preparation for my turkey has begun. i just finished cooking the brine.  i will let it cool overnight and then submerge my little turkey in it before i leave for work.  by saturday he’ll be ready to cook!  yum.  the brit is cooking 2 pies (apple and pumpkin) and bread pudding. it’s going to be a feast for six people!  we’ll be eating leftovers for 2 years.

i finally got christmas gifts for my team.  for four of them, i got gift vouchers for afternoon tea for two at the windsor hotel which is very poshy and yummy and then for my preggers gal i got her a baby bag from oroton. i  still need to get one more gift but i think i already know what that will be.  i can’t believe it’s almost christmas!  i even got super nice guy something even though he’s technically not on my team. i got him a holiday fruit cake from a fancy schmancy gourmet foodie place down the road from us. i thought he mentioned at our christmas party that he really liked christmas puddings but now thinking back on it, i think that was someone else. oh well.  at least it’ll keep til next year and then he can give it to someone else…or he can use it as a door stop or something. i am truly thankful for my team because if it weren’t for them, i don’t think i would’ve survived.

speaking of work,  i honestly think super nice guy hates DB way more than me.  amazing.  i didn’t think anyone despised him as much as me.  poor guy. preggers girl is beginning to hate him.  she said that when she called him on tuesday to tell him she was too sick to come in, his response was “oh, so do you think you can work on sunday?” nice, right?  and no one likes him…because…?? DB was chasing after me with a camera all day trying to take a picture of me with my award for our newsletter.  i wouldn’t let him so he told me to send him a picture i liked.  i sent him a picture of a wombat.

there’s a weird looking green bug on our light with with long wings and super long antennas. i hate it and i want the brit to kill it. the brit says that it’s just a long winged thing that won’t hurt me.  he doesn’t even know what it is. australia is full of all sorts of strange bugs and i’m not taking my chances with this one.  it’s probably just a larvae and it’ll grow to the size of a kangaroo.  we’ll come upstairs in the morning for our coffee and it’ll be lounging on our sofa, smoking cigarettes and laying eggs.  it’ll say “g’day mate.  i’m taking over.” and that’ll be the end of the american and the brit.  i can visualise it in my head!  i’m going to spray the hell out of it with fly spray.

the Brit and i went grocery shopping for our thanksgiving glutton fest next week.  i had the most fascinating conversation with the chappie who worked in the meat department.

ME: hi.  do you have turkeys?
Meat Boy: um, we have chicken.
ME: Yes, i see that, do you have turkey?
Meat Boy: did you try the deli?  They’ll cut if for you.
ME: I need a whole one for roasting.
Meat Boy: Oh, we just have chicken.
ME: uh, okay,  do you have ham that’s not already cooked?
Meat Boy: all of our pork is over there.
ME: I know but i don’t see ham.
Meat Boy: Well, there’s a pork roast.
ME: but I need a ham.
Meat Boy: well it’s all the same.  pork and ham. they’re all pork.
ME: Ham is cured pork from the leg.
Meat Boy: but it’s all pork, right?
ME: i’ll just go to the butcher.

i walk back to the brit with an exasperated look on my face.
ME: we have to go the butcher. they don’t know what ham is.
Brit: i can’t believe you actually asked him. they’re dumb here.
ME: but everyone knows what ham is, right?
Brit: Apparently not

god help me. this is why i don’t go out very often.  i’m surrounded by dumb people.  he really got to me though.  i had to go home and google “ham versus pork” to make sure that i wasn’t the one in the wrong.

i was asked to provide feedback on The Italian Waiters Club (oddly enough, by someone not in Australia…you know who you are and if you plan on visiting,  you better tell me!).  I went there with a girlfriend after work a couple of weeks ago and here’s my recap.

My poor girlfriend!  she walked up the collins street hill to my office in heels!  she’s crazy but i’m totally feelin’ her sore feet so i suggest we just go to the bar across from the restaurant for a quick drink before our booking at 6.30.  now the restaurant is in some little laneway off one of the main drags in the CBD (Bourke street) and we weren’t sure which way to turn once we got there.  i of course suggested turning the wrong way and had to turn back but we found it. by this point, i think my friend was considering cutting off her feet.   it’s not that hidden away really.  some of the bars in the city are tucked deep into long winding laneways.  this one is easy to find if you don’t listen to my crap sense of direction.  much to our relief there were two empty stools next to some super annoying girl with blond fluffy hair and her friend clad in suit, pointy white shoes and mullet (love melbourne).  after having vodka (me) and some weird pinkish champagne (yeah i know, i looked at her weird),  we decided to ascend the rickety stairs that lead to the restaurant.

i flung open the door and it was like a tiny version of denny’s.  actually, that’s not fair.  the waitresses don’t wear ugly brown uniforms and there wasn’t a group of emo kids sitting in the corner talking about jack kerouac/dungeons & dragons whilst taking advantage of the free coffee refill policy (hey, we all know who i’m talking about here).  it was a diner,  with formica tables,  non descript chairs and little vases with a flower in them (i can’t remember if it was a real flower).  my first thought was “i can’t believe this place takes bookings.”  good thing they do though because the place was busy.  we were shown to our table which was next to the Pepsi cooler and were told that our menu was on blackboards strategically placed in the two places in the restaurant that made it hard for us to read.  i ordered lasagne and my friend got spaghetti and meatballs and we both got a glass of wine and some garlic bread.

before the meal came,  my girlfriend asked me if there was a money machine nearby because she only had $20 in cash.  i told her that i had about $1oo so we should be okay but if not,  one of us can run out.

oh the wine. they serve it in juice glasses filled almost to the top. it was great! one glass and i was right for the rest of the night.

garlic bread.  nothing spectacular but it did tick the boxes of (a) being bread and (b) having garlic on it.  i like the frozen garlic bread from the supermarket so i’m probably not the best person to judge but i thought it was good.

food.  omg.  so. good.  portions were quite large and we both said that there was no way we would be able to finish.  yeah right.  twenty minutes later,  we were practically licking our plates to get the last of the sauce.

we didn’t have room for dessert shamefully.  if the brit were with us,  he would have had dessert anyway.  but us, being two girly girls who are supposed to be conscious of our figures and all that antiquated jazz,  decided to forego dessert.  i actually think the prospect of my friend having to run to the ATM machine in her heels scared her off (though i would’ve offered to go!).  we asked for the bill and it was $50.  my girlfriend looked at me and said “each?”  i had to double check the bill but it was $50 for both of us.  damn, we could’ve had the tiramisu but there’s always next time.

so there you go - my experience (and more).   i’d go there again.  i’d definitely recommend it.  i’m dying to take the brit there.  if you come to melbourne,  you should check it out (and the flower drum which is my favourite!). 

i wonder how long i can milk the jetlag story to avoid working hard.  anyone know? 

ah, work.  it has me so confused at the moment.  today, i spent the day doing the duties of the job that i got turned down for.  i asked my manager if these duties would be transitioned to the newbie and if i would have to train him (in my head i was screaming “over my dead body!”) and he told me that he would probably want me to continue to do it for a while because he only trusts me to do it correctly.  really?  that’s interesting because… oh i don’t know…i didn’t get the job. 

my bitterness/passive aggression is on hold at the moment because yesterday they told me that they would hire an attorney to do the paperwork for and pay for half of my permanent residency application.  i don’t quite know what they’ve got up their sleeve but i clarified that i would get my residency as a spouse of the Brit who is a citizen and not as a slave employee of the company.  they seemed quite content with that so i told them to bring it on.  if they’re dragging their feet then i’ll just go ahead and do it myself.  but that’s pretty good, eh?  the application can be pretty costly,  money better spent on a new Tod’s bag,  so if they’re going to pay for half, then i’m more than happy to oblige.  the Brit is a bit dubious about the whole thing and wants to make sure that it won’t tie me to the company.  to be honest, i’m a bit suspicious myself so i may ask for something in writing (written in blood preferably).

so things are just dandy here.  i brought some spray cheese back from america for all to look at and marvel.  we’re all afraid to actually try the stuff. it has directions on how to apply to crackers that sound like the directions for applying hair dye. no thanks.  also,  the fact it says in big bold letters on the front “made with real cheese” is off-putting.  it immediately makes me suspicious.  i would just assume it would be cheese since the word “cheese” is in the title.  it’s like if a doctor put on his signage “John Smith M.D.  I’m a real doctor!”  Would you seriously go to him? yeah,  i don’t think i’ll be tasting it.  so i’ve put it on my shelf next to my obama action figure. my homage to america.

friday
i dorpped my dress off to be taken up last week and now i’m freaking out a bit.  it’s silk and very delicate and i wonder if it’ll be okay.  the man who took the measurements was sweating profusely and didn’t speak great english.  when i told the Brit where I took it, he said “really!?” in the sort of way that makes me worry.  i went to a proper dressmaker and they wanted to charge me $150 and take three weeks to do it.  and there’s no way i’m taking it to the man that shortens his trousers. his shop is in a dingy laneway next to a mattress store in the city.  his shop is the size of a postage stamp, the walls are yellow (from old age) and there’s a tatty picture of george foreman above his sewing machine.  the guy is about ninety and is the grouchiest man ever.  the Brit reckons that he had to leave his wife and babies behind during the Blitz so that’s why he’s grouchy.  i think he hates people and doesn’t have time for them which makes me kind of like him but i still fear him enough to avoid him.  when i pick up my dress,  i hope the Brit doesn’t say “i told you so!”

I also wandered in the city looking for the art supply store.  good thing the city is tiny so it was only 15 minutes of hopeless meandering. ended up going to the store by our house and when i got home, i realised that i bought the wrong shades for the skin tones.  i thought i could fix the situation by mixing colours but it’s still not right.  i stepped back to have a better look and realised her eyes are a bit lopsided.  bugger!  the brit can’t think of anything nice to say so he doesn’t anything at all (his momma raised him right!).

saturday
the Brit finishes his game! that’s all the excitement we can handle in one day.

sunday
psycho lady makes a brief appearance. the Brit is unfazed (probably used to it by now) and tells me to start exercising or else i won’t receive any affection.  exercise, discipline, then affection.  i can’t believe he’s applying the Dog Whisperer to my depression.  i’ve blamed everything from being homesick to not being able to get rid of the little black mites on steve’s (the plant) leaves.  yeah, sounding a bit crazy, eh? we both know the answer is because i’ve taken off the last wee while from working out.  exercise is the only thing that balances me out.  the Brit talked about the chihuahua on the Dog Whisperer that just needed exercise to sort out it’s crazy behaviour.  i should have been insulted that he’s comparing me to a yappy dog with bug eyes, but i know he’s right.  exercise every day for me starting now (i mean starting tomorrow).

later, i’m craving somthing sweet.  i try puppy dog eyes on the Brit to see if he’ll stop what he’s doing and attend to my needs. he’s on the verge of offering to do just that when i start to feel guilty (yeah, seriously, what’s up with that?!) and tell him i’ll just make something.  i end up making scones topped with fresh blueberries and whipped cream which i lovingly whipped by hand.  i eat two and decide that i’ll work it off on monday when i get my new toy.

monday
on my own. cannot leave the house because i cannot be trusted so i need to entertain myself somehow.  elliptical guy coming at 11 so i scramble an egg and change from pajamas to quasi-pajamas (yoga pants and a t-shirt which i often wear as pajamas).  good god, the new elliptical machine is huge! thank goodness i had the sense to pay extra to have it assembled for me.  i’d be trying to tighten bolts with a coin or with a butter knife – and i’d end up with extra screws at the end which is always disconcerting.  he was done assembling it before my episode of “murder she wrote” was over.  that’s quick! it’s brilliant.  i spent 45 minutes on it and loved it so much that i went another half hour later that day.

i mixed a new paint colour and painted over the face of my painting and decided to start her face over.  the paint is now a foot thick on the canvas.  if i were picasso, i’d be able to get away with lopsided eyes and greyish pink skin

when the brit gets home from work i announce (again) that i shouldn’t have to work (ever)

today
good grief, it’s tough getting up in the morning when you know you have to work (i woke up the same time on the days i was off so i could have coffee with the Brit before he left…mew).  the Brit tells me the shower is free. I get up and lie down on the floor in the room next to the bathroom.  the Brit steps over me and tells me that he is going to make me coffee now. 

Work is incredibly quiet today making me question my need to be here.  i should’ve taken a sick day.

not.

ah, it was a glorious 4 days off.  having to go back to work is a real buzz kill.  again, i should get paid to stay home.

eating animal products on sunday was extremely anticlimactic followed by spending the entirety of monday feeling horrible.  I am back to being a vegetarian.  the thought of meat on monday made me wretch. maybe i’ll ease back into meat, red meat especially.  me and a friend went out to a curry place for lunch today and i all i could eat was dahl, some rice and naan.  I did partake in some delicious haloumi cheese and i made cinnamon buns for everyone for easter breakfast.  that didn’t give me any problems thank god.  mmm, eggs, how i missed you. 

we totally nerded out and watched all three Lord of the Rings movies.  i was just felt like watching them. the Brit said he would watch them too – but he’ll do anything i tell him to do (that’s what i tell myself anyway).  it was good – could do without the tender moments between frodo and sam but what are you gonna do, eh?  also watched a few more movies i can’t remember the name of (which must mean they were really good).

my predictions were correct and i spent the entire four days in my pajamas.  it was great.  i got dressed once thinking i would have to make a supermarket run but the Brit went for me.  life is good. i am not wearing bedsheets.  i thought about it though, not because i had eaten too much this weekend but because i had nothing clean/wrinkle free to wear to work.  but who am i kidding?  i’ll call in sick before i wear bedsheets to work…  i’ll call in sick if i have a run in my pantyhose and no spares.  yeah, it’s like that.

today i have gotten three more invites for facebook.  that is a total of 16 invites over the past couple of weeks.  that is 16 more friends than i thought i had.  who are you people??  and how come they are just now doing facebook?  hasn’t that thing been around for ages?  it figures that my “friends” are a bit slow to jump on the bandwagon.  some of them i haven’t talked to in years.  others,  i’ve actually emailed directly since being in australia and haven’t heard back from them (feeling the love guys…thanks).  maybe it’s because i’m not their facebook friend.  maybe if i write them an email and CC the rest of the world on it, they will reply.  i think i actually have a username for facebook…i set it up ages ago when someone said they had a message for me (which, consequently was “hi”… wtf??).  anyway,  i thought i’d use it occassionally to lurk/stalk others,  but i can’t be bothered.  i just lurk around other people’s blogs.  much more fun.

in The Age this morning,  i read this article “Money in bra saves woman’s life.” the gist of the article is that some woman in Brazil had a wad of money in her bra,  gets on a bus,  shootout ensues,  she gets shot in the chest but the wad of money absorbed the blow of the bullet thus saving her life.  not like i plan on being involved in a mass shootout (or riding a bus for that matter..eww),  i’m going to start packing some notes in my bra.  i guess i’ve been doing it all wrong with kleenex.  money is way to go.  god, australian news is so good.

i ate way too much fruit yesterday.  i didn’t think it was possible to have too much of something healthy but i felt horrible by the time i got home. i almost died on the elliptical machine (which would have been ironic because i was listening to Maroon 5 “harder to breathe”). the Brit came home, and when i whined about my funny tummy he shook his head and wagged his finger at me and told me that i need to show restraint.  I have come to the conclusion that being healthy is actually not good for you.

i’ve limited myself to one peach, one apple and one banana today.  i got a tin of tomato soup for lunch which in theory sounded good this morning.  in reality,  as i glopped it into my bowl, i knew that i couldn’t be more wrong.  it looked like ketchup  and pretty much tasted like it.   yum.  i proudly emailed the Brit to tell him that i had limited my fruit intake and was having a bowl of tomato soup for lunch instead and he said that a tomato is a fruit.  bah!

the husband loves my pancakes,  even the ones i take bites out of while i’m cooking them (i just want to “test” them).  on sunday i attempted to make my pancakes extra special.  koala cakes.  they had strawberry mouths but they got a bit mushy and slid off.  some blueberry eyes got mushy and it looked like some of them had conjunctivitis but they still tasted lovely and i got extra praise.  see what you miss andrew?  damn melbourne public transport! (shake fists!)

i don’t usually eat lunch but by noon, i was ravenous.   the banana and apple didn’t satisfy me and i was craving something savoury. i should also mention that i am feeling unbelievably lazy today. the thought of going to the cafe downstairs is making me tired which means i get lunch from our kitchen which is pretty well-stocked if you like vegemite, jam, white bread, oatmeal and olive oil. we also get instant soup in. i chose of packet of ham and pea. i love pea soup.  i’ve never had it from a packet before so i thought i would try it.  i was distressed to see that the powder was orange…not green.  did this deter me?  no! i filled my mug with boiling water and stirred away the orange lumps.  yum yum. it didn’t taste bad per se.  but it didn’t taste like ham or peas. i found that the soup tasted better once i had crumbled up a million cheese crackers in it.  i have a morbid curiosity to go back to the kitchen and see what ingredients comprise the pea and ham soup – what exactly were those chewy bits that didn’t get dissolved (ham bits? carrot bits?).  ignorance is bliss i think.