Relocation, relocation, relocation.

Long time, no type.

So, I have relocated my personage from one side of town to the other. The process of this required me to go through my belongings and decide what things I would take and what things I would leave behind. A task somewhat more involved than I had initially anticipated.

I discovered that over the 22 years of my existence, I have accumulated a lot of crap. Random bits of bric a brac that I have thought necessary enough to keep at the time- and now have sentimental value growing on them like mould in a damp cupboard, making throwing them away or leaving them behind a difficult task.

Initially, when it first came to light that I would soon be changing my locality, I had decided that my childhood toys would be staying at home. But when it came time to leave my beloved (and just a touch manky) bear/bunny that was a Christmas gift from Santa at Kindy when I was 3 or 4 behind-I just couldn't do it. This unidentifiable stuffed animal has been with me for longer than I can remember. He has always been my favourite. I couldn't just leave him, it would be cruel.

And so, a lot of the crap I had originally intended not to bring with me has ended up in boxes on the floor of my room and I have no idea where I'm going to put it.

What I do know is that this "grown up" business is quite odd. Having to draw up plans like in Kindy so that very one knows where everyone else is going to be and so that someone remembers to feed the dog. We even have named week planners on the fridge, a meal planner and a list of chores.
It's like being a child, but more expensive and worrisome.

Happy Alaska Day! And don't forget your tie.

It's Alaska Day! The day the Alaskans, people who were once Alaskans and people who would really like to be Alaskans celebrate the day that their fair state ceased being part of Russia and became part of the USA.

Also on the cards today is International Necktie Day (you can blame the Croatians for this one). The modern necktie was around by the time of the Thirty-Years War. Croatian soldiers wore their traditional knotted neckerchiefs and the Parisians -because they were Parisians- though it looks cool an made it a fashion statement.

Going Superhero...

It may be considered blasphemy by some to learn that I really, really don’t like summer. Summer is my least favourite time of year.

In Autumn, Winter and Spring you don’t have to wear several thousand layers of sunscreen every waking moment of daylight to keep from becoming red like an overdone lobster.  You are not in a constant state of dehydration due to sweating and you don’t have to complete change up your work wear to accommodate not being able to wear sleeveless dresses without a cardigan.

Summer is the time of year when people who are blessed without the good ol’ Irish complexion show off their ability to gain a bit of colour without having to go all red and painful first. Summer is the time of year when fashion designers only design shorts for people with Really Good Legs. I have been on the hunt for a new pair of shorts for about three years, I am yet to find a pair this season that cover my arse. I am not a tall person, I am just over 5ft 2”, finding shorts that at least cover the very top parts of my stumpy little legs shouldn’t be that hard right? Right?

Dead wrong.

Apparently this season comes to you courtesy of denim underwear with the pockets hanging out the leg like misplaced testicles. Make sure you always wear your best undies because the rest of the world will be able to see them no matter what you do. We will see the waistband creeping over the top of your hipster shorts and should you need to bend over, your outwear will simply move to let those knickers take the spotlight.

Now, I’m not saying that they always look bad…. Wait… no that’s exactly what I’m saying. They always look bad.

When I was at work the other day a young lass came in wearing these “pants”. To start with she was a healthy looking human being, which is to say she was an average height, fit looking, not a lot of extra fat. In anything else she would have looked absolutely stunning, instead her underwear shorts said “look at my owner’s enormous thighs!”. The other problem was that I don’t think she was wearing any underwear, as an entire shop full of people were treated to a view of her pubic hair when she bent over. Its pretty hard to ignore something like that.

I think that if you are going to go and wear underwear as outerwear you should at least go superhero. Get some leggings, whack your undies on the outside and give yourself a superhero name. People will still be staring at you, but it will be because they think you’re a weirdo, not because they can see your hoo-ha and they’re not sure if you know that.

A River, a Fire and some Fish and Chips.

This week, those of us that live in the sprawling metropolis of Brisbane looked to the sky and saw some explosives being shot out of boats on the river. It was all very exciting. There were red ones, yellow ones, those ones that go BANG and then go all sparkly, those ones that don't go BANG, the ones that sort of just fizzle out like they aren't even trying to be impressive.

I am privileged enough to have never had to be amongst the crowds when watching the fireworks. The only time I have ever done that was one new years eve... It was something I regret with every inch of my being. There is nothing quite like having beer spilled all over you and going home to realize that you smell like someone else's sick to make you really want to do that again.

Throughout random years of my childhood we watched Riverfire from my Dad's office building. It was cool. We were level with the Dump and Burn and one could see the whole awesomeness of it all. Last year I was in another office building with friends, the only downside was that we had to keep rampaging around the office to see all the fireworks. Imagine 20 20-somethings running around full up on dip and wine. Its great. This year we were a merry band of 5. We arrived late (sorry Tim), we walked down the hill to the local Chippy and obtained our sustenance of fish, chips and burgers with The Lot, walked back to my friend's apartment and perched ourselves on the balcony where we saw the whole spectacle from 10 kms away.

It was, perhaps, the best one yet. No silly crowds, no annoying rampage around the building to get the best view. Just good food, excellent company and a damn good view.