I love people watching, but I'm not such a fan of my subjects of surveillance approaching me and making contact, especially when they're off their face on drugs. Yesterday I visited the most amusing (and slightly terrifying) park ever. There was a giant group of people practising a dance for this weekends Mardigras, but it took me a while to figure out what was actually happening. I though it was some kind of odd fitness class, but then a group of people in seriously altered and grungy combat outfits kind of flicked the switch for me. There were also two guys fighting over a sock for a good 20 minutes. I was pretty sure that they were off their faces, and when one of them approached me and tried to have a conversation, I found out that I was definitely right. He told me all about his father who is a muslim, and a high ranking barrister who was extremely important in colonial times, as well as emphasising the fact that my English friends ancestors had killed his grandparents. I politely told him that I was sorry to leave such a scintillating conversation, but I had to go, and I did so, very quickly.
I also observed a girl who decided that the footpath was too crowded, and so began jogging down the bus lane going the wrong way, just to avoid things being in her way. Just a tip honey, there is something that will get in your way there, and it's called a bus.
I bought my first slurpee, and promptly dripped it all down my sock, but enjoyed it anyway, and while the sticky pink liquid dried, I sent my mum a message. Since my phone software was updated, it has adopted the iPhone method of autocorrect, and I almost sent mum 'slurry' instead of 'sorry.' Good thing I proof read.
A backpacker approached me and asked if I knew where he could find a window for pizza. I apologised and said I didn't, and then spent a really long time wondering if he actually meant a window for pizza (and if he did, where could I find me one?) or (when taking his gestures into account) if in his language, the word for money sounded like pizza, and he actually meant an ATM. I guess I will never know.
Lastly, I saw two guys having an extremely hushed conversation out of the corners of their mouths, as if they were practising terrible ventriloquism, or as if they were afraid of being under surveillance, but this just increased their suspicious vibe, and made them sound like the Swedish chef from sesame street.
Maybe I should have been an anthropologist, but watching other people would probably make me realise even more how odd I am to other people.
Xx, Little Duck
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Latin lobotomy
On my way to class this morning, I again encountered the enthusiastic morning jogger, who seems to think that pumping her arms up to her ears and back will burn more calories or something. For some odd reason, she always puts me in a really good mood, as her enthusiasm must be infectious, and she is a wonderful example of not caring what other people think of you. Jogging lady, I really hope that your workout is proving as good for you as it is for me.
In fitness today, I not only tortured myself in the name of strength, but I also suspended myself from the ceiling in more ways than I knew we possible. Pulling myself up by my arms, and hanging by my heels to perform odd contracting motions were just two if the odd uses I discovered for the hanging resistance bands. All I can say is that I'd better get some amazing arm muscles.
I managed to poke myself in the eye in latin, and if I can manage to inflict this kind of damage on myself, maybe you can gain an idea of how dangerous I am to my partner. I can sense a reluctance in all the boys to pair with me for exercises, and I can understand why. Other than that, it was a great class, in which I started to gain control of my wayward hips, and for once, I didn't get blisters! It's safe to say I will never be a ballroom dancer, but at least I can have fun, and pretend to be amazing as I am sambad around the room by our instructor, who makes everything 1000 times easier.
For dinner I made stir-fry, and at the last minute, I thought I would add some frozen peas for something different. Due to an unfortunate slip of the hand, my stir-fry became 98% peas, but despite the amount of small green spheres invading my plate, it was still a very tasty meal. Luckily.
Xx, Little Duck
P.S my energy bars didn't kill me. Just the food processor.
In fitness today, I not only tortured myself in the name of strength, but I also suspended myself from the ceiling in more ways than I knew we possible. Pulling myself up by my arms, and hanging by my heels to perform odd contracting motions were just two if the odd uses I discovered for the hanging resistance bands. All I can say is that I'd better get some amazing arm muscles.
I managed to poke myself in the eye in latin, and if I can manage to inflict this kind of damage on myself, maybe you can gain an idea of how dangerous I am to my partner. I can sense a reluctance in all the boys to pair with me for exercises, and I can understand why. Other than that, it was a great class, in which I started to gain control of my wayward hips, and for once, I didn't get blisters! It's safe to say I will never be a ballroom dancer, but at least I can have fun, and pretend to be amazing as I am sambad around the room by our instructor, who makes everything 1000 times easier.
For dinner I made stir-fry, and at the last minute, I thought I would add some frozen peas for something different. Due to an unfortunate slip of the hand, my stir-fry became 98% peas, but despite the amount of small green spheres invading my plate, it was still a very tasty meal. Luckily.
Xx, Little Duck
P.S my energy bars didn't kill me. Just the food processor.
Monday, 24 February 2014
Date damage
Todays cooking adventures involved a raw energy bar recipe from the Lorna Jane website. It was made in a food processor, and used dates to bind the mixture. I haven't cooked with dates before, and I haven't eaten them in a while, and so of course I just popped them into the food processor whole; and forgot about the seeds. Needless to say my food processor doesn't work any more, as I splintered the plastic mixer shaft, and then spent a long time fishing for the 5 seeds in the chocolate coloured crumb. I then had to improvise, and hand chop the craisins and dates into tiny, tiny pieces, and use a variety of kitchen implements to try and make the puree. Luckily, the end result doesn't appear to be poisonous. Fingers crossed.
I managed to fudge my way through another "sexy" Beyoncé routine, and only stepped on the toes of the girl behind me a couple of times, and some of the time it wasn't even my fault. Major improvement. I was also told by our Russian acrobatics instructor that I was his favourite student, but I have a feeling that this is based on the fact that I don't talk while he does, and has absolutely nothing to do with my ability. It's definitely not based on my ability.
At the supermarket I got strange looks from the lady restocking the fridges, as I pondered which cold treat to get. There are enough choices in the flavoured milk alone, Add to that the Le rices, mini cheese cakes and pavlovas, and a sugar addict becomes completely swamped. I ended up choosing a Yogo with mini m&ms, and my self satisfied smile, coupled with the enthusiastic and dancy way I popped it into my trolley didn't seem to help my reputation with fridge lady. She's just jealous because she couldn't eat the Yogo.
On another note, Mr Emphysema next door has decided to do some renovations in his crop and chicken filled back yard. This would be fine, but the downside is that he seems to start between 5:30 and 6:00am each morning. Yay. It saves me waiting on my alarm though, as he grunts so much that if I didn't know better I'd think he was playing tennis. Hopefully his early starts mean that he finishes soon.
Talk to you all tomorrow, if my energy bars don't kill me,
Xx, Little Duck
I managed to fudge my way through another "sexy" Beyoncé routine, and only stepped on the toes of the girl behind me a couple of times, and some of the time it wasn't even my fault. Major improvement. I was also told by our Russian acrobatics instructor that I was his favourite student, but I have a feeling that this is based on the fact that I don't talk while he does, and has absolutely nothing to do with my ability. It's definitely not based on my ability.
At the supermarket I got strange looks from the lady restocking the fridges, as I pondered which cold treat to get. There are enough choices in the flavoured milk alone, Add to that the Le rices, mini cheese cakes and pavlovas, and a sugar addict becomes completely swamped. I ended up choosing a Yogo with mini m&ms, and my self satisfied smile, coupled with the enthusiastic and dancy way I popped it into my trolley didn't seem to help my reputation with fridge lady. She's just jealous because she couldn't eat the Yogo.
On another note, Mr Emphysema next door has decided to do some renovations in his crop and chicken filled back yard. This would be fine, but the downside is that he seems to start between 5:30 and 6:00am each morning. Yay. It saves me waiting on my alarm though, as he grunts so much that if I didn't know better I'd think he was playing tennis. Hopefully his early starts mean that he finishes soon.
Talk to you all tomorrow, if my energy bars don't kill me,
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 23 February 2014
Billboard blooper
Karma is no longer going to like me. At all. It started so innocently, as I pointed out billboard that I have never read before, but have noticed every time I have driven passed. I made the comment that I didn't find it a particularly inviting billboard, and that I almost found it scary. My friend and I then decided to read the board, and lapsed into horrified silence as we both realised that it was advertising a disability employment company. I now feel like the worst person ever, and would just like to say; if the person in charge of Karma is reading this for some odd reason, I simply meant that he wasn't smiling, and his stare was quite intense. Please don't all hate me, I already have the reminder of my sins whenever I drive to class.
I passed said billboard today on my way to another theatre lecture, and instead of a spaghetti sandwich, I took grapes for my snack. Instead of a non sloppy food that minimised mess, I just ended up re-enacting the Malteasers ad in which they roll all over the dash, except I wasn't able to catch them.
After doing some washing, I was coming back down the stairs to peg it out, and kept hearing tiny thudding noises. I got down to my flat and realised that my laundry bag was slightly open, and socks and pieces of underwear had been falling out all the way down the stairs. I was then forced to try and stealthily climb all the way back up and sneakily retrieve my undergarments without attracting the attention of my landlords on the veranda. I'd like to think I got away with it, and if I didn't, I don't want to find out!
Right now I am watching SYTYCD and cheering really loudly for my favourites (feel like voting for Eden anyone? please do :)), interspersed with bursts of ridiculously loud laughter as I watch the comedy vines channel. I am so far behind the times it's not funny.
Xx, Little Duck
I passed said billboard today on my way to another theatre lecture, and instead of a spaghetti sandwich, I took grapes for my snack. Instead of a non sloppy food that minimised mess, I just ended up re-enacting the Malteasers ad in which they roll all over the dash, except I wasn't able to catch them.
After doing some washing, I was coming back down the stairs to peg it out, and kept hearing tiny thudding noises. I got down to my flat and realised that my laundry bag was slightly open, and socks and pieces of underwear had been falling out all the way down the stairs. I was then forced to try and stealthily climb all the way back up and sneakily retrieve my undergarments without attracting the attention of my landlords on the veranda. I'd like to think I got away with it, and if I didn't, I don't want to find out!
Right now I am watching SYTYCD and cheering really loudly for my favourites (feel like voting for Eden anyone? please do :)), interspersed with bursts of ridiculously loud laughter as I watch the comedy vines channel. I am so far behind the times it's not funny.
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 22 February 2014
Shopping shenanigans
Today marked my first shopping experience in Sydney, and my new priorities became quite clear; I bought one item of clothing that wasn't dance gear. Surprisingly it wasn't the stores and some of their astronomical prices that caught my eyes, but the tiny little quirks of the streets.
My first preoccupation was a street sign that read "smail street." My brain didn't know whether to think of a post office, or a snail, and I'm not sure that this is a common problem, but it left me seriously confused.
This was closely followed by a small, peeling sticker on a brick wall corner. It was in the shape of a bottle, and said "the soy sauce room." I'm sure it was just a little restaurant or something, but its dingy placement, design and peeling nature automatically left me wondering what kind of crazy cult symbol it was, or what really happened in this mysterious soy sauce room.
I marvel that, even with our amount of modern technology to teach us things, some people can just have no common sense. As I waited at a traffic light crossing, a lady came around the corner, driving with her headphones plugged into the car stereo. Despite the fact that her windows were up, and she was the only one in the car, she didn't seem to grasp the idea that no one else could hear her music. I wonder what she could have been listening to, that required such extreme protection. Either she is an international spy, or has a serious and cringe worthy addiction to one direction.
My last city experience for the day was possibly the most surreal. As I walked past a café and into central station, there was a guy sitting drinking coffee, and smoking a hookah. I kid you not; a full sized ornamental hookah. This raised so many questions for me. Is this legal? What did the café owners think? And how on earth did he get it there? I mean, it's not really the sort of thing people take on the train with them for a day trip into the city.
Since getting home I haven't done much but almost set my tea towel on fire. I was lighting a beautiful new candle that I was given as a gift today, and it came with those giant matches that are supposed to stop you burning your fingers. How ironic that it wasn't my fingers that needed saving. In a way that only I could manage, the match snapped in half as I struck it against the abrasive siding, and the lit end flew across the kitchen, hit my hanging tea towel, and fell to the tiles. The candle was eventually lit, and thankfully, nothing else caught fire.
Little (slightly scorched) Duck, out.
My first preoccupation was a street sign that read "smail street." My brain didn't know whether to think of a post office, or a snail, and I'm not sure that this is a common problem, but it left me seriously confused.
This was closely followed by a small, peeling sticker on a brick wall corner. It was in the shape of a bottle, and said "the soy sauce room." I'm sure it was just a little restaurant or something, but its dingy placement, design and peeling nature automatically left me wondering what kind of crazy cult symbol it was, or what really happened in this mysterious soy sauce room.
I marvel that, even with our amount of modern technology to teach us things, some people can just have no common sense. As I waited at a traffic light crossing, a lady came around the corner, driving with her headphones plugged into the car stereo. Despite the fact that her windows were up, and she was the only one in the car, she didn't seem to grasp the idea that no one else could hear her music. I wonder what she could have been listening to, that required such extreme protection. Either she is an international spy, or has a serious and cringe worthy addiction to one direction.
My last city experience for the day was possibly the most surreal. As I walked past a café and into central station, there was a guy sitting drinking coffee, and smoking a hookah. I kid you not; a full sized ornamental hookah. This raised so many questions for me. Is this legal? What did the café owners think? And how on earth did he get it there? I mean, it's not really the sort of thing people take on the train with them for a day trip into the city.
Since getting home I haven't done much but almost set my tea towel on fire. I was lighting a beautiful new candle that I was given as a gift today, and it came with those giant matches that are supposed to stop you burning your fingers. How ironic that it wasn't my fingers that needed saving. In a way that only I could manage, the match snapped in half as I struck it against the abrasive siding, and the lit end flew across the kitchen, hit my hanging tea towel, and fell to the tiles. The candle was eventually lit, and thankfully, nothing else caught fire.
Little (slightly scorched) Duck, out.
Thursday, 20 February 2014
For services rendered
I witnessed two of the loudest girls on a train recently, and their topics of conversation were the oddest, and most disconcerting things I had heard in a long time. I could deal with most of the high pitched nonsense coming from their direction, but as soon as it got to; "you really need to pluck your mole hair Anne," which was promptly followed by "moley, moley, moley, moley!!!" I did everything I could to tune them out.
I then found out that a major part of my life has been a lie, as two people in the one day told me that my eyes are a greenish colour, when I have lived 21 years in the firm belief that they are blue. Now I don't know if they're wrong, I'm colour blind, or if I'm just crazy for spending so much time thinking about it.
I got my phone back today! I am so excited and relieved, which is quite odd, because I've been quite fine without all its bells and whistles, but I was just so over the little brick that I was being forced to use instead. I ashamedly admit that I am a slave to habit, and therefore, technology. As long as I have it back though, I don't really care! After I had picked up my phone, I was sitting in the car switching my sim over, and a trolley guy tried to push a trolley between my bumper, and the bumper of the car parked in front of me. It obviously didn't fit, and made contact with both cars, but he just kept trying to ram it through, until he looked up and saw my horrified face through the windshield. As soon as he realised that I was in the car, he literally ran for his life, the trolley swinging haphazardly behind him. I shudder to think what other poor cars he may have injured during his hasty retreat.
I thought that receiving the back-handed compliment of my face being "interesting and unique," was as odd as things would get regarding my career for a while. I was very wrong. Today I received an offer from a photographer to do a shoot for which I would be paid. He described his style as "different to everyone else's, in a way you might like." He then linked me through to his page so that I could see some of his work. The notice at the top explained that all models in the first section were unpaid, but that all models in the second section received a fee for their services. The first few shots were quite beautiful, but then the page said that section 2 was for 18+ viewers only. They were all nudes. I was offered a nude photo shoot. Posing naked for money. I find this the most ironic job offer ever, as this photographer has obviously completely misjudged me, and again, all based on my headshot. I could have the body of a troll, and he wouldn't know until it was too late! Despite being offered $50 for my "services," you will be shocked to learn that I declined the job. I must be crazy.
Little Duck, out
I then found out that a major part of my life has been a lie, as two people in the one day told me that my eyes are a greenish colour, when I have lived 21 years in the firm belief that they are blue. Now I don't know if they're wrong, I'm colour blind, or if I'm just crazy for spending so much time thinking about it.
I got my phone back today! I am so excited and relieved, which is quite odd, because I've been quite fine without all its bells and whistles, but I was just so over the little brick that I was being forced to use instead. I ashamedly admit that I am a slave to habit, and therefore, technology. As long as I have it back though, I don't really care! After I had picked up my phone, I was sitting in the car switching my sim over, and a trolley guy tried to push a trolley between my bumper, and the bumper of the car parked in front of me. It obviously didn't fit, and made contact with both cars, but he just kept trying to ram it through, until he looked up and saw my horrified face through the windshield. As soon as he realised that I was in the car, he literally ran for his life, the trolley swinging haphazardly behind him. I shudder to think what other poor cars he may have injured during his hasty retreat.
I thought that receiving the back-handed compliment of my face being "interesting and unique," was as odd as things would get regarding my career for a while. I was very wrong. Today I received an offer from a photographer to do a shoot for which I would be paid. He described his style as "different to everyone else's, in a way you might like." He then linked me through to his page so that I could see some of his work. The notice at the top explained that all models in the first section were unpaid, but that all models in the second section received a fee for their services. The first few shots were quite beautiful, but then the page said that section 2 was for 18+ viewers only. They were all nudes. I was offered a nude photo shoot. Posing naked for money. I find this the most ironic job offer ever, as this photographer has obviously completely misjudged me, and again, all based on my headshot. I could have the body of a troll, and he wouldn't know until it was too late! Despite being offered $50 for my "services," you will be shocked to learn that I declined the job. I must be crazy.
Little Duck, out
Wednesday, 19 February 2014
Unique compliments
So I did it again. Skipped a night of blogging, and I'm really very sorry, but I do have an excuse; I was baking. I was baking macarons to be more precise, and of course, there is always something that goes wrong. I was making them for a birthday party we were having at full time, as one of our girls was turning 18. I bought ingredients to make enough macarons for everyone to have one, plus a few extras, because you can never have too many. However, I didn't even think that I now have a new oven, and so the first batch of shells that I put in came out like little hot cross buns. Instead of feet, they had little cracks in the shape of crosses on the top of each shell, and seeing as these weren't pretty enough to serve on the day, I had a lovely dessert of cracked raspberry meringues and leftover chocolate ganache. I did end up making just enough to go round though, and so that was lucky.
Today I successfully did one of the easiest breakdance tricks that we have learnt so far (a baby freeze,) and I was quite happy with myself. I wasn't quite so strong or dexterous after the lunch time party though, as a considerable amount more sugar than I have had recently consumed had entered my system, and even though I had missed it, it was lucky that I didn't have very strenuous classes in the afternoon.
On the way home today in the pouring rain, I was pushed into the wrong lane, and had to embark on an adventure through unknown streets without my GPS. I thought Sydney drivers were scary usually, but in the rain when they continue to cut in and honk, and forget to turn their lights on, it reached a whole new level of intimidation. Eventually I just made it my mission to find the train line, and then managed to make it home, where I promptly laid down and had a nap.
We are constantly told that being noticed by industry professionals is always a good thing, but we are never told that it might be for things that we aren't so happy about. It wasn't for my sticky-outy ears (luckily,) but I was described today by producer as having an "interesting and unique" look. Unique I can own, but interesting... I can't really think of a situation where interesting has been used to describe an effort or look in good way. To make it even better, the comment was in reference to a headshot, and so it had nothing to do with my clothes, and everything to do with my face.
Little Duck with an interesting face, out.
Today I successfully did one of the easiest breakdance tricks that we have learnt so far (a baby freeze,) and I was quite happy with myself. I wasn't quite so strong or dexterous after the lunch time party though, as a considerable amount more sugar than I have had recently consumed had entered my system, and even though I had missed it, it was lucky that I didn't have very strenuous classes in the afternoon.
On the way home today in the pouring rain, I was pushed into the wrong lane, and had to embark on an adventure through unknown streets without my GPS. I thought Sydney drivers were scary usually, but in the rain when they continue to cut in and honk, and forget to turn their lights on, it reached a whole new level of intimidation. Eventually I just made it my mission to find the train line, and then managed to make it home, where I promptly laid down and had a nap.
We are constantly told that being noticed by industry professionals is always a good thing, but we are never told that it might be for things that we aren't so happy about. It wasn't for my sticky-outy ears (luckily,) but I was described today by producer as having an "interesting and unique" look. Unique I can own, but interesting... I can't really think of a situation where interesting has been used to describe an effort or look in good way. To make it even better, the comment was in reference to a headshot, and so it had nothing to do with my clothes, and everything to do with my face.
Little Duck with an interesting face, out.
Monday, 17 February 2014
Maintenance madman
I really miss my phone. My alarm didn't go off again this morning, but unlike last time, I didn't wake up half an hour before I had to leave. I woke up ten minutes after I usually leave. Luckily, my OCD meant that everything was ready to go, and I was out the door three minutes after I got up. Seeing as I didn't have time for breakfast, I had to eat the boiled egg I'd packed for morning tea while driving. Thank goodness luck was on my side, and I didn't repeat yesterdays sandwich fiasco, arriving on time with neither myself or my car covered in egg yolk.
After class I went to do the shopping, and managed to escape any horrified stares by old ladies. So far so good. I had to buy some vitamins, and I knew what I needed, so it shouldn't have been a problem, despite the fact that I had to identify the right bottles among the hundreds of others on the shelves. I'm sure I would have only been there a few minutes, but there was a Woolworths employee restocking the same shelves that I was trying to search. Every time I tried to move my trolley and check the next section along, she would try to move hers into the same place and put her bottles into the slots I was getting them out of. In the end I was there for a good ten minutes doing an awkward shuffle with my trolley. It's not really the type of partner dancing we've been practising in class.
On the drive home, I turned a corner to be met by a shirtless, middle aged man with a leaf blower. Saying that he was pudgy would have been an understatement, and I think that he may have been blind too. I didn't see a single leaf on that corner, just perfectly manicured, day old cut lawn.
I managed to make it past the disturbing sight of Mr lawn maintenance, and to distract myself as I unpacked my groceries, I planned the week in my head, and was feeling very organised and on top of things. I stopped feeling this way very quickly after I hit my head on the roof of the fridge, and instead felt like a little child while I whinged to myself. I'm definitely old and wise enough to live by myself...
Xx, Little Duck
After class I went to do the shopping, and managed to escape any horrified stares by old ladies. So far so good. I had to buy some vitamins, and I knew what I needed, so it shouldn't have been a problem, despite the fact that I had to identify the right bottles among the hundreds of others on the shelves. I'm sure I would have only been there a few minutes, but there was a Woolworths employee restocking the same shelves that I was trying to search. Every time I tried to move my trolley and check the next section along, she would try to move hers into the same place and put her bottles into the slots I was getting them out of. In the end I was there for a good ten minutes doing an awkward shuffle with my trolley. It's not really the type of partner dancing we've been practising in class.
On the drive home, I turned a corner to be met by a shirtless, middle aged man with a leaf blower. Saying that he was pudgy would have been an understatement, and I think that he may have been blind too. I didn't see a single leaf on that corner, just perfectly manicured, day old cut lawn.
I managed to make it past the disturbing sight of Mr lawn maintenance, and to distract myself as I unpacked my groceries, I planned the week in my head, and was feeling very organised and on top of things. I stopped feeling this way very quickly after I hit my head on the roof of the fridge, and instead felt like a little child while I whinged to myself. I'm definitely old and wise enough to live by myself...
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 16 February 2014
No use crying over spilt... bolognaise?
I went on a road trip today. After doing some boring things like washing and making the bed, I hit the road and headed for the Illawarra region. An easy trip that followed the highway and took less that an hour soon turned into a marathon as ridiculous fog enveloped the highway and you couldn't see more that 5 meters ahead. Signs advised that drivers turn on their hazard lights to achieve maximum visibility, and instead of worrying about the fog, I became concerned about what would happen if I needed to use my blinkers. I'm good at prioritising.
When I was almost there, I realised that I wouldn't have time to eat my sandwich before I went in to the talk I was attending, so I put the container on my lap and took bites while at red lights. It was working just fine until I met with a corner that tipped the bolognaise contents under my drivers seat. Sure it was hard to clean when I arrived, but the worst part was smelling it and not being able to eat it.
When I finally made it inside (right on time,) I listened to the director of an upcoming musical describe his vision for the piece and detail the characters, and I thought that it was really great, until he said that he wouldn't be sharing any more with us, because "hashtag spoilers!!" I'm not sure he knows that real life doesn't support hashtags, but I was too afraid to say anything, as a grown man insane enough to yell that zealously, is probably capable of a comeback that is so ridiculous it might actually burn.
While watching SYTYCD, I glanced up and saw what looked like smoke floating across my light. I freaked out and started glancing around and sniffing crazily, before realising that it was steam, and that it was from the egg I had put on to boil and forgotten about. At least I can be sure that the yolk wont leak through my bag tomorrow.
I was also very passionate about putting through a particular dancer/choreographer because he had just nailed dance, until they zoomed out, and I got more than I bargained for when I saw that he was wearing very tight bike shorts. My zeal dropped quite a bit after this, but he still got though. Unfortunately, what has been seen cannot be unseen.
After receiving an odd call from guy named Jack who wanted to know my address because of the "paper" I told him that he either had the wrong number or the wrong kind of paper, and now I'm off to make the rest of my lunch, with the hope that I don't do something odd to my carrot sticks.
Xx, Little Duck
When I was almost there, I realised that I wouldn't have time to eat my sandwich before I went in to the talk I was attending, so I put the container on my lap and took bites while at red lights. It was working just fine until I met with a corner that tipped the bolognaise contents under my drivers seat. Sure it was hard to clean when I arrived, but the worst part was smelling it and not being able to eat it.
When I finally made it inside (right on time,) I listened to the director of an upcoming musical describe his vision for the piece and detail the characters, and I thought that it was really great, until he said that he wouldn't be sharing any more with us, because "hashtag spoilers!!" I'm not sure he knows that real life doesn't support hashtags, but I was too afraid to say anything, as a grown man insane enough to yell that zealously, is probably capable of a comeback that is so ridiculous it might actually burn.
While watching SYTYCD, I glanced up and saw what looked like smoke floating across my light. I freaked out and started glancing around and sniffing crazily, before realising that it was steam, and that it was from the egg I had put on to boil and forgotten about. At least I can be sure that the yolk wont leak through my bag tomorrow.
I was also very passionate about putting through a particular dancer/choreographer because he had just nailed dance, until they zoomed out, and I got more than I bargained for when I saw that he was wearing very tight bike shorts. My zeal dropped quite a bit after this, but he still got though. Unfortunately, what has been seen cannot be unseen.
After receiving an odd call from guy named Jack who wanted to know my address because of the "paper" I told him that he either had the wrong number or the wrong kind of paper, and now I'm off to make the rest of my lunch, with the hope that I don't do something odd to my carrot sticks.
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 15 February 2014
Human Zoo
My trip into the city last night was just as eventful as I had hoped it would be.
Being valentines day, the harbour was packed, and the first thing I saw when I got off the train was the station floor covered in rose petals. I'm not sure if somebody had dropped their bouquet there, or if there had been a proposal. I really hope that it was the first option, because otherwise it would have to have been the least romantic proposal in history.
I have always loved people watching, and here in the city, there are so many to watch! My friends had missed the train we were catching, and so while I waited for them a Circular Quay, I amused myself by just looking and listening. The first sight wasn't quite so pleasant, as it was a couple making out against the ticket machine I was standing next to. They didn't even care that people were waiting to use the machine, they were just going for it. I was hoping that I could make them feel awkward by staring at them, maybe causing them to stop, but they didn't even notice. I then tried obviously not looking, but nothing I did had any impact. They finally left, but not before I was a little sick in my mouth.
Next, there was a couple walking by, and the guy was carrying quite a large bunch of roses. Either he has a very unconventional and thoughtful girlfriend, or she's both ungrateful and lazy. "Thanks babe, they're beautiful! Carry them for me will you?"
One girl had gone the extra mile to look special for her date, wearing a beautiful blue dress and hair piece, finished off with chunky yellow foam thongs.
Despite these very love orientated observations, my favourite would have to be the completely valentines unrelated and over the top conversation snippet I heard from a middle aged bald man in a tailored suit with trendy shoes and sunglasses. He passed just in front of me, gesticulating wildly, and practically yelled; "she was saying she looks like Lady Gaga, and I freaked out!!"
After these colourful happenings, we walked along the harbour, and I spent the night with one of the great loves of my life; food. Namely dessert. It was all I could do not to walk out of the Guylian restaurant having bought one of everything in their pastry case. I didn't even let myself buy a macaron. Let that sink in.
Today has also happened to be extremely eventful. I headed into the city early to take a six hour responsible gambling course in the hope of getting work, and found myself walking past the Sunrise studio at channel 7, and then on an amazing street of shops that I checked during my breaks.
While I ate lunch at McDonalds, a young guy walked through the door, all by himself and danced his way up to the counter, and there was a guy standing in the same spot all day mumbling, and yelling at random strangers "you are what's wrong with society!"
My most amusing encounter however, happened on the way home. For the first time ever, I was asked for/gave somebody my number. As I window shopped on my way back to the station, I was stopped by a guy grabbing my arm. He said he had noticed me walking past and wanted to tell me he thought I was pretty, and then proceeded to grab my hand and slow dance with me in the middle of the street. His name was Rob, and he was completely crazy. Thank you Rob for being so awesome.
Little Duck, out
Being valentines day, the harbour was packed, and the first thing I saw when I got off the train was the station floor covered in rose petals. I'm not sure if somebody had dropped their bouquet there, or if there had been a proposal. I really hope that it was the first option, because otherwise it would have to have been the least romantic proposal in history.
I have always loved people watching, and here in the city, there are so many to watch! My friends had missed the train we were catching, and so while I waited for them a Circular Quay, I amused myself by just looking and listening. The first sight wasn't quite so pleasant, as it was a couple making out against the ticket machine I was standing next to. They didn't even care that people were waiting to use the machine, they were just going for it. I was hoping that I could make them feel awkward by staring at them, maybe causing them to stop, but they didn't even notice. I then tried obviously not looking, but nothing I did had any impact. They finally left, but not before I was a little sick in my mouth.
Next, there was a couple walking by, and the guy was carrying quite a large bunch of roses. Either he has a very unconventional and thoughtful girlfriend, or she's both ungrateful and lazy. "Thanks babe, they're beautiful! Carry them for me will you?"
One girl had gone the extra mile to look special for her date, wearing a beautiful blue dress and hair piece, finished off with chunky yellow foam thongs.
Despite these very love orientated observations, my favourite would have to be the completely valentines unrelated and over the top conversation snippet I heard from a middle aged bald man in a tailored suit with trendy shoes and sunglasses. He passed just in front of me, gesticulating wildly, and practically yelled; "she was saying she looks like Lady Gaga, and I freaked out!!"
After these colourful happenings, we walked along the harbour, and I spent the night with one of the great loves of my life; food. Namely dessert. It was all I could do not to walk out of the Guylian restaurant having bought one of everything in their pastry case. I didn't even let myself buy a macaron. Let that sink in.
Today has also happened to be extremely eventful. I headed into the city early to take a six hour responsible gambling course in the hope of getting work, and found myself walking past the Sunrise studio at channel 7, and then on an amazing street of shops that I checked during my breaks.
While I ate lunch at McDonalds, a young guy walked through the door, all by himself and danced his way up to the counter, and there was a guy standing in the same spot all day mumbling, and yelling at random strangers "you are what's wrong with society!"
My most amusing encounter however, happened on the way home. For the first time ever, I was asked for/gave somebody my number. As I window shopped on my way back to the station, I was stopped by a guy grabbing my arm. He said he had noticed me walking past and wanted to tell me he thought I was pretty, and then proceeded to grab my hand and slow dance with me in the middle of the street. His name was Rob, and he was completely crazy. Thank you Rob for being so awesome.
Little Duck, out
Thursday, 13 February 2014
Transit trauma
It finally happened. I missed a night of blogging. Gasp! In my defence, I was on an adventure in a suburb with no trains, and due to my lack of current technology (phone wise) I couldn't write it on the go. The really good news though, is that it was a really great adventure, and a few amusing things came of it. After losing a friend at town Hall station, who couldn't find the right street, we regrouped and made it to our destination via bus and walking, and let me tell you, never wear your jumper on a walk in an effort to free your hands. It's more likely to kill you from heat exhaustion than save you from looking like dag. Once there we ate a lot of fruit, crackers and dip, and cookies, and then settled down to watch a musical, and ended the night with some good old Youtube pranks.
After these fun times, my friend and I had to catch a train, and then make our way from the train station to my car, in the dark, and then drive home. The train trip was fine, and I witnessed an extremely interesting old guy with a West Side Story style Mohawk coif, but rather wiry and thinning, He also snored.
It was pretty late by the time we got off the train, and we only had one well lit block to walk to the car, but I had parked on the top story of a complex, and we didn't know how to get back up there. We rounded a corner, and as soon as we did, we saw a group of people milling around, and heard two loud bangs. We panicked and ran back around the corner as fast as we could, and hid in the garden for a minute just to be safe. After calming down a little, we ventured back out, crossed the road in a hurry, and decided to skip looking for a pedestrian entry and just climb the down ramps to the top floor. We got there, and can just say, that I was stupid enough to wear my jumper again.
When I finally got home (and eventually found a park a billion miles from my house, as the parking bandit had struck again,) I was greeted by a giant slug, casually oozing its way across my floor, and I discovered that all my lovely gerberas in vases were not so alive any more.
This morning my alarm didn't go off, and I woke up 20 mins before I had to leave, but mum, I still managed to make my bed. You have done well. I bluffed my way through an audition class, and two different Hip Hop classes that had taken their day's focus as Robin Thicke. They were interesting, but really good. All in all, today has been no where near as exciting as yesterday, but I am heading back into the city tonight for a giant group dessert date at the Guylian café, and so I'm sure there will be more stories tomorrow.
Xx, Little Duck
After these fun times, my friend and I had to catch a train, and then make our way from the train station to my car, in the dark, and then drive home. The train trip was fine, and I witnessed an extremely interesting old guy with a West Side Story style Mohawk coif, but rather wiry and thinning, He also snored.
It was pretty late by the time we got off the train, and we only had one well lit block to walk to the car, but I had parked on the top story of a complex, and we didn't know how to get back up there. We rounded a corner, and as soon as we did, we saw a group of people milling around, and heard two loud bangs. We panicked and ran back around the corner as fast as we could, and hid in the garden for a minute just to be safe. After calming down a little, we ventured back out, crossed the road in a hurry, and decided to skip looking for a pedestrian entry and just climb the down ramps to the top floor. We got there, and can just say, that I was stupid enough to wear my jumper again.
When I finally got home (and eventually found a park a billion miles from my house, as the parking bandit had struck again,) I was greeted by a giant slug, casually oozing its way across my floor, and I discovered that all my lovely gerberas in vases were not so alive any more.
This morning my alarm didn't go off, and I woke up 20 mins before I had to leave, but mum, I still managed to make my bed. You have done well. I bluffed my way through an audition class, and two different Hip Hop classes that had taken their day's focus as Robin Thicke. They were interesting, but really good. All in all, today has been no where near as exciting as yesterday, but I am heading back into the city tonight for a giant group dessert date at the Guylian café, and so I'm sure there will be more stories tomorrow.
Xx, Little Duck
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
Stubbed pride
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not one to squeal or scream, even when watching horror movies. During today's contemporary class however, I discovered a disturbing and embarrassing habit. Our teacher made the comment that when watching everyone, he found it extremely amusing to listen to their effort noises. Apparently everyone has one, whether they are aware of it or not. This got me thinking, and I started listening for mine, and lo and behold, I found that I sound like a mouse on steroids. Every time I attempt a new jump, landing or roll, an odd, high squeak comes out, even when I try to stop it. I don't think that this is really going to impress potential employers, and it doesn't do much for my self-esteem either; I feel like an over excited year old, or one of those children that are allergic to everything and are easily scared.
I managed to one up myself at the supermarket this afternoon, and although there were no old ladies there to gossip about my attire, I'm sure they would have had a field day. I was making a quick trip on the way home to grab some baking things and nail polish remover (two very normal, every day essentials that every one needs) and didn't remember until I was almost inside, that the length of my singlet made it look like I wasn't wearing any pants. At the same time I had this realisation, I made accidental eye contact with an elderly man passing me, and caught one of my thongs on the asphalt, stubbing my toe, and adding a little more embarrassment to the mix. Not only was I not wearing an appropriate amount of clothing, but I had to make an entrance to ensure that everybody noticed.
I did however experience a small win when got home, in the form of parking my car. Since last Saturday, an unidentified car has been nicking my spot. No matter what time I left or came home, it would be there gloating, and forcing me to park all the way down the street. Today when I got home, it was conspicuously absent, and I was not complaining. Perhaps my hurrying through the supermarket because of my anti-trouser appearance meant that I beat them home. Whatever the reason, I experienced my first major urban parking space victory.
Right now I am experiencing a dilemma over the simple domestic chore that is mopping. I don't know what detergent to use, how quickly the floor will dry, or which corner to start in. First world, OCD problems. Who need them?
Little Duck, out.
I managed to one up myself at the supermarket this afternoon, and although there were no old ladies there to gossip about my attire, I'm sure they would have had a field day. I was making a quick trip on the way home to grab some baking things and nail polish remover (two very normal, every day essentials that every one needs) and didn't remember until I was almost inside, that the length of my singlet made it look like I wasn't wearing any pants. At the same time I had this realisation, I made accidental eye contact with an elderly man passing me, and caught one of my thongs on the asphalt, stubbing my toe, and adding a little more embarrassment to the mix. Not only was I not wearing an appropriate amount of clothing, but I had to make an entrance to ensure that everybody noticed.
I did however experience a small win when got home, in the form of parking my car. Since last Saturday, an unidentified car has been nicking my spot. No matter what time I left or came home, it would be there gloating, and forcing me to park all the way down the street. Today when I got home, it was conspicuously absent, and I was not complaining. Perhaps my hurrying through the supermarket because of my anti-trouser appearance meant that I beat them home. Whatever the reason, I experienced my first major urban parking space victory.
Right now I am experiencing a dilemma over the simple domestic chore that is mopping. I don't know what detergent to use, how quickly the floor will dry, or which corner to start in. First world, OCD problems. Who need them?
Little Duck, out.
They hear me rollin'
Hand Jive? Forget it. Try the full on jive. So much fun, and so much cardio. Feeling like a cross between a Grease company member and a Wiggle, I hopped my way through my first lesson in his style, and just when I felt like I was about to drop, we moved on to the Tango. Not only have I never done the Tango, but I had to do it with another girl who had never done it before, and we were supposed to create the feeling that we were wildly passionate about something. I was wildly passionate about getting the footwork right, and not smacking into people or standing on my partners toes. I did however receive my share of smacks and stomps. I think it's safe to say that I managed to create a new and very clean version of the tango, one with no sex appeal whatsoever, just one that creates lots of blisters.
As soon as I got home I fell onto the couch, and woke up an hour later, starving and groggy. After trying to put the peanut butter jar in the fruit dish and my banana skin in the cupboard, I decided that some physical activity was required before I attempted to use a knife at dinner. To achieve this, I tried to go on with my choreography homework, but achieved nothing more than a few more bruises, and ended up laying on the floor laughing at myself.
I then used my foam roller to try and loosen my muscles, and I'm sure that my landlords must have thought that I was being murdered. Despite my trying to enjoy the exercise by thinking of the relief that it would eventually bring, pained moans kept escaping from my lips, and I ended up just curled in a ball making whimpy whinging noises. I'm not proud of the way I reacted, but in my defence, I didn't stop, I finished the whole thing before I crumbled. If a police investigation squad doesn't burst through my door soon, then I will be very surprised, and quite relieved that no one heard me.
Long story short, I am still alive, and I did manage to use a knife to make dinner, without accidental amputation of any extremities.
Alive to roll another day,
Xx, Little Duck
As soon as I got home I fell onto the couch, and woke up an hour later, starving and groggy. After trying to put the peanut butter jar in the fruit dish and my banana skin in the cupboard, I decided that some physical activity was required before I attempted to use a knife at dinner. To achieve this, I tried to go on with my choreography homework, but achieved nothing more than a few more bruises, and ended up laying on the floor laughing at myself.
I then used my foam roller to try and loosen my muscles, and I'm sure that my landlords must have thought that I was being murdered. Despite my trying to enjoy the exercise by thinking of the relief that it would eventually bring, pained moans kept escaping from my lips, and I ended up just curled in a ball making whimpy whinging noises. I'm not proud of the way I reacted, but in my defence, I didn't stop, I finished the whole thing before I crumbled. If a police investigation squad doesn't burst through my door soon, then I will be very surprised, and quite relieved that no one heard me.
Long story short, I am still alive, and I did manage to use a knife to make dinner, without accidental amputation of any extremities.
Alive to roll another day,
Xx, Little Duck
Monday, 10 February 2014
Troll with a trolley
I am horribly ashamed of myself. As of today, I can no longer say that I have never twerked. It wasn't exactly the Miley Cyrus kind, but there was definitely some awkward butt and B-girl crotch action. In my defence, it was not voluntary, but part of a routine by a visiting choreographer of the commercial Jazz style. If that's what it takes to make it commercially these days, I think it's very lucky that I'm aiming for music theatre. I felt both violated, and as if I had done some violating.
The rest of the day passed without any other major feelings of adding to the worlds culture issues, although I didn't seem to be able to make many positive impressions either. As I left the supermarket with my trolley, a young boy told his sister that if she didn't walk faster, then I would run her over. That's a pretty standard sort of threat I thought, because I'm pretty sure my dad has said the same kind of thing to me before, but the difference was, that this girl seemed genuinely terrified. She didn't stop running the rest of the way to the car, and kept looking back over her shoulder at me. I know I look a bit bedraggled and odd after class, but I didn't think that I looked like a troll.
I came home to work on my choreography home work, which requires us to base our movements around an object of our choosing, and me being me, I picked a wooden spoon. Despite all my best efforts, all I have ended up with so far are a few awkward hops, and a series of painful bruises. Hopefully that means I will at least get points for trying.
At the moment I'm watching SYTYCD, and making my landlords cookies for inviting me to dinner the other night, and just for being genuinely lovely people, but a lot of the dough seems to be disappearing before it makes the oven. How odd.
Xx, Little Duck
The rest of the day passed without any other major feelings of adding to the worlds culture issues, although I didn't seem to be able to make many positive impressions either. As I left the supermarket with my trolley, a young boy told his sister that if she didn't walk faster, then I would run her over. That's a pretty standard sort of threat I thought, because I'm pretty sure my dad has said the same kind of thing to me before, but the difference was, that this girl seemed genuinely terrified. She didn't stop running the rest of the way to the car, and kept looking back over her shoulder at me. I know I look a bit bedraggled and odd after class, but I didn't think that I looked like a troll.
I came home to work on my choreography home work, which requires us to base our movements around an object of our choosing, and me being me, I picked a wooden spoon. Despite all my best efforts, all I have ended up with so far are a few awkward hops, and a series of painful bruises. Hopefully that means I will at least get points for trying.
At the moment I'm watching SYTYCD, and making my landlords cookies for inviting me to dinner the other night, and just for being genuinely lovely people, but a lot of the dough seems to be disappearing before it makes the oven. How odd.
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Correct signage please
Today's beautiful weather took me to the iconic Bondi beach, and due to the ridiculous amount of people there all the time, this provided some amazing chances for people watching.
I had my first interesting encounter before I even reached the beach. Sitting at the bus stop in Bondi Junction station, I was passed by an older man wearing a dark blue pair of sequined spandex shorts. He seemed very proud of his fashion choices, but I think I was very lucky that I only caught glimpses in my peripherals, as an eyeful probably would have killed me.
One we reached the beach, we decided to grab some food, and started exploring the numerous chain stores and little cafes, and we stopped by a sushi store. A little kid was sitting there with his dad, mouth full of sushi, which he suddenly spat out and yelled, "this comes from the ocean?! Eewww!!!" He then threw his half chewed, ocean sourced mush onto the ground, and I quickly decided that I didn't want sushi anymore.
Once we hit the beach, we got distracted by how beautiful and perfect everything seemed, but as time wore on, we became convinced that we had missed some important signage. As in very important signage. We were talking, and then the next time we looked around, a disturbing number of the females surrounding us were topless, and that amount just kept growing. We were on the main beach, surrounded by families, and occasionally passed by the mounted police, and no one seemed to care very much, except a few unsavoury males who made no effort whatsoever to ogle discreetly.
We then finished the day with a self serve frozen yoghurt experience, which was delicious, very exciting, and extremely filling. For some reason, it also scored me a free beach ball. Who was I to say no?
My day became even better on the walk home from the station as I passed a park. An elderly Asian man was standing all by himself, facing a large, empty patch of grass, and was animatedly bobbing up and down, flicking his wrists and waving his arms as though conducting a large, invisible orchestra. Bravo, I say.
I am now topping off this awesome day by watching the new So You Think You Can Dance, and feeling very in the loop, because I know so many contestants now!
Xx, Little Duck
I had my first interesting encounter before I even reached the beach. Sitting at the bus stop in Bondi Junction station, I was passed by an older man wearing a dark blue pair of sequined spandex shorts. He seemed very proud of his fashion choices, but I think I was very lucky that I only caught glimpses in my peripherals, as an eyeful probably would have killed me.
One we reached the beach, we decided to grab some food, and started exploring the numerous chain stores and little cafes, and we stopped by a sushi store. A little kid was sitting there with his dad, mouth full of sushi, which he suddenly spat out and yelled, "this comes from the ocean?! Eewww!!!" He then threw his half chewed, ocean sourced mush onto the ground, and I quickly decided that I didn't want sushi anymore.
Once we hit the beach, we got distracted by how beautiful and perfect everything seemed, but as time wore on, we became convinced that we had missed some important signage. As in very important signage. We were talking, and then the next time we looked around, a disturbing number of the females surrounding us were topless, and that amount just kept growing. We were on the main beach, surrounded by families, and occasionally passed by the mounted police, and no one seemed to care very much, except a few unsavoury males who made no effort whatsoever to ogle discreetly.
We then finished the day with a self serve frozen yoghurt experience, which was delicious, very exciting, and extremely filling. For some reason, it also scored me a free beach ball. Who was I to say no?
My day became even better on the walk home from the station as I passed a park. An elderly Asian man was standing all by himself, facing a large, empty patch of grass, and was animatedly bobbing up and down, flicking his wrists and waving his arms as though conducting a large, invisible orchestra. Bravo, I say.
I am now topping off this awesome day by watching the new So You Think You Can Dance, and feeling very in the loop, because I know so many contestants now!
Xx, Little Duck
Friday, 7 February 2014
Undead? No problem
Saturday sleep ins are the best, but they always make me feel lazy. I decided that I should go adventuring again this weekend so that I didn't feel quite as lazy once I got up.
The adventure began as soon as I left my flat, as next doors cat tried to jump over the gate at the same time I went to open it. We gave each other a heart attack, took a deep breath, and then walked off like nothing had happened.
My first stop was the post office, where the people did not seem fussed that my lack of phone could be a potential difficulty in finding employment and remaining alive in particular tense situations. They sent my loan phone back to Optus due to a slight name/address error that deemed me unable to authorise pickup. Yipee for technological dependency, right? I have survived one week though, so I'm sure I can go one more.
Next up was another trip to the Westfield, as I'm determined to conquer its billion floors without getting helplessly lost each time. I went on the hunt for my old friend the bookshop, and came away with an extremely practical and potentially life saving book; "The Zombie Survival Guide." When it's written by the author of World War Z, and describes the Solanum virus in detail - including the part where it has never been found in an isolated case anywhere in nature, ever, - it has to be reliable right? It's been a pretty interesting read so far, and my favourite part is how seriously the whole thing has been taken. I'm sure Mr. Max Brooks would be quite offended to know that his well researched, comprehensive guide to surviving the Zombie apocalypse was filed under the 'humour' section in my local QBD bookstore.
I think it is also worth mentioning that while in line to purchase this new book, the little girl in front of me kept screaming "my boobies hurt!!" while her mother pretended not to hear her by feigning avid interest in the wildlife bookmarks on sale.
Next were a few less exciting purchases, such as a foam therapy roller to prevent my muscles from dying, and some new workout gear, followed by a trip to a new little café. This one presented a far more satisfactory iced beverage than the last, with cream, ice cream, milk, good quality strawberry flavouring, and no ice. Their Cannoli was a little suspicious though. I've never had one before, so I don't pretend to be an expert, but I've heard people rave about them, so I had high expectations. Instead of sweet fried pastry dough with a light ricotta chocolate custard, mine was a bit more like a stale fried tortilla with congealed Yogo in the middle. Looks like I'll be searching for a new place again next weekend!
Little Duck, Out.
The adventure began as soon as I left my flat, as next doors cat tried to jump over the gate at the same time I went to open it. We gave each other a heart attack, took a deep breath, and then walked off like nothing had happened.
My first stop was the post office, where the people did not seem fussed that my lack of phone could be a potential difficulty in finding employment and remaining alive in particular tense situations. They sent my loan phone back to Optus due to a slight name/address error that deemed me unable to authorise pickup. Yipee for technological dependency, right? I have survived one week though, so I'm sure I can go one more.
Next up was another trip to the Westfield, as I'm determined to conquer its billion floors without getting helplessly lost each time. I went on the hunt for my old friend the bookshop, and came away with an extremely practical and potentially life saving book; "The Zombie Survival Guide." When it's written by the author of World War Z, and describes the Solanum virus in detail - including the part where it has never been found in an isolated case anywhere in nature, ever, - it has to be reliable right? It's been a pretty interesting read so far, and my favourite part is how seriously the whole thing has been taken. I'm sure Mr. Max Brooks would be quite offended to know that his well researched, comprehensive guide to surviving the Zombie apocalypse was filed under the 'humour' section in my local QBD bookstore.
I think it is also worth mentioning that while in line to purchase this new book, the little girl in front of me kept screaming "my boobies hurt!!" while her mother pretended not to hear her by feigning avid interest in the wildlife bookmarks on sale.
Next were a few less exciting purchases, such as a foam therapy roller to prevent my muscles from dying, and some new workout gear, followed by a trip to a new little café. This one presented a far more satisfactory iced beverage than the last, with cream, ice cream, milk, good quality strawberry flavouring, and no ice. Their Cannoli was a little suspicious though. I've never had one before, so I don't pretend to be an expert, but I've heard people rave about them, so I had high expectations. Instead of sweet fried pastry dough with a light ricotta chocolate custard, mine was a bit more like a stale fried tortilla with congealed Yogo in the middle. Looks like I'll be searching for a new place again next weekend!
Little Duck, Out.
Reasons to break the law
There seems to be a theme with pretending to be odd things in class recently. Today I got to be Spaghetti numerous times, as well as imagining that I was stamping on ants and flicking goo off my arms at the same time. It was actually really fun, and a time that I was allowed to be completely uncoordinated and silly, and not have to be the only one!
I encountered a few more interesting things in morning traffic today. I saw a sign on my way down the highway that said "Going to miss you gorgeous." Even my suburb misses me when I leave in the morning. There was also a bright red car in front of me that said all over it, in bold letters; "The Lube Van." I think it needs to be a little more specific, because I still have no idea exactly what kind of business they are...
I am still coming to grips with the crazy road rules here in the city, namely the no right turn signs at traffic lights. Some never permit a right turn, while others prohibit them during particular high traffic periods. My problem is (as happened today) that if I am a few cars back from the sign, and am not wearing my glasses, I can't see which hours are prohibited. This stressed me greatly, because that particular right turn was all that was standing between me and my greatly anticipated cheese burger. With the stakes that high, I wasn't letting anything stand in my way, and decided to turn right anyway. Luckily this was legal, and I wasn't arrested or anything, but even if I was, I think it's safe to say that it would have been worth it.
I'm off to meet a professional magician now, so toodleoo :)
Xx, Little Duck
I encountered a few more interesting things in morning traffic today. I saw a sign on my way down the highway that said "Going to miss you gorgeous." Even my suburb misses me when I leave in the morning. There was also a bright red car in front of me that said all over it, in bold letters; "The Lube Van." I think it needs to be a little more specific, because I still have no idea exactly what kind of business they are...
I am still coming to grips with the crazy road rules here in the city, namely the no right turn signs at traffic lights. Some never permit a right turn, while others prohibit them during particular high traffic periods. My problem is (as happened today) that if I am a few cars back from the sign, and am not wearing my glasses, I can't see which hours are prohibited. This stressed me greatly, because that particular right turn was all that was standing between me and my greatly anticipated cheese burger. With the stakes that high, I wasn't letting anything stand in my way, and decided to turn right anyway. Luckily this was legal, and I wasn't arrested or anything, but even if I was, I think it's safe to say that it would have been worth it.
I'm off to meet a professional magician now, so toodleoo :)
Xx, Little Duck
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Waddling on
So this morning I woke up to find a grub thing in my toothbrush. It was probably the most disgusting thing I have ever seen, and I went to buy myself a new one as soon as I finished class. Given this disturbing piece of information, I would like to think that you will all forgive the fact that I didn't clean my teeth this morning.
I got to pretend to be a penguin in composition, which was the coolest, and oddest thing to be. We looked at a picture of some cheeky penguins (which the teacher had decided were drunk,) listened to some music, and then had to physicalize the ideas and feelings that they bought to mind. I think if there were any real penguins there, they would have been offended/bewildered at my portrayal, but luckily for me, our teacher believes the weirder the movement, the better. Good.
I went to a new shopping centre today (to get my new toothbrush,) and forgot what a mess I was until I got inside. To paint you a picture, I was wearing 3/4 tights over a leotard, my ponytail had fallen precariously to the side, and was quite sweaty, and I finished the look with joggers, and my sunglasses on my head. I passed a couple of elderly ladies having a gossip outside the newsagency, and they stopped mid conversation with looks of horror on their faces. I guess the tight-ness of my clothing both disgusted and confused them, as I was showing skin without actually showing skin. It can't be all bad though, as I probably gave them something new to talk about.
I would just like to share with you all my excitement that tomorrow I get to eat a cheese burger. I made a deal with myself that if I worked hard and ate well, I could have one at the end of the week. There is no need to guess what my motivation will be tomorrow :)
Xx, Little Duck
I got to pretend to be a penguin in composition, which was the coolest, and oddest thing to be. We looked at a picture of some cheeky penguins (which the teacher had decided were drunk,) listened to some music, and then had to physicalize the ideas and feelings that they bought to mind. I think if there were any real penguins there, they would have been offended/bewildered at my portrayal, but luckily for me, our teacher believes the weirder the movement, the better. Good.
I went to a new shopping centre today (to get my new toothbrush,) and forgot what a mess I was until I got inside. To paint you a picture, I was wearing 3/4 tights over a leotard, my ponytail had fallen precariously to the side, and was quite sweaty, and I finished the look with joggers, and my sunglasses on my head. I passed a couple of elderly ladies having a gossip outside the newsagency, and they stopped mid conversation with looks of horror on their faces. I guess the tight-ness of my clothing both disgusted and confused them, as I was showing skin without actually showing skin. It can't be all bad though, as I probably gave them something new to talk about.
I would just like to share with you all my excitement that tomorrow I get to eat a cheese burger. I made a deal with myself that if I worked hard and ate well, I could have one at the end of the week. There is no need to guess what my motivation will be tomorrow :)
Xx, Little Duck
Wednesday, 5 February 2014
Arms wanted
Today I was full of enthusiasm, because I have decided that if I'm going to willingly put myself through pain every day, I may as well learn to love it. As I drove to class, I saw a lady jogging, but her arms were literally swinging up around her ears, and I took this as an omen that enthusiasm is what counts.
We began the day with contemporary, which I had never done before, but was very excited about. After finding out what was required for all the amazing floor work, I would like to put out a classified add. Any girl with nice lean, but extremely strong arms (especially triceps,) I would love to swap you. I can pay you in baking, and then you can have the challenge of strengthening my tiny little arms.
Next up we had break dance tricking, which I was a little apprehensive about, but I was ready to do some cool flips and look like a gangster, or something like that. There was just one problem. Apparently, most basic tricks grow out of the handstand. Which I cannot do. While everyone else was trying out the fancy variations like salutes, holds and elbow stands, I was practising my handstands. And again, if those arms are available, I'll take them.
Tomorrow we start learning how to choreograph, and that makes me laugh a little. Not only do I struggle to execute other peoples choreography with the elegance and control required, but now I have to try to create the moves that I can't do. I guess now at least I can say that awkward was my artistic aim, and then maybe I will get it right for once :)
Well I'm off to sit upside down against a wall for a while,
Little Duck, out.
P.S, If a Sydney driver has their blinker on, it doesn't actually mean that they are going to turn or merge, and just because they don't have their blinker on, does not mean that they aren't going to cut in. Go figure.
We began the day with contemporary, which I had never done before, but was very excited about. After finding out what was required for all the amazing floor work, I would like to put out a classified add. Any girl with nice lean, but extremely strong arms (especially triceps,) I would love to swap you. I can pay you in baking, and then you can have the challenge of strengthening my tiny little arms.
Next up we had break dance tricking, which I was a little apprehensive about, but I was ready to do some cool flips and look like a gangster, or something like that. There was just one problem. Apparently, most basic tricks grow out of the handstand. Which I cannot do. While everyone else was trying out the fancy variations like salutes, holds and elbow stands, I was practising my handstands. And again, if those arms are available, I'll take them.
Tomorrow we start learning how to choreograph, and that makes me laugh a little. Not only do I struggle to execute other peoples choreography with the elegance and control required, but now I have to try to create the moves that I can't do. I guess now at least I can say that awkward was my artistic aim, and then maybe I will get it right for once :)
Well I'm off to sit upside down against a wall for a while,
Little Duck, out.
P.S, If a Sydney driver has their blinker on, it doesn't actually mean that they are going to turn or merge, and just because they don't have their blinker on, does not mean that they aren't going to cut in. Go figure.
Monday, 3 February 2014
My hips lie
This course had better give me an amazing butt. That appears to be the only part of me that was really in pain when I got up this morning. I'm afraid that this will not be the case tomorrow, and my main point of concern is my feet. I am beginning to fear that they may actually fall off in my sleep, and the bleeding that this would cause could potentially cause death. In my current phoneless situation, I wouldn't be able to call for help, so it could be ages before anyone found me. To that future person, I apologise for how much I am probably going to smell at that point.
Today we started latin classes, which are so much fun, and our teacher is amazing. His name is Aric, and he just finished on Dancing with the Stars as Rihnnon Fish's partner, and is currently choreographing ballroom styles for So You Think You Can Dance Australia. As much I loved the class, I discovered an odd condition that I don't think will be very conducive to my latin skills. My hips tend to just spasm in any direction that they choose, rather than the carefully set and rhythmic patterns choreographed. I know people say that there's no such thing as too much hip in a latin routine, but I think I proved them wrong today.
Despite my woeful hips, I did find the one activity that I haven't totally sucked at so far; skipping. Apparently that odd little up and down motion that I liked to use as my cop out for exercise, is actually quite hard for some people. Really? Even the old tricks I learned back in Primary school at Jump Rope for Heart were super impressive, and it turns out that 10mins of skipping is equal to 30 of running, so I haven't been taking the easy way out after all. I am one happy little jumper.
I's raining outside, and since I tracked mud onto the tiles when I came in, I should probably go and clean that. Goodnight humans that cannot possibly feel awkward or inadequate after reading these rambles,
Xx, Little Duck
Today we started latin classes, which are so much fun, and our teacher is amazing. His name is Aric, and he just finished on Dancing with the Stars as Rihnnon Fish's partner, and is currently choreographing ballroom styles for So You Think You Can Dance Australia. As much I loved the class, I discovered an odd condition that I don't think will be very conducive to my latin skills. My hips tend to just spasm in any direction that they choose, rather than the carefully set and rhythmic patterns choreographed. I know people say that there's no such thing as too much hip in a latin routine, but I think I proved them wrong today.
Despite my woeful hips, I did find the one activity that I haven't totally sucked at so far; skipping. Apparently that odd little up and down motion that I liked to use as my cop out for exercise, is actually quite hard for some people. Really? Even the old tricks I learned back in Primary school at Jump Rope for Heart were super impressive, and it turns out that 10mins of skipping is equal to 30 of running, so I haven't been taking the easy way out after all. I am one happy little jumper.
I's raining outside, and since I tracked mud onto the tiles when I came in, I should probably go and clean that. Goodnight humans that cannot possibly feel awkward or inadequate after reading these rambles,
Xx, Little Duck
Small wins
Today was hard. I could move pain free again, but that will definitely not be the case tomorrow. We started with an intense conditioning class, which was really great, and I made it through the morning relatively unscathed. That's where the manageable ended. I faked my way through another hip hop class of a different style, and tried to make up for my absolute lack of correct moves with attitude and sass, which unfortunately, seemed to come in the form of my arch nemesis; the duck face. I love ducks, but duck face is a completely different story.
My last class for the day was Acrobatics, which sounded both fun and scary, as I've never done it before, but more than anything, it just turned out to be hard. The best part of the class was one of our instructors, Dimitri. He's a soviet union expat with an amazing track record of training for the Olympics, and a really cool (if slightly amusing) accent. He can be a bit scary, but he's also very helpful. I think I'll end up wearing his patience a little thin though, as I'm the only person in the class that can't handstand. Awkward.
To top it all off, my phone died, and it won't be fixed for another two weeks. Even a shoddy loan phone doesn't sound so bad right now, but I won't have one of those for a couple of days.
The thing that turned my afternoon around was an item I encountered at the supermarket during my shopping. Check it out;
My last class for the day was Acrobatics, which sounded both fun and scary, as I've never done it before, but more than anything, it just turned out to be hard. The best part of the class was one of our instructors, Dimitri. He's a soviet union expat with an amazing track record of training for the Olympics, and a really cool (if slightly amusing) accent. He can be a bit scary, but he's also very helpful. I think I'll end up wearing his patience a little thin though, as I'm the only person in the class that can't handstand. Awkward.
To top it all off, my phone died, and it won't be fixed for another two weeks. Even a shoddy loan phone doesn't sound so bad right now, but I won't have one of those for a couple of days.
The thing that turned my afternoon around was an item I encountered at the supermarket during my shopping. Check it out;
It's called a manikin, and it is one of the cutest things I have ever seen. It's about the size of my palm, and perfect for someone who loves pumpkin, but never eats enough to justify buying a whole one. (aka, me.) This got me thinking about how much I love tiny things, and so, to make myself feel better, I spent a good 45 minutes when I got home searching them on the internet. Worth it.
My Little Pond
Oh. My. Gosh.
All the antioxidants!!
Yum :)
And lastly, mixing my love of tiny things and comical moustaches, this guy.
I will leave you to contemplate this now, as I have no more words.
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 2 February 2014
International love
Todays focus will be chain stores of the home improvement variety. I am a self confessed Office works fan, and so when I needed to have passport photos taken, of course I went there rather than a post office. My nearest store is about a 5 minute drive, and due to its 7 day availability, I decided to head out there on a sunday in an effort to ward off stir craziness. I had to park underground, and followed the arrows to the stairs, which had huge signs all over the door saying: "Fire exit. Do not obstruct. Do not leave open." Most people would heed these signs, but I guess that office works decided it would be cheaper to use a readily available (if prohibited) staircase, rather than build another one. I still felt like I was about to be arrested, but luckily, was not.
After I left, my travels took me past a sign for Bunnings, which I found quite odd. Thinking about it now, it's obvious that even a city needs building supplies, and universally handy items like hammers and tacks, but at the time, I just couldn't fathom what would happen to all the potting mix, plants and pond supplies, when the only gardens here appear to be made of pebbles.
Can I please just take this opportunity to say how much I love Sweden. Not only did it give us the amazing and iconic ABBA, but also the wonderland that is IKEA. My last stop for the day took me to the afforementioned wonderland in the hope of finding a not so shoddy fold up clothes line to avoid the clothes on the floor fiasco happening again.
I had never been to an IKEA before, and my nearest one happens to be the largest in the southern hemisphere. It is the size of a small city, and could easily survive as one. I would live in that city. It has its own Swedish supermarket and a food court, where I got a hot dog and a soft drink with unlimited free refills for $2. The coke was a bit shoddy, but the swedish special flavour, lingon berry, was delicious. On top of this, the second floor contained a cafe and a restaurant. It was amazing. When I braved the show room, I saw so many young couples about to take the ultimate relationship test: the flat pack. I also discovered a fabrics section to rival spotlight, the homewares section (very dangerous for an interior design lover like me,) and a group of hipsters basing their choice of outdoor chairs on how overweight their friends were. Although I don't need one, if anyone ever bought me an IKEA voucher, you would probably never see me again. Not because I wouldn't love you anymore, but because I would be busy loving IKEA instead.
I'm going to stop writing now and drown out the child next to me repeatedly yelling "doors closing, please stand clear!!", by dreaming about the house I will one day fit out with IKEA.
One very happy little (Pop Art) Duck, out.
Saturday, 1 February 2014
Wishful drinking
I slept in today. It was the best. Not only did I not have to wake up at some ungodly hour to get ready for class, but I also managed to get out of bed without having to pretend I was a pensioner. With that extremely optimistic start to the day, I headed out to explore.
I started with a tiny café that I have passed numerous times since moving here, and have always wanted to check out. It is the smallest building I have ever seen, and is literally crammed in between two other buildings, with three little tables fighting for room. I ordered an Iced chocolate, and despite how much I wanted to like it, I would have to say that it was the worst iced chocolate I have ever had; just some chocolate topping and milk poured over ice. Apart from my disappointing beverage, I was pleased with my little adventure and decided that it was a great place to people watch, as it was right across from a station. I also found great satisfaction watching people come out of the nutritionist/gym next door, and thinking how glad I was that it was my day off.
I then went job hunting and handed out resumes at all the other quaint little cafes and places I thought suitable, and went home with slightly sore feet. While eating an extremely boring lunch, I fund myself talking to the people in the music videos on Channel [V], asking them about their lyrical choices, and berating them for being stupid. My main victim was Samantha Jade with "Soldier," as she is asking a guy if he would be her soldier, fight for her and die for her, when he hasn't even decided if he's going to stay the night, and in my opinion, does not look at all interested, no matter how many dresses she wears. As the song finished I realised I wasn't used to downtime and that I should get out of the house again.
My second attempt at my local Westfield went much better than the first, and I found the book shop. Even better, the cookbooks were on sale. I picked up healthy cooking one with a nutrition guide to help with my dance meals, and one that had sparkles on the front because it looked pretty. It has turned out to be an amazing book (a complete bargain for $9,) but I have discovered a sentence that I am not totally comfortable with; "these long expanses of pasta need lots of lubrication." Something about that just doesn't sit right with me.
I also developed a scepticism for fold up washing lines, as the trusty thin white wire ones have disappeared, replaced by thick barred ones with bulky plastic hinges that feel the need to advertise all over their packaging that they are high quality. Somehow I don't believe them.
I am now off to bed, reminded of the glorious fact that I get to sleep in again tomorrow!!
Xx, Little Duck
I started with a tiny café that I have passed numerous times since moving here, and have always wanted to check out. It is the smallest building I have ever seen, and is literally crammed in between two other buildings, with three little tables fighting for room. I ordered an Iced chocolate, and despite how much I wanted to like it, I would have to say that it was the worst iced chocolate I have ever had; just some chocolate topping and milk poured over ice. Apart from my disappointing beverage, I was pleased with my little adventure and decided that it was a great place to people watch, as it was right across from a station. I also found great satisfaction watching people come out of the nutritionist/gym next door, and thinking how glad I was that it was my day off.
I then went job hunting and handed out resumes at all the other quaint little cafes and places I thought suitable, and went home with slightly sore feet. While eating an extremely boring lunch, I fund myself talking to the people in the music videos on Channel [V], asking them about their lyrical choices, and berating them for being stupid. My main victim was Samantha Jade with "Soldier," as she is asking a guy if he would be her soldier, fight for her and die for her, when he hasn't even decided if he's going to stay the night, and in my opinion, does not look at all interested, no matter how many dresses she wears. As the song finished I realised I wasn't used to downtime and that I should get out of the house again.
My second attempt at my local Westfield went much better than the first, and I found the book shop. Even better, the cookbooks were on sale. I picked up healthy cooking one with a nutrition guide to help with my dance meals, and one that had sparkles on the front because it looked pretty. It has turned out to be an amazing book (a complete bargain for $9,) but I have discovered a sentence that I am not totally comfortable with; "these long expanses of pasta need lots of lubrication." Something about that just doesn't sit right with me.
I also developed a scepticism for fold up washing lines, as the trusty thin white wire ones have disappeared, replaced by thick barred ones with bulky plastic hinges that feel the need to advertise all over their packaging that they are high quality. Somehow I don't believe them.
I am now off to bed, reminded of the glorious fact that I get to sleep in again tomorrow!!
Xx, Little Duck
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