Wednesday, January 28, 2004

This is one of those stories that starts with “ A friend of mine met this girl in a bar”, and I suspect that maybe it wont translate all that well over this medium, but in the spirit of the Australian Open I’ll give it a go anyway. To get the best out of this story, the bit in inverted commas must be pronounced with a thick Russian Accent. Remember that, have a practice now (eg “You are very unactractive man, Vik-tor” or “Stolichnya” or, um, “Peristroika”) Ok, ready?*

So, a friend of mine met this girl in a bar.

This was during last years Australian Open, and when talk turned to all things tennis, she told him a story about one of the tennis players on tour that she had, um, shown around Melbourne the previous year. Nudge nudge, wink wink.

This tennis player was from Russia (and happened to play last night in the quarter finals and beat Andy Roddick – but I’m not mentioning anyone’s name here no siree bob) and whilst he spoke English, it was with a very thick accent and perhaps the words didn’t quite come out the way they were always intended.

So anyway, this girl and this Russian guy were um, about to take a very intimate tour of Melbourne (geez – I am no good at euphemisms, they were about to shag ok!) and this nameless Russian tennis player looked down at this girl and said (remember the russian accent here folks)

“I must break you”

Puts just that little bit of a spin on the breaking of serve… (all puns intended)

* Just a note that this story of course is all told with the disclaimer “allegedly” at the beginning (and yes – you can pronounce that in a Russian accent if you like). The girl could have made it up, my friend could have made it up. But it still makes me giggle.

When we had the nephew to stay last weekend, in a fit of wishful thinking his Mum told him that he wasn’t allowed to wake us up until 7am. Or as he says “Seven zero zero”.

This was causing some concern because he was worried about how he would know when it was seven zero zero. I had visions of him running around in the dark trying to find a clock, and screaming “It’s ok – it just five one six, it’s not yet seven zero zero!”

So I moved our bedside alarm clock into his room for the night so that he could see the time. Things were going really well. He was asleep. I was asleep. Mr R was asleep. All was right with the world. Then midnight struck.

You know how when you pull an alarm clock from the wall the time needs to be re-set from 12:00? Well this principle also applies to the time the alarm is set to go off (of course! I hear you say). I set the time ok, but I thought the alarm was switched off, and didn’t bother looking at the time the alarm was set for.

No prizes for guessing the next stage in this little story.

Fortunately I am a light sleeper, so the second the alarm went off at midnight, I was on my feet running to his room to try and switch it off before it woke him from his peaceful slumber. Unfortunately my legs were still asleep, so it was more of a stumble crash bang run into his room. It’s amazing he didn’t dream of a herd of elephants bounding through his bedroom.

But I did manage to switch it off quickly, and he thankfully didn’t even stir. I however had some trouble getting back to sleep after that, as I was too busy congratulating myself on my quick thinking whilst technically still asleep. Phew – talk about averting disaster! Like it would it have been a complete tragedy had he woken up – the things you stupidly contemplate after midnight whilst lying in bed.

For the record, he didn’t quite make it to seven zero zero the next morning, more like six two five. But he didn’t wake us up deliberately, he played with his toys quite happily, but kept running down the hallway to the clock to check if it was seven zero zero yet. Maybe that clock wasn’t such a good idea…


Friday, January 23, 2004

I am inspired by Marita’s entry, as it has reminded me of one my loves – misheard song lyrics.

I love a good misheard song lyric, all the better if discovered when the person is singing it at the top of their lungs. So for a lazy Friday afternoon, here are some of my favourites.

Song – Take me to the River
Artist - “The Commitments” version
Misheard lyrics “Take me to the river, watch me drown” (real words, “wash me down”)
Misheard by: A friend of my sisters. She still insists she is right.

Song – Advance Australia Fair
Misheard lyrics “Our land abounds in nature strips” (real words, “natures gifts”)
Misheard by: Me as a youngster. The thing is, our land does abound in nature strips – am thinking of writing to the proper authorities to have this one changed.

Song – God Save the Queen (the official one – no Sex Pistols here)
Misheard lyrics “God Save the Queen, Send her to Victoria!, with Happy and Gloria!” (real words, “Send her victorious! Happy and Glorious!” or something like that)
Misheard by: My Mum’s grade two students back in the days that this was sung at Primary Schools. They really wanted the Queen to come and visit them in Victoria, and boy did Happy and Gloria sound like fun, bring em along!

I’ll save more for another day. Have a nice weekend all…


Thursday, January 22, 2004

Well the weekend passed without incident, and we were able to hand back my nephew in one piece. There may have been some bruising around the neck where my normally sweet and innocent 2 and a half year old god-daughter tried to strangle him, but thankfully that hadn’t shown up when his parents arrived to collect him.

He did forgive her when they got to the park and ran around holding hands for about an hour. I admire the resilience of kids and the instantaneous forgiveness when they try to kill each other.

He was of course a perfect angel child, although I must say he can talk. And talk. And did I mention that he talks a HELL OF A LOT? An example, if you like:

Him: Sarah?
Sarah: Yes ?
H: I saw a mistz-zu-bishi! And a jeep, like grampas!
S: How exciting.
H: And I saw a Bolvo!
S: Wow, a Bolvo! Is that like a Volvo?
H: Yep it’s the same. Bloody Bolvo drivers.

Who says advertising doesn’t work.

Since then we’ve been to a work function for Mr R, where we were schmoozed as clients and taken to see “We Will Rock You”. I can’t say that I’m a big Queen fan, and the storyline falls into a great heap in the second half (and it was only just hanging in there in the first half), but overall the fact that I didn’t have to pay meant that it was still enjoyable. Although the hero bore a striking resemblance to Ben Stiller in Zoolander, and I kept whispering to Mr R – look it’s the blue steel!

We also went off to the tennis last night, to see a rather disappointing mens’ match, where young rising Aussie star Chris Guccione got absolutely pounded into the ground. Thankfully Alicia Molik made the Aussies proud in the womens’ game, or I would have been better off at the Heineken bar. Not to say that I only enjoy watching tennis if the person I am cheering for wins, but Guccione hardly put up a fight. I do like a good couple of showy between the legs shots, or at least a bare chest or two (thanks Pat Rafter for the memories – make sure you follow through in the doubles tonight). Unfortunately the only person who was almost bare chested was Daniela Hantuchova, and there was literally nothing there worth looking at. But then she does have those legs from Slovakia, so I guess I’ll shut up now.


Thursday, January 15, 2004

Where does the time go? Here I was with a nice new years resolution to update more often, and I find it is the 15th of Jan and this is only the second update.

On the weekend we went to see “Lost in Translation”. Fantastic movie – can’t recommend it enough. Mr R works for a Japanese company and has spent a bit of time in Japan, so he particularly appreciated the glimpses of life in Japan from the perspective of a foreigner. I realise now (after some confusion on my behalf) that Scarlett Johansson (who is so, so beautiful) is the grown up little girl from “The Horse Whisperer”, and that makes me feel like I am about a hundred and seven, not 28!

The only other holiday flick we have seen was “Love Actually” which actually I liked (ha). The whole people re-uniting or departing at airports always makes me cry, and I am such a sucker for a love story. Of course things all fit together nicely in the end, and that doesn’t always happen in real life, but if you can’t escape at the movies, where can you?

Tonight is the first play of the year in my subscription to the MTC. I started this a few years ago with some girlfriends, more as an excuse to get together than anything. The reviews of “Les Liaisons Dangereuses” have not been brilliant, but I’m a firm believer in making up my own mind about such things. And it has to be a better adaptation of the old story than that terrible film “Cruel Intentions”. Things can only improve from there.

We are looking after my four year old nephew this weekend, which will be fun, but the responsibility is a bit scary. What if he falls over? What if he swallows a lego block? What if he shoves a pea up his nose? Mental note not to let him play with lego, eat peas and run anywhere. Perhaps I can find some cotton wool to wrap him in. It’s funny – I think that if he was my own kid I wouldn’t be so worried about him hurting himself, but if I had to give him back to his Mum and Dad with some sort of injury I would feel terrible. I think I might get a copy of “Finding Nemo” on DVD when it is released tomorrow, seems like a nice safe activity. Unless he tries to re-enact Nemo’s escape from the fish tank and jumps off the back deck… this could be a stressful weekend!


Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Later this year we are packing our bags for a trip to South America. Pretty exiting, I know.

We haven’t really decided exactly where yet, so Mr R has spent the last few weeks reading travel guides and brochures and trying to convince me that Bolivia is safe.

I fully admit to being a bit of a wuss when it comes to certain international destinations. The idea of being kidnapped by Colombian drug lords isn’t all that appealing to me funnily enough. So he writes the country on the list, and then I cross the country off the list. The trick is to get the right balance between adventure and safety, so lets hope for the best. The other problem is that I am not all that adventurous really, and Mr R is somewhat more so, which can cause problems in planning holiday itineraries. The ideal solution usually is to rope in friends that match our level of adventure, so I have someone to lie by the side of the pool with reading, and Mr R has somebody to wrestle alligators with. But given this holiday is going to cost the equivalent of a small nations’ GDP, and isn’t exactly child friendly, we may struggle to find any takers. I don’t think the Inca trail handles prams.

So that means I have to up my level of adventure for this holiday, and to get in training I am starting to take more risks in my day to day life. You know what I mean, like not planning which train I’ll take, just rocking up to the station and hoping for the best, knowing one will come along eventually. And driving in the outside lane over the Westgate bridge, even though I might get blown off at any second. I was thinking I might even try a flat white rather than the latte for morning tea. At this rate, in six months when we go I’ll be parachuting out of the plane.

Oh who am I trying to kid? I think I’d better encourage Mr R to find some more adventurous company.


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