"Oh My God! A Scotch Girl!"

Crazy MuthaBucker

2011-12-06T21:06:00.007+11:00

Right. So. Where to begin....
I am slowly coming out of the fog that is new-motherdom. Although, we are already 5 months in.
Here are the deets -
DOB: 19th June 2011
Time: 4.04am
Wgt: 3.25kg
Hgt: 51cm
Name: Dashiell William Amor

After 20 hours of labour, our little man was deemed "stubborn" and so arrived via C-Section.

I had every intention on being an awesome new-mum type who kept the blog up-to-date with all the hilarity that is a new baby. But, well, I was too tired.
Slowly however, I intend on getting back into some sort of blogging, and by that I mean, I intend on getting back into life. A day in a shopping centre does not constitute a day out dammit!!!

Oh, here is a picture of our beautiful boy!

So it's been a few months ....

2011-04-18T15:31:00.005+10:00

So I have left a job, an apartment, a suburb, a state and moved in with a man and some kids and gotten new jobs and well, I am also growing a real proper human baby person. Pretty much why I have not posted for a while.

I am sure I will figure a way to describe in words rather than facial expressions what's been going on and how I feel about it all. In the meantime, imagine a facial expression caught somewhere between unbridled happiness and sheer terror.

Now imagine it just slightly prettier.
Thanks, my self esteem needed that.

I'll owe you one!

2010-12-16T15:08:00.002+11:00

So I am looooong overdue for an update and I do indeed have a hell of a lot to write about.
Only problem is, I feel so overwhelmed by all the bits and bobs going on in my head as well as my actual day to day life, that to sit down and start writing about it is well, a tad too much just now.

Instead, I will owe you one. As soon as I can clear the thoughts from fuzzy emotions into actual sentences containing proper thoughts and ideas (at the moment, my inner dialogue is merely making a series of ahhhh's and ohhhh's as well as the occasional gasp and then giggle. Useless really!)

In the meantime, here is a teaser - I am moving out of my flat (where I have been residing the last 5 years). I am leaving my job on January 21st (where I have been working for the last 10 years) AND I am relocating to Melbourne (where I have been stealing kisses from for nearly 4 years). Yeah. When I change, I mutha-flipping change!!!

And with that, Merry Christmas and New Year! All the best to you and your families!!! Be well and be safe and be happy!
xxx

How I became an old lady. At 34.

2010-09-02T08:47:00.004+10:00

This morning as I left my apartment, I found a small box of chocolates and a note hanging from my door handle:

"Dear Amanda, I would really like to apologise for the way my friends behaved last night and that you had to find the mess that you did...."

Yep. I am that neighbour. The one who knocks on the door of your apartment and says "I am so embarrassed to have to say this but, could you please pick up your rubbish and keep the noise down as I have to work early in the morning ..."

Surely there was a time when I was the one at the receiving end of such complaints? Actually, no. Looking back, no. Not even once. Oh there was that one time my neighbour decided to bang on my wall at 11am on a Sunday because I was laughing too loud.
Actually my laugh is about the only thing people have complained to me about. Which, when you really think about it is absurd! "Please keep the happy to a minimum M'am as some of us have to be killjoys in the morning!"

I won't lie, I am now quite embarrassed about the incident that drove my neighbours to buying chocolates and writing apologies. It means I have to be on my best behaviour for I have cast the first stone ... And I don't want to have to hang my head in shame and buy little boxes of Ferrer Rocher in an attempt to keep the peace! NO! I shall not! You watch how quiet I can be! And neat!!!

Oh let's face it. I am an old Nanna and I know it. I am the first to give a pursed lip "uh uhuh" look to a child who wants to put their grubby hands all over the magazines while in queue at the checkout. I tut-tut the cigarette butt droppers and if you think its OK to "taste" a grape before you buy it, well, you and I are not of the same breed.

No, I might as well let my pantyhose sag around my knees and let my chin hair grow to its unrealised glory - I am a 34 year old Nanna. And proud of it.

Rainyface and Bobo

2010-09-02T08:39:00.001+10:00

These photos make me giggle still - such a great memory from a great time.

Good Bye Uncle John

2010-08-31T15:34:00.002+10:00

Recently my Mum rang me. It was early in the morning -well, early for her- and so immediately I felt like something was amiss.
She said that John O'Leary had died. She said it twice. I heard her clearly, but still needed her to repeat it - but it could not have been true. John O'Leary could not have died. No way. This was just not possible.
Immediately, like we do with death, my head was swimming with thoughts and regrets. When was the last time I saw him? What had we spoken about? Did he know I loved him and that although he technically was my Dad's cousin and not actually my Uncle, I thought of him in every way as my Uncle and that my childhood is littered with stories and memories of Uncle John.
He was that man. You know, the one who was a rodeo champion in the Northern Territory, that went on a crazy cowboy adventure through New Zealand, who was a prison warden at Goulburn Gaol, who was a beekeeper, who was a fisherman, who was a handyman, who was a storyteller, who was a larrikan. Who was a character. Who was the joy and laughter of every family gathering.
The last few times I have gone to Goulburn, it has been to attend a funeral. We would usually have met at Uncle Johns. We would have also gone back to Uncle Johns after the service, to talk, remember, laugh. How could it be that there we would all be again, but this time for Uncle John? It was just not right. I still struggle to believe he is not going to enter the room asking if any of the guys need a beer or if the ladies need their wine glasses refilled.
And his wife. Marleine. I cannot stop thinking about her. These two people made marriage look great. Only last year they renewed their vows. I cannot stop thinking how lucky it was they did that. How happy together they have been for years and years. I hurt for Marleine. I have no idea how she must feel. But by gosh did he love her. That's a pretty comforting thought. He loved her and she loved him and we all knew it.
Perhaps it is because of the age similarities that I have also dwelled a little too long about my parents and what will happen when.... well, I don't even want to write it.
I have actually been surprised by how moved I have been. Both at the feeling of loss but also at the warmth and comfort I have seen throughout my family. I don't think I have ever hugged my brother so tightly.
It's been a sad week - and I think there are some sad times to come - but I am so so lucky. To be a part of a family like mine, well, I will never take that for granted for a minute. Nor will I ever forget what a great man John O'Leary was. He is going to be missed, but as they say, he won't be forgotten. Not for a long long time. That is for sure.

Happy Good Time Excitement Adventures!

2010-08-09T13:50:00.006+10:00

The last couple of weeks have been pretty exciting.
I have been lucky enough to score a few gigs, which I never want to take for granted, but most excitingly, I went to the USA.
A few of my favourite people (both personally and professionally) went to New York to perform in the Upright Citizens Brigade's annual Del Close Marathon. It's basically laughapalooza for improv - over 50 hours non-stop-back-to-back-across-3-venues of improvised goodness.
It started a couple of months ago when Lisa Ricketts cheekily suggested we make an application for the marathon.
Late in May we got the green light and bam, it was all happening. Flights booked, hotels booked, visas waivered, friends contacted and weather channels watched, I counted down the days til it was time to pack officially (as opposed to rehearsal packing) and get my butt to the airport.

I have been to the States before, and this trip could not have been more different. A decade ago I landed in New York and it was cold and big and scary. It was also bright and vibrant and fantastic. It was the first Tuesday in November 2000 - election day, that myself and a friend arrived - and when we left some four weeks later, there still was not a clear President. The 11th of September was just another day on the calendar then too, and $1AUD was worth 50c USD. We made a very lame attempt at travelling across the States, in fact only stopping in New York, Memphis, Chicago, LA, Las Vegas and Hawaii's big island. Just the tip really, of what there is to see. We got the gist though, of just how different countries could be - and of just how different cities could be. I remember leaving thinking how much I really wanted to come back as soon as I could.
This time round, it was just such a different experience. Age probably has a lot to do with it, but there is a lot to be said for having people to visit. Los Angeles was a brilliant time. I caught up with Steve Brandon. He is the first person I know to have won a Green Card and he is certainly putting it to brilliant use. Seeing LA through his eyes made it feel so much more familiar. Staying on his couch and not in a hotel too automatically makes things more chilled.
It's safe to say Steve knows how to host! He took me shopping, to a taping of a dating game show hosted by Jerry Springer, to great restaurants, to a VIP back lot tour of Paramount Studios, to UCB LA, he hosted a games night at his house as well so I got to meet his friends - and all this in the first 36 hours!
I headed to New York on the red eye the night after arriving in LA. This was an experience. It seems that this is how America does its business. People fly into LA first thing in the morning from NYC and catch the red eye back, probably going straight into the office. There were many suited up types, sleeping pills in hand and inflatable pillows at the ready. A LOT is riding on getting sleep on this flight and I gotta admit, I felt the pressure. The flight was an 11.59pm departure. 5.5hrs long. Landing in New York at 8.30am.
Firstly, I flew American Airlines. Big mistake. No pillows and no blankets. Also no service at all. Secondly, I had packed some over the counter "relaxation" pills thinking this would be all I need, but no dice. I took one. No reaction. I took the second and finally started feeling sleepy but then the cold dry air (and me sans blanket!) caught the back of my throat and I had a major coughing attack which woke me right back up again. I had a little "tired" sob in the toilet and then resolved myself to harden the f**k up and sleep! Somehow this pep talk worked but some 90mins later the cabin was being prepared for landing and I was disturbed from my relaxed state, resulting in an occasional cranky spell over the days that followed. They were short lived however, as adrenaline and good friends are the worlds best mood enhancers! (sleep be damned!)
The week that followed was a blur - a rush and yet a slow motion reveal of faces, smells, tastes and sounds. Shows and shows and shows followed by a few more shows. Meals eaten while standing in queues, beers served straight from the keg in college style fervour, polite interest being mistake for flirting, crowded streets, sweaty subways and so much laughter.
The Del Close Marathon and our show in it certainly deserve its very own post - so I will do that, but til then I will simply say it was a long way to come but well worth the journey.
Though the main reason for being away was of course the DCM12, you cannot be in New York and not be the tourist.
I had not seen my lovely Susie in a month and a highlight would definitely have to be going on the Sex and the City tour with her. It was several hours of viewing the city from a lovely air conditioned bus, stopping for Magnolia Cupcakes, Cosmos and many many photo opportunities. We also got lots of shopping time in and lots of running around with smiles on our faces.
I also had the joy of catching up with Matt and Kat Foster, more winners of the Green Card. And those two are also putting it into fabulous use. Matt is acting in a regional tour of My Fair Lady and Kat is working with a fertility clinic. I got to go out to Queens to see where they live - a mere 15mins from the centre of Manhattan by subway! Brilliant. I love that I can now visualise where they are (like I can with Steve in LA). It makes the world seem smaller somehow.
Spending time just wandering about rather than racing from one landmark to another was really great - I felt much more relaxed than I did 10 years ago. I still have so much more to see and so definitely plan to go back, but got much more of a feeling for the city than if I had just raced around ticking things of my list of "to see and do".
Because of the DCM12 we got to talk much more to locals (and so many visitors from other parts of the States) which makes a massive difference to a travelling experience as well. It just makes the places you visit seem so much more real. People are tops. No doubt about it. Well, apart from the one New Yorker (like the bad apple) who elbowed me in the boob and pushed me into the street. I was too happy to be on the receiving end of such a cliche though to be angry and probably looked like a right royal loon laughing instead of yelling. Oh well. No damage to my boob is the main thing.
I was ready to go back to LA though, the heat in NYC was intense, and had two brilliant days with Steve and Carly (another Aussie living there.) They treated me to more shopping destinations, more good food and a night at a bar called Howl at the Moon where once again I think my polite chit chat was mistaken for flirting! I even managed to get a quick sing song in with the "duelling piano" house band. It was a pretty brilliant way to round off the trip.
Just like that though, I am home. Straight back to work with not a lot to do but look at my photos and think about warmer weather (so I can wear all the clothes I brought home with me!).
Thankfully gigs have started to come in already. Friendly faces are around the corner and the arms of a handsome man whom I certainly am flirting with (make no mistake it is not polite chit chat) is only 11 sleeps away......

A happier post from me, Amanda Buckley.

2010-07-09T10:15:00.002+10:00

A lot of my thoughts have probably been coming off a tad on the whingey whiney woe is me slant. So I have decided to shake that stuff off for a while, although it remains somewhere in the back of my already full of not-very-helpful-bits-and-bobs mind, and focus on some super happy good times! Yay!

So here is just a quick snapshot of totally lovely happy things that make me happy and I think are lovely!

My Boyfriend. He is super handsome and funny and smart and talented. I am very lucky. Very very lucky and very very grateful.
I saw Sir Ian McKellan and Roger Rees at the Opera House in Waiting for Godot. It was fantastic - funny, sad, moving, scary, ridiculous - everything it has never been in any of the previous versions I have seen. Other productions have had a few of these things - but the cast of this one captured it all. They performed with such joy and reckless abandon. It was a pricey ticket, but worth it. I am so glad I saw it and that I saw it with someone who probably enjoyed it even more than me was brilliant.
My nephews! I have 3 and all of them are very gorgeous and smart. I went to Adelaide recently to visit 2 of them. I asked my eldest nephew Jackson, who is 5, to "tell me some exciting news!" and he said "ummm, I love you!" I, of course, burst into tears.
I auditioned for Fame the Musical! It was my first official professional musical theatre audition and..... I survived it! Better than that, I reckon I did a job that was not too shabby. I am sure on the scale of things I was less than pitch perfect. I possibly made up a few of my own notes. I set my own pace and rhythm. Hell, I probably rewrote lyrics and invented my own time signature BUT I sang 2 songs and they did not stop me. I did not wee in my pants and I did not hyperventilate. I wanted to, oh how I wanted to, but I didn't. This all might sound like a terrible audition, but it wasn't. It was great. I was absolutely buzzing afterwards and though I know I was not their choice for the role of Mabel (the worlds fattest dancer) I reckon I couldn't have been happier. I was the happiest reject I think they have ever seen! I cannot wait for the next opportunity to be rejected!
In a fortnight, I am headed OS to the US! Woohoo! I am part of a small troupe performing in the Del Close Marathon in New York. It's a festival of Improv and I cannot wait to jump on stage with my friends and let loose! Two of us were also randomly selected (names in a hat I reckon) to play in a "Gathering of the Tribes" mixer and I could not feel luckier. I also get the chance to catch up with some friends who have been living in the States AND I get to .... SHOP! Woohoo!

I am sure there is more I can add - like nailing the vegie and barley soup recipe I have been experimenting with ! - but this is pretty bloody good for starters.

Life's not bad at all Buckley, not bad at all.

Studies in Time and Motion (or Clockwatching)

2010-06-02T15:25:00.014+10:00

Months have gone by since my last post - and though I could list a whole heap of things that I have been up to in that time (Comedy Festivals, interstate trips, shows, working out Boot Camp style and being crazy in love with an awesome man) for the most part, I feel like time has just stood still.

This is mainly due to one thing. My job.

Now to be fair, I should give a little history.

I have been employed by a pretty great company for 9 years. Before that I have worked at approx 18 jobs and the record length of full time employment was just over a year. I had never been fired from a job and had happily moved on whenever I a) got bored or b) cried in the shower at the thought of having to go into the office that day.

Then there is this job.

I am good at it. Over the years I have picked things up quickly. Spoken my mind and been listened to. Changed things for the better. Made a difference. In general, I did not mind getting up every day and heading off to the office - even when that office changed its location daily and even though the day started at a stupid 7am.

Things did start to change though.

The last 2 years in particular. Things that I had thought were important I realised no one else did. Things I had stood up for, fought for and worked hard for were suddenly for nothing. People had always said to me "you know, one day we'll wipe that smile from your face" referring to the idea that I would become as "institutionalised" and "cynical" as the rest of them.

I honestly thought I would never be like that.

And yet.... I am.

We all moved into a new big sparkly building. Revolving doors. Fancy toilets. Coffee machines. These were just shiny distractions though, covering up the fact that we were being centralised. That we were being reformed. Reorganised. Reviewed.

Suddenly we have union meetings and tense discussions and work bans. All very grown up. All very uncomfortable.

And even pushing all of that aside, I basically, through not being assigned a desk (apparently full time employment for 9 years does not guarantee me somewhere to sit!) have not really done anything for a few months.

I sit somewhere different pretty much everyday. Because I move, people don't see me and eventually forget about me. Now even though I am quite a noisy person, lately I have just been really quiet. It's a mini experiment really. I am just waiting for someone to notice I am not about. That I have not done anything for weeks and weeks.

A few weeks ago I found a deserted desk - bona fide vacant - and I have taken up residence. It's on the Northern sunny side of the building. The department I work for is on the colder Southern side.

Out of sight, out of mind. This is indeed how it would seem.

The problem now though, since I still insist on being a do-gooder and turning up at 7am every day and staying put til 3.25pm, is how to fill though hours.
You see, the less you do, the less you can do. Boredom breeds laziness. I can barely be bothered finishing this post, but since it's the first thing I have really put any thought into this week, I have the tiniest feeling of accomplishment waiting in the wings for me the moment I hit "publish post" - this task I shall follow through!
So, how to kill a work day? (day after day after day?)

Firstly - breakfast. I have breakfast at work everyday, after all I start at 7am. But you can bet I make breakfast slowly here, waiting for the oats to become porridge, filling up the sugar canisters, the coffee and tea canisters, cleaning up the benches and wiping down the sinks. This, coupled with the actual eating of breakfast at my newly acquired desk takes me til about 7.30am.

Then there is washing up to be done. After all, dried porridge is hard to remove. You gotta wash that bowl right away. While you're there, how bout you say hello to some work colleagues. Ask about their weekend, heck, tell them about yours, I am pretty sure you just got yourself all the way to 8am.

Now for emails. You have to read them. All of them. All those newsletters you get from various places telling you about holiday deals or first release concert tickets - read them. Maybe even reply to a few.

Open an excel document, perhaps a word document. Just have it there, in case. These days I certainly don't hide the fact that I have nothing to do, but I used to have a spreadsheet open to at least give the impression that I am not just reading the entire Internet. Quite often I would use the spreadsheet - to do my budget or list some songs that I know that I may one day decide to put in a one woman show, probably about the soul destroying effects of office work? (pretty sure that's been done a million times though!)

You'll need toilets breaks and cups of tea. Water bottle refills. Trips to the stationary cupboard. These should all be accompanied with friendly hellos to your fellow man. Before you know it, it's time for lunch.

Call your mum. That usually kills a good half hour.

The rest of the day is spent reading other peoples blogs, entering on line competitions, donating plasma at the blood bank (that's once a month for me and takes up a glorious 2 hours!) making lists, designing the weeks dinner menus and tweeting. Before you can say "employee of the month" the clock hits 3.25pm you have to pack up your belongings my friend, for you just killed a day.

There comes a time however, mine came last Friday, when you cannot do this any longer. When the boredom is so intense that you lose your shit over a the smallest thing and find yourself in a day of meetings concerning your future and how management can put into place some damage control. Apparently things are about to change for me and I have a few weeks ahead where I can start feeling productive again. I hope so ... oh my freaking god I really do hope so!

Excorcising the Demons

2010-03-30T08:01:00.005+11:00

Miss Tooth came back to haunt me yesterday. I thought I had put it behind me, I really did. But there she was, whispering in my ear, sending chills down my spine and robbing me of any confidence I thought I had.

I have taken singing lessons. I have performed in front of hundreds of people. I love to sing. I am a singer.
So why then, WHY THEN does a woman I have not seen in nearly twenty years still manage to strip any sense of worth from me the moment I put myself out on a limb?

Because I let her.

Well F**k Off Lynda Tooth and leave me alone.

There. Done.

Apparently she is a Nun now. Great. I just told a Nun to f**k off. Bugger.

So you think you can dance?

2010-02-19T15:11:00.004+11:00

There was news recently that the Rock Eisteddfod was not going ahead this year because it could not get sponsorship. It's really such a shame because I know first hand just how fantastic the Rock Eisteddfod competition is and how much effort schools put into them.
I was in Year Ten when I was first able to be a part of one.
My school had never entered before but I know we all used to watch it on the tele and it was freakin awesome.
Audition time came around and I put my name down without question. Though looking back, I probably should have asked many questions and all of them to myself.
I didn't actually have any history as a dancer. Sure I was part of a physical culture troupe, but that was when I was three and that was also when "participating" was viewed as a skill.
I did take some dance classes when I was about ten. My friend Nicole really really wanted to take classes but her Mum would only let her if I would do them too. So her Mum spoke with my Mum and I did them. I should point out that Nicole was four years my junior and well, when I say we were friends, it was more like I was her chaperone. So I took lessons, at ten with all the six year old kids. And they all danced rings around me. Probably because I was too busy being awkward and embarrassed and constantly mistaken as the "simple" older child who had to "stay back" with the beginners.
So though my previous dance experience would not have necessarily lifted me to the status of an actual dancer, I still believed I had what it took. I mean, I could throw some shapes.
The day came around and I, along with dozens of other hopefuls all took part in a gruelling round of chorey.
The judging panel consisted of an English/Drama teacher, a PE teacher and a History teacher - all three very experienced at Rock Eisteddfods apparently and all three assured us that we had done a great job and that the decision was going to be a tough one.
A few days later, on the Year Ten notice board, a list of names was posted. These were the successful few - the chosen ones. We all crowded around searching for our names .... and there it was.
Amanda Buckley.
Wait a minute - that was my name!
Amanda Buckley.
Wait a minute - that was my name AND there something else after it.
Amanda Buckley. Set Assistant.
Wait a minute - WTF?
Set Assistant.
Or as it turns out, painting. Painting pieces of material. Dressed in a smock. Way way way out of sight.
Oh they could pretty it up as much as they wanted:
"still part of the team"
"sets are the most important thing"
"the dancers can't do anything without the crew"
Yeah yeah yeah yeah whatever - I have heard that before. I am the LAST person you want painting your set - back then my motto was "Oh it'll do" - the master of slap up and slap dash.
This was not a consolation. No, alas, my Rock Eisteddfod dreams were in tatters. There would be no jazz hands for me. No dramatic message communicated through a step ball change. No raging without alcohol*.
If memory serves, when the time came around for our school to show off our wares, I sat in the audience, arms crossed moodily, and, preparing to deliver my harshest critique yet, found myself completely blown away by how amazingly it had all come together. Our school ROCKED!

The set looked amazing.

*the primary message of Rock Eisteddfod was drug and alcohol awareness and the slogan was "Rage without Alcohol". Just so you know.

Writers Block.

2010-02-04T11:07:00.008+11:00

For the past 18 months, I have been both struggling with / and avoiding the plan to write a little one woman show.
I like to sing. I like an audience. I like to sing in front of an audience even more. And there is my dilemma. To get an audience to come and spend an hour or so with me, I need to show them the courtesy and respect of actually giving them more than a few snappy numbers I reckon I sing alright.
I have thought about doing an Ethel Merman tribute. An ode to Mama Cass. A show where I would sing songs from musicals that I would never be cast for called Amanda Buckley is Out Cast (yeah, clever I know). A show called "Just your Standard Cabaret Show" where I sang, yep you guessed it, jazz standards. (just being cheekily clever now really aren't I?)

I was then reminded about the time I was asked by Queen Latifah if I "could get any more white?" Um well, I mean, I AM white. And quite white. But freckly. Actually more pink than anything else. Hey, What you talkin' bout Latifah?

Wait... could there be a show in this?
And what would I sing?
I know what I could call it.
And I have someone who has even made a poster for me.
But what to sing?
I could probably tell some stories about just how white I am.
Hmm, what would make a good soundtrack to that?
And what, apart from the obvious pigmentation, actually makes a person "white"?
Is it racist for a black person to call a white person white?
Is it racist for a white person to call a black person black?
Do I feel like Carrie Bradshaw in SATC when I ask questions in my blog? (Yep! teehee!)
And really, what would be a good selection of songs for this venture?

I ask these questions almost everyday. I attempt to write about this, everyday. It's there. Somewhere. Just a little bit out of my reach.
Damn you life and your interfering ways! How dare you send me MasterChef, 30 Rock, Mad Men and The Amazing Race to distract me!!!

But seriously, who thinks they know what I should sing?

"Health kick!" or "How I became a moody so and so."

2009-12-15T08:15:00.003+11:00

It's been well over a year now, since I started taking a hard line approach to my health and fitness. Something about spiralling into my mid-thirties and my growing appreciation for fashionable clothing had lit the fire under my wobbly arse and I have really started making an effort.
Things have been going well - if appearances are to go by - but can I just say, though most will wax lyrical about all the benefits of a healthier lifestyle (and yes, there are many) no one really tells you about all the shite things.
Like how freakin hard it can be. How moody you get. Oh and what's that? Constipation you say? Well I never. Oh but yes, wait a minute, I did.
And sweat. Oh yeah no pain no gain right? Well, that pain also comes in the form of pyshcological suffering - being the smelly lady in the supermarket checkout queue for example. The red faced smelly lady. Yep, that is me, most evenings, around 6pmish.
I must admit though, I do love my smaller pairs of jeans and there is a lot to be said for the benefits of visible cheekbones.
Cheese dreams are something of a forgotten past and I have not had chocolate in God knows how long. (6 weeks, 4 days and 18 minutes).
I must say I have a Toblerone on my desk - a Christmas gift from a work colleague - and it remains in the gold wrapping a whopping 6 days since I received it. But I could very well punch someone in the face should they ask me about it. Actually even if they don't ask me about it. In general, I could just punch someone in their stupid face.
I think it's time I regift the Toblerone. Stupid Toblerone. Fancy Triangle chocolate fancy schmancy stupid face punch.

Alright one more!

2009-12-10T14:56:00.003+11:00

I am pretty proud of my hair in this photo.... it was very high. Very very high.

Photo courtesy of the fabulous Stephen Reinhardt www.sgr.com.au

And to lighten the mood....

2009-12-10T14:49:00.004+11:00

After that long post, I figure a silly one would not go astray.
Sometimes I land gigs.
Sometimes those gigs mean we get to dress up....
Can you guess who we are meant to be???
Good luck with that!

5 Weddings, 2 Christenings and a Funeral

2009-12-04T09:03:00.003+11:00

Yes it's true. My life, well, 2009 anyway, has somewhat resembled the makings of a Richard Curtis film.
I mean, the title works, the cast are in equal amounts hilarious and touching, all beautiful examples of various walks of life - with more than a few possessing pin-up looks and everyman charisma.
There were travels abroad (when the budget was more confident), there were travels interstate, for intimate adventures or grand expeditions. There were dinner table family moments and OTT party scenes, complete with lighting rigs and smoke machines.
The heroine of the piece (and for my ego's sake, can we all just pretend that I am said heroine) had highs and lows. Felt love, shared love, triumphed and failed, was humbled and grateful and has ended the year facing the right direction and in a smaller pair of jeans. Not bad.

Five weddings. Yep, five weddings. What brilliant fabulous things. Each wedding has been incredibly different and original.
The first - Matt and Kathleen, Hunter Valley NSW. Set amongst vineyards, full of music and laughter, a showcase of two wonderful people whom I met as they met - a wedding with all the trimmings and a lashing of Broadway and Disney.
The second - Mairi and Stephen, Edinburgh Scotland. Fancy schmancy and oozing class, but laced with a brilliant sense of humour. The venue was over 500 years old but the feeling was fresh and light - laughter at every turn including a rather rowdy heckling (as is tradition) of the speeches and all the guests dancing a caille - whooping it up and making the merry!
The third - Jordan and Alicia, The Vanguard Newtown Sydney. A rockstar affair. What seemed to start as a right "concert style" up on stage with lights and music and thunderous applause, quickly turned into a touching and intimate affair. Surprising and uplifting and every part them. The only wedding I have been to that had the Golden Girls theme song. The dress was "tizzy" and people did indeed dress up! What a pure delight.
The fourth - Lee and Marlo. The Argyle The Rocks, Sydney. Pure class. The dress was cocktail and it was. These two have been together for ages and it felt like a warm and glorious hug with wonderful family and friends being able to celebrate the marriage with them. Personal touches everywhere to be seen - notably a lolly banquet that could be said, will live on in many a memory. (for me, its the regret of not eating enough of those lollies - I sometimes have lolly-regret flashbacks....)

Around about now the Christenings and funeral kicked in. I know a lot of people aren't big on religion and don't see the point of a Christening or why they could be so moving. Leaving all the religion stuff to the side, these two events that I was invited to, were really special. People inviting me into their lives, their families, to be part of a community that these parents want to see support and love their new little tiny people.
It is a privilege to be at a Christening - to be singled out as important in another family's (that isn't your own) life. Not being a parent, I have no way of knowing what it must feel like to have a life entirely reliant on my own. To be responsible for, not only the tangible things like feeding and clothing this person, but to have the responsibility of their hopes and dreams. Guiding these souls into a world they eventually have to work out for themselves, armed only with the values and qualities you have helped nurture and support. Holy sh*t! It sounds terrifying!!!! So I am honoured that my friends invited me a long and I am so happy for them and their new additions. It seems there was a baby boom this year - no less than 8 little ones have been welcomed into the world by friends of mine. This makes me particularly happy.

Obviously at the other end of the life cycle is the leaving of this world. Only a month ago, my Aunty Lorrie (actually, my Dad's Aunty to be technical) passed away. She was the last remaining Hennessy girl - three sisters including my Nan, who, having lost their own Mother very young, embarked on lives full of adventure and tragedy. Just as I had during my Nan's funeral two years ago, I sat listening to tales of Aunty Lorries life. She was a real roustabout. A right proper tomboy who worked on the farm. She helped raise her eldest sister Pat's children after Pat died prematurely leaving behind four young kids and then helped with her sister Marie's kids (my Nan) after her husband died, leaving her with five young kids. She had time for everyone and let it be known, is the reason I blame for being a chubby kid, because she was, hands down, the best maker of baked dinners and caramel tarts in the land. One serving was never enough!
I am forever amazed by the lives of the members in my family and am all at once humbled by their ability to laugh and look to the future. Such tragedies should leave massive scars and yet these people who shaped me showered me with happy times. Family gatherings are brilliant business to the Buckley folk and I am thankful that their hardships made them closer and I am so very grateful to have led the fortunate life I have as a result.

This brings me to the fifth wedding. It was that perfect timing, after a loss, that reminds you life moves forever forward.
Gillian and Wade, The Painted Fish, Fremantle. Being an out of town wedding, you usually get a few people that will make the effort - this wedding was almost entirely made of guests who had happily made, well, it turns out not much effort at all. This is because it was pure joy to be there! The wedding itself was on a Saturday, but this was a four day event - starting on the Friday night and ending on Monday morning. A reunion of friends and family, its safe to say, who all truly love each other. The atmosphere all weekend was of chilled, blissful jubilation. I still have a smile on my face and warm feeling in my chest. A swell of all the right emotions and a weekend I will remember for a very long time.

Though the year has had hundreds of other events, its these eight that have made me stop and think and learn and grow.

How freaking lucky am I? And to think, I did actually start 2009 by winning the lotto! True. Sure it was not enough to buy a new car - but it did start the year with Woo and a Hoo. Pretty freaking lucky alright.

Pre Post Post.

2009-11-25T08:50:00.002+11:00

There is a post on the horizon. I just bloody well need to find my swag full of words, my typing skills and my freakin focus! Oh but its coming, yes, its coming. I cannot promise a good post, but a post I do promise.

I am sleepy. Oh so sleepy.

Neglected, rejected and dejected.

2009-10-21T14:30:00.012+11:00

When I was a kid, I dealt with rejection fairly swiftly, mostly by crying to my Mother. She would always assure me that the rejector was an idiot and that I was, quite simply put, The Best. (My Mum is awesome by the way!)

That would be enough back then. Just to be told by my Mum or Dad that I was special and before I knew it, something else would distract me and I would be feeling happy in no time.

As we get older though, it becomes increasingly difficult.

When I was a teenager, I was, it is more than safe to say, the one on the shelf. Rejection of the heart is not as easy to explain to a spotty teen compared to why you were not invited to Briget De Ferdinando's birthday party, however, my Mum would still assure me that the rejector/s were idiots and I was still, The Best.

Then I made the stupid decision to be a performer. A life BUILT on rejection. You have all heard it before, actors traipsing from audition to audition to get one damn role. I have done not too badly in my time - nothing to write home about sure, but have landed a few gigs a year, enough to keep me well flown across states and sometimes continents. Although I have had my share of disappointments.

I learnt early on, as the "average looking girl", that not only was I not destined to be in huge demand, that I would also not necessarily want many of the jobs that come my way.
Any potential part that has the description "she's a big girl but we want to love her" or "a pretty face with generous curves" or "everyday" and even on occasion "she is fat" are usually parts I have been put forward for. I am not trying to be funny here, I have seen the briefs for these parts. I am THAT girl.
Over the years I have made amends with my niche look and generally avoid anything that would probably make me feel bad. One of the ways I had combated this was to throw myself into the world of music and improvised comedy - where I can be anything I want to. Even a not-everyday-looking person - because that's the beauty of something you make up. Even you cannot really know what you are going to be endowed as, so there are no preconceptions. Just potential.
Improv has been very good for me and my self-esteem. I have been privileged and delighted over the last five years to have performed in many shows and festivals and really, rejection has not been something I have really thought about in a long time. I have gone for auditions during this time, for TV shows and commercials, those that I have been unsuccessful in I have not really thought too much on it. There seems to be no point losing sleep over it.

Until last week.

It seemed that everyone, EVERYONE was on the receiving end of an audition. Something any improviser would have loved to be a part of. Something very cool. Over three days it became clear that a heap of my colleagues, peers - friends - were called up and slotted in at a convenient time to show off their skills.

Except me.

I did not get a call. I did not get an email. I had been rejected. Worst still, I had been neglected. I was not even in the running. At first, my reaction was a tad disappointed. However as the days went by and more people seemed to be "getting the call" I became upset. Very upset. I was angry and jealous. I wanted to be happy for my friends, but my own dismay was preventing me from genuinely being able to enjoy their successes. And why should I not be happy for them? I know some of the most beautiful talented people on the planet. I really do. I would love nothing more than to see these wonderful people shine before the world.

My dark, heavy heart just would not let me.

So how, as an adult, can I deal with this? Unlike other events that have dented my self-confidence, this one has really taken a hit. I am not recovering like I used to.
What I really want to do is to throw a massive tantrum. I want to cry. I want my Mum to give me a hug and tell me that I am The Best. I won't actually allow her to call anyone an idiot, heaven forbid I ever want to work in this town again!

I can feel myself bouncing back a little bit. Just as I am writing this, I have been called by my agent with the news that I am on a "strong hold" for a TV commercial I went for. This is great news and the opposite of rejection. Maybe its true what they say about closing doors and windows opening.
Or maybe they are all idiots and like my Mum says, I really am The Best? She is probably biased though.

But she is awesome.

I scream! You scream! We all scream.....

2009-09-10T12:46:00.003+10:00

I used to get really sad when I would see a dropped ice cream cone. Both for the waste of the delicious creamy treat and the shattered child, no longer in possession of the delicious creamy treat.
What if the child only had enough money for the one ice cream? How tragic to spend your hard saved pennies only to see them melting on the hot footpath, lapped up by fat ants (fants). Worse still, what if the kid was with his/her mates and now they all stand, ice creams weighing down their porky hands, singing in unison "you've got no ice cream, you can't afford it, your mum's on welfare...." - thank you Eddie Murphy. For some reason, in my head, its always the poor skinny kid whose ice cream ends up on the ground. (I tell you, I probably would've benefited from a few ice creams not making it into my belly!) These thoughts break my heart. All because of the conclusions I draw from this melting sticky mess on the ground.

Today, I took a different approach. I saw the spilt mess and starting to frown, stopped my thoughts from going to this dark world of childhood shattered dreams. What if, work with me for a minute, what if it wasn't a kid who dropped the ice cream? What if it was an undercover cop? This cop has been on this stakeout see, for days - and this day its hot. The car he sits in all day is like an oven. Surely he can treat himself to one ice cream, to take the edge off this slow cooker that is his current place of work.
Then, just as the cop takes his first lick, THE DEAL GOES DOWN! Instantly the cop gives chase, dropping the ice cream without hesitation in hot pursuit of the crim he has been waiting for. Justice. It's worth the wait for when the judge slams down his gavel sentencing this scumbag to 20 years incarceration. The crims mother calls out from the gallery "you can't lock my baby away" ... "well maybe you shoulda taught him some manners lady" says the cop. Case closed.

Yes, I find this much more a rewarding train of thought.

Auf Wiedersehen Again

2009-08-17T13:10:00.012+10:00

I recently had a show down with Qantas. By show down, I actually mean I wrote a complaint email to them about downgrading my Frequent Flyer status from Silver to Bronze. Apparently, even though I fly more than enough to gain "status points" (these are different from actual points gained from flying, but are accumulated by the kind of ticket you buy) the fact that I choose a cheaper ticket over a more expensive "status friendly" ticket means I do not qualify to maintain a higher "status". This makes no sense to me, so I am sure I am making no sense to any of you lovely readers out there.
Anyway, this has no real point, except for this issue actually pointing it out clearly to me, that I fly a lot.
Most recently I made a very quick journey to Edinburgh so that I could be present at a friends wedding. Mairi had invited me, I think, not really believing I would make it. But I am so very very pleased to say I did. It was such a good decision to be there - and for anyone thinking about making a trip to be at someones wedding, please do. Unless of course its really financially irresponsible of you to be there or you have another very important commitment.
Being able to see Mairi walk down the aisle with her Dad, to the sounds of bagpipes was quite overwhelming for me. Our overseas friendship has lasted over a decade now, and though I had always hoped, I never really thought I would be at her wedding day. But there I was and there SHE was getting hitched and stuff in a bloody brilliant building and all. It was bloody fantastic!
Of course, it was all over way too soon and seemed we had only just said hello, caught up on the most important gossip (boys) and then it was good bye again.
Kevin from Dublin decided to take advantage of me being close by (well, close enough) and bless him he came over to Edinburgh to spend a crazy 20 hours with me. With such little time, and on the preview day of the Fringe Festival, all we could do was walk, talk about the most important gossip (boys) and see a few shows. Just like Mairi, we picked up where we last left off, but way too soon it was hugs, tears and good byes. I see a pattern emerging.
On my way home I stopped by London where I was meeting Ailbhe, who like Kevin, made the loveliest of efforts to come meet me from Dublin. No sooner had we caught sight of each other but we were straight into the important stuff. Giggling, gossip (boys), drinks and shopping - pretty much in that order. London, like Edinburgh, practically faded into the background as two friends who had way too much to catch up on and way too little time to do it, skipped and laughed and traversed these gorgeous cities.
And then another good bye. Three big big goodbyes in less than a week. Four if you count saying good bye to Susie, who really should be counted as even though I will see her soon enough, time and distance brings all the soppy emotions to the surface, and hells bells I miss that girl.
And suddenly I am back home. Fighting off the post travel missing friends from far away blues, my first job is to get to Melbourne. So that's where I was this past weekend, catching up with the boy from the gossip and generally feeling like life is pretty much freaking awesome. There were many faces this weekend, shows to get me motivated and laughs to keep me smiling and many a moment that will warm the heart should the blues come a knocking.
And then good bye again. At this stage I was really feeling a little bit "over" the whole good bye thing. I know I will see these people again. If anything, having these friendships and knowing how easy it is to maintain them has of course made the world feel smaller - but I am always missing someone.
My sister lives in Adelaide and there are days when I miss her and my nephews so much, I could just jump in my car and start driving. The alternate action is to purchase a plane ticket. I fly down there in a few weeks and so the countdown begins again. The sad thing though, is I know, the moment I arrive, I begin to anticipate the good bye. This can only mean one thing - that I will no doubt be booking a few more flights in the near future.
A very wise man (and rather handsome might I add) said to me that the great thing about the good bye is the lovely anticipation of the next meeting. The "having someone to miss" factor. There is a strange and magical comfort in this for me. I have friends to miss. I have nephews to get incredibly excited about seeing - and for them to get excited about seeing me. And I, most importantly, have brilliant beautiful friends at close hand who make life the lovely adventure it is (I don't want any of my more localised mates thinking I do not love and appreciate them!)

But, I reckon, since I have to suffer the blues associated with the good byes and get my fix of friendship by flying the skies and the jet lag and the baggage requirements and the nausea and the queuing and the waiting and the neck ache and the turbulence and the taxi fares, that Qantas should bloody hell leave my bloody status credits alone.

New Headshots! Finally!

2009-07-03T11:35:00.002+10:00

My last shot was taken in 2005 - and recently a casting agent scolded me because it was not up to date enough. (nothing like being treated like a 10yr old before an audition to give you all the confidence you need....)

So, here are my new shots. I reckon they are a pretty good representation.... dontcha think?

What a difference a 'tude makes

2009-06-22T10:29:00.009+10:00

Since mid 2001, I have been taking singing lessons. Sounds like a long time to be learning how to sing I know, and I can confidently say, I'll continue taking lessons for quite some time.
Any trained singer would probably say the same thing - just like an athlete needs to continue to train, so to does a singer. You need to master your technique, learn to apply it to different styles of music, flex the muscle, learn to be "show" ready.
One week you may have everything in your control - pitch, tone, support, interpretation, the next week you are flat, lazy, forcing the sound, in short - a mess.
So you go home and practice - breathing exercises, tilting exercises, belting exercises, exercises for support, connecting with the song - working out what the hell the song is really about. You come back for your next lesson and you have, fingers crossed, improved.
I spent years doing this. Every week though I felt good, I felt like a student and the mistakes just meant that I was learning and growing.
When I was younger, in high school, I had an incident that for the next decade silenced me and led me to believe I would never sing. My music teacher at the time had, during a performance at a school assembly, asked me to stand at the back and "mouth the words". Adding that I was flat. (Referring to my voice of course - I doubt I would ever be described as flat in any other context, something I am finally, at 33, quite proud of!)
In a strange roundabout way, this incident has actually shaped me as a singer. I really wanted to prove ol' Miss Tooth that she was wrong and get back something that I dearly loved doing up until then. When I was ready, at 26, I found a teacher who, thankfully, was exactly who I needed. Over the last few years, he has been able to mould, direct and influence my voice. When I first started with him, I was so nervous that I would sing with my back to him. He has always been patient yet demands results.
Over the years I have found my strengths, worked on my weaknesses and have slowly, but surely worked out what kind of voice I have and what kind of singer I want to be. I don't just mean that I am an Alto Belter. I mean, I know what kind of voice I have. I know where its warm spots are, where it soars, where I need to steer clear of or at least have a contingency plan for. All the things that come from being with the same teacher for so long.
Most recently, in fact only last week, I declared that I felt like a singer. I have been able to sing for a while now, but only over the last twelve months have a felt like a singer. And it has made such a remarkable difference to how I feel about everything and how I approach everything.
It may be a long time, if ever, til I am able to actually show Miss Tooth that I don't stand at the back of the choir and mouth the words anymore. But I have finally gotten back what it was she took away, as well as a whole lot more on the journey.

So now all there is left for me to do is get out of the karaoke dens and onto a real stage. Next stop - Amanda Buckley is "A Whiter Shade of Pale" ....

Too Long Between Posts!

2009-06-10T11:39:00.006+10:00

It has been a little too long between posts and I feel that, although I have tried (and failed) in the past to avoid "update" posts, there is no avoiding it this time.

WARNING - UPDATE POST FOLLOWING

Right, so -

Melbourne International Comedy Festival! This year I performed in Beaconsfield the Musical and what a wonderful experience it was. It was so warmly received and (brag alert) got some fab reviews including the coveted 4.5stars in The Age. As well as Beacy (as we affectionately call it) we got to write and perform for the open/close of Axed! and we appeared in one of the gorgeous Ali McGregors Late night Variety Night Shows ... again, what a pleasure!
Though, my personal highlight, once again, came in the form of 80's Enough - the fantastically awesome 80's cover band fronted by the one and only "Flash Dan". I was lucky enough to be invited up on stage for the closing night party at Hi-Fi Bar and sung Flashdance (What a Feeling!) I will happily carry that memory for a very very long time. Truly wonderful if not the smallest bit overwhelming - I hope everyone gets to feel such warmth and excitement from friends as I did that night. My friends, I have to admit, are probably the best out of all the friends you can have. I have not even mentioned all the great, inspiring and clever shows I got to see and see my friends in, which is rather remiss of me, so let me simply say, twas a grand month!
After Melbourne (which, given the leaving of a city I love and containing loved ones) I was incredibly thankful to dive straight into Sydney's Comedy Festival.
Susie and I were commissioned to write some live commercials for the sponsors of a Gala event. We were so proud and happy, both with our writing and performance of said commercials - how blessed am I that I can work with one of my best friends! We then went right on into our season of iMPro3 Shuffle - Suz's brainchild. Long form improvised comedy inspired by a random MP3 player taken from the audience. This is a show we love to do, mainly because it reunites us with the complete 4 Coasters - Toby Truslove and Cale Bain. We get to invite some of our favourite people to play with us and bang - we got a show!
National Theatresports time came round too, seeing our friends from Perth and Melbourne and Brisbane all drop in for some improvised good times and WAY too much drinking.
Amor and I took in the talents of Wayne Brady at the State Theatre. One talented man, and one pert behind!
With the finishing of the festivals (and the leaving of friends and loved ones yet again) I looked certain to fall into depression - but then - I flew to Melbourne. A surprise ticket to Martin Shorts one man show (Just crazy brilliant) Amazing seats at Avenue Q (WOOHOO - starring the amazing Luke Joslin) a fancy schmancy stay at The Hotel Windsor (Robes AND Slippers) made for a truly remarkable weekend. Note to self though AB - you cannot drink like you used to!
And just like that (after the saying goodbye to loved ones and friends YET again) I was rescued from the complete set of Blues by the June Long Weekend, Radelaide, My Nephews and The Cabaret Festival.
Oh my Lord. Bernadette Peters. She was everything I could have hoped she would be. I am so very very glad I went to see her, great excuse to visit my sister and her family and this time round meant I got to catch up with the Awesome Axis lads. It has also given me enough inspiration to jump aboard that Monkey driven Speedboat and make some real progress on the show I am (still) writing. I can actually see it taking shape now. Look out world. I have something I want to say. And by say I mean sing. And I plan on singing it soon!

Now, staring down the barrel of about 5 weeks of nothing much, the plan is to fight off the depressing loneliness with good old fashioned writing sessions. Right, self indulgent ranting monologues, here I come!

Possibly one of the more awkward conversations I have had to participate in.

2009-05-12T15:26:00.003+10:00

Chris writes "AB, just call me, easier to explain. My work number is 0407....."

So, annoyed that he demands I call him instead of him just calling me, I dial his digits, with what can only be described as "a bit of a 'tude".

"Hello? Hello? Nup, can't hear you..... wait.......nup. You'll have to leave a message".

WORST. VOICEMAIL MESSAGE. EVER.

So I tell him what I think in the message I leave, "That is shite. No way I am calling you again now. Shittest message ever. Not funny, just shite. You've done your dash Chris. That's the last time I call you".

Of course, to me and Chris, who I have known since I was 16, this would be par for the course message leaving. I mean, those messages are not funny. They are definitely not original. All they are, is in fact, annoying.

I email him again instead, "You're message is stupid and I will not call you again".
He writes "Aw come on AB you sourpuss. I'm free now, call me again."

I call again. Voicemail. No way. I hang up. Email again "You can call me from now on"

My phone rings. Our conversation goes like this:
Me: Hello.
Him: What do you mean my message is shit? This is my work phone.
Me: You know that stupid "hello? hello?" business. STUPID (like I said, I had an attitude)
Him: What are you talking about?
Me: What?
Him: What?
Me: Huh?
Him: What are you talking about?
Me: Well at least I have your new number.
Him: Its not new.
Me: Yes it is .... 0407 etc.
Him: No, my number is 0408...
Me: That's not what you sent in your email.
Him: HA.
Me: What?
Him: I gave you the wrong number. You dialled the wrong number.

Right then, my land line rings - the same phone that I had minutes earlier dialled 0407 from and left a message on basically saying "you are shit" with.

"Hello?"
"Ahhh yeah. I got two missed calls from this number....."
"Yeah, that was me. Sorry. I thought you were my friend."
"You left a message"
"Yeah. Like I said I thought you were my friend. Sorry. Sorry. I really do apologise."
"OK."
"Bye?"
Click.

Yeah. I basically called him shit. It was recorded. I should not have really expected the usual chit chat. Oh well. I still think his message was indeed, shit.

Wisdom of Bjork

2009-05-11T11:44:00.002+10:00

Lately, I find myself, gazing at stars
Hearing guitars
Like someone in love

Lately I seem to walk as if I had wings
Bump into things
Like someone in love
Sometimes the things I do astound me - mostly whenever you're around me.

(insert gutteral gurgling sound here).

Oh Bjork. I know what you mean......(at least I think they are the lyrics.)

Here we go again....

2009-03-25T12:39:00.002+11:00

Like most things in a calendar year, April comes around every twelve months or so. And yep, here it comes again.
I love April. I always have, but year after year, my love of this fourth month grows.

As a kid it was the fact that it pretty much meant Easter holidays - chocolate, Easter Showbags, chocolate, crisp mornings and weekend barbeque's. Basketball tournaments where I could run around with the other basketball brats, making prank phone calls from the stadium office and sausage sizzles for breakfast when my parents were manning the deck.

As an adult it started becoming that month when I began really feeling the effects of seasonal change. Those crisp mornings started bringing on nostalgic memories - and you knew the year was well and truly underway. With summer dimming rapidly out of daylight savings time, it meant time to roll up the sleeves and get down to work.

Then April, and its Easter counterpart, brought with it the Byron Bay Blues and Roots Festival. I only managed a few of these before the soon to be discussed Comedy Festival took precedence, but this festival of music and food and all round loving up is still my favourite of all the festivals and has secured it place in my heart with memories of old friends waiting in the "shower train" and eating slices of pizza while dancing in a field to our first taste of Ozomatli or Michael Franti. We would sit up late playing more music back in our rented house, drinking wine, playing cards or backgammon and laughing with such warmth and familiarity that even now, fills me with pure joy.

But suddenly came The Melbourne International Comedy Festival. This year will be my fourth and from January onwards, friends and fellow performers start counting down.... how many months, weeks, days, hours till opening night. There is all the prep work - the idea, the writing (I usually leave this up to others:) the meetings, the rehearsals, the budgeting, the advertising, the anticipation!!!! And suddenly, you have four more sleeps and its Tullamarine here you come!
Its more than the festival itself though - its reuniting with people you met last year, hung out with, got to know, actually became buddies with and you all said "see you next year" and you genuinely hoped you would.
Also, its a month in Melbourne. Not just a stolen weekend, a fly by Friday night see you Sunday afternoon thing. Its four whole weeks....and the chance to catch up nice and proper with the city. And maybe someone you might just have a crush on. Yeah, that's probably the best part. The real reason I love April so much.

Oh yeah, and there is still chocolate right?

If I had a band, and the band had an album....

2009-02-23T13:30:00.002+11:00

Thank you Lliam for making it look fancy.

I surrender.

2009-02-18T07:59:00.006+11:00

I was told on the weekend that I need to update my blog. So, here is my update.

Life has been pretty challenging for many people over the last month - half the country is burning and half the country is flooded. People in the southern states have had record high temperatures and are facing severe water restrictions. A man threw his little girl off a bridge, shocking us all, some people calling for his death - others calling for more help for clearly broken, sick people who explode in horrendous, unfathomable ways. Reading headlines over the past few weeks, many of us have felt horrified, helpless and incredibly sad.

Meanwhile, somehow, my life continued on its own little path (as I guess it does for all) - I spent New Years with someone I love, have had visitors from across the world bring smiles and laughter into my living room. I dressed up as a sheriff when my nephew turned four and drank Moet with my best friend in a nice hotel after a great wedding with friends. I spent a week performing a brilliantly clever and funny show to sellout audiences of friends and family, marvelled at the wonder and sexiness of La Clique, cheered and hurrahed for my mates new sketch show, felt more special than ever on the most commercial of days, yahoo'ed Rockwiz at the Bowl and landed a few more gigs.

In times of distress, it feels unjustified, inappropriate even to laugh or celebrate. I cannot help but think though, that in these times, its actually even more important to find something to give hope or optimism. I can not begin to imagine how devastating it is for the families of the deceased or the survivors left with nothing. I can however, be ever so grateful to have what I have, be able to help where I can and look forward to better days.

Everyday I am reminded of all the good in the world, even when it feels so dark. I am lucky. So very very lucky.

Culture Shock

2009-01-09T09:31:00.002+11:00

My workplace is an extraordinary place. It's like its own little community, with its own laws, its own hierarchy, in short, its own way of doing things.
The average age of the average employee is 54.
English is the 3rd most popular language spoken at home.
There are around 400 employees in my division and about 30 of them are female.
When I started working here eight years ago, to be frank, it was quite the culture shock.

It wasn't just the swearing. I mean, I have heard my fair share of cussing if you know what I mean, but it was well above the usual usage of certain words normally reserved for such occasions as hitting your thumb with a hammer.
It wasn't just the manner in which I was suddenly referred to as "girl". I mean, I was a girl when I started work and from all reports, I am still, a girl.(though somewhat older, I can still get away with pony tails).
It wasn't even the discovery of the piss bottle that had me raising an eyebrow. Afterall, if you worked outside all day, driving around from suburb to suburb in a truck, there are going to be times when you just can't make it back to the office for a wee right? I mean, you gotta go when you gotta go right? (though there are somethings that a girl just doesn't need to know about...)

What was the biggest culture shock for me, and still takes me aback at times, is the manner in which my co-workers feel free to comment, without censor, on my life, my looks, my everything.

Example 1.
One day I ate an apple. In fact, I have been known to eat apples from time to time as I like them. This apple eating incident was witnessed by Giovanni Santo who commented with "Ah, its good that you are on a diet. You are fat."
Ummm, not on a diet actually, just eating an apple!

Example 2.
"Amanda, I was thinking about you last night. I saw an ad for contestants on The Biggest Loser and thought you know, maybe that is your way to get on tele. You know, coz of your acting and stuff."
Did he just call me fat as well?

Example 3.
"Girl, why aren't you married?" - ummm, because I have not met the right guy yet? "No, its because you talk too much." Ummmm, thanks for that.

Example 4.
When trying to work out a nice place to go for lunch, "Lets ask Amanda, she looks like she knows where to get good food." WHAT???

Example 5.
After I turned down the invitation from a co-worker to go on a date with him, "I don't want to marry you, I just want to give you one."
Yeah, a sweet talker!

Example 6.
"Your hair looks nice"
I reply with gratitude.
"You washed it I think. It looked dirty yesterday."
Wow. Thems detective skills right there.

I could go on and on, but basically it all boils down to me being fat, unmarried, talkative with dirty hair. Though, apparently, if most of the men here were twenty years younger, well, I would need to watch out.

And on the plus side, I can say shit in eight different languages.

But still ....

2008-12-24T08:40:00.000+11:00

ALL THE BEST OF EVERYTHING FOR YOUR FESTIVITY OF CHOICE!!

I hope you have nothing but giggly, excitable, challenging and rewarding times ahead. 2008 has been a pretty crazy year for me. Much more good stuff than bad and the bad stuff, well, you cannot have good without the bad right? So here's hoping that for all of us there is a bumper 2009 ahead!

So raise a glass and have a laugh and I hope there is plenty of paracetamol close by when you need it come Jauary 1.

x Buckers

Recipe for disaster

2008-12-24T08:17:00.002+11:00

Hormones

+

Loneliness

+

Sleeplessness

+

Christmas

=

No wonder I feel like crying.

Deal or No Deal

2008-12-08T08:51:00.003+11:00

I had drinks with a great friend of mine and her girlfriend. My mate is dearly head over heels, up to her eyeballs, knock her down with a feather in love with her girlfriend, and its really lovely for her.
The best part being is that her girlfriend seems to be equally enamoured with her. So it came as a bit of a surprise - or really just something I didn't need to hear - when Kez proclaimed, "I have already told Bec, if she wants kids, its a deal breaker".
And there were those words - deal breaker.

The words themselves leave no room for compromise. Cut and dry, pure and simple, clinical and unemotional. Ok, I am not silly, something like having kids is not something you just compromise - but its the idea of the "deal breaker" that I am referring to.

When I was younger I had a few deal breakers of my own. Back then, as far as I could see, I would never be able to fall in love with a man who:

drove a ute / hotted up car
listened to heavy metal
didn't like the Beatles
really liked football (league)
heckled
had number plates that spelt out a word or phrase
had an offensive nickname

Of course, overtime, I realised that my deal breaker list was full of only superficial things that alas, I might not know until I was already well interested in the boy ... or perhaps even in love with the boy. For example, not too long ago I was faced with this dilemma - and it really wasn't a dilemma at all. I was in the audience for some stand up comedy with a man I particularly fancy, and discovered that he was a heckler. Not your run of the mill "tell us a joke" heckler, but a heckler nevertheless. It turns out though, that he was a supportive heckler, and to my surprise, I loved it. I guess I have to strike that one off the list. I would go so far as to say, that if I found out he had a secret love of The Footy Show, that I wouldn't mind ... afterall I secretly cried like a baby throughout the film "Enchanted".

I wonder though, why no one ever really says "If you are a racist, misogynist pig, then that's a deal breaker".

And just like clockwork...

2008-11-25T13:49:00.002+11:00

In six days I will be 33, and you know what that means - yep, my birthday.

My Mum rang me last night to ask me what she should get me. Twenty years ago I would have been able to list within seconds about fifty items that I not only didn't need but probably, after a few minutes, wouldn't really want. Last night I couldn't come up with anything. Not a thing. Well, certainly I do not want anything in a tangible sense. And it's not that I even want "the answers" or "meaning". I think I have "meaning" and that makes me not want to "know the answers" but it's that same old bloody story isn't it? Another birthday, another mini panic attack.

I have liked my 30's - I guess that is to say, I've liked me in my 30's. (except for the whole anger thing I mentioned in my last post...but I'm working on it so lets not get all "pointy out the facts" on me.) Its just that I cannot help but look back on the year, as one does round birthday time, and think "what have I done?"

I am starting to wonder whether my recent-ish plan to start taking care of myself, exercise more, drink less, positive thinking thing hasn't been a waste of time. After all, I am still doing the "looking back" and though I have moments of clarity (that have replaced my once drunken epiphanies) and seem to have more energy, I still have to buy those special garments that smooth and tuck and flatten the wobbly bits and seriously, what is with adult acne?

So maybe I just have to take a big fat (garment assisted) breath and resign myself to the ebbs and flows. Actually that is one thing I do know for certain, that this has been a year of high highs and lower than usual lows. But those highs - late night dinners in Chinatown, festival bars, the moments before you exit a plane to see those special someones, faces of friends laughing till they're crying and all those terrifying moments as the house lights fades and the curtains go up - oh for Christs sake Amanda, stop whining and get back to work!!!

The Lowest Common Denominator

2008-11-17T10:25:00.003+11:00

"You'll never believe what happened to me..."
"Guess what happened to me today?"
"So, I was just driving along when...."
"So tell me if I'm crazy ...."
"Why do these things always happen to me?"

On any particular day, at any particular time of that any particular day, you could probably put money on me starting a story using any one of the above lines of dialogue. These stories normally finish with :

my car door being punched in
a book being thrown in my face
me "taking my business elsewhere"
me narrowly avoiding some sort of physical harm
rude gestures and swear words
me kicking a car tyre
me getting a man fired
me calling the police to make sure that the man taking photos of my license plate cannot do anything with them.

I have spent many hours recounting tales of how hard done by I am. People in my office gather round to find out what mess I have myself in this time. Comments like "Only you" or "Typical Buckers" have been uttered more than several times. And it was only two days ago, after contemplating the road rage altercation I found myself in yet again, that I joined the dots. Did the math. Pieced the puzzle.

The one thing common in all my tales is me. Me. The lady who loses it more often than not is me. Me. I am to blame. I am the cause of all my grief. I am an angry woman. ME!

I think I have worked out what my problem though is. I actually hate confrontation. When I am dealing with my friends I am the first to concede. I apologise, accept responsibility, take the blame, feel the guilt. So much so that sometimes I do this even when someone else is entirely at fault. I would much rather do that though, then have an ongoing battle over something more than likely trivial. So when I am dealing with anyone who is not friend or family, who I have never met before, who I may never see again (except for possibly a court of law) I am mental. I am a force to be reckoned with. I am NOT to be messed with.

And it has to stop. So from today, I am just going to try being less angry with the general public. This may mean I get a little less agreeable with my mates, but I am hoping this won't be the case.

But just as a precaution, don't upset me, OK?

Rut.

2008-11-12T08:07:00.001+11:00

Yep, I am headed into one. Maaaaaaan. How annoying.

Lifes Mysteries

2008-11-10T15:30:00.002+11:00

I am daring to ask the big questions today :

If I didn't drink last night, why do I feel hungover?

Why have I got hayfever for the first time at 32?

What should I have for dinner?

Why do I speak before I think?

Why do I press send before I proof read?

Seriously, what should I have for dinner?

Why bother?

Spaghetti bolognaise it is.....

The early bird....

2008-10-28T08:46:00.008+11:00

It was indeed an elaborate plan. But it would make us millions.
Easy enough for me though, all I had to do was wait in the underground tube station, pick up the bag when it was dropped and then put the bag on the train. That was it. Simple.
Something was wrong though. The bag had not been dropped off to me yet and the train was due within the minute. I was doing all I could to remain calm but my wig was really hot and my new heels were really uncomfortable.
The train came and went, no bag. I could feel the sweat start to run down my neck - this wig was really really hot. And then I saw them. Police.
Ok Amanda, just stay calm and blend in. They don't know its you. Or did they? It was as if I had some sort of beacon that lead them to me. Bloody heels. I couldn't run. Maybe I shouldn't have hired the Marilyn Monroe costume. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Not exactly a nightmare, but I woke with a shock. It was 4:48am. After the usual calming oneself down post weird dream I started drifting back to sleep. That is until the sickening crash against my window.
Not at all groggy after that - I sat up wide awake staring at my window. Then it happened again. A stupid freaky bird was battering itself against my bedroom window. Like 6 times. It was 5:02am!!!! What is a bird doing up and at 'em at that time? The sun was not up yet!
Then of course, the bird probably concussed, fluttered about on the ledge, ensuring my rise and shininess and then, just as I had raised the courage to try and assist it, off it flew.

I have had better Mondays. Still though, I can confirm, I look pretty hot in a Marilyn wig.

Back by popular demand!

2008-10-22T12:40:00.004+11:00

Ok, so I am exaggerating when I say popular demand. One lovely person asked me to "hurry up and bloody update your blog!" and so, I am doing just that!

Its been a while and a lot has happened but I can probably only remember one or two things.

Firstly, I had a whirlwind trip across the world and back again. It started well - as in, everything was great until I tried to actually leave the country. My flight, due to a typhoon, was delayed by 9 hours, which meant, I had no chance of getting my connection from London to Amsterdam. I was impressively calm (crying for only about 15 minutes to my Mum) and organised a hotel and a new flight once I hit London. All this for only the extra cost of the hotel which was a crazy cheap $90. For London - crazy cheap.
By the time I finally arrived I had the face of a severe bee sting victim and was pretty much dazed and confused until I was met (after 38hrs travelling in total) by my wonderful friends in Amsterdam.
I had 4 days there and can I just say, if you have never been to Amsterdam, please find a reason to go there. Its a truly lovely city with more than just drugs and a red light district (though they are a pretty interesting draw card!) and just knowing that the lovely Damien lives there is enough to make this place a very special one. Damien, as ever, was the most gracious of hosts, even entertaining my need to hunt down a little comic book shop nestled in one of the residential areas. This was my celebrity sighting for the trip. I normally have one every overseas adventure. Last year it was Sam Shepherd, Liam Gallagher, Rhea Pearlman and Julie Delpy. This year, disguised with weightloss and a funky pair of glasses it was Seth Rogen. Or Rogan. Or Brogan. Anyway, you know that guy from Knocked Up? Him. Alas, due to my not really knowing his name, I chose not to say hello and instead walked out of the store saying "You know, Knocked Up? That guy. The chubby one, but he's not chubby now. Him. You know him. Come On!!!!"

After a wonderful few days I left Amsterdam to hit the ground running in dear old Dublin. And then it was 8 days of camping, rock festivalling, pinting, laughing, crying, eating, drinking and reminiscing. All the familiar faces, streets, sights.... one day of sunshine - which I managed a touch of sunburn from! - and not nearly long enough. The Electric Picnic was as ever, brilliant. Sinead O'Connor. Franz Ferdinand. The Presets. Grace Jones. Gomez. Duffy. And like a heap more that I cannot remember. There were a few hiccups though - no. 1 being toilets and the lack of them. And the lack of them being emptied. Yep. 3 days of overflowing portaloos.... sorry, but its true. This indeed dampened the spirits of (mainly female) picnickers, but somehow we carried on regardless and managed to keep smiling and dancing even when stuck in a muddy paddock for 1hr trying to leave. Ahh Ireland.
Leaving much too soon and yet feeling like I had been travelling for months, I was then back to London for some West End action, a drunken pub crawl with two British comedians, a boozy lunch at Harvey Nichols and a lot of melancholic sighing as I wished I could stay another few days.
Before I could say "where do I collect my duty free" I was back in my apartment and stuck with some jetlag and the face slap that is my real life.

To avoid post-travel blues there is only one sure fire way - keep travelling. Since I have gotten back I have had 2 trips to Melbourne and 2 trips to Adelaide. I have had nephews being Christened and nephews turning 1 and fly by gigs and joyous reunions with dearly missed loved ones.
And I had Beaconsfield the Musical. I spent one brilliant week in Melbourne for the Fringe Festival performing in Beaconsfield the Musical. It was a somewhat controversial show and managed to make headlines across Australia including a headlining possie on A Current Affair. So in a week where we were under media scrutiny and having only had 5 rehearsals, we opened and did a 5 night run to sell out audiences (ok, so the theatre only held about 30 - still, it sold out!) and rave reviews. I was so proud to be a part of it and it looks like we are going to hit the road and so some shows in Sydney, Adelaide and Melbourne in 2009! Very exciting.

Oh and I purchased a new washing machine. A brand new one. How very adult of me!

So that has been the last 2 months of my life. Very exciting. I am now possibly about to stare down the barrell of dispair as my tax bill is about to arrive and I have the rest of the year to think about how much I want to resign from my job and escape any ruts that see fit to place themselves in front of me. We'll see.

I have another trip to Melbourne in just over a week. That may stave it off a little longer. Gosh but how I love that city .... you know, except for when its rainy and cold.

A rose by any other name...

2008-09-26T07:50:00.003+10:00

Yesterday I caught a bus. I got on and scoped out a seat. There were quite a few available, though three passengers were not moving their bags in a hurry so I could sit down. And then I saw the friendly looking blue collar worker who had moved his bag and therefor was allowing me a seat.

He smiled when I sat down in that strangers on a bus kind of way.

Now, I work with blue collar workers daily. I am not a newcomer to the ways and smells of a hard days work. I was expecting, late in the afternoon, that this man, this kind man who had offered me a seat, might just be a little on the nose. I was surprised however, when the smell I was expecting to be sweat based, was urine based.

Now, I could only see in my peripheral vision, but he was flushed. In the face. His face was flushed. I took this as his shame. You know, that he knew and now I was sitting next to him and obviously knew. I felt bad. It probably wasn't his fault and now he was all embarrassed and yet, he was the only one who lifted his bag to let me sit, even though he had the best reason to not.

After one or two stops and people getting off, seats became available elsewhere. The wee smell was strong, but I felt it would only make him feel worse if I moved. I powered on. I breathed through my mouth, realising I was now eating the wee smell, I switched back to breathing through my nose which very quickly reminded me why I started breathing through my mouth in the first place. A cruel circle to be sure.

Maybe ten minutes had passed when the man spoke "excuse me, I am getting off here". I tried to make my smile look like a polite one instead of the "thank goodness pissy pants is leaving" relieved smile that it really was. And that was that. Off he got.

But the smell didn't.

It wasn't him. I now think it was the woman sitting in front of us that had gotten on at the same time as me.

And if it that were the case, there is every chance that the man sitting next to me thought I was the one emitting the odour. That I was the pissy pants. That the red, flushed face of his was only because he was trying to hold back the tears. And that he thought HE was the one soldiering on. He probably didn't even have to get off at that stop, he probably just saw it as the only chance to escape past me.

I don't know what I feel worse about, the fact that I wrongly accused a man of peeing his pants, or that he thought it was me.

It wasn't me.

Honestly.

I blame the Doctor

2008-09-22T09:53:00.002+10:00

Ever since an encounter with the BBC Orchestras recording of the War of the Worlds, I have been scared of Aliens. Seriously. They are my big fear. Velvet is my ridiculous fear. Aliens are my unreasonable.

My Dad used to play the War of the Worlds on cassette tape and I would scream and cry until he stopped. He feels guilty about it enough now, some 28 yrs later, but he used to laugh as I would freak out. I remember hiding in my wardrobe once waiting for it to end. The "Dooooo Laaa's" and Alien base guitar still make unnerve me. A few years ago, my then housemates tried to help me get over it. We bought the CD. We opened some wine. We made sure it was daytime. We laughed at the 70's disco and early electronica stylings.... but as soon as that base guitar kicked in, I turned that freaking thing off.

So when I got home late last night and started watching the latest episode of Dr Who, I should have remembered this. Instead I watched at midnight as Aliens took over Earth and although not that scary (it is Dr Who after all) I went to bed with Aliens on my mind.

What followed was 5 hours of the most horrifying nightmares. Damn freaky scary Aliens!!!!!

Give me velvet any day!

Sweet Talk?

2008-08-21T07:17:00.002+10:00

So, at 6:58am, a man I work with said -

"God, imagine being married to you... what a nightmare...."

Needless to say, I am in a super mood.

4 Sleeps

2008-08-18T14:31:00.002+10:00

4 more sleeps til I board a plane.

well, 4 more attempts at sleep.

3 more early mornings.

well, 3 kinda early mornings after I snooze for an extra half hour.

3 more days of work.

well, 3 more days of turning up.

2 more gym visits.

resulting in 2 more days I cannot walk properly.

1 more singing lesson.

well, half a lesson and half a councilling session.

1 more machine load of washing to clean the clothes I intend on packing.

Countless moments of anxiety, heartache, fear, depression, excitement and hope.

This rollercoaster is taking its toll.

Its a Small, Small World

2008-08-11T09:02:00.002+10:00

Over the past few years a pattern has been forming.
If you are important to me, chances are you live in another state or country. Of course this does not include my parents, who, lucky for me, live a nice 30min drive away. And of course this does not include all my loved friends in Sydney who I would be absolutely lost without. Or my brother, who, pending notice, can share a beer and a laugh only an hour away.
OK, let me rephrase this whole idea - if you are my sister, my old flatmates, my Irish friends, my Scottish friends, my English friends, my friends living in the States or the man I get drunk and call late at night whinging about how much I miss you (you know who you are - I hope!), then you are living in another state or country.
I am not necessarily the best at writing letters or phone calls, but where once there would have been a feeling that I had lost these incredibly important people in my life to distance and borders there is now a constant feeling of hope and excitement. I have every confidence with every farewell that I will see these people again. And its nice. A continuing countdown towards the next meeting.
This has all been highlighted again with recent trips to Adelaide and Melbourne, visits from folk from Edinburgh and Dublin and my having only 11 sleeps til I board a plane and head to the Northern Hemisphere.
Life is not too bad. Not to bad at all.
Now if I can just get better at regular phone calls .... or at least a better Internet connection for Skype.

Reasons to wear glasses

2008-08-07T09:15:00.002+10:00

1. To see.

eg. Imagine you are at an International Airport Arrivals Hall, and you might see someone you think is your friend. The friend you are there to meet. You smile. You wave. You wave again. You yell out. You are not wearing your glasses. This person is NOT your friend. You have drawn attention to yourself. You are now turning red as the person you thought was your friend is walking towards you. She smiles as she walks past as if to say "You thought I was your friend didn't you, but I am not. Ha! Ha Ha Ha!"

2. Refer to 1.

A Work in Progess

2008-08-05T12:47:00.003+10:00

My Salad Days - where did they go?

2008-08-04T12:11:00.004+10:00

There was a time, many, many years ago (30th October 2000 to be precise) when I could happily fall down two flights of stairs in an Edinburgh bar and break my ribs on the second weekend of a two month holiday and not blink an eye.
In fact, history would show that the very next night I would slip on the cobbled Royal Mile pretending to be an Olympic Gymnast (this was 2000 after all) and land uncomfortably on my back. Did it stop me from six more weeks of crazy fun? No freakin way dude.

Funny now, eight years later, I should be doubled over and hobbling after, wait for it, not falling down flights of stairs, but, and this is pathetic I know, dancing. Yes, I have jarred my back or at the very least pinched a nerve, dancing. Sure it was rock opera style and I was doing a scissor kick (well, my version of a scissor kick) across the Enmore Theatre stage at the time, but really? Dancing? Come on!!!

I have previously held the title of "Miss Skullarama 1996 - 98" and now, three glasses of Bubbles and I wake up with a headache. I never used to get sick. Like ever. Then, bang, this year I have chest pains, back pains, suspicious lumps and pink eye. What the? And these things are less and less glamorous every dose. The lump was diagnosed as a fat deposit (relieving that its not serious but hardly one for the self esteem files) and the pink eye, well, its only slightly less embarrassing than saying conjunctivitis. Thank goodness I got to see the sexy Doctor to be diagnosed with that one.

Against my better judgement (and youthful appearance) I am getting old. This is completely unfair as my hair has never looked better and I have only just started to enjoy not having to run everything past my parents. (Hey Dad, you know your tax return? Well could you do mine while you're at it?)

Still, there are advantages. 40th birthday parties are fun to plan. Especially when they involve your Irish best friend, an international destination and three years to save for it.

And I do still hold on to some of my youth - there are two and a half weeks until I hit the Northern Hemisphere and rock out at the Electric Picnic. Brilliant. Gosh how I love a countdown.

Awkward?

2008-07-30T13:07:00.002+10:00

So this guy you like makes some CD's for you and coz you like him so much you wanna listen to them all the time. So you take them to work and you put them on your computer.
And you play them out loud all day with a big fat smile on your face.

You go and make a cup of tea.

You come back to find three men standing around your desk.

Listening.

To a song that has the lyrics, "I want those Big Titties. Those Big Titties. Those Twin Cities."

Awkward?

(by the way, for those interested, the song comes from "Fame Becomes Me - Martin Short" ... and its brilliantly funny... but maybe just listen at home ....)

Universe - you cheeky monkey!

2008-07-24T11:23:00.003+10:00

I am back in the good books (with myself) again after a few weeks of being somewhat melancholy and self indulgent.
I have survived the wastelands of distance and time and have arrived at the money end of the middle of the year.
Tomorrow I fly to Melbourne for a long overdue catch up and to see Wicked. I am very very excited about this. I saw the London version and Idina Menzel was playing Elphaba and I think I wee'd a little bit with overwhelming joy and sorrow. It was amazing and I am really curious to see how the Aussies stack up.
Also, its the 4 week countdown to my trip to Europe. Well, Amsterdam, Dublin and London anyway - there are a few friendly faces I have been missing terribly there, so with that getting closer I am steadily getting my merry on.
AND to round things off nicely, I landed a commercial this week, so that will take some financial strain off the Europe trip.
All of that and the Melbourne Fringe approaching, I'll most likely wake up and Christmas will be here - I see more smiles than frowns in the future for this little punter.

Whats left to say but Hip Hip Hoooray?

Oh and one more thing

2008-07-16T14:12:00.001+10:00

Did you ever wonder, if Big used to read all of Carries columns and be a little disturbed that she wrote about him the way she did?

I often wonder that whilst writing this .... making sure I leave names out, only kinda refer to actual people or events if I think the person/people involved would rather remain anonymous, I mean, for God sakes Carrie, have some respect!

I am Woman, hear me whine.

2008-07-16T13:46:00.002+10:00

I am worried I am becoming a jealous person, so I looked up the meaning of the word jealousy. Just to make sure.

1. jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.
2. mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims.
3. vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
4. a jealous feeling, disposition, state, or mood.

The thing is, I am a woman, with a vivid imagination and a tendency to lean toward the melodramatic. I would like to think these are interesting qualities of mine and that it all adds to my allure. I would like to think that. Not everyone else does.

If left to my own devices, I will indeed imagine the worst case scenario, in which either everyone dies and I never got a chance to tell them I love them, I hate them, I was the one who stole the cookie from the cookie jar OR I die, never giving others the chance to tell me they love me, they hate me, they prank valentines day'ed me three years in a row.

So my advice to most is either be prepared for my melodramatics, or don't leave me to my own devices.

After all, I am a woman. Apparently. And this is my birth right.

(I apologise to all the women out there who fought for my right to carry on.)

Poser!

2008-07-03T14:55:00.002+10:00

Happy New Half Year

2008-07-01T14:58:00.002+10:00

Lets face it, I will use almost any excuse for a little self assessment.

In the past, I have pretty much thought that I was an easy going chilled out type of lady. Willing to roll with the punches. Phased not by change. You could count me in for an adventure. Yes. Yes. That was me. I was the "yes girl". At least I aimed to be.

Now I lay awake at night wondering when it happened that the "yes girl" became the "maybe girl" and when the "maybe girl" became the "chest pain, fat deposit, neck ache, anxiety ridden, hormone driven cry baby girl" currently invading my space?

I don't know how or what, but its time for some changes. Options - quit job? Move? Travel? A new hobby? I need a challenge and I need one quick sticks!!!!

Maybe I just need a "do"?

Yeah, thats probably it.

Soup de jour

2008-06-30T14:59:00.002+10:00

Over the weekend I made soup.
Hearty Italian Lentil soup.
I ate it for dinner.
I ate it for lunch.
Then I ate it for dinner again and today, I was having it for lunch.
Well, I thought I was.

My delicious hearty lunch, through butter fingers and fart arsing around ended up not in my belly but mainly on the kitchen floor.
As I cleaned up my mess, knelt down, paper towels in hand, a co-worker said "Did you spew up?"
No, that was my lunch before it went down. (Though, it was a fair comparison....the soup not as appetising as I once imagined....)

Resorting to some whinging and tantrum throwing, all was made well in the world by a caramello koala and a revisit to text message shenanigans. Thank goodness for my simple, easily distracted brain.

And in another update, I finally exchanged my mismatched/sized ugg boot. Now I have a brand spanking new size 8 for my left foot, and a nicely worn in -stretched and moulded size 8 for my right foot. Oh the drama that is my life!

Words of Inspiration

2008-06-27T12:21:00.004+10:00

Todays calendar quote comes from one Eric Burdon (former lead singer of The Animals) :

You've got to create a dream. You've got to uphold the dream. If you can't, then
bugger it. Go back to the factory, or back to the desk.

Hmmm, what ever happened to "If at first you don't succeed, try and try again."

I hear music

2008-06-24T14:33:00.005+10:00

Every now and then we play Spicks and Specks in our office using whatever dodgy music we can find....

Todays dodgy song "I Remember You" by Skidrow.

Brilliant.

And I am instantly happy

2008-06-23T13:32:00.000+10:00

Woah is me.

2008-06-20T11:09:00.009+10:00

Swings and roundabouts. Sunshine and lollipops. Tears and laughter. Worry and relief.
The last six weeks have seen me oscillate wildly between many a polarised emotion. I mean, if I could indulge myself some dramatics for a few minutes, lets just say its been the best of times and its been the worst of times. (I did said "indulge" and "dramatic"...)

Not to go into too much detail (because where is the drama in facts?) I have of late been wallowing in my own self pity. Thinking about rejection, the dark scary future, the lack of a dark scary future and of course, my shuffling off this mortal coil. Not that its been all doom and gloom - I have of recent times shared some of the happiest moments with people I love - from crazy Holly Golightly adventures with my sometime George Peppard, skipping through the streets of Melbourne and running through the Sydney rain, to agreeing to all-nighters of writing with Susie and crashing through our writers block, laughing ourselves silly and dreaming the big dreams.
Oh its not all bad news.

So where did all these negative musings come from? (I'll remind you of the aforementioned "indulge" and "dramatic") After way too much introspection I found myself focusing on all the rejections I have suffered. The "you're nothing like your sister" comments. The "we forgot to tell you" parties I found out about on Monday mornings. The "I really just think of you as a friend" knock backs. The "are you still fat?" queries from my agent. The "how fat?" follow ups from same agent. The "you're not Jewish enough", the "oh I got married, didn't you know", the "my ex is having a baby and I am the father" conversations. Lets just say spending too much time on these kind osf thoughts isn't great for ones emotional state.

And what with my chest pains (which have eased thanks to massage) and the lump I found in my neck (which resulted in my having to stand semi naked yet again in front of medical practitioners and have my boobs kneaded rather forcefully. NB. treat every visit to the doctors like a date. Wear the better underwear and remove excess body hair. Even if you think you are only seeing about a lump in your NECK!) have made me think "what if I die?" which leads to "one day I will die!" which leads to "what if there's nothing after all this?" and then "what would I regret?" and the inevitable "what am I going to do about it?"

Around about this time (somewhere between bottles of red wine and chocolate and dare I say it, romantic comedies - damn you The Holiday you stupid stupid movie.) I saw a man with severe disabilities walking across the road. It would have been hard enough for him to walk. You could see how much of an effort it was just getting across the road - but he was also carrying a heap of shopping. (I of course wondered why he didn't just catch a bus.....but then I was missing the point....) I thought, Buck up Buckers. You really don't have it that bad. Remember the skipping through Melbourne? Remember running through the rain in Sydney? Didn't you get to smooch a handsome charming man recently? How about when you and Susie shook on a deal and you gave her an electric shock? Hey haven't you got a trip to Ireland planned soon? A family that really love you?

Yeah I do remember all of that.

And the lump is apparently just fat. (I must remember to tell my agent!)

Ugh.

2008-06-06T09:27:00.002+10:00

I bought a new pair of slippers yesterday.

Well by slippers I mean Ugg Boots.

And by Ugg Boots I mean Peter Alexanders Home Boots.

And by bought I mean invested.

And by that I mean they are not exactly cheap.....but they are cute and funky and heck, I wanted them.

So I put them on as soon as I got home. I danced around my bedroom in them. I danced around the loungroom in them. I mopped the floor in them. I put the rubbish out in them. I spilt tea on them. And then I noticed....

THEY ARE TWO DIFFERENT SIZES. The right is a comfy size 8. The left is a roomy size 10.

But its too late now, I cannot take them back as I have clearly, in the course of one night, worn them in.

Ugh.

Pass the paper bag please.

2008-05-28T14:59:00.003+10:00

I just got an email from Susie - "Fringe applications close June 13th" - and just like that my breath has been knocked out of me.

When did I become so anxious? I mean, its usually as a result of something exciting about to happen, but still, I could do without all the panic attacks.

Looking back on past posts, I can see them all lined up - anxiety over travel (to exciting destinations where friends and adventures await), over shows (that see happy revellers laughing and enjoying themselves at festivals around the country), over my job (which pays the bills, serves the community and gives me paid leave for things like the travelling and the shows), over men (who surprise me romantically on my birthday and give knee trembling kisses and reasons to grin like a foolish fool) - its a little disturbing.

And what with the long weekend coming (the man), August around the corner (the travel) and the Melbourne Fringe festival (we should really start writing that show) I am not sure my nervous system can survive all this good fortune!

AND WHY DO I STILL HAVE CHEST PAINS???????

24

2008-05-15T11:35:00.002+10:00

After a crazy month long countdown, there is only 1 sleep to go.

24 more hours to wait.

I am already crazy nervous and excited. Too much anticipation perhaps? No, just the perfect amount.

Happy Birthday Flash!

A heck of a lot to smile about

2008-05-07T14:47:00.002+10:00

This is one of those posts that is all about me reminding myself how good I have it and to stop whingeing and moaning like a old whingey moaner.

So here is what is going on in my little world that turns my frown upside down (and distracts me from my annoyingly still present chest pains - damn you medicine!!!!)

Susie and I are making our Comedy Channel debut this week when a Gala we performed in is being aired. We did about 5 minutes of material and then sang our song about premature ejaculation. I am both full of bliss and dread - my parents are going to hear the song for the first time. Oh my.
Scrabble Unscripted had its crazy successful swansong a few weeks ago. It was sad to say this current goodbye to a show that launched us into the festival scene and saw some very important relationships, both personally and professionally, develop. It was a huge show and a fitting send off - something I know us Scrabblers are very proud of.
I have my very own stalker (hi Paul!) which is very exciting. By stalker of course I don't mean in a creepy, intrusive, scared to put out the rubbish kinda way. More in a google search, post a comment, friends on facebook kinda way. See, nothing wrong about that right?
There is only just over a week until I am Melbourne bound and in the company of my favourite gent to celebrate his birthday. 9 sleeps. I am very very excited!!
To help with the wait until my Melbourne visit, I have been and am about to be visited by Melbourners....so lovely to see faces from happy times in my home town. I have had a weekend of smiles with Ben McKenzie who cannot help but make the world a lovelier place and this weekend I am joined by Janelle Koenig - my personal style guru (thanks to a VERY successful shopping day full of laughs and charges to my credit card.)

So with so much to smile about, how can I let a little thing like my potential expiration from chest pains worry me? I mean, if I go, I go with a lot to be happy about....and you all know I love you right? Right? Well, buck up then Buckley and get ready, you've got a house guest coming in two days and an empty fridge, not to mention a load of washing to get through, running the vacuum over the flat wouldn't be a bad idea either ... now stop you're moaning and hop to it!

Shirley You Can't Be Serious?

2008-04-30T10:04:00.002+10:00

Last night I fell asleep while playing "Shirley Bassey Love Songs". Instead of having lovely dreams about love and romance or intrigue and espionage (as would be the theme of many a Bassey song) the impact of the Shirley was much more subtle.
In every conversation I was a part of in my dreaming state last night, I found I could only communicate in a Shirley Bassey belt.

I may just try it in the daylight - I mean, that woman knows how to pronounce a T and a D and a little bit of vibrato never hurt anyone right?

Karma

2008-04-24T12:50:00.004+10:00

"Hey how are you?"

"well, thanks, how are you?"

{Insert sneeze here}

"Sick." she pulls a tissue from somewhere under her bra strap, blows her nose and tucks the tissue into her bra again. "What can I get for you?"

At that moment I should have said "nothing. You can get me nothing. Your healthy co-worker over there though, well he can make me a toasted chicken cheese and avocado sandwich thanks."
But I didn't. I placed my order with her. And she, being the diligent sandwich maker she was, made the sandwich. She stopped to sniff, and then put the sandwich in the press.

"Thats $8.50".

Wow. An expensive sandwich. The avocado cost extra and the toasting cost extra, I wonder if she also charged me for the terrible bout of illness I will surely suffer within the next few days.

As she hands me over my germ ridden lunch, I say "Thanks, hope you feel better."

She sniffs once more, "Thanks. I think I will go home now."

Damn. If only I had not pushed the little old lady out of the way to get my lunch first.....

Bloody karma!

Its getting better all the time...

2008-04-18T13:48:00.002+10:00

On the weekend I am going to the Christening of the son of an old school friend of mine.

I am really looking forward to sharing the day with him and his wife and I have kept in relatively good touch with Chris, although mainly by email. I am a little nervous though, as I imagine two of the guests will be my ex-best friend who I used to think I was in love with, and the girl he knocked up when we were possibly embarking on the beginnings of a relationship.
This was years and years ago now, there have been a lot of tears, some angry episodes, heated discussions and avoidance's since, but its been a while since I have seen them. They have had a son, broken up, gotten back together, broken up, gotten engaged, planned a wedding, cancelled a wedding, broken up and gotten back together in that time...
If you had of asked me five years ago would I still want to be with him, the answer would have been a stupid yes. Nothing could be further from the truth now.
I was devastated for such a long time by it when it all happened, and I know people have gone through a lot worse, but I really felt like I would never find anyone remotely like him.
I hope that's true. I never want to find anyone remotely like him. And I could not be better for having gone through it all. As a result of my heart being broken, I vowed to just "go for it" and found myself singing, travelling, improvising, laughing, dancing and being HAPPY. All of this AND my heart has fluttered again....good good times indeed.
However, like any female, I have begun to get a little nervy at the thought of seeing the two of them again - I asked a mutual friend ".....how does she look?" (Like ANY female!) My friend replied "Oh you have NOTHING to worry about. She's packed it on." (Like ANY good friend).

Its incredibly shallow of me I know and I hope one day to grow out of this, but I'm now looking forward to seeing her.

Is that all there is????

2008-04-16T08:13:00.002+10:00

Its over. All that anticipation, preparation, excitation....and now? Nothing.

The Melbourne International Comedy Festival 2008 has been and gone.

In 2006, a little show called Scrabble Unscripted went down to Melbourne for 6 shows only. We were so wide eyed and full of wonder. We partied til 5am EVERY morning and flyered our hearts out and finished our week knowing we would be back but that the next time we would stick out the entire month.

In 2007, we came back. It was a hard slog. The daily flyering, the nightly parties, the nervousness, the fledgling romance....a pretty overwhelming month - so tiring but so completely rewarding. I have some of my most favourite memories from that month. Rehearsing dance moves for Flashdance, singing to a room bursting with people dancing on tables, riding a Ferris wheel with a few hundred people cheering me on, getting our first 4 star review, being kissed by my festival crush and then walking into a telegraph pole..... bliss.

And now, 2008, its all over for another year. We worked really hard this year - I did 3 different shows totally 30 performances. There were great nights, good nights and nights I have wiped clean from my mind....so many friendly faces I was happy to see again, new friendly faces I look forward to seeing again and so many new memories that make me instantly smile, giggle and even a little teary. Ahhh, my Melbourne love affair continues.....bring on 2009.

Things that make me go huh?

2008-03-12T15:10:00.002+11:00

I normally work in maintenance depots. These are usually demountable style buildings in the middles of yards filled with trucks, aggregrates, dirty men in dirty work clobber. You know, maintenance depots.

Today however, I am working out of head office in the City. So this is a more corporate environment, there is a dress code, people don't seem to hold meetings around the smoko bin, and there is considerably less swearing.

What should disturb me then? Here where the seats are not covered in unidentified stains, that given I work in the sewer industry, could actually be excrement.
Well, what I find disturbing is the massive "how to wash your hands" posters in all the bathrooms.
Seriously.
1) Using soap dispenser, place a small amount of soap on your hands.
2) Turn water on and lather soap into your hands.
3) Rub hands together to remove dirt and germs.
4) Rinse, from fingertips to wrist, the soap from your hands.
5) Turn water off.
6) Using a hand toll from hand towel dispenser, dry hands.
7) Dispose soiled towel in bin.

What is the world coming to?????

Alexander Graham Bell, I salute you!

2008-03-11T13:38:00.000+11:00

My 3 yr old nephew Jackson called me last night.
It was pretty much the best phone call I have ever had in my life. We talk on the phone quite a bit, but this was the first time he has requested to call me.
He got a new car.
Its silver and very fast.

I reckon it sounded pretty cool myself.

So thank you, Mr Bell.

Note to self:

2008-03-03T14:25:00.004+11:00

If and when I start to feel all whingey and whiney and woe is me, remember how I feel right now....pretty bloody happy.

Why?

Happy weekends away, The Supper Inn, Spaghetti Bolognaise, Rare collectables still in their original "touch me" packaging, The Mighty Boosh, Tanqueray, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, fine dining and great red wine (followed by superb dessert wine) and guilt-free extra serves of Belgian Chocolate Sauce.

Thats why.

News Flash?

2008-02-23T00:37:00.001+11:00

Is it just me, or is Billy Elliot just a remake of Flashdance?

I mean, the audition scenes are almost identical, and sure Alex was a Welder and Billy was the son of a Miner and well, Alex was a stripper of sorts and well, Billy a school kid - but come on!!!

COME ON!!!!!

And the (heart) beat goes on....

2008-02-20T13:33:00.002+11:00

OK, so I am still alive.

I went to the Doctors last week to check out the weird heart/tingles/neck pain that has steadily continued though more neck and arm pain than heart nowadays. Of course, just to be safe, I was sent for an ECG which is where they stick all the things on your chest and check your heart out.

Anyway, not having had one before I was expecting to have to go shirt off, but when I commented on the fact that "I should have worn my best bra" the woman in charge politely said I would be losing that too.

So, standing topless and having the likes of electrodes strapped to my torso was not exactly the way I imagined Valentines Day this year - but I did get a bit of a feeling up when my breast was lifted up (without warning or consultation) so a sensor could be placed there. Yes, the joy of the ample bosom.

Of course it should have been a quick procedure, but instead, as I was meant to be having the sensors removed the woman noticed something was not right, "Oh, my left is your right.... sorry I will have to start again" ... and the boob is touched yet again without warning.

Finally she has it sorted its, underway and then its over, but not before her daughters engagement party photos are presented to me and explained in full "Roses were just too pricey this close to Valentines Day", while I am still topless, pretending to be cool about it, waiting for the sticky spots to be removed.

The following day was less eventful, neck x-rays. Of course I still had to go topless, but they were nice enough to give me one of those tissue-like robes to wear.

I should find out what the hell is wrong with me tomorrow.

All that aside however, I was made incredibly happier by a wonderful weekend complete with an unexpected visit, a kinda swanky hotel stay, a joyous get together with dazzling city views, a smooch or two, a lovely wedding sneek-peek, brunches, coffees, gossips and beers.

A good weekend for sure.

I know its Valentines Day, but this is ridiculous!!

2008-02-14T10:44:00.002+11:00

Love. A welling in the chest. Heart skips a beat. Butterflies in your belly....Tingly sensations all over.

OR

The first signs of a heart attack.

Just to be sure, I am off to the doctors to rule it out.

Seriously.

Like am I destined to be a spazz all my life?

Example: I used to think I could see peoples auras. Really. I did. But then, and this is honest to goodness truth, I had my eyes tested and it turns out it wasn't peoples auras, it was just that everything was just a little blurry.

Also, I once had to pretend - for 30 days - that I was deaf in my right ear on a Contiki tour because I made the mistake of ignoring someones conversation and then used the excuse that I was deaf in one ear and so didn't know that they were talking to me. Too late did I notice the hearing aid of the guy sitting next to me.... that was one looooong month.

So, since the weird pain in my chest and the ever so slight tingly feeling in my arm has not gone away, I shall rule out anything serious.... after all, I could just be lifting too heavy weights perhaps. I mean, I read about a guy today, 570kgs - now how come he doesn't have a weird pain in his chest huh?????

HUH???

2 weeks and 6 days

2008-02-08T15:27:00.000+11:00

or

20 days

or

480 hours

or

28800 minutes

or

1728000 seconds
oh no I mean 1727999 seconds
1727998
no 1727997
um 1727996
nope 1727995...
you get the picture.

I'm feeling a little:

2008-02-04T11:40:00.000+11:00

alert, anticipative, anxious, awaiting, breathless, eager, hopeful, hoping, in suspense, looking for, on edge, on tenterhooks, prepared, raring, ready, vigilant, waiting, waiting on, watchful

well, at least thats what the thesaurus tells me. Hmmm.

In Celebration of:

2008-01-29T13:31:00.000+11:00

* Fresh bread rolls for lunch. Thank you Mr Bakery-Man (or Woman) for your baked goodness, all crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

* Cabaret shows performed by friends which rock the audience and impress my parents.

* New Kids On The Block reforming perhaps. NO MORE GAMES BOYS!

* Men who have been pretentious since 1998. Ain't no changing those leopards spots.

* Nephews who turn 3.

* Co-workers lending you awesome CD's. (that you wouldn't burn because its wrong.)

* Scary nightmares that make you wake up and realise you are safe and warm and happy in bed.

Hip Hip Hooooooray!!!!!!

Let's Hear it for the Boy!!

2008-01-15T09:34:00.000+11:00

Susie and I were witness to something very very very special the other night. We were lucky enough to be ticket holders for a Sufjan Stevens gig. Concert. Show. Celebration. Experience. Thing.

I have been a part of many a special musical moment - Jeff Buckley playing at the Coogee Bay Hotel to around 500 people, Rufus Wainwright playing acoustic to 100 people at the Seymour Centre, Michael Franti hugging an entire audience one by one at Byron Bay, MC Hammer at the Entertainment Centre - really really special moments in music....but this was something else.

Sufjan Stevens makes you smile. Laugh. Hug. Weep. Love. Mourn. The whole kit and caboodle ... and he can hula a hoop like no other man I've ever seen.

If I could find more words I would use them to just continue to rave and rave and rave! Alas, words fail me. All I can really say is that the world is a much more beautiful place with Sufjan in it.

So come on and hear the Illinoise!

Amanda went to the mosh pit (and didn't even get a lousy T-Shirt)

2008-01-10T14:35:00.000+11:00

But boy, do I have some bruises.

Last night, I, along with my mate Heather, braved the teenagers and went to the Kings Of Leon concert. My god were they good. Just brilliant. They have all the makings of a really massive rock band, and, thankfully, none of the stadium arena fan fare. Just four guys, guitars and drums and a heaving room of happy punters.
We found ourselves, with relative ease, pretty close to the front and in the middle. There was almost a view to the stage - apart from the girl in front of me who insisted on filming the entire show on her phone which meant that really, she missed the entire concert.
There was a lovely older guy (had to have been 30 at least) who allowed Heather and I to slip in the wee space in front of him, of course he then thought this allowed him to feel us up under the guise of "can you see? Are you getting hit? Here let me just touch your boob" ... you know that kind of thing. Maybe not so lovely?

All in all, I have to say, the live, moshy experience is an unparalleled mix of joy and pain. Its fun and crazy and hot and stuffy, smelly and sweaty and electric and adrenalised. There will come a day that I will be punched I am sure ("Yeah well the sign says no smoking, so please extinguish it or I will be forced to report you to those guards over there young man") or maybe throw one myself ("what part of stop whipping my face with your ponytail do you not get lady?") but in the meantime, while I still have at least a little kick left, I will still try and "get to the front" and rock out.

I have one complaint though, I understand they have two types of T-Shirts at merchandise counters that usually go like this "MENS: S M L XL XXL" and "GIRLS: 8 10 12" .... Well I am a woman. WOMAN. I am not a girl and I am certainly not a man. But sometimes, just sometimes, I want to buy a T-Shirt. SO WHY WON'T ANYONE LET ME??????

Yeah, rock n roll!

Thank God I'm Here.

2008-01-07T08:54:00.000+11:00

I was nearly killed in the early hours of this morning.

In a weird artwork-over-bed accident, my sleep was well and truly interrupted and I narrowly escaped serious harm. I narrowly escaped potential cuts and bruises. Somewhere between a wee fright and death. That is what I narrowly escaped.

You can imagine then, the crazy things that I have been thinking about. What if I had not have had a nightmare about spiders with huge extendable legs and so had not woken just in time to sit up and catch the large wooden frame that fell off the wall? I think I will buy some new pyjama's and clean my bedroom just in case. In an emergency, no one has time to clean. Or put on something flattering.

And now that I have looked death (well, possible cuts and bruises) in the face, I feel the need to make every moment count. Of course spending my time at work and posting blogs is not necessarily reflective of the "making it count" mentality but you know, maybe I will buy that airfare and ticket to Ireland for the Electric Picnic? And maybe, just maybe, my epiphany will be realised by many. Or at least two.

Its a slow release spontaneity, but its there.

Epiphany.

2008-01-02T14:19:00.002+11:00

I've had one. And it felt good.

PC or not PC.... was there even a question?

2007-12-21T10:55:00.000+11:00

I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.
I will not let them spoil my day.

Count to 10. Breathe......

So after asking the alpha males of my office to tone down the blatantly slanderous remarks referring to any religion that failed to "just accept that Christmas is our culture and they should just shut up about it already" (yes, that's verbatim folks), I was fairly confident that I had voiced my objections to any particularly racial, discriminating or marginalising opinions.

I thought.

I am left wondering then, at what point MY MANAGER thought I might enjoy some rather distasteful jokes? I am talking REALLY offensive. Like even David Brent would have known to keep these ones to himself.

And when my reaction was to say that I thought he was both inappropriate and unfunny, why then did he need to keep telling the jokes to others to see what they thought?

Have I stumbled into the '70's by accident?

Still, tis the last day of work before some fun happy times with family and friends and countdowns to good good times indeed. So I will not let them spoil my day.

Happy happy festive season everyone - and here's to a cracker 2008!!!

The Tonne.

2007-12-20T08:19:00.000+11:00

This is exciting. This is my 100th post.
I figured I should make it special, but then realised I should have something to say in that case... and I don't really have anything to say. So then I thought maybe I should wait until I had something to say before I went ahead and wasted this momentous occasion by just writing a lot of words.
But that would not be like me at all.
So here it is. The century. The big 1 0 0.

Quite the anti climax really.

On a brighter note however, I am feeling incredibly blessed and lucky and somewhat happy right now. I mean, a lot of people get a little stressed this time of year, even depressed, I have in the past felt that way. This year however, I am looking around thinking to myself, Ms Buckley, take note - you have a wonderful group of friends, a fantastic family and you have been lucky enough to have some amazing heart flutterings this year.... smile and enjoy young lady..... and so, I am.

Merry Christmas everyone.... take care and have fun!!! Xx

Clock watching....

2007-12-14T10:22:00.000+11:00

I am being a very naughty employee today.
Only working a half day as it is, that should mean I knuckle down, get stuck into it, tick things off the list.
I have had 6 cups of tea. 6. Its 1030am. That's mental. 2 biscuits (standard), made 2 personal calls, sent 4 text messages, checked 3 bank accounts, read 3 blogs, commented on 2 blogs, sent 14 emails, chatted, daydreamed and started planning for the arrival of my dear friend Caomhan. Yay.
With only half an hour left in the office for the day, surely I cannot start on a project now....I wonder what bargains are on Amazon today?

Blank me in the morning....

2007-12-12T07:54:00.000+11:00

I am sleepy but very happy this morning thanks to the first in the new round of performances of Blank! The Musical.

We had a full house, a happy ready for action audience and a cast that was damn excited to be together again.

Impro has been a bit of an up and down for me over the last few months - mainly up - but you know, sometimes a trying experience that has me wondering if I will be doing it for much longer - but when you get to jump up and sing and do silly things with a cast of friends and people clap at the end, well, you fall in love with impro all over again.

Thank you Blank! ("Lets show the world the great big Wang inside.....")
I cannot wait to take this show to the Melbourne Comedy Festival.

Happy Happy Days

2007-12-05T09:18:00.000+11:00

I had a birthday on the weekend. My 32nd. Life is good. Very good. I am smiling. A lot. There is a lot to smile about. Remind me of this the next time I post a whingey blog.

I think its going to be a good year.

And for the record, surprises are good. Very good. Incredibly good. Like totally AWESOME.

I can feel a list of "top things for '07" coming on. But not yet..... though the weekend that just was will be on the top for sure.

Hip Hip Hooray indeed!!!!

Highs and Lows

2007-11-16T08:36:00.000+11:00

The day started badly.

A cockroach decided to share my shower. It was a disturbing five minutes.

Ten minutes into my 1.5 hour drive to work I realised there was a piece of glass on my shirt which was cutting my arm. Nice.

Then.... Buddy Holly (Weezer) was played on the radio. Even though I can listen to this song whenever I want to, there is nothing as joyful as the spontaniety of a radio station playing one of your favourite songs. Maybe this day would not be so bad afterall.

Then the coffee machine at the service station I stopped in at to stop, revive, survive BROKE on me mid-latte.

An unfair balance of lows at only 7.45am.

Hit me with the highs Friday. Go on. I dare you to!

Old Man Radio

2007-11-09T09:36:00.000+11:00

What is it with the average office and the middle class white male in his 50's who forces us to listen to his "shock jock talk back" radio stations?

Just to annoy him, I have taken to singing happy birthday to everyone that says good morning to me today.

Its working.

And its also putting me in a pretty good mood.

.... Things are looking up.

Perfect timing...

2007-11-08T13:37:00.000+11:00

So the text message reads:

"Have you started thinking of your next trip up north? I'm thinking somewhere fabulous in Europe together also...."

Should I? Could I? Quite probably!

(breathes into the paper bag....)

Then my phone rings :

"Hey, I phoned you by accident....but hey! Have a great day..."

And with that, my day is made.

(puts the bag in the bin - wait - its paper - recycle.)

Blah.

2007-11-08T08:59:00.000+11:00

I could not get out of bed this morning. I just did not want to. Not through lack of sleep - actually for the first time in a while I had a long, deep, fitful sleep. No, I was very wide awake and just did not want to leave my bed.
Previously in my life, when I have felt this way, or if I cried in the shower, it was time to resign. I have had something like 18 jobs in my 17 years of employment - and the last 7 years have been spent with my current employer. The only thing I have stuck to longer than this job was school - which was obligatory, and being a Buckley, which, while enjoyable, has been unavoidable.
Now that I have some sort of history here, the previous manner in which I disposed of my jobs cannot be used. I have rent to pay. I am accustomed to a standard of living. I am debt free. So why would I chuck it in.
I had a panic attack yesterday. Now, it could've been because yet again I have decided to take another month off work to head to Melbourne and the Comedy Festival and I even purchased my airfare. But that shouldn't have been it. Thats fun stuff right?
And work is not that bad. I mean, here I am, happy with the fallling rain (profits perhaps?) up in the Northern Beaches, posting a blog entry instead of working. Thats not too terrible is it? And most of the people are lovely. The few that are not, well, they are kinda entertaining in an annoying way and can actually spice the day up with ridiculous behaviour.

So why did I have a panic attack and whats this pain in my neck that is not muscular - all I'm saying is, it might be a clot. And it might be travelling to my brain. And if I die unexpectedly, will I regret not resigning today???????

Can someone pass me a paper bag please!

PM for PM

2007-11-06T13:17:00.000+11:00

I heard this on the radio this morning, and I think it was both pretty funny and dead on the money.

There is a festival in Port Macquarie, a town on the northern central coast of New South Wales (near the holiday destination of my childhood - Laurieton, where my Dads Aunty Laurie lived. No lie. I thought the town was named after her. It wasn't. But still. I mean, imagine if it was. I would be great niece to THE Laurie of Laurieton. Anyway, its just a coincidence.)

I digress.

What I found amazing was the radio announcer explaining why it was going to be an awesome festival -

"Its in Port Macquarie. Which sounds like Paul McCartney. And everyone loves the Beatles."

Yes they do. (and if they don't, they are probably lying.)

I knows what I nose.

2007-11-02T09:00:00.000+11:00

For the second day in a row, I have driven through a suburb that smelt entirely of body odour. ENTIRELY OF B.O!

Once is an anomaly surely, but twice? Come on St Marys! Have a little bit of pride!!!

Spooooooky.

2007-10-29T10:14:00.000+11:00

I am a little disturbed. Maybe its due to the recent bout of fabulously fun and scary impro I was lucky enough to be audience to, but yes, I am definitely disturbed.
Over the weekend, I managed to somehow end up with foil in my eye. Foil. METAL! And even just writing about it is making my stomach churn. It completely freaked me out. I was actually putting in eye drops at the time and then, feeling more than a little discomfort, I faced the mirror to see a silver thing ON MY EYEBALL. Thankfully I was treated to calm assistance and comforting throughtout the ordeal and the foil was removed with nothing more than minimal scratchiness....but I am now haunted by it. I have had dreams the past two nights about my eyes being pierced or things (well, insects in particular) crawling in them - and every time I look in the mirror, I remember the vision of the metal just sitting on my pupil.(This is where I blame the Halloween themed creepily brilliant Mr Fish and his spooky library of Impro Macabre). Its actually starting to make me feel ill.
Which also reminds me, after a wonderful Melbourne weekend, I was lucky enough to be sat on the plane behind the guy who vomits all the way to Sydney.

Like I said...spooooooky.

Playing in the garden of Eden

2007-10-25T08:57:00.000+10:00

Its been an interesting morning.

At approximately 7:28am this morning, in an office in the outer outer suburbs of Sydney, a man, who I have never met, asked me if I wanted to have sex with him. I kid you not.
Admittedly, it was not so much an actual invitation as a proving of a point on his behalf.
Let me explain.
There is a gentlmen here who is expecting a child. Well, not him, but his wife. Anyway, there was a discussion in full swing as I sat down at the desk between two men, regarding which gender was easiest to raise.
As if I was not in the room, the men proceeded to explain that females are not only impossible, but also emotionally, physically and pyschologically unreasonable. Hands down, in the opinions of these two gents, males are without a doubt easier to raise, "coz with girls you gotta put up with all the PMS stuff and worry about teenage pregnancy".
Now me being me, I could not remain silent for long. So I may have interjected with the question of how does teenage pregnancy occur and surely there is a responsibilty to educate boys and girls equally etc etc etc.
This was when one of the men walked up to my desk, put his hands on his hips and asked, "Well, do you want to have sex with me now?"
Ummmmmmmm.
"Exactly, guys are always gonna ask, but its up to the chick whether or not he gets to play in the garden of Eden."
Ummmmmmmm.
"I think I have made my point."
Ummmmmmmm.
"Are there any biscuits?"

I am in a much better mood today than I was yesterday.

A.F.D ... why bother.

2007-10-24T10:57:00.000+10:00

So I decided it was time for another A.F.D (alcohol free day) ... what with the big weekend...the wetting of the babys head -oh, its a boy!!! Harrison Green- an engagement party, you know, stuff where drinks are drunk.
SO Monday was A.F.D time.

So why the hell did I feel like I had a hangover on Tuesday?

Geography

2007-10-19T10:13:00.000+10:00

As I type this, my sister Deb is in labour. Pretty amazing really. The thing is, she lives in Adelaide and I am here in Sydney.
It was the same when she had her first child, Jackson. I will spend most of the day staring at my phone, waiting.
Geography is cruel. By rights, as a sister (in the way that we are actually sisters, not clenched fists in the air kinda "I hear you" sisters, but actually sisters) I should be sitting in the waiting room at the hospital drinking coffee or tea and ready to burst into tears when my bro-in-law Kym, comes out and tells us "Its a ...?" and then we all hug or something. I don't know what would happen though, as I have never sat in the waiting room.
Similarly when my brother Anthony and his wife Alison welcomed their son Rohan into the world, it was in Wollongong. Again, there was no waiting room experience.
As I may possibly be the old maid Aunt my mother keeps warning me I am on my way to becoming, I feel I have been robbed of these experiences. The possible future story-telling, nephews/nieces on my knee, hanging on every word, "Now, when you were born, we all waited for hours and then....."
Instead, all they will get is "Oh, I was online posting a blog about me me me me and me when you were born. Yes, thats right, your birth reminded me about all the things I miss out on....." which is both self indulgent and most probably not exciting at all for the child.
See, proof that geography is making me a bad Aunt.

DAMN YOU GEOGRAPHY!!!!!!

All my dreams....?

2007-10-11T10:45:00.000+10:00

When I was a kid, around 8 years old, my friend, Anita, and I would play "secretaries" in which we were two very highly competent secretaries for two very important bosses. We would have an office each (separate ends of the lounge room/bedroom/back yard etc) and we would meet at coffee breaks and lunchtimes to discuss the intricacies of our office life.
We would answer phones, take messages, arrange catering and type up important letters and memos. Sometimes, because our bosses were so busy, we had to organise their wives birthday presents or flowers for forgotten anniversaries. It was high pressured stuff, but very rewarding at the end of the hour when Anita and I would meet in the kitchen for iced vo vo's and cordial.

So, now I am all grown up, work in an office, answer phones, take messages, organise catering as well as very important things like analyse data. I got to meetings, training courses, organise Christmas parties or farewell barbeques. Its almost exactly what I pretended to do as a kid.

So why don't I feel like all my dreams came true?

Moving on up!

2007-10-04T09:11:00.000+10:00

Yeah thats right! You heard it. Amanda Buckley is moving on up!

"But how do you know you are moving on up Amanda?" I hear you all asking.

Well, because I was recognised last night, thats why.

I was at the gym, where I had decided that I would not be the prudish scaredy cat, locking myself in the toilet to merely change a t-shirt! No! I would be an adult and just use the change room like all the other women.

So, I'm at that moment when I am pulling the clingy, sweaty work-out shirt over my head when I hear:
"Oh I know you!"
My head is somewhat stuck in the shirt and my arms are above my head, leaving this woman talking to my boobs.
"Yeah, Amanda right? I saw your show last night. It was great. Good work. We'll definitely be back."

And my head is free in just enough time to smile and say "hey, thanks."

So yeah, looks like I am going places.
Like back to the toilets to get changed.....

Amanda Buckley

2007-09-28T11:09:00.000+10:00

I am sure I am not the only one in the world who has googled themselves. I do it often as Amanda Buckley is a fairly common name and getting through all those thousands of results can take some time. I think I am up to page 98 or something.

The google results though have changed recently and I was more than a little unsettled by it. An 18 year old American girl, who I had noticed in the past google searches had made a fairly huge impact on the soft balling world was recently murdered.

For years when I had hit "search" I had seen her name appear in sports columns, blogs, school newsletters etc, all noting her great achievements. Today however, the search noted the events which tragically and horrifically have cut her life short.

Instead of skimming past the search results as I would normally do, today I took the time to read some things about Amanda Buckley. She seemed like a really great girl. A talented soft baller who had won a full scholarship to college. Her teammates said she was always lifting their spirits and even making their opponents laugh. She was an only child who meant the world to her parents.

I never would have met her. I would never have known anything about her. She would never have made an impact on my life. But for the very fact that we share a name. I cannot help but feel touched by her life and saddened by passing of it. Such a dark ending for such a bright light.

A month of sunshine and lollipops!

2007-09-20T10:19:00.000+10:00

My big trip has officially come and gone. One month of fun and laughter and travels through the glorious cities of London, Edinburgh and Dublin with some of my dearest friends popping up along the way.
The events of the last month are too many and varied to document, but I figured there would be no harm in listing (how much fun are lists) some highlights or at least moments that are both worth remembering and sharing....(and to help me forget about the man that just yelled at me and nearly NEARLY made me cry...its the jetlag I swear!)

- Seeing Susie Youssef walk into a hotel foyer in Earls Court and then the two of us giggling and crying.
- Laughing hysterically at ourselves on the tube and collapsing on the stairs.
- Mairi McNicol greeting me in Edinburgh.
- The first experience of the Royal Mile in Ed Fringe Season.
- Jugs of Pimms and Lemonade on artifical grass in real sunshine.
- Seeing Andrew McClelland smile and dance.
- The ten minutes of stage time Susie and I got...(and the impro show with Keira)
- Laughing very loudly to get Rhae Pearlman (Mona from Cheers!) to look our way so we could sneak a photo of her.
- David O'Doherty and his magic keyboards.
- Seeing Caomhan driving in the wrong lane to pick us up at Dublin.
- Dice Bar! And all that dark red groovy lighting.
- ALL of my lovely Irish friends.
- Mastering the art of tent erection.
- Having a valid reason to say and type the word erection.
- Seeing men piss on EVERYTHING!!! (not worth remembering, but more for the sharing I think.)
- Bjork. Pure bliss.
- Using a port-a-loo first after its just been cleaned....woohoo!
- Bacardi cocktails that are the same price as beer.
- The Dublin Gospel Choir. White people sounding really really black.
- Learning that Protestants make the best sponge cakes (guilt free apparently!)
- Being the only Aussie that gets sunburnt in Ireland.
- Meeting Sam Shepherd in the Stags Head enjoying his pint of Guinness.
- Seeing my friends at work (and having your friend work at the Guinness factory!)
- Susie Youssef being proposed to (more than once)
- Sailing Dublin Bay.
- Afternoon cocktails at Morrisons
- Saying g'day to Rolf Harris in Cork.
- Having a right proper night of craic with local Corkians.
- Winning a free return flight in the daily "Ryan Air" giveaway.
- Sitting next to Noel Gallagher in a cinema.
- The glorious Saturday sun with Susie and co. in Notting Hill
- The frown from French actress Julie Delpy as I attempted to smile a hello.
- The impromptu and wonderful fireworks visiable from my hotel window on my very last night.
- The welcoming arms of friends and family when I arrived home.

Ahhhh. I highly recommend you take a trip yourselves.

Porridge!

2007-08-16T07:46:00.000+10:00

Wow. Its the end of an era for another year. Today, I had my last bowl of porridge for 2007. This is because I only allow myself to have porridge in winter, meaning June 1 - August 31. (otherwise I would seriously just eat it all the time.) And since, this evening, I leave for London and will not return till September, this morning was my last winter breakfast.
Trivial yes. For myself however, it marks the passing of time. Kinda like when a pen you have runs out of ink - but only a pen that you have used from its brand new ink state ... these moments give me pause and reason for reflection. Or whatever.

Man I love porridge. Oh well.....till next year....

Into the great unknown?

2007-08-13T13:39:00.000+10:00

Ah yes. The great unknown. The undiscovered country. The endless possibilities of the not yet known. Ignorance is bliss. What we don't know won't hurt us.
Then why do I feel so sick?
I have had a little anxiety troubles over the last 24 hours. I cannot put my finger on it, but something is not quite right with me. Could it be the journey I am about to embark upon...off to the other side of the world to check in with some dear friends and have a really wonderful time? Surely not? I mean, thats just going to be a heap of fun right?
Then why do I feel so sick?

You know, it'd be so much easier to just stay at home. Not meet a heap of people who I never know when I'm going to see again but cannot help being attached to and miss incredibly. Not get attached to anyone in general. Not spend the better part of all my savings. Not put my hand up to jump up on stage and do a show I really have not prepared for yet. Not know. Have no control. Be kinda sorta scared. Risk failing.
I mean, I know thats why I feel so sick.

But how freakin boring would that be.

Give me the unknown every time - just bring a bucket too!

Free Hugs

2007-08-10T12:44:00.000+10:00

I was the proud recipient of a free hug yesterday - from the official free hug man of Pitt St Mall. (thats not me in the photo btw - I lifted this from some google, that is definitely him though.)
Why this meant so much to me?
His officially hugging jacket is velvet. Worlds collide. Free love/hugs/human goodness mixed with the fabric I fear. Things changed yesterday. Now I am not saying I am going out to buy a velvet body suit, but I am one small step closer....