Ever monopolised the entire city's stock of 4GB RAM sticks on your desk? No?

What about sitting on a bus, daydreaming about scratching your arse while staring out the window, only to see a car (ridiculously) try to cut in front of the bus, followed by a THUD straight into your bus, and finalised by said car swerving straight into oncoming traffic and hitting another car in the process, rendering traffic on the Anzac Bridge to a complete halt...? No?

All in a day's work, my dears, all in a day's work.

I'll keep tight-lipped on the former, but as for the latter... yes, that happened yesterday. For such an epic series of events, it was surprisingly fortunate that no one was seriously hurt. Everyone on the bus was fine, the perpetrator was fine (probably just suffering from shame), and the car full of well-dressed professionals were fine, despite suffering a pretty ugly smash to the driver's seat.

Not to make light of the accident, but the driver in question was NOT Asian. Woman, yes, but not Asian.
(Just thought I'd put that out there... Hold yr tongues, you stereotyping scoundrels!) But I am both female and asian, and we all know what that combination means for driving skills, so i"ll just take one for the team here and say I caused the collision... hells yeah!

Aside from being a menace on the roads and in the workplace, I've been trying to reclaim my work-gym balance. I am a porker these days, and it is getting a little difficult to try to hide the triple chin.

At first I thought that growing a beard might do the trick, but then I realised that:
a) Rogaine is a bit difficult to source in this part of the world, and
b) If I were to grow facial hair, I'm more partial to mutton chops (pictured below) than any other type of thick and long, chin-camouflaging hair armour. (Hairmour?)

So I quickly learned that the solution lies in the more traditional means, of which I used to be so diligent! This means regular exercise and a permanent ban on hash brownies. (By that I mean hash browns of course...)

So I've come to learn that by the time I get home in the evenings (earliest ever being 7:30 pm), I am a lethargic sack of cow dung. I then need to haul myself to work out in the mornings prior to leaving the house at 8 am. And last week, I was magnificent! I managed to pry myself out of bed at 5:30 am for a twenty km bike ride both Wednesday and Thursday morning. This week was a write-off, so uh, let's move on to some quick photo-booth camwhoring...



You know, I'm actually quite impressed with the chin curtain and goatee above. Does it look like a promising summer look? Does the assertive facial hair finally match my handshake? (I give a mean grip. None of this limp fish bullshit...) Do I look older than my twenty-one years, wiser perhaps?

The questions are endless, Dear Readers. I want your uncensored opinions.

Spring has well and truly sprung! I took advantage of the delicious weather about two weekends ago by frolicking in the yard:




But these days, I am about as interesting as a glob of licked Nutella off a spoon - not so delicious because you realise that the hazelnutty goodness is coated in slobber and a myriad of diseases probably ranging from Hepatitis to the Black Plague of 1348. I am clearly an Occupational Health and Safety hazard.

But to toot my own horn just a little, I am forcing myself to be diligent with my music. Throwing around the excuse of 'having no time' is no longer an option. For the past week and a half, I have locked myself in the study, just writing and recording during every piece of downtime I've had. I've completed two tracks with reasonably full instrumentation, and I've got one (novelty) track in progress. I daresay the novelty track will make an appearance on the YouTubes in the near future, but if you happen to be of the select few who read this thing and want a sneak preview, here is the first minute and a half of the track. It's called 'A song about B.O.' and fully inspired by my little sister.

I'm also now in love with salsa dancing and classical music, maybe in that order. Over the past month, I've probably stumbled into eight salsa classess. Whodathunk I'd ever enjoy my salsa just with hips and without guacamole?! (Awful joke.) I managed to go to my first (and to this date, last) Zumba class ever, AND I AM SMITTEN. But Zumba will probably turn into yet another unrequited-affection-type-ordeal I'll end up writing a sad song about, since my schedule is not conducive to honing this love affair. Le sigh.

And as for classical music, I'm totally injecting culture into my veins and opting to listen to the Classical FM station during my drives. Debussy, Tchaikovsky and Satie, I love you. Age (and one-sided polygamy) is no hindrance, I promise...

Anyhow, I best be off. I start work at 7:15 tomorrow, which means this beast best be up by 4:50. Goodnight and am hoping to type to y'all again soon. I know I've said that before. But just think of me like that awful girlfriend who promises to change - she'll promise to quit being needy and whiny, and that she'll quit flirting with all the supple young law students. And although she doesn't change, you keep coming back despite better judgment because the milkshake. is. just. that. good.

And maybe also because she slips Rohypnol in everything you drink, tells you to 'Put the lotion in the basket', and keeps you chained in the basement next to her past three (decapitated) boyfriends.

I leave you with something sweet:
(A screenshot of me e-picking Daddy's nose during a Skype chat)


And I leave you with something not so sweet:
Disclaimer: if horror / psychological thrillers / dismemberment isn't yo thang, DON'T CLICK.

xx N

Posted in: babyporridge nikki malvar original music facial hair collision on Thursday, October 28, 2010 at at 8:22 PM 5 comments