Annoying teenage ferals

While standing in my happy Tuesday night bus queue coming home from class, I stumbled upon a charming group of young men (let’s name them the group of annoying teenage ferals) – you can see where I’m going with this already I’m sure.

Let me give you a picture of the ringleader: emo looking hair (only not nearly as trendy or cool as the regular emos), facial piercings, baggy tracksuit pants, and an attitude like you’ve never heard before – actually you probably have. This picture would be being too kind – but you get the idea.

Anyway the scenario tonight goes like this.

Me = standing in the queue – probably about 2 bus loads of people long. At the point where I’m patiently standing, the queue thins out to 2 or so people wide standing next to each other (as opposed to about 5 wide). The feral ringleader approaches the point ahead of me where the line begins to thin. Then he calls to his legion of miniature ego flattering followers to join him in jumping the queue. Never mind that there’s only about another bus load of people in the queue behind me. They stand quietly pretending not to notice.

Ordinarily I’d begin to mouth off. Something along the lines of “How about you go to the end of the line like everyone else?!”. Not today. Today not only did I hear the voice of my boyfriend reminding me to keep my mouth shut or one day I’ll get myself into trouble but today I also got the feeling I may have been ringleader feral’s next victim of a knuckle dusting punch. That’s right. He began to boast about how his knuckles were f—ked up because he beat up some c—t.

Yes. That’s the C word. A word I can’t bear to hear. He continued.

“It’s gonna cost like 10 grand to fix bro”. “I’d have to sell my car”. “It’s just cosmetic… it’s not like a girl will look at my knuckle and be like woah bro that’s an ugly knuckle. Chicks go out with ugly guys all the time bro”. “Did I tell yas my girlfriend has been cheating on me for 3 months ay?”

At this point I’m thinking wow karma really does work. He doesn’t let up.

“I’m so angry hey. If I see her I’ll totally headbutt her. If anyone messes with me I’ll f—ken punch em hey. Let’s go to the front of the line – no one will say s—t to me. Can’t concentrate in class or nothing. She’s such a s—t”.

At this point I’m willing the line to move faster and hoping that I don’t have to listen to this loser the entire way home on the bus. Thankfully they skip the queue a little further up and I am rid of them.

Now you may be thinking, Elle you’re just getting old. But seriously, who let’s this type of kid into University? He sounds like he’s got a brain the size of a pea – and shouldn’t his intelligent looking little minions know better? They look like super geeks who wouldn’t know cool if it smacked their four eyes in the face. Surely their mothers taught them better than to support this goose in his quest for constant assurance and approval of his peers.
Before getting on the bus I overhear the ferals further up the line talking about possible full time positions as graduates at Westpac and NAB and all I can think is please please please let the corporate world eat him up, spit him out and bring him back down to size. Now that would be karma.

Over and out – home safe without lecturing the ferals or being beaten up (much to the boyfriend’s delight).

Elle

Quick hit no.3

Food

What a difference a week makes hey?

Last week I was eating spaghetti and meatballs... beautiful... salty... meaty... red wine tasting meatballs with the carbohydrate I know and love... pasta mmmm

This morning it's untoasted muesli... fresh mango... kiwi fruit... banana and strawberries... + some yoghurt

How are your food habits this week? Did I mention I went to yoga at 6.15 this morning ;)

Quick Hit No.2

Stop the honking (beeping)

I was reminded around 1am this morning of the need to address the serious beeping problem (mainly by taxis) in this city. If you've ever stayed the night at my place or stayed at a hotel in the city you'll notice a myriad of noises but one of my top 5 hates is the taxi beeping his horn (and not just during the day).

Maybe we could introduce something similar to this in the Sydney CBD - what do you think?

Or maybe I should start a petition like this one? http://www.stopthehonking.com/

Ugly bus drivers and cute ducklings

As I have mentioned in a previous post, two days a week I head to Law School. Getting there involves a bus which goes from the city to the University via Anzac Parade. The buses are supposed to come every 20 minutes and as I walked up towards the stop today, I saw the bus leave (I had just literally missed the bus by 20 seconds). Had I been wearing pants instead of my tightly fitted Cue skirt, maybe I would have run and made it. Imagine me running in a tight skirt (laptop in hand... handbag over the shoulder and tiny little puncy running steps that look more like ballet before I'd trip over the footpath and faceplant breaking my laptop and spewing the contents of my handbag all over George Street). I knew I'd have to wait another 20 minutes but it was better than the alternative - sigh.

I walked downstairs under Town Hall. I figured that given today was a whopping 30 degrees with humidity probably around 90% I deserved an icy cold Boost Juice. I love a good Boost Juice - particularly one with mango or passionfruit. So I went with the skinny smoothie called "Mini-Me Mango" with mango and passionfruit and lots of ice - purrrrrfect.

I walked back up to the bus stop and waited... and waited... and waited... and almost 30 minutes later the bus finally turned up. One every 20 minutes - not today clearly! I could have stayed in the office and got more work done!!! As I stepped onto the bus, the bus driver refused me entry.

REFUSED ME ENTRY?!! (I can hear you questioning too). I have never been refused entry to anything! am I missing a shoe? does my hair look bad today? do I not have a ticket?

"You cannot take that on here". He's talking about my Boost Juice.

At this point i'm willing to negotiate...

"But I just bought it".

"You cannot get on the bus with it". "Leave it there" as he looks sternly to the gutter.

"That's littering - I can't break the law". "There are no bins anywhere".

"You cannot get on the bus". "No".

The lovely Asian girl standing next to me offers to shove it in her bag (mine is full with plenty of items which include a bottle of water and a textbook). He begins to yell at her.

"NO".

I try one more time.

"I cannot leave it here. There are no bins. It will have to come with me and I'll put it in the rubbish when I get off".

But it fails.

"Leave it there - you cannot get on".

I was FURIOUS. I just bought this glorious low calorie $5.20 icy Boost Juice (of which i'd had about 1/4 of) and I had to leave it behind. I run towards Gloria Jeans and leave it on one of the tables (I'm mortified of course). The fact of the matter is I have to get on this bus or i'll be late for school. I HATE being late.

Bus driver - 1 Me - 0. Did I mention FURIOUS?!

Well it gets better. It's one of those new beautifully airconditioned buses - relief. Oh that's on the days it happens to be working... today NOT SO MUCH! There is one roof vent which is barely open on a 30 degree day with a bus full of people. So not only is the bus late, I get refused entry and toss my Boost Juice and now there's no air conditionining and damnit where is that icy Boost Juice when you need it?!

Sydney Buses - 1 Me - 0.

So I post on Facebook. No one seems to care but it makes me feel better. What don't people understand about this ridiculous rule that you cannot take drinks and food on a bus?! I'm a busy woman - I have to eat and drink in between work and school. More particularly I need to hydrate in the sweltering heat. In London you are encouraged to take water with you on the tube (another UK/AUS comparison - sorry) but doesn't that make sense? And what by the way, is the difference between the water in my bag i'm going to drink and the Boost Juice that was in my hand?

NOTHING.

ABSOLUTELY FREAKING NOTHING.

While I stare at my Mount Franklin water bottle I remind myself that it's fine and I can get another Boost Juice tomorrow (like you would to a small child who has just had her toy stolen). But it was this hot day, this Boost Juice and this stupid bus. I don't want one tomorrow!!!

I get to class and proceed to tell anyone who will listen and they all sympathise and encourage. I get into things and temporarily forget about the craziness of my journey.

Home time comes and I dread the next bus journey home, the long queues and the fact that at any moment the predicted thunderstorm is going to come and if earlier in the day is any indication, it's going to pour the moment I leave class.

We get an early mark of 15 minutes - booyah! I walk quickly (in my tightly fitting skirt) to the bus stop knowing the queue will be small. No queue. Brilliant. I board the bus.

"Hello how was your day?"

Cue my look of shock and awe.

"It was good thank you and how was yours"

"Great".

Yes that was the bus driver asking me about my day. WHAT THE?!

This bus also has no air-conditioning but all the windows are open and a breeze has begun. The storm is on its way. We get a good way down Anzac Parade and the bus begins to slow and because there aren’t too many people on the bus I can see through the front window that there is a mother duck and 5 ducklings in the middle of the road freaked out and going every which way to get out of the traffic.

The driver slowly follows them trying to prevent other drivers hitting them and then after a minute or so the bus suddenly stops. The driver jumps out of his seat and runs onto the road where the ducklings were trying to get up the gutter. They were just too small. He picks them all up and puts them over in the grass and directs them into the bushes away from the traffic. Awwwwwww.

And that made all the difference today. I thanked the bus driver when I got off and remarked about what a great job he did saving those baby ducks.

As I walked from the bus stop to home it began to rain but not enough to get soaked – thank god for the small things hey (and thank you to the bus driver who restored my faith in humanity - or maybe just Sydney bus drivers).

Elle

The Short Red Skirt

I was heading downstairs from my office to grab some breakfast the other morning when my gaze was averted to a woman wearing the shortest skirt I have seen in any office in a long time (although to be fair, I work with lawyers, and to say they dress conservatively is an understatement).

Anyway… I digress. As I was walking along with a colleague and I couldn’t help but stare at these very long legs wearing the short skirt, which was red and in my head I’m sure it was that Ferrari red - but I could be wrong. It wasn’t just me that noticed it, my colleague also began to comment about how short the skirt was. Then… I freaked.

Could it be? Oh no.

It can’t be.

I’m pretty sure it is.

As I began to say … “that’s Vivian” my colleague was also doing the same thing “are you sure?” “no”... “oh”.

Sure enough it was. My lovely friend Vivian was wearing possibly the shortest skirt I have ever seen. This may be coincidental given the fact that she’s in the best shape of her life but does that make it office appropriate? I don’t think so.

If you Google “short red skirt” the pictures you come up with are nothing short of inappropriate and let’s face it – this skirt was short. It would have got a whole lot more appropriate head-turning in the Cross on a Saturday night (and let’s face it – even then I’d be judging!).

But what if I give you some more context? My friend Vivian is 36 and it turns out the skirt she was wearing was a skirt from when she was 19. How many 36 year olds do you know that can fit into a skirt from their late teenage years? None that I know of – other than Vivian. Impressive!!

So here you have it… my judgmental “wow that skirt is way too short for the office” has morphed into a “you know what… she looked smashing and good on her for being in such great shape to still be able to wear it”. It doesn’t mean it should be worn in the office and you’ll never see me wearing a short red skirt in the office (or anywhere… EVER… no matter what shape I’m in) but I grant kudos to a woman who is so empowered to wear a short red skirt (and look great in it).

Elle

quick hit (attempt) no.1

KEEP TO THE LEFT

I live and work in the city of Sydney and everyday I walk to work. While it is less busy in the early mornings, in the evenings I often avoid main thoroughfares and highly populated streets to avoid this scenario - imagine this:

I'm walking fast... it's the end of the day and I just want to get home... I step towards the left to avoid a collision with an oncoming pedestrian... the person coming towards me also steps towards the left... I step towards the right to avoid them and they step to the right instinctively too. I do an "argh" sound and step back to the left and usually mutter something under my breath like "keep to the left" or just "left" followed by "jeez" and what do you know I'm in a filthy mood by the time I get home.

It got me wondering today whether Sydney is doing something wrong in not letting people know that we're a "keep to the left kinda city". I recently visited my best friend in London and I made a real effort to follow their "keep to the right on escalators" rule. While I didn't get it every time, by the time I left London I had it down - my other half was still working on it. But in London, there are signs everywhere, it's hard not to know that London is a "keep to the right kinda city" but don't get me started about why that's so wrong.

There are signs on the roads in Australia (see above) but what about signs on escalators and high traffic footpaths or even tourism magazines and brochures. Should this be added to the list of things one might need to know when visiting Sydney?

I beg you all, if you are in Sydney and walking on the footpath, driving a car, standing on an escalator, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE keep to the left so that the rest of us can pass you by while you daydream and we can get home without the need to rant.

Elle

ps. This quick hit was supposed to be two paragraphs at best. Turns out it's not such a quick hit after all. I have renamed it quick hit (attempt) to show this.

Appreciating

A list of verbs (quite like a quiz) appeared last week on a blog I like to read – see Chantelle’s blog at: http://fatmumslim.blogspot.com/2009/09/much-ado-about-something.html

I love a list or a good quiz whether online or by email and I love seeing other people’s responses – particularly to the one on Chantelle’s blog. The quiz on her page is much more open than your typical 'what is you favourite colour' type of quiz. However, the 'doing words' as we called them as kids, are the things that keep me going everyday – wanting, wishing, hoping, thinking, thinking, thinking… (you can see a pattern here right?!).

What are your 'doing words'? Do you have any to add to the list that you are particularly fond of?

When I sent around the quiz to my friends on email I added appreciating. Appreciating is one of my favourites. I like to reflect often on the thing I’m most grateful for – my family, friends, career, house (apartment), my country and my life generally.

While I know a lot of my blog may eventually be filled with rants or whinges, I do think it is always nice and equally important to love, enjoy and appreciate.

Elle

ps. keep an eye out over the coming weeks for my quick hits – sharp, short and to the point. A must read.

A day in the life of...

I thought as a good way for you to get to know me and for me to get to know you, I’d give you a snapshot of daily life for me. Feel free to share your day in the life of in comments below.

6.45am – wake up. Shower, dress, teeth, makeup (if time), pack gym clothes and fruit or yoghurt from the fridge.

7.30am – last check before walking out the door; keys, wallet, phone. CHECK. Plug in ear phones and apply lipgloss in the brief journey downstairs in the elevator. Launch email on the iphone and read while walking to work. Update and/or check facebook… still walking.

Commence spring 09 playlist (if I haven’t already) which consists of Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga and Kate Miller Heidke (amongst others). Usually at this point I’m walking through the park and noticing the leaves on the trees changing again (I’m not sure if I do this everyday but it seems like they change so much from day to day and I’m continually amazed – I have recently taken a snap – see below). The next thing I notice is the truly pungent smell of urine that a homeless person has kindly left on a tree near the path this morning – thanks for that. I am reminded that I am not in Kansas anymore.







I walk a fast-paced walk and avoid all fast food vendors and cafes. The city is a myriad of temptation for those who love convenience food and impulse buys (aka ME!).

7.55-8.00am – arrive at work… sweaty. As I walk up the escalators towards the lift, I yank the security pass out of its usual spot in my handbag – swipe and GO.

8am – the day officially begins with a call from the boss. It seems another issue has become urgent overnight and today will be another one of those days. Meh. I’m not fussed. Everyday is one of those days.

12.05pm – leave the office for the gym – today is power yoga with a new teacher I haven’t had before. Feeling slightly anxious. My inflexibility causes me great difficulty and having a scary teacher telling me how I should be doing something, as opposed to how to make it easier, is daunting to say the least. She’s lovely of course and corrects my downward dog (even lets me bend my knees in lots of poses which makes me much more comfy – I like her – I’ll go again).

1pm – 45 second shower, change back into work clothes, tussle hair and dart back to the office still red-faced by 1.15pm. Make my ham and salad sandwich upon returning to the office and return voicemails and emails while trying not to hoover my sandwich. Commence filing project today – only 600 emails to print, staple, hole punch, sort and file. ARGH.

6pm – have forgotten my umbrella and it’s pouring outside. I meet a friend in the foyer of my office and wait until the rain eases up. Walk down the street to dinner for a good girly catch-up however I’m so hungry at this point I scoff dinner in 60 minutes and jump in a cab to the pub near home for a few quiet ones with friends. 2 drinks then bed.

9.30pm – walk home from the local. Check email and facebook when I get home and update status where necessary.

10.30pm – tv and bed.

Repeat.

2 days per week I leave my office around lunchtime to go to law school. You’ll be hearing a lot about law school I fear, for it is my latest and greatest idea. I spend 4 hours in class, 2 times per week. Let’s not mention the 30 minute queue I stand in on a freezing cold night after class with 40o other university students while waiting for the express bus to return us to the city – and forget getting a seat (you’ve just got to get lucky).

What is your typical day like?


Elle

Ideas

It all starts with an idea. In my case it’s never just one idea, but countless ideas and all at once.

I'm what you call a multi-tasker. Every part of my life revolves around my ability to multi-task. To be a good multi-tasker you need to be switched on… even in your sleep. This is I’m sure, why I dream, because it’s a never-ending task of taking stock and working out what else needs to be typed, filed, read, re-read, considered, replied to, booked, washed, cleaned, cooked or purchased – and that’s the short list. So I thought why not add another element in my already challenging multi-tasked life and start a blog.

I consulted, considered, toyed with the thought and as per usual canvassed the idea with friends and colleagues. It was a resounding yes. I think people were looking forward to me posting opinionated rants about politics (an interest of mine) or a rant generally, because I do a fair bit of that in person. I’m an extroverted multi-tasker (maybe the extroverted part is a requirement of the multi-tasking – I’m not sure) but it means not only do I think a lot but I talk… A LOT MORE!

So why am I so short on words tonight? I guess here every word counts – or it seems to… but I’m hoping to keep it conversational. I want to hear from you and to respond to your comments, just the way I would in conversation, whether that be a rant or a shared experience, a new favourite blog or to share another one of my crazy ‘never to be followed through’ ideas. I hope you enjoy what follows as much as I hope to enjoy writing it.