I WALK THE PLANK

Melbourne town

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Mon, 04 Dec 2006 01:09:00 +0000

You are now reading the inspired musings of an Urban Affairs Reporter. Yay for promotions, and for all those folks having affairs our in the 'urbs. I can't wait to find out more.

As well as reporting on noise complaints, council hijinks, and my-neighbour-ate-my-dingo claims, I'm thinking this old town might be worth a blog. And definitely some fun features about urban myths and local legends. And definitely DEFINITELY a few meetings with Camberwell campaigner Geoffrey Rush. Who will certainly introduce me to Johnny Depp.

And check it out - Melbourne is home to the stars! At least, Bourke St Mall is. And also home to shagging koalas. Which DEFINITELY falls into the category of "urban affair". Woot!

Country party

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Wed, 15 Nov 2006 23:59:00 +0000

I love headings that mean two things. The first thing this one means is this:

And then, it also means this.

Which is interesting because I am being paid to write a blog. Which is why I've been neglecting this one. My new blog is here.

It's about politics. Which is not in and of itself exciting, but I am trying. Give me love, kids.

Missing

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Wed, 25 Oct 2006 01:17:00 +0000

Staying in Adelaide for two weeks is making me wonder how I ever lived in the country. And reminding me that I will never, ever go back. In particular, and in no particular order, I am missing:

- My house, and Anna and Merrin.. (but not Australian Idol sessions. Sorry guys.)

- My bike, Park St, and this house:

- Poker. In fact, I AM MISSING POKER TONIGHT!! Grr, I was feeling lucky, too. I miss Adge and Ty and even the weird guy who's poker face is slightly undermined by his shaking hand. Poor that guy.

- Cool places, like rooftop bowling greens. And East Brunswick Bowling Club. And the Empress. And Bimbo's.

- Having a fish and chip shop, and an op-shop, and a coffee house, and the Empress, all just around the corner from my house. Oh, and a Samurai. A biscuit factory just isn't the same.

Really, apart from a cute sister and a cute baby, and that one awesome shop, all Adelaide has got going for it is that I was allowed to bring this laptop. Oh, and that Glenelg is a palindrome. And has a ship monument.

Adelaide could be worse..

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Mon, 23 Oct 2006 03:11:00 +0000

Thanks to here. I have a new dress. Woot! (Anna Lovest, how much does this painting look like you? At least.. a bit.)

(I realise you can't actually see the dress much, but I was working out how zoomed the camera needed to be to get in the dress when my camera died. I had to go to Marion to get a new charger, and then got distracted by other shops on the way, and now I'm sick of trying things on. But the general gist is, it's blue. With records printed all over it. AWESOME.)

Baby

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Mon, 23 Oct 2006 02:49:00 +0000

Places you never thought you’d be #572:

In the back of a Commodore at 1.30am in Adelaide, while your little sister and her boyfriend are in the front and arguing about what’s a safe speed to drive to the hospital labour ward. I’m leaning towards pretty fast, but I don’t buy into it.

If I were Bec, I would have been taking more issue at the chosen soundtrack for her excruciating pain – lame top 40 R’n’B circa five years ago, including such hits as Sorry Ms Jackson, and that annoying It’s Your Birthday crap. Actually, I guess at least that one was going to prove appropriate for someone.

At the hospital, a midwife filling out a form asked Bec: So, why have you come here today? I spent the next few hours thinking up possible answers. "We told the police we were speeding because I was about to give birth, so they escorted us here and now we're here. Got any coffee?"

The next few hours were long. And painful. Particularly for Bec, but I maintain I was feeling sympathy pain. I got kicked out of the birthing room when they decided to break Bec's waters, and had to hang out in a waiting room, where "Adelaide's Greatest Hits" were being piped through a soundsystem. I gritted my teeth through Savage Garden and Ronan Keating, before I decided to go and wait outside the door and listen to Bec screaming.

At about 6am, she stopped screaming and Zoe started screaming. But then she stopped too and everyone was happy.

The next morning, before we left to go visit Bec and Zoe at the hospital, her boyfriend Steve was bouncing around the house to the Offspring. He really does have the knack when it comes to surprisingly appropriate music.

Which way is south?

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Wed, 18 Oct 2006 07:00:00 +0000

When I moved to South Australia at the start of year 12, I was a bit confused about those crazy Croweaters referring to us Victorians as “Mexicans”. I know it’s common practice for New South Welshmen, but something didn’t seem to add up when it was coming from our closest western neighbours.

When I asked one of Naracoorte High School’s finest for an explanation, he was condescending. “Duh, because Mexico is south of the border”. Firstly, I was in year 12 in 2000, so I’m not sure why any student would be harking back to the early 90s with “duh”, but secondly, I KNOW MEXICO IS SOUTH OF THE US BORDER, BUT HOW DOES THAT RELATE TO VICTORIA, WHICH IS EAST OF THE SOUTH AUSTRALIAN BORDER?!

Really, if South Australia is to be involved in any Mexican name-calling, THEY should be the ones getting it FROM THE NORTHER TERRITORY!

It was all very concerning.. and don’t even get me started on the South Australia superiority complex about not having convicts as ancestors. (Adelaide didn’t start out as a penal colony, it was settled by over-zealous Christian types, hence the City of Churches.) It seems a pretty second-rate claim to fame to me. And believe me, hang out in Naracoorte for five minutes and I reckon you’ll develop your own opinion about criminal histories..

Anyway, I’m back in South Australia for the next two weeks, and fighting hard against my state prejudices. So far, not so good. Went jogging in Marlestone today - home to both an Arnott’s factory AND the ETSA Electricity Plant.

Some call it the Festival State, others "a festering petri dish of weirdness". Either way, it's going to be a long two weeks..

South Australians wear orange, comfort each other after realising there's a design fault in their really small car.

Can't take the bogan out of the girl (Or: I'm going nowhere and it's in a hurry)

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Thu, 28 Sep 2006 01:25:00 +0000

For the Office of Confirming the Australian-ness, Questionnaire department:

Q. Where is the most likely place to find the best collection of music known to humanity?
a/ The Official AFL Club Anthem Album featuring hits including ALL the club theme songs PLUS Up There Cazaly AND One Day in September
b/ Polyester Records - at those inflated prices, they obviously think so!
c/Andy's iRiver
d/ A pub jukebox

A. Actually, you'd be pretty close with all of those. Second is obviously c/ - go see him be humourous, people! But actually, the biggest and the best collection - EVER - is the MIGHTY PUB JUKEBOX. Nowhere else can you find Run DMC back to back with Donna Summer. (Actually, you can: on Dancefloor Filler Vol 2, 3 CDs for $19.25 at your JB Hi-Fi now! But I digress.)

I used to work at a country pub, and it had a jukebox. My fondness for that jukebox is probably coloured by the fact that all the barflies knew my favourite song, and that Sweet Child O' Mine was belting out of that baby EVERY SECOND SONG. I was in heaven. Or would have been, if the New Zealand-ish meatworkers who also frequented the pub weren't ensuring that every other song was Slice of Heaven. But oh well, in between that tribute to dogs and farms, I got to bask in the thought of eyes of the bluest skies.. as if they thought of rain. Ahhh.

Of course, that was all five years ago, and nowdays the only time people play me Sweet Child is when they call me, and the sweet sweet strains of my Gunners ringtone fill the air. Evidently, I am much more cosmopolitan now. I like the inner north and the Lucksmiths, for the sake of Axl!

And yet, even in bohemian East Brunswick, there is cause for the ever-so-occassional bogan-fest. Like when Carus played at the East Brunswick.

The surfy-hippie-sandgroper plays what sounds like Bob Marley meets the Waifs, and it is awesome. Thanks to TripleJ and the festival circuit, Carus can pull a full house on a Tuesday night, and those cute-headed stoner boys and girls will be swaying and skanking and holding up lighters like there's no tomorrow.

Okay, not so bogan you say. But the inner bogan fires were kindled in the encore, when CARUS PLAYED KHE SAHN.

Now, I wasn't brought up a bogan. My parents never tied an Australian flag around my shoulders and took me on day-trips to Cronulla. And I remember vividly, aged about 12, being told by a mate he was going to the Cold Chisel concert. I said I didn't know who they were. He said Khe Sahn. I said, "Oh year, that song about the last train out of Sydney". He didn't know whether to be amused or outraged, so I think he settled on both.

But obviously, I'm moved on. Probably somewhere in that pup-juke-box era, I worked out most of the rest of the words, and how to mumble along with the ones I didn't know. Ahh, NOW I know why Khe Sahn gets compared to the Australian anthem..

Carus introduced the song with a half-apology - "I know this song gets a bad wrap". But he's always wanted to play it, and there were plenty of people who wanted to scream along. And really, I think it's a good thing. Sure, none of the bogans who belt it out in pubs can relate to what it's about. Probably half of them don't even know. But it did mean a lot to a lot of Australians once. And as anthems go.. well, it's better than Chris Franklin's Bloke travesty.

HAPPY ROCKTOBER, PEOPLE!

As sure as night is dark and day is light

noreply@blogger.com (Mare) — Thu, 14 Sep 2006 19:37:00 +0000

I have to decide what to do with the rest of my life. I expect blogging to be an effective procrastinatory tool.