« December 2006 | Main | February 2007 »
It's friggin TRUE!! They can. Nowadays, they really can. And so, hereforth, I do not mind that my secret mission whilst down under is to find another job. A better job. A job that sets me free GODDAMMIT. Just like these people. Fuck. If they can do it, so can I. So can I.
The other night, whilst out on my third date with 'Man in the Mirror', I took his mid-drink bathroom visit as a moment of opportunity to catch a few snaps with my new camera. Not that I was taking pictures of his butt as he walked in the opposite direction of course - far from it. I turned straight to the table and took a few Art Deco style snaps of the ashtray.
So excited was I at such artistic results that I let out a little scream of delight, causing the couple sitting opposite to turn and offer a sympathtic glance, as if to say -"Aww, you poor retarded creature, has your carer left you alone again?"
I didn't mind of course. I showed them THIS PICTURE, which in spite of being taken in black and white, uses a special, 
magical setting which elimenates every colour but one. EVERY COLOUR BUT ONE!!! Sheeesh, is that exciting or what? Can you imagine being on a date with someone who discovers magical settings on... things... when you go... to... the toilet? Wow.
Anyway, of course, I kept the red in, because I'm loving red wine almost as much as my new camera. So delighted was I with the discovery of this awesome new setting, that my happiness must have been infectious. By the time 'Man in the Mirror' had returned from the loo I was firm friends with John and Eve (the couple sitting opposite), who only tried to find another seat with their eyes for the first ten snaps I showed them on my 2.5inch digital screen. I had even started a little gallery of photos starring John's arm and his rather fetching tattoo. By the time we left, I had their phone number
and I promised to call my new friend Eve so we could talk about my camera again. She no longer thought I was retarded.
Yes, I really am loving my camera at the moment. And I have to admit that in spite of the most excellent company, and in spite of a lot of most excellent steak-eating and the mysterious spotting of a double-ended ambulance that quite unfortunately, my camera was not equipped to capture in such difficult lighting, (NOTE: not because I was drunk and couldn't hold it straight), I was perhaps a little more excited about that magical setting on my new camera. Sorry, 'Man in the Mirror'. Please still like me. I'm not retarded - just ask Eve.
I saw the move Babel at the weekend, which, having googled the word since, apparently means "a
confused mixture of sounds of voices" or "a scene of noise and confusion." I wasn't really that bothered about watching it, because if I'm quite honest I saw the trailor in which there's a gunshot, a herd of goats, some Egyptian boys running over some rocks, and a weird looking semi-naked girl staring out over a Japanese city.
There were also some odd looking shots of Brad Pitt looking REALLY OLD, which somehow, in a very unsettling way, makes me feel old. Exactly when did Brad Pitt spiral so quickly past his prime? Has his rubber-lipped mistress sucked all the life out of him with that glossed-up facial plunger? Since when did the most gorgeous bloke on the entire planet carry bags under his eyes that would put any respectable lower-class Brit's homeward bound expedition from Primark to shame? I thought the man was eternal, you know... some things in life are supposed to be constant, there's comfort in that. But seeing him all haggard and wrinkling on the wrong side of 40 makes me realise that actually, it's been 16 years since Thelma and Louise and whilst back then I was too young to even realise what he could do to me, now he's just too old for me to even consider doing anything to him. Not that I would anyway... I mean, I'm not about to waltz in there and ruin things for poor Angelina. Not now that she's got her brown baby, and the other one she actually made herself, and all that jazz - what kind of woman do you think I am? I'm a lot of things, but I ain't no homewrecker.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Babel. Well, after the trailer I didn't really want to watch it, partly because of OMP (Old Man Pitt), but mostly, if I can be totally honest, because I really don't enjoy movies about weird Egyptian people and goats, and I don't understand Japanese. Call me ignorant, but when it's cold outside and I've got PMT and a hangover the size of Milton Keynes, I'm looking for a movie to wash right over my fuzzy little head, tell me the world is beautiful and sing me a song or two whilst I eat my popcorn. A bit like Dreamgirls did, which I watched afterwards. But I'll come back to that later. So... Lizetta wanted to watch Babel and it was with more than a little trepidation that I sat beside her and prepared to be disappointed.
HOW WRONG WAS I? This film is awesome! I could go all deep and meaningful on you and say how it was a multi-cultural juxtapositional journey through the confused and conspiring world at large, in a time of ignorance, racism, fear and mistrust, on a planet where against all odds, hope, anguish, desire and love reign supreme in a battlefield of broken dreams. But I won't. I'll just say that it was a fucking good movie about plain old language barriors that made me want to send my ignorant ass over to Japan. I mean, I've always been a bit scared of that place - actually - I've always been a bit 
reluctant to go anywhere in the world that doesn't speak my language. But America and Australia are nothing compared to the cultures I'll probably never experience at first hand because I'm still too scared to go where I'm not really safe, not really understood. How much am I missing???
I can honestly say this film gave me hope. It inspired me. And not many films can do that these days. Well, not the kind of films I've been watching anyway in my hazy lazy Sunday expeditions into Soho with my Cineworld Unlimited card. That's not even escapeism, really. That's just endangering your life in the terrorist-tunnel to swap your telly for a slightly bigger screen, ALL in order to make some overpaid and talentless baffoon a little bit richer by standing opposite that coke-snorting one-woman-whore-house, Lindsay Lohan. (Arrrrgh)
Seriously, I've got to start taking cinema SERIOUSLY. I've got to stop cheering on big-titted pre-teen troublemakers and watching Hugh Grant mope on his miserable ass. I've got to watch more films with the aged Pitt in them. There's nothing stupid about him in his old age, I can tell you. He's making all the right decisions.
Go see Babel! And then go see that new Lindsay Lohan one - Prairie Home Companion. It's really good. (Forget I said that, I'm a hypocrite). Oh,... but don't see Dreamgirls. It started out really well as a relatively believable drama about the music industry. But then, about a third of the way through, it suddenly decided it was a musical and even hot but stoney-faced Jamie Foxx was singing songs about the fact that they weren't singing the songs that the bloke writing songs for them to sing really wanted them to sing to each other. Confused? Not as confused as the movie. One for the DVD I reckon.
Been a little busy today, but believe me, whilst I had no time to blog it doesn't mean my thoughts weren't racing along these lines. Note the view from my window after the snow last week, compared to the one somewhere round the area our apartment waits for us in Oz! Woo hoo! Bring it on, I'm frickin' sick of this winter crap! Sorry, sorry, sorry to those left here. I'm sure it's not going to be that great on my month long trip to the SUMMER TIME... (yippeeeeee!)
It's pay day! It happens once a month these days. It's the greatest day in the world because I can finally bare to log into HSBC online to check the dismal status of my bank account. For that one precious moment, on this day, at this time, the world is a better place. I have a big 'C' to the right of the balance, which means I'm in credit. That C lifts my day. I'm high as a kite, dancing with kittens, swinging on stars and spending three pounds on lunch because... well, what's three quid when you're RICH. RICH RICH RICH!!
A few hours later of course, rent, council tax, student loan, bank loan, credit card payment, Homechoice, BT, travel card payment and Insurance come out and I'm fucked again.
Just as well I had a very constructive meeting with the boss yesterday about the prospect of a payrise, and possible 'promotion' upon my return from New Zealand. It sort of numbs the inclination to curl up with a sheep somewhere on a remote farm and hope the Bailiffs don't come after me for the contents of my stable.
Such a shame I'll be in New Zealand when this hot party's going down coz this sounds like a trip. Look at those two,... wassernamesagain? Off X Factor. The ones that made Louis cry because they were just sooooooooooo good and it was such a tragedy that they were always in the bottom two. And isn't Jumpin' Jaks one of those bars that comes attached to that shite comedy club Jongleurs? Or am I thinking of something else?
I remember there was one in Lincoln and we avoided it at all costs, because believe it or not it was even worse than a dive we frequented, called AVENUE, which in itself stank of cheesy feet and its puke encrusted carpets live long in my memory as being the sort of floor even homeless people would recoil from in horror should their sleeping bags come close to contact with.
Anyway, who am I to judge this great even before it even happens? I think you should all go while I'm away.
It's a love it/hate thing with my new Hot Wasabi Peas. I used to eat them all the time when I was drunk in New York - rather like one would pick up a dripping kebab in the UK, I'd stumble to the nearest bodega and stock up on spicy green dried vegetables. Not as weird as you might think. (OK, maybe just a little)
Anyway, last weekend I bought a massive tub from a Japanese supermarket in Manhattan. Shan turned his nose up, but then, his favourite food is lemon flavoured sweets that cost $1.50 per pack. I got a whole tub of peas for just $3.99, which at the current exchange rate is about £2. Bargain! They helped clear my cold right up. Good for the nasal passages, doncha know. Everyone else hates them tho...
Did I just write a blog about peas?
With only 8 days to go till take off (again with the planes,... jesus!), I thought I'd post my itinerary, so you can see where I'll be blogging from in the month of February. If you care! Oh, if you do, I'm thinking of doing a little travel journal along the way. Dad and Simon are taking their laptops, so they'll probably be spending most of the time looking at MSN other than the scenery - but such is life. Personally I'll be taking notes, counting sheep and missing shot after shot on my digital camera as we zoom through numerous 'once in a lifetime' moments I'll only ever experience through the viewfinder. Again - such is life.
No really, I can't wait to explore the wilds of New Zealand, but it will also be quite interesting to spend a month with the family. We haven't all been on holiday together since we ventured to Orlando. I think I was 14. Anyway, here's the plan. Hit some of the links and check out the websites. Some of the pics are gorgeous. I'm sure I'll take some better ones (ahem?!) but it looks so nice! Eeeeee, excited now!
Feb 1st
Leave Heathrow Terminal 3 on Singapore Air, SQ 0321. Take copious amounts of pills to stave off jetlag. Prepare movie watching itinerary.
Feb 2nd
Arrive Changi, Singapore for a 7 hour stopover involving spas, showers and a botanical garden. Ooh er!
Feb 3rd
Leave Changi, Singapore Singapore Air, SQ 0231. Arrive Kingsford Smith, Sydney and head to our apartment in Darling Harbour, Sydney. Meet Verity, Angela, Jen and try not to fall asleep.
Feb 4th
Sydney. Meet up with Mieke who I haven't seen since summer camp in 1999. Weird!
Feb 5th
Sydney. Stop into lastminute.com/au and meet the Ozzie crew for lunch.
Feb 6th
Fly to Auckland on New Zealand Air, NZ 714
Feb 7th
Wine tour on Waiheke Island for Dad's birthday, (hopefully). Looks amazing in the pics!
Feb 8th
Paeroa, Karangahake Gorge, Waihi, Katikati, Tauranga, Papamoa, Te Puke.
Stay at Ambassador Thermal Motel, Whakaue St, Rotorua
Feb 9th
Wai o Tapu Thermal Wonderland and other thermal things
Stay at Le Chalet Suisse, Titiraupenga St, Taupo
Feb 10th
Turangi, Tokaanu, Taumarumui and the Raurimu Spiral (train), Lost World Highway.
Stay with family friends in New Plymouth
Feb 11th
Festival of Lights
Stay with family friends again
Feb 12th
Maybe boat trip to Sugar Loaf Islands
Stay with family friends, again
Feb 13th
Fly from New Plymouth Airport New Zealand Air, NZ 8845 to Wellington, then onto Dunedin, where we're staying at Grants Farm B&B, 151 Old Brighton Road, Fairfield, Dunedin.
Feb 14th - 23rd
Otago Peninsula, Nugget Point (amazing!!)and Roaring Bay to see the Penguins!
Staying at Balmoral Historic B&B, 147 Chicory Road, Inchclutha.
Drive through Catlins (south scenic route) Te Anua and Milford Sound, Queenstown, Crown Range, Haast Pass, Glaciers, Punakaiki, Westport, Buller Gorge, Motueka, Nelson, Havelock, Queen Charlotte Drive
Feb 23rd
Ferry leaves Picton and arrives in Wellington.
Staying from 23rd till 28th Feb with Brian (family friends) in Lowry Bay, Eastbourne, Wellington.
Explore Wairarapa, Wellington and around Dominion. Get boat to Wellington.
Feb 28th
Fly from Wellington Airport to Auckland Domestic
March 1st
Fly home from Auckland International via Singapore Air, SQ 0282
Thanks to "Man in the Mirror" for sending these truly scrumptious pictures of dogs, wearing snoods. Snoods are awesome by the way. I think mum knitted me one once. I think maybe it was intended to be a roll neck jumper but she got bored after the collar part. Still,... shame we didn't have a dog to put it on. Look at the cuties!
I'm especially digging the disco glitter snood - great for when your pooch wants to party. And behold the stripey humbug snood - great for... well... making your dog look like a lickable sweetie. Bless.
After raiding Kings Pharmacy on Bedford Avenue, back in Brooklyn on Sunday morning, I have now learned to be aware of American "over the counter" drugs. True, my No Jet Lag pills were a fine discovery, but I fear the others haven't fared so well.
Last night before bed I had a Lemsip sachet with hot water (containing paracetemol), a sleeping tablet (to knock me out in spite of the phleghm factory residing in my throat), and two Tyleonol PM's, which I actually bought for Sarah, but they looked so inviting in their fat, fancy tubs of exciting colour that I had to crack them open. They were supposed to help me sleep through the night and I took them as back up in case the regular sleeping pill didn't work. Obviously.
Anyway, Becky's mix-n-match prescription service was probably not the best idea. Having gone to bed at 5.30 (after being sent home from work for being diseased), I woke up at 8 with no idea whether it was a.m or p.m. Just as I was staggering through to the living room to check my computer, (logic told me my laptop would tell me what the darkened winter world outside could not), Lucy came home after her day at work, and I realised it was night time.
Then I went back to bed and proceeded to have the weirdest dreams I've ever had. I know hearing about other people's dreams is perhaps the most yawn-inspiring thing in the whole world, but listen to this! I dreamed my parents bought a massive house in the country with white walls and blue carpets in every room. There were other people there, and it turned into some kind of hostel, which then morphed into my old friend Claire's house. Anyway, mum turned to me and said "I'm not being funny, but I think I saw a ghost yesterday." And just as she said it I turned around to see the ghost myself - a woman with her hair in a pony tail, wearing purple trousers and a dark cloak. I followed her. AS IF I WOULD!!! But in my dream I was super Becky - fearless in the face of the paranormal. I followed her up the stairs where she disappeared into a cupboard and slammed the door. Anyway,.. it all goes a bit hazy after that but there was an incident where this ghost trapped my cat (I don't have a cat) in the bathtub and wrapped it in the shower curtain. Then when I tried to confront her, the bitch zapped my lips shut so that only spaz sounds came out.
Eventually, I found these two women in a courtyard, by the sea, dressed in period costume (??), who told me the ghost was actually "the Beheador", which in my dream meant she used to cut off people's heads. I found this highly unlikely as the ghost giving me grief had been a pony-tailed chav in a cloak.
And I don't even think that "beheador" is a word.
Anyway, then I had this weird, "am I still dreaming or am I awake moment", where I felt the edge of my bed sink as though someone was sitting on it. I opened my eyes to find they were glued shut and I was aware that I was REALLY hot. Not as in,.. wow, you're gorgeous, but hot as in, you're lucky you're not sharing your sick bed with anyone right now because you're a sweaty freak.
I'm not sure if there really was anything supernatural going on in my bedroom, but needless to say I won't be concocting my own "get well remedies" any time soon. I shouldn't have mixed my own medicines, but had I bought my supply in Boots I doubt I'd have spent the night tripping in a haunted house.
Those Americans sure can do drugs.
Recent Comments