So — Aint he a Nice Baby ( makes me wanna eat him ) ?
He is so Smart and Cute...

Trip N' Burn presents : a photo of E-tamar ©

Telling you, becoming a dad - is my Burning Man this year!

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Well look, in the scheme of things it wasn’t uber tragedy, no one died or anything and come to think of it, it is the sort of thing that happens to me quite often.

My bag, my deliciously overpriced Mimco bag with soft wash Italian leather, adjustable straps and mega sex appeal that I have enjoyed strutting around town with for all of a week fell apart in the supermarket on Friday night.

I had been warned. Mimco had recalled the bag, but when I picked it up the shop lady said to ‘take it away and see how it goes’.

It was sad though watching a $450 bag disintegrate (slight exaggeration, the bag did not crumble perse, the strap came off) just as I was at the check out purchasing some costly and overindulgent Friday night ice cream with Princess Nicole and Justin,

“For fucks sake, the bag is fucked,”

The check out guy looked fearful as he was loading the ice cream into a plastic bag at the same time.

“Not that bag, this bag, the straps come off…..”

He wouldn’t make eye contact for the rest of our shopper, checkout guy relationship.

Poor him.

I imagined all of the people that scoffed at my purchase, saying it was too much and it was a waste of money. My face went red and steam came out of my ears. What a poo. (When he heard, Rowan the Hawk, laughed like and evil madman....."Sucked in")

On Saturday I ventured to the northern beaches with Princess Nicole who was having her hair coloured. She has gone to the same hairdresser there for a while and I had never looked around Avalon, so I tagged along.  It was fancy but laid back. I like it up there, lots of rich people and shops that sell lots of things that you could live the rest of your life without buying but when you are in them you are convinced you need it all. Nifty gifty items, home ware shops, organic boutiques. I know, masturbation station.  

I was momentarily convinced I needed a set of red heart shaped ramekins but then I came to my senses realising only a desperate sex starved housewife, who cared more about futile kitchen accessories then her failing marriage would purchase such a useless item.

What is that saying about me? Let move on.

I returned the failed handbag and was disturbed to find out from South African Mimco shop girl that said,

“They won’t be making anymore of these, ya?! You just pick another one, ya?”

Ya? Ya I would if I could decide lady. I found the whole thing a bit of a downer. I already had my nice bag and now every other one appeared to be second rate, like my bags special cousin. I did decide on a new one in the end. It is black, it is nice, enough said.

I did have one other significant purchase on the weekend. A purchase that appeared to break Flat mate Justin’s little heart.

“What about the plasma TV? I thought you were going to buy one of those?”

Purchasing a plasma TV is important to me, it really is, but as I alighted from the bus that conveniently pulled up outside InSki, a lovely ski shop in the city, I noticed a massive Sale sign and with that a powerful force pull me into the shop. Like a robot I marched with determination, sat down and was fitted by a hunky ski shop dude. I felt slightly embarrassed about wearing my man socks and smelly converse but got over that quickly when I sunk my feet into a delectable pair of boots.

After my painful Japanese ski boot hire experience in December I swore by the power of grey skull that my feet would never  enter a pair of hire boots again. Well that’s done and dusted and so is my credit card…..I should have them paid off before the first ski trip of the season. Sheesh. This blog is turning into a tally of debt. Oh well. Live it and love it I suppose.

It is Justin’s Birthday. I sent him this card.

Very appropriate.

Happy Birthday Justin. Check out his blog. Go on, it’s his birthday.

(Update it more often Justin, seriously.)

Its also Former Flat Mate Micks birthday later in the week…better spend some time deciding what card to send him.

Ok, I’d better go and decide which organ to sell, to pay for the ski boots and my upcoming birthday extravaganza organised by the Princess which she warned me about saying,

“Babe, you better have some money put away for this. This is going to big and you can’t be a tight arse at the place I’m taking you,”

This scares me a bit.

“Also you can’t buy a cheap dress; I am taking you to Paddington next weekend. High end babe, high end. I told you, you are going to be the belle of the ball and you can’t do that in chain store tacky stuff,”

Christ. Anyone need a kidney?

Italiaans

Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!

Tu pure, o, Principessa,

nella tua fredda stanza,

guardi le stelle

che tremano d'amore

e di speranza.

Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,

il nome mio nessun saprà!

No, no, sulla tua bocca lo dirò

quando la luce splenderà!

Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio

che ti fa mia!

(Il nome suo nessun saprà!...

e noi dovrem, ahime, morir, morir!)

Dilegua, o notte!

Tramontate, stelle!

Tramontate, stelle!

All'alba vincerò!

vincerò, vincerò!

Nederlands

Niemand mag slapen! Niemand mag slapen!

Zelfs jij, oh Prinses,

in jouw koude kamer,

kijk naar de sterren,

die trillen van liefde

en hoop.

Maar mijn geheim is in mij verborgen,

mijn naam, die niemand zal kennen.

Op jouw mond zal ik hem uitspreken.

wanneer het licht zal stralen,

en mijn kus zal de stilte doen verdwijnen,

wat jou de mijne zal maken.

(Niemand zal zijn naam kennen...

en wij moeten, helaas, sterven, sterven!)

Verdwijn, oh nacht!

Sterren gaat onder!

Sterren gaat onder!

Bij het ochtendgloren zal ik overwinnen!

Ik zal overwinnen! Ik zal overwinnen!

___________________________________

Trasferitosi nella nuova casa a Nord di Amsterdam, l'emigrante passa la prima notte nella sua stanza zen.

La casa è appena ristrutturata, si sente un forte odore di vernice.

Il mobilio è praticamente assente.

Manca il frigo, la lavatrice non ha l'attacco giusto, niente ferro da stiro.

In soggiorno solo un tavolo e quattro siede.

Nessuna traccia del modem promesso, e come sempre l'emigrante si aggancia al flebile segnale del vicino di casa che, sprovveduto, ha lasciato la wireless non protetta.

In camera solo un letto e un comodino.

Andato a letto alle 11.30, l'emigrante si sveglia alle 2.00 con l'asma: l'odore della vernice è insopportabile, asfissiante, e l'emigrante apre la porta che da sul balcone.

Purtroppo non basta e l'emigrante si alza: non è possibile rimanere a letto e si trasferisce in soggiorno, da dove scrive questo post alle 4 di notte, con la porta del balcone spalancata e un freddo culo (dit is Amsterdam...is niet Tunisi).

Per fortuna la sera prima ha ricevuto un messaggio da parte di un olandese in Amsterdam west che gli propone una camera a 700 euro (contro i 400 della camera zen).

Giacomo [ndr Puccini] dice che ll'alba si vince...come si dice da noi: speruma'n bin.

La cosa più grave? E' che l'emigrante scrive di se stesso in terza persona...sarà solo un espediente letterario?

So we turned up at the hire truck place and I lied saying I had driven a truck before. Why lie about that stuff? Why not? The rental lady encouraged us to buy extra insurance and gave us a big speech about how expensive the trucks are to repair. Blah blah blah.

I got in the driver seat and realised all of the gears were around the wrong way, yep that was going to make it easier.
After my first drive to the storage facility, where Justin and I convulsed with laughter the whole time I sort of got the hang of it…….sort of.
Justin kept saying,

“Look at little Leish driving the big truck…I can’t believe it!....wide turn now hon, don’t hit the ….oh curb, too late doesn’t matter well done you!”

We loaded up all of my stuff and then headed to Justin’s house to do the same. We decided to park out the front of his joint so we wouldn’t have to carry the stuff to far. As I attempted to manoeuvre the vehicle closer to the curb, I managed to hit a telegraph pole, yeah big deal. It made a horrible noise, scraping and scratching along the truck. I thought of the rental lady and her ‘trucks are expensive’ to repair speech. Damn it. We surveyed the damage. A chunk of metal from the roof the size of my hand had come off and there was a big scratch along the side. A street sign unhinging was also involved.

“We can just stick it back on, it will be ok….”

A lame attempt of convincing from Aleisha.

Justin, the dodgy crooked pole and the sign.

After loading all of Justin’s gear we headed to our new place where I then proceeded to attempt to drive down a narrow driveway and sideswiped our letterbox. The damage this time was a lot worse than the chunk of metal and the scratch. A big gouge and the reflector came off.
Fuck it.

We unloaded the gear and then with the help of Justin’s lovely brother and some industrial glue went about trying to stick the truck back together. It sort of looked ok by the time we were ready to return the truck, the glue seemed to be holding but the big letterbox scratch was fairly obvious. We tried to buff it out but to no avail.

A bit of the letterbox was on the ground so I did the mature and responsible thing and kicked it behind some bins.

Before getting back to the depot I had to fuel it up with Diesel. I couldn’t get the cap off. I stood talking to it, yelling until a lovely guy came along and showed me that I had to unlock the cap with a key. What a doofus.

While driving I decided that I would take the dishonest path and not draw attention to any of the damage that I had caused to the vehicle.

As the dude inspected the truck I played the bimbette, distracting him with my amazingly stupid story of the fuel cap. I danced around like a fool, giggling and going on and on. I felt like an idiot but I think he just wanted to get rid of me. He handed me a piece of paper and told me to see the woman at the front desk.
After reading the piece of paper she said,

“Oh no! Oh dear…”

My heart stopped. I took a deep breath and prepared myself and my credit card for the damage bill.

“You’ve gone one kilometer over your limit….don’t worry though I will pull a sneaky and I won’t charge you!” she said in mock kindness.

Thank Christ. I laughed almost psychotically, too much at her generous gesture and I kept watching the door in case truck inspection man had discovered my handy glue work and was coming to send me to jail.

I left the place very quickly making a mental note to never hire from them….just in case. Poor sucker who gets the truck next time. It will probably just fall apart.

When I got home I pretended to Justin that we got a $450 bill. He looked shattered. It was funny. Sorry Jus.

One other silly thing I did yesterday. When we left the storage place where all my stuff was I said to Justin.

“I am so glad we are out of here, that place stinks like trash, pheeewwie,”

When we got to our new place, I noticed the smell again,

“Shit, maybe the smell has clung to all of my possessions, like the Seinfeld episode with the BO in the car,”

Turns out I had left butter and cheese in the fridge. We opened the door and gagged. The smell was horrendous. Damn you little cheese area with the door. …damn you. After bleach and airing it doesn’t smell too bad now, Justin looked disgusted.

Our place is cool. I am happy there. Justin has great furniture and I have lots of wardrobe space and mirrored robes…hope they come in handy.

*If anyone from the rental truck company reads this....it is all made up.... obviously....ha ha... nervous laugh.

**Also I have been boasting to former flat mate Mick that I am going to beat him in a wide range of PS3 games. I am nervous and may eat my words.

]]> http://lavaligiadicartone.wordpress.com/?p=116 Sat, 26 Apr 2008 20:57:25 +0000 lavaligiadicartone http://lavaligiadicartone.wordpress.com/?p=116
L'emigrante, finita il terminato il contratto della casa sopra l'Hard Rock Cafè, emigra...

e oggi, dopo un mese di ricerca e 4 giorni di albergo pagato salatissimo...

festeggia...e un appartmento in Amsterdam Noord ora adesso è suolo italico

Amsterdam Noord è la parte oltre il fiume, per l'appunto, la parte a Nord.

Il mio appartamento, da condividere con la proprietaria, è vicino ad un parco, quello sulla destra, seguendo la linea gialla fino alla scritta blu. Si, proprio quelo sulla sinistra, quello lì!

Casa nuovissima...la propietaria non ci ha mai ancora abitato...tutti i mobili nuovi, imbiancata pochi giorni fa: tutto nuovo.

E il prezzo? meno della metà di quello di Max Euwenplein

Coooooosa? meno della metà? E in Max Euwenplein neanche era ammobiliato...e altro che nuovo...il termosifone in bagno neanche funzionava, tanto che quando mi facevo la doccia, avevo i geloni al birillo e ai santissimi...ma la Bestia ci sguazzava, orso polare australiano!

E invece qui no, si cambia musica.

Basta ai piatti sporchi ovunque, basta a australiani sciolti e (probabilmente) neanche vaccinati, per casa.

Basta australiani che spengono il riscaldamento in pieno inverno.

"Qui c'è ordine, rispetto, disciplina", questo il sunto della madre della proprietaria, una filippina cristianissima ultrà che mi vuole portare tutte le domeniche alla messa in latino (ebbeh, l'italiano è uguale al latino, no?).

Sarebbe contento Don Felice Radici, mio esimio nonché incazzuso professore di latino del liceo.

E' la figlia, circa 23 enne, il cui candore, fisico e spirituale (?) rivela un'evidente adozione, che deve abitare con me.

E questa figlia ha a sua volta un figlio...e quindi è la filippina è nonna.

E questo bambino come si chiama? Si chiama Romano.

Abbiamo questo bambino olandese, nipote di nonna filippina forse immigrata , o forse già olandese, e figlio di mamma olandese (dalle fattezze piuttosto sud europee), come lo chiamiamo? lo chiamiamo

Romano

Come Prodi, spero....o fa già il saluto fascista?

Ma no, cacchius...chiamalo Henk, chiamalo Jeroen, no?

]]> http://goingontheroad.wordpress.com/?p=47 Tue, 22 Apr 2008 11:35:43 +0000 Jen Barclay http://goingontheroad.wordpress.com/?p=47 I’ve been traveling all over lately that if finally just feels good to stay at home for a bit. My paralegal job is in the city and I’ll be sharing an apartment (if you can even call it that!) in the city, so I guess I should try and appreciate my parents’ large sprawling home while I’ve still got it.

People call New Jersey the “armpit of the U.S.” but somehow, how do I put this…I guess when it’s your own armpit, it’s really not that bad. In fact, I’d say NJ is the forearm of America, or wrist even. Whatever, drop the analogy—my point is the NJ is not so bad!

Anyways, I’m going on the road again, but this time, on the road to the malls of New Jersey! Woohoo! I need to buy a TON of stuff to furnish my half of our apartment so I’m trading cars with my mom and taking her mini van all over the state to get the best deals. Not to brag or anything, but I happen to be a fantastic shopper… just one of my many talents! 

I already went to Monmouth Mall since it’s the one right by my house. I sometimes just stop there to pick up lunch because they’ve got a Salad Works and I’m trying to lose a little weight so I can move to NYC thin (is that pathetic?). Anyways, to encourage myself I bought something at Jessica McClintock that pulls just the tiniest bit too much (is that dumb?).

Tonight I’m going over to Freehold Raceway Mall with some friends, mainly to check out the collection at Kirkland’s Home Furnishings, but I’m sure we’ll also pop into Forever 21 and Dead Sea Cosmetics…hello?...i’m moving to NYC, I gotta look good!

Tomorrow my mom and I and said friend (hi Carly!) are all are going to go to Ocean County Mall in Toms River. We figured we’d make a day of it and drive down to Point Pleasant Beach and then stop at the mall on our way back. We’re going to go canoeing on the Manasquan River and eat cheese fries (not good for diet)—I’ll make up for by getting a salad for lunch…Ocean County Mall has an Everything Yogurt & Salad Café.

I guess it’s not such an extensive tour, but 3 malls are probably adequate since I don’t actually need so much (though I like to pretend that I do).

Wish me good weather tomorrow!

First, I want to apologize for the previous post -
I got some replies saying it is a bit boring (and I could not agree with them more) song... Actually I was pretty sure the role of the Sphinx Cat was bigger (a bit post modern of me - ain't it?) -
So, that is that, and we can go back to our usual business (or should I say bullshit).

It's Spring time now in Israel - and the Citrus is blooming in a powerful intensity -
The oranges and grapefruits, lemons and tangerines plantations alongside the roads are breathing a beautiful scent (something like Jasmin blossom - but much stronger). I ride my scooter from home to work each morning, and crossing the plantations - and back home at the evenings - I fill my lungs with the fragrance that dispersed all over.

I wish this intoxicating smell could stay for more than a few weeks a year -
It is so lovely - it is almost unbearable !!!
I sit in my office ( 1111 ), the window is open and the air is soaked with this smell of fresh flower power, seriously it drives me nuts !!!
And for that - Today, I want to bring you this fun video of -
Riverside's Orange Blossoms Festival (what ever that is):

Trip N' Burn presents : Video by Irish Tuckerera ©

Smile - it is spring time - soon the summer would come, with it's unbearable heat and we can return missing the winter...

Spring is the time for Festivals -
Fill your lungs and start to party...

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"Nice, Man"

"Ya o, Man"

"Fuck, Man!" (al telefono, spessissimo)

Allora ho chiesto cosa dicesse alle donne... fuck, woman? nice, woman?

In regalo una maglietta Iamsterdam a chi indovina :D

ciauz

Vediamo chi riesce a tradurre questo Sms del mio coinquilino

"man sory im buried in the comp. hopefully home soon thoug"

Eh si, perché quando ho visto il termostato impostato sullo 0 (spento) mi sono alterato non poco...

Ho pensato: "Ma come, sono malato e questo abbassa il termo a 0?Adesso mi incacchio".

Siccome era hiuso in camera gli ho mandato un sms all'Italiana (o alla Giuliesca? mah, forse più la seconda)

"Se rimetti di nuovo il riscaldamento a 0 mi incazzo di brutto. Sono ammalato e tu raffreddi la casa? Provaci di nuovo"

Molto mafia...

Appena l'ha letto è uscito e ha detto "C'é un problema?"

io: "Un problema?" e ho cominciato con un tono che, in qualsiasi lingua sarebbe risultato aggressivo.

Ci siamo seduti in salotto e io ho sbottato ancora un po'... e poi lui, che finora era stato in silenzio, dice, con il tono più calmo del mondo:

"Allora quando vuoi accendere il riscaldamento? In che ore, a quando? Va bene, io inAustralia non accendo il riscaldamento"

io, ancora molto alterato: "Si, ma questa non è l'Australia, lì fa caldo....vedi forse canguri per strada?"

Lui, ancora più tranquillo: "Boh, prima che arrivassi tu neanche lo accendevo il riscaldamento...cmq va bene, tienilo acceso quando vuoi."

Ovviamente lì mi ha smontato...ho tirato allora fuori il problema della ragazza:

"Da quando c'è la tua ragazza mi sento un'ospite a casa mia: se voi due state mangiando io mangio in cucina... voi siete una coppia e io sono solo..."

lui, ancora più tranquillo: "Vieni a mangiare con noi a tavola, no? E' casa tua questa, non è che faciamo sesso sotto al tavolo..."

E da lì in poi abbiamo chiacchierato di tuttaltro..e mi sono riappacificato con me stesso :) .

p.s. pare che da loro siano tutti così...è una nostra modalità quella della "litigata"

Oltre i confini della contraccezione

Dopo una notte di sesso

estenuante quasi fosse un ossesso,

ecco apparir sul portone

dell'australiano boro un gran goldone.

Tutto il dì

il preservativo usato stette lì,

monumento ad imperituro ricordo

di un sesso, per quelle lenzuola, un po' lordo*.

*E' due mesi ch non cambia le lenzuola

"La spazzatura si butta da sola"

Io: "Beppe, ho la febbre, sto male"

Beppe: "dobbiamo andare a buttare la spazzatura"

Io:" Sto male, ho la febbre, I've got the flu"

Beppe: "Ah"

La spazzatura è ancora lì, non l'è andata a buttare...eppure è in vacanza ed è tutto il giorno con la sua ragazza in giro.

Turn on te lights all night long

Poiché mi ero perrmesso due volte di alzare la temperatura a 20 gradi dai 15 che lui ritiene essere giusti, mi aveva detto secco "Se arriva la bollett più alta, la paghi tu, eh..." con un tono molto infastidito.

Lui lascia le luci accese tutta la notte...ma prima erano 1 o 2...stanotte mi sono alzato e c'erano tutte le luci accese...in una casa di 100 mq. Erano le 3 di notte e gli ho scritto un sms...se la bolletta della luce arriva più cara, paga lui...nulla di personale, gli ho scirtto, solo regole. Accà nisciuno è fess' guagliò...e tu ha' scassat' o *****!

Do ut mihi ri-des

Che nobile pensiero, che gentil gesto: per Natale Beppe mi ha regalato un pacco di Ferrero Roché e due bottiglie di vino australiano (il ché mi fa pensare, dato che 2 settimane fa aveva detto che il vino australiano che c'è qui fa cagare...

cmq... a vino donato...

I Roché li ho dati l mio collega poiché contengono nocciole...il vino non me lo sono imboscato sotto il materasso, ma l'ho messo in cucina...olo che ieri sera Beppe se n'é bevuto una bottiglia...

A parte la delicatezza del gesto, ma quanto cacchio bevono questi? una bottiglia in 2 in un solo pasto: tutte le sere...

Epilogo:

Al più presto voglio una casa da solo...ho bisogno dei miei spazi, della mia privacy. Se c'é una macchia di sugo sulla cucina deve essere la mia.

Lui ovviamente ha visto la schiuma e io prontamente ho detto:"Oh, scusa, adesso te lo rifaccio".

Lui come al solito non mi ha cagato neanche di striscio (forse non capisce così bene lítaliano), ma di fatto ha messo il biccchiere nel microonde, poi lo ha tirato fuori, ha aggiunto un po di latte e se l'è bevuto...

:|

Io: "Ma Giuseppe...ti sei mangiato sia il tonno che il salmone?"
Giuseppe:"UUUmh, mmmh...il tonno"
Io:" Ma allora dov'e` il salmone?"
Giuseppe:"Mangiato anche quello..ho messo salmone, ma non mi piace salmone, allora ho messo tonno"

Un ragazzo buonissimo, che tende all'ingenuità (aveva laciato sul tavolo il bancomat con accanto la lettera della banca con il codice segreto...).

" Great man, cool man..." sono le poche espressioni che usa, intercalando ad un italiano spagnoleggiante un inglese australiano:

" Tomorrow, quando vado al lavoro, I'll give you a call..."

Grande, se non fosse che nel bagno c'é dentifricio ovunque, lascia le sue cose ovunque e io dietro a riordinare e pulire: ho semintato di spugnette la casa...

Lava i piatti ma alla maniera australiana: wash&go...più go che wash però..e io passo a rifinire...e a pulire il lavandino, dove rimangono le misere spoglie dei piatti lavati all'australiana...

Stasera, come ieri (2 pasti su 2) ho cucinato, apparecchiato e minestrato io...poi lui halavato i piatti...ma non ha pensato che la tavola non si autosparecchia...

Stamattina gli ho chiesto se aveva con sé le chiavi...è tornato indietro perché se le era dimenticate...

Cool man...questioni di karma...e chi sa sa e chi capisce capisce...

LeishBlog:
I've heard bad things and I have no desire to watch it! Why?

Flat Mate Mick:
That's great, because instead of Disturbia (our chosen flick) the video shop has given us Dreamgirls!!

LeishBlog:
Oh fuck off, are you kidding? Well, will have to take it back!

Flat Mate Mick:
Can you really be bothered walking all the way back, because I can't?

Leish:
Dreamgirls it is then!

And so began a rather surreal night for the Macca Mansion. We had a full house this weekend with Flat Mates Sarah's, sister Hannah coming to stay from Melbourne and my cousin Claire crashing for the night after attending a conference in Sydney.

After procrastinating we relented and began to watch the painfully songy Dreamgirls. It's the sort of film that only has about 2 minutes in between each song and it got to the stage were every time there was some undertone of music starting Flat Mate Mick and I would shift impatiently in our seats, willing the song to stop.

Flat Mate Sarah and Hannah came home from dinner together early because poor Hannah had suddenly become violently ill. They walked into the lounge room as Beyonce reached another excruciating crescendo.

Flat Mate Sarah:
What the hell is this? (Dreamgirls) This doesn't sound like a Mick Leish pick?

Beyonce hits another high note and trills for three minutes causing us all to cup our ears.

Flat Mate Sarah:
Oh it's horrible!

Flat Mate Mick:
I can't believe that this is fucking Oscar winning movie.

We both agreed and said ta ta to Dreamgirls.

Claire was due to home at about midnight and when she arrived I greeted her and she stopped in the middle of the street, sifting through her handbag.

Cousin Claire:
Oh no, my keys!

LeishBlog:
Where are they?

Cousin Claire:
Oh God, I left them at the conference in the city.

This was a conundrum because all of the Claire's clothes were in her car and she was standing in cocktail attire in the middle of our street.

LeishBlog:
OK, well lets get a cab and go and get them or we can call the NRMA.

The NRMA was the easiest option. While we were sorting all of this Flat Mate Sarah was helping Hannah, who had gotten sicker and we went through all of our collective medicine collections looking for something that was going to stop her from being sick. Clever Flat Mate Sarah remembered that she still had all of anti vomity stuff from her trip to India and with Claire's pharmacist approval Hannah was drugged up.

The NRMA dude arrived about 1.45am and we stood around watching him break into Claire's car. The funniest part of it all was that we were all up an about dealing with our crisis's and Flat Mate Mick slept through the whole thing!

Earlier in the night, I had dinner with my Poppy because today e is heading to Turkey for a holiday. I hope when I am 86 I am still jet setting!

Speaking of, this Friday is the last day of my contract with Southern Star, which sucks a bit because I am out of a job. December is a tricky time of year to be unemployed as everyone is winding down. In January the TV world comes alive and there will be jobs around, so I am in the position of trying to think of something to do for the next month. One option that is quite prominent, is to take off to Japan with My Dad to go skiing and then hook up with my besties, Kath and Anth, who are living in Tokyo. This trip would be super fun, but also means that I will spend all of my back up, unemployment safety money I have saved.

(Trent I am coming to work in the pharmacy! This may sound like a joke but I mean it.)

The adventurer in me thinks the holiday is needed and I always find work and then the safe part in me (about 2%) says stay at home, eat noodles and sit on the cash!?? Anyway we are deciding tomorrow, which would mean that we head off in early December to ski the powdery slopes of Niseko and then to sing Karaoke, all of which would make great LeishBlogs so I think I should go.

Another interesting point of discussion this week was that I was informed that Ski Boy Blake has found a girlfriend even though he was 'wasn't ready for a relationship!'

Bless.

No criticism or judgement here, seriously. He's a nice bloke but perhaps he should learn some manners.

One day, when discussing ski boy Blake, Flat Mate Mick got all serious and said in his wisdom

"That's just not the way you act, fuck him off,"

I suppose the lesson for me, (which everyone from Positive Simone, The Flat mate collective (great band name!) especially Dave and my father have been preaching for a while) is that I need to focus my attentions on locating guys with a bit of life experience and that appreciate that LeishBlog is a well decent catch and that I deserve better.

Anyway I am now off to walk across the mighty harbour bridge and then head the Mecca of cheapness…. Kmart with Justin to snap up some bargains and once again avoid re writing my stand up act which I am due to perform in 2 weeks. Procrastination station. Yeeh-ha!

L

Facebook is a marvellous but hideous invention for too many reasons to bother mentioning. I did however read this week that my friend Heath who moved up to Sydney from Hobart at about the same time I made the trek is heading home to Tassie. In June I was having a particularly hard time being in Sydney and I declared at the dinner table one night that I too was going home. There is a part of me that feels so pleased with myself for creating this new Leish existence. A year ago this week I was calling wedding vendors, telling then that the wedding was off and haggling over what we had to pay for not holding the event (fucking cheapskates, although there were a few nice people). It's really bizarre thinking about how robotic I was. I went into survival mode and just got shit done. Even more bizarrely I drew the winning horse in our Melbourne cup sweep stakes, I half heartedly celebrated and then went back to my office to try and convince our wedding reception place to not charge the full cost of the venue. It sucked. I don't want to mull over the past a lot and I know the path that I am on at the moment is really where I should be, but it strange looking back on my old life.

I don't crave it like I used to. Although sometimes I can be going about my everyday stuff here and I think, gee it would be nice to be taking the dog for a run or head to the Hill Street Grocer to by exuberantly priced olives or going on a Nick the ex mystery drive that would inevitably end in us arguing over what music to listen to… me wanting to listen to top 40 shit on the radio and him wanting to listen to weirdo jazz that gave me panic attacks! Silence was usually the more humane option. But hey memories are great to have, but I don't really have any regrets. Everything I did last year to try and fix it all up and smooth it out I stand by.

But sometimes I sit in my sunny bedroom and look around at my stuff. I have bed my lamp, my Seinfeld poser which I look at each night while removing my make up (I'm not nuts!)  and my beloved laptop. I really did have a new beginning, moving to Sydney.  I am enjoying the unfamiliar and I am certainly not as down as I was in June and I am happy that I chose to stay because really going back to Hobart was an easy decision that would have been a step back both emotionally and career wise. My work is going well and sometimes I have a little laugh to myself about some of the people that I have met and worked with and the opportunities I have been given, they have truly been amazing.

LeishBlog is pretty much a general diary of my existence but its funny, the other night Dave, Flat Mate Sarah and I were sitting around having a chat about how quickly the year has gone by and Dave said to me,

'Leish, I've noticed there's some stuff that happens, that you don't put in the blog,'

He's right, there is a lot of stuff that I avoid writing about, for various reasons, mostly as Flate Mate Sarah would put it, 'you've got to keep a bit of yourself for yourself'. In saying that, most of it would make killer blogs and I can't really figure out why I haven't shared some of it before. Maybe because there are emotions and other people involved, maybe because if I write about it, I can't avoid how I really feel and maybe the other people will be uncomfortable. Geeze that all sounds pretty cryptic. See I can't even explain it, without avoiding saying what I really want to say.

I've done a lot this year so far….regrets? Not many. I suppose I do regret on some levels revealing so much about myself emotionally so early on in the piece. I mean seriously I got off the plane in January from Hobart and sort of fell in a heap and Mick and Sarah both helped me so much. Really I was a fucking mess and if it wasn't for the Diazepam that an unnamed best friend gave me before I got on the plane I wouldn't have made it to Sydney. (I am not an advocate of taking other peoples prescription medicines but man it helped and I floated around for the first few weeks of my Sydney existence!)

In saying all of that I don't regret being open about how shit and confused I felt, it had to be done or I would still be a mess now, but I know that wasn't the real Leish. Sometimes Mick makes these little comments that refer to me being emotionally unstable and I want to shake him and get him to realise that it isn't how I am. I think he watches me and if I look like I might be even a bit down I see fear in his eyes, like I might crack and really I don't feel that way at all anymore.  (Although I know he takes pleasure in constantly taking the piss out of me so it's probably good material for him!)

I am thinking that perhaps a part of me will regret writing this; it's all a bit intense, but you should have read the stuff I edited out! Oh well there has to be some new bits for the LeishBlog Autobiography! God help us….

As Flat Mate says every night to Sarah and I, Hasta manana and thanks for reading LeishBlog!

(He doesn't say the reading bit.)

L

Last Saturday I talked to Trent and he asked me how my date had gone on Friday night?

Aleisha:

'What date? Unless rohypnol was involved I didn't remember any form of romance?'

Trent:

'Oh I read in LeishBlog that you had talked to Blake, so I just thought that you hooked up,'

Aleisha:

'Nup. bummer'

Then at work I was on the phone and Raina, who sits next to me said,

'Who was that?'

Aleisha

'My friend Simone'

Raina

'You mean Positive Simone from the blog?'

Aleisha

'The very one!'

I was trying to tell flat mate Mick a story about something that happened when he was overseas and he looked at me like I was whacked and said.

Flat Mate Mick:

'LeishBlog (which is what he now calls me) I already know all of this?'

Aleisha:

'But you weren't here.'

Flat Mate Mick:

'I read it'

Aleisha:

'Oh, but don't you want me to tell you again? I can do the funny voices and make it dramatic'

Flat Mate Mick

'Nup'

Aleisha

OK

It's a catch 22. maybe I will call my friends and tell them my amusing stories and then publish them but then they wouldn't log on…..Oh well signora to conversation and hello to mega hits on the blog.

This week I have been working on a segment for the TV show about the Cadbury Gorilla Campaign.

If you haven't seen it, check it out.

Basically we came up with an idea to find a real life monkey and get it to play drums in the studio. So I found a monkey, actually it is a Mikach called Tammy and then I found a baby drum kit for Tammy to try and play. God knows what this monkey is going to do…my guess is that it is going to take a dump on set and hopefully fling it around a bit! Now that's comedy! Here's me assembling the crappy drum kit. It only cost $19.95 and I have a firm belief that the monkey will trash it.

I think the advertising was defiantly doctored because if you look at the photo of me and the drum kit and then look at the kid in the advertisement it looks wrong.

I was in a supermarket a couple of days ago and I witness a small child hurl herself to the ground and proceed to have one of the most passionate temper tantrums I have ever seen. Besides the mental note I made to be very carful with contraception, I also looked upon this performance with envy. At what age does it become socially unacceptable to chuck a whammy in public? I suppose 26 is a bit old? But sometimes I think it would be cathartic to really just act how you feel in public. We all walk around pretending to be on top of it all when really sometimes I feel like I should be in a bjork clip!

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing really to be frustrated with at the moment in life, except for slow txt message returners (!!!) but you know it's not really worth a rant.

Finally my ARIAS fake tan is wearing off and I look like I might have some sort of odd skin disease….I want to say leprosy but that isn't right because my limbs are still attached.

Bye Byeo

'I can see you have been beaten but I am going to do the polite thing and ignore it!'

I wanted to say

'Hey, yoga girl don't feel sorry for me, it's a paintball bruise, no need to call the department of social services'

But the instructor was already moving us on to our next sun salute so I had no time.

I love Yoga. After every class I feel repaired. My muscles feel like I've actually used them and I make a real effort to switch my brain off for the hour and a bit each week. Sometimes it is hard but to not have my brain whirling around, thinking about inane problems and people, is a real pleasure. One of the things about taking yoga classes is that you never know what the class is going to be like and who you are going to be next to. Last week I was directly next to 'Mr, I know this class better than the instructor and am going to try and beat her to the poses, tool' he bothered me. This week I was next to 'Heavy breathing lady'. She reminded me it of my old art teacher and was breathing like she was just about to have an orgasm. It was disturbing and not really how yoga breathing should be. I tried ultra hard to ignore her , but there is something about a woman in her mid forties making whining noises while her arse is in the air that is hard to disregard. Our instructor Kate, however was great, she was mega flexible and was full of wise cracks. She was also very brown. So much so I became slightly fixated on whether her tan was real or if it was fake. Which brings us back to my spray tan.

I have never had a spray tan before, with my cynical part of me deeming them pretentious and peculiar, which in actual fact they are. Prior to the spray tan I had a bikini wax which again is a a strange experience because you are lying there having a lovely old chat while a total stranger is removing and styling your pubic hair! I suppose it is like going to the gynecologist. Ladies we've all been there and really you just have to lie back, hope for the best and pray they make all exploration speedy. I think I am quite good at carrying on a conversation while in precarious and somewhat uncomfortable situations. Hell, I'm good at carrying on a conversation in most situations.

The spray tan lady told me to get my kit off and stand starkers in a weird shower area. I had a papery hair cover and also a weird disposable g string that reminded me of the hospital. The lady then came back and instructed me on where and how to stand while she blasted me with tan! She decided I need a '2', a middle range tan because if she used a '3', I would 'look like a Jamaican. I stood there naked, laughing to myself about the ridiculous concept of someone drenching a total stranger in a coloured mist that may or may not eventually make them look like an oompa loompa!

After we finished she informed me 'I couldn't shower for 48 hours!'

'48 hours…that's disgusting!' I answered.

"oh actually, I meant 14 hours, so tomorrow morning will be fine!'

Thank fuck for that or as Flatmate Mick would say 'I would smell like a Frenchman!'

When I got home Flatmate Mick took a step back from the door, in mock horror when he saw my brown face and I shrieked and played round pretending to an idiot (pretending?) and then I realized Sarah friend Jill, our guest for the week was sitting in the kitchen observing this tomfoolery. We then had a lovely risotto for dinner which the lovely Flatmate Sarah whipped up and Mick and I mucked around with my web cam.

I am really hoping I don't wake up tomorrow glowing because the tan has continued to develop and I look like a Malibu Barbie on crack. That would suck.

Not too brown yet???

Tomorrow is Friday and I can safely say I am done with this week. Not for any reason except I am looking forward to sleeping in and to catching up with my lovely friend Julia on Sunday (and getting dressed up and partying) Yay for us.

I want to say publicly that Trent beet me in the game of facebook Scrabbleand I am not afraid or ashamed to say "well done you". However we have started a new game and I have a good feeling about beating him. I think perhaps we should wager his room so I can move to the central coast and not need a spray tan because I would live on the beach.

Enough said.

Riccardo has come to Australia for a year to travel and hang and I said I would show him around Sydney. We had a good night, had some drinks and I went about trying to speak slower and not include Australianisms like 'bogan' in conversations. Do you know how hard it is to try and explain what a bogan is when you don't have any collective point of reference? It's hard.

When I got into bed on Friday night, being the doofus that I am on occasions, I accidentally dropped my mobile phone in a glass of water on my bedside table……yeah I know, embarrassing.

It tricked me because I pulled it apart and wiped it down and then I switched it on and it worked but after a minute or so it gave up the will to live and expired. So anyway this caused all sorts of hassles because I was phoneless for Saturday as I hauled arse around Chatswood trying to find a good deal on a phone and one that would take my Sim card. In the end I found a pretty red one that takes pictures and everything….I know what you're thinking.

'Like der Aleisha, phones have had cameras and other wonderful additional options for years, have you been living in a cave?'

No, no cave but I have had a strong stance about mobiles phones, being that I didn't need a telephone with a camera in it because I have my own real camera which I seem to carry everywhere with me anyway. I know it isn't much of an argument which is why I finally surrendered to societies peer pressure and purchased a phone with lots of added extras. Extras which I don't know how to use because it is a different brand to my other phone. If anyone received weird disjointed txt messages over the weekend (I know not much different to my normal messages) it is because I have no clue what buttons I am pushing, and accidentally kept pushing send instead of delete and the phone sent millions of unfinished txt messages out.

I got countless reply messages like this…

"Leish wtf?"

"Have you been kidnapped? Is this a cry for help?"

"Please don't txt me again unless you can learn to use your phone"

"You are dead sexy" (actually I just made that one up)

Sunday was a big day. I headed up to the delightful Central Coast to be sprayed with paintballs and also to destroy the muscles in my thighs (from all of the comando squating). We all met up at a truck stop at Mt White before heading into a valley to get kitted up to shoot each other. Trent and I (see: The great Fireroom scandal) have had a long running competition on who was going to kick who's arse at Paintball. Ironically on the day we were put on the same team so we had to find other inventive ways to shoot each other.

It was a pretty hot day and in all of the protective stuff they make you wear, it was sweaty and icky after about 3 minutes. There were about 7 girls and 7 boys and it was funny thinking about how neat and lovely we all looked at the start of the day and how trashed and grimy we all felt by lunch time. From the first round I teamed up with James who became known as 'Sniper 2' …I was 'Sniper1'. (Writing that, I felt mildly insane) Sniper 1 and 2 had tactics and hand signals….we were the real the uber paintballers and even pretended we had comms systems which we would check before each game, much to the amusement of our team members (now I do feel insane). It was fun though. I got shot up a lot and I don't believe that the breast plate that the girls wore really provided any extra protection because my back bruises are the worst!

Moments of my worst pain of the day was captured on film when I was stupid enough to stand up in the open when I thought there weren't any members of the opposition left. I got shot in the head and momentarily believed my brains where going to come out.

Aleisha Shooting

Aleisha standing, prior to being pegged in the head...idiot

The final round of the day was an all in shoot out, where it was everyman for himself. Trent and I had a show down where he got me in the back twice. I thought that I had finished all of my paintballs but as I got up to leave I shook the gun and found I had one ball left. The referee suggested that I shoot Trent at close range because

'He is being a smart arse'

So I did, execution style, while Trent was facing the other way, right in the ribs. I believe Trent called me a 'bitch' and some other expletives but I won't hold that against him because the post paintball bruise was pretty bad. While eating lunch we all pondered on who would still be alive if the paintballs were real bullets? We would all be dead, having taken shots to the head and chest. I have concluded that we make terrible solders, even with good code names.

After paintball we headed to Trent's pharmacy where I was given some bruise ointment because all of my main bruises were conveniently placed in areas where they will have full exposure when wearing my ARIAS dress (which is next week). Seriously I look like I have been involved in some horrendous domestic abuse incident.

We also took a dip in the pool and then I was given the grand tour of Trent's neighbourhood which was stunning and I didn't want to leave. It's so beachy and laidback. I would fit in well there. I told Pam, Trent's mum, that I was going to come and live in their spare room. She laughed politely, but I told her I was serious and that I would be moving my things in next week and that I don't like eating fish, so if she could avoid cooking seafood that would be great. (They are changing the locks). All jokes aside, Playford family, I have had an architect friend draw up some plans for converting your patio pool area into a bedsit. It is doable/ I can give up my TV producing/comedy aspirations and just become and beach bum.

Finally I wanted to end on an election note…..DONT STOP READING….I knew I should have said threesomes…..Flatmate Mick is politically apathetic and I was bugging him the other morning about not donkey voting and ruining the country. He was hungry and had no bread and I said to him that he could have some of my bread if agreed to vote for Kevin. He saind yes and ate the toast. How easy was that?! I am working on Flatmate Sarah now.

I am going to upload some webcam stuff and paintball vision when I can be arsed....In polite terms, tonight.

This is my favourite youtube clip today. It is Comedian Jim Gaffigan. I love his style. So worth a look.

Later alligator

Seriously guys I've seen them all.

We have a funny thing going at the office, that we all sit with our headphones on, staring at our screens, a bit like youtube zombies. I do believe we are the quietest TV production team around except on Fridays when the insanity of it all gets a bit too much and air of mentalness flows through the building.

We have gotten to the stage that if one of us laughs aloud or grimaces we all jump out of chairs to watch the clip because we have become so immune to jackass rip offs, guys being hit in the nuts, stupid songs and crazy animal clips, if something genuinely makes us react we all want to see it. I do question the whole voluntary testicle damage stuff. Guys, you go on about how sensitive they are but there are literally thousands of clips of dudes, having them set on fire, crushed, kicked and twisted. It is a bit sad.

Last night when I got home, Flatmate Sarah her boyfriend Dave and I watched Wolf Creek. (See I do mention you in my Blog Dave!!)

Sarah and I had seen it before, so we were watching it for Dave's benefit. He wasn't that keen, but we peer pressured him. It is really icky poos and I sat cringing for the whole hour and a half.

When the film was released I was working on the radio and I got to interview John Jarratt with Charles Wooley. It was pretty cool, but all throughout the interview I kept thinking of him on Better Homes and Gardens with Noni, happily building children's swing sets, fixing fences and potting plants. Then I pictured him as the 'head on a stick' psychopath Mick form Wolf Creek and thought maybe they could combine the 2 characters, Better Homes and Psychos, were Jarratt builds instruments of torture and shows us how to mix the right amount of sedatives, to knock your victims out.

Anyway, like my first viewing of the film, I was left with an eerie feeling knowing that a lot of it was based on what Ivan Millat did in real life and that is not goood.

This week I splashed out on a specky web cam. I got home, tried to install it, it freaked out, fucked my computer up and I had to do a reboot. A reboot I tell you, not just switch it on and off, I mean restoring factory settings. It was major. I love my laptop like I suspect I will love my first child, maybe more. And it's lucky I am good parent and back up regularly or the shit could have really hit the fan, I could have lost all of my writing, photos, porn……gone. Anyway now I am going through the task of reinstalling everything which is mega boring. I went back to office works and got a new web cam where I was told the old one 'wasn't Vista compatible' no shit Sherlock. This is the 90s people, Vista is everywhere, what a crappy deal. Anyway they slogged me an extra $50 for the Vista version, which I begrudgingly paid because I am a sucker. Bum to them.

Me pointing oddly to my laptop

Lastly thanks for reading LeishBlog, it has had 2000 hits, which is nice.

There will be a new LeishBlog the movie post this weekend, so watch that if you like.

Over and out.

At my last Radio job, we didn't start work until 11, so I lived the life of cruise. Now I am working much longer days. I've got a good routine going now though. I walk in the morning at 6.30, which I love. Without sounding like a Nanna it is a wicked time to be up and about and I always enjoy seeing how many people say hello to me on my merry way. I think that is a good way to judge if people are nice or not…it doesn't take a lot to nod, mouth hello or come up to you and give you a full on tongue pash.

Fucking hell, I do sound like a nanna….especially with the pash bit!

There is one guy who walks at the same time as me every morning who is David Kochs doppelganger. He never says hello and always looks grumpy. My main aim in the morning is to make him crack and for him to show some sort of nice trait, even if it is just eye contact. I will beat the niceness into him if I have to.

Nothing much happening on the home front. I had a moderately boring weekend with a tinge of disappointment and some funny times.

Friday night, I hit the Opera bar with Kurt and Ben, my 2 illegitimate husbands. I unwittingly did the teenage thing of going straight to work to the bar, no dinner, drank wine, behaved like a show pony and then woke up feeling none too pretty the next morning. We did have a good night though and I met some shiny new people, which I like doing. One in particular was Sam, who had just been admitted as a lawyer, so I am going to be his first client (handy for those armed robbery charges and my upcoming divorce! Who will get the kids? Hopefully not me!). It's always good to have a lawyer on your side, particularly if you are me.

Saturday was a total blah blah…except for shopping with Justin for my ARIA dress, my new shoes and wishing Dave a happy birthday. Again I ended up back at the Opera Bar and had a smashing time with Dave's crew but due to my lingering hangover, took off home to watch a shitty movie on TV (The Island) and play on facebook (rock the cazbah Aleisha…rock it).

Sunday I headed off to enjoy Yum Cha with Sarah and Dave and their crew but had a mild panic attack in the car on the way over and hopped ship at Bondi Junction. Nothing major, I just needed some Leish time and what better way to this than head to Kmart. Although I love a god designer frock, one of my favourite tight arse activities is bargain hunting and Kmart is a bit of a tight arse Mecca. My lovely friend Kath always knew the way to my heart was a bargain hunt and one of our favourite activities was heading to Kmart on Friday arvo after a work lunch when we were pissed to try on clothes. Our respective partners, I believe, were fearful of the bags of stuff we would come home with after these expeditions. Well I wasn't drunk on Sunday but my credit card got a minor work out and gee it boosted the old endorphins.

Today at work one of the segments I have been working on for the TV show is researching Life Casting. If you thought I was open and honest in my blogs (I'm not really, I have missed out some pretty major details of romance and heartbreak….oh yes, it will come out eventually boys, it will!) Life casting is a whole different ball game. It is basically people that film themselves 24/7 and stream their every move on the web. I became mildly obsessed with a couple of these sites today, watching people sleep, eat their lunch and talk to people that are also watching them. I don't know what the benefit is, besides the attention I think it may become a little wearing….I would have to sleep in my mascara! To check out a couple of lifecasters in action, check out......
http:www.justin.tv

Tonight I cooked my famous Pizza and Flatmate Sarah and I sat around like facebook junkie tech heads at the dining table eating with our laptops, playing around. Flatmate Sarah has created a 'catbook' profile for karma…..god help us.

Girls gotta Blog....

Lili

HAPPY BITHDAY TO MY DAD DAVE TOMORROW: I LOVE YOU!
60 is the new 25!

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