Let's Go To The Shops ......

Is it just me, or are today's shopping centers so confusing, you have to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find your way out again?

I suspect the reason you see so many elderly people sitting on shopping centre benches, is not because they love to shop, it's because they went n when they were young, got lost and now live in KMart and Target.

In fact, I think I smell a TV show - Survivor Doncaster. Your challenge today is to avoid being stopped by any of the mobile phone sales people.

OK the problem with my local shopping centre, is that I can never find my car, when I've finished. I really need to carry a NAVMAN just to find the bloody thing when I've finished shopping.

I swear they rotate the shopping centre just after I walk in the automatic doors. And I'm convinced the  car park levels whirl around on some sort of a rotisserie.

And of course, there are no clocks.  I renember the old days where the only thing you had to take with  you when shopping in a mall, was a credit card, oh or cash. But now you need a comass, trail mix and, of course, a sherpa. By the way, the only instance where you'll ever see the time in a mall, other than you wearng a watch, is when you try to buy one. Be prepared, however, they're all set to London time or New York time or Hemmer time!

But all that said, there's something completely compelling about a proper shoppng centre. It's an experience.

I'll never forget when the first big shopping centre opened in the country town I grew up in. For the first few years of my life, if mum or dad wanted to buy anything, they would go to different shops in different places. But all that changed with the opening of the new wiz bang shopping center.

The family was so excited when it opened. Thirty years lated, I still remember the TV adverts promoting it. "Where it's always 21 degrees and fine".

You know the place hasn't got much going for it, when the best thing they can come up with to promote it was "we have air conditioning". I can still remember a hardware store that was promoting "we have doors you can walk in and out of".

We've come a long way, I think.

To change the subject, we're driving to Sydney and I asked them to stop the car so I could go to the bank.

Now is it just me thinking this? Did the person who came up with the name 'banker' get the first letter wrong?

Before I'm beaten to death with the 'next teller please' sign, I should clarify that I am not talking about the humble bank staff here - I realise that working in bank is like working in a strip club , you get to stare at the good stuff, but you can't take it home

Thanks for reading. More about this next month.

The Witch and the Vampire

I'm upset that as a child I never got to celebrate Halloween. I got so jealous of American kids who got to go trick or treating. Sadly when I was growing up. If someone you didn't know offered you lollies, it was time to involve the authorities.

As a child I was fascinated by the idea it was totally acceptable  .... errrrr encouraged ...... to go from door to door, dressed as a telly tubby and ask people you didn't know for lollies.

When I was 8 or 9, I remember feeling ripped off that I was born in Australia, where if you went around asking for food, it's called 'begging'. I wanted to dress as Dracular, I wanted to bob for apples, or give apples to bob, or whatever you do with apples, carve faces in pumpkins and light candles in them. (Actually who would want apples when there are lollies around?)

Sooooo I really wasn't surprised by the knock on the door last night. What did grab me though, is opening the door to be greeted by a witch and a vampire.

Now either the Mormons were having a fancy dress party or I was being trick or treated. Turns out it was a couple of kids aged 5 and 6 who had just moved to Australia from the US and didn't want to miss out on Halloween. (I should point out that this info was conveyed by their dad).

Anyway as they held out the pillowcases they were using as lolly bags, and screamed 'trick or treat' I began to panic. I knew for certain there wasn't any chocolate in the house. I knew this because I'd eaten it all about half an hour ago. What. In God'sake could I give them?

I knew there were some dried fruit and raisins in the cupboard, but the kid inside me knew what crap tweets they would be. I rushed to the fridge - nothing. Well, there was a couple of bottles of wine and various condiments. Oh, and a 6-pack of beer for my friends.

I briefly considered giving them the booze, but figured dad would appreciate it more than the kids. And the unopened jar of marinated garlic seemed just as imappropriate (errrr vampire).

I looked at their faces and my heart broke. So I ransacked my place and grabbed whatever I could find.

The witch and the vampire ended up leaving with their pillowcases stuffed with 6 CDs, a digital alarm clock and a $39 JB HiFi voucher I'd received for my birthday.

Party Time

Hi boys and girls,

The other day I received an invitation and was really excited until I spotted the words that fill me with dread. Nope not "bring your own booze". Worse. "FANCY DRESS".

Look, I don't mean to be a party pooper, but to me fancy dress means putting on my tracky daks and a t-shirt with no stains.

While I do concede that fancy dress parties certainly have their moments, overall I find them daunting, particularly because I'm forever putting my foot in it.  Put it this way, you should always check tha someone is in costume before you comment on their outfit.

Plus, I have enough trouble recognising people at the best of times but once I've had a couple of drinks and they are dressed as the Incredible Hunk, it's a lost cause.

'Hi, I'm Kate'

'Yes I know Kate. I'm Paul from Staff Accounts. I hope you're remembering to keep your receipts or you'll make me angry, and you won't like me when I'm angry.'

For those readng this who have never experienced the joys of a costume party, there are some things you need to know.

Just like there's one burnt chip in every packet, and every boy band has an ugly member., there's always, always, a naughty nurse.  Regardless of the theme, if it's aminals they're dressed as naughty grey nurse shark or religion it's naughty nurse who helped deliver Jesus in the manger.

My next tip is, try to be a little bit original. It's bad rolling up to a normal party and seeing someone with the same outfit as you, it's even worse when you're both dressed as Supergirl!  Oh, and they're costume is better.

Another thing. If you are dressed as a horror character, you might want to arrange a lift home.  You think it's hard hailing a taxi after a few drinks? Try it when you're dressed as Freddie from Nightmare on Elm Street. And with those hands, hitching might be a challenge.

I'm thinking about it.

Incidentally. Had a phone call the other day from a high school crush!

I'm not proud to say this, but I think there are a couple of boys I dated in school whom I'm technically still going out with because I didn't have the guts to break up with them. If you're one of those guys, I'm sorry and happy anniversary.

Grocery Shopping ..... Eeeeek

I mentioned to my sister-in-law the other day, that I was bored. Jeez, on holidays in this great land, and I'm bored. Sheeeeesh!

Why don't I do her supermarket shopping, she suggested. Ok, riiiiiight!

Now I ask ... is it just me, or have others noticed that the world has become unnecessarily complicated lately?

OK, item number one on her list is MILK. Easy. Yeah right. Oh my Lord, has anyone noticed lately, how many types of cow juice there are in the fridges these days? In the time it took me to walk the length of the fridges, most of the milk had passed it's 'use by' date.

Milk with iron, powdered, goats milk, coconut milk. I really just wanted white milk! For the health conscious, there is 95% fat free, 96% fat free, 97% fat free, 98% fat free, long life milk, UHT milk (which is the sound people make when they drink it.)

But it's not just milk that has gone option mad.

Next on my sister's list, TEA. Easy! Errrrrr nope. For someone who doesn't buy tea very often, I had to deal with another half an aisle of choices.

For starters, what the hell is English Breakfast? Is it supposed to taste like an English breakfast? Oh and Irish Breakfast - is this supposed to taste like Guinness and a punch on the nose?

What about Earl Grey? Well I'm sorry but I can't drink Earl Grey. It always feels a little formal to me.  Like it should only be for when you're having the Queen over for tea. It seems wrong to have it when I'm wearing tracky daks and ugg boots.

Then there's camomile and Jasmin (which sound too much like strippers, to me) Russian Caravan, Finest Ceylon, Ordinary Ceylon and Not Quite Rght Ceylon.

Bread.

OK, don't get me started on bread. I remember when all we had Michael Jackson bread. Brown or white. (Think about it). Whatever happened to good old fashioned bread bread?  Now we have sourdough,  soy, rye, linseed, soda, whole meal,fibre added, fibre deducted, thick,both in, whole grain, multi grain, gran frm Spain blah, blah, blah.

I'm sorry but whatever hapeded to god old fashioned white bread? The only decision to be made was sliced or unsliced.

Now we get interesting. "Buy me some razors" said brother dear. Sure, how difficult is this? Okay - can we just skip to the razor that has 100 blades and be done with it? The first blade picks up the hair, the second one cuts it, the third goes out and picks up your laundry,  the fourth goes to market and all the rest go wee wee wee all the way home. Soon you guys will have a seperate blade for every hair on your face.  They are going to be like boy bands soon - the blade that can sing, the blade that can dance,the ugly blade,  the nerdy blade and the gay blade.

Next on the list was tissues. Christ don't get me started on these.

I'm going home.

Fighting Weight

It's official. Australia is one of the fattest countries in the world.

Cool! When do they give us a trophy and more importantly, is it coated in chocolate?

I guess someone should make an acceptance speech. Maybe it should be along the lines of "I'd like to thank Sam's fish and chips without which none of this could be possible. And of course, not forgetting our inspiration Ronnie McD and the Colonel?"

Yes ladies and gentlemen, we used to be girt by sea and now we're girth by sea. Speaking of the sea, maybe the ocean levels are not rising at all. Maybe Australia is sinking because if all the fatty boombahs.

If you haven't caught up with the news, according to a survey, Australians could challenge for the heavyweight champions of the world. They would give us a belt, but it wouldn't fit.

Remember when Thorpie won all that gold at the Olympics? We were all so quick to say "go Australia, we're number one. Champions at swimming".  My point being, as much as we liked claiming it as a victory, we had bugger all to do with it, whereas now we've been named as one of the fattest countries in the world, each one of us can look down at our beer gut, man boobs, love handles, and think "I helped".

Now before we try to complain that we're all just big boned, retaining water in case there's another drought, or hoping we'll be super contestants if "The Biggest Loser" returns, we should look at the facts.

Obesity is becoming a bigger problem down under than drugs. Forget crack addicts, we have Big Mac addicts. Maybe we need sniffer dogs at airports, not to check on people bringing in drugs but people bringing in Krispy Kremes.

All jokes aside, with the rising cost of fuel forcing airlines to charge higher luggage fees, there have been calls for them to weigh passengers rather than luggage. While I understand the logic, this seems a bit cruel.  Can't imagine standing at the counter and hearing "I'm sorry sir. You already have your excess baggage with you."

Something else ......

I'll turn 30 something in May. And here's to a few more years. Why, then, does it feel like the extended warrantee on my body ran out years ago?  Lately it seems that everything has started to all apart.

I first started to notice it when something like moving my body came with it's own soundtrack. Five years ago, when I got out of bed, it was done silently. These days it's accompanied by a groan similar to a Hungarian weightlifter competing in the clean and jerk crossed with the type of phone call that costs $5.95 per minute. (Are they still available?)

  I'm getting old. Till next time folk.

Taxi Drivers - Love 'em

Clearly my mouth and brain, which usually work reasonably well together, have had irreconcilable differences and decided to part company.

The final straw came during a recent blackout when I popped next door to find out if my neighbour's power, gas or water were working.  Well that was the intention.. But when they opened the door, the first words I said were "do you have gas?"

Going right off the point.

I catch cabs often. That's what happens when you drink with breakfast. (Steady on, I'm joking.) So I've compiled a list of my worst worst taxi offences.

First the taxi driver who doesn't know where he's going. I'm not suggesting that they should know where everything is. Even God misplaces Guam occasionally. But there's nothing worse than getting into a cab at the airport and being asked the best way to get to where I'm going. Look I have absolutely no problem with the cabbie having to look up the address, but I'd rather he did so before starting the meter rather than halfway into the trip and then hand me the street directory and look it up for him.

"Dude, I'm not your navigator and this is not The Amazing Race.  Would it be easier if I drive so you can have a snooze? Although I expect you to sling me a couple of bucks for the trip and no, I don't have change for fifty."

Then there's the driver who knows the most direct route, but chooses not to take it.  "Hey mate, I'm no Miss Melways (street directory) but I'm pretty sure the most direct route to the MCG is not via the Sydney Opera House. But here's an idea. How about you ask whoever you've been taking on the phone to if they know the most direct route?"

In their defence, taxi drivers do have to put up with incredible crap from the public. If cabbies he a dollar for every time someone asked "been busy tonight, mate?" , I might be able to get change for my fifty.

And then there are the drunks. From the footy players who've mistaken the taxi for a clown car and are trying to cram fifteen people into 4 seats to the clown who open the door and asks the driver "Do you have room for 4 slabs, 2 pizzas and half a dozen souvlaki?

That's why it's great when you get a cabbie occasionally who restores your faith in the entire profession. It happened to me recently when a taxi cane to pick me up and he was, ready for this?, towing a caravan.

It was the most Australian thing I've ever seen. Turns out he was going on holidays and figured he may as well make some money on the way. His family were in the caravan and he was taking fares but only if they were heading in the direction of Queensland.

What a guy. Right attitude.

More next month.

A repair person I'm not!

When it came to fixing things around the house, it's safe to say I was never a handy woman.

When we were growing up, my brother and I were never really good at building stuff. In fact the only time I rubbed shoulders with someone in overalls, was when our parents took us to a K.D. Lang concert, the only carpenters I knew were in my parents record collection and the only time I'd used Selley's Liquid Nails was when I found some under the sink once and tried to bake a cake with it.

For most of my life, I was the sort of person who was less DIY and more DIYTCAETRD (Do It Yourself Then Call An Expert To Repair Damage) type of person. Even Jesus had more luck around wood and nails than I did.

In the past, the only thing I was good at was picking up the phone to call 'hire-a-hubby'.  Shouldn't use the line 'is great doing odd-jobs around the house' and my name in the same sentence. I once got a flat tyre on my Holden Barina (hello young ladies), and when the RACV couldn't come for over an hour, I called my mum and she talked me through it. Yes as far as doing 'blokey' things I think I'm slightly behind Julie Bishop but way ahead of  Malcolm Turnbull.

I had to call a plumber because of a leaking tap.  As it's not my place I called a couple and the first one to arrive was getting the job. As it happens, they both arrived at the same time, or thereabouts. So I was stuck with one tap and two plumbers.

As somebody who chose air travel as a job because it's sort of indoors, and no heavy lifting (usually), I greatly admire people who actually work for a living. Plus, with plumbers, I feel we're kind of in the same line of work. It's just that I talk it, and they make sure it get's flushed away,

Anyway, at the end of a long day with them working in the rain and me lingering awkwardly, I decided to try to bond with the bonza blokes (Aussie lingo) by getting them a bloody beer. (Sorry. Again I learnt this Aussie bloke talk from watching Alf in Hone and Away).

So I went to the fridge looking for a good blokes beer like VB or Fosters, only to be greeted by a range of designer ales with names so complex they sounded like they were named after Angelina Jolie's kids.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, they didn't want to charge me because 'you're a visiting Aussie. I love Aussues.'

Yes, I'm Aussie. I love Australia. I couldn't be more Aussie if I was riding a kangaroo down the Main Street, eating a vegemite sandwich, drinking a VB and staring at a picture of Warnie.

I reckon most Aussies would say that in certain areas, we've always seen ourselves as superior to the Brits. Weather immediately spring to mind. Oh, and sport! Sometimes I suspect we'd be happy to come second last in the Olypics, as long as Great Britain came last. Well actually third last, as we have to beat New Zealand too

Remember when Britain beat us at the Olympics? It basically knocked  all other news off the front page. Suddenly no-one cared about terrorism. Forget the bombs, we were beaten by the Poms!

And beaten we were. Every mathematician in the country was pulled off important research to prove that we won more medals 'per capita' than Great Britain.

I'm depressed now. Back next month.