In an attempt to conceal just how much I struggle with writing up blog entries, I'll begin this post with an irrelevant but worthwhile tidbit like how a can of corn kernels has the capacity to smell like cheap wine. Are you riveted? I dearly hope not. Otherwise, I'll chastise you for being a low-quality reader (but secretly be thrilled that my weak statements have an easily moved audience).

In the past week, I've managed to uphold two negative stereotypes that may or may not involve "women" and "asians" with relation to driving. How might one do this, you ask? Simple. Reverse into a midget-sized pole in a carpark. I'm not even going to make excuses for myself; in fact, I'll even add that the smash repairs guy and I are totally on a first name basis. I said, "HELLO, I'VE COME BACK TO BRING YOU BUSINESS," with the chipper air of one who is not a war veteran. He laughed and said, "I should give you a frequent flyers card." (*Will just note that this is the first of my road misadventures where fault rests on my shoulders, mmkay)

So, I've been enjoying the bustle of the outside world. My rustiness at blogging can attest to this. Yesterday after class, I made my way to the Museum of Contemporary Art with Alex, whereupon he informed me that he totally had some rehearsed comments and art appraisals at the ready, ahaha bless! Then I took the following picture at some point during a leisurely stroll. Sometimes I forget how beautiful I find the city I live in, but instants like these are like refreshing gusts of clarity.


In the evening, Nerida picked me up for a gig, and added me to the collection of girls in her car. I instantly warmed to them like a potato in a microwave after hearing, "Oh, we'll look after you tonight!" in response to my delcaration that I was the baby of the bunch.

Here, have some myrth:










I love live music, the atmosphere of a small pub, and the collective easygoing quality of people who frequent these venues. There's little pretentiousness to stab through, unlike at clubs, and falling into conversation with anyone is as easy as settling into a an armchair specifically designed for the grooves and ridges of my tender bottom! Stumbling into bed at a time of day pre-emancipated-Cinderella did not have the luxury of enjoying, sleep was short-lived, and I drove Isabelle to school prior to jumping onto a train with Min, in order to make it to a television shoot. We were extras, courtesy of the darling Chris, and all I'm prepared to say on the matter is I am mother trucking better at tennis than I ever gave myself credit for!

Look, all I'm asking for right now is a calf massage. I am exhausted.
It should also be noted that I haven't gone to the gym since Monday. You see how treacherous old age is?!? Excuse me while I have a quarter life crisis...

Night

Posted in: babyporridge, car accident, gigs, nikki malvar, photoblog, picturepost, tv on Thursday, August 6, 2009 at at 11:14 PM