Welcome to my blog where fear and phobias rule the day. My own phobias include, clowns, balloons popping, planes, planes crashing, planes filled with clowns crashing, planes filled with clowns holding balloons crashing....you get the general idea. Oh and although I love animals I hate them dressed up in clothes.
Other blogs that are friends of mine
My brother David
Sites I like
It's weird, it's funny, it's sad, it's beautiful, it's my favourite
He's weird; he's funny and another fave
Shameless self promotion type Kate Browne into search, cough up $1.65 and read some of my work
Sunday Life & SMH
Good astrology site us Pisces people are believers (when it suits us that is)
Kate Brownes Pub
These guys defy description
Dean and Nigel
They are painfully cool and they like Duran Duran to boot
Friday, December 21, 2001
A night to forget
Thought I would be leaving my blog as is but I simply must relate the events of my work christmas party before I disappear.......hold on tight, you're in for a bumpy ride.
3pm boss takes us out for lunch. Orders three extremely expensive bottles of wine on someone elses expense account and proceeds to act extremely smashed after about half a glass. Starts pouring her heart to all of us to the point we all start thinking that being back in the office might be more fun. She then demands more wine but does not want to pay and extracts it from the bar manager by batting her eyelashes and winking. (nice work) I escape muttering something about work.
Fast forward to the Christmas “Hoedown” VB is the only beer available – me, my boss and one of my work friends decide at the last minute to dress up like Indians by drawing stripes on our faces with lipstick and wearing plaits.
Five VB’s later am getting messy so a friend takes me to the toilets for some bolivian marching powder. Walk out together of the cubicle sniffing loudly and straight into our CEO (the toilets are unisex – kooky no?). He does not seem to notice (or care) and smiles at us.
Am now feeling very perky and am in a “I love everyone” state of mind. Decide to chew a couple of peoples ears off and hug them a lot.(mostly people I either don’t really know or normally like even) For example, funny how I never realised how much I “loved” the guy who does the accounts until I was in this state and felt the need to bestow lavish hugs and kisses on him. He capitalises on the moment by having a good grope of my arse.
At this stage I decide to kick back and hang out with this nice married couple and have a drink and a chat. Oh perhaps I should mention that apart from being a nice married couple they are also swingers who are heavily into S&M and have orgies. Silly me. Forgot that until they started getting a little too friendly and I started feeling a little bit like a dopey wilderbeest caught in the glare of two rather ravenous lions on the prowl. I scarper.
By this time the line dancing has started and I decide to join in without bothering to listen to the instructions. Decide to “interperet” the moves much in the style of the “riverdance” and also crash into everyone else as I cannot tell my left from my right.
Almost the end of the party now – decide to dispense some more of my Christmas cheer by bestowing yet more hugs and kisses and seem only capable of talking to people if I can hang on to them and get right in their faces. Scary guy walks past and I say “oh do you work here”, he says “yes” I say “funny I’ve never seen you before, hi I’m Kate” he says “I know exactly who you are”.
Swingers swing by to say goodbye. He capitalises on my good will by also having a good grope of my arse when he gives me a hug. She doesn’t muck around and goes straight for my cleavage.
More drinks, and suddenly I find myself magically transported to the pub where I am on a dancefloor, beer in hand dancing to “Girls just want to have fun” with the boys from the office.
Not much else to say really. Happy christmas everyone.
Thursday, December 20, 2001
The Awful Truth
Just a quick extract from an email I recieved from my friend that met Cruz and Cruise last night.
"Movie was tragic , and way too long. Tom is so short , and so is she!". What did I tell you, these midget superstars are out of control.
Work christmas party this afternoon. What do you get when you mix a whole lot of frustrated public servants, some arty farty wankers and a shit load of free beer in the sun? I think we can all guess the answer to that one. Oh and the theme is country and western and there will be line dancing. Say no more. I forgot my little outfit so will capitalise on my long black hair and some feathers my boss has in her office and go as an Indian. Hope all the cowboys don't oppress me.
Am stressing out today - have just filed my first big feature story with a major news paper. Have already had a nightmare that the Ed called to say that it was crap and am also freaking out about what the people I wrote about will think of me when they see what I thought of them. Lucky two of them live in Melbourne. Is it bad to say someone has a "girl next door manner?" god I'm cheesy.
Well I'm off on Christmas hols for three weeks and seeing that I generally blog at my desk during work hours I guess for a little while it's sayonara. Off to Canberra tomorrow for a few days (guess I'll be doing my christmas shopping down there so everyone will be getting fireworks or porn as pressies) and then off to Byron Bay in the New year. Can't wait for the the break - one more sleep to go.
Wednesday, December 19, 2001
Life is a box of Cherries
Brooke in my office received a wonderful christmas pressie yesterday from a client. A beautiful pale wooden box with a goose printed on it. Inside nestled on a bed of straw was a big bag of chilled organic cherries. Delicious.
I had my moment of hangover shame at work yesterday. Went out on Monday night to farewell Erin and for Simons birthday. We all had a fabulous time but the combination of lots of alcohol and far too much excitement resulted in me heading off to bed somewhere around the 4am mark forgetting about having to go to work at 9am.
Woke feeling okay and snuck in around 10am. Sat at my desk feeling alright and rang Rox. Told her I stopped drinking at 3am and she very helpfully told me the reason I felt okay was that I was probably still pissed and that at around 11am my hangover would arrive. She was correct. By 11 I was sweating, my head was pounding and I made the first of three visits to the bathroom to be sick. Let's just say that after eating cherries that morning everything was a delightful shade of pale pink. Admitted defeat and hopped in a cab at 2am. Fortunately my boss saw the funny side and has referreed to me as Miss Pissy Pants all day today.
Hey, the Cruise and Cruz juggernaught roll into town tonight. The after show party for Vanilla Sky is being held here at the house. All sorts of flunkeys have been running around setting up security and lighting and the like. A friend of mine has scored an invite and has promised to hiss Penelope and Tom on behalf of "our Nicole". Kinda glad I'm not going, I always find seeing celebrities in the flesh quite disappointing. Most of them are complete and utter midgets. What's with that?
Ps: Alex Lloyd has won the battle of my stereo. Kasey gave him a bloody good run for his money but he is now reigning supreme. (Probably has something to do with the fact I had to give Kasey back to Erin as well.)
Thursday, December 13, 2001
I've just bought a new lipstick. In fact it's not just a lipstick it's virtually a whole "system" as those in the beauty biz like to call anything that requires more than one container. But I digress, this stuff is amazing. Basically step one of the regime is to apply this liquid that looks like lip gloss but dries to the texture of paint. Step two is to apply this shiny glossy stuff over the top. It seems that the way it works is that the paint actually stains yer lips and you only need to whack it on once a day! So you can eat, drink and pash people without worrying about getting your makeup everywhere. Genius.
I sound like an ad but I've come to the realisation that lipstick is once of the great loves of my life.
Shallow? Absolutely. Glamorous? Undeniably.
Wednesday, December 12, 2001
Singing in the rain
Hows about this crappy weather? I'm afraid this summer is simply not cutting the mustard Sydney, I'm a little tired of having frizzy rain hair and having to carry an umbrella at all times.
Speaking of umbrellas I identified another phobia this morning whilst on my walk to the railway station with Erin. My umbrella often gets stuck as I put it up and it requires a bit of force to do so - I have this absolute fear that I will get that little area of skin between my forefinger and thumb pinched in the clasp. (Don't laugh it actually happened to me when I was little) fortunately Erin was very gallant and opened it for me, what a girl. She also had to get the lid off the bottle of coke I wanted to drink but was too hungover to manage myself. I am a sad case. No wonder she's moving to Canada
I went out with Brookie and Catherine last night "for a few quiet drinks". I was wondering why I felt so rough around the edges until Catherine emailled me with the bottle count from the evening. 3 x bottles of White wine, 1 x large bottle of Bacardi, 3 x girls = big hangover.
ps: Just realised I have been sitting at my desk, wandering around the building and having meetings with my collegues all morning with my sunglasses still on my head. Considering I have been indoors for the last four hours and it is not exactly sunglass weather outside I think I'm justified in my concern for my mental state.
Tuesday, December 11, 2001
The Battle for the Stereo
Apart from my general mateyness issues the other exciting news is that I am once again the owner of a stereo. I cracked on Saturday morning, took myself down to Target and attempted to purchase a little portable number. ( I say attempted because all the spotty 14 years olds that work there were out the back on a ciggie break when I was almost squashed trying to reach one of the boxes on the top shelf) Anyways - eventually I succeeded and once again there is music in my life. Hurrah.
My only problem now is fidelity...earlier this week saw me embarking on a total love affair with the divine new Watching Angels Mend by the marvellous Mr Alex Lloydbut only last night Erin lent me Barricades and Brickwalls by Kasey Chambers, which I am suprised to admit I am loving to pieces. Now I am torn between two Cd's. Kasey is great for a good sob and that kind of "my boyfriend cheated and my dog ran away" ambience, but Alex seems to have a song for every one of my moods and each one is more stunning than the last. Will Kasey steal my heart? Will I be tempted to cheat on Alex? Who will win? Stay tuned for next weeks episode of Kate's stereo...........
It's something I've only recently taken notice of, but I suspect it has been happening for quite some time. Just about every male type person I encounter irrespective of age, background or indeed their relationship with me feels duty bound to refer to me as "mate". Is it just me? I don't see notice other girls being referred to as mate. Hey don't get me wrong, it's not that I mind it or anything but I must ponder what it means about me. Even the security manager here at work had a fairly serious discussion with me on the phone this morning and still signed off with "all right then mate, I'll look into it for you".
Is it because "Kate" sounds a bit like "mate"?
Perhaps I am less of a girlie girl than I like to think I am and blokes feel pretty comfy knocking a beer back with me and think of me like their little "buddy"?
One consolation was the party I went to in Friday night where the guest list consisted of about 90% gay boys. They certainly don't call me mate, they call me darling. But then again they call everyone that...... even the cat.
Monday, December 03, 2001
Funny how you take something for granted until it disappears almost completely. Day four of a vortex consisting of being exhausted and irrational all day and then evenings of tossing and turning without sleep and feeling so bloody alert I could run around the block 20 times. Today I'm starting to see things out of the corners of my eyes and even short term memory is a challenge. Thank god for the old fashioned doctor I managed to wheedle sleeping pills out of this morning. No such thanks to the small white fluffy dog that entertains itself nightly outside my window by holding a festival of barking and whining for up to three hours at a time (quite an acheivement I think.) Fingers crossed for sleep (hopefully follwed by my brain..) by tomorrow.