I Don't Like Lists

Actually, that's something of a lie. I like writing grocery lists, for example. Some of my clearest memories of uni are of pondering what I would be cooking for dinner that night and then writing down the relevant ingredients in my notes. My notes for "The Golden Age of Hollywood" for example read "Galangal, limes, chillies ... roti?" or "basil, rice, stock, chicken mince". Very rarely do I find pages actually dedicated to the framing or constraining narratives of female autonomy or femininity as raised by classic weepies such as Stella Dallas.

Anyway, so, the last thing I wrote was so shonky it's taken me awhile to figure out a way to get past it, added to which there was the whole "Christmas" thing (next year I dream of either being drunk while purchasing Christmas presents or, preferably, drunk and in Spain and purchasing nothing, nothing for Christmas, mwa hahahaha) and now here we are at New Years Eve and how did that happen? In answer to that question I believe I will leave us all with some highlights of... the past seven days. Bugger highlights from this year, I prefer not to ever think back too far.

On the Saturday before Christmas I was tickled to attend a friend's dinner party. Her boyfriend entertained us all with his Borat-style swimwear which he had ordered from the internet to wear for his parent's Bad Taste Party the previous weekend but which had no arrived in time.



I also particularly enjoyed watching two people who were studiously Not Together getting drunk to the point at which the girl turned on the boy and exclaimed "you know what my brother said about you at the races? He said you were Not To Be Trusted". God I love watching other people sniping. I know it is wrong but I do heart it so. Plus I thought her brother was toootally right.

On Sunday my sister picked me up in her family's tiny toy of a car with the top down so we got to zip along the coast with the wind in our hair.

On Monday my cousin showed her skills with a cocktail maker, filling up almost every lull in conversation with offers of more margaritas. This, coupled with me finally having a reason to hide out in the kitchen (and thus away from boring conversations) and the similarly alcohol-focused presence of JZ led to one of the more enjoyable Christmases of late.

On Wednesday I read an excellent defence of intellectuals and intellectualism in a very charming and very French book.

Thursday I went on the run from my family and propped up the bar with NoLogic, pondered the nature of singletonness and then ate lamb shanks and mashed potatoes with Roo and BFG. Somehow I ended up the only talentless guest in an impromptu guitar singalong which led me to reflect that I really should've paid more attention that one time I tried to learn how to play guitar. Sadly at the time I was less interested in the guitar and more interested in the boy holding it. Ah well.

Friday I ate genuine, melt in your mouth, yellow-from-eggs country sponge cake and won the game of Songs of The 80s against the fierce competition of B and the less fierce (in fact... not fierce at all) attempts of M. And then I got to eat pizza and watch Top Gun which, god, is one part homage to dentistry and two parts love letter to Man Love.



Saturday I revelled in Robot Chicken, revisited Garth Marenghi's Dark Place and then... won my first game of Scrabble. Yesss!



I also got to stuff the kitchen cloth down my brother's undies as a reminder that, although we see each other rarely and there is something of an age gap between us, I will always be his little sister and he will always be my bro.

Who the hell knows what the next week holds or the week after that but for anyone reading this I hope it brings good things and manageable hangovers.

Best [insert noun here] Ever

So as my comrades were lounging in the dirt a few weekends ago at Meredith, one of us was moved to proclaim that it was "the best Meredith everrrrrr". This is a statement that needs to be made every year so I didn't pay too much attention to it at the time - until I found myself branding many things around me as "the best thing everrrr".

Last weekend I had The Best Summer Sunday Everrr, complete with hungover drinking, sunshine, lounging, parks and mum jokes.



Thursday I had the Best First Plunge Into The Pool For Summer Everrr as I lept into the deep end of the Fitzroy pool, out of the intense 40 degree heat.

I recently had The Best Cherries Everrr (ever, really - ever).

At least once a week I find myself thinking I have Best Shuffle Mix Everrr on my ipod.

I do not think this is the Best Post I've ever written though. Hm.

High 5!

Actual dialogue as I was leaving this morning:

Him: So... well done!

Me: Ah...yeah. Um, high fives!

Him: High fives!

Me: Oh, you've got a handle back on your door, good.

finis

Little Black Dress

I have a weakness for black dresses. As with black tops I seem to always find myself fondling the only black dress in a store filled with brightly coloured other things and crooning to it "you look just like all my other black dresses, I must have you!"



Last night, through the magic of Spakattak, I got to view an even more awesome black dress than any I currently have in my wardrobe. It belonged to Julia Zemiro and I was so enamoured of it that I availed myself of dutch courage and found myself slurringasking her very polietly where she got it from. Then I got to undo her zipper and read the label. Best night ever.

The morning after hurt though. Not just because I had convinced myself that I didn't have to work when I really really did but also because the name on the label didn't come up in google. How is that possible? I thought everything was on "the grid" these days. We are all trapped in that hideous song. Forever and ever.

Blind

Some of my friends from time to time will ask me "Why do you never wear your glasses, herbert?" They follow that up with suggestions that maybe I wouldn't look so cross all the time if I could actually see better and perhaps I would be a happier and perkier memeber of society if only I would just put on the specs every now and then.



To which I would often reply something along the lines of "rack off, bitches, but please come closer because I cannot see you to death glare at you adequately, pleasethankyougoodbye"

For further support for my No Glasses policy I offer them the title of John Grisham's latest thriller which I spied on the side of a tram this afternoon:

An Innocent Ham


The electrifying new page turned from America's number one author. Follow the plight of Pernice, grossly glazed against her will. Will she succumb to the insidious cheap marmalade? Will she uncover the truth behind the cloves? A perfect stocking filler fo your loved one this Christmas.

I also got to walk past "orgasmworld" on my way back to work. A more intriguing place than "organiserWorld", surely.

Cherries

This morning as I stumbled through the house I found myself thinking how much more awesome cherries are than cherry blossoms.



Sure cherry blossoms are very pretty and there's that lame Air song about "sherry blossom giiirrlllll" but really. Blossom was also a really crap daytime t.v. show.



Back in the day, A* and I used to see who could stuff the greatest number of cherries in her mouth before chewing. I was often the winner but I would like to confess now that.... I may've cheated a few times. Sorry A*

Supernatural Meredith Part II

Standing in line can be very soothing when you have no idea what else to do with yourself being as it is about a)five hours earlier than you are used to ever being awake of a weekend morning and b)your eyesight is so bad that you are not sure if you know any of the people hanging out in the shade tent in the centre of the camp and don't quite have enough courage sans caffiene to find out just yet. So I hung out in line for coffee and then bumped into my friend Spakattak who was in an unusually generous and happy mood.



This turned out to be because he'd had so much sleep. 14 hours of sleep in fact. Slept through Rose Tattoo even. I was impressed/appalled but thankful for the stubbie holder he gave me to put around the first beer of the day (9.30, ahhh yeah).

And so the day unfolded, mostly in the shade because it was too hot to be anywhere else. I felt smug walking past the peaked-too-early who were sweating it off in the sheds up the back of the ampitheatre. I did feel sorry for the girl puking her guts up in front of everyone into the bin at the edge of the Heaven Eleven. Mostly I was just happy that there was beer.



I shared my rose tattoo faux-pas with the relocated sunday-social-club and was informed that Rose Tattoo would not play "back in black" , "working class man", "jail break", "eagle rock", "Khe San" or "when something is wrong with my baby". Thanks for clearing up any confusion I might've had.

Macromantics has the longest arms of any performer I have ever seen. Everytime I see her I am freaked out by the length of those arms. And why is it that every boy who's seen her just goes "man her dj is hot. A bit single white female vibeish but pretty hot. Oh... yeah, I guess macromantics music is pretty cool too. Do you think her dj is a lesbian?"



Tapes n Tapes, which I had been hanging out to listen to in their perfect time slot of 1pm were everything I could've hoped for.

The team were on high alert for Midlake. For some reason this totally inoffensive group of men from Denton, Texas, has captured the hearts and minds of the social club. And so we all made sure our minds were just a little bit more expanded for them - leaving me wondering if my legs would actually hold me up all the way down to the stage. Ahhh, bearded fleetwood mac men. So many keyboards. Such pretty tunes.

Despite Spakattak garaunteeing me that if I went up for Kid Koala all I would see would be a DJ I was damn glad I went there. Three turn tables, a whole lot of jumping and the moment when hundreds of people started jumping up and down to "fuck you I wont do what you tell me!" but doing it ... with love. Not with rage! Ok, fine, my mind might've still been a little over expanded.

Deciding that the Drones were not for us, Awesome and I ventured into a part of Meredith neither of us had ever been before - the weird, make out/look out point past the wood fire pizza stalls. In the afternoon it was still scattered with couples but also with The Egg and his snoozing friends and, miraculously, half a watermelon. Mmmm, watermelon.



By the time Sound Track of Our Lives took the stage I was in danger of becoming a dust person. The Superman throne I'd stolen off Spakattak was just not quite comfy enough to let me rest so I decided to sacrifice Augie March to the more urgent call of my blowup mattress.

Awesome and I reconnoitred for Cornelius and ooohed and aaaahed over the visuals.

Despite telling me that she used to think of me as merely "one of three" with interchangable names, Roo won me back with compliments about fashion and so we went to check out the cinema. Faster Pussy Cat, Kill Kill, makes no sense. It doesn't really make any difference but still. No sense.

Then it was time for the betracksuited weirdness of Datarock. Night Flight to Uranus was a highlight for me although JZ was hanging out for "the Fa-Fa-Fa one". Stumbling back up the hill with Awesome, we suddenly found ourself in an out-take from "Fame" as "I had the time of my life" came on and my friends and I used all our old theatre skills to form a chorus line of six thanking meredith, the stage, each other for... the time of our life. Shut up, I don't care which movie it was originally in.

Finally, finally it was time for the double agent known as Girl Talk. The Egg had seen him the night before and said he was the most fucked dude in the room (and to be the most fuckedup person at Revolver is, indeed, to be well fucked up) and he didn't disappoint on the night. Well, actually, he did because he didn't take his boxers off. So close! So close and yet so far. Keep on practising your highkicks in the mirror of your bedroom, Girl Talk. But start practising taking it alll off next time.


Kure Kure Takora!

Back to the late night cinema with Awesome and Random and it was time for the craziness of Gimme Gimme Octopus. After about three episodes I was reading a latent homosexual subplot between Octopus and Peanut and Random was reading a highschool script called "pashing that one that is sitting next to you". Awesome, the next day, gave us high marks for awkwardness and lameness and low marks for skill. I made excuses and eventually ran away.

The next morning there was nothing for it but to hide in the shade again, drink as many raspberry crush things as possible and then turn to beer again. I wanted to stay for the tossled headed hotness that would've been Edan but the hotness of the sun got the better of me. Oh Meredith, I miss you already.

Bogans Know How To Camp

I doubt this will be one of my most coherent posts since I am still recovering from the fabulousness that was the Meredith Music Festival but I s'pose I should spew forth my recollections before they get washed away like the dirt in my toenails.

Friday started well with me confidentally buying supplies, confidentally organising (by proxy) chairs for lounging in, confidentally packing for cold nights and confidentally waiting for my friends. I was a monument of confidence until I was questioned as to the whereabouts of my tickets. After confidentally saying "with you" I was shaken to discover, no, the tickets had been handed to me on wednesday night.

Oh Fuck.

An hour later the tickets had been located at my friend's house and we were on our way to the dusty, dirty, drunken, other, one-pair-of-underwear-for-three-days festival that I look forward to every year.



The drive down was a bit subdued compared with last year's Space-Van which was hired especially for the weekend and contained seven people and two cds made especially for the event (Wolfmother's Women and Dimension may've got special treatment that year. By the end of that weekend, Dimension was being used as the song of choice to describe anything - including what happened before getting there "I fell down in the field, yeah, wrote 'herbert lost her tickets' on a piece of PAYPAAAAH' [yes, apparently losing my tickets the day of the festival is almost a habit] and whenever everyone was too munted to think of anything to say someone would just wail "WOMAAAAN" to fill in the gaps) but even without the aid of special soundtracks we managed to get there before the sun went down.

Exchanging my button pressing abilities (button of a camera people, button of a camera) for my new neighbour's tent-putting-up-skills (which were actually just as bad as mine but ineptitude spread amongst four people is somehow funner. Particularly when they are not unattractive young gentlemen) I was down in the supernatural ampetheatre in time to witness the falsetto of My Disco. What's with these bands that all sound sameish? It's not like My Disco were bad, in fact they were pretty ok but I found myself standing there thinking of five other songs by other bands that I kept on expecting them to break into. The visuals though! Ooh-er. Aunty Meredith had really kicked the light show into the future this year. Impressive. As was the hot, crunchy bass-line that was turned up to 11 for most of the set. Sure it ended up sounding the same from song to song but it was a line of hotness that made the night seem set for good times.

I saw so little of Band of Horses and was so bored by the bit that I did see that I don't have much to say about them. Yay me for bringing jeans? Although it wasn't as cold as last year I still felt smugly satisfied that I had the layers to meet any challenge.

The New Pornographers, when contrasted with the bass-heavy Disco, seemed somehow tinny and flat in comparison. Votes are still open for the identity of their streaker. Good money is on a roadie that lost a coin toss/bet but I'd like to believe that it was someone from one of the overseas, indie, Saturday bands who had been persuaded that streaking was an Australian institution and mandatory for all bands who participated at Meredith. If only more had fallen for that... New Pornographers had apparently been worded up on Meredith's penchant for covers. Becoming bored with the (lame) banter of the vocalists, the NP drummer broke into The Doors part way through the set. He looked like a muppet and sounded a little like one too but was impressive nontheless.

My friend, Awesome, that I see about twice a year and always at Meredith, and I decided to get amongst it for the midget-led Rose Tattoo. The lady who looked kind of like an early 90's refugee from Neighbours and who rocked out, perm and all, to the entire set and who had the skills to gracefully field such "compliments" as "Aw, it's rool great that you're not too old to, like, rock out and that" or "good on you, even though you're like, old" was a total highlight. As was Anderson's proselytising "brothers and sisters!" To my friend's delight I enquired when they were going to be playing "last train out of Sydney". I am totally not rock and roll.

We stuck around for the Presets cos both of us had seen them play before and thought they'd be a fun way to end the evening. For some reason they chose to open with the most lightweight, boarderline annoying track of theirs I'd heard. Plus they didn't have the drummer from last time who wore the old fashioned deep-sea helmet the entire set that I'd seen. Coupled with the extreme light show there seemed to be something distinctly... Sydney about the Presets. Something... slightly Gods Kitchen/Belfast 4/glow sticks about them. Something...slightly disappointing. Hmm.

Heading back to the camp I discovered that our nearest neighbours who had brought in this weird, windowless cabin which looked exactly like Harry Potter's bedroom under the stairs but towed into a paddock as well as a bunch of other trailers were fond of their sound system. Very fond. 24 hours a day, especially starting at 1.30am fond. Thank god for ear plugs.

I woke up at stupid o'clock in the morning with my tent like a sauna and the comment that "bogan's sure know how to camp". Turns out our neighbours hadn't just brung the noise, they'd also brought in... a portable spa and two tanks of water. Only two rules ladies - no pissin' in the pool and no fat people.

Saturday was going to be a long day.

Datamonkey

Today I went back to an office I'd worked at before. This was the office that had introduced me to Insanely Irritating Office Lady, Secret Bitchface and Campest Man in the World. They welcomed me back like I was Cher. It was rather awesome.

As I sat at my temporary desk, struggling with the wave of nausea washing over me, I wondered if my feelings were a result of the night before or a learned response to my environment? Although I was doing a different job and sitting somewhere novel and different the very air seemed tainted with every other time I'd turned up to work there over-tired and a little hungover. I feel as if I know of no other way to relate to that office. Except through a haze of old wine fumes. Excellent.



My job there was to put the results of a survey onto an excel spreadsheet. Or, as I'd been told earlier in the week "to collate data from a hard copy onto a soft copy - you know, excel darling? Do you know excel? Terribly eligable, thundering bore though, such a pity". Bizarrely (or not, if my previous love affair with weather graphs are anything to go by) I was totally fascinated by this. The people who filled in the survey and sent it back were mentalists, mostly. They lived in fear of internet cafes, vandals, newsagents, butchers and bookstores. They strongly opposed children's play centres. They were suspicious of hairdressers. The only thing that united these people was their collective desire for a cafe. A CAFE. They wanted no post office, no medical centre nor pharmacy. Get away with such things! The only thing they wanted in their new township was.... a cafe. A high end one, mind you. Whatever that might be. Fascinating.

Burnt Cheese

Last night was my 'surprise' party. It wasn't a surprise for me so much as it might've been, in retrospect, a surprise to JZ who, when programming "something for herbert" into his phone ages ago and offering his casa as a backdrop, was probably thinking more along the lines of a quiet evening with La Benninng and maybe one or two civilised others.



The evening was, I think, a success. I managed to make one of the worst meals of my life for the hoards but I'm hoping they were too drunk to notice. I got to find out a friend's Magic Number (always intriguing), I lied badly, I swam through olympic pools worth of wine (it felt like, the next day), I played some of the most retarded table tennis of my life. I got lovely presents and hugged my friends wildly. So itunes got it wrong after all. Suck on that!

Forms of Punishment

This morning I was woken with the news that I was needed (like a superhero was needed) out in Prahran at some Media/Design place mere meters away from my old publishing drone home. Sweet, I thought, no humourless accountants, no uptight receptionists. Plus, I actually knew people who had freelanced at this company back in the day and if they were considered employable there then I would seem like an awesome thing of awesomeness. Or something. Oh, did I mention that I'd had about four hours sleep?



So initially everything was fine - with the youngfellermelad with the obligatory mo and tattoo on reception and with the i.t. dude calling sydney cracking jokes about gay porn infestations and dildos needed down in melbourne urgently. All good. Until Fellermelad goes casually, oh, I'll just put that on for you (no, NOT LIKE THAT you sickos) and suddenly I am sitting next to a flatscreen screening Channel V.



Non Stop.

It just doesn't stop. Ever. Even when I go to the kitchen to hide get a glass of water. Rogue Traders, some dude being a factory frotting clone from Detroit (twice), the Prodigy looking old and sad and releasing a remix of Voodoo People, Justin Timberlake valsettoing like he'd sent his balls to michael jackson in the post. Fucken hell. Now I am facing down Dave "Looks like Gilette Razor" vs The Egg. If this is the price of being cool the price is Too High. Ow.

Hip Hip Hooray

This morning, being as it is the first day of my 26th year, I decided to let itunes tell me what it thought my future might be like.

First song was ....... "Cry Baby Cry" remixed by Catalyst from his Dusted album. Hmmm. Sounds great but the title didn't seem to point towards fun times.

Then I got Modest Mouse and "Dance Hall". At least I can agree with the chorus if I leave out the (h); dance all dance all every day.





Now I have The Kills telling me that it aint such a thrill...

Sunday Shining

Today, after retriving my handbag from down the side of the fridge, I was delighted to notice an invitation to Sunday soccer. Although I am far and away the worst soccer player as well as often being the laziest and most hungover I always like the chance to show just how crap I am on the field of a weekend. Also, I find the way my friends treat me like a slightly retarded younger sibling while in the game somehow soothing in the grand scheme of things.



Riding my creaking bicycle home I found myself reflecting on the night before and how it was that even after you call someone a man-whore they'll still put out for you. Strange times.

Thin Red Line

Today, as with many other days recently, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands.

Thus I found it behoved me to share with my oldest friend, A*, my newest obsession. Details are as follows:

Herbert
to A*
2:18 pm (9 hours ago)


I just want to let you know that, although it is incredibly nerdy, I
am utterly obsessed with this site:

http://www.earthsci.unimelb.edu.au/~awatkins/melbtemp.htm

The red line, A*, the red line! What will it do next? Where will it
go?? Will it make it to the blue bar in time? Is it warm enough yet
for me to step out in my shorts? What about now?!

---------------------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 2:22 pm

DUUUUUUUUUUUUDE.......

That is even nerdier than I could possibly have imagined....

--------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 2:32 pm

hey, I try to bring the entertainment to you, why you gotta be hating
on me like that? wait, I haven't checked on it for fifteen whole
minutes! It might've gone crazy without me !

whew. still 28.6 degrees.

----------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 2:36 pm


I cannot convey to you how hard I am laughing right now ...

----------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 2:38 pm

it just went up point two of a degree!! I really feel that, after I go
and eat lunch, it will be hot enough to show the world my shorts!
woohoo! I know you are laughing at me but honestly, that line is
MIRACULOUS.

-------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 2:42 pm

I'm glad that you've found something that makes you so happy. Truly.

----------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 3:09 pm

So you've moved on from discussions of individual fish to actual whole
fisheries? Now that's what I call a promotion!

(don't think I didn't notice your condescending tone. I am merely
choosing to Rise Above It. Rather like the red line above the
predicted maximum. Although I don't think it will do that today.)

---------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 3:16 pm


Who ISN'T entertained by fisheries, really? Why Garfish - A Chronology
is not a published work remains beyond me.

I laughed so hard then I snorted.

-----------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 3:57 pm

in other, equally exciting news, it is now 29.7degrees!! omf'ingG

------------------------------
{Note, this is where despite early protests, A* hops on board the weather wagon}
A*
to Herbert
More options 3:59 pm


There is always a place for Michi. Always.

In our exciting weather news, the cool change has blown in! Yay!! It was
38 yesterday with an overnight min of 25. That is not a minimum, people.
And then got up to about 35 this morning. Icky hot.

------------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 4:29 pm
its all over, it's dropped down to 28.8! I'm so going to have to change. Sigh.

---------------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 4:29 pm
ooh, wait, it's jumped back to 29.5!!!

---------------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 4:30 pm (8 hours ago)


HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

I think anything above 25 is still good for shorts ...

---------------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 4:52 pm

yesssss!! 30.1 degrees!!

--------------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 4:54 pm

now 30.8! when will the excitement end, Herbert?

------------------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 4:56 pm
maybe it will reach the dizzying heights of projected maximum after
all!! Go little red line, go! Live the dream you good thing!!!

--------------------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 5:04 pm


The other point in favour of your shorts is it's still climbing this
late into the afternoon! that means I think that it won't drop till much
much later...

DISCLAIMER:

I cannot believe you have me interested in/following this, but:

Oh! It appears to be levelling out!

---------------------------------------

Herbert
to A*
More options 5:10 pm
true. Plus I checked the expected minimum for tomorrow and it is
only 19 so, as you say, I think I have a hot night to look forward to.

I should confess to you that I have spent the greater part of this day
pairing my shorts with.... hot pink leg warmers. This may come as
something of a shock to you and I know that my mother, on more than
one occasion today, has blinked rapidly at the sight of me. In my defence -
I am absolutely not wearing a headband.

-------------------------------------

A*
to Herbert
More options 5:10 pm


Herbert

Do not force me to undertake legal proceedings to disown you ...

--------------------------------------

And that's a wrap people! Possibly the most boring post you've ever had to scroll through but for me it was the highlight of my day. Now I've found something better than two up: