Boredom Busters

Last night I ventured out of my tiny apartment, *gasp* wait for it... twice.*no gasp, because you just died of surprise.* Firstly, I had a romantic date with myself at the movies seeing Into the Woods, both because I really wanted to see it, and because I couldn't take another uneventful day. I loved it. And that's pretty much the entire story. It's a good one, huh?
Secondly, I headed into Newtown to watch some of the Short and Sweet Top 80 plays. and I even braved the trains full of Drunk Soccer fans decked out in green and gold. I got to see a giant tarp full of water imitating the ocean, and then get splashed by it, a fully grown black man dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz with a rubber chicken instead of a dog, and a guy wearing a suit and horn rimmed glasses attempt to eat a raw fish. It was a good night, followed by Nutella pizza that as of last year,(according to a sign pushed behind an old family picture,) was among the 20 best in Sydney, 10 of which were in Newtown. I suppose if I get really bored, I can try to hunt down all 10 this year. Which would also motivate me into an intense gym routine and take up a LOT of time. I'm just saying, the option is there,

Today I went underwear shopping just to get myself out of the house again, and managed to spend an hour and a half doing it, despite only buying two sets. Window shopping may be another avenue that I should pursue. I then came home to bake another loaf of bread, had a conversation with my mum on the phone during which the only way I could get reception was to hang upside down (before I realised towards the end of the call that I could just turn the phone upside down instead,) and then I made a batch of redskin fudge, which you will be pleased/surprised to know that I have not eaten a single piece of. Yet.
Currently I am watching British comedy, and am having issues with the people who program the ads in between shows. I just saw one for the Sports bra brand Berlei, which used Serena Williams to convince ladies that these bras - very necessarily - control and eliminate bounce (because even a B cup can bounce up to 8cm during exercise,) and this was followed by a Priceline ad beginning with the phrase "Get your bounce back this summer."  Who didn't realise that this would be a bad idea? I mean, it's not like it's offensive or anything, and I doubt the companies are going to sue the channel, but it just makes the programmer look stupid. Or maybe it makes people like me look stupid for even caring, but guess what? I don't mind, because I need to keep my brain from rusting somehow.

                                                                                                     Xx,
                                                                                                          Little Duck

Discovery channels

I am four days into living my own life with no study and no restrictions, and despite everyone telling me that this is the best time of your life, full of wonderful discoveries, I'm still waiting to experience that. I have discovered a couple of things though, the first and foremost thing being; I am SO BAD at doing nothing. I've been to work, cleaned, mopped and wiped my entire apartment, washed all my clothes and dishes, sorted through my clothes to take some to Vinnies, read a large book, watched TV, sung, watched more TV, played the guitar, and even made bread. Right now, I'm talking to myself and  watching a show named 'Cheese Slices,' (all about making cheese in France.) Far from amusing myself, I have temporarily put myself off eating cheese, and come to the conclusion that I need a padded room.

Despite not taking up as much time as I hoped it would, I was quite pleased with my bread making efforts. I thought It would come out as a tiny rock hard blob that I would be hard pressed to call a loaf, but it was totally recognisably as bread, I know it's not exactly a work of art, but I had exceeded my expectations, and I celebrated.

I celebrated a little too early actually. Discovery number two was that, although I am perfectly capable of making bread, I am less than proficient at slicing it. I mean, who really has that issue? I made it through the activating of the yeast and all the kneading and proving, only to butcher my nicely formed loaf with a knife, into some small, squished and crumbling fragments. Luckily, it still smelt and tasted like fresh bread, an illusion not ruined unless I looked at it.

Another discovery I have made is that I am apparently completely invisible and occasionally completely silent as well. Although I have been home for 5 days, my landlord called me today to ask if I was OK, because he had expected me back on Thursday. Despite my having sung and played guitar loudly with the windows and sometimes the door open, left the house multiple times, looked after their dog during a storm and done my washing in the shared laundry, I have not been noticed once. I have not even made enough noise to make them suspect that someone may have broken into my flat or the laundry. I have no idea how to feel about this, but maybe I should be looking into a new career as a burglar or international jewel thief.

I'd let you know when I made my fist successful heist, but then you'd be able to turn me in.
                                                                               Xx,
                                                                                     Little (silent and invisible) Duck

Features of interest

Today was my first day back at work after my two week holiday, and although I didn't make any huge mistakes, I really had to watch myself with the VIPs that we had in. That sounds more exciting than it is, because a lot of our VIPs are just old couples that come in every single day, or the people that supply our coffee and cakes, but today we actually did have some (reasonably) interesting diners.
One of the other waitresses came over to me and whispered that apparently there was a famous footballer in the cafe, and our boss was really excited. Since she didn't know who he was, I didn't think much of it, but when I turned around, I was nearly cut in half by this;

Paul Gallen's nose. My friend may not have known who he was, but I've spent enough State of Origins yelling at him to recognise him by that feature alone, instantly. Up close, it looks so much worse; it's like a small mountain range in the middle of his face. Despite my anger at him for having missed so many important conversions over the years, I was super careful with all the meals I carried past his table, especially the ones on wooden boards, because goodness knows, the last thing he needed was another broken nose; though a collision would have been a good segue into asking how to believably act like a pansy, or if he could possibly use his newly discovered contortion skills to improve his playing this year (minus the urination part.) Considering that I wanted to keep my job, I decided that asking would not be the best life decision, and kept my mouth shut.

Speaking of poor life decisions, we had a guy come in today (not a VIP, just a regular guy,) with nothing particularly interesting about him. Exiting huh? That's what we all thought, until he turned to leave, and we could see the tattoo on the back of his neck. Innegotiable. Innegotiable. Even though our wait staff then had a debate over the correct prefix (non-negotiable, of course,) all of us knew that that was not a word. And it was innegotiable that he would ever be able to claim any grasp over the English language, ever again. 

This tattoo sent me googling similar ink catastrophes in my lunch break, and this has got to be one of my favourites. 

I know it's not the funniest mistake out there, but honestly, how do you mix up 'fudge' and 'judge?' Whether it was the tattoo artists fault for not being able to distinguish between capitol letters, or the subjects weird belief that God is the greatest baker in the universe, it's not the fudge I'd be worried about, but ironically, the judgement. 

Our second VIP for the day was the Commando, who comes in quite often with his two kids, and even occasionally lets them eat pancakes. Today was not one of those days. As he picked through his salad, he didn't look to be enjoying life at all, and it got me wondering if perhaps being fitter than everyone else makes you lonely and sad, or if having lots of muscles makes you extremely pensive. Then his ex wife walked through the door and it all made sense. Not only did he have to deal with her loudly asking the kids if they were enjoying their time with daddy, and were they looking forward to coming home to mummy, but as the kids came back inside from waving goodbye to her, his son (who could only be four or five,) launched himself at his father's backside and wedged his face firmly between its cheeks, yelling "bummy smell!" I wonder if this child is going to exhibit developmental difficulties. Needless to say, they left pretty quickly afterwards.

I then completed my shift by spilling Nutella thick shake all over the napkins as I wrapped them, and had to quickly rotate the soiled ones to the bottom and back of the pile before I got in trouble. No-one will ever know right? That's what I thought.
                                                                            Xx,
                                                                                    Little Duck

Dundee Hat of Devotion

Seeing as it has been at least 6 or 7 months since  wrote a post, I probably have no right to ever attempt a blog ever again, but guess what? I'm back.  I figure that it's a New year, and the first year ever that I'm not studying, so what does a 22 year old who suddenly has a lot of time on her hands do? Decides to take up your valuable time by writing about her stupidity. Again.  The only consolation I can offer you, is that with less to do, and more of this big pond to see, my oddities are sure to create some stories you may be able to giggle at. (Disclaimer; that's not a promise.)

Yesterday I flew back into Sydney after a few weeks at home with my family, and immediately looked like a fish out of water all over again. I struggled home on the train with my suitcase, handbag, carry on bag and a canvas, and only just managed to not stack it. As soon as I got home, I had to run out again and head to Central to attend an audition in a park, where I got to pretend to be a ninja, the Queen, the American President, and a 10 year old girl. It was great fun, and I got some really positive feedback, which tickled me almost as pink as the tips of the directors hair.
Seeing as I was right next door to the Capitol Theatre, I thought I'd put my name into the Wicked Lottery, hoping to see the show one more time before it heads to Brisbane. Luckily, my name was drawn out, and then I had the interesting task of killing two hours. I changed in a really seedy pub bathroom, had a ham and cheese sandwich and an iced chocolate in a corner cafe, and wandered aimlessly for a while, before heading into the theatre. I was sitting in the front row, and was extremely pleased with myself, until I met my seat pal. He was a very chatty old guy wearing a Crocodile Dundee hat, who had seen Wicked 64 times. 64 times this Sydney season. He rattled off about five different actresses that I could have been named after, and proceeded to tell me how well he knew the conductor and certain members of the cast (who he referred to using only their first names,)  from all the lengthy conversations he'd had with them at the stage door. I started to wonder how voluntary these conversations had been.
I knew a few people in the show, and so at the end of the performance I was heading to the stage door to say hi. Unfortunately, so was Grandpa Dundee. On the way  he told me all about the Wicked badges he'd had made and was trying to get the cast to wear, and as we walked, he gave me one of these badges,  and said that I should add him on Facebook, then tried to start a debate over whether Lerner and Loewe, or Rodgers and Hammerstein were better. During the first few minutes of waiting, he started planning all the principles we should target, and assigned me angles to cover, as though we were suddenly partners in crime. I couldn't take any more; I had to fake a sneezing fit and beg off sick, making a hasty exit back to the station before a single cast member came through the door.
                                                                       Xx,
                                                                              Little Duck