The Adventures of Deep Kick Girl Down Under

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Some people are just fucked.

Let me tell you a story.

Marianna goes to day care at Acre Woods Day Care Centre in Gladesville. It's located in a complex of industrial units. There are maybe a dozen cleary marked parking spots right out the front, stating who the parking spots belong to and that they are for dropping off and collecting of children.

Across the driveway from the Centre is a gym which has it's own set of parking spaces. Not a day goes by that there aren't some cars parked in the Day Care Centre's parking spots which obviously belong to people using the gym. During the main part of the day this isn't an issue but in the mornings and late afternoons it is because there are often no parking spots outside the Centre for parents to use.

There is parking out on the street but it involves walking up/down a ramp. Now parents are only there for 10 minutes at drop off/pick up time - in and out. Gym goers are generally there for an hour or more. It would seem logical to anyone with more than a dozen brain cells that if you are going to the gym and can't get a park in one of their spots that you could park in the street and take the short walk to the gym (what's a bit more exercise).

Anyway, yesterday afternoon when I pulled in to pick up my bundle of joy, my sweet little treasure (are you detecting the subtle note of sarcasm?) there were no parking spots outside the Centre. As I hovered waiting for a spot to come up I saw two young blokes, gym bags in hand get out of a van and head towards the gym. A mum who was at the time putting her toddler in the car obviously had had enough and said something to them (I couldn't hear her but I could tell she was agitated). They said something back and kept walking. Obviously she lost the plot because she ran into the gym after them and continued yelling. At that time I parked in a spot that had just become available and as I got of the car she got into hers and drove away, clearly very distressed.

The main goon stood in the gym door and was yelling at her and swearing. In the heat of the moment I yelled over at him that he shouldn't have been parking there and pointed at the signs. He said something really smart like "well, I've been parking there for a year" (hmmmm, well that's OK then!). Then he continued swearing and yelling how he wasn't going to be spoken to like that (in reference to the other woman's comments). I told him not to swear as there were children around and said "you're a big man". He continued going off, "f" words flying. My heart racing, I went into the centre.

The point of my story is that people just aren't courteous any more. These young men are just selfish pigs, they don't give a shit about anyone else, let alone the needs of young children and their parents. We must appear like weird aliens to them, as they peer at us from their ego-fuelled universe, wondering why the hell we can't just leave them alone to go about their hedonistic ways.

I go around with a constant level of underlying built-in guilt, constantly apologising to people in the shops for touching them, even if they were the ones to bump into me, always worried I'm in someone's way or somehow impeding them in my actions. That's also extreme and I am constantly annoyed with myself for this automatic apologising. But surely there's has to be a certain level of decency amongst the community, some level of caring about each other, simply "doing the right thing".

Is it a generational thing? My dad thinks it all started to go wrong with the women's movement demanding "equality" and that was the thin edge of the wedge when it comes to manners and civil behaviour. I don't think so. But there must be an explaination as to why people today are so rude and self-centred and plain obnoxious.

Any ideas?

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You know I love reality TV as much (probably more so, much more so) than the next person.

But this is GOING WAY. TOO. FAR!

Britain's Missing Top Model

Even I wouldn't watch something this dreadful. Well, maybe just the first episode... but only so I can then take the high moral ground and whinge about it later.

Oh, who am I kidding?

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Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Possibly my theme song?

Sing it to the tune of I Will Survive.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified.
When you said you had 10 inches, Lord I almost died!

But I'd spent so many years just waiting for a man that long,
that I grew strong, and I knew that I could take you on...

But there you are, another lie,

I was ready for a Big Mac and you've brought me a French fry!

I should have known that it was bulls***t, just a sad pathetic dream

Should have known there was no Anaconda lurking in those Jeans!

Go on now-go! , Walk out the door,

Don't you promise me 10 inches, then turn up with only 4!

Weren't you a brat to think I wouldn't find you out!?

Don't you know we're only joking when we say size don't count??!!

[Chorus] I will survive! I will survive!

Cuz as long as I have batteries,

My sex life's gonna thrive!

I will always have good sex, With a handful of latex!

I will survive! I will survive!

Hey! Hey!

It took all my self control not to laugh out loud,

When I saw your little weiner standing tall and proud!

But to hell with your ego and to hell with all your needs,

Now I'm saving all my lovin' for a cordless multispeed!

[Chorus] I will survive! I will survive!

Cuz as long as I have batteries,

My sex life's gonna thrive!

I will always have good sex, With a handful of latex!

I will survive! I will survive!

Hey! Hey!


* God only knows what goes on with the line spacing on Blogger.

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Sunday, June 29, 2008

So... Sex and the City.









Spoilers follow...

















1) The Fashion... someone's taking the piss, right?



2) The Wedding Dress... someone is REALLY TAKING THE FUCKING PISS, RIGHT???!!!







3) No-one in their right mind would dump Smith in order to have meaningless sex with random strangers. Sure it's fiction but that's just fucking stupidity! Samantha deserves to grow old and lonely, surrounded by old newspapers and cats.












4) Big is SOOOO not worth the trouble. IMHO.

5) News Flash: Adoption is not a fertility treatment. Seriously, why does every film/tv show have to feature a pregnancy after an adoption. And the way Lily went from being in every shot to totally disappearing after Charlotte found out she was pregnant was offensive.

6) Reasonable bit of fluffy entertainment but not worth a trip to the cinema. DVD on a Friday night would do just as nicely.

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Tuesday, June 24, 2008

[Insert photo of fireworks here*]

Congratulations! To! Me!

Monday was the THIRD ANNIVERSARY of my blog and my blogging life.

Doesn't time fly when you like to write drivel about your own boring life? Well, apparently, YES, it does. Thanks for taking the time.

*Bloody blogger wouldn't upload my fireworks picture due to some stupid error.

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It's been almost seven months since my dear sister J went overseas for her BIG TRIP. It's also the first time I have started to feel that I really really miss her. Not just the superficial missing her I've experienced here and there since the day she left.

Hey JB, I really miss you gorgeous! I hope you continue to have a great time over there in London but should you get sick of all those Poms and give up on the idea of bumping into Kate Moss at the local shops (better off hanging out at the local cocaine dealers!) I'd be really glad for you to come home.

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Here's a story for you.

I was at the bank last Wednesday, depositing a Medicare cheque. Normal routine: fill out the deposit slip, take slip, cheque and cashcard to the teller. As I'm standing there glancing around the branch, talking to Marianna in her stroller, I happen to look over at the teller and notice that on the back of the deposit slip I have just handed to her and the one she is holding in her hand it says: "Hand over all your money or I'll shoot you".

SHIT. I go into major anxiety mode. What do I do? That's like a hold up note, right?! For many seconds (felt like hours) I contemplate the pros and cons of alerting her to the note as oppossed to just pretending I hadn't seen anything. Finally I decide to tell her rather than her discovering it accidentally and thinking I WROTE IT.

So I point it out (as casually as I can under the circumstances). She looks at it, shows it to the two tellers on either side of her. They shake heads, making tutting noises and one says she saw a note like that last week. Everyone goes about their business.

I'm relieved but a bit let down to be honest. Surely they would have some sort of emergency procedure they would automatically launch into. Doors lock, security screens down, police called. But nothing exciting to report at all, except perhaps my elevated blood pressure and heart rate.

This incident raises the question: What sort of SICK FUCKER writes notes like these on the back of deposit slips?

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Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Have you seen this ad for World Youth Day 2008?

Is it just me or does the Pope look like he eats small children in his spare time?

Majorly creepy!

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We're back... and trying to adjust to real life. The worst part about holidays is having to come back. Woe is us (I'm sure there's a lot of tiny violin playing going on out there right now!).

Anyway, the Fiji trip was wonderful. We stayed at the Shangri-La Fijian Resort which is abou 60 kms from Nadi on the Coral Coast. It is very much a family resort and if I didn't have children I would think it would be my worst nightmare.

The Fijians are just beautiful, the most friendly, welcoming people... they just work on Fiji time. I've heard people complain about lack of professionalism with the service in Fiji; to me it's the perfect service for when you're on holidays. Sure it's a little relaxed but that's what I want when I'm hols and generally I'm happy to wait a while, after all when you're kicking back with a book by the pool it doesn't really matter if your fancy cocktail with the pineapple and umbrella garnish takes an extra five minutes.

We went with three other families, all of whom we know through our adoption group and who we've become very good friends with. There were nine children in our group: four older boys and five little ones. They are all great buddies and apart from a few fatigue induced squabbles they got on beautifully. It was such a pleasure to watch them playing in the sand on the lagoon or running around on the grassy area outside our rooms. There was a really fun kids' disco on every night and we took the kids a few times - they loved it; the limbo competition was hilarious.

There were many highlights:

* The children playing together (I could watch them for hours - as long as they're not bickering).

* The children dancing with the Polynesian dancers on stage.

* Meeting the local school children during our day trip.
* Jason taking Marianna for a horse ride on the beach.

* Laying by the pool chatting and reading with my dear friends.

* Some lovely dinners - adults only (thank goodness for evening kids' club!).

* The "big night out" when we hit the disco and danced the night away (well, until 12:30 AM anyway - that's a big night for us old parent types).

Lots more but I'll just let the pictures do the talking...






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Sunday, May 25, 2008

I'd like to see the contract that the acts appearing on the Eurovision Song Contest have to sign. As I flicked through the channels last night while watching the Big Brother Eviction show I was truly amazed at the consistancy amongst the contestants. First of all each and every song is cheesy shit at its best (worst?). Really, unbelievably corny crappy songs without any discernable rhythm or tune. Then there are the voices of the singers. Each more mediocre than the last. I kept thinking that not one of these vocalists would make it past the first round of Australian Idol (and imagining what non-sensical gibberish Mark Holden would use in his comments). Finally the staging and costumes are simply gold. Each of the female singers looked either like a reject bridesmaid from an 80s wedding or a poor waif who had accidentally wondered into Madonna's wardrobe during a blackout and been assaulted by Mad's plastic surgeon while getting dressed. Oh, the horror.

My personal favourite was the Russian singer who not only had to battle through his shithouse song but do so while one of Russia's allegedly best ice skaters (a man who looked remarkably like a carricature of Christopher Dean stuck in a horrible 80s time warp) skated around him. Unbeleivably this act won. Not that anyone else was any better.

OK, we all know those Europeans are whacky but is someone taking the piss?

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Then






Now

I have a dilemma. Paul Weller is coming to do a show at the Enmore Theatre in August. When I got the Ticketek email I went "WOW!". Have to see him, love him, blah blah blah.

Then I stopped for a moment and thought about actually loving the idea of Paul Weller from 20+ years ago. A Style Council/The Jam incarnation of Paul Weller that I knew and loved from my mid-teens. I haven't bought any of his solo albums during the past 20 years. Certainly we have both moved on with our lives. What would I be expecting from his concert?

Since his relationship with The Jam is strained at best there certainly wouldn't be a rousing sing-a-long of That's Entertainment or A Town Called Malice. And since The Style Council's very particular 80s stylings surely wouldn't be where he is musically today I couldn't rely on hearing Big Boss Groove or Speak Like A Child or (my all time favourite) It Just Came To Pieces In My Hands. So I'd be left staring at his (still undoubtedly beautiful) face and not knowing any of the music.

Where does all that leave me? Feeling sad and nostalgic and yearning for a tiny moment in my life when life was easy and the future was filled with glorious possibilities. A time when I stood on a milk crate at the front of the stage at the Hordern Pavillion and touched Paul Weller's sweaty t-shirt as he belted out some of The Style Council's wonderful songs. A time that can never be replaced or returned to.

Goodbye Paul. Goodbye youth. Hello whatever is around the next corner.
... Maybe I could just buy one of his new albums and see if I like it. Now there's an idea...

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The Holiday. There's two hours of my life I will never get back.

One needs to ask the question: how does a steaming pile of dreck like this get made into a feature length movie staring "big name" Hollywood stars. Did anyone read the script? Did a human even write the script or was it just spat out of a great big cliche machine at the Acme Script Factory in downtown Hollywood?

Shame!

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Saturday, May 24, 2008

It's getting exciting now.

After only FOUR MORE SLEEPS we will be jetting off for our Fijian holiday.


We'll be having breakfast somewhere like this...
















Dinner somewhere like this...

















Enjoying this view...






















Reading our books and sipping our Pina Coladas by this pool...


















Please don't hate me... much!

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I keep forgetting to mention how much I love the Big Brother: Big Mouth show with Tony Squires and Rebecca Wilson which screens on Monday nights. It's funny and smart and I think they are trying to talk to people like me (i.e. old folks who watch the show and who should really know better but just want to have a giggle about it). Anyway, I really enjoy it which is why I make an effort to stay up until 9:30 PM (that's right, it's not a mis-print) to watch it. Which means I don't get to bed until after 10:30 pm, sometimes almost 11 - can you believe it??!!

This year it's the best thing about Big Brother. The housemates shit me, as usual. There's hardly anyone in there upon whom I would spit should they be on fire. I don't think Kyle and Jackie O are doing anything great as the eviction hosts on Sunday nights. In fact they are just their insipid best. Kyle is so not controversial, especially face to face, when he always backs down and back-peddles in a major way. He's about as shocking as a cup of tea and a nice biscuit.

Even Friday Night Live, which I still love and look forward to for my major Friday night veg out, has lost something now that the "prize" is so shithouse. Gee, pizza in the "Strategy Room" - woo-bloody-hoo! What strategy? What "prize"? Come on Big Brother, it's too piss weak even for Piss Weak World.

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