I accidently kicked my acrobatics instructor in the head today. He tried to teach me a new way to get into a handstand, and as he reached for my legs, I slid sideways and right into his temple. I'm not sure how much longer he can keep telling me that I'll get there eventually, when he must have stopped believing it a long time ago. Although I do have a lot of fun in acro, let's be real; no one would be surprised to find that I am not a Russian standard gymnast.
After a quick trip to Officeworks (where I am becoming a regular fixture,) I got home to find another new door (this one a screen,) and a parcel that I never ordered. It isn't often that you get a half price order with free shipping sent to you twice, and are only charged for it once. Hopefully. I'm kind of scared that police are going to kick down my door and arrest me for fraud or something, and I don't like this plan, because I happen to be quite partial to my new doors.
Dinner was tomato soup, which involved cubing a lot of tomatoes, and throughout the cooking process, little groups of these cubes decided to escape the pot, and began turning up everywhere. A few devious cubes even tried to make me slip over. Luckily this didn't happen, but as I blitzed the mixture with my stick-mix, some of the boiling liquid splashed out on my hands, and in a moment of confusion, I wasn't sure whether I was burning or bleeding. It turned out really well though, and so the pain was worth it.
Seeing as I had my new door, I realised that I now had my own door the laundry, and wouldn't have to bother my landlords anymore. I wasn't sure what key would open it though, and so I took all of the ones I had. I struggled to get any of them to fit though, and the one that did wouldn't turn. I really hope no one in the house looked out the kitchen window, because I looked like I was trying to break into their laundry. Just another short setback between me and the day that I can finally separate my whites and colours again.
Just a word of advice; don't try to sing and eat ice-cream at the same time, as it leads to choking and brain freeze, not to mention terrible diction.
Little Duck, out.
Monday, 31 March 2014
Sunday, 30 March 2014
Skies, shopping and sawdust
Whenever I used to visit Sydney from Mackay, I would always underestimate just how cold it was going to be there. Likewise, when I visited Mackay this weekend, I seriously overdressed. As we landed, the pilot announced that the current temperature was 32 degrees, and sitting there in my jeans and jacket, I prepared for the worst. One trait of Mackay weather that I had forgotten about, was the ability to turn you into a giant blob of condensation; whenever you leave an air-conditioned room (which lets be real, is pretty much every room,) any part of you exposed to the air becomes instantly moist and clammy. It wasn't exactly the most enjoyable of welcomes.
After watching the amazing show put on by my Uni friends, we made the very healthy decision to go to McDonalds for dinner, where I ordered the chicken noodle salad. When my order number was called, I was handed the largest paper takeaway bag I have ever seen. Despite having ordered one of the healthiest things possible there, I received a lot of strange and slightly disgusted looks, due to the impression I was giving that I had ordered the entire store.
My fly-by trip ended with a sharp jolt back to reality when I had to the groceries as soon as I landed. Not only was Woolworths fuller than I have ever seen it on a Sunday, but it was full of odd people. As I waited in line for a checkout for what seemed like forever, I saw some people that I hope only do their shopping once a month, due to the amount of things that they were buying. One man had 10 four packs of Red Bull, cartons and cartons of chocolate milk, a suspiciously large amount of laundry powders and a lot of Doritos. A couple in front of me were buying six giant bags of rice, and nothing else. When it was finally my turn, I remembered why I hate going through anything but self serve. I always pack three plastic bags; one of dry goods, one of fruit and veggies, and one of cold things. I bought less than usual today, and left with 9 bags. 9!! There was an average of 3 things per bag. I even tried to make it easy for the lady by categorising my groceries into dry, cold and produce on the conveyor belt, but she took no notice. I'm sorry mum, I know how much you hate self serve, but for the sake of saving the environment, and minimising my OCD, I'll be going back there next time.
I came home to a new door, and sawdust all over everything. While I was away, my landlord had put in a nice new wooden door with glass panels, mowed the lawn, fixed my faulty bathroom lights, and left an empty prescription box in my kitchen. I'm not sure how I was supposed to benefit from the last one, but I appreciated the thought all the same.
Xx, Little Duck
After watching the amazing show put on by my Uni friends, we made the very healthy decision to go to McDonalds for dinner, where I ordered the chicken noodle salad. When my order number was called, I was handed the largest paper takeaway bag I have ever seen. Despite having ordered one of the healthiest things possible there, I received a lot of strange and slightly disgusted looks, due to the impression I was giving that I had ordered the entire store.
My fly-by trip ended with a sharp jolt back to reality when I had to the groceries as soon as I landed. Not only was Woolworths fuller than I have ever seen it on a Sunday, but it was full of odd people. As I waited in line for a checkout for what seemed like forever, I saw some people that I hope only do their shopping once a month, due to the amount of things that they were buying. One man had 10 four packs of Red Bull, cartons and cartons of chocolate milk, a suspiciously large amount of laundry powders and a lot of Doritos. A couple in front of me were buying six giant bags of rice, and nothing else. When it was finally my turn, I remembered why I hate going through anything but self serve. I always pack three plastic bags; one of dry goods, one of fruit and veggies, and one of cold things. I bought less than usual today, and left with 9 bags. 9!! There was an average of 3 things per bag. I even tried to make it easy for the lady by categorising my groceries into dry, cold and produce on the conveyor belt, but she took no notice. I'm sorry mum, I know how much you hate self serve, but for the sake of saving the environment, and minimising my OCD, I'll be going back there next time.
I came home to a new door, and sawdust all over everything. While I was away, my landlord had put in a nice new wooden door with glass panels, mowed the lawn, fixed my faulty bathroom lights, and left an empty prescription box in my kitchen. I'm not sure how I was supposed to benefit from the last one, but I appreciated the thought all the same.
Xx, Little Duck
Friday, 28 March 2014
Taped-tee
So, The Lion King Musical is absolutely incredible. If you ever want to see my cry, just put me in the audience of a musical, and I promise you wont have to wait more than the first note of the overture. I was in the back row of the stalls, and there was a big curtain right behind my chair. There were elephants behind that curtain. I WANT TO BE IN A MUSICAL. This is the reaction that the lion king inspired in me (not that it's a new thought at all.) Seriously, if you get the chance, see the show. Both Mufasa and Nala were understudies when we saw it, and you would never have known. It was incredible.
Today I must have subconsciously decided to bash myself up. I managed without fail to land on my bruises in every routine, and then escalated the violence in fitness class by actually punching myself in the eye. The most impressive part was that I really didn't mean it, but did quite a good job. I then followed this up by smacking my head on the shower rail as I stood up from shaving my legs. Hopefully three is enough, because I'm running out of skin to bruise.
Today we had a class on what to wear to commercial castings, and how to do a dancers catwalk. After my wardrobe malfunction in a class similar to this, I decided to take no chances, and literally taped my shirt to me with double sided clothing tape. That thing was not going anywhere. I was very pleased with myself and my precautions, until I got home and tried to take the shirt off. I may or may not be missing a few patches of skin now.
On my way to the movies tonight I discovered what must be the new version of My Family stickers. The car in front of me at a set of lights had three stickers on its back window; a dad at a barbeque holding a beer bottle, a mum holding up a glass of wine, and a baby with a bottle. I'm not sure which is scarier, the implied lack of parenting skills, or the fact that the baby is getting in on it so early.
Once I got to the movies, I watched the new Kevin Hart movie, which, as expected, caused me to laugh like a retard. It makes me feel so wonderful that other people are weird and super odd, even if it is just in movies.
As I wrote that last sentence, I breathed in a corn kernel from my quesadilla, and so I think I will leave off here so that I an hopefully resume breathing soon.
Xx, Little Duck
Today I must have subconsciously decided to bash myself up. I managed without fail to land on my bruises in every routine, and then escalated the violence in fitness class by actually punching myself in the eye. The most impressive part was that I really didn't mean it, but did quite a good job. I then followed this up by smacking my head on the shower rail as I stood up from shaving my legs. Hopefully three is enough, because I'm running out of skin to bruise.
Today we had a class on what to wear to commercial castings, and how to do a dancers catwalk. After my wardrobe malfunction in a class similar to this, I decided to take no chances, and literally taped my shirt to me with double sided clothing tape. That thing was not going anywhere. I was very pleased with myself and my precautions, until I got home and tried to take the shirt off. I may or may not be missing a few patches of skin now.
On my way to the movies tonight I discovered what must be the new version of My Family stickers. The car in front of me at a set of lights had three stickers on its back window; a dad at a barbeque holding a beer bottle, a mum holding up a glass of wine, and a baby with a bottle. I'm not sure which is scarier, the implied lack of parenting skills, or the fact that the baby is getting in on it so early.
Once I got to the movies, I watched the new Kevin Hart movie, which, as expected, caused me to laugh like a retard. It makes me feel so wonderful that other people are weird and super odd, even if it is just in movies.
As I wrote that last sentence, I breathed in a corn kernel from my quesadilla, and so I think I will leave off here so that I an hopefully resume breathing soon.
Xx, Little Duck
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Food is hard
Today I woke up to another slug in my flat. It was a bit cold outside, but that does not give this little guy the excuse to sit unabashedly in the middle of my living room floor to greet me in the morning. Once I had scolded him with a few twists of salt and thrown him back outside, I thought that was it, but it turned out that he had left me another little present. Just before I left, I went to put my joggers on, and found them covered in lots of thin, shiny tracks. Despite the glittery finish this gave them, I was definitely not grateful, and if my landlords hadn't been having breakfast on the veranda, I probably would have opened the door and yelled at the slug. He won't get away with it though, there will be another line of salt under the door tonight.
After our first couple of classes (fitness and ballet,) I was starving. Unfortunately, I was a little too enthusiastic in my celery and peanut butter consumption, and managed to get a blob of PB tuck to my nose, which I didn't realise for at least 5 minutes. It probably looked like some odd growth, or even worse, a giant booger. To anyone who may have noticed it, and felt too polite to mention it, I just want to let you know that it was PB. I tasted it t make sure. I promise, it was definitely peanut butter.
On the way home, I realised that I had forgotten the key element of my Quesadilla dinner; the tortillas. To rectify this mistake, I decided to stop in at the shopping centre I pass on the way home everyday. I had never been there before, and so finding my way into the car park was a mission in itself, and then as I got out of the car, I found (thanks to my toes) that I had parked in a giant puddle. I must have been a beautiful sight walking into the supermarket with soaked shoes, hair styled by the sweat of the last class, and a serious beetroot face happening. I did get a bit of a weird look from the lady looking after the self serve check outs, but that might have also been due to my purchases of multigrain tortillas and a chocolate doughnut. I quickly justified my choices in my head and legged it back to the escalator, which probably didn't help with the beetroot face at all.
As I cooked dinner I discovered a new trait of the giant mushrooms I had bought; they were shrinking mushrooms. Despite their giant size before cooking, once they had been sautee-ing for a few minutes, they shrunk right down to practically nothing. This left me with a much more of a single element Quesadilla with the corn dominating, although it gave me an excuse to put in lots of cheese, which is never a bad thing.
Little Duck. out
After our first couple of classes (fitness and ballet,) I was starving. Unfortunately, I was a little too enthusiastic in my celery and peanut butter consumption, and managed to get a blob of PB tuck to my nose, which I didn't realise for at least 5 minutes. It probably looked like some odd growth, or even worse, a giant booger. To anyone who may have noticed it, and felt too polite to mention it, I just want to let you know that it was PB. I tasted it t make sure. I promise, it was definitely peanut butter.
On the way home, I realised that I had forgotten the key element of my Quesadilla dinner; the tortillas. To rectify this mistake, I decided to stop in at the shopping centre I pass on the way home everyday. I had never been there before, and so finding my way into the car park was a mission in itself, and then as I got out of the car, I found (thanks to my toes) that I had parked in a giant puddle. I must have been a beautiful sight walking into the supermarket with soaked shoes, hair styled by the sweat of the last class, and a serious beetroot face happening. I did get a bit of a weird look from the lady looking after the self serve check outs, but that might have also been due to my purchases of multigrain tortillas and a chocolate doughnut. I quickly justified my choices in my head and legged it back to the escalator, which probably didn't help with the beetroot face at all.
As I cooked dinner I discovered a new trait of the giant mushrooms I had bought; they were shrinking mushrooms. Despite their giant size before cooking, once they had been sautee-ing for a few minutes, they shrunk right down to practically nothing. This left me with a much more of a single element Quesadilla with the corn dominating, although it gave me an excuse to put in lots of cheese, which is never a bad thing.
Little Duck. out
Monday, 24 March 2014
Excer-sighs
Today started out pretty well. Despite not wanting to get out of bed, I managed to make it to class bright eyed and bushy haired (I may not be a squirrel, but most days I still resemble a 12 year old Hermione Granger,) and dropped a flat left split first up. It was all downhill from there.
Let me just say that it was slow decline, and my inadequacies in Pilates went mostly unnoticed, but once I reached the last class of the day, there was nowhere to hide. Danced to Madonna's "Sexercise," our routine put me well out of my depth. To give you an idea of just how terrible I was at this sassy, trashy and sexy dance, I managed to put my neck out within the first 8 counts. Not even dancing it, just while we were learning it. Nothing sexier than a tilted head and a slight grimace right? Right... I then continually stacked it as we did a bend and snap-esque leg drop, and was let down by my cheesy love of aerobics. We were doing some mock work-out moves that required some leg kicks and rolls on the floor, and while everyone else kept it seductive, my rolls looked a lot more like a retarded dolphin, and with each run, my face got redder and sweatier, which really did nothing to add to my appeal.
Just before we left class, it started bucketing down outside, and in getting to and from the car, I got soaked. Add this to my already sweaty body and bedraggled hair, and I became possibly the least attractive human on the planet at that particular time. It did give me a little extra motivation to run super fast down to my flat though. Once I arrived, I found that I had left a window open in the morning, and there was quite a large puddle waiting for me inside. Ignoring it for a while did nothing to make it go away, and so I eventually got around to mopping it up.
While washing my hair, I managed to burn my baked sweet potato chips, which was not such a lovely smell to come out of the bathroom to, but it ensured that I had nice crunchy chips.
Right now I'm off to nurse my slightly injured aerobic pride and attempt to roll out my neck, which is obviously very anti-seduction. I guess this is lucky, as there is nothing less attractive than me using my foam roller.
Xx, Little Duck
Let me just say that it was slow decline, and my inadequacies in Pilates went mostly unnoticed, but once I reached the last class of the day, there was nowhere to hide. Danced to Madonna's "Sexercise," our routine put me well out of my depth. To give you an idea of just how terrible I was at this sassy, trashy and sexy dance, I managed to put my neck out within the first 8 counts. Not even dancing it, just while we were learning it. Nothing sexier than a tilted head and a slight grimace right? Right... I then continually stacked it as we did a bend and snap-esque leg drop, and was let down by my cheesy love of aerobics. We were doing some mock work-out moves that required some leg kicks and rolls on the floor, and while everyone else kept it seductive, my rolls looked a lot more like a retarded dolphin, and with each run, my face got redder and sweatier, which really did nothing to add to my appeal.
Just before we left class, it started bucketing down outside, and in getting to and from the car, I got soaked. Add this to my already sweaty body and bedraggled hair, and I became possibly the least attractive human on the planet at that particular time. It did give me a little extra motivation to run super fast down to my flat though. Once I arrived, I found that I had left a window open in the morning, and there was quite a large puddle waiting for me inside. Ignoring it for a while did nothing to make it go away, and so I eventually got around to mopping it up.
While washing my hair, I managed to burn my baked sweet potato chips, which was not such a lovely smell to come out of the bathroom to, but it ensured that I had nice crunchy chips.
Right now I'm off to nurse my slightly injured aerobic pride and attempt to roll out my neck, which is obviously very anti-seduction. I guess this is lucky, as there is nothing less attractive than me using my foam roller.
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 23 March 2014
Auditions, Adriano and Awkward
So I have spent my entire weekend attending auditions (as the messy state of my flat would attest to.) Yesterday's was for a short film, and took place at Sydney film school, which is decorated more like an indie café/bookstore than an educational facility, but it's really cool. I was asked to take a seat, and nearly missed the wheelie chair. After my reads, I was told that I brought a very strong awkward quality to the character (which I'm pretty sure I bring to every aspect of my life,) but luckily, they said they thought that it really suited her. It was a good experience, but I was quite glad to leave the hipster room and the evil wheelie chair. I decided to celebrate my survival by going to the happiest place on earth.
Adriano Zumbo's lab. For a sugar-aholic, a masterchef fan and a loving amateur cook, there is no more amazing place. Let me share with you some of the mouthwatering sights I saw there.
The audition itself was quite fun, although after I sang, I jelly legged it back to my seat, tripping over all the other girls feet, and I'm highly surprised I made the chair again. For the call-back we had to learn a short piece of dialogue, and I must have looked mad as I learned my lines in the food court, figuring out my approach and practising staring dreamily into the distance. Despite my less than graceful start, and ridiculously ungraceful stage dismount, I had a great day, and one day, I will be a Disney Princess (that moonlights as a pastry chef at Adriano Zumbo's store.)
Now I'm off to clean my very messy flat. Yay
Xx, Little Duck
Adriano Zumbo's lab. For a sugar-aholic, a masterchef fan and a loving amateur cook, there is no more amazing place. Let me share with you some of the mouthwatering sights I saw there.
Once greeted by this sign, I am not ashamed to say I started fan girling, and squealing internally. (I actually can't promise that it was internal, so sorry to the random strangers on the street that my have thought I was insane.)
As this was my first visit, of course I went all out on the Macarons, and the natural first choice of dessert was this giant cheesecake and berry compote filled macaron with marshmallow on top.
Next up was this amazing (and normal sized) Berry Brulee macaron. The girls next to me were probably a little confused at why I literally did a double take and stared lovingly at this baked item after my first bite, but eat one, and you will understand.
This is a chalk drawing on a wall. It's exciting because it says Zumbo.
This was my impulse purchase as I left the store, and the guy behind the counter was like, "you're back!" with this all knowing look on his face, and I didn't even feel guilty. This is called a Chocaron; a day old macaron, dipped in chocolate, with an added (edible) smiley face for effect. It was a salted caramel macaron, and it was my favourite of the day.
Seriously, if you ever want to be happy, visit this place. Don't worry about the cavities, or getting fat, just do it. (They also make truffles and ice cream, and savoury pies.) JUST DO IT!!!
On my way to a friends house, I passed through Newtown, and saw a business with a transparent sign. This sign was also filled with water and rubber ducks, and now I feel like driving the streets of Newtown just to find it again. No matter what type of business it is, I think the ducks could entice me to go in. I'm that single minded about birds of the Anas Platyrhynchos variety.
Today I had another audition for the upcoming Snow white pantomime, starring Magda Szubanski as the wicked queen. It was an open call designed for publicity, as it took place in the middle of the Westfield shopping centre. Sign up started at 9am, and my morning didn't start off well. I drenched my CV while trying to hastily down a Berrocca, and then as I got to the car, I realised I had left my headshot downstairs, and literally hopped around as I threw my heels off onto the front lawn and sprinted back down. If the auditions were for the worlds least graceful princess, I would have nailed it. After a sprint to Officeworks (where I stood outside the front door looking stressed and forlorn) the staff took pity on me and let me in 5 minutes early, I printed my CV and rushed back to the shopping centre.The audition itself was quite fun, although after I sang, I jelly legged it back to my seat, tripping over all the other girls feet, and I'm highly surprised I made the chair again. For the call-back we had to learn a short piece of dialogue, and I must have looked mad as I learned my lines in the food court, figuring out my approach and practising staring dreamily into the distance. Despite my less than graceful start, and ridiculously ungraceful stage dismount, I had a great day, and one day, I will be a Disney Princess (that moonlights as a pastry chef at Adriano Zumbo's store.)
Now I'm off to clean my very messy flat. Yay
Xx, Little Duck
Friday, 21 March 2014
Awkward typos
I apologise for missing one or two days, but I ask you in all fairness, what happens if I have a normal day for once? What am I supposed to tell you then?
I am not saying that either of the days I have missed were normal in any way actually, I have just been extremely tired, and so have not written anything because I cant write in my sleep, unfortunately. (Although being able to do things in my sleep would be a wonderful skill.)
Wednesday night I went for some crazy adventures in Bondi, where a guy picked up a traffic cone and yelled, "Hayley, I love you!!" through it, someone made my newly cleaned white converse dirty all over again, and a crazy chain of events led to 1 hours sleep.
This lack of sleep happened to coincide with the day that I find most difficult in the week anyway; Thursday. I managed to get through all my classes, fuelled by some hyperactive (and slightly hysterical) energy, paying full attention and having a lot of fun, but things that I had done that morning before class (such as boiling an egg for my lunch) did not go so well. As I sat down to enjoy this egg at recess, I found that my lack of attention had left it a little more soft boiled than I would have liked, and I managed to squirt myself all over with the yolk.
Due to the fitness testing and intensity of routines we have been doing recently, my butt has decided to hate me, and cramps when I do almost anything. (I just thought would tell you that as I wrote this sentence, I mis-typed, and wrote craps by mistake. Luckily, that is not what my butt is doing.) This cramping leads to strange strangled noises, and a hobbling limp that would be better suited to a pirate in Peter Pan than someone who is trying to dance gracefully at the time.
This afternoon we had an amazing master class with one of the male swings in the new production of Wicked, and were lucky enough to learn a sequence from Dancing Through Life. Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE Wicked, and to make it even better, most of the choreography in the show is full of awkward/odd angles and off balance moves. This is great because my body naturally does awkward things, and when I try to be on balance, I end up off balance anyway. This doesn't mean that I did well, but I had so much fun. I will be in that show one day.
Considering that I have probably sweated out a small ocean today, I'm off to bed, and I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. It's a miracle!!
Xx, Little Duck
I am not saying that either of the days I have missed were normal in any way actually, I have just been extremely tired, and so have not written anything because I cant write in my sleep, unfortunately. (Although being able to do things in my sleep would be a wonderful skill.)
Wednesday night I went for some crazy adventures in Bondi, where a guy picked up a traffic cone and yelled, "Hayley, I love you!!" through it, someone made my newly cleaned white converse dirty all over again, and a crazy chain of events led to 1 hours sleep.
This lack of sleep happened to coincide with the day that I find most difficult in the week anyway; Thursday. I managed to get through all my classes, fuelled by some hyperactive (and slightly hysterical) energy, paying full attention and having a lot of fun, but things that I had done that morning before class (such as boiling an egg for my lunch) did not go so well. As I sat down to enjoy this egg at recess, I found that my lack of attention had left it a little more soft boiled than I would have liked, and I managed to squirt myself all over with the yolk.
Due to the fitness testing and intensity of routines we have been doing recently, my butt has decided to hate me, and cramps when I do almost anything. (I just thought would tell you that as I wrote this sentence, I mis-typed, and wrote craps by mistake. Luckily, that is not what my butt is doing.) This cramping leads to strange strangled noises, and a hobbling limp that would be better suited to a pirate in Peter Pan than someone who is trying to dance gracefully at the time.
This afternoon we had an amazing master class with one of the male swings in the new production of Wicked, and were lucky enough to learn a sequence from Dancing Through Life. Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE Wicked, and to make it even better, most of the choreography in the show is full of awkward/odd angles and off balance moves. This is great because my body naturally does awkward things, and when I try to be on balance, I end up off balance anyway. This doesn't mean that I did well, but I had so much fun. I will be in that show one day.
Considering that I have probably sweated out a small ocean today, I'm off to bed, and I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. It's a miracle!!
Xx, Little Duck
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
Chilli and chilled beverages
Last night I was lucky enough to head in to the city, and watch an amazing night of dancing (featuring some of our teachers and classmates) at the oxford art factory.
I was really tired before I left, and the show was scheduled to go until late, and so I decided to put dinner on and then have a quick power nap. I was making chilli con carne, and so I left it to simmer as I slept, and when I woke up, it smelt really good. I hadn't checked just how hot it was before I left it to simmer, and due to my brain still being asleep, I thought it would be a good idea to take a huge spoonful and eat it straight from the pan. I was lucky that chilli was what I was going for, because that is definitely what I got. After running around flapping my hands and breathing heavily, and then crying a little as I drank some milk from the carton, I got myself back on track, ate the rest of my chilli (paired with the proper mild accompaniments) and was ready to head out.
I made it to central station without any of the usual amusing commuters catching my attention, but as I changed trains, a man from the carriage next to mine was escorted onto the platform by two police officers, and wrapped in a hypothermic blanket. Naturally I was curious, but suddenly very glad that I hadn't been there to observe whatever experience he had just had.
On the second train, a lady sitting across from me was listening to her iPod, but I don't think her headphones were plugged in properly, because her weird meditation/sitar music was really loud. Don't get me wrong, she can listen to whatever she likes, but I think that other commuters would appreciate her investing in a functional pair of headphones.
The actual performance was wonderful, and I made no more of a fool of myself than usual in public dancing situations, but I almost crashed into the amazing Matt Lee (of Happy Feet tapping fame) and in my confusion ran down the wrong set of stairs and into a corporate function, making a hasty U-turn to re-join my (laughing) friends at the correct exit.
Today I managed to survive an encounter with my arch nemesis: running. I participated in the beep test (which I last took at age 15) and didn't suck quite as much as I thought I would, and beat my push up PB by 15 (which sounds a lot better than the score actually was!)
All in all, I am happy to be alive and not wrapped in a hypothermic blanket.
As a parting question, has anyone else seen the new Pepsi next taste challenge ad? Just a tip Pepsi, when putting customer feedback into your ad comparing sugar-free Pepsi to regular coke, don't take the risk in thinking that people won't notice this guy. Because they will.
I was really tired before I left, and the show was scheduled to go until late, and so I decided to put dinner on and then have a quick power nap. I was making chilli con carne, and so I left it to simmer as I slept, and when I woke up, it smelt really good. I hadn't checked just how hot it was before I left it to simmer, and due to my brain still being asleep, I thought it would be a good idea to take a huge spoonful and eat it straight from the pan. I was lucky that chilli was what I was going for, because that is definitely what I got. After running around flapping my hands and breathing heavily, and then crying a little as I drank some milk from the carton, I got myself back on track, ate the rest of my chilli (paired with the proper mild accompaniments) and was ready to head out.
I made it to central station without any of the usual amusing commuters catching my attention, but as I changed trains, a man from the carriage next to mine was escorted onto the platform by two police officers, and wrapped in a hypothermic blanket. Naturally I was curious, but suddenly very glad that I hadn't been there to observe whatever experience he had just had.
On the second train, a lady sitting across from me was listening to her iPod, but I don't think her headphones were plugged in properly, because her weird meditation/sitar music was really loud. Don't get me wrong, she can listen to whatever she likes, but I think that other commuters would appreciate her investing in a functional pair of headphones.
The actual performance was wonderful, and I made no more of a fool of myself than usual in public dancing situations, but I almost crashed into the amazing Matt Lee (of Happy Feet tapping fame) and in my confusion ran down the wrong set of stairs and into a corporate function, making a hasty U-turn to re-join my (laughing) friends at the correct exit.
Today I managed to survive an encounter with my arch nemesis: running. I participated in the beep test (which I last took at age 15) and didn't suck quite as much as I thought I would, and beat my push up PB by 15 (which sounds a lot better than the score actually was!)
All in all, I am happy to be alive and not wrapped in a hypothermic blanket.
As a parting question, has anyone else seen the new Pepsi next taste challenge ad? Just a tip Pepsi, when putting customer feedback into your ad comparing sugar-free Pepsi to regular coke, don't take the risk in thinking that people won't notice this guy. Because they will.
Was her testimony good enough to weigh out the thousand words his face was screaming at us? I think not.
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 16 March 2014
Warning: stupid
Since I have such a fascinating social life on the weekends, and I had completely cleaned my flat yesterday, I decided to do my grocery shopping today instead of tomorrow. No need to tell me, I already know that I'm the worlds biggest rebel.
The shopping itself wasn't that exciting, but once I got home, I realised that the new deodorant I had bought was actually mens. Now, while I am partially to blame for not reading all of the small print, I blame the shelf stockers for putting it in the middle of the women's section. I decided that I should read the rest of the small print in case there was something else important I had missed, but discovered only that I need to consult a Dr before using the product if I have kidney problems. This is slightly scary, as deodorant doesn't (or shouldn't) go anywhere near your kidneys.
This got me thinking of other stupid things I had seen on labels, and led me to an afternoon of googling stupid labels. Please enjoy the fruits of my probably wasted afternoon.
The shopping itself wasn't that exciting, but once I got home, I realised that the new deodorant I had bought was actually mens. Now, while I am partially to blame for not reading all of the small print, I blame the shelf stockers for putting it in the middle of the women's section. I decided that I should read the rest of the small print in case there was something else important I had missed, but discovered only that I need to consult a Dr before using the product if I have kidney problems. This is slightly scary, as deodorant doesn't (or shouldn't) go anywhere near your kidneys.
This got me thinking of other stupid things I had seen on labels, and led me to an afternoon of googling stupid labels. Please enjoy the fruits of my probably wasted afternoon.
This one is particularly relevant to my sister, but for anyone who's latest head accessory purchase isn't feeling quite right, this may be why.
I am extremely glad that I haven't found this label on any of my clothing yet, as it would dash all my dreams.
You'll have to read this one carefully, but once you see it, you will start to question the intelligence of humanity. (Just a hint; it's not the terrible grammar.)
Who knew that a scooter moved when operated? Goodness, we've all been so blind.
I know that sometimes it is difficult to find a pen when you need one, but apparently, even if it's the only one you can find, you shouldn't use this one. Who knows why?
I thought I would end with two of the most amusing clothing labels I came across; one is funny just for its sheer oddness, and the other is just as offensive to me as funny.
(This one is apparently not about the president everyone would assume, but the current one.)
And on that ridiculous note, I will leave you feeling as though you have wasted almost as much time as me today.
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 15 March 2014
When it rains it pours
So last night I went out in Sydney for the very first time. As usual, I was sober, and so I had a very interesting night. The plan was to meet up at a friends house and then go out from there, but my adventures started before I had even arrived.
On the train on the way there, I was sitting across the aisle from a couple of guys who were bragging to each other about their schoolies stories. One of them got very excited when we passed through McDonaldtown, as he had never realised that it was an actual place, and his last name was McDonald, and he then got into an argument with a grandma behind him over whether he was Scottish or not. I deliberately made no eye contact and didn't react to anything they said, just in case I was the next victim of their stupidity. I was sitting right in front of the stairs, and as they got off at their stop, Mr McDonald turned around, looked right at me and sang; "goodbye my lover..." and then was gone.
I thought that this filled my odd quota for the day, and so I wasn't too worried about the rest of the night. As I waited at a set of traffic lights to cross the road, I was practising the showgirl bevel we had learned in class that day. Just before the lights changed, a guy in a white van drove past, leant out the window and yelled "dang!" I quickly stumbled out of my bevel and ran to the safety of my friends house. I wasn't aware that people actually used the word "dang" in seriousness, and I'm curious as to whether it usually works for white van guy.
Once we had all congregated and hopped on the train for the city, we were soon joined in our carriage by a group of punk/goths dressed in full black, torn garments, and dyed, teased hair. (I'm convinced that the amount of volume in one of the guys hair meant that it must be a wig.) To complete their image, they were talking in screamo voices that must have taken cups and cups of swallowed gravel to achieve.
The group I was sitting with was quite loud, and I became aware that the punks weren't too happy about it, one of them getting quite vocal about it. I tried to quieten everyone down, but as I was the only non-alcohol fuelled person, my efforts were futile, and I was extremely happy when we got off. The punks were too, judging by the faces and rude gestures they made against the window as the train pulled out.
The rest of the night was quite typical, with the usual drunks spilling drinks all over me, a couple making out all over the dance floor and literally knocking people to the ground in the process, and a few near panic attacks at the amount of unavoidable gross, sweaty touching. Although it was a fun night, I've definitely filled my going out quota for a while.
After making a couple of trips to get everyone home, I got to bed at 3am, and spent my day sleeping in, cleaning, sleeping some more, and then being woken by some giant thunder. It's been an interesting one.
Little Duck, out.
On the train on the way there, I was sitting across the aisle from a couple of guys who were bragging to each other about their schoolies stories. One of them got very excited when we passed through McDonaldtown, as he had never realised that it was an actual place, and his last name was McDonald, and he then got into an argument with a grandma behind him over whether he was Scottish or not. I deliberately made no eye contact and didn't react to anything they said, just in case I was the next victim of their stupidity. I was sitting right in front of the stairs, and as they got off at their stop, Mr McDonald turned around, looked right at me and sang; "goodbye my lover..." and then was gone.
I thought that this filled my odd quota for the day, and so I wasn't too worried about the rest of the night. As I waited at a set of traffic lights to cross the road, I was practising the showgirl bevel we had learned in class that day. Just before the lights changed, a guy in a white van drove past, leant out the window and yelled "dang!" I quickly stumbled out of my bevel and ran to the safety of my friends house. I wasn't aware that people actually used the word "dang" in seriousness, and I'm curious as to whether it usually works for white van guy.
Once we had all congregated and hopped on the train for the city, we were soon joined in our carriage by a group of punk/goths dressed in full black, torn garments, and dyed, teased hair. (I'm convinced that the amount of volume in one of the guys hair meant that it must be a wig.) To complete their image, they were talking in screamo voices that must have taken cups and cups of swallowed gravel to achieve.
The group I was sitting with was quite loud, and I became aware that the punks weren't too happy about it, one of them getting quite vocal about it. I tried to quieten everyone down, but as I was the only non-alcohol fuelled person, my efforts were futile, and I was extremely happy when we got off. The punks were too, judging by the faces and rude gestures they made against the window as the train pulled out.
The rest of the night was quite typical, with the usual drunks spilling drinks all over me, a couple making out all over the dance floor and literally knocking people to the ground in the process, and a few near panic attacks at the amount of unavoidable gross, sweaty touching. Although it was a fun night, I've definitely filled my going out quota for a while.
After making a couple of trips to get everyone home, I got to bed at 3am, and spent my day sleeping in, cleaning, sleeping some more, and then being woken by some giant thunder. It's been an interesting one.
Little Duck, out.
Thursday, 13 March 2014
Animal Thursday
Today I witnessed another inspiring workout from the early morning runner today. Instead of lifting her arms up around her head as she jogged, she was walking briskly (with a partner this time,) and swinging her arms straight in front of her and up above her head one by one, making her look like a kindergarten teacher impersonating a crocodile. Again, this lady never fails to make my morning.
As I drove around the corner just up from my house, a Bulldozer crashed through the fence of the house on the left. It gave me a bit of heart attack, made me think I was hallucinating, and then I began to wonder what kind of maniacs lived there. After a while, I remembered that this house was empty and set for major renovations/demolition, beginning I suppose with the back fence. If I ever need to wake up a little more before class, I'll have to remember this technique.
In our class, we have what we call "animal Thursday," and so it was very fitting that the animal theme that began with the crocodile lady this morning, continued as I made my way down the highway. A Vet that I pass every morning had put up a new sign, playing on that oh so popular car trip game; (that has earned me many a bruise over the years) spotto. And what animal did they choose to embody this game? That's right; a Dalmatian. I'm not exactly sure of what the sign was supposed to achieve, but I am seriously enjoying this recent trend of Vets and their pun based advertisements.
On the way to class, the left hand lane of traffic was moving very slowly, and as it came my turn to pass the obstructing vehicle, I discovered a tiny 1920s one seater car with it's driver fully dressed in a suit and bow tie. Due to the animal theme of the morning, I had trouble seeing him as anything but a penguin. I really want to know where he was going dressed like that at 8 in the morning, but I guess it doesn't matter; I'm just really glad that he was on the road, as it made me smile. A lot.
As much as I enjoyed observing the animals today, I didn't so much enjoy feeling like one as I sweated my way through the days classes, especially when we had to roll all over each other to finish a dance. I do not enjoy physical contact, and so this was a very interesting and character building experience for me, but I really hope that I don't have to repeat it any time soon.
Xx, Little Duck
As I drove around the corner just up from my house, a Bulldozer crashed through the fence of the house on the left. It gave me a bit of heart attack, made me think I was hallucinating, and then I began to wonder what kind of maniacs lived there. After a while, I remembered that this house was empty and set for major renovations/demolition, beginning I suppose with the back fence. If I ever need to wake up a little more before class, I'll have to remember this technique.
In our class, we have what we call "animal Thursday," and so it was very fitting that the animal theme that began with the crocodile lady this morning, continued as I made my way down the highway. A Vet that I pass every morning had put up a new sign, playing on that oh so popular car trip game; (that has earned me many a bruise over the years) spotto. And what animal did they choose to embody this game? That's right; a Dalmatian. I'm not exactly sure of what the sign was supposed to achieve, but I am seriously enjoying this recent trend of Vets and their pun based advertisements.
On the way to class, the left hand lane of traffic was moving very slowly, and as it came my turn to pass the obstructing vehicle, I discovered a tiny 1920s one seater car with it's driver fully dressed in a suit and bow tie. Due to the animal theme of the morning, I had trouble seeing him as anything but a penguin. I really want to know where he was going dressed like that at 8 in the morning, but I guess it doesn't matter; I'm just really glad that he was on the road, as it made me smile. A lot.
As much as I enjoyed observing the animals today, I didn't so much enjoy feeling like one as I sweated my way through the days classes, especially when we had to roll all over each other to finish a dance. I do not enjoy physical contact, and so this was a very interesting and character building experience for me, but I really hope that I don't have to repeat it any time soon.
Xx, Little Duck
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
Wierd-mill
I am a walking bruise. Our current project in breakdance tricking is learning to do the windmill. While I do have a ridiculous amount of fun kicking and rolling around on my back in considerable pain, I can't shake the feeling that I look like a complete retard. The fact that my attempt looks nothing like our instructors just seems to reinforce that. Sometimes I feel like I go to this particular class to obtain a ridiculous amount of bruises, and give myself the choice to either wear them as battle scars, or use them as whinging grounds for the rest of the week. One day I will learn to nail just one move, and pretend to be a serious B girl, but until then, I will stick with my ridiculously short and unstable back spins.
Due to my bruises and some sore muscles, I grabbed my roller out when I got home and had a quick session. The whole time I was doing this, my landlords dog was sitting in my doorway, his favourite spot when his owners are out. Numerous times as I rolled, I would glance up and see him staring at me through his fringe, obviously thinking that I was mad, but as soon as he realised that I was looking at him, he would glance away as though he had never been watching. I'm really glad that he can't talk, as he's probably seen me do quite a few odd things while he sits in that doorway.
After I realised that my landlords weren't home, I occupied their backyard to practise my handstands. I located a patch that was relatively free of Prince (the dog's) poo, and then thoroughly absorbed myself in my personal version of a handstand, and when I actually managed to hold one, I gave a surprised squeal and fell to the ground. I continued to practise for at least another 10 minutes, much to the amusement of my neighbours, who were watching from their veranda, a fact that I did not realise until I was going back inside. Mr Emphysema was talking on his phone, blatantly staring a chuckling. In my mind I gave him a cool salute and strutted back into my apartment, but in real life, this became a deer in the headlights acknowledgement and an awkward leggy retreat. All I can say is that I really hope I improve.
Little Duck, out.
Due to my bruises and some sore muscles, I grabbed my roller out when I got home and had a quick session. The whole time I was doing this, my landlords dog was sitting in my doorway, his favourite spot when his owners are out. Numerous times as I rolled, I would glance up and see him staring at me through his fringe, obviously thinking that I was mad, but as soon as he realised that I was looking at him, he would glance away as though he had never been watching. I'm really glad that he can't talk, as he's probably seen me do quite a few odd things while he sits in that doorway.
After I realised that my landlords weren't home, I occupied their backyard to practise my handstands. I located a patch that was relatively free of Prince (the dog's) poo, and then thoroughly absorbed myself in my personal version of a handstand, and when I actually managed to hold one, I gave a surprised squeal and fell to the ground. I continued to practise for at least another 10 minutes, much to the amusement of my neighbours, who were watching from their veranda, a fact that I did not realise until I was going back inside. Mr Emphysema was talking on his phone, blatantly staring a chuckling. In my mind I gave him a cool salute and strutted back into my apartment, but in real life, this became a deer in the headlights acknowledgement and an awkward leggy retreat. All I can say is that I really hope I improve.
Little Duck, out.
Tuesday, 11 March 2014
Soles and schooners
My tap shoes are in one piece again! Thankfully, the shoe man didn't completely screw them up, and he promises that I'll get at least another year out of them. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see a pair of shoes. I'd have to say that I'm also extremely relieved that I remembered to pick them up, as don't think my tap teacher would have appreciated me rocking up in socks tomorrow, although I might have been able to fake a few more steps.
I dropped into a bar this afternoon to hand in my resume and have a chat to the manager, and on the way out, an older workman winked at me and said; "you look a bit young love." I just smiled and kept walking, and he called after me "lets get you a beer and fix that." I was really glad that I had made friends with Eugene behind the bar, who distracted him while I made a hasty exit.
On my afternoon travels, I made a number of interesting observations. One of them I really couldn't miss. As I was stopped at a set of traffic lights, a man on the other side of the street was having a rather heated conversation with a tree. To begin with, I wasn't sure he was talking to the tree, and gave him every chance I could to believe he was sane, but after scanning the parked and stopped cars, and the sidewalks, and then watching his erratic gestures, I had to come to the conclusion that the tree had done something horrible to offend him.
When I got to the shopping centre, I was greeted by a sign in front of a massage chair stall that said "an aching sensation that feels so good." I'm not sure that I would recommend their advertising agent, because if I owned massage chairs, I probably wouldn't mention that it hurts before the customer sits down.
My last discovery for the day, was coles' new ad. If you haven't seen it, the new slogan is a continuation of their 'prices are down' campaign, boasting that their already low prices are still going down by singing "down down, deeper and down." This would usually be fine, but it's accompanied by some guys wearing red foam hands and making awkward down gestures in front of their crutches. If I didn't know better, I would have said that the entire campaign was Miley Cyrus inspired, and I find myself highly disturbed.
Xx, Little Duck
I dropped into a bar this afternoon to hand in my resume and have a chat to the manager, and on the way out, an older workman winked at me and said; "you look a bit young love." I just smiled and kept walking, and he called after me "lets get you a beer and fix that." I was really glad that I had made friends with Eugene behind the bar, who distracted him while I made a hasty exit.
On my afternoon travels, I made a number of interesting observations. One of them I really couldn't miss. As I was stopped at a set of traffic lights, a man on the other side of the street was having a rather heated conversation with a tree. To begin with, I wasn't sure he was talking to the tree, and gave him every chance I could to believe he was sane, but after scanning the parked and stopped cars, and the sidewalks, and then watching his erratic gestures, I had to come to the conclusion that the tree had done something horrible to offend him.
When I got to the shopping centre, I was greeted by a sign in front of a massage chair stall that said "an aching sensation that feels so good." I'm not sure that I would recommend their advertising agent, because if I owned massage chairs, I probably wouldn't mention that it hurts before the customer sits down.
My last discovery for the day, was coles' new ad. If you haven't seen it, the new slogan is a continuation of their 'prices are down' campaign, boasting that their already low prices are still going down by singing "down down, deeper and down." This would usually be fine, but it's accompanied by some guys wearing red foam hands and making awkward down gestures in front of their crutches. If I didn't know better, I would have said that the entire campaign was Miley Cyrus inspired, and I find myself highly disturbed.
Xx, Little Duck
Monday, 10 March 2014
Breaking and entering
So today has perhaps been the stupidest day of my existence. And when I say stupid, I don't mean my usual slightly clumsy, or socially awkward stupid, I mean the full blown, what the hell are you even doing with your life kind of stupid. To cut to the chase, I locked myself out of my apartment. I left to drive somewhere, and to drive somewhere I need keys right? Generally yes, but apparently, I thought my table needed them more. Luckily, my landlords have the spare key. Unluckily, they were both out. Because I really didn't want to bother them, I decided to try to fix the problem myself, running through the list of tricks I learnt as a kid. I immediately checked the screens covering my windows, but unlike in the country, first storey windows in the city have well secured screens to prevent people from doing exactly I was trying to do. My next point of call was finding a peg, as I have become quite a lock picking pro when it comes to this particular laundry aid. The issue with this idea, was that all my pegs, although perfect for the job, were locked in the flat I was trying to gain entrance to. My landlords pegs were entirely the wrong kind, and I was starting to run out of ideas.
I had been locked out with my bag, and so decided to try the old bobby pin trick, despite having never having done it before. My handbag proved less useful than I had hoped, as for a girl, I have a woeful lack of bobby pins anywhere. I resorted to rummaging through my car (which I had ironically forgotten to lock,) and found one in my glove box. It ended up being completely useless though, as it turns out I suck at picking locks with bobby pins.
Finally having run out of ideas and strange implements to shove into my lock (although I did consider a coat hanger and an earing,) I called my landlords and said please don't rush, I'll just wait until you get home. Two hours later I was rescued from sitting in the garden by one of them tossing the spare key down off their veranda.
It's safe to say that I went through a full cycle of emotions in that garden, which began with laughing at myself. I thought that this was a good sign, but it was quickly followed by tears, then frustration(which saw me rolling angrily in the grass in my skirt, and was probably not very graceful sight,) ad then alternating measures of boredom and ironic humour again.
Lets just say I'm really glad to be back inside.
The only other real event of my day was my first accomplished handstand. It probably only lasted 8-10 seconds, but to me it felt like an eternity, and as though I should have been presented with some kind of award. This however was followed by a not so wonderful attempt in which I curled into a ball a little to late, smacked down on my back and winded myself. Our russian instructor didn't see this one (thankfully,) but turned around right after I had got up, to find me feigning complete composure, despite panting heavily. Now he just thinks I'm really unfit.
Xx, Little Duck
I had been locked out with my bag, and so decided to try the old bobby pin trick, despite having never having done it before. My handbag proved less useful than I had hoped, as for a girl, I have a woeful lack of bobby pins anywhere. I resorted to rummaging through my car (which I had ironically forgotten to lock,) and found one in my glove box. It ended up being completely useless though, as it turns out I suck at picking locks with bobby pins.
Finally having run out of ideas and strange implements to shove into my lock (although I did consider a coat hanger and an earing,) I called my landlords and said please don't rush, I'll just wait until you get home. Two hours later I was rescued from sitting in the garden by one of them tossing the spare key down off their veranda.
It's safe to say that I went through a full cycle of emotions in that garden, which began with laughing at myself. I thought that this was a good sign, but it was quickly followed by tears, then frustration(which saw me rolling angrily in the grass in my skirt, and was probably not very graceful sight,) ad then alternating measures of boredom and ironic humour again.
Lets just say I'm really glad to be back inside.
The only other real event of my day was my first accomplished handstand. It probably only lasted 8-10 seconds, but to me it felt like an eternity, and as though I should have been presented with some kind of award. This however was followed by a not so wonderful attempt in which I curled into a ball a little to late, smacked down on my back and winded myself. Our russian instructor didn't see this one (thankfully,) but turned around right after I had got up, to find me feigning complete composure, despite panting heavily. Now he just thinks I'm really unfit.
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 8 March 2014
Waterlogged
Today I went on another resume handing out mission. It wasn't so bad, and everyone was super friendly, and I even found time to get my hair cut in between. I just hope that one of them will offer me a job! I'm not sure that it will be the last place I applied, as it was pretty windy at the time, and as I shut the door behind me, a huge gust picked up my newly light and bouncy hair, and threw it forward over my face. At this exact moment, the guy behind the bar said "can I help you love?" I was just standing there, staring at him from under my hair, looking like cousin it, or even the girl from the ring. I quickly tried to smooth myself out, smiled and went on as if nothing had happened. Classy.
At my hairdressers recommendation, I put a treatment in my hair when I got home. The instructions said to let it sit in my hair for 3-5 minutes, and then to rinse out in mid to cool water. For some reason I decided to rinse it out in my bathroom sink, which turned out to be a lot smaller than anticipated. After smacking my head on the tap multiple times, I decided that I might have more luck in the shower, but of course, got in and left all my clothes on, because I wasn't actually having a shower. I ended up sopping wet, staggering around with wet hair in my eyes, and I'm pretty sure the treatment still wasn't washed out properly. I'm not sure that this attempt at beauty was painful for anything but my pride.
Since drying myself off, I have cleaned my flat from top to bottom, written everything I can possibly plan into my diary, made my grocery list and started dinner, and have realised that I have nothing else to do. I guess I'll have to resort to my usual one sided banter with the TV, chastising its broadcast of songs with stupid lyrics, and the inaccuracies of particular scenes.
Sorry, I lied about not having anything to do, I forgot to tell you about the super exciting date I have planned with my pyjamas and TV later. It will probably even end in a jar of peanut butter. Bet you wish you were me.
Little Duck, out.
At my hairdressers recommendation, I put a treatment in my hair when I got home. The instructions said to let it sit in my hair for 3-5 minutes, and then to rinse out in mid to cool water. For some reason I decided to rinse it out in my bathroom sink, which turned out to be a lot smaller than anticipated. After smacking my head on the tap multiple times, I decided that I might have more luck in the shower, but of course, got in and left all my clothes on, because I wasn't actually having a shower. I ended up sopping wet, staggering around with wet hair in my eyes, and I'm pretty sure the treatment still wasn't washed out properly. I'm not sure that this attempt at beauty was painful for anything but my pride.
Since drying myself off, I have cleaned my flat from top to bottom, written everything I can possibly plan into my diary, made my grocery list and started dinner, and have realised that I have nothing else to do. I guess I'll have to resort to my usual one sided banter with the TV, chastising its broadcast of songs with stupid lyrics, and the inaccuracies of particular scenes.
Sorry, I lied about not having anything to do, I forgot to tell you about the super exciting date I have planned with my pyjamas and TV later. It will probably even end in a jar of peanut butter. Bet you wish you were me.
Little Duck, out.
Friday, 7 March 2014
Cheeseburgers and children
So today I was called a skank by the choreographer of Australia's biggest nightclub. Apparently he meant it as a compliment though, so I'll just add that to my pile of odd and slightly backhanded compliments. This was after (and luckily had nothing to do with) completely losing my top during the routine we were doing. Never believe the brief when it says you wont be full on dancing. It lies. And then you lose your clothes.
Before this wardrobe malfunction, I had some normal classes, including hip hop, in which I'm supposed to be a gangster. I think my teacher has come to expect a little less sass from me, after numerous comments from me such as " I feel like an octopus." I'm glad he doesn't get offended when I saw things like this, as he seems to appreciate that they just pop out of my mouth, and we bonded today when he told me to "say it with your chest!" Any Kevin Hart fans out there will understand this, and I was just waiting for him to call me "little nigga" to finish it off, but we drew the line, considering we're both way too white for that. We were doing dance hall style today, which involves a style of booty shaking similar to that of twerking, but it's not quite the same. Lets just say that rather than a sharp and sexy, controlled booty pop, I ended up looking like I had a severe case of knock knees.
Today is cheeseburger Friday, which just means that I go to McDonalds with some friends after class and get a cheeseburger. Pretty self explanatory actually. Now I hate kids. With a passion. I actually met a nice one today though. He passed me taking his tray to the bin (which automatically earns him brownie points, as I cant stand people who leave their rubbish on the tables,) but all his rubbish fell on the floor at my feet. He apologised to me, and ran off to put the tray down so that he could pick the rubbish up. I picked it up for him and we put it in the bin together, and then he thanked me, smiled and yelled "bye!" A polite, rubbish aware child that didn't look like a complete ming-rat. It was a miracle. I guess he was school age, so if I ever for some reason decide that I do want kids, I'll just find a way to get a school age one, and keep the receipt in case it doesn't put its rubbish in the bin.
Xx, Little Duck
Before this wardrobe malfunction, I had some normal classes, including hip hop, in which I'm supposed to be a gangster. I think my teacher has come to expect a little less sass from me, after numerous comments from me such as " I feel like an octopus." I'm glad he doesn't get offended when I saw things like this, as he seems to appreciate that they just pop out of my mouth, and we bonded today when he told me to "say it with your chest!" Any Kevin Hart fans out there will understand this, and I was just waiting for him to call me "little nigga" to finish it off, but we drew the line, considering we're both way too white for that. We were doing dance hall style today, which involves a style of booty shaking similar to that of twerking, but it's not quite the same. Lets just say that rather than a sharp and sexy, controlled booty pop, I ended up looking like I had a severe case of knock knees.
Today is cheeseburger Friday, which just means that I go to McDonalds with some friends after class and get a cheeseburger. Pretty self explanatory actually. Now I hate kids. With a passion. I actually met a nice one today though. He passed me taking his tray to the bin (which automatically earns him brownie points, as I cant stand people who leave their rubbish on the tables,) but all his rubbish fell on the floor at my feet. He apologised to me, and ran off to put the tray down so that he could pick the rubbish up. I picked it up for him and we put it in the bin together, and then he thanked me, smiled and yelled "bye!" A polite, rubbish aware child that didn't look like a complete ming-rat. It was a miracle. I guess he was school age, so if I ever for some reason decide that I do want kids, I'll just find a way to get a school age one, and keep the receipt in case it doesn't put its rubbish in the bin.
Xx, Little Duck
Wednesday, 5 March 2014
Sole wrenching
My tap shoes are falling apart. It's really sad, because I love them so much. I bought them second hand, and not only so they fit perfectly, but the taps on the bottom have never needed tightening or loosening; they are perfect for me, and so when I discovered that the soles were starting to peel off, I decided to try get them fixed before I considered buying a new pair. I found a shoe repair shop at my nearest Westfield (where I no longer get lost in the car park,) and explained my dilemma. The man behind the counter told me that he could do a patch up job, or fix them more permanently by taking the soles off completely and re-gluing them. He then asked me which option I would prefer, but before I had time to answer, he proceeded to tear the sole off one of my shoes, saying "see, look at all this coming apart..." I flinched ridiculously, and felt horrified at the pain he had inflicted on my beautiful shoes. I didn't really have a choice after that, and said that I'd like him to redo the soles, and I kind of needed them re-attached. Apparently it's going to take a week, and shouldn't change anything about them, except for the falling apart bit. Fingers crossed.
This fiasco was followed by a far less stressful experience, which was international pancake day with some amazing friends. For the first time ever, I tried Nutella and berries on mine, and it was absolutely magical. The only downside is that I am now re-hooked on Nutella, and am eating some off a spoon as I write this.
As we arrived at the station to catch a train home from pancake night, we witnessed a guy sliding down the centre stair bannister, but not on his butt; he was straddling it. If this wasn't disturbing and potentially painful enough, he was rocking back an forth as though he was at a rodeo. He realised we were watching, and started playing it up even more. We then awkwardly faked being busy on the sidewalk for a couple of minutes until he left, and then hurried to our platform.
This afternoon as I got home from class, I was singing in the car, and hadn't finished the song yet, so I parked and turned off the ignition, but kept singing. I belted out the last few notes, grabbed my bag and got out of the car, only to realise that I must have been a bit louder than I thought, as an elderly man across the road - who had been watering his garden - was just standing there staring at me. I gave him an awkward smile and little nod, and left him there, absentmindedly watering his driveway rather than the roses.
Little Duck, out.
This fiasco was followed by a far less stressful experience, which was international pancake day with some amazing friends. For the first time ever, I tried Nutella and berries on mine, and it was absolutely magical. The only downside is that I am now re-hooked on Nutella, and am eating some off a spoon as I write this.
As we arrived at the station to catch a train home from pancake night, we witnessed a guy sliding down the centre stair bannister, but not on his butt; he was straddling it. If this wasn't disturbing and potentially painful enough, he was rocking back an forth as though he was at a rodeo. He realised we were watching, and started playing it up even more. We then awkwardly faked being busy on the sidewalk for a couple of minutes until he left, and then hurried to our platform.
This afternoon as I got home from class, I was singing in the car, and hadn't finished the song yet, so I parked and turned off the ignition, but kept singing. I belted out the last few notes, grabbed my bag and got out of the car, only to realise that I must have been a bit louder than I thought, as an elderly man across the road - who had been watering his garden - was just standing there staring at me. I gave him an awkward smile and little nod, and left him there, absentmindedly watering his driveway rather than the roses.
Little Duck, out.
Tuesday, 4 March 2014
Leo(re)tard
As I left for class this morning, Mr Emphysema next door was having a bit of a hissy fit. He's still going on with his garden renovations, but I'm not so sure that this morning was a good one. All I could hear as I passed was "60ml from the pole. 60ml!!!" Apparently this was a really bad thing because he sounded mad. Maybe it's karma for starting at such a ridiculous hour and waking everyone up. Just saying.
Our ballet class this morning was probably the most fun I have ever had in ballet, and was a style far more suited to the way my body naturally moves. We learned some choreography to part of the dream ballet sequence from Oaklahoma, but instead of the pretty floaty parts, we learned the cowboy parts. This involved lots of knees and weird angles, and what our teacher called "improvised barn talk." This part wasn't quite so natural, so I just pretended to be my sister, and suddenly things became a lot easier.
After our first two lessons (ballet and fitness) I went to get changed out of my tights because those things are hot. A cleaning lady was waiting to go into the stalls, but she saw that I only needed to change, and said that I could quickly go first. Of course this stressed me out, because what if I made her wait too long? This thinking got its way, and I ended up getting hopelessly tangled trying to put my leotard back on, and then I couldn't figure out how to get it back in the right way. This was all accompanied by little banging noises as I fell over, and me muttering "ow!" and "what?" When I finally vacated the cubicle, I couldn't even look her in the eye. Sorry cleaning lady.
In latin today, I was lucky enough to be paired with our amazing teacher Aric Yegudkin. It's safe to say I was terrible, and will never again be used to demonstrate, but it was fun. What made this even better, was that in a drop catch that we did, he accidentally hit me in the face. Now this might not seem like a great thing, but it means that even he makes mistakes. It's not just me! Although I still haven't seen anyone else almost poke their own eye out.
For dinner tonight I made chicken burgers, and when cleaning up I went to put the tin of beetroot in the fridge. I was singing and daggily dancing at the same time, and so I wasn't paying as much attention as I probably should have been . I put a little too much pressure on the lid, and a fountain of sticky red juice shot up, and then came down on me, the bench and the floor. I quickly looked around, and cleaned it as soon as I could, almost as though I was worried someone had seen. At least my mum should be proud, as I'm getting so into my love for beetroot that I'm now showering in its juice. Maybe it's genetic.
Xx, Little Red Duck
Our ballet class this morning was probably the most fun I have ever had in ballet, and was a style far more suited to the way my body naturally moves. We learned some choreography to part of the dream ballet sequence from Oaklahoma, but instead of the pretty floaty parts, we learned the cowboy parts. This involved lots of knees and weird angles, and what our teacher called "improvised barn talk." This part wasn't quite so natural, so I just pretended to be my sister, and suddenly things became a lot easier.
After our first two lessons (ballet and fitness) I went to get changed out of my tights because those things are hot. A cleaning lady was waiting to go into the stalls, but she saw that I only needed to change, and said that I could quickly go first. Of course this stressed me out, because what if I made her wait too long? This thinking got its way, and I ended up getting hopelessly tangled trying to put my leotard back on, and then I couldn't figure out how to get it back in the right way. This was all accompanied by little banging noises as I fell over, and me muttering "ow!" and "what?" When I finally vacated the cubicle, I couldn't even look her in the eye. Sorry cleaning lady.
In latin today, I was lucky enough to be paired with our amazing teacher Aric Yegudkin. It's safe to say I was terrible, and will never again be used to demonstrate, but it was fun. What made this even better, was that in a drop catch that we did, he accidentally hit me in the face. Now this might not seem like a great thing, but it means that even he makes mistakes. It's not just me! Although I still haven't seen anyone else almost poke their own eye out.
For dinner tonight I made chicken burgers, and when cleaning up I went to put the tin of beetroot in the fridge. I was singing and daggily dancing at the same time, and so I wasn't paying as much attention as I probably should have been . I put a little too much pressure on the lid, and a fountain of sticky red juice shot up, and then came down on me, the bench and the floor. I quickly looked around, and cleaned it as soon as I could, almost as though I was worried someone had seen. At least my mum should be proud, as I'm getting so into my love for beetroot that I'm now showering in its juice. Maybe it's genetic.
Xx, Little Red Duck
Monday, 3 March 2014
Grocery goof
I think I have finally thawed out, more than 24 hours after I first froze. Yesterday I did a photo shoot at Cronulla from 6am, beginning with swimwear. Ie, in a bikini. In the water. At 6am. Not only was I ridiculously tired (having had to get up at 4.30am to get ready,) and shaking uncontrollably (luckily this wont show on film,) but a group of teenage boys decided to body board right next to us, and thought it would be funny to stand around watching and whistling. After 4 more hours of freezing my butt off, I rugged up heavily, bought a hot chocolate, and headed home to nap. Knowing my ability to do weird things with my body, I just hope that there are some good shots in there.
Today on my way to do the groceries, I passed a vet clinic called "Benny and the pets." Not only do I love animals, but I love puns, and when they are musical puns, even better. If only Benny could sing, I would buy myself a pet just to take it there.
I also saw my first "Jim's Mowing" trailer, and so for anyone I have ever played the logo game with, it actually does exist, and the trailer is green and white. Let's file that away for future reference shall we.
I somehow managed to offend a Woolworths employee while shopping. I smiled at him as I passed him stocking shelves in the laundry aisle, and he did a double take, turned away disgustedly, and then muttered conspirationally to himself. Maybe he chose to give up friendliness for lent.
When I got home, it took me three trips downstairs to my flat to unpack the groceries. This wasn't because I had bought a ridiculous amount, but because occasionally, I'm just really stupid. I took my dance bag down before realising that I had left all my groceries in the car. I then walked back up and remembered that I had locked my car, and that my keys were downstairs. I had to go back down, get the keys, walk up, get the groceries, and take them back down. My landlords dog was very confused, and didn't know whether to bark every time I came in, or to just sit in my doorway and stare through his fringe in a bemused way. It's not a particularly interesting story, but just a demonstration of what an air head I can be.
Xx, Little Duck
Today on my way to do the groceries, I passed a vet clinic called "Benny and the pets." Not only do I love animals, but I love puns, and when they are musical puns, even better. If only Benny could sing, I would buy myself a pet just to take it there.
I also saw my first "Jim's Mowing" trailer, and so for anyone I have ever played the logo game with, it actually does exist, and the trailer is green and white. Let's file that away for future reference shall we.
I somehow managed to offend a Woolworths employee while shopping. I smiled at him as I passed him stocking shelves in the laundry aisle, and he did a double take, turned away disgustedly, and then muttered conspirationally to himself. Maybe he chose to give up friendliness for lent.
When I got home, it took me three trips downstairs to my flat to unpack the groceries. This wasn't because I had bought a ridiculous amount, but because occasionally, I'm just really stupid. I took my dance bag down before realising that I had left all my groceries in the car. I then walked back up and remembered that I had locked my car, and that my keys were downstairs. I had to go back down, get the keys, walk up, get the groceries, and take them back down. My landlords dog was very confused, and didn't know whether to bark every time I came in, or to just sit in my doorway and stare through his fringe in a bemused way. It's not a particularly interesting story, but just a demonstration of what an air head I can be.
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 1 March 2014
Picture perfect
Today marked another eventful trip into the city, after an eventful night in the city at the live filming of So You Think You Can Dance at FOX studios.
As Mardigras is on tonight, the city was filled with interesting people all day, getting ready, and just having a good time. One of my first experiences for the day was a collection of ANZ "GAYTM's." If you haven't had the privilege of seeing one of these, you are missing out. My personal favourite was covered in bedazzled Unicorns.
.jpg)
As Mardigras is on tonight, the city was filled with interesting people all day, getting ready, and just having a good time. One of my first experiences for the day was a collection of ANZ "GAYTM's." If you haven't had the privilege of seeing one of these, you are missing out. My personal favourite was covered in bedazzled Unicorns.
I then encountered a vending machine which sold appliance chargers and nothing else. This discovery made me feel far less positive about humanity than the unicorn covered ATM. Who needs to charge their phone so desperately that they would search out one of those? And if you're in the shopping centre, where do you then find a power point? At least we don't sell bottled air yet. China can keep that one.
I did however, find a shop that still sold waterproof, disposable film cameras, and this made me very, very happy. They also sold beautiful cards and really weird humorous gifts, so it was the perfect place for me to explore. It was here that found a mug both inspirational, and extremely demotivating at the same time.
I took another bar course, this one on making and pouring drinks, which is kind of a must for someone who knows nothing about alcohol, ie, me. Halfway through our beer pouring training (apparently it's an extremely important customer service skill to be able to put the right amount of head on a beer) the keg needed changing, and the gas inside made the residue spray all over the class, so we got to smell like alcoholics for the rest of the day. This wasn't so bad while we were training, but I didn't enjoy it so much while shopping and catching the train.
I discovered a Dymocks with a café on the top floor, which officially makes it the most amazing bookshop I have ever visited. I was also a giant fan of this book cover:
If you can't quite read it, the smaller print asks "how did the Romans transport water?" The kid answered "via Ducks," and drew that picture. Now apparently that got him an F in school, whereas it makes me award him an A++++++ in life.
On the way home, I discovered that not all graffiti is malicious and harmful, and that "yo mama" jokes, can even be heart warming.
Thank you Sydney trains for helping me to realise this.
Xx, Little Duck
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)