bottle of Australian sparkling shiraz. Again it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Needless to say last night I slept immensely well and today's hangover is not as heinous as it probably should be. Perhaps it has something do with sleeping nice and cool in my new air conditioned environment? Or perhaps this is my body's way of cutting me some slack, and perhaps my hangover is only on ice, dormant for now but happy to launch itself full-force at me later today when I least expect it. Ugh, I hope not.

He looks how I feel...

sleepytime roo ...
Originally uploaded by smithspix.

This week has absolutely taken it out of me. It's not just the weather either, which has alternated between hot, humid, and hot & humid. Every night this week my commute home has taken over an hour (normally a 20-minute trip), and because I've left work late each time, I've had to stand every night on the bus, squished in with other irritable worker bees.

On the upside, I've been so shattered every night that I've slept like the dead, even sleeping through my alarm twice, which I rarely do, and one purportedly impressive thunderstorm, which I never do.

In any case just to mix things up, this week has also yielded some rather unusual news. I suspected something was up on Wednesday when I was standing at the bus stop and a ladybird pooped on my shirt. They say that when a bird does that, it's meant to be good luck - perhaps the same would apply - not that a ladybird is a bird, but you know...oh forget it.

Anyway the thoughts about good luck kept me occupied enough on the stand-up commute to the office (another miserable adventure), and I got a call later in the day from a media agency. They had heard my voice on the office answering service and wanted me to come and record for them. So that afternoon, after another long and sweaty commute (the train this time), I ended up in the northern suburbs and in a basement recording studio. This agency has a lot of international clients and they have a lot of multicultural voice talent on their books. In my best (and possibly most overdone) Aussie accent, I recorded samples of my voice, telling imaginary callers that their credit cards had been declined and to call back when they had more money. Or something.

But to cut a long and potentially boring story short, I got the job! So on Sunday morning I'll be back in the studio with my cans on (not to be confused with my cans OUT), recording a phone message for the Aussie office a major pharmaceuticals company. And being paid quite handsomely for the privilege. Not bad, eh?

Now I just have to rest my eyes for just a moment....zzzzzzzzz