Come they told me, pa ra pa pum pum

Ah Christmas time. A special time for all and a confusing one for some.

Tell me exactly what is the point of a salad spinner? And does one ask for one on Santa’s wish list? 

I know I didn’t ask this year but Santa must have mixed his lists with someone else and delivered a beautiful salad spinner for me this year.

Now I remember being told that I was not to expect any presents, maybe chocolates, but no presents.

I was mighty fine with that but instead I unwrapped a salad spinner, and the moment my mum left the room, I turned to dad and said, “huh?”

And it was followed by “don’t ask me, I have no idea!”

All good… at least Christmas lunch was friggin fantastic.

We had course after course of an Italian feast. I love it! For me, it beats having a turkey and some potatoes. I know many of you love that. You can have it. I want my antipasto of Italians meats and cheeses, lasagne, creamed prawns, beans in vinegar, finished off with Italian small desserts and finale, Tiramisu. Bring it!!

We had an addition to Christmas lunch this year, my boy, who enjoyed himself immensely but that could have been the fact my parents were topping his drink throughout the entire day. I think he may or may not have had five wines … I did see them sneak in a few top offs. ;-)

It’s all part of Christmas. Well, my kind of Christmas where all the people I want in the world (except for Ryan Gosling who wasn’t there this year so that was a little bit of a downer), in one room, having fun, eating, and drinking. Perfect.

Plus it wouldn’t be Christmas without my mum getting me an odd/questionable present. Seriously, a salad spinner?!!

All in all, a good Christmas had by all.  

Breathe, just breathe!

Christmas shopping.

There is nothing worse than attempting to buy last minute gifts for family on Christmas Eve but tomorrow I will be forced to do it.

My mother just informed me that she wanted everyone to buy something small for Christmas Day. This is after years of saying, don’t get anything, I just want my family all together. WTF!!!!

We don’t do presents and now I have to buy presents for my family.

Tomorrow I will brave the crowds by putting on my mp3 player, listening to my music and pretending that there is no one is in the shops but me. 

It can be done, I just need to channel my inner calm self.

Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean.

Love Actually = Christmas chick flick!

You can’t have Christmas without watching the movie, Love Actually.

I can hear the groans of men who are missing a romantic bone in their bodies, and some women rolling their eyes at the possibility of something greater than chocolate or a shoe sale... the feeling you get after watching a chick flick.

It's a lovely glow.

That’s what I feel and I am not even a romantic. Maybe a closest romantic at heart but sshhh don’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want that bit of information getting out there.

A romantic chick flick is just what it is. 

It doesn’t pretend to be anything else than one man, looking for one woman.

And it's usually the same kind of scenario:

The man is a douche bag for most of the film before realising his douchness' has cost him his leading lady. The audience falls in love with the leading man as they watch him get his shit together, and eventually realising his love for his leading lady, and running in the rain to tell her he can’t live without her.

See, it’s no different from a movie with Stallone/Willis/Thomas James / or another big armed whatever star that is famous for the next 15 minutes, who is hiding a secret/broken heart/ingrown toe nail, while trying to save the day at the end of the movie.

See, exactly the same!

At least my movies I get to see Ryan Gosling in a wet shirt!

Christmas and what means to me, you, to everyone

For me, Christmas Day is very simple. I wish my family and loved ones a merry Christmas, hug them, and then spend the time unwrapping, drinking some good wine and eating my mother’s delicious food.  

There isn’t any fanfare. 

Any religious connections. 

There isn’t any pressure to do anything you don’t want to do. 

It is simply a day to hang out with family and loved ones, talk, relax and enjoy each other’s company.

To you, Christmas Day may mean something completely different. It might just be another day. Or a day you want to spend the time on your own. Or a day to remain in solitude and reflect on what has happened, what is happening and what will happen tomorrow. It is a different way to celebrate Christmas Day.

To everyone (or some, or all), Christmas Day means a celebration of religious beliefs, of remembering those you love and those you’ve lost, or simply a day to spend giving back to others, those who are less fortunate than you or me.

For me, I believe Christmas is all these things.

And I choose to spend the day surrounded by my family and loved ones because they are my energy. They are the people who spur me on to do more, to reach further, to want more in my life.

On my Christmas Day I will be spending the day watching my 18-month old niece unwrap her presents, while we sit around chatting, and drinking some good wine, while the smell of my mother’s delicious Italian feasts oozes through our family house.

Bring on the elastic pants!!

Merry Christmas and participate in work Christmas games or else!

It’s actually going to be mandatory to participate in games at our work Christmas party.

Where did Santa go?

Where did the meaning of Christmas go?

Where is it stated that it is mandatory to participate in stupid arse games at work Christmas parties?

NO WHERE!!!

Now leave me the hell alone so I can enjoy my wine and one day of the year where I am not nagged or whinged up at by anyone.

Noooooo! Instead there will be parcel parcel, awards and whatever group activity they can think of!

Why? Why I ask?

Why should I participate on the day I want to relax and not do anything that requires using my brain?

And if you don’t participate, then what are you? Scrooge? Anti-Christmassee? It’s a word!

I am happy to go along but when I have to pay for my own Christmas lunch and then have to be told that I have to participate in games then I say… bugger off!

I don’t want to. I don’t have to. And na ah!

Tomorrow is the D-Day. I have to pretty myself up and be all I LOVE CHRISTMAS and Jingle Jingle but if anyone, and I mean anyone, makes me wear a hat and guess who the celebrity is, I will chug my Sangria and run to the nearest pub.

I love Christmas. I do. It’s just that I don’t like being told what to do (one of my positive attributes) when we are supposed to be celebrating a very long hard year at work and toast it all away.

Hopefully my bosses surprise me by leaving me alone to drink my Sangria!

UPDATE

My Christmas Day lunch ended up being quite nice. Only one game, parcel parcel. And I won. A doll with chocolate inside. And the food was lovely. There was no musical chairs or any stupid games. It was lovely.

I was able to relax and enjoy the day.

Oh I rocked it! I rocked it with the Foo Fighters in Radelaide!!

I rocked it so hard that after standing upright for six hours at Adelaide Oval, I walked away nursing a sore back. I rocked; i rocked it like a rocking chair!

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I karaoked my arse off with my boy.

Pretty cool!!

First, a crazy band from god knows where played at the beginning of the festivities … I saw crazy cause the lead singer had hair all over his body and screamed (instead of sang) all the songs. The bad part was that his band was actually good and could sing and he was ruining it.

Tenacious D jumped on stage after that and surprisingly they were pretty good. I am not a fan of Jack Black but the man can hold a note. And the songs weren’t too bad either.

The rest of the night, I spent singing my lungs out and rocking it while I watched Foo Fighters belt out the classics.

Foo Fighters was my first rock concert.

Prior to them, I went to Canberra’s Stonefest and loved hanging out with mates while wearing a blue condom (otherwise known as a plastic poncho) for protection from the rain.

Before that it was London’s Hyde Park, where I watched Powderfinger and other international bands rock it while having a Pom’s butt crack in my face. Bloody cow. Nearly had a fight with her… she didn’t even know who Powderfinger was!

Before that (and in my teens) it was Alanis Morissette and then ......

                                                      

                                                      Craig David.

Now don’t judge (and you know who I am talking to!!)

I love Craig David. Everyone should love Craig David. How could you not love him. The man is smooth. Barry White smooth.

And since my introduction to rock concerts, I am now secretly searching which bands are coming to Australia. I have a taste for rock now … Florence and the Machine; Lenny Kravitz; Foster the People; Michael Bolton?

But my heart belongs to the Foos.

I heart the Foo Fighters, yesterday, today and tomorrow.

       

New Year’s Eve is overrated… the day and the movie

It’s that time of year again where the evitable question comes up…

What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?

Again, I say…

I DON’T KNOW!!!

Stop asking me!

It is the most overrated night. You spend the night trying to push through the crowds of teenagers drunk off their arses on passion pop (losers) while squinting to get a glimpse of the fireworks and then spend the next five hours in a queue waiting for a taxi, along with the other thousands of people with the same idea.

I don’t want to do nothing but I want to do something that doesn’t require any effort … on my part.

So what to do? What to do?

I could organise a dinner with the boy, followed by a moonlight toast in a quiet spot, no crowds, no noise, no fireworks.

I could organise a barbecue (using my new bbq) with the boy and all my friends and celebrate that way… and then have to pre and post clean every inch of my place.  

I could do nothing and pretend nothing happened and wake up the next day, all oblivious and sedated.

What to do? What to do?

P.S The movie was good but where was Ryan Gosling! Where? Where was he! And with no shirt on please.

Shazza? Tazza? Shoot me now!

Sitting at Bangkok airport waiting for my flight back to Australia, my worst flight nightmare came walking in.

Two girls wandered in wearing inappropriately tight (tiger print) dresses that didn’t cover enough, with their fake Louis Vuitton carry bags and fake brown tans, and talking loudly to one another … this was not the worst part.

One was named, Shazza, the other Tazza.

I kid you not! They actually called each other that.

I scanned the waiting room and saw everyone give a collectively sigh and hoped and prayed that these two idiots would not sitting next to them. I even hoped I would be sitting next to babies just to avoid sitting next to the bogans.

How these women were given passports and able to represent our country overseas makes me shudder. Bad Australian Government, Bad Australian Government.

They were rude to everyone around them, including a Muslim family, and talked about meat and boys (I am not elaborately), and then proceeded to talk rudely about everyone people in the room.

Then they locked on to two Indigenous men and asked about their “cutar” … I think they meant guitar… that they were carrying. They too were unimpressed.

I had to put my head down and my hand over my mouth to stop the laughter from escaping my mouth and prevent them from seeing my eyes roll permanently to the back of my head.

At least I wasn’t the only one worried about sitting next to the bogans. I saw two people look at me and asked where I was sitting and the proximity to those bogans… I managed to find out that I was no where near… but they were. Poor bastards.

As everyone walked on to the plane (the girls a few rows ahead), one woman behind me muttered that she would have to drink as soon as she gets on to get through the eight hours of the mindless chatter from the bogans.

I ended up finding my seat directly across from two infants but I breathed a sigh of relief as I noticed the bogans were safely sitting in another section from me. There is a god!

And while I spent the rest of my flight trying to avoid chatting to the man next to me who was clearly flirting with me and kept talking, despite me putting on earphones and an eye mask. Get a clue!

Ah flying… you need it to get to places but if I could avoid it, I would…  

Farewell, So Long, ah what’s the word for goodbye in Lao???

I know Sabadee is welcome/hello or maybe thank you in Lao but that's about all... damn it!

After farewelling Ceci, Bec and I made our way to Bangkok where we shopped till we dropped, and shopped some more.

We were primped, primed and perfected to an inch of our lives. We had massages, manicures, pedicures, head massages, facials, and my hair was dyed. The end result, I was an L’Oreal commercial.

MBK is my new home. Home to thousands and thousands of shops, filled with shiny goodness and all things cheap. I am so happy.

After Bec left that morning for Dublin, I decided to spend the rest of my day until my flight, shopping till my heart’s content. I managed to score three bags, one wallet, five pairs of earrings, one pearl ring, one pair of shoes, and two necklaces.

Not too bad. Not too bad at all.

So as I boarded my plane back to Australia, i pried my hands from the airplane doors and sat my booty on the seat and remembered how fantastic my trip to Laos was.

I love holiday me.

She has a spring in her step, she is more relaxed, happy to do whatever and go with the flow.

Holiday me is fun.

Anyway Laos is certainly an unexpectedly beautiful country.  And I wouldn’t hesitate to visit again. The people are so friendly and accommodating, the food is delicious, and the landscape is untouched and beautiful.

Sabadee 

Can you tell me how many Prime Minister's have been elected in Australia?

I have no bloody idea!

Ceci asked Bec and I to come into one of her English speaking classes so that her students could participant in conversation English… two Australians.

Believe me, my accent is pretty thick and I talk fast. 

So I was expecting some simple questions from a room filled with Lao students, however these Lao students had other ideas.

They asked:

How many Prime Minister’s Australia had? (I knew this was coming)

Who is the most famous actor in Australia?

What is our national dish?

How many joeys can Kangaroos have over a lifetime?

Where is Uluru?

What is the significance of Uluru?

What is Uluru?

What is our national sport?

It keeps going.

Bec and I had to actually Google how many the question about Australian Prime Ministers before the class so we wouldn’t look stupid and get it wrong. I thought 20, our friend, Seamus thought it was 45 but in fact its 32 Prime Minister’s (or 27 different elected PM’s). History lesson for you there.

The kangaroo question threw me. I have no idea how many babies they can have over a lifetime.

One student, Mr Sit, asked so many questions about Australia, like where is the best place to study English, is there a lot of business schools, how long is a flight to Australia from Laos, and how much? I suspect he was sussing us out to immigrate to Australia. Me thinks!

Mr Sit liked us so much he actually took us out for dinner after class. Where he proceeded to ask more questions about Australia and buy us a yard glass of Beer Lao! 

Good night had by all!

Mopeds and I don’t mix

I told Ceci not to hire a moped.

I told Ceci on a number of occasions before I left for Laos not to hire a moped.

And what did she do?

She bloody well hired one for me to ride around through Vientiane and I managed to stay upright and only screaming into the wind for nearly a week before slipping off.

And the worst part is I didn’t fall when a car hit me, or when a car jumped out at me…

I fell off the moped on a driveway. On a friggin driveway, doing 20 kilometres. So basically the speech of a casual walk!

I am not a real bikie at all.

I blame gravel and my ability to stay on a bike and distinguish the difference between accelerator and brake.

Not too worry, Bec bandaged me up and we were off to the pool for a swim (paddle for me) and sunbaking in the hot sun.  

My knee is a little worse for wear and my modelling days are now over… although it never really began but hey I needed a job to fall back on and knee modelling was it. Damn it!

Time flies when you’re sitting on your arse

I spent three days in Luang Prabang eating, drinking, sunbaking (not intentional), shopping, and cycling around the town all day long.

I am also managed to take a cooking class while I was and cooked traditional Lao food and drinking Beer Lao. 

I now have a long affair with sticky rice. There is nothing like it. I cooked pork/chicken lab (a Thai salad) and chicken in coconut and chilli sauce. D.E.L.I.C.I.O.U.S!

Luang Prabang is stunning. I would come back. It just so beautiful, cheap (all the markets), food is incredible and Thong Bay Bungalow where we stayed at, completed it.

No complaints… ok one thing, the bed. It was incredible hard that I pulled my neck muscles and couldn’t turn my neck for a few days , plus I buggered up my back before I left, and cut my finger while cooking.

So the consensus… I shouldn’t be allowed outside with the real people. I am a bloody mess!

Back to Vientiane for me!

Christmas presents, friend or foe?

The question of gift giving has come up a number of times in recent days and it’s has me thinking.

The whole idea behind gift giving on Christmas Day is really not based on any scientific or religious significance but a simple way of gouging parents to buy something expensive and plastic which will simply be collecting dust in back of the closest three months later.

I love Christmas.

I love the lights, the spirit and the fact I have can booze in the middle of the day (or early morning) without any judgement.

I am 30 years old. My family haven’t done gift giving in many, many years after the debacle of 2005 where I was given Kath and Kim DVDs (I don’t watch the show) water bed conditioner, a roll of lollies, and fifty bucks. Awesome!!

After that incident, gift giving came to an immediate halt.

I have a great paying and secured job (for now) and it affords me the luxury of buying things that I want. I don’t have to wait entire year to get something that I want, I can wander out to the shopping centres and the online world, and buy whatever I want.

So is Christmas gift giving still relevant after you turn 30 and don’t have any children? I have an 18 month niece and will gladly buy her something but do I need to get anything?

I am still in the undecided box of the survey.

The subject came up during a conversation with my boyfriend and with colleagues today at work – one was unfavourable towards gift giving and had really good reasons, the other was for and had good reasons too.

I shouldn’t have to have a day to give a gift when I can give you something anytime of the year

It’s not about a present but giving something to someone you love

That was two reasons I heard, and two very good ones.

Meh! I don’t know.

I am staying in the undecided box for a little while longer. 

Luang Prabang how I love thee

What can I say, I love this place. Thongbay Bungalows is heaven.

This place is stunning and I get to spend four days sitting on cushions being revered as a queen. Ok maybe I am overstating it but this place is beautiful. I have never stayed in a bungalow before and thought it would be a little worse for wear but I take that back.

The bungalows are surrounded by a tropical garden and private terraces, scattered amongst trees, ponds and the Nam Khan River.

   

I spent my first day lying on my stomach being bruised and pummelled by a little Lao man. I asked for a traditional Lao massage and I swear there were tears in my eyes from the amount of pain being caused by my masseur.  Iron fist!

The night markets in Lao are fantastic, rows and rows of stalls, filled with beautiful, colourful, shiny things. From jewellery and lights, to traditional Lao skirts and toys, it was heaven. I managed to nab two Lao skirts, three heart shaped pin cushions, one scarf (adding to my collection of a million scarves), one necklace (apparently I am the Imelda Marcus of jewels) and one necklace for a present.

Not too bad for one hour in the markets.

This was followed the next day by climbing on top of an elephant before being dunked under water in the Mekong River. Yep I was dunked under water by my cheeky elephant. My Mahout (elephant handler) said something to my elephant and then the cheeky bugger dropped fast into the water and then started dancing under water … so I was swaying side to side without any harness, trying not to fall off.

Sweet Jesus I thought I was going to fall off onto my arse. I was relying purely on my wonder woman thighs and my palms on the elephant’s head to hold me.

Ceci and Bec had it worse than me. Ceci’s Mahout convinced her to turn around (backwards) to wash her elephant back and then he signalled to the elephant and it threw her off into river. Bec’s Mahout was even worse. He unfortunately grabbed her breasts (to balance himself, of course) and then when they got into the water, her elephant dunked her completely under water. All of her.

The best part though, I rode an elephant, washed it and scrubbed it. It was such a fantastic experience. Nothing like it!

I have to say it’s not a bad way to spend your 30^th birthday, riding an elephant.