So I know it seems like I've dropped off the face of the planet, but really I've just been getting used to my new job. I haven't yet dropped anyone's food or coffee (touch wood,) although a lady literally threw her toast into my bare hands as my boss walked past yesterday. He wasn't too happy. Disturbingly, my habit of bumping into high chairs has continued, but luckily, only the first one had a child in it. Small wins right?
I had my second physio appointment, and on my way there, I discovered that the suburb that the practise is in may not be a place I want to frequent. As I turned into the street, I was greeted by a giant sign featuring a cockroach crawling all over a toothbrush, and this was right next door to a building advertising itself as Kripps and Kripps solicitors.
Once I was inside, we tested the range of movement in my hamstring and then I was asked to lay on the table. Before I knew it, I was getting a butt massage. Now I wish I could tell you that my physiotherapist was an attractive male around my age, but in truth, they're a run of the mill middle aged female that has just had a baby. I just really hope that I don't have to go back, because that's a kind of awkward I would like to avoid from now on.
One girl had her birthday during the week, and so sticking to our tradition, I cooked and we all dressed up in her chosen theme; 80s let's get physical. The salted caramel nutella fudge went down really well, but I can't say that my outfit was quite as popular. On my way home I had to make an unplanned stop at the supermarket, and not having a change of clothes to use, I covered my leotard with my hoodie, but was unable to obscure my ballet tights and leg warmers. One guy actually looked up from his paper as I walked past and reacted quite verbally. After enduring the stares as I walked though the aisles, I felt like making an announcement which would have gone something like this: "Ok everybody they're just ballet tights and leg warmers. Don't worry; I don't have leprosy; I do occasionally see the sun, and I'm not trying to bring the 80's back. Enjoy your shopping." As I was thinking this, I turned a corner and crashed into a very attractive guy with nice facial hair, which weird, because I don't usually like facial hair, and this just made it all the worse. I then hurried through self serve and managed to make off with a giant stack of plastic bags as they attached themselves to mine. It was a shopping trip to remember, but hopefully more for everyone else than for me.
Today my game of thrones obsession paid off even more than it usually does, as my latin teacher also loves it, and being the only other person in the room that watched it, we got into a good conversation about it, which led to me to being picked as his partner. I really love dancing with him, I just wish I wasn't so uncoordinated. I didn't injure him at all this time, miraculously, and the one bump we did have he apologised for, but my feet just didn't want to play the game. I feel like I need to go and take secret extra latin lessons so that I can be at least a little better next time, although a ridiculously fast improvement (like baby's in Dirty Dancing,) would be ideal.
Now that I've caught you up on my not so interesting, (just slightly embarrassing) life, I'm off to watch Masterchef and eat a cookie. Jealous?
Xx, Little Duck
Tuesday, 10 June 2014
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Career as a klutz
After an extremely busy and eventful weekend, I have surprised myself at just how weird and clueless I can be at times.
Aside from the usual shenanigans, (like managing to scratch my latin teacher while I was dancing with someone else,) I had a few out of the ordinary experiences. We tried sand dune training for one of our fitness sessions this week, and while being extremely hard and actually quite fun, I'm not sure whether I looked more like a beached whale or a crab that was missing a majority of its legs. I then had to go from this to my first ever physio appointment (but before I made it inside I walked up and down the street four or five times looking for the right place, and eventually had to a guy in a pizza place where to go. He was very nice.) Once inside, I received an extremely awkward butt massage and left half a beach on the massage table.
When I finally got home, Mr Emphysema was sitting out on his front lawn, and smiled and waved to me. I was so surprised that I dropped the pen I was carrying, and when I bent to pick it up, my sports bag slipped down my back, so that when I stood up, it caught under my butt, and I hobbled around hunchbacked for a good ten seconds before freeing myself and hurriedly waving back to my newly friendly neighbour while avoiding eye contact and running for cover.
I had my first shift at my new café job, and I'm really proud that I didn't drop or spill anything, but I did manage to endanger a child. While delivering the last part of an order to a young couple and their toddler, I accidentally kicked the leg of the high chair, causing it to rock precariously. I stood there paralysed, having no clue what to do, and just watching the looks of horror on the parents faces. Luckily, the kid seemed to really enjoy it, and laughed his little chocolate smeared head off, which seemed to break the tension. He got his own back on me though, because as they left, he tipped his plate of chips all over the floor and left me to deal with them.
Towards the end of the shift when it had quietened down, the barista offered to make me a hot chocolate. It was the best hot chocolate I had ever had, and although I tried to be delicate and make sure none of it got on my face, when I got to the car, I found that I had worked the last half an hour with cocoa stuck all around the edges of my mouth. Smooth.
I then moved on to a State of Origin promo at ANZ stadium. where I was required to wear a blue bob wig that was far less than flattering. One little girl thought I was Katy Perry, started squealing and hugged my legs, one man tried to yank the wig from my head when I said I didn't have any spares that he could have, and one seedy middle aged guy told me that he didn't want the flyers I was handing out, he just wanted my number, as he was recently divorced.
I then decided that this was plenty of activity for a Friday and Saturday, and rounded out my social activities for the weekend my watching two of my teachers in concert with their dance crew. It was absolutely hilarious, and the dancing was phenomenal. You should check them out on Youtube, just search 'Phly Crew.' After this event, all my friends went out, and I returned home to spend my night with a bottle of diet coke, my assessments and some cookbooks, earning me an A+ in antisocial efforts.
Xx, Little Duck
Aside from the usual shenanigans, (like managing to scratch my latin teacher while I was dancing with someone else,) I had a few out of the ordinary experiences. We tried sand dune training for one of our fitness sessions this week, and while being extremely hard and actually quite fun, I'm not sure whether I looked more like a beached whale or a crab that was missing a majority of its legs. I then had to go from this to my first ever physio appointment (but before I made it inside I walked up and down the street four or five times looking for the right place, and eventually had to a guy in a pizza place where to go. He was very nice.) Once inside, I received an extremely awkward butt massage and left half a beach on the massage table.
When I finally got home, Mr Emphysema was sitting out on his front lawn, and smiled and waved to me. I was so surprised that I dropped the pen I was carrying, and when I bent to pick it up, my sports bag slipped down my back, so that when I stood up, it caught under my butt, and I hobbled around hunchbacked for a good ten seconds before freeing myself and hurriedly waving back to my newly friendly neighbour while avoiding eye contact and running for cover.
I had my first shift at my new café job, and I'm really proud that I didn't drop or spill anything, but I did manage to endanger a child. While delivering the last part of an order to a young couple and their toddler, I accidentally kicked the leg of the high chair, causing it to rock precariously. I stood there paralysed, having no clue what to do, and just watching the looks of horror on the parents faces. Luckily, the kid seemed to really enjoy it, and laughed his little chocolate smeared head off, which seemed to break the tension. He got his own back on me though, because as they left, he tipped his plate of chips all over the floor and left me to deal with them.
Towards the end of the shift when it had quietened down, the barista offered to make me a hot chocolate. It was the best hot chocolate I had ever had, and although I tried to be delicate and make sure none of it got on my face, when I got to the car, I found that I had worked the last half an hour with cocoa stuck all around the edges of my mouth. Smooth.
I then moved on to a State of Origin promo at ANZ stadium. where I was required to wear a blue bob wig that was far less than flattering. One little girl thought I was Katy Perry, started squealing and hugged my legs, one man tried to yank the wig from my head when I said I didn't have any spares that he could have, and one seedy middle aged guy told me that he didn't want the flyers I was handing out, he just wanted my number, as he was recently divorced.
I then decided that this was plenty of activity for a Friday and Saturday, and rounded out my social activities for the weekend my watching two of my teachers in concert with their dance crew. It was absolutely hilarious, and the dancing was phenomenal. You should check them out on Youtube, just search 'Phly Crew.' After this event, all my friends went out, and I returned home to spend my night with a bottle of diet coke, my assessments and some cookbooks, earning me an A+ in antisocial efforts.
Xx, Little Duck
Monday, 19 May 2014
No pain, no gain
Today I moved on from accidently injuring others, and started hurting myself. Hopefully this is a permanent graduation, as I'm a bit sick of apologising to my entire class before we do an exercise, because I am potentially going to injure them. They used to think it was funny, but I think they have since learned better.
I was given a beautiful strawberry tart, and in my excited haste to eat it, I decided to skip putting it on a plate, and instead tried to eat it off its plastic lid. This went fine, until the fork stabbed through the lid and into my hand. I would have to say that it was worth the pain, as it was a really good tart, and I didn't even bleed, so it was all fine.
During an improvisation session for my first choreography assessment, I not only managed to annoy everyone in my rehearsal room by having my headphones break just before the session and needing to play my song out loud, but I also managed to create a giant diagonal bruise tracing from my left little toe, and up and over my right shoulder. It was a good way to make sure that I was doing ninja rolls on the right angle, but hopefully I can discover a less painful way to check this next time.
On my way home I saw a lady in a car eating popcorn, and whenever we stopped at lights, she would literally stuff her face. If she looked over and saw someone watching, she would look absolutely mortified, as if she didn't understand how anyone could possibly notice. She would then eat another handful for comfort (in a way that was nowhere near as subtle as she thought,) and drive off to the next set of lights.
Since getting home, I have managed to solve my Game of Thrones withdrawals, happily watching a few episodes while my dinner cooked. This dinner happened to involve chicken. On the bone. Anyone who knows me well will know that I don't do bones in meat because they're hella awkward to eat around, and they remind me that what I'm eating was alive once. My bravado at trying something new disappeared a little when I had to cut it off the bone, but I just feel the need to say, "HEY MUM!! Still refusing to be a vegetarian!!"
I am now pressing send on a message to my mums partner, saying "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" and containing a picture of some beautiful rainbow cheesecakes, which I may or may not be telling him that I made especially for him. I'm sure he'll understand.
Xx, Little Duck
I was given a beautiful strawberry tart, and in my excited haste to eat it, I decided to skip putting it on a plate, and instead tried to eat it off its plastic lid. This went fine, until the fork stabbed through the lid and into my hand. I would have to say that it was worth the pain, as it was a really good tart, and I didn't even bleed, so it was all fine.
During an improvisation session for my first choreography assessment, I not only managed to annoy everyone in my rehearsal room by having my headphones break just before the session and needing to play my song out loud, but I also managed to create a giant diagonal bruise tracing from my left little toe, and up and over my right shoulder. It was a good way to make sure that I was doing ninja rolls on the right angle, but hopefully I can discover a less painful way to check this next time.
On my way home I saw a lady in a car eating popcorn, and whenever we stopped at lights, she would literally stuff her face. If she looked over and saw someone watching, she would look absolutely mortified, as if she didn't understand how anyone could possibly notice. She would then eat another handful for comfort (in a way that was nowhere near as subtle as she thought,) and drive off to the next set of lights.
Since getting home, I have managed to solve my Game of Thrones withdrawals, happily watching a few episodes while my dinner cooked. This dinner happened to involve chicken. On the bone. Anyone who knows me well will know that I don't do bones in meat because they're hella awkward to eat around, and they remind me that what I'm eating was alive once. My bravado at trying something new disappeared a little when I had to cut it off the bone, but I just feel the need to say, "HEY MUM!! Still refusing to be a vegetarian!!"
I am now pressing send on a message to my mums partner, saying "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" and containing a picture of some beautiful rainbow cheesecakes, which I may or may not be telling him that I made especially for him. I'm sure he'll understand.
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 18 May 2014
Childs play
Being a skittle lover and moving to a colder climate creates problems. I am a big fan of tasting the rainbow, but in Sydney's autumn, this rainbow is beginning to taste like broken teeth. This did not stop me making it through a packet of these sweet treats this morning, but it did cause quite a bit of pain, and sorrow. As someone who has previously inflicted this same pain on themselves when mistakenly using skittles as the mix in for their cold rock ice cream, I was devastated to find that it could occur due to weather and not just stupidity. On the bright side, this discovery means that I can now go on the hunt for a new winter indulgence. Challenge accepted!!
I embarked on a short shopping trip this morning to stock up on some odd little bits for a few classes, and this led me to the biggest Westfield in my area, which is currently under massive renovations. A mess of scaffolding and closed stores meant that instead of shopping, I ended up treasure hunting, with Rebel sport being my prize. I was looking for soft knee pads to use in my tricking classes, but could not for the life of me find them; only ones to wear for all forms of skating and scooting (which apparently is a legitimate verb.) I decided to ask someone for help, but children's games were obviously the theme of the day, as the shop assistants seemed to be playing hide and seek. Whenever I found them, they were helping somebody else, but two seconds later I would turn back and they would be gone. Half an hour later I finally clutched my knee pads as a smiling shop assistant slapped her name sticker on them to let the checkout people know how helpful she had been.
After spending a lot of time doing a lot of nothing, I went home to grab some lunch, and found that in portioning out my spaghetti leftovers last night, I had failed miserably. I had plenty of teddy bear noodles in my container, but the tiniest bit of mince to top it. I decided to cover it in tomato sauce, but the sauce decided it wanted to cover me instead, and squirted all over my jeans, the bench and the floor, with not a drop landing on the pasta. After wiping it up, I ate my pasta with a tiny bit of very carefully placed sauce, and debated what kind of an adult I am when I can't even control a sauce bottle.
This afternoon I had a job trial in a busy café, and I was absolutely terrified of dropping something, messing up an order, or just being ridiculously awkward. Luckily the boss just said that he wanted to see me be busy, and he didn't care if I had to wipe the same table 50 times to achieve this. I really hope that he didn't notice me actually wiping a table that many times before the trial was over.
As I delivered coffees to a table, (miraculously without spilling them,) a little girl in her pram pulled a funny face at me. I looked at her mother, who was gazing at me expectantly, and had a minor panic that it was going to be my lack of child interaction skills that would blow the job for me, and hurriedly pulled a face back. I then went to smile at the mother as I walked away, but she looked absolutely horrified, and so I tucked tail and ran, their empty water glasses in hand.
All in all, the only casualties for the day were my sauce stained jeans and a few of my teeth, so I guess that it wasn't a complete disaster.
Little Duck, out.
I embarked on a short shopping trip this morning to stock up on some odd little bits for a few classes, and this led me to the biggest Westfield in my area, which is currently under massive renovations. A mess of scaffolding and closed stores meant that instead of shopping, I ended up treasure hunting, with Rebel sport being my prize. I was looking for soft knee pads to use in my tricking classes, but could not for the life of me find them; only ones to wear for all forms of skating and scooting (which apparently is a legitimate verb.) I decided to ask someone for help, but children's games were obviously the theme of the day, as the shop assistants seemed to be playing hide and seek. Whenever I found them, they were helping somebody else, but two seconds later I would turn back and they would be gone. Half an hour later I finally clutched my knee pads as a smiling shop assistant slapped her name sticker on them to let the checkout people know how helpful she had been.
After spending a lot of time doing a lot of nothing, I went home to grab some lunch, and found that in portioning out my spaghetti leftovers last night, I had failed miserably. I had plenty of teddy bear noodles in my container, but the tiniest bit of mince to top it. I decided to cover it in tomato sauce, but the sauce decided it wanted to cover me instead, and squirted all over my jeans, the bench and the floor, with not a drop landing on the pasta. After wiping it up, I ate my pasta with a tiny bit of very carefully placed sauce, and debated what kind of an adult I am when I can't even control a sauce bottle.
This afternoon I had a job trial in a busy café, and I was absolutely terrified of dropping something, messing up an order, or just being ridiculously awkward. Luckily the boss just said that he wanted to see me be busy, and he didn't care if I had to wipe the same table 50 times to achieve this. I really hope that he didn't notice me actually wiping a table that many times before the trial was over.
As I delivered coffees to a table, (miraculously without spilling them,) a little girl in her pram pulled a funny face at me. I looked at her mother, who was gazing at me expectantly, and had a minor panic that it was going to be my lack of child interaction skills that would blow the job for me, and hurriedly pulled a face back. I then went to smile at the mother as I walked away, but she looked absolutely horrified, and so I tucked tail and ran, their empty water glasses in hand.
All in all, the only casualties for the day were my sauce stained jeans and a few of my teeth, so I guess that it wasn't a complete disaster.
Little Duck, out.
Friday, 16 May 2014
Cowgirls and cream
I never learn. After I finished class this afternoon, my battered and bruised body was desperately caving ice cream, and so I set out for the supermarket. Walking down the escalator and into Coles, I wondered why I was getting odd looks, and then saw my reflection in a window. I was in bike shorts and backless workout top, dripping in sweat with bedraggled hair, and to top it all off, I was walking as though I had just spent a week on a horse. To make matters worse, I didn't just go to the one shopping centre, I had to go to two.
I was after a particular ice cream that I used to make when I worked in the ice cream factory, but I never had a chance to try it. Now everybody is raving about it, and I realise that I have missed my chance to be an ice cream hipster. The first Coles I went to didn't have any left, and so I went on a Coles hunt, with the aid of my trusty GPS. After successfully acquiring the cream based frozen dessert that I was after, I topped off my adult life decisions for the day with the purchase of some Teddy Bear shaped pasta for my bolognaise.
On my way home, I got stuck behind a little blue car stacked high with surfboards and a sticker that said "skate to make cancer history." I was wondering if the old couple inside had borrowed their sons car, or if they were just deceptively radical for their age. As I overtook them, I discovered that the old lady was actually a blonde surfer guy with a hair style resembling a perm, and the old man was just a cap wearing skater with a terrible neck hunch. I first felt really guilty for judging them, and then laughed myself stupid.
Remember my giant whinge about not being able to sleep because of my noisy neighbours? Well I believe at the time I said that Mr Emphysema and his decaying lungs were no longer a problem, but I definitely jinxed myself. Every night without fail, he is back on his veranda coughing me what he must believe to be a lullaby. I also had my first in person encounter with him the other morning; as I was running to my car balancing a birthday cake, gym bag and chocolate moulds (after accidently locking myself out due to said cake, and then having a prolonged conversation about gas heating with my landlords,) I ran into him taking out the garbage. I politely said good morning, and he happily rasped "party time!" and pointed to the cake. Maybe he does like cake after all, and I can trade him sweet things for fresh veggies or eggs, or even better, get him addicted to baking rather than tar bars. Maybe.
I have just discovered the cooking channel on Foxtel, so I will leave you to your exciting lives while I spend my Friday night watching food shows, crying quietly to myself on my foam roller, and eating my hard won ice cream.
Xx, Little Duck
I was after a particular ice cream that I used to make when I worked in the ice cream factory, but I never had a chance to try it. Now everybody is raving about it, and I realise that I have missed my chance to be an ice cream hipster. The first Coles I went to didn't have any left, and so I went on a Coles hunt, with the aid of my trusty GPS. After successfully acquiring the cream based frozen dessert that I was after, I topped off my adult life decisions for the day with the purchase of some Teddy Bear shaped pasta for my bolognaise.
On my way home, I got stuck behind a little blue car stacked high with surfboards and a sticker that said "skate to make cancer history." I was wondering if the old couple inside had borrowed their sons car, or if they were just deceptively radical for their age. As I overtook them, I discovered that the old lady was actually a blonde surfer guy with a hair style resembling a perm, and the old man was just a cap wearing skater with a terrible neck hunch. I first felt really guilty for judging them, and then laughed myself stupid.
Remember my giant whinge about not being able to sleep because of my noisy neighbours? Well I believe at the time I said that Mr Emphysema and his decaying lungs were no longer a problem, but I definitely jinxed myself. Every night without fail, he is back on his veranda coughing me what he must believe to be a lullaby. I also had my first in person encounter with him the other morning; as I was running to my car balancing a birthday cake, gym bag and chocolate moulds (after accidently locking myself out due to said cake, and then having a prolonged conversation about gas heating with my landlords,) I ran into him taking out the garbage. I politely said good morning, and he happily rasped "party time!" and pointed to the cake. Maybe he does like cake after all, and I can trade him sweet things for fresh veggies or eggs, or even better, get him addicted to baking rather than tar bars. Maybe.
I have just discovered the cooking channel on Foxtel, so I will leave you to your exciting lives while I spend my Friday night watching food shows, crying quietly to myself on my foam roller, and eating my hard won ice cream.
Xx, Little Duck
Sunday, 11 May 2014
Food baby
I have had the most food intensive weekend. I am lucky that I don't really have anything to do tonight, because I don't think that I could move if my life depended on it.
I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I set an alarm for midnight on Friday so that I could eat some chocolate, and as much as I love sleep, it was worth it. I began my Saturday with the largest meal I think I have ever eaten; bacon and eggs, raisin toast, and homemade banana pancakes with strawberries and honey. Not only was it wonderful to eat salt, meat and fresh fruit again, but I had missed cooking so much!! Boiling the jug to put hot water into my two minute noodles at lunch didn't really count, and so getting out my chopping board and frying pan again was super therapeutic.
Lunch time saw a trip to Bondi beach to have lunch with some friends, and my first visit to Grill'd burger bar. My burger was absolutely amazing, but I could not for the life of me finish it after that mega breakfast, but I did try!
We then window shopped our way through the largest, and nicest Westfield I had ever seen, full of shops that all seemed to offer complimentary cups of T2 when you entered. For everyone else this was heaven, but for someone who doesn't like tea (namely me,) this just meant awkwardly trying to avoid the shop assistants in every way possible, including seeing a particularly odd furry hat, loudly exclaiming my undying love for it, and rushing to the other side of the store to try it on.
Today I did my first ever promo gig at the NRL, where we gave out free soap and hand cream to all the obviously smelly mothers, and various vouchers and freebies to everyone else. While taking a turn at handing out the inflatable pink tubes known as "thunder sticks," I was yelled at by two different elderly men, one who claimed that he was far too old for such a childish toy, and how dare I even offer him one, and the other, (obviously colour blind,) was convinced that I was trying to give him Manly Sea Eagles merchandise, and this made him mad as, a) the Sea eagles weren't even playing, and b) he really hated the sea eagles. Let's just say that I had far more success giving out the free meal vouchers. It's weird how much more friendly people become when the word 'free' is followed by the word 'pie.'
On the way home, we stopped off at Pancakes on the Rocks, where I added considerably to this weekends food baby, which pushed me over the edge and into my current food coma.
I followed this with the boring chore of grocery shopping (looking quite dumb in my dragons jersey and heels, and feeling like a fraud when I couldn't tell anyone the score, because I hadn't actually seen the game,) and collecting my washing. I seem to have lost three socks since this morning, which I guess will be like a treasure hunt for my landlords when they do their washing.
Hopefully I am able to move again by class tomorrow, but I'm going to be cutting it close.
(no longer so) Little Duck, Out
I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I set an alarm for midnight on Friday so that I could eat some chocolate, and as much as I love sleep, it was worth it. I began my Saturday with the largest meal I think I have ever eaten; bacon and eggs, raisin toast, and homemade banana pancakes with strawberries and honey. Not only was it wonderful to eat salt, meat and fresh fruit again, but I had missed cooking so much!! Boiling the jug to put hot water into my two minute noodles at lunch didn't really count, and so getting out my chopping board and frying pan again was super therapeutic.
Lunch time saw a trip to Bondi beach to have lunch with some friends, and my first visit to Grill'd burger bar. My burger was absolutely amazing, but I could not for the life of me finish it after that mega breakfast, but I did try!
We then window shopped our way through the largest, and nicest Westfield I had ever seen, full of shops that all seemed to offer complimentary cups of T2 when you entered. For everyone else this was heaven, but for someone who doesn't like tea (namely me,) this just meant awkwardly trying to avoid the shop assistants in every way possible, including seeing a particularly odd furry hat, loudly exclaiming my undying love for it, and rushing to the other side of the store to try it on.
Today I did my first ever promo gig at the NRL, where we gave out free soap and hand cream to all the obviously smelly mothers, and various vouchers and freebies to everyone else. While taking a turn at handing out the inflatable pink tubes known as "thunder sticks," I was yelled at by two different elderly men, one who claimed that he was far too old for such a childish toy, and how dare I even offer him one, and the other, (obviously colour blind,) was convinced that I was trying to give him Manly Sea Eagles merchandise, and this made him mad as, a) the Sea eagles weren't even playing, and b) he really hated the sea eagles. Let's just say that I had far more success giving out the free meal vouchers. It's weird how much more friendly people become when the word 'free' is followed by the word 'pie.'
On the way home, we stopped off at Pancakes on the Rocks, where I added considerably to this weekends food baby, which pushed me over the edge and into my current food coma.
I followed this with the boring chore of grocery shopping (looking quite dumb in my dragons jersey and heels, and feeling like a fraud when I couldn't tell anyone the score, because I hadn't actually seen the game,) and collecting my washing. I seem to have lost three socks since this morning, which I guess will be like a treasure hunt for my landlords when they do their washing.
Hopefully I am able to move again by class tomorrow, but I'm going to be cutting it close.
(no longer so) Little Duck, Out
Thursday, 8 May 2014
Noisy Neighbours
I know that people say that cool kids don't sleep, but I don't think that I want to be cool anymore. Getting to sleep at night is struggle enough, but it's in the morning when I'm comfy and cozy that I really dread the waking hours, and it seems that the world has made it its mission to prevent my pillowy happiness. I used to think that Mr Emphysema's cough was as bad as it could get, but there a few new items high on my sleep disruptor list, and they are relentless. It starts with the garbage trucks, anytime between 4.30-5am, and despite there only being 3 types of bins, I could swear those trucks go by every single morning. Our neighbours across the fence have recently decided to undertake some super loud renovations that require a loud dozer and a loud work team that begin their work right after the garbage truck leaves. It doesn't help that this seems to be a highly incompetent work team, as their site manager yells a lot, making sure that I know they're up and at it. Lastly, 80% of the people on our street seem to be redoing their driveways, and so there is a current abundance of cement trucks out and about in the morning, which is not only loud, but super inconvenient when trying to drive out. A cosy (and hopefully uninterrupted) sleep in is just one more reason to look forward to Saturday morning.
Today was my second last day of Live Below the Line, and it has been the hardest so far. I'm still loving my 2 minute noodles, but for the first time today, I was actually hungry. It has been a really great experience that has raised more than a million dollars so far, got me back to what I weighed before easter (no small feat, let me tell you!) and made me realise just how many little things we take for granted. I have already drawn up a shopping list for tomorrow afternoon of things that I 'll be eating as soon as I wake up on Saturday (or at midnight tomorrow if sleep continues to evade me.) Top on the list is fresh fruit, and second, is chocolate. No surprises there! With only one day left of the challenge, you still have tomorrow to support the cause if it's something you're interested in. You can leave a strait donation on the live below the line website, or go through my participant page at https://www.livebelowtheline.com.au/me/hayley_larsen
Last night I witnessed the awesomeness that is Captain America: The Winter Soldier. it's everything you love in a Marvel movie, with incredible fight scenes, humour in the least likely of places, and just all round bad-assness. I desperately want to be in a superhero movie one day, and not as a kidnapping victim, but as someone who gets to do some of the butt kicking. I guess this means I need to become far less uncoordinated in my tricking and tumbling classes. When I finally nail my combat and unnecessary flipping skills, my only proviso to accepting the role will be; no capes. Anyone who doesn't listen to Edna Mode has to be stupid.
Tomorrow I have a Moulin Rouge workshop, and our dress brief is "cabaret wear," ie. not much. Wearing fishnets with a leotard isn't really on my bucket list, but I don't really have a choice. Let's just hope that my usual propensity for wardrobe malfunctions disappears tomorrow, because enough people have unintentionally seen my underwear to fill my lifetime quota I feel. Fingers crossed.
Xx, Little Duck
Today was my second last day of Live Below the Line, and it has been the hardest so far. I'm still loving my 2 minute noodles, but for the first time today, I was actually hungry. It has been a really great experience that has raised more than a million dollars so far, got me back to what I weighed before easter (no small feat, let me tell you!) and made me realise just how many little things we take for granted. I have already drawn up a shopping list for tomorrow afternoon of things that I 'll be eating as soon as I wake up on Saturday (or at midnight tomorrow if sleep continues to evade me.) Top on the list is fresh fruit, and second, is chocolate. No surprises there! With only one day left of the challenge, you still have tomorrow to support the cause if it's something you're interested in. You can leave a strait donation on the live below the line website, or go through my participant page at https://www.livebelowtheline.com.au/me/hayley_larsen
Last night I witnessed the awesomeness that is Captain America: The Winter Soldier. it's everything you love in a Marvel movie, with incredible fight scenes, humour in the least likely of places, and just all round bad-assness. I desperately want to be in a superhero movie one day, and not as a kidnapping victim, but as someone who gets to do some of the butt kicking. I guess this means I need to become far less uncoordinated in my tricking and tumbling classes. When I finally nail my combat and unnecessary flipping skills, my only proviso to accepting the role will be; no capes. Anyone who doesn't listen to Edna Mode has to be stupid.
Tomorrow I have a Moulin Rouge workshop, and our dress brief is "cabaret wear," ie. not much. Wearing fishnets with a leotard isn't really on my bucket list, but I don't really have a choice. Let's just hope that my usual propensity for wardrobe malfunctions disappears tomorrow, because enough people have unintentionally seen my underwear to fill my lifetime quota I feel. Fingers crossed.
Xx, Little Duck
Tuesday, 6 May 2014
Condiment cravings
You will be glad to know that, despite having had a couple of weeks off, my toe stomping skills in Latin have not suffered. Not only did I manage to step on a record number of toes today, but I also developed a new skill; falling over a lot. The sad thing about this is, I had a partner trying to hold me up every time, and I still managed it.
I have discovered that when living in the city at this time of year, dropping your key in the car park does not lead to assault (hopefully,) but is far more likely to led to freezing to death, or in the very least, frozen fingers. It's only Autumn here, what will mid-winter be like? I am scared for my easily chilled body and the new levels of iciness that it will achieve next season. This cold snap has forced me to be inventive, and tested my commitment to my stretching. If you came over last night you would have found me lying on the floor wrapped in my doona, attempting to use my roller and stretch out. I'm a little odd, but hopefully I'll eventually be odd, warm and flexible.
Today marks the end of the second day of my live below the line challenge, and it hadn't been too bad... until Masterhef came on. I'm not going hungry, but I am going seasoning-less, and it's killing me. Having to roast the pumpkin for my soup without salt went against everything I have ever been told. I love bread, but have you ever had to eat it from the freezer without butter or any other spread? It's not quite so exciting, although I have discovered that if you eat it while it's still frozen, it lasts longer, and gives it a bit of a different taste. Living in a world where you can't have vegemite, or butter, or even bread sometimes must really suck, and I guess that's why I'm doing this.
I thought it might be fun (or at least therapeutic for me) to share with you my cravings. Today I am missing salt a lot. You never realise how much flavour it adds until you can't have it. I am also desperately craving cheese; I saw a picture of pizza and that was it, I wanted that melty, yellow goodness. I love cheese so much, and I was hit by the realisation that I will have to skip my cheeseburger Friday this week. First world problems right? Lastly, as we all knew I would, I am missing sugar, but today, it's in the form of chocolate. Just looking at all those gooey, chocolatey desserts on masterchef was enough to make me salivate. I'm already planning my meals for this Saturday when I finish the challenge, but I'm sure they will change over the week as I crave different things. The best thing about this challenge (other than helping people,) oddly is having 2 minute noodles for lunch. I haven't had them forever, and so they're actually sort of a treat if I look at it that way. Bring on lunch tomorrow!
If you would never wish plain frozen bread on somebody, or would like to make sure I don't crave in vain, you could leave me/a 3rd world development program a little present by following this link https://www.livebelowtheline.com.au/me/hayley_Larsen
Good thing Ducks like bread :)
Xx, Little Duck
I have discovered that when living in the city at this time of year, dropping your key in the car park does not lead to assault (hopefully,) but is far more likely to led to freezing to death, or in the very least, frozen fingers. It's only Autumn here, what will mid-winter be like? I am scared for my easily chilled body and the new levels of iciness that it will achieve next season. This cold snap has forced me to be inventive, and tested my commitment to my stretching. If you came over last night you would have found me lying on the floor wrapped in my doona, attempting to use my roller and stretch out. I'm a little odd, but hopefully I'll eventually be odd, warm and flexible.
Today marks the end of the second day of my live below the line challenge, and it hadn't been too bad... until Masterhef came on. I'm not going hungry, but I am going seasoning-less, and it's killing me. Having to roast the pumpkin for my soup without salt went against everything I have ever been told. I love bread, but have you ever had to eat it from the freezer without butter or any other spread? It's not quite so exciting, although I have discovered that if you eat it while it's still frozen, it lasts longer, and gives it a bit of a different taste. Living in a world where you can't have vegemite, or butter, or even bread sometimes must really suck, and I guess that's why I'm doing this.
I thought it might be fun (or at least therapeutic for me) to share with you my cravings. Today I am missing salt a lot. You never realise how much flavour it adds until you can't have it. I am also desperately craving cheese; I saw a picture of pizza and that was it, I wanted that melty, yellow goodness. I love cheese so much, and I was hit by the realisation that I will have to skip my cheeseburger Friday this week. First world problems right? Lastly, as we all knew I would, I am missing sugar, but today, it's in the form of chocolate. Just looking at all those gooey, chocolatey desserts on masterchef was enough to make me salivate. I'm already planning my meals for this Saturday when I finish the challenge, but I'm sure they will change over the week as I crave different things. The best thing about this challenge (other than helping people,) oddly is having 2 minute noodles for lunch. I haven't had them forever, and so they're actually sort of a treat if I look at it that way. Bring on lunch tomorrow!
If you would never wish plain frozen bread on somebody, or would like to make sure I don't crave in vain, you could leave me/a 3rd world development program a little present by following this link https://www.livebelowtheline.com.au/me/hayley_Larsen
Good thing Ducks like bread :)
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 3 May 2014
Let Down
I have developed a terrible memory. Every time that something funny happens that I want to tell you about, I have been forgetting it by the time I hit the keyboard. It must be my old age setting in, and has led to me skipping a couple of days blogging, simply because I can't think of anything interesting to tell you.
Today I did hardly anything, apart from scaring myself awake by touching my arm that had pins and needles and thinking it was someone else. Since that lovely awakening, I have watched some Game of Thrones, discovered that my new jeans had a sticker on the inside and had to peel it painfully from my butt, and made a short trip outside (where I nearly froze, and rushed back inside.) To make up for todays lack of interesting events, I will instead tell you of my new mission to eat everything in my fridge and cupboard. (Well, almost everything.)
This may sound like a mission deigned to make me fat, but it's actually designed to stop wastage and temptation. As of Monday I will be undertaking the 5 day 'live below the line' challenge. For anyone that doesn't know what this is, it means that from Monday until Friday this week, I will be feeding myself for $2 or less a day, which is the national extreme poverty figure, giving me a total of $10 to survive the week. Challenge accepted. It is designed to raise both awareness and funds for those who aren't as lucky as a lot of us are, and let me tell you, planning a menu on that kind of budget is definitely a challenge, and by the end of next week, I will surely be sick of carrots and 2 minute noodles (my lunch every single day.) I will actually get to eat reasonably well if I plan my shopping carefully, but my goodness am I going to miss my sweets! Emptying my fridge and cupboard is designed to remove any little snacky things that I might be tempted to grab as the week goes on, or things that would be growing numerous colourful mould colonies by the time I got to eat them again. Throughout the week, you will undoubtedly hear about my interesting food (or lack of,) but mostly about my sugar withdrawals. Sorry in advance.
Shameless plug time; if you think it sounds like a good cause to support, but you're not sure that taking the challenge is right for you, you could always leave a little donation on my LBTL page; https://www.livebelowtheline.com.au/donations/new?participant_id=31904
I apologise for taking up your time with this un-humorous post that does not deliver the shenanigans you have come to expect, but I have to point out that even for someone as terrible at city life as I am, there is still a lot of pressure on me to be retarded, and sometimes, I just can't do it. (However, if you make a small donation to LBTL, then I promise I will never let this happen again.) Whoever said blackmail wasn't a fundraising tactic?
Little Duck, Out.
Today I did hardly anything, apart from scaring myself awake by touching my arm that had pins and needles and thinking it was someone else. Since that lovely awakening, I have watched some Game of Thrones, discovered that my new jeans had a sticker on the inside and had to peel it painfully from my butt, and made a short trip outside (where I nearly froze, and rushed back inside.) To make up for todays lack of interesting events, I will instead tell you of my new mission to eat everything in my fridge and cupboard. (Well, almost everything.)
This may sound like a mission deigned to make me fat, but it's actually designed to stop wastage and temptation. As of Monday I will be undertaking the 5 day 'live below the line' challenge. For anyone that doesn't know what this is, it means that from Monday until Friday this week, I will be feeding myself for $2 or less a day, which is the national extreme poverty figure, giving me a total of $10 to survive the week. Challenge accepted. It is designed to raise both awareness and funds for those who aren't as lucky as a lot of us are, and let me tell you, planning a menu on that kind of budget is definitely a challenge, and by the end of next week, I will surely be sick of carrots and 2 minute noodles (my lunch every single day.) I will actually get to eat reasonably well if I plan my shopping carefully, but my goodness am I going to miss my sweets! Emptying my fridge and cupboard is designed to remove any little snacky things that I might be tempted to grab as the week goes on, or things that would be growing numerous colourful mould colonies by the time I got to eat them again. Throughout the week, you will undoubtedly hear about my interesting food (or lack of,) but mostly about my sugar withdrawals. Sorry in advance.
Shameless plug time; if you think it sounds like a good cause to support, but you're not sure that taking the challenge is right for you, you could always leave a little donation on my LBTL page; https://www.livebelowtheline.com.au/donations/new?participant_id=31904
I apologise for taking up your time with this un-humorous post that does not deliver the shenanigans you have come to expect, but I have to point out that even for someone as terrible at city life as I am, there is still a lot of pressure on me to be retarded, and sometimes, I just can't do it. (However, if you make a small donation to LBTL, then I promise I will never let this happen again.) Whoever said blackmail wasn't a fundraising tactic?
Little Duck, Out.
Monday, 28 April 2014
Dressed to wear a dress
Today I went back to class from holidays, and after two long weeks my body wasn't quite ready for it. It was one of our classmates birthdays, and so we all wore pyjamas for the day, giving me an excuse to sport my favourite cookie monster set, which shows him adorably dressed in Hipster glasses and a bow tie, and bears the pun "One smart cookie." I love puns. And cookies.
We began class with an intensive warm up, and some routines that we hadn't looked at in a few months, so my brain was well and truly wrung out. I was quite pleased with the performance of my grey matter, but I can't exactly say the same for my body; not only did I accidentally punch my friend in the head in the middle of a routine, but unfortunately, awkward and incorrect angles still seem to be a talent of mine.
We then had a catwalk workshop, for which we had to neaten and primp our sweaty and panting bodies in the space of fifteen minutes. After being fitted for a gown (proper full length formal style gowns from up and coming designers,) we got into the first part of the class. We walked to the front of the room over and over again, learning how to pose and turn, did some partner choreography catwalk exercises, and then learned to take our jacket off and sling it over our shoulder in a smooth and effortless manner. Let me just say that it is not an exercise that requires no effort, and I definitely did not make it look smooth. After getting my arms caught, nearly flicking the person behind me as I tried to throw it over my shoulder, and pulling weird faces as I tried to master the exercise while walking, I finally got it right, and in my excitement of feeling like a pro I lost my balance on the turn and looked like far less than a pro.
When we (I) finally semi-mastered the walking and the remaining upright while turning part, we learned some group choreography, and then were told to get our gowns ready for the mock show. To simulate a real show, these were quick changes; your group would walk in their street wear, run to the dressing room while the other groups went on, change into their gowns and return to the stage. I have had plenty of experience with quick changes, but I had abut 2 minutes, and my street wear involved skinny jeans. Add to this the fact that it was a shared dressing room, and this led to me hopping around in my bra, half out of my jeans, and trying to find someone to help with my dress. The dress was a gorgeous blue strapless number, worth more than my life, and of course, was the only one with a train. Being short, I took a few steps to figure out if I could walk in it without treading on it, and immediately felt my heel snag. Someone helped me to free it, but neither of us were game to see if there was any damage. I then had to ungracefully hoik one side of the dress up so that it did not drag on the floor at all, take a huge breath to stop the corset part from sliding down, and then attempt to look ethereal and not fall over.
Luckily I didn't fall over, or accidentally flash. I can't say I was a great model, but no one died in a freak model accident cause by me, and the dress made it back to the hanger (hopefully) unscathed.
Modelling is hard.
Xx, Little Duck (who got to dress like a princess. No wonder royals are under so much stress.)
We began class with an intensive warm up, and some routines that we hadn't looked at in a few months, so my brain was well and truly wrung out. I was quite pleased with the performance of my grey matter, but I can't exactly say the same for my body; not only did I accidentally punch my friend in the head in the middle of a routine, but unfortunately, awkward and incorrect angles still seem to be a talent of mine.
We then had a catwalk workshop, for which we had to neaten and primp our sweaty and panting bodies in the space of fifteen minutes. After being fitted for a gown (proper full length formal style gowns from up and coming designers,) we got into the first part of the class. We walked to the front of the room over and over again, learning how to pose and turn, did some partner choreography catwalk exercises, and then learned to take our jacket off and sling it over our shoulder in a smooth and effortless manner. Let me just say that it is not an exercise that requires no effort, and I definitely did not make it look smooth. After getting my arms caught, nearly flicking the person behind me as I tried to throw it over my shoulder, and pulling weird faces as I tried to master the exercise while walking, I finally got it right, and in my excitement of feeling like a pro I lost my balance on the turn and looked like far less than a pro.
When we (I) finally semi-mastered the walking and the remaining upright while turning part, we learned some group choreography, and then were told to get our gowns ready for the mock show. To simulate a real show, these were quick changes; your group would walk in their street wear, run to the dressing room while the other groups went on, change into their gowns and return to the stage. I have had plenty of experience with quick changes, but I had abut 2 minutes, and my street wear involved skinny jeans. Add to this the fact that it was a shared dressing room, and this led to me hopping around in my bra, half out of my jeans, and trying to find someone to help with my dress. The dress was a gorgeous blue strapless number, worth more than my life, and of course, was the only one with a train. Being short, I took a few steps to figure out if I could walk in it without treading on it, and immediately felt my heel snag. Someone helped me to free it, but neither of us were game to see if there was any damage. I then had to ungracefully hoik one side of the dress up so that it did not drag on the floor at all, take a huge breath to stop the corset part from sliding down, and then attempt to look ethereal and not fall over.
Luckily I didn't fall over, or accidentally flash. I can't say I was a great model, but no one died in a freak model accident cause by me, and the dress made it back to the hanger (hopefully) unscathed.
Modelling is hard.
Xx, Little Duck (who got to dress like a princess. No wonder royals are under so much stress.)
Saturday, 26 April 2014
Laziness and leprosy
Never have I spent an entire day in bed watching movies. Until yesterday. After attending my nearest ANZAC dawn service (which was the longest and wettest I have ever seen,) I returned home a) drenched, because I didn't have an umbrella, and b) tired, because 4.45am is not an acceptable time to have to wake up. I decided to go back to bed and woke up 4 hours later, ate breakfast (at 11am) and then returned to bed where I watched the entire first season of Game of Thrones. (So. Much. Nudity. blegh.) As I finished the season I was interrupted by a knock on my door, which I did not want to answer. Not having been up all day, I had not brushed my hair, put on decent clothes or given any though to my appearance, and so I pretended I wasn't home. I thought I was safe, until a few seconds later, my landlord rang me. He was still standing outside, and when I answered the phone I was sure he could hear my voice, so when he asked if I was home, I caved and said I had been asleep, give me a minute and I'd be out. I then answered the door looking like the worlds biggest ming rat, to receive 3 parcels, an easter egg, two containers of dog food and a pair of undies in a plastic bag that I had accidentally dropped in the laundry. I probably looked like a zombie, and he barely hung around long enough to explain that the dog food was for the puppy, and could I please feed him while they went away this weekend.
I then decided I should vacate the house and went out to dinner with some friends. On the way to the pub we were eating at, we passed a restaurant called "The Duck Republic." I got very excited started yelling about ducks, before googling the place so that I could know what it was like and when I should plan a visit. I found that instead of being the duck friendly establishment their name implies, the main feature of their menu is actually duck. I was horrified, and now feel a touch less enthusiasm to dine there.
It was then my friends turn to start yelling, as she had spotted an attractive male out her window. Instead of pointing to him like a normal person would, she started knocking on the window and yelling quite loudly. We don't know if he actually noticed or not, because we were all either laughing too hard to see, or too mortified to look; it wasn't exactly a subtle first impression to give.
Today I drove to the airport to pick up a friend, and as I did, my day was made. As I stopped at a set of traffic lights in Brighton le-sands (a very appropriately named place for this story,) a man with crazy hair and an impressive moustache came out a coffee shop on a unicycle. He then rode off down the street with his takeaway cup and not a care in the world. I feel that he must be the worlds original hipster.
Little Duck, out
P.S Did you notice that this post had absolutely nothing to do with leprosy? (Unless you count me feeling like a leper when I had to answer the door.) Tricked you!
I then decided I should vacate the house and went out to dinner with some friends. On the way to the pub we were eating at, we passed a restaurant called "The Duck Republic." I got very excited started yelling about ducks, before googling the place so that I could know what it was like and when I should plan a visit. I found that instead of being the duck friendly establishment their name implies, the main feature of their menu is actually duck. I was horrified, and now feel a touch less enthusiasm to dine there.
It was then my friends turn to start yelling, as she had spotted an attractive male out her window. Instead of pointing to him like a normal person would, she started knocking on the window and yelling quite loudly. We don't know if he actually noticed or not, because we were all either laughing too hard to see, or too mortified to look; it wasn't exactly a subtle first impression to give.
Today I drove to the airport to pick up a friend, and as I did, my day was made. As I stopped at a set of traffic lights in Brighton le-sands (a very appropriately named place for this story,) a man with crazy hair and an impressive moustache came out a coffee shop on a unicycle. He then rode off down the street with his takeaway cup and not a care in the world. I feel that he must be the worlds original hipster.
Little Duck, out
P.S Did you notice that this post had absolutely nothing to do with leprosy? (Unless you count me feeling like a leper when I had to answer the door.) Tricked you!
Wednesday, 23 April 2014
Shenanigans in the sticks
I'm back!! Miss me? I was greeted by a smoggy sunset over the harbour, a barking dog who forgot me in the space of a week, leaf blower residue all over my floor, and one of my giant slug friends. It's nice to be home.
While visiting my family for easter, I had quite a few mini adventures, but nowhere near as many as I usually have in Sydney, proving just how bad I am at city life.
I learned to cook Thai from my dads girlfriend (who is Thai if that clears anything up,) and seeing as neither my dad nor my brothers will eat spicy things, I agreed to eat all the hot versions of her dishes. I think that these particular chillis she used may have been on steroids, because I love spicy things, and have been known to eat spoonfuls of wasabi to win bets, but I have never eaten a dish that has made me sweat before. After the first mouthful my face was clammy and gross, and I went through a litre of water in a matter of minutes. Even she was sweating and gasping. If I ever have a cold, I know what to make to get me going again.
I went to the beach with my brothers, and seeing as I hadn't packed any swimmers, my 14 year old brother dressed me in his board shorts and t-shirt, and I wore one of his caps. With my attire, flat chest and hairless legs, I must have looked like the oddest boy ever, and had fun tying to walk like a male, but this just received laughter from the boys and disgusted groans from my mother, so I stuck to being an extremely effeminate and perhaps pre-pubescent boy.
Due to the internet black hole that is my fathers house, I think I aged about 50 years in one weekend, and played a ridiculous amount of solitaire. When I say solitaire, I don't just mean the typical kind,(which is called Klondike if you were at all curious,) I mean all 6 kinds that windows 8 offers. Sometimes my technological dependency disgusts me, but at least if I'm ever kidnapped and forced into an underground solitaire tournament, I may have some chance of survival.
Woolworths centro has witnessed my largest fashion faux pas in approximately the last 5 years, being unfortunate enough to view my nice button up stud collar shirt paired with fleuro orange board shorts purchased in Phuket. Please do not think that I woke up one morning and thought that it would be a good idea to put this on. I was wearing a nice skirt to begin with, but life and laziness got in the way. While visiting some friends of my dads I became incredibly bored and decided to practise my acrobatics, and the only pants available to me were the swimmers that dad had packed. On the way home I fell asleep in the car, and woke up when we stopped at the shopping centre. Too lazy to change back into my skirt in the car, I decided to just wear the pants. Bad life choice. I can only hope that by this point my shirt had come untucked and I didn't come off as the new and extremely colour blind harry high-pants.
Our house fell victim to some kind of chocolate thief, resulting in a lot of easter eggs going missing. This didn't seem like such a good thing at the time, but I'm sure that my pilates and nutrition instructor will be pleased when class starts back.
Xx, Little Duck
While visiting my family for easter, I had quite a few mini adventures, but nowhere near as many as I usually have in Sydney, proving just how bad I am at city life.
I learned to cook Thai from my dads girlfriend (who is Thai if that clears anything up,) and seeing as neither my dad nor my brothers will eat spicy things, I agreed to eat all the hot versions of her dishes. I think that these particular chillis she used may have been on steroids, because I love spicy things, and have been known to eat spoonfuls of wasabi to win bets, but I have never eaten a dish that has made me sweat before. After the first mouthful my face was clammy and gross, and I went through a litre of water in a matter of minutes. Even she was sweating and gasping. If I ever have a cold, I know what to make to get me going again.
I went to the beach with my brothers, and seeing as I hadn't packed any swimmers, my 14 year old brother dressed me in his board shorts and t-shirt, and I wore one of his caps. With my attire, flat chest and hairless legs, I must have looked like the oddest boy ever, and had fun tying to walk like a male, but this just received laughter from the boys and disgusted groans from my mother, so I stuck to being an extremely effeminate and perhaps pre-pubescent boy.
Due to the internet black hole that is my fathers house, I think I aged about 50 years in one weekend, and played a ridiculous amount of solitaire. When I say solitaire, I don't just mean the typical kind,(which is called Klondike if you were at all curious,) I mean all 6 kinds that windows 8 offers. Sometimes my technological dependency disgusts me, but at least if I'm ever kidnapped and forced into an underground solitaire tournament, I may have some chance of survival.
Woolworths centro has witnessed my largest fashion faux pas in approximately the last 5 years, being unfortunate enough to view my nice button up stud collar shirt paired with fleuro orange board shorts purchased in Phuket. Please do not think that I woke up one morning and thought that it would be a good idea to put this on. I was wearing a nice skirt to begin with, but life and laziness got in the way. While visiting some friends of my dads I became incredibly bored and decided to practise my acrobatics, and the only pants available to me were the swimmers that dad had packed. On the way home I fell asleep in the car, and woke up when we stopped at the shopping centre. Too lazy to change back into my skirt in the car, I decided to just wear the pants. Bad life choice. I can only hope that by this point my shirt had come untucked and I didn't come off as the new and extremely colour blind harry high-pants.
Our house fell victim to some kind of chocolate thief, resulting in a lot of easter eggs going missing. This didn't seem like such a good thing at the time, but I'm sure that my pilates and nutrition instructor will be pleased when class starts back.
Xx, Little Duck
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Jet Set
So I know that I said I probably wouldn't write for a while, but I was at the airport today, and airports are either really exciting, or super doper boring. Luckily I was there on a reasonably exiting day. As I locked up my apartment and went to meet the taxi, I heard a popping noise, and realised that the zipper on my oldest and most comfortable pair of jeans had finally given out. With only a couple of minutes to spare, I had to rush back inside, dig through my suitcase to find my other pair of jeans, hop around to get them on properly, stick my boots on again and run up to leave my landlords easter present in their mailbox (I really hope it doesn't rain,) and finished just as the taxi pulled up.
Once I made the train, there was no room for me to stand in the door carriage, and so I made the stupid decision to try to get downstairs. My bag has a gimpy wheel, so its really hard to push along, and the bottom carriage was packed. Once I finally made an empty seat, I couldn't fit the bag between my seat and the seat in front. In the end a nice man lifted it up and over the arm rail for me. I think he was just sick of having to stand behind me as I fumbled around. On the way out, my determination was the only thing that saved me from repeating my traffic clogging stupidity, and after a 45 minute wait in the check in line, I finally managed to get rid of that stupid bag.
As I passed through security, I thought that I made the metal detector beep, and so I stood there looking suspicious as I waited for the security guard to call me back through. When he didn't, I asked if I had to go back through, and he told me to relax, it wasn't me. I feel like he then felt he should have asked me to go back through just because I was acting so weird. This was added to by the fact that I am always explosive tested at the airport, and when I wasn't this time, I slunk by with an odd smirk on my face asking if it was really true, and this must have made it look like I had something to hide. Let's just say that I am surprised made it on the plane without being crash tackled by the federal police.
I stopped off for a Boost Juice on my way to the gate, and I was greeted by a lady in the most colourful attire I had ever seen. I noticed her from the feet up, and so I began my impression with her pink and yellow peep toe heels adorned with bows, fastened over mismatched fluro socks. This was then topped with a multi-coloured flared flamenco skirt, and a shirt that I can't even explain. She also had a bandana over her pink and purple mermaid hair. I was then served my boost before her (when she had been there first,) and she suddenly went from being the happiest looking person had seen in a long time, to someone who may be capable of murder. I smiled as pacifyingly as I could and legged it to the gate.
I made it home without any further large mishaps (finding yourself asleep on the plane with your mouth open is normal right?) and have been reunited with my Just Dance, which was just as wonderful as I had dreamed, had my mums homemade lasagne, and am now watching cloudy with a chance of meatballs. It may not be super exciting, but it's home.
Xx, Little Duck
Once I made the train, there was no room for me to stand in the door carriage, and so I made the stupid decision to try to get downstairs. My bag has a gimpy wheel, so its really hard to push along, and the bottom carriage was packed. Once I finally made an empty seat, I couldn't fit the bag between my seat and the seat in front. In the end a nice man lifted it up and over the arm rail for me. I think he was just sick of having to stand behind me as I fumbled around. On the way out, my determination was the only thing that saved me from repeating my traffic clogging stupidity, and after a 45 minute wait in the check in line, I finally managed to get rid of that stupid bag.
As I passed through security, I thought that I made the metal detector beep, and so I stood there looking suspicious as I waited for the security guard to call me back through. When he didn't, I asked if I had to go back through, and he told me to relax, it wasn't me. I feel like he then felt he should have asked me to go back through just because I was acting so weird. This was added to by the fact that I am always explosive tested at the airport, and when I wasn't this time, I slunk by with an odd smirk on my face asking if it was really true, and this must have made it look like I had something to hide. Let's just say that I am surprised made it on the plane without being crash tackled by the federal police.
I stopped off for a Boost Juice on my way to the gate, and I was greeted by a lady in the most colourful attire I had ever seen. I noticed her from the feet up, and so I began my impression with her pink and yellow peep toe heels adorned with bows, fastened over mismatched fluro socks. This was then topped with a multi-coloured flared flamenco skirt, and a shirt that I can't even explain. She also had a bandana over her pink and purple mermaid hair. I was then served my boost before her (when she had been there first,) and she suddenly went from being the happiest looking person had seen in a long time, to someone who may be capable of murder. I smiled as pacifyingly as I could and legged it to the gate.
I made it home without any further large mishaps (finding yourself asleep on the plane with your mouth open is normal right?) and have been reunited with my Just Dance, which was just as wonderful as I had dreamed, had my mums homemade lasagne, and am now watching cloudy with a chance of meatballs. It may not be super exciting, but it's home.
Xx, Little Duck
Monday, 14 April 2014
Ice age idiot
Today I stayed in all day to just clean and pack. I mopped, wiped down all my surfaces, and halfway through I realised that I hadn't opened any windows, and my head was feeling a bit cloudy from all the product fumes. I decided to start airing the place out and packing before I either passed out or became forcefully addicted to the chemicals in spray and wipe.
By lunch time I was so bored and cold that I decided to take a shower to warm myself up, and while sitting under the warm water, I somehow ended up contemplating the water distribution of earth during the ice age. This contemplation went on a lot longer than I would care to admit, and covered a whole lot of stupid topics such as; where did the extra water come from, (duh, there is always the same amount of water. right?) how much would have to evaporate each day to allow it to keep snowing, and maybe the lack of water in the air is why wind in snowy areas is so crisp and dry. I'm not sure what's wrong with me sometimes.
After the shower, I piled on a mismatched assortment of clothes to try and stay warm, including tights, zebra bed socks, slipper boots, a beanie and a sloppy shirt. It's probably lucky that I stayed in all day and didn't see another human, because I can't say I looked very appealing, although I was pretty cosy.
I then went over my list of what I will be taking home for easter, looked back in my bag, and decided that I was well over my weight limit of 20kg, because of some of the odder items I have to take, such as my mums birthday present (no spoilers,) and my recently purchased Avengers bouncy ball. After revaluating very item and repacking a couple of times, I remembered that I had scales and could just weigh my bag. I then discovered that the bag only weighed 5.5kgs, and that I probably should have picked it up before going to the effort of repacking.
As you have probably guessed by the numerous references to my packing, I am going home for easter (which is lucky, because if I had to spend most of the holidays cooped up in the house by myself, I am afraid that I would find just how much weirder I could get than the ice age debate,) and because I will be back home, I'm not sure how often I will be writing. More than that, I'm not sure that anything exciting enough to report will happen, but I guess we'll see.
Heading back to her much smaller pond,
Xx, Little Duck
going away disclaimer
By lunch time I was so bored and cold that I decided to take a shower to warm myself up, and while sitting under the warm water, I somehow ended up contemplating the water distribution of earth during the ice age. This contemplation went on a lot longer than I would care to admit, and covered a whole lot of stupid topics such as; where did the extra water come from, (duh, there is always the same amount of water. right?) how much would have to evaporate each day to allow it to keep snowing, and maybe the lack of water in the air is why wind in snowy areas is so crisp and dry. I'm not sure what's wrong with me sometimes.
After the shower, I piled on a mismatched assortment of clothes to try and stay warm, including tights, zebra bed socks, slipper boots, a beanie and a sloppy shirt. It's probably lucky that I stayed in all day and didn't see another human, because I can't say I looked very appealing, although I was pretty cosy.
I then went over my list of what I will be taking home for easter, looked back in my bag, and decided that I was well over my weight limit of 20kg, because of some of the odder items I have to take, such as my mums birthday present (no spoilers,) and my recently purchased Avengers bouncy ball. After revaluating very item and repacking a couple of times, I remembered that I had scales and could just weigh my bag. I then discovered that the bag only weighed 5.5kgs, and that I probably should have picked it up before going to the effort of repacking.
As you have probably guessed by the numerous references to my packing, I am going home for easter (which is lucky, because if I had to spend most of the holidays cooped up in the house by myself, I am afraid that I would find just how much weirder I could get than the ice age debate,) and because I will be back home, I'm not sure how often I will be writing. More than that, I'm not sure that anything exciting enough to report will happen, but I guess we'll see.
Heading back to her much smaller pond,
Xx, Little Duck
going away disclaimer
Sunday, 13 April 2014
Bulk and bunnies
Today I had my first San churros experience. For anyone who doesn't know what this is, it's like a Spanish version of Max Brenner's, with the added delight of churros (essentially doughnuts in stick form.) It was amazing, but despite having finished eating about 5 hours ago, I am surprised that I am able to move yet. I shared a fondue plate with my friend, which included; nougat, brownies, pretzels, marshmallows, macarons, churros, strawberries and bananas (so I'm really glad we shared,) and a mint hot chocolate. When I ordered this hot chocolate, I'm quite sure they went out the back and just literally heated some chocolate and added a mint shot. The mug that came to the table was full of such a thick and rich chocolate substance, that I am sure there was no milk added whatsoever. It was however delicious, and I regret nothing, although I am not sure that my stomach agrees.
After this we went for a walk to Big W for my friend to stock up on some household products. Since her mum was with her, she ended up buying the best value washing products available, which meant 5 litres of fabric softener and 5 kilograms of washing powder. We didn't have a trolley at the time, and so I offered to carry the washing powder. I had also picked up an Avengers ball on our travels, as I needed one for my ballet strength exercises. While my friend and her mum looked for a new bath mat, I stood at the end of the aisle waiting for them. At this point, a very attractive Big W employee wearing pair of Easter Bunny ears walked by, and as I thought it was polite to be nice, I smiled. He gave me an odd look, and I couldn't figure out why. He hurried off, and I was left standing there with a 5L bottle of fabric softener at my feet, and a 5kg box of washing powder in my arms with an Avengers bouncy ball perched on top. I think I get it now.
I also came across a child named Hermione (who happened to be ridiculously beautiful and well dressed for a girl her age) as her father called her away from looking at gumboots with butterflies on them. I love Harry Potter, and I guess her parents do too.
It was a very good day, and I am now watching Dr Who while trying to convince my body to make room for some soup. It's not going well.
Xx, Little Duck
After this we went for a walk to Big W for my friend to stock up on some household products. Since her mum was with her, she ended up buying the best value washing products available, which meant 5 litres of fabric softener and 5 kilograms of washing powder. We didn't have a trolley at the time, and so I offered to carry the washing powder. I had also picked up an Avengers ball on our travels, as I needed one for my ballet strength exercises. While my friend and her mum looked for a new bath mat, I stood at the end of the aisle waiting for them. At this point, a very attractive Big W employee wearing pair of Easter Bunny ears walked by, and as I thought it was polite to be nice, I smiled. He gave me an odd look, and I couldn't figure out why. He hurried off, and I was left standing there with a 5L bottle of fabric softener at my feet, and a 5kg box of washing powder in my arms with an Avengers bouncy ball perched on top. I think I get it now.
I also came across a child named Hermione (who happened to be ridiculously beautiful and well dressed for a girl her age) as her father called her away from looking at gumboots with butterflies on them. I love Harry Potter, and I guess her parents do too.
It was a very good day, and I am now watching Dr Who while trying to convince my body to make room for some soup. It's not going well.
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 12 April 2014
Really fast food
As I drove to class on my last day of term yesterday, I was greeted at a red light by three people on exercise bikes in crazy glitter wigs and fairy wings. While making me giggle a little (and making me extremely scared of looking out my window in case they saw me watching,) I'm not sure that I would join the gym that they were promoting. My decision wasn't only based on these guys, but as I pass 2 branches of this gym every morning, and the second one is covered in ads for dominos cheaper Tuesday. I guess if you're looking for a controversial gym full of fashion forward people who are (literally) going nowhere, and are trying to start a new eating plan, then I think you should sign up there.
Last night I was luckily enough to be in the audience of the live filming of the Xfactor auditions, and while waiting in line to be seated, we decided to grab some dinner as it was going to finish late. We all took it in turns to go to the McDonalds next door and grab our food, (waiting hungrily in ridiculously long lines,) and being a Friday, I got my typical cheeseburger meal. Once we got back and started eating, the ushers told us to get ready, because we would be moving soon. We weren't sure if we were allowed food inside, and so in fear of losing our long anticipated and hard won meals, the next few minutes were full of frenzied chip and burger scarfing, and due to my habit of eating quite slowly, this became even less graceful than it sounds. I also had to struggle to fit in my ice cream and coke in this time, and so when I was finally able to put my rubbish in the bin, I literally strutted to the bin, filled with pride and numerous carcinogens that can be found in McDonalds food.
Today I ventured to a Westfield even larger than the one I have been familiarising myself with over the past few months, and on my search for a JB Hi-Fi, I came across one of five food courts (I kid you not,) in which an elderly couple were having a furious finger wagging fight in line for the Muffin Break. While he waited at their table, she began the exchange with quite a calm raised finger, but it escalated quickly. I never realised that the choce of muffin flavour was so important, but I really hope that they can get through this.
Did you know that they don't have garden sections in city Kmarts? I didn't expect the walk in garden or anything, but not even a section where you can buy a trowel or a gnome? There must be some elderly ladies living in this city with some very bare window boxes.
Today I finally had the falafel that I have been craving for about a week, and it exploded. It was quite large, and so I was saving the second half for later, but as I put it away, the pita that it was wrapped in suddenly became one hundred tiny pieces of pita, and I had no choice but to eat the whole delicious mess right there.
I am now off to watch the classic Dirty Dancing in the dark, by myself, because I am a wild party animal on a Saturday night.
Little Duck, out.
Last night I was luckily enough to be in the audience of the live filming of the Xfactor auditions, and while waiting in line to be seated, we decided to grab some dinner as it was going to finish late. We all took it in turns to go to the McDonalds next door and grab our food, (waiting hungrily in ridiculously long lines,) and being a Friday, I got my typical cheeseburger meal. Once we got back and started eating, the ushers told us to get ready, because we would be moving soon. We weren't sure if we were allowed food inside, and so in fear of losing our long anticipated and hard won meals, the next few minutes were full of frenzied chip and burger scarfing, and due to my habit of eating quite slowly, this became even less graceful than it sounds. I also had to struggle to fit in my ice cream and coke in this time, and so when I was finally able to put my rubbish in the bin, I literally strutted to the bin, filled with pride and numerous carcinogens that can be found in McDonalds food.
Today I ventured to a Westfield even larger than the one I have been familiarising myself with over the past few months, and on my search for a JB Hi-Fi, I came across one of five food courts (I kid you not,) in which an elderly couple were having a furious finger wagging fight in line for the Muffin Break. While he waited at their table, she began the exchange with quite a calm raised finger, but it escalated quickly. I never realised that the choce of muffin flavour was so important, but I really hope that they can get through this.
Did you know that they don't have garden sections in city Kmarts? I didn't expect the walk in garden or anything, but not even a section where you can buy a trowel or a gnome? There must be some elderly ladies living in this city with some very bare window boxes.
Today I finally had the falafel that I have been craving for about a week, and it exploded. It was quite large, and so I was saving the second half for later, but as I put it away, the pita that it was wrapped in suddenly became one hundred tiny pieces of pita, and I had no choice but to eat the whole delicious mess right there.
I am now off to watch the classic Dirty Dancing in the dark, by myself, because I am a wild party animal on a Saturday night.
Little Duck, out.
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
Spiders and stereotyping
Last night I made hot cross buns, along with a giant mess. These were chocolate chip hot cross buns, and so by the time I was finished, there was dough, cocoa and melted chocolate all over the place. The amount of dishes and utensils needed for these baked delights is insane, but the thing that I found most ridiculous was the instruction to lightly flour the bench before turning the dough out to knead it. Recipe writer, have you ever tried lightly flouring a bench? There is nothing light about it. The adjective should reflect the difficulty of the action, or the effort required, not lull you into a false sense of security. Not only do you create small white puffs when you put your hand in the bag to get the flour out, but it scatters everywhere when it hits the bench top, and don't even get me started on the cleaning. It goes everywhere, and I didn't particularly enjoy pulling my kitchen apart to wipe away traces of unwanted, useless white powder. If the amount of scrubbing it takes to remove wet flour is light, then I'm a monkeys uncle. You should not have to be Olympic athlete strong to remove that stuff.
As I carried my finished products to the car this morning, I was coaching myself through not dropping the glass and ceramic container the buns were in, and running through al the things I had to remember to do during the day. I didn't realise I was doing this under my breath, until I saw Mr Emphysema on his front veranda, staring at me as I opened the car. I smiled an awkward smile, and thought of offering him a bun, but thought this might make things worse. Maybe I should bake him one of those Greek Easter breads to keep him from telling everyone how crazy I am, but then I'd probably offend him even more, because, lets face it, it would be nothing like what he was used to.
Throughout the day, I came to realise just how much city kids hate spiders. I know it's not just them, and lots of people are afraid of arachnid species. That's totally fine. I just noticed that 99% of people I know who are afraid of spiders, grew up in the city. And it's not just spiders, none of them are too keen on other bugs either. I feel like growing up on a farm, or a property of any kind, you kind of have to suck it up or go insane, but apparently, it's normal to halt a dance class while a majority of students (and a lot of the time, the teacher too, ) crowd into a corner of the room until the offending creepy crawly has been safely disposed of. It's crazy.
I became the definition of the word nonja today in my contemporary class, failing at what the teacher calls a "ninja" roll by looking ridiculously awkward, bruising myself in multiple places and struggling to get up from the ground. Real ninjas should thank me, it's people like me that make you look so impressive.
Right now I am alternating between struggling to stay awake, and crawling around on the floor in preparation for tomorrow's acting class, in which I have to imitate a particular wild animal (which for the purposes of the exercise is a secret, so I can't tell you.) I'm struggling slightly, so I think I'm going to say that I'm a baby one of these animals in an attempt to be a little more realistic regarding size, vocal range and attitude. Let's just say that animal Thursday has taken on a whole new meaning, and should be very interesting!!
Little Duck, out
As I carried my finished products to the car this morning, I was coaching myself through not dropping the glass and ceramic container the buns were in, and running through al the things I had to remember to do during the day. I didn't realise I was doing this under my breath, until I saw Mr Emphysema on his front veranda, staring at me as I opened the car. I smiled an awkward smile, and thought of offering him a bun, but thought this might make things worse. Maybe I should bake him one of those Greek Easter breads to keep him from telling everyone how crazy I am, but then I'd probably offend him even more, because, lets face it, it would be nothing like what he was used to.
Throughout the day, I came to realise just how much city kids hate spiders. I know it's not just them, and lots of people are afraid of arachnid species. That's totally fine. I just noticed that 99% of people I know who are afraid of spiders, grew up in the city. And it's not just spiders, none of them are too keen on other bugs either. I feel like growing up on a farm, or a property of any kind, you kind of have to suck it up or go insane, but apparently, it's normal to halt a dance class while a majority of students (and a lot of the time, the teacher too, ) crowd into a corner of the room until the offending creepy crawly has been safely disposed of. It's crazy.
I became the definition of the word nonja today in my contemporary class, failing at what the teacher calls a "ninja" roll by looking ridiculously awkward, bruising myself in multiple places and struggling to get up from the ground. Real ninjas should thank me, it's people like me that make you look so impressive.
Right now I am alternating between struggling to stay awake, and crawling around on the floor in preparation for tomorrow's acting class, in which I have to imitate a particular wild animal (which for the purposes of the exercise is a secret, so I can't tell you.) I'm struggling slightly, so I think I'm going to say that I'm a baby one of these animals in an attempt to be a little more realistic regarding size, vocal range and attitude. Let's just say that animal Thursday has taken on a whole new meaning, and should be very interesting!!
Little Duck, out
Monday, 7 April 2014
Caution; caramel and fatigue ahead
The one thing I like about getting up on Monday morning, is that I am usually well rested and ready to go for another week. Let's just say that I did not enjoy getting up this morning. I rolled out of bed and had trouble walking, and knew from that moment that it was going to be a tough one; thank goodness this is the last week of class.
I muddled my way through lyrical and pilates by pulling faces that I am glad I never had to look at, although the poor teachers and my classmates probably didn't enjoy them very much. Acro was quite interesting as well, although luckily my arms were nowhere near as sore as my legs. My cartwheels were actually quite decent, but I think I need to give myself an acro intensive over the holidays, otherwise I may be kicked out for being hopeless. I do admit that as soon as I get upside down, I lose all control of my body and sense of direction, but I am trying. (Trying not to die does count right?)
This afternoon I received a call from a man who was responding to my ad in the paper. After I informed him that I didn't have an ad in the paper there was an awkward silence, followed by "ok...um wrong number?.." and the dial tone as he hung up. He seemed a little more embarrassed than someone who has simply called the wrong number, and this got me wondering, what kind of ad was he responding to? Knowing my luck, there is some adult entertainer out there with a number one digit different from mine. Maybe I should get myself a stripper name so that I can play along next time, but I have a feeling my giggles might give it away.
Tonight I did some baking, and discovered the issues of a raised stove and a short stature. My caramel needed constant stirring for 10 minutes, and this saw me perched precariously on a swivel chair so that I could both reach and see the caramel. Let me just say that almost stacking it while stirring boiling sugar syrup is not the safest thing you can do. Luckily I have managed to escape any serious burns, and the result seemed to taste ok, so hopefully the zany recipe it was added to works out just as well.
Right now I am falling asleep on my keyboard, and seriously asking myself if 8:30 is an acceptable time to go to bed. Technically it's 9:30 in the newly ended daylight saving time, so it is ok right? Right?
Xx, Little Duck
I muddled my way through lyrical and pilates by pulling faces that I am glad I never had to look at, although the poor teachers and my classmates probably didn't enjoy them very much. Acro was quite interesting as well, although luckily my arms were nowhere near as sore as my legs. My cartwheels were actually quite decent, but I think I need to give myself an acro intensive over the holidays, otherwise I may be kicked out for being hopeless. I do admit that as soon as I get upside down, I lose all control of my body and sense of direction, but I am trying. (Trying not to die does count right?)
This afternoon I received a call from a man who was responding to my ad in the paper. After I informed him that I didn't have an ad in the paper there was an awkward silence, followed by "ok...um wrong number?.." and the dial tone as he hung up. He seemed a little more embarrassed than someone who has simply called the wrong number, and this got me wondering, what kind of ad was he responding to? Knowing my luck, there is some adult entertainer out there with a number one digit different from mine. Maybe I should get myself a stripper name so that I can play along next time, but I have a feeling my giggles might give it away.
Tonight I did some baking, and discovered the issues of a raised stove and a short stature. My caramel needed constant stirring for 10 minutes, and this saw me perched precariously on a swivel chair so that I could both reach and see the caramel. Let me just say that almost stacking it while stirring boiling sugar syrup is not the safest thing you can do. Luckily I have managed to escape any serious burns, and the result seemed to taste ok, so hopefully the zany recipe it was added to works out just as well.
Right now I am falling asleep on my keyboard, and seriously asking myself if 8:30 is an acceptable time to go to bed. Technically it's 9:30 in the newly ended daylight saving time, so it is ok right? Right?
Xx, Little Duck
Saturday, 5 April 2014
Initiation of fire
I have now encountered the worlds friendliest service station cashier. He was lovely, and also very good at making things weird. I was innocently buying myself a cookies and cream kit kat while my friend waited to the side for me. As I placed the chocolate on the counter, the guy leans forward and whispers "somebody is crazy about you..." I was quite confused, and so he motioned with his head to my friend and repeated himself quite a bit louder. I just smiled politely (because I had no idea what to do,) and went to hand over the money. He must have taken my silence as abashed happiness or something, because he then announced loudly to the whole shop, "somebody loves her very much!" My friend looked up from his phone to see what was happening, just as the guy went on; "he's standing right behind her!" I hastily took my change, again smiling (with slightly glazed eyes from trying not to die laughing) and ran from the shop to the car, where my friend and I collapsed. I'm not sure what have him that particular impression of us, but had I stayed any longer, I think he would announced our engagement and offered to be the minister.
Yesterday I got to pretend to be an African tribeswoman in a really cool dance, which was a lot of fun, and resulted in a lot of pain. My legs aren't particularly thankful for the experience, but that dance is as close as I will ever get to being in the Lion King, so I'm glad for the chance. My oddly angled limbs didn't need to try to be graceful for once, and I must say, I enjoyed that a lot.
Today I had a job trial at a childrens jungle-gym place. I felt the whole time that the universe was trying to tell me it wasn't the job for me (or that I wasn't the one for the job!) With 14 kids parties throughout the day, and me never having worked in hospitality before, I knew it was going to be interesting. The people who ran the place thought that I knew how to make coffee (which I definitely do not,) but I went along with it and faked my heart out, luckily without breaking the machine. I apologise to all the people who received a latte despite having ordered a cappuccino, due to my inability to add foam to the milk. At least it was still technically a coffee, which for me is a miracle. About 20 minutes into the shift I wore a raspberry slushie all down my front and over my shoes thanks to an overzealous toddler reaching across the counter. I then acquainted myself with the cleaning room and made friends with the mop. The register also wasn't my friend, totalling an $8 purchase to $15,000, which even my supervisor couldn't explain.
All in all, it was a character building experience (mostly for the supervisors,) and I feel like it was the first time in my life when it wasn't the children that were my downfall. Better than an uneventful Saturday though!
After this interesting morning, I stopped off at a woolworths and almost fell asleep as I aimlessly wandered the aisles. I had a nice sleep when I got home, and am feeling ok again, but I do need chocolate. I'll make sure I go somewhere else this time though!
Xx, Little Duck
Yesterday I got to pretend to be an African tribeswoman in a really cool dance, which was a lot of fun, and resulted in a lot of pain. My legs aren't particularly thankful for the experience, but that dance is as close as I will ever get to being in the Lion King, so I'm glad for the chance. My oddly angled limbs didn't need to try to be graceful for once, and I must say, I enjoyed that a lot.
Today I had a job trial at a childrens jungle-gym place. I felt the whole time that the universe was trying to tell me it wasn't the job for me (or that I wasn't the one for the job!) With 14 kids parties throughout the day, and me never having worked in hospitality before, I knew it was going to be interesting. The people who ran the place thought that I knew how to make coffee (which I definitely do not,) but I went along with it and faked my heart out, luckily without breaking the machine. I apologise to all the people who received a latte despite having ordered a cappuccino, due to my inability to add foam to the milk. At least it was still technically a coffee, which for me is a miracle. About 20 minutes into the shift I wore a raspberry slushie all down my front and over my shoes thanks to an overzealous toddler reaching across the counter. I then acquainted myself with the cleaning room and made friends with the mop. The register also wasn't my friend, totalling an $8 purchase to $15,000, which even my supervisor couldn't explain.
All in all, it was a character building experience (mostly for the supervisors,) and I feel like it was the first time in my life when it wasn't the children that were my downfall. Better than an uneventful Saturday though!
After this interesting morning, I stopped off at a woolworths and almost fell asleep as I aimlessly wandered the aisles. I had a nice sleep when I got home, and am feeling ok again, but I do need chocolate. I'll make sure I go somewhere else this time though!
Xx, Little Duck
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Egg-splosive morning
Yesterday I exploded an egg. My saucepan was still full of tomato soup in the fridge, and so I had to improvise ways to get my egg cooked for lunch. I started out by trying to boil it in my frying pan, but when I realised I didn't have a billion years to wait, I decided to try something else. After shelling it, I placed it in the microwave for 20 seconds. No matter how soft boiled it was before this, 20 seconds was definitely too much. A loud bang alerted me to the failure of my experiment, and I was left to wipe out my microwave and scrape the tattered remains of the egg into a container for an extremely well cooked and textured snack.
My hip hop class was a lesson on daggy 90s grooves that were so much fun. Despite not being able to answer the teacher's questions on influential personas of the time and where the moves came from (having only just been born,) was able to have a great time. As we progressed through the different dance style of this era, I became more and more uncoordinated, but was able to keep smiling, and the best part was the cheesy but oh so recognisable music. Sadly I couldn't be quite daggy enough to make it look cool, but since when have 90s kids ever looked cool?
In latin we continued to explore jive, and I had a turn at being both the male and female partner. Lets just say that I make a terribly effeminate male, and a graceless female. It was a lot of fun though, and when I was a female, we learnt a floor trick. Being paired with another small girl, this led to us altering the choreography to make it a little more achievable, and resulted in me rolling awkwardly to the floor, butt scooting through my partners legs, an heaving myself back to standing through my super un-flexy back. We definitely weren't the most impressive couple, but I don't think anyone had more enthusiasm than us.
After class I was lucky enough to go and see an amazingly funny musical called The Drowsy Chaperone, and I am unashamed to say that I almost wet my pants watching it. Knowing one of the cast members only made it funnier, and the director (who also played the narrator,) is an absolute genius. I would tell you to go and see it, but the season is already sold out. Too bad for you!
Today I got to try partner tricking in contemporary, giving me the chance to squeal loudly, and be caught in situations that my lack of coordination - when upside down or horizontal - would usually lead to me kissing the floor. It was awesome. I discovered that I am definitely better at being thrown than doing the throwing. My small arm muscles don't really lend themselves to lifting me off the ground in push ups, let alone lifting someone else with power.
Right now, I am having a great time annoying my neighbours by pretending to be African, and singing the opening of The Circle Of Life over and over again. I love the Lion King. I just wish I knew what they were actually saying.
Xx, Little Duck
My hip hop class was a lesson on daggy 90s grooves that were so much fun. Despite not being able to answer the teacher's questions on influential personas of the time and where the moves came from (having only just been born,) was able to have a great time. As we progressed through the different dance style of this era, I became more and more uncoordinated, but was able to keep smiling, and the best part was the cheesy but oh so recognisable music. Sadly I couldn't be quite daggy enough to make it look cool, but since when have 90s kids ever looked cool?
In latin we continued to explore jive, and I had a turn at being both the male and female partner. Lets just say that I make a terribly effeminate male, and a graceless female. It was a lot of fun though, and when I was a female, we learnt a floor trick. Being paired with another small girl, this led to us altering the choreography to make it a little more achievable, and resulted in me rolling awkwardly to the floor, butt scooting through my partners legs, an heaving myself back to standing through my super un-flexy back. We definitely weren't the most impressive couple, but I don't think anyone had more enthusiasm than us.
After class I was lucky enough to go and see an amazingly funny musical called The Drowsy Chaperone, and I am unashamed to say that I almost wet my pants watching it. Knowing one of the cast members only made it funnier, and the director (who also played the narrator,) is an absolute genius. I would tell you to go and see it, but the season is already sold out. Too bad for you!
Today I got to try partner tricking in contemporary, giving me the chance to squeal loudly, and be caught in situations that my lack of coordination - when upside down or horizontal - would usually lead to me kissing the floor. It was awesome. I discovered that I am definitely better at being thrown than doing the throwing. My small arm muscles don't really lend themselves to lifting me off the ground in push ups, let alone lifting someone else with power.
Right now, I am having a great time annoying my neighbours by pretending to be African, and singing the opening of The Circle Of Life over and over again. I love the Lion King. I just wish I knew what they were actually saying.
Xx, Little Duck
Monday, 31 March 2014
Food can kill
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.
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.
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
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