The Things You Learn

Interesting things I learned from this month's Aussie Cosmo:

• tampons are luxury taxed in Aussie.
• apparently the whole tshirt under your strappy dress is back. I wish it would have ended with the cancellation of Blossom.
• Hilary Duff is pretty cool despite the fact that she keeps saying she grew up and lost her baby fat instead of like dieting and exercising. Last I checked, puberty made me grow boobs and hips. Apparently I was experiencing reverse puberty.
• Greg Behrendt has a new book out (his last was He's Just Not that Into You) and so I want it.
• Long distance relationship will apparently work if you've got these two things in mind: if you think it'll work, that helps a lot and you need to constantly reassure each other. Ew. I vote no.
• According to this guide on how to read palms, I will be lucky, rich by the time I'm 50, do manual labour as a job, have two husbands, no children and will never travel overseas. Hm.
• drinking energy drinks while drinking alcohol makes you think you're more sober than you are.
• Jason Swartzman (Rushmore, I Heart Huckabees, Shopgirl, etc) was the drummer for Phantom Planet and composed the OC theme song.
• Vince Vaughn is an "embarrassing crush". (Here's my diatribe on that: I think he's great. He seems like a normal person who's just good at existence. Most Hollywood types are like a different breed with their designer duds, stylist, PR consultant, fake hair colour, body parts, etc. He's just a normal guy who happens to rule. You could hang out with him and you'd love it. So am I going to think he's an embarrassment because he's a little tall and a little chubby? No. Because I think he's gorgeous.)
• A woman went skydiving and her chute messed up. She hit the ground, full force, stomach first and lived. While in the hospital she found out she was newly pregnant. The baby lived too.

Don't you wish you kept up to date on your Australian Cosmo?!

Not So Secret Garden

It's the second nice day in a row which means I have been frantically doing laundry. Stupid lack of dryer. Regardless, it means I have spent some blissful time outside in my tiny backyard. And I mean tiny. But part of what makes it so tiny is that there are more flowers than grass back there. I never really paid much attention other than noticing that these mammoth rose bushes were starting to tear at my towels on the line, but yesterday I noticed that there were actually roses on these bushy, thorny beasts. Then I stopped, took a look around and realised there were gorgeous flowers all around me. So, with the sudden realisation that I had the luck to inherit these gardens, I started clipping bunches of flowers to collect for a vase on my table. How classy am I? :) But it's cool that I now have something to focus my nesting energy on. I've already clipped back the rose bushes (growing up with my parents has me remembering vague bits of rose wisdom. Also knowledge: we built an addition onto our house squarely on top of some rose bushes; sad, but necessary. Months later, they just grew out from under the addition. I don't really think me trimming some unwieldy branches is going to kill these guys.). I need to buy proper shears or something, however, because my kidnergarten safety scissors may have clipped their last.

A garden makes me feel adult, a trend I am willing to continue for the time being.

Book Review

In the personal update portion, my voice finally came back. Although, in spite of me being proud of it, my dad heard the message I left on his voicemail and said, "Your voice sounds ragged." Sigh. We're getting there. But it's time again for the book reviews that I keep promising I'll never do again. But I've been reading and some stuff has been good, so here goes.

Alright, I tried amazon.com and they'd never heard of my first book, and amazon.co.uk has heard of it, but has no picture. So it's Paradise by Tina Shaw. The reason it's lesser known is because it's by a Kiwi author. I tread on a few feet by saying this next bit, but it's still true: I don't like a lot of Kiwi books because the ones I've read have been a lot of "you'll never understand how it is to grow up in South Auckland; I mean, am I right?" Well, I wouldn't know. Because I didn't grow up in South Auckland. My point is that you usually have to be a Kiwi to get all the inside jokes, social more references, etc. But this book addresses those without alienating the reader. And I dug it anyway because it deals with the concepts of "paradise" and traveling, etc. So I highly recommend it and it's a good Kiwi author. Secondly, I read the book The Third Brother by Nick McDonell.



This is his second novel, the first of which Twelve, I read while flying back to the States for Christmas. I will always think of Gate 58 in LAX when I think of this book. He is really young to be such a great author (he wrote the first book at 17), but has that gritty Manhattan rich kid vibe that reminds me of Cruel Intentions, but better. I liked this book as well. It is rare that I get two books out of a random selection that are really good, but these were and I always feel the need to pass it along.

And see? I've been a good girl recuperating from illness, bedridden and bookladen.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Well, it's your American birthday today! Enjoy your rum cake, and know that I did a celebratory dance for you on your NZ birthday, too.

Silence is Golden

Well, my voice has still not recovered. This is a ridiculous amount of time to not have your voice. Perhaps I shouldn't have been yelling at soccer after all. I have been forbidden to speak unnecessarily at work though. I am to nod in understanding or point for directions if I encounter someone in the building that needs help. I am not to pick up the phone if it is from an outside line. It sucks. :)

But, it was this or miss several days of work even when I felt fine (aside from messed up sinuses and sore throat). So I will sit in silence, a novel concept for all who know me in the slightest, and soak up the free tea, coffee and water.

I might dig this being quiet thing after all.

The War Is On

I killed the big spider living in my bedroom. He broke the rules and landed on my bed in the middle of the night. After a half hour of indecision, I smushed and flushed him. The war is on.

It started because one of my friends crashed at my place this weekend and got bitten. That was also against the rules. So I killed the big one out of vengeance and now another one was spotted in my room and I killed it too. I am done living with them.

Fumigation may be on its way shortly. Take that, spiders.

Newsflash

Losing your voice? So overrated.

My Daddy

This is my daddy back from the Southwest days before they moved back up north. According to him, it was 115 degrees that day. Things to note: cigar in hand, gun stuffed into belt, boots on feet, big ol' smile on face. That's my daddy!

Am Not.

Back story: Yesterday, while working extra hours again, I was readying a meeting for tea and coffee. With negative two minutes notice. I was in a rush. I'm klutzy. (Can you sense where this is going?) I dropped 8 ceramic mugs from a high shelf. Aside from the noise, and 7 cup deaths, there was miraculously not a big mess and only one non-mug fatality. (Well, two huge chips out of the rim, but only on the outside. If it were mine, I would keep it and use it in its ugly phase.) It was the cutest bowl I have ever seen. It was green on the outside, with a blue inside, and a full on face on the outside -- a cute little smile with a proper nose built onto the outside. It sounds a little garish as I describe it, but you may recall a mug that I am in love with that has a similar face. I described this tiredly smiling mug in an earlier post. It's a similar cute (and not loud and ugly) face. I almost shed a tear. Alas, I don't know who the bowl belongs to. So I left this note:

Dear owner of this bowl--
I am very sorry, but I dropped several mugs on your bowl. I am amazed it survived to the extent that it did. If I can buy you another, similarly adorable bowl, please do not hesitate to let me know. I am sorry for the loss of your cute bowl.
Annika

Now, 24 hours later, no one has come to me. We shall see. But another woman I work with (who is an absolute angel), Vidya, told me she had read the note. Here begins today's scene:

Vidya: I read your note. Whoever owns this bowl will read the note and melt into a tiny puddle. Who could be mad at you?
Me: Probably someone could be if I broke their favourite bowl.
Vidya: You are too good for this world, Annika!!
Me: I break things. I am no good. (joking - I don't actually think that being a bowl breaker makes you a bad person.)
Vidya: You're a hopeless romantic, aren't you?
(general agreement from surrounding co-workers)
Me: What?! I'm a hugely cynical person. Are you unfamiliar with my sarcasm?
Vidya: You only think you're cynical because no one else lives in a world where you leave a note for accidentally breaking a bowl while you again empty the dishwasher for grownups who refuse to do it themselves.
Me: ... oh.
(general agreement)
Me: ... am not.
Vidya: (as she exits the room) If only we could all be so hopelessly romantic.
Me: (more loudly!) Am not!!

I swear to God, I am not a hopeless romantic. Cynical idealist. Much better.

I NEED it!

I want, nay, NEED these shirts from bustedtees.com. I will perish without them. I am going to buy them. Again, they will make no sense here in New Zealand. The guy with bear arms that says "Second Amendment" would make no sense either. And they didn't really have Saved by the Bell and paty foul is an American slang term, I think. But I have ceased to care. I need, need, need. :)

Sweet.

Yes, I'm going to see a hypnotist. And I hope he looks like that picture. :) Well, I am probably going... it depends on if the crew wants to go because I just won't go see a hypnotist in a high school auditorium alone. But, I think the plan is on. Of course, someone (actually not me) thought this event would benefit from alcohol. Again, planning, but I hope we do slightly buzzed to see a hypnotist. This will still not encourage me to volunteer or allow myself to be volunteered. That's the kind of attention that would make me pee my pants. Still...

I got a little sentimental about being able to get a bit boozed up and go see some mass attended entertainment. I won't be able to do this once I'm an official teacher again. I believe it would be frowned upon. But we used to do it all the time at university. And I am going to celebrate the seemingly endless putting off of my adulthood by going to grad school by going to be the rowdy kids at a hypnotist.

I hope somebody acts like a chicken. That's what happens on all the cool sitcoms.

I Am So Lazy

I am physically unable to read research. I will spend hours in bed reading fun books. But research? I immediately fall asleep. I am here at work on a super slow day due to the public holiday that only a handful of companies (including mine) choose to ignore in order to add it onto a super duper long Easter weekend. But that means a lot of people aren't here. I should be able to just research. I have had only two people ask me to do things for them and each only required a 2 minute phone call. So how many articles have I managed to read today? Um, one. And I skipped most of it because it was like, "Here's the scientific data and reasoning behind our data collection..." And frankly? I just don't care. You go, scientists, go. I don't know your different stats methods. I probably should, but that's why I barely scraped by with a B- in Stats. Now we know why. You just tell me what you found out.

So I kinda skimmed one article. And then I spent twenty minutes trying to find a good picture of my interpretation of lazy. This one was entitled "sad girl". But you know what? I don't think people on vacation are lazy. I don't think napping on the couch is lazy. I think that is recreation. So there ya go. That was my half-attempt at soapboxing it today. See how lazy I am?

I'm off to really, really try to read this time. No, for real.

UPDATE: I read a whole other article. No skimming. Well, not a lot of skimming. I do have to centre on only my topic area. Also, I just got excited because I remembered that regular access TV is playing the uneditted version of Fight Club tonight. New Zealand is cool. This is the same station that played Gigli last night. I watched two minutes of it before I wanted to gouge my own eyes out.

Ramming Speed

Today is my friend's birthday. I thought everyone was getting presents for her (we're coworkers) on Monday because her birthday is over the weekend. But alas, I found out everyone was giving presents today instead. So I rushed around town this morning to collect my gifts. Okay, and for me, rushing isn't the right word. I carefully organised myself with the least amount of retracing my steps as possible. I'm efficient. :)

Well, I was walking along loving that everyone is decked out in green for St. Patty's Day. I didn't really remember if people did last year. I was taking in the scenery when a girl ran into me. I really mean it -- she slammed into me. Now, to be perfectly clear, she was in the wrong. I was walking down the sidewalk and she walked squarely out of the door and into me. We were facing each other. It was odd. Not only did she run into me, she stepped on my foot and stayed on it. So I went flying because she hit me while pinning down my foot. Okay, it looked hilarious. I mean, I went flying. Luckily, I didn't hit the ground or anything, but an entire group of people stopped to let the whole melee settle. The girl just muttered a choice expletive and went on her way. She was not, for the record, wearing green. Anti-holiday sentiments. That's what I blame it on.

Luckily, I wasn't holding the birthday bouquet yet. Thank God. Freaky foot stepper would have loved to ruin my friend's 40th. Jerk.

Oh. And Happy's St. Patty's.

Best Present Ever.

You may recall that just days ago, I posted that I wanted Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. Well, today's post brought me not just that cd, but also two other to-die-for cds. Lisa, you are my hero. I have decided that burned cds are most favourite presents ever. Burned cds, mixed cds, basically the gift of personalised music: phenomenal.

I have had the priviledge of getting music a couple times in my life and I've never been disappointed. It's the magic of music. Because usually, the songs aren't mainstream. If they were mainstream, you'd be hearing them hourly on the radio. So instead, there is music that is being passed around -- it reminds of some old cartoon (I believe early Disney?) where they had the cartoon characters fading away unless kids remembered them and laughed. Well, I think of it like that with the good music. These actually good bands that don't get overplayed or sold out to MTV need people to appreciate them and rave about them. So as I'm rocking out for the next few weeks with these cds on a continuous loop, I will think of the beauty of music. :)

On a related note, Virgin is creating machines where you can go to the store and make your own mix cds of singles... genius. Everybody wins -- mixed cds, and the bands get money. Richard Branson is a friggin' genius.

Belly Laugh

A morning ritual for me for many, many years is to eat breakfast while reading the comics. I am sure this is a ritual for many of you. But I am too poor (or lazy or whatever) to get a paper everyday. So, I read comics online. The problem is that in a real paper, you get a whole page of comics to look at, whereas online you have to pick out the comics you want to read.

I decided to branch out of my normal list of comics and I found this and I hope you can read it: I loved it. I laughed for ages, outloud to myself. Now, I read it today and apparently they are pushing the joke further with the whole religion thing. I don't have any idea what this strip is normally about, but I like this one so much. I think I like the random nature of it. So I was rewarded for reading outside my comfort zone.

Ha. Tomatoes...

Baa, Baa, Wah?

Yesterday, my boss and the full time version of me drove me home after work. It's a big hill. And they're nice. :) But while we driving in the rare Dunedin sun, with the windows down, a sheep truck drove past, tainting the air with what can only be described as the urine of a billion sheep peeing at once. I am sure I have mentioned these trucks before. It's like a semi, only it has about three layers, and sheep packed like sardines into each layer.

As we casually commented on the smell, the subject came up of how lamb used to be my favourite meat before I ventured to the dark (and green) side of vegetarianism. I also mentioned the cute factor that sheep have. Have you ever seen the little ones bounding around in a field? I mean, they literally bound! It's so friggin' cute. Well, apparently, to shield me from the truth no longer, my boss said, "Well, you know where those trucks are going right?" All eyes were on me. "Um, to... to... a different farm? " They shook their heads. "But, I mean, maybe they're just... visiting their sheepy friends while their farm gets... um, fumigated... for spiders..."

Even my boss' daughter laughed at me. They were off to the slaughterhouse and it had never occurred to me. Did I think they were just on holiday? How sad. So today I saw a truck and it made me very, very sad. Maybe the vegetarian thing is still strong and kicking.

Though, from what I recall, lamb was pretty tasty...

Cereal Killer

Another new obsession (it must be that time of year) is cereal and soy milk. I could never eat cereal because I don't like the uber-sugary kinds and the normal kinds taste gross without milk. Milk makes me want to hurt cows for producing such vile substances (otherwise known as lactose intolerance -- which has decreased over the years to a slight irritation). But, while on the blissful Emirates airlines, I discovered I like soy milk. Ah, wonders of wonders, I can join normalcy by eating cereal for breakfast.

Well, I bought low fat soy milk. It tastes kinda like water that has gone bad, but only a little bit. With cereal, it tastes fine. But you know what they don't teach you? Milk to cereal ratios. Even when I worked at the daycare, I poured milk for cereal, but I told those two and three year olds to tell me when they had enough milk. At two and three, they knew better than I. Shoot.

Well, because it's a novelty, I eat a lot of cereal for breakfast, for snacks, etc. But I get the ratio wrong. So I have to add more cereal (I invariably overestimate the necessary quantity of milk). I went through a whole box of cereal in a week. That's unheard of, I realise. But I didn't want to waste the milk, so whenever I would have a bowl of cereal, I would end up with two. So if I had it once for breakfast and once for a snack, that turned out to be four bowls in a day. Luckily, I saved money on other food because all I ate was cereal.

I bought my second box today and I have high hopes for my ratio skills. I mean, I've been working. I think I have a "fill line" that I designated out of the design on my bowls. Here's hoping. Or I'm going to be sick of cereal in like a week.

My Latest Addictions

You might well guess that one of my new addictions is my washing machine. You'd be absolutely right. It turns out that my clothes from the washer dry in 5% of the time it took the clothes that I personally hand wrung out took. Apparently, I am a horrible wringer. Good thing there are machines that work as my slaves to do it for me.

The second obsession is Grey's Anatomy. Okay, yeah, you probably all saw this show before. The rave reviews I've heard!! Not even just from news media, but friends as well. But it's on after Desperate Housewives and I've been antsy with sitting and watching too much TV lately. So, I decided to clean while watching this new show. Oh. My. God. I bawled my eyes out. It was the one (for you loyal fans) with the two people that had one pole through both of them from a freak train accident. I bawled! Just to emphasize how much this show got to me -- at one point I had to turn up the volume to overcome my heaving! Yes, I was doing the full on panting, crying, hiccupping crying. Was that an extraordinarily sad episode? Or am I doomed to be addicted to a show that will make a wreck of a person, a mere shell of my former self each Tuesday night? I actually spoke outloud, to myself, at the end of the show: "You horrible, wonderful, dramatic show." I am officially addicted.

Another obsession: the soundtrack to said sobfest. I need it so bad I need it yesterday.

Also, in less intense addictions: honey, peanut butter, tuna, and cream cheese sandwiches are back with a vengeance; hot water bottles; books about people with extreme talents (beauty [is that a talent?], dancing, performing, etc); bleach; cleaning; and my love affair with the Sims is back too.

The Good Towels

My washing machine is busted. Well, it has been since I moved in, but I didn't want to complain because my rent would be paid on the condition of my loans coming through. I already got the new fridge, so who wants to beg another brand new large appliance when you haven't paid your rent? So I finally paid, moments after my loans came in (that's just the kind of tenant I am) and moments after that, complained about the washer. Well, I have acres of laundry to do.

It's all piling up. Like, my huge hamper can't contain it all. On top of that, I only got my inside clothes drying rack (there must be a shorter title for that) today. It's been raining for weeks, I have tons of laundry and no way to do it. So I am down to using the good towels. The "for company" towels. The (gasp) white towels. I hate using them. I think only of having to wash them when I use them. Tomorrow can't come fast enough for Annika.

I wonder if I'll be able to sleep for all the excitement. I adore appliances. Especially big, shiny ones.

SIDENOTE: Spellcheck asked if when I said "Annika" I meant "annoys". Shoot.

Bitter Irony

It was freezing all day. As I was filling up a hot water bottle (yes, I guess we are kind of like a third world country), I said, "Gah! I'd give anything to warm up a bit!" And then the hot water bottle overflowed and I burned my hand.

Serves me right. Cheeky monkey.

Winning Doesn't Feel So Good

For those of you following the spider saga, there has been a shocking twist. Remember the tiny wee spider living in my shower? Well, we were getting along fine. There were nasty, pinchy looking spiders in my living room, huge spiders in my bedroom, but this cute, small guy was just fine in the shower. Then. Then. Today there was an accidental casualty.

There he was, climbing around on the shower wall, well out of my way. Then, he was gone. I assumed he finally found one place that I wouldn't mind him living -- behind the side of the shower curtain that is always closed. I mean, why would I care? But then I saw the dreadful blob near the bottom of the shower. Spidey had gotten soaked. I don't know how I did it, or if he just walked into a stream of water... I just saw his crumpled little legs piled on top of his now tiny body.

There was still movement. He might still be alive... But I make no promises. He didn't look well. And of course, all the big, scary, prickly spiders are alive and well. The one nice one in the flat was the only one who died. So I may have one this battle with the Planet of the Spiders, but I wish I hadn't. Let's all have a moment of silence, please.

Simple Pleasures

My loans finally came through. Finally. They were supposed to be in January 1st, so you can understand my disbelief. You too can sigh with the collective sigh of relief the entire city of Dunedin is sighing. You know, the internet bill, the phone bill, the energy bill... I can finally eat something besides rice. The real lesson here is that it doesn't take much to keep me happy. I finally have money at my disposal and instead of rushing out to by new clothes and accessories (quite the common stress reliever I choose), I bought my lunch at Subway. One Subway sandwich and I already feel I am living the high life.

I will buy some groceries, but I will still buy budget. I will buy a clothesrack so I can wash clothes when it's raining, but I'm still buying the cheapest one they have. This is the new Budget Annika. I might buy some new pants. But I really need some new pants. And they'll be from Kmart, but you won't be able to tell.

Next stop, I'm opening a savings account. Shudder. I will not grow up, I will not grow up...

Working Girl

I've gotten to put in a lot of hours at work recently. This is a good thing for I never have money. I always need more, want more, spend more. Vicious cycle. To recap, I usually work 5 hours a week because I was quite limited when I first searched for jobs under my 15 hour a week student visa. Then they upped it to 20, but I already had this cushy, well-paying job. My job consists of sitting in front of a computer and "looking busy". That might mean answering phones, helping tenants in the building with various things they come up with, or usually, just playing around on the internet.

The first afternoon I worked, it was great. I caught up with emails, my celebrity gossip, random blogs I hardly ever read. Then, the next day, I worked a full 8.5 hours. Okay, for all you full time workers out there, I know -- this isn't a hugely long day. I myself used to be quite used to 14 hours a day, 7 days a week. But... I am a grad student now. I never work. I have huge clumps of time off, sandwiching in condensed periods of stressed out cramming/writing. It works for me. I have gotten quite used to it.

Then today. Second day of 8.5 hours. My butt hurts, my back hurts, and I am bored. And I don't mean casually thinking, "Boy, I'd like to be doing something else right now". I mean, talking to myself at my desk, getting caught by my peers bored. I mean, getting busted played Bespelled on MSN games by one of the women I most respect in the building. I mean counting the number of students walking by (in two categories, umbrellas and no umbrellas. Hoodies throw me.) the building. I mean making cups of hot chocolate that I don't even want bored.

I apparently don't do well with being idle. If I was at home, I could find things to do. Hey, maybe I should actually read some of the research I've printed out for my thesis. Nah, not that bored. :)

Planet of the Spiders

I don't do scary movies. This is something well known to all who know me. One movie I didn't think would ever scare me is Planet of the Apes. See, that doesn't scare me because I'll just try real hard not to do time travel. Problem solved. But I am scared of The Ring because I can't control some crazy ghost/monster from killing me. I mean, honestly. I guess she can only kill you if you watch that video, but then again, by watching the movie, you see the video. One place I was always scared of that girl (and various other scary movie characters) is in the shower. Not until you have to close your eyes, but then -- oh boy. It's the opening your eyes and seeing something scary and unmanageable. Well, today I had that feeling from spiders.

Apparently while I was away, the spiders figured they had won the habitation war. When I came back to my flat, I saw several new (and large) dead spiders. If there's enough of them to make several casualties from old age, I am worried. But again, I am trying to co-habitate with them. They don't mess with me, I don't mess with them. Well, today I had the blessing of working a full day (I like money). I had to get up before dawn. I turned on my light and had the horrible scurrying motion near my feet. I saw a large spider trying to be nonchalant near some drawers. I just decided that he'd go away while I took my shower. I get to the bathroom, and there's another spider just like him! Either there are two, or that one jumped on my robe or something. Ew. Neither option is pleasant. But this one was on his back. Again, either he fell off my robe or the ceiling when I turned that light on. Ew. But he was dying on his back. I couldn't handle it. So I used a disposable toothbrush from one of the airplanes and had him latch on so I could flip him over. I fully expected him to rush under the washer. I consider this legitimate domain because I don't frequent the underside of the washing machine. Go at it, small friend.

But, of course, he lingered. I went to my room to give him some privacy. The first spider was gone. Again, he could have scurried away or was, in fact, a stowaway on my robe. I came back to the shower (I was on a deadline, after all) and he was still there. Fine. Stay there. So I jumped in the shower were there is currently a tiny (in comparison) spider who has been fighting me for the shower since I got back. I mean, I don't want to kill him, but this is a bad locale for him. So I was scared to close my eyes again. What if one was dangling right in front of my eyes when I re-opened them? Then I had the feeling I was living in Planet of the Spiders. I was the intruder as I was obviously outnumbered! There I was, in the dark (well, it was dark outside), with spiders crawling all around me. It's a wonder I survived at all.

Do I need to start resorting to spider traps? Do they make such a thing? Is it a fruitless battle?? Sigh. I wish they'd just hide away under things and not bother me.

The Anti-Shutterbug

I bet some of you are hoping to see pictures from my trip. You'll be waiting a long time. I didn't take any blog-friendly pictures. For one, I have my digital camera -- and I'm broke. That is significant because you need to have new batteries and a memory stick to make that really worth your while. I bought neither. Once I buy both, I bet I will be a picture fiend. I do typically love the idea of pictures. And I did take a couple, but it was more to show off my new bright and shiny present (I do love small, shiny objects). That and I took pictures of people -- like four pictures.

Where are my pictures of Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, double decker buses and the red phone booths? Nowhere. I could have drawn them from memory before I got there. They are so cliche, so common in every tourist thing that I didn't need to take pictures. Instead, I liked sitting there basking in the Thames, with Big Ben lit up on a calm, drizzly night. You can't take a picture of how that felt. So why bother? Oh sure, I could have gotten some zany pictures of me getting on the Tube with a silly face or something. But I don't need help looking like a tourist.

Fear not. Someday, I'll get the memory stick, batteries, and more than a holiday to take some nice artsy pictures in London. But that will be several years from now when I live there. Then it'll just be the backdrop. I can't wait.

Off Topic

Ha. I know you probably want to hear more about the UK. Alas, you get bad pictures from the soccer tournament that I was in just before I left. Fun. :)

Apparently this is my concentrating face. It takes a lot of work.

The above two pictures demonstrate that I have a one track mind. I don't take my eye off the ball. Most likely in that top picture, the ball was being thrown in, hence my upward facing eyes. If anything is going through my mind, it is "Ball, ball, ball, ball..."

Look at the form. :)

The infamous photo that I believe was just some sleazy photographer saying, "Yeah, girls, lie on top of each other. That'll be hot -- I mean, cute. Cute." And of course, I'm on the friggin' bottom. Always.

When Did That Happen?

Yesterday, I attended a work international pot luck dinner... while horribly jetlagged. Fun times. Those of you know me in the least know that I am a chatty Kathy. Apparently this condition intensifies during jetlag. Who knew? While I was away, the romantic implications of my trip to the UK (about as personal as I'm going to get in my rather public blog) had spread around the building rapidly. I was attacked with questions, which was actually kind of nice seeing as I am an attention whore.

In the course of the questioning, I explain how I had seen London for the first time while away. Some comments about London that were told to me: "Overpopulated, overrated cesspool," "You spent a whole weekend there?" "At least your whole holiday wasn't wasted in London." After a while, I mentioned that I intend to live there in a few years for a few years. There was an awkward silence. It was then that I decided that I am a city girl. I never knew. I mean, sure. I like the city. But I also enjoy camping, outdoors, space, country, wildlife, quiet, etc. However, I realised that the people who live in Dunedin live here because it has advantages of "town" though it is quite small. Residentially it's normal, but the city aspects are concentrated into one avoidable area. This was an important discovery. However, it has now tainted my perspective.

I came home and was sick of TV (I am sure my passionate relationship with the TV will be rekindled, but for now I am stuck on music and books), so my flat was more quiet than usual. There were bloody crickets outside making a racket. I was frustrated. Then I heard leaves rustling, birds chirping, and rain falling. I had to resist the urge to tell nature to shut up.

I am still not a city girl from here to death, but I am missing that London like whoa. But it does help me understand myself in wee Dunedin.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Ugh. I already wrote this ridiculously long entry once. Blogger freaked out on me. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I was already ordered to start writing again (thanks, Jaime). So here goes. :)

I am finally back in from the UK. I say finally not because I was gone for so long, but because it is a friggin' long trip. After consulting a globe, we decided that Dunedin and Liverpool are almost (but not quite) on opposite ends of the earth... you know, literally. I like to emphasize... a lot... that it was 29 flying hours alone, not including layovers or the other modes of transportation. I don't like travel to be boring, so I threw in as many kinds of travel as I could. First, I had to take a train from Liverpool to Manchester by myself. Let me explain. This shouldn't be a big deal. I can handle international airports in my sleep (and sort of did over Christmas with my mysterious illness that makes me barely remember being in LAX, let alone handling a transfer). I figured out with my mom and aunt how to do the Swedish train station into Norway with no English signs or speakers. The tube was easily figured out. I have driven over most parts of the US, usually by myself. But. I don't do buses and I don't do trains. Not by myself. If I have to stand in one place while bunches of options zoom past me and I have to pick the right one, I freak out. (Don't ask why the tube is not an issue. I don't know. I liked the novelty perhaps?) Luckily, a train was chosen for me that was stopped and waiting for me in Liverpool, and the Manchester Airport was the end of the line. As in, you get out of the train and you are in the airport.

But, I worried the entire time. What if I had gotten on the wrong train? What if... a lot of things. Which explains why I burst into tears at the International Departures desk when they told me I needed an Aussie visa for my one hour layover in Sydney. They were unkind and demanded that I needed this thing. Luckily, since I cried, they didn't make me pay. Which is good because I couldn't afford it. Then I was off on an 8 hour flight to Dubai. Dubai has a friggin' mall, food courts, reclining chairs in the lounges, and Rolex wall clocks. They are loaded. They are also nice and efficient and I was pleased the entire time I was there. The coffee shop took all forms of currency... from anywhere in the world. Nice. Then 14 hours to Sydney, 3 hours to Christchurch. Then a 7 hour bus trip (the good kind of bus, where they pick you up and your name is on a list next to where you are supposed to be dropped off at) to Dunedin. After all that, I am reminded how much I love traveling. You may want to know why. I will tell you in list form. :)

• Emirates: this was the airline I took, based out of Dubai. They are fantastic. It's just so good. They are so professional, and the planes are incredible. I highly recommend them to anyone, though they only fly in and out of JFK, as far as the States goes. If you are anywhere else, fly Emirates.
• I am easily amused: The TVs had about 40 TV shows with several episodes of each, so you could have mini-marathons of things like Friends, the Simpsons, Everybody Loves Raymond, etc. They had about 40 new release movies as well as 40-ish "classics" which included things like High Fidelity and Edward Scissorhands. Now those are my kind of classics. They also had classic videogames like Pong and Tetris and Pacman along with some newer style games. It was also like you could pause and start shows and movies at will. No more watching all the same movies at the same time. Sleep when you want, be entertained when you want.
• I am easily impressed. Let me tell you about this plane. The vegetarian meal was good. Don't underestimate that. It was seasoned, tasty, healthy vegetarian food. (As a side note, I now like soy milk.) Near the toilets, they had a little nozzle and cups for drinking water. If you were thirsty, you could get up and drink to your heart's content. No more dehydration. We were served food every couple hours, no matter what. The plane had little vents in the ceiling that every few hours, would hydrate the air. It wasn't like raining, but it was like a fine mist that came out. They have a natural lighting scheme. They close all the windows and the "nighttime" has little stars on the ceiling (pinpricks of light) so it's bright enough to walk down the aisles, but it's still dark. As it gets closer to "morning" they have actual dawn colours. Really subtle, but I was awake once and it's gorgeous. Reds and oranges that eventually come into "natural" lights. Then they serve breakfast. :) The staff usually spoke an average of 10 languages between them all. The seats actually reclined. I cannot express. Sometimes, it felt more like my couch got incredible service than that I was on a plane. Booze and Friends marathons, with mushroom and capsicum wraps every few hours. Mmm.
• Single serving friends: One guy I sat next to laughed for ages because of my cool airplane talent. I can be sound asleep and if a flight attendant comes by and offers anything, I will wake up instantaneously with a "Yes, please." I usually don't care what it is. I also sat next to a couple from India and we talked about what that big bit of the US is that exists between LA and NYC. He was shocked. One girl and I bonded on the trip over because we were in a row of four, and the two seats between us were empty. We cuddled so we could both stretch out. I don't even know her name. There was a flight attendant who loved me on one flight and he made sure I got extras of everything: blankets, pillows, mushroom wraps (they were so good), chocolate, water. I liked him. Also, people would hang out in the back big area (you know what I mean?) with the staff and everyone would talk and hang out and eat and drink. We were in it for the long haul and we were in it together. :) One couple from Sydney helped me find sharks on the downward camera as we were coming into Sydney. The sharks are big, dark blobs kind of. I saw three.
• Free crap: I am so easily impressed. They gave me a free pair of socks, a toothbrush, and an eyemask and I acted like I won the lottery. I even took the menu they offered (even though my food wasn't on the menu) just because it was pretty. And free. Everytime I went to the bathroom, I used the lotion they had in there... just because I could. I was tempted to take a box of tissues.
• People watching and eavesdropping: Planes and airports were made for this kind of thing. I will share two stories. One is of a Jamaican family. The mother was such a stereotypical large black Jamaican woman. Her two sons hung around her doing things for her. If she dropped something, she would snap her fingers and they would rush around to pick it up. If she wanted something, she would tell her kids and they would rush off to help. They were about 8 and 10 and they weren't afraid of her, or resenting her. They just loved their mom and you do stuff for your mom. It was cute. Eventually, she had her son sit near me (there was a table and he was whinging, so she told him to sit on it). He said, "I don't wanna sit all the way over there. There are a lot of people." She replied, "Sit next to that nice girl. She doesn't look scary." I was the nice girl! And he sat! The last story is this funny conversation overheard as we were landing in Christchurch.

Woman: Would you look at all that water!!

Me (all of my comments were thankfully in my head): Yeah, it's the ocean. Just like the oceans we have been flying over for the past 20 hours.

Man: And look at the farmland.

Woman: Look at it!! There is so much of it!! Have you ever seen so many farms in all your life?! And look how it comes right up to the mountains like that!!

Me: Yeah, it's a big old section of farmland. Did you expect it to stop way before the mountains or way after? I can't figure out why this is astonishing to you. Where are you from that they don't have farms?

Woman: Ha!! Would you look at that? That river just cuts through the farms!!

Man: Well, it probably helps with irrigat-

Woman: But look at it!! How cute!! It just sweeps right through!! Sweep!!

Me: Do. Not. Shoot. This. Woman.

Man: Well, it is pretty.

Woman: There is just so much farmland! I can't get over it!! Oh! Honey!! Look!! Sheep!!

Me: Okay. Where are you from that you've never seen oceans, rivers, farms, or sheep before? (They had a weird accent.)

Man: Yeah, the sheep are nice. It's a nice scene to take in.

Woman: That's it. This is so much more beautiful than home. I am never going back to Canada again. New Zealand is where I want to live now.

Me: Good Lord. Yes, I can imagine that this is all new for you. Mountains and bodies of water? Yeah, those don't exist in Canada. Oh, Canadians.

And on that note, my friends, I'm spent. More stories to come. In summary, I adored the UK. Absolutely adored. In love. That's me.