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Vodka, Tequila and the Anzac Mystique

April 26th, 2007 (03:44 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: content
current song: My Friend The Chocolate Cake - More Heart Than Me

Hooray for public holidays! I hadn’t had a full day off for over 2 weeks before Anzac Day (holy shit, I only figured that out just then! I must be certifiably insane, man), which probably explains why I’ve been so emotionally screwed for the last little while, not to mention so fucking tired that I COULDN’T EVEN SLEEP PROPERLY (yeah, go figure that one out). But anyway, hooray for public holidays, especially ones that spontaneously appear in the middle of the week! Because this little bunny, she needed the break as desperately as Spike needed Lynda all those years ago… and to make sure she actually took it and didn’t do something really stupid like try to work through it instead, she wisely made herself as paralytic as she could the night before with a little help from her friends Mr Smirnoff and Mr Mezcal. Twas rather funny.

Heh. Mezcal. I was thinking of you, Makukes. All night, I was thinking of you J

And THEN – in light of all this, how did our heroine spend the actual day part of her day off? She lay in bed and watched DVDs all day, that’s what she did. She was a disgusting mess of greasy hair and panda eyes, and smelled to high heaven of the raw taste of Mehico, but boy did she enjoy herself. Nothing like a day of Kevin Hood and Press Gang to get you back to basics. Oh the hilarity! Oh the angst! Oh the UST! What more could she have wanted? Besides another four days of the same, that is?

Heh. Spike and Lynda. I was pondering this conundrum with muneek_may yesterday, actually: how is it that Dexter Fletcher manages to be so inexorably sexy and cool, anywhere and any time, when really he’s just a little weed with kind of bug-eyes and an only just-passable American accent? Seriously, it never fails to astound me. I mean, let’s face it – he’s nothing out the box, but somehow he manages to make us weak at the knees every time he shows up with that razor wit and running commentary about the progress of his feet. What an awesome, awesome dude. Love. And Lynda! She’s just the best, Julia Sawalha. Awesome chick. What a bitch, but what a an awesomely cool one. And man – gotta love that perm.

I’m serious, guys.

stickytabs [userpic]

Guess what I finally saw on Saturday night

March 27th, 2007 (05:43 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: melancholy
current song: Soundtrack of The Village (it has beautiful violins!)

Yep. The 2006 Doctor Who Christmas Special that hasn't been aired here yet. Needless to say, it is the first episode of the new season... and as such is sans Rose.

I cried.

Last time I saw them, they were like this:

And now they're like this:


At least he got upset whenever that bride asked about her. At first I thought she was going to be shithouse, but she was really quite cute by the end. I thought the villian was a bit pov though, despite the fact she was Sarah Parish and as such one of David Tennant's best friends. She was fantastic in the new BBC adaptation of Much Ado. But at the end of the day, neither she, nor the bride, was the same as my Billie-Rose.

I miss her.


stickytabs [userpic]

Hooray for Clone High!

March 25th, 2007 (10:26 am)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: apathetic
current song: The Corrs - Little Wing

It's so sad they only made one season of this show. Tim, if you're out there - thanks for sharing dude, even though you didn't warn us about the end!!!

Which Clone High character are you? (w\pictures)

You are... Joan of Arc!
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

stickytabs [userpic]

Hail Storm

March 9th, 2007 (08:00 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: amused
current song: My Friend The Chocolate Cake - Sirens

In case anyone was interested, last week was a whickety-whack time here in the Berra. Out of nowhere, this kick-ass storm rolled in and trashed Civic, karate-kid style. Unfortunately I did not get to see the aftermath of the destruction first-hand, and it happened at night and the next day was my day off, so there was no way I was going near my work! But Mo, Dan and I did watch the storm from our backyard... before it started pissing down rain, that is. Strange that we were only three small suburbs away, and all we got was rain.

This was my work after the hail dump (don't know why this pic didn't upload properly - click on it for the full effect)

My work again

The view of the street from the apartment block above my work

... and this was the view from Yass.

See Howard - this is what happens when you ignore Global Warming - freaky weird shit starts happening out of the blue in places where it's not supposed to!

(I hoped you liked that, guys, because that's about as close as I'll ever get to an environmental rant, so lap it up!)

Oh, and I couldn't help myself - I had to put this one up too. This is me and my brother when I went to visit him about 2 weeks ago, just after he had his car accident -

Hee hee! See, he likes me, no matter what he says!!! :P

stickytabs [userpic]

Never let it be said I am not a sharer...

March 2nd, 2007 (05:11 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: nostalgic
current song: Tracy Chapman - This Time

Heh heh. Will be writing a proper post again soon, but in the meantime I thought I would share with you something that made me laugh the other day in the midst of my turbulent office that is still recovering from hail damage/flooding (thank you random Canberra weather).

It came with the caption:

When life gets you down...

...dance like a gay Spiderman.

Well, it made me laugh!


stickytabs [userpic]

Royal in the afternoon

February 10th, 2007 (07:15 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: relaxed
current song: My Friend The Chocolate Cake - A Slow Storm Brews

It’s funny the way the world turns. It’s funny how once you start working full-time, 6 days a week, life seems to suddenly put itself into perspective in a way it never did before. All of a sudden, Saturday afternoons become such precious, precious things. Lying on your back on the backyard lawn watching the clouds collide with one another suddenly feels like such a decadent, romantic thing, and you forget why you haven’t done it since you were five. Listening to the dero’s across the street tuning their cars whilst singing loudly and off-key to the various rock anthems of the decades past becomes a relaxing past-time, rather than an annoyance you try to block out by whatever means possible. The screeching cockatoos that congregate in next-door’s trees suddenly seem imbued with a beautiful nobility you’ve never noticed before, and somehow their sound no longer seems ridiculously grating, but rather playful and life-affirming. Late nights with friends were you lit candles, drank tea from a pot and read tarot with a rather nervous sense of rebellion seem distant and dream-like, and suddenly you start to realise just how prevalent pin-stripe is these days. Acne is suddenly ten times more crippling than it used to be, and spending time with friends is suddenly something that needs to be planned weeks in advance, and in hourly increments.

It’s funny, really.

Who knew.

stickytabs [userpic]

Last post about tennis. I swear! ;P

February 9th, 2007 (09:28 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: satisfied
current song: The dulcet tones of the cricket... *Han shakes fist at Dan*

Alright. I had to have a little break from blogging there, as the grief over the general Ruski performance at the Australian Open was quite consuming, and if I hadn’t forced myself to keep it to myself you all would have suffered just as acutely as I did over the whole Dmitry-Tursunov-not-making-it-through-the-third-round saga, and me being the lovely gal that I am wanted to spare you from that any possible way I could. I’m sure the other Dima fans out there know what I mean. It was, in short, and in every other sense of the word, a tragedy. He was going so well! And then he hurt his wrist and couldn’t backhand properly… he could’ve gotten to the quarters if he hadn’t, he was doing that well… and on top of the whole Marat thing…

Well yeah. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry about it anymore, so I better stop there – but you get the picture. So basically, I took one for the team there guys. In time I’m sure you’ll live to thank me for it. Yeah. Think about it.

However, I WILL say that my one great solace throughout the whole thing was that within 48 hours of Marat losing to Roddick, just about every Russian in the Open had been knocked out as well, which I like to think was a deliberate decision on their part. Once he was gone, the party was over and it just wasn’t going to be the same, and I reckon they all knew it too. Even now I can almost hear them as they collectively threw down their racquets after their first sets:

“Fuck this shit, man – I’ma gonna go hang with Marat at the beach!”

And hey, we all might as well face it – he may be only No. 24 in the world at the moment, but man, he has the pulling power. And while I love Dima (at times even more so than Marat, which is saying something), he is the whacky friend – the Maria to Marat’s Liz, the Colin to his Spike – not the leader. So, at the end of the day – Marat, I salute you. My childbearing services continue to be yours, any time.

But Dima – you too are the shit, man. You are certifiably made of awesome, dude. And so cute, too! :P

And that is all I have to say about that, so I say goodbye to tennis for another year. Well, half-year. Wimbledon is Wimbledon, after all!


stickytabs [userpic]

Goodbye, Safin

January 20th, 2007 (06:30 pm)

current location: Stives, for the last time ever!
current mood: depressed

Marat lost to Roddick last night.

Am desolate.

I love him. I will despise Roddick forever for taking Marat from us too quickly.

Dima is my only hope now, as Nads was knocked out by the HUGE-ARSED SKANK who will not be named on this site. Am so sorry Nads - you rock my socks.

Carn Dima. I love you too, dude. :P

Oh, and carn Dinara, too!!!! Please don't let me down guys - I have too much invested in you! It can't be healthy... and yet I wouldn't change it for the world.

Oh Marat. Marat. Marat.


stickytabs [userpic]

To Russia... With Love

January 18th, 2007 (09:51 pm)

current location: Bit of a Downer...
current mood: giggly
current song: Sarah McLachlan - Witness

I know, I know – it has been far too long between posts, and I will freely admit that I have been neglectful. However, it’s not like I’ve been seduced by a better offer – far from it. Stupid Christmas, stupid house-moving, stupid job-hunting, stupid garden/house-maintenance and stupid heat have all been getting in the way over the last couple of weeks; but now that (most of) those things have subsided I am free to come back to you now, at the turn of the tide…

I am, of course, referring to the Australian Open, and the way in which my beloved Russians are taking it by storm.

Tennis is something which has waxed and waned with me throughout the years – much like everyone else, it has very much been a fixture of my summer holidays for just about my entire life. I have quite a distinct memory of my mother and I watching Anka Huber and Monica Seles play while she did the ironing one afternoon many years ago; similarly I remember thinking Boris Becker was an absolute gun around the same time. However, no one in recent times has captured my heart like the inimitable MARAT SAFIN, whose babies I would gladly have, should the occasion ever arise.

I love this pic - it's so hilariously wanky, and yet such an apt description! ;)

Apparently, the honour of having Marat’s babies is a much-coveted thing – former Russian president Boris Yeltsin seems to be happy to take the job on too, having in the past declared Marat to be the archetypal Russian and a national hero, due to his great love of women and fast cars. His sporting success seemed to take a very distant bronze to these two essential characteristics.

Doesn't Marat just look so stoked to be grabbed by Boris? Lol!

I’d like to take this opportunity right now to say that I have always liked Marat, and am decidedly NOT a band-waggoner in this respect; his 2005 win over Lleyton did very much seal the deal though, and since then I have never looked back, in spite of who has come and gone, and in spite of the long time I have been denied him due to his injuries, etc. However, now that he is back for the ’07 Australian Open, I would LOVE to see him win it again (although I have to type this quietly, as I now share a house with an avid – and I mean AVID – Roger Federer supporter). Whether this is indeed feasible or not is another thing entirely though – Federer is just so good, and is CONSISTENTLY good, whereas Marat brings new meaning to the idea of running hot and cold. I mean, when the dude’s on he’s really fucking on, and Federer better watch out; however, when he’s not on… well, the less said about that, the better. Suffice to say a lot of broken racquets are involved, and not a lot of prize money. But he’s definitely got the pulling power – the guy can hardly move for the chicks that throw themselves at him everywhere he goes (referred as his ‘blontourage’ by the solid-gold Jim Courier) – and he’s definitely got the talent; but he’s also definitely not playing his best at the moment, which is stressing me ENORMOUSLY. I swear, every time he hits the court he takes my life in his hands, and I have nearly died on several occasions throughout this week already. I find it’s worst when he goes near the net, which seems to be the bane of his existence at the moment. He is so bloody lucky to have got through the matches he has so far – I’m telling you, my entire future relies on the outcome of his match with Roddick (‘dick’ being the appropriate emphasis to make when asked about him) tomorrow. Well, almost.

(Oh, and I have coincidentally developed quite a soft spot for Marat’s sister Dinara by extension in recent times – who is just doing so well at the moment, I’m so proud of her! I hope she can beat Hingis again in the round of 16, she’s done it before after all!! =) )

Awwww... he loves his sister! So cute!!! :P

AND YET, after all my gushing over Marat, there is one other Russian who has managed to steal my heart over the last month, and to whom I will always turn to, should Marat fail me (and to whom in my weaker moments I would turn to regardless) – he is, of course, none other than the Russian tennis and hilarious blogging sensation that is…

DMITRY TURSUNOV!!!!! *crowd screams wildly and throws their underwear at the suitably gorgeous (if blond) world No. 22*

Dima is currently seeded as No. 21 at the Australian Open, having won the Hopman Cup a short time ago with Nadia Petrova (likewise a favourite of mine – I’m telling you, it’s all about the Russians at the moment!) in spectacular fashion. Aside from being an absolute stunner, he is also one of the funniest bastards I have ever seen – see his numerous blog entries on the ATP site (he is now the resident blogger there, so funny was his first appearance there; see also the infamous mixed doubles match succeeding his Hopman win, where he and Nadia played Tommy Robredo and Anabel Medina Garrigues of Spain. During this match (amongst other things), Dima replaced his own shirt with one of Nadia’s and stuffed it with tennis balls to fill the gaps in the chest cavity. I think what I loved most about that whole match though (and there was much to love about it!) was the way in which it was so obvious that Dima and Nadia were just having an absolute ball playing together, and got on really well. The Bryan Bros chest-pump was a very cute moment, as was the constant hi-fiving, whether they won the point or not. They’d already won the tournament for Russia, after all… ;)

Dima and Nadia with the Hopman Cup and their diamond-encrusted tennis balls

Dima and Nadia during the infamous doubles match

And, of course, the infamous antics re: Nadia's shirt. Check out the cheeky smile! ;P

But yeah, Dima has an absolutely classic sense of humour – the way he constantly gives Marat shit is absolute gold, although it’s all done in good fun, and is no doubt more the result of jealousy over how many chicks Marat pulls than anything else. Marat likewise gives him much shit also, so all in all they have a very healthy relationship, and apart from being an awesome (if tempestuous – see previous notes re: Marat’s hot and cold-ness, as Dima seems to suffer from the same condition) doubles team, they were both part of the Russian team that won the Davis Cup together in 2006, so best buds all around is the general conclusion.

Dima on being asked what he thinks of Marat... while Marat was sitting right next to him. Great journalism there, guys. Well, Marat certainly seems to think so...!

At this point I feel I ought to admit that it was Jodi who introduced me to the phenomenon that is Dima, so snaps must go to her. She wishes me to tell you all that she also loves him very much, although her true love is undoubtedly Roger, despite how perfect Roger’s girlfriend Mirka is for him. I think she’s just being a hog though, wanting both of them… says Han, who has just confessed her undying love for Marat a few minutes before… *facepalm*

ANYWAY… basically, I love Dmitry, I want him to win, perhaps even more than Marat because he really has been playing so bloody well lately, and I was ecstatic that he won his match against Mirzny today, and in straight sets no less. Am desperately waiting for them to televise one of his matches… maybe his match against Berdych will be… that is, if there isn’t some other lame-ass Australian playing at the same time, which Channel 7 will undoubtedly go for over him, because they’re CRAP… yeah, you get the idea I’m sure.

Vive le tennis. Vive le Safin. Vive le Dima. Vive la Petrova. Vive la Safina. Vive les russes.

If I knew how to say it in Russian, I would guys.

I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;P

stickytabs [userpic]

Merry Christmas!

December 24th, 2006 (11:47 am)

current location: Stives, for a change!
current mood: anxious
current song: Sarah McLachlan - Building A Mystery

On the twelfth day of Christmas, stickytabs sent to me...
Twelve exagorazos drumming
Eleven muneek_mays piping
Ten kjd_pferds a-reading
Nine kukamukies clubbing
Eight prawns a-ranting
Seven jesus a-sleeping
Six paris a-driving
Five fo-o-o-oreign films
Four writing novels
Three henry james
Two writing letters
...and a summer in an isobelle carmody.
Get your own Twelve Days:

Talk about teh funny! Got this little gem from kukamukies. I realise I have been neglecting my internet fandom of late, but I promise that come the New Year there will be plenty to post about, so you will all be treated to more of those long-winded diatribes I know you all can't wait to be subjected to. What can I say - I live to give.

So, without much further ado, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year - may you all escape from the pending affair without too many scars (mental or physical - I know that with my family you can never quite pick which one it will be) or useless presents that you are obliged to look excited about until the relatives leave, at which point you promptly dump them off in the St Vinny's bin. Oh, how I mourn for the days when the Baby Jesus was still the most important, not to mention exciting, thing about this silly, silly season...

Anyway, enough of the bitter and twisted groanings of a dysfunctional family Christmas veteran - LOOK WHAT I GOT FOR CHRISTMAS!!!