babyfreakingporridge.

Blogging is a huge priority [extremely picture heavy]

Look, I won't lie.

See that title? Well, let me clarify it a little for you. I thought about blogging, for days now actually. Thought about blogging on my drive home this afternoon as the sun glinted nicely off my bird-pooped-on windscreen. Situated myself in front of the computer, did the token back stretch in preparation for blogging, then I thought long and hard about blogging while looking at pretty pictures and playing some tetris.

And how! Look where we are now.

....The ridiculous thing is, the above words were written on Monday evening. It is currently Thursday evening. Time has elapsed, Kanye West died, Kanye West regrettably did not really die, the desire to blog remained present, and still, my wordcount remained unsubstantial .

Ridiculous, I say.

I'm so exhausted, but not unfulfilled. Today was productive, if by productive we mean I have tired (and smelly) feet attached to weary legs, am a few dollars poorer from beers, and have read an admirer note possibly penned to me in mx - the free paper.

No, really. Today was productive. Spent the morning in the editing suite logging and capturing footage for our tv journalism final project. We're doing our story on parkour - obviously am excited about the subject matter and the talent we get to work with. The thrilling thing is that I managed to capture the entire tape. The not so thrilling thing is that there are currently three other tapes in my bag left to capture.

Made our way to UNSW, also known as The University of New South Wales or 'that campus that regrettably is a lot more attractive than ours' to film an interview with a law professor. Being journalism students, we couldn't just film a lovely promo piece for parkour, so we're exploring public liability and legality with regards to parkour. Much to my annoyance, we discovered that the equipment store supplied us the wrong cable, and as a result, we could not attach the external mic to the camera. So I totally had to put aside my patent perfectionism, swallow my dignity, and settle for the sub-par sound quality of the in-built mic.

(By the way, any reference to apparent perfectionism is a joke. A funny one at that!)

Fortuitously, Djordje txtd me earlier of a training session occurring on those very grounds! So we got around to filming more footage, although I should clarify that Angus filmed more footage while Lauren and I ogled and perved. Maybe I shouldn't speak for Lauren though, so in that case, fine, I did it - all the ogling and perving. It was all me!

We needed to interview Shaun, but the lousy in-built mic and the wind were a most ill-fated couple, so Djordje was gracious enough to drive us all back to uni to obtain a functioning lead for the external mic. The interview went swimmingly, and Djordje, Shaun and I headed to the uni bar where I bought them some well-deserved beers. There was myrth! And there was laughter! I swear, they are my favourite parkour swine.

And while reading Mx on my train trip home, I came across this:

This may just be my overblown self-indulgence talking, but I think... that was for me. Last Wednesday, I wore all black - from my boots, to my top and my jacket - except for my skirt which was blue. (But blue and black are practically the same thing if we disregard that "ack" is phonetically different from "ue".) The train line mentioned above happened to be the one I was traveling on. I was handed a note, by the young man seated in front of me, whereupon he told me I was pretty, followed by a series of numbers of which we can assume are the digits of his mobile phone. Not to be rude and completely disregard the note, I shook his hand, told him my name and said, "I'm off at this stop. Nice to meet you." He then told me I had pretty eyes... which I think is a load of bollocks considering I am asian and asians don't generally luck out in the eye department. Just saying.

In conclusion, was that note for me or was that note for me?

Anyway, it's almost 1am. Am heading in again to uni to get as much footage digitised as I can, so shut-eye is in order. I'll scrimp on the words now and leave with my trademark picture dump from the night of my gig and from Hugh's 21st the night after.

Just quickly though: so grateful to everyone who swung by to hear me offend the silence with my vocal chords. Nikk and I did 4 of my originals (So Incredibly Profound, I Quit Being Miserable, If I Wrote A Letter To Myself and Walk Away), The Mamas and the Papas' Dream A Little Dream of Me and Britney's Toxic. Thanks guys! Thanks Nikk!

Gig:

Hugh's 21st:

(birthday swine & i!)

Posted in: on Monday, October 19, 2009 at at 7:50 PM 8 comments

(:

Will update more later. Am getting my vanity on and getting ready for Hugh's 21st tonight. Yeow!

Posted in: on Saturday, October 10, 2009 at at 5:04 PM 9 comments

october is for births.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the majority of you have not lived. Unless you can actually say that you've had your piece of cake stabbed my elbow, then you haven't lived. Mona, however, has certainly lived.

Instances like this reinforce why I should never be let out in public. But she still ate the cake, mind you. That could be testament to a) how much of a trooper Mona is, b) how delicious the cake was, or c) how much my (unmoisturised) elbow-assault probably made her night. I like to think it was c). It's always about me, damnit.

Giselle's 80's-prom-themed-21st was a chill way to spend my Saturday evening. I had the fearful premonition that I'd spend the evening as a wallflower since I did not know her crowd, and also because my social skills are not much evolved from pond rocks. Fortunately, I found some familiar faces and even...I daresay it, made new acquaintances. It should also be noted that, while I love the western social paradigm, very few things beat the food at asian gatherings. By that I mean there is ALWAYS real food. And lots of it. None of this finger-food crap. And if you've read my blog enough, you know it's unnecessary for me to detail just how much I get into food. I get into food in a big way, alright.

Anyway, happy-snaps:

Disregard the fact that I look pregnant in the next photo. But it was the only (almost) full-length photo I found:

Aaaand the next photo, being a 'milestone photo', deserves its own special mention. For the past four years, I have been wanting to meet this fine specimen named 'Stef'. Stef is very close pals with Hilary, who I met on myspace back when I could freely admit to using it without fearing an onslaught of judgment... and now the Hilaroo and I are close pals. For the past four years, I've been hearing anecdotes about this hilarious individual, and lo and behold, I finally met her in the flesh:

Seriously, how stunning is she?! Stef tooted my own horn and said she stalked my own pictures and whatnot and has heard many an anecdote about me from Hilary. After needing to disappear for a ciggy, Stef immediately came back and relayed her boyfriend Duncan's, also a fine human being, comment. "I'm gonna take a stab in the dark here," he said, "but is that... babyporridge?"

Caught up in my own fangirling and then having them acknowledge / know of me... well you can imagine the hearty amounts of squeeing I did. OR CAN YOU?

These next couple of months are going to blaze on so quickly. October is essentially my last month of academic study, so that means a whole lot of being frantic. On top of this, everyone gets horny and goes at it on New Years Eve, which is why all the proverbial buns pop out of the proverbial ovens in October. Can we say more twenty-first parties? Oh you bet we can. Just off the top of my head, my tentative party schedule is as follows:

9th - MY GIG !1!!11one (which I know doesn't count as a party, but we shouldn't think me above drunken festivities after the professional portion of the night is over)
10th - Hugh's 21st
18th - Hugh's 21st, part 2 (You wish I were kidding)
24th - Min's 20th
30th - Szwec's halloweeeeen party
31st - Daniel's 21st

And come mid-November, I fly off to the homeland (AGAIN :D) just for three weeks though, to accompany Isabelle for when her school semester ends. We cut the trip short on account of her wanting to come back just in time for her formal.

And just on a really abrupt parting note, I thought I should say that the only thing better than a Hayley G Hoover blog entry is a conversational thread of Hayley G Hoover personal messages sent straight to your facebook inbox. Oh yeahhhh.

Posted in: fail post boring boring boring on Sunday, October 4, 2009 at at 4:17 PM 9 comments

hey stranger

I've obviously had a grueling day. You know, in between playing hide and seek with my macbook, laughing at (and/or living vicariously) through some electronic smut, as well as sampling how I might taste with no marinade or necessary exfoliation, rest has been an elusive little mothertrucker. Haw haw.

Okay, in my defense, I didn't just have an unjustifiably lazy day. I spent the morning sweeping and mopping the tiled floors of the hallways, kitchen and dining area, sorting out everyone's laundry, and generally being a domestic machine of large proportions. Before you allow me to tick the 'fantastic housewife' box on your potential mate checklist, I should probably clarify that this is only a conditional perk. When assignment deadlines are pervading the air like the foulest of farts, procrastination in any form is looked upon. Favourably.

I also made myself some fruit salad involving orange, apple, lime, salt and chili (yes, chili!) a la Min and her people for dinner, partly because it's delicious and partly because I think that eating fruits will validate my subsequent consumption of the entire bag of red rock deli chips, currently sitting unopened in the pantry.

You know, I miss blogging. I miss typing up incoherent posts for my audience of three (me, Dad and occasionally Isabelle when Dad coerces her to read me for some writing style - though looking at my love of trackies and oversized shirts, I don't know exactly how helpful I am with style. Last time I checked, hobo-un-chic was so 1994... or whenever the hell Mary-Kate Olsen still did not yet reach 'has-been' status...)

Of not great interest or relevance to many of you is the fact that I am not the only one menstruating in this house. How's that for honesty, eh eh eh? (I know I will be paying for this with a hyperbolic drop in readership, I know, I'm sorry). The reason I bring this up is because the other perpetrator is an unexpected participant of the crimson wave surfing championships! IT WAS A CUCUMBER. I found an old, withering cucumber in the fridge, secreting the remnants of its fertility in a red fury onto the other unsuspecting vegetables in that drawer. Riveting, no?!

Ah, a poor segue! Aforesaid menstruation was heralded in by some pretty intense PMS on Wednesday. So much so that my crankiness made for some pretty potent adrenalin. I managed to jog my arse for 5kms, followed by 30kms worth of cycling. Upon reaching home, I followed the natural course of progression and asked my father the only appropriate request for when at the disposal of PMS - "Dad, I want some portraiture please. With this knife." And comply, he did:

Thursday, I spent the afternoon at a pub with Hannah and Bondi Ink Tattoo Artist, Kim. I mentioned in the previous entry that we did a news piece on home-tattooing for tv journalism. Kim graciously lent himself as talent, although on the day of the interview he walked in, an intimidating man in a leather jacket and earrings, slightly despondent and more-than-slightly hungover. (But it turned out well in the end!) Anyway, it was supposed to be a brief meeting for the show and tell of our finished project and to thank him again, but it turned into a fantastic afternoon of loitering, drinks (beer for him and non-alcoholic for Hannah and I who had to drive back) and d&m.

Friday, spent some much needed time with Min. We may or may not have trawled through thisiswhyyourefat.com and found a collective desire to consume some bacon. Our concoction involving roti bread smeared with cream cheese, honey-glazed bacon and onions, cheddar cheese and liberal amounts of bbq sauce was nothing short of culinary salvation and an express ticket to clogged artery town. Got up to some unnamed mischief with Hilary later in the evening.

Got in a rehearsal with the talented Nikk on Saturday. He makes my tunes sound somewhat decent! Oh oh oh oh, I don't recall shamelessly plugging yet on this blog, so here:

Oct 9, 8pm onwards, Nikk & I will be performing at Rubby Rabbit in Darlinghurst, thanks to Neel from Blind Hot Gems who got us the gig. It'll be sweet. If you're a Sydney-sider, swing by for the de-flowering of my gigging career! And then we can totally get smashed because I am the pinnacle of professional! Joking, but really, do swing by. I'd appreciate it (:

Oh shit. Dad just opened the Red Rock Deli Chips. I am out of here like a creten too uninspired to come up with an analogy!

x

Posted in: babyporridge nikki malvar domesticity gig music ruby rabbit on Sunday, September 27, 2009 at at 6:56 PM 6 comments

poop &a half

It has been over two months since I last posted a 'real' youtube video with actual edits and sequences and over two weeks since I last posted a blog entry. This can only mean one of two things:

1) My lack of cooperation in passing on email chain letters has finally caught up with me, and some psycho clown hailing from under my bed has cut off my fingers with spoons, and has subsequently rendered me internet-inept, or
2) I have finally realised my true calling as a party animal.

AND WHAT AN ANIMAL I AM!

Last weekend's Friday night saw me get acquainted with a little Vodka, a little Whisky and a little of what I like to call glorified piss, i.e. beer, for Chris's 21st. The following night saw the donning of ridiculous heels, dancing and shots for a ladies night out.

Come Sunday, I came to the realisation that I'm probably all too little party and all too much animal, spending the majority of the day in an oversized System of a Down shirt, possibly purring disgruntedly and licking at my fur, and generally feeling sorry for myself. The main reason for wallowing in the quagmire of self-pity was the disgusting amount of junk I consumed in a single weekend and the absolute lack of exercise that ensued. I drowned my sorrows by tucking into a huge bag of red rock deli sweet-chili-sour-cream chips.

What can I say, the weekend was THAT epic, I needed an entire week to collect my thoughts for an appropriate recollection. That, or I've been too busy being cool and playing tetris on facebook.

No, but in all seriousness, this week has been nothing short of hectic. So much so that tonight, a Sunday night, I got home past eleven from staying in the final cut pro editing suites at uni with Hannah, Angus and Lauren, working away to make a Tuesday deadline. I'll get into the story at depth tomorrow, or whenever time is kinder; it's fascinating. Think hepatitis C, tattoo needles and inked up manly flesh. Fascinating story, I say.

I wanted to discuss at length the drunken advances from people old enough to know better than to pursue this infant, but perhaps for another time eh? I leave with a trademark picture dump, yeah!

Christopher with his token "Angelina-took-my-photo-to-the-cosmetic-surgeon-and-said-copy-these-lips" pout

Aaaaand ladehz - in the very wholesome stages of night:

I don't know about sustaining this party animal lifestyle though.... It detracts from time with my first love, i.e. gym, and this is not a good look for everyone involved. You know it's bad when you've only made it thrice to the gym this week for some paltry cardio and it's been a week and a half since your last pump class. MOTHERTRUCK! /Back later, triple chins = not attractive.

GOODNOIGHT