The Door Stays Open

For the first time in 28 years, I am solely responsible for keeping myself alive. That’s right, folks! I’ve got my own place. All mine. Only mine. Mine mine mine! But with that great power comes great responsibility. I actually have to plan my grocery shopping before I get to the supermarket; I have to remember to get the washing out of the machine once it’s done; I have to do all the cooking; I have to do all the cleaning (which is probably the biggest one) and not only that…I have to take the rubbish out!

But, even with all those extra jobs and duties, I’ve found that within my little piece of real estate, I have phenomenal cosmic power! As I type this post, I am sipping from a glass of wine, which was resting on a Star Trek coaster, which is on top of an Elvis tray table. The rest of the Elvis tray tables are housed next to my Elvis guitar, right next to the coffee table that houses my Star Trek figurines and other Elvis memorabilia. And since it’s Christmas, the lights are twinkling on my Elvis-themed Blue Christmas Christmas tree. And that’s just the start of it!

You know that door thingy on the bathroom? It stays open! All the time! Putting make up on? Open! Having a shower? Open! Making an offering to the porcelain gods? Open!

Don’t feel like cooking tonight? That’s fine. Oreos and beer it is!

Want to play a song on a loop for hours at a time because you’re determined to learn the Thriller dance? No one there to chase you with a knife after the third repeat.

Washing up in the sink? Nah, I’ll do it tomorrow. Or even put the dishwasher on…without a full load!

You know those shows that you publicly trash but secretly love to watch? You know the ones – Toddlers and Tiaras, What Not To Wear, the 12 hour marathon of Storage Wars. There’s no one there to confirm these are watched in your house. And best of all, no one to take the remote. I can flick between three channels and no one complains.

Although it’s hard to blame someone else for taking the last cookie or missing a spot of dust, there is one major incentive for living alone and one which I heartily embrace.

NO PANTS!

You have the day off and don’t want to do anything but sit on the couch? You don’t need pants for that! Hard day at work and you want to kick back with a beer? No need for pants! Cooking dinner? No pants. Putting away your clean clothes? No pants. Housework? No pants.

So to all those people who are thinking of moving into their own place. Yes, there are down sides, but think of the freedom you get. Especially the freedom of not wearing pants!

You Can’t Say Can’t In Canada

G’day mate! You hear that and you instantly know that the person talking is Australian. Perhaps it’s the accent, or perhaps it’s the words themselves that invoke images of sunny beaches and golden tans…and the occasional crocodile or shark attack. But, a warning to all those Australian travellers out there…there are some things you just can’t say!

It’s really quite amazing what an accent can do to a word. Listening to a New Zealander say fush and chup will usually get a smile. Asking them for suxty-sux servings of fush and chups to be delivered to suxty-sux suxty-suxth street will get a chuckle. Asking them if their nupples got stuff sutting on the dick chair will amuse people (okay just me) for hours.

Same with asking a Scot to say murder or brandy, or getting an Irishman to say potatoes. To the speaker, they are just talking; to the listener, it can brighten an otherwise dull day. To some people though, there are some words that you shouldn’t say outside your own country.

Case in point: Australians can’t say can’t in Canada. To the Canadian ear, the arn’t sound comes out like unt as in hunt. So telling someone “you can’t” will lead to a few raised eyebrows and probably some not-so-hilarious misunderstandings. Remember…you can’t say can’t in Canada!

Also, hockey to Canadians = ice hockey. Hockey to Australian = field hockey. There’s also street hockey, inline hockey and indoor hockey. But in Canada, hockey will always mean the hockey that’s played in a cold arena with blades on the bottom of your boots. And also of note, the Mighty Ducks movies are not an accurate portrayal of the game. Nor do the penalty rules make sense. It’s easier to enjoy the game without really understanding the strange rules.

When a Canadian says they drive on the right side of the road, they mean the actually right side of the road. When an Australian says they drive on the right side of the road, we mean the correct side of the road.

When a Canadian says they are double-fisting, it means they are carrying a drink in each hand. When an Australian says it…well I’m sure you can find that out on the internet! (Warning: Totally NSFW!!!!!!)

Squatter in Australia is a boardgame about sheep stations.  Squatting in Canada can either mean taking over a property that you don’t own and refusing to leave, or well…squatting (again, NSFW internet search)

And of course all the usual ones:

• Tomato Sauce = Ketchup
• Softdrink = Pop
• Mince = Ground Beef
• Vegemite = Eww, that’s so gross! How can you eat that stuff?

But no matter what else you take away from this post, please remember this: You can’t say can’t in Canada!

Here’s a tip for you

Now, it might be because I’ve grown up in Australia, but I’ve never really understood the whole tipping thing. And since I’m getting older and grumpier, here’s a general alert for all those American and Canadians workers who I’m sure I’ll come across in the next couple of years – I ain’t gonna learn just for you.

In Australia, as a waitress, you get paid by your boss to take someone’s order and bring them food and drink.  In USA, you get paid by your boss to do the same thing and then you want me to pay you because you did your job? Not gonna happen buddy! Especially not gonna happen at 20% of my bill. Maybe…if you’re lucky and save my life when I start choking on my dessert, then I might leave you a tip.

And most importantly, don’t get snippy if you don’t like my tip – I’ll just take it back. You should be thankful that I even remembered to leave you something for doing nothing over and above what you are expected to do anyway.

And giving you money for opening a drink in a bar, open top of what I’ve paid for it?? Seriously? Hand over the bottle and I’ll open it myself and save myself some money. Unless I’m ordering a 6 nip cocktail with umbrellas and a twirly straw, don’t expect any extra.

And most importantly (and yes, well-known restaurant franchise, I’m looking at you!) don’t sit down at my table to take my order. My table is for my party and me. Not you. You are paid to stand up and deliver my food and drink, not sit down and get all buddy-buddy with us.

And since I’m on a roll…taxi drivers! Why the heck are you getting tipped? You don’t help me with my bags and you either ask me the way or just follow your GPS. Apart from grunting in my direction when I ask you how your day is, what do I get from you that I can’t get from a robot or a well trained monkey? And actually, I’d probably get the same level of conversation from a monkey.

I may not have the highest expectations for customer service, but I do expect at least a minimum of professionalism. Don’t roll your eyes at me when I ask about a meal; don’t pop your gum within my hearing, in fact don’t chew gum while you’re working at all; if I ask for something, bring it to me. It’s really quite simple and I can shorten it to three simple words: DO YOUR JOB!

The Joys of Unemployment

For the first time since 2008, I have found myself unemployed, but don’t despair, I’m not heartbroken and stressed about how to pay the bills, in fact, I’ve decided to take a leaf out of the Monty Python play book and look on the bright side of unemployment life.

• No alarm clock in the morning;
• Post lunch naps;
• Post breakfast naps;
• Daytime TV – Reruns of Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman is on weekday mornings at 9am;
• Clothing is optional, you can stay in your pjs all day if you want to;
• No fighting the rest of the office block for a parking space if you happen to be ten minutes later than normal;
• No having to get there 20 minutes before everyone else so you don’t have to fight people for a parking space;
• Midweek grocery shopping, you don’t have to wait for the weekend or after work to pick up something to eat;
• No Sunday afternoon panic to find enough work outfits for the week ahead;
• You can do the washing when you feel like it, and hang it out when you want to (provided these things to not take place 3 days apart);
• You don’t have to fight with anyone over the last of the softdrink in the work fridge;
• Even if you are the only person in the house, you don’t have to answer the phone if you don’t feel like;
• When you discover the salad dressing is still sitting on the bench at home when you’re ready to have lunch, all you need to do is walk 2 metres to te bench and get it, you don’t have to eat dry salad;
• The stash of chocolate is bigger at home and you don’t have to share it;

I’m sure there will be many more things that can be added to this list as time goes on, but since I’ve only been officially unemployed for a day and a half, I don’t think I’m doing to badly!

You’re Nicked!

Two good things happened in 1983 – I was born and The Bill went to air. Sadly, in 2010, I am the only one left. The Saturday night staple that Australian’s watched for 27 years finally came to an end. There’s no more Crazy Cathy, no more Smithy, no more Tosh or June Ackland. It’s rather like saying goodbye to member of your family or a good friend. And to be honest, The Bill has been in my life for longer than some of my friends.

Who can forget the wonderful memories of Polly, falling in love with Dave only to have him marry someone else? And then watch her get arrested for assisting a suicide and come back to Sun Hill as a civilian? Or Bobbie Cryer, niece of Bob Cryer (yup, very original character names), with that familiar nose.

Or Psycho Debbie, who seduced Tom Chandler, got pregnant with his child, blackmailed him into marriage to forward her career and then played the grieving widow when he died.

Or Frank Burnside – who was so popular that he got his own spin off.

Or Detective Don Beech, the bad seed of Sun Hill. Convicted of murdering his colleague and then fleeing to Australia only to be blown up in the middle of Sydney Habour.

Speaking of explosions, who could forget the massive boom that rocked the station, killing all those officers and marking the start of the June and Jim era. On again, off again, married, divorced, on again, gambling addiction, alcoholism – their relationship had it all. And then it was done. And no, it wasn’t their legs on the opening credits.

Who would have thought way back when Jim Carver first arrived at Sun Hill as a Probationary Constable in Wooden Top that billions of people would fall in love with those characters? How could you not love Reg Hollis? Jack Meadows? Tony Stamp? Mickey Webb? Gina Gold?

And who could forget those characters that you just wanted to kill off? Gabriel Kent? Jim Carver’s second wife? Des Tavner? Kerry and Luke, who eventually divorced after Luke slept with Craig the night before the wedding.

And now for perhaps the saddest part of all…I didn’t have to double check any of these names or situations to write this post. I remember when Gina was diagnosed with cancer and didn’t want anyone to know. I remember when Zain turned evil and killed off Honey. I remember when Cass got killed by the serial killer Simon Whatshisface (My bad – It was Simon’s sister Pat – Thanks Lex!). I remember all this because I am a loser loyal viewer.

Well, I was – up until a year or so ago when the producers decided to make The Bill edgy. Why? What was wrong with it that you needed to get rid of Overkill, the theme that everyone knew and replace it with a whole load of blah music like every other show on TV? What was wrong with veteran characters that were the reason so many people tuned in? And seriously? What was with those ridiculous camera angles and the sudden inclusion of Eddie, the forensic know it all that did everything?

There was no need to suddenly try and compete against CSI. If we wanted edgy science-based storylines we would have stopped watching years ago. And now, because of those ill-fated decisions, we’ve had no choice but to stop watching.

To the actors and actresses of The Bill who have entertained me since before I can remember, I thank you for your dedication. To the crew of The Bill who filmed and edited for all those years, I thank you for your hard work. To the producers and the production company who jumped the shark and ruined a perfectly good show, get nicked!

You have no talent. Get off the stage and stop deluding yourself.

This is a general call out to most people who have ever thought about auditioning on any talent show in any country in the world. And please know I mean this in the nicest possible way. You have no talent. Get off the stage and stop deluding yourself. This is for the greater good of the world.

There will only ever be one William Hung. No matter how badly you sing or dance, you will never be as successful a reject as him. So unless you are going to shock the world and become another Susan Boyle (or at least stand a chance of getting into the top 1000 – no, that’s not a typo, I meant one thousand) don’t even bother. Don’t waste your time and most especially – don’t waste mine!

If I tune in to watch Australia’s Got Talent, then I want to see some goddamn talent!

If I watch Australian Idol, I want to hear a voice that I could possibly idolise.

So you think you can dance? Does anyone else think so?

And while I’m on the topic of reality shows that waste my time…let me have a go at the editors who cut and splice the scenes together and who never learnt to tell the time.

If your program is scheduled for 60 minutes, including commercials, why am I still watching it 75 minutes after it started? What’s that? It’s because you need to show all three judges reactions to every single act? Well, let’s make your life a lot easier – you don’t.

All you need is the act itself, the judges vote and perhaps for really really really exceptional acts, the crowd’s reaction to them making it through. That’s it. That’s all you need.

And unless you are filling the entire show with bad acts, you really don’t need anyone who recognised themselves in the first part of this post.

To the people who pick the acts of perform in these talent shows – especially if there are limited spots – make sure the majority of people will be entertained by them. Most people do not want to see an overweight middle-aged woman with blacked out teeth do the dance of the seven veils. That’s not just my opinion. That is a fact.

If you are going for the cuteness factor with children, please for all that is holy, at least give them some sort of talent.

As you can probably tell, I have a few problems with reality shows and talent shows. It’s possible that this is because I know my limits of my singing and dancing and I just don’t understand how some people can be so deluded by their lack of talent.

Or perhaps it’s because every reality show that has ever been shown has done nothing but re-enforce the fact that people will do anything to get on tv and that producers and directors will let them. Personally, I’ll just stick to writing my blog – that’s all the attention I need.

You’ve Gone Too Far This Time

Over the years I have put up with a lot of changes in the world of professional wrestling – some I agree with, and others I don’t. I try to understand the motivation behind these changes before I pass judgement on the people involved but I’d afraid to say, this time they’ve gone too far.

I understand that sometimes the public outcry towards wrestling is too much to handle and companies have to bow to the wishes of the loud annoying few, instead of the many, but no one…I repeat NO ONE has the right to censor Stone Cold Steve Austin.

His gimmick is a bad ass, oops, sorry…his gimmick is a bad *beep*. His catchphrase involves whooping *beep*. He’s crude, he’s rude and that’s how we like him. So imagine how awesome it was to see him as the Guest General Manager of WWE Raw last week after years out of the ring.

Picture this…His music starts and the crowd goes wild. He strides to the ring with his cocky attitude (can I say cocky or will that get beeped as well?) and grabs a microphone. Millions of fans are watching on TV, watching and waiting for that one phrase that every Stone Cold fan knows. He lifts the microphone to his lips and says…

“I’m here to *beep* *beep*”

Wait…what? He’s here to do what? What the hell just happened to the sound? Why did they beep Steve Austin?

And then it hit me. Some stupid helicopter parent saw their pwecious widdle child watching wrestling and didn’t like it, so they demanded that it stop being so violent and make it family friendly. Well, you know what? You people can go get *beep*.

There are some things in life that aren’t going to be children-friendly. Wrestling is one of them. There’s blood, there’s violence and yes, there’s sometimes adult language that your angel shouldn’t listen to. How about you don’t let them watch it and leave it alone for the adult fans?

Oh, that’s right. There’s no blood anymore. Some one was offended and got all the blood removed. I’m shocked that they still let the females in the ring. Surely they could find something offensive about that? Ladies aren’t violent perhaps? Will they start complaining about intergender tag matches next? A real man shouldn’t be hitting a woman?

Get real! It’s fake. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. Professional wrestling is fake. If you don’t like the messages that it conveys, perhaps you could turn the TV off and watching it. Stop ruining it for everyone else because you can’t tell your child no!

There is nothing entertaining about watching two people in the ring, knowing that there will be no blood, no foul language and now no head shots with a chair!

That’s something else WWE have done away with – intentional head shots with a metal chair. Which leads to the debate…exactly what is not intentional about picking up a metal chair and smashing it into your opponent’s head? What’s next? No more title belts? They can be used as a weapon. No more tables? No more ladders? As long as he’s married to the boss’s daughter, you can bet that Triple H will keep his sledge hammer.

Usually I would have kept quiet about all these changes, except that this time the helicopter parents in the “everything must be family-friendly brigade” picked on Stone Cold Steve Austin. They picked on him and his *beep*…and that’s just something you don’t do.

And that’s the bottom line, because Lulupop said so!

How Stupid Are You?

It seems that I’ve been saying that a lot lately and I’m sure it’s not just me. There’s probably a million different situations where you’ve thought it, so I thought I’d share the top 5 that had me thinking “what exactly were you thinking, you dumbass?”

1. Children and Facebook. Parents complaining about their 10 or 11 year old child getting inappropriate messages through Facebook. Really? You let your 10 year old get a Facebook page when the terms and conditions CLEARLY say that they should be 13 or older? Not that I’m on the side of the creepy messages, but really? How about you stand up to your kid and just say no for once? No ten year old needs to have their own Facebook page.  And don’t even get me started on eight year olds with their own mobile phone!

2. Travel Insurance. You go backpacking in a third world country and DON’T get travel insurance? Seriously? And then you want the government to help you when you get injured or sick? How about spending that extra couple of hundred and getting insurance so you don’t have to beg the government to airlift you out of some backwater that everyone told you not to visit? Here’s an idea. Make travel insurance compulsory so we don’t have to deal with idiots like you.

3. Surprise Pregnancies. If you have sex and don’t use any birth control, it can create a baby. It’s not that hard to understand, is it?

4. Naked Photos. If someone takes a naked photo of you, do you really think they’re going to keep it to themselves? Especially if you become famous? Did you really think that it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands? Really? Did you? And more importantly, why on earth did you not delete the photo when you found out they had taken it? Did it never occur to you that they might pass it around? And videoing yourself having sex? What did you think would happen when you broke up? That they were just going to record over it?

5. Flood Waters. If the road is closed and not even the 18-wheeler is attempting to cross the flooded road, what on God’s green earth makes you think your little Mazda is going to make it? What part of ROAD CLOSED do you not understand? Either find another way or suck it up and wait it out. But stop putting other people’s lives at risk when your car gets swept away and you need to be rescued! That’s just selfish and stupid.

And there you have it, my top 5 “what the hell were you thinking? You really can’t be that stupid, can you?”. Perhaps this list may help people think a little before they make those stupid important decisions. Or then again, maybe not…

Vague-booking: The New Cry For Attention

I learnt a new word today “vague-booking”. According to the Urban Dictionary it means “an intentionally vague Facebook status update, that prompts friends to ask what’s going on…” Personally, I think it’s a fancy word that’s means you just want attention.

Now I know that even I have been guilty of vague-booking in the past and I apologise for it, but some people seem to make a professional career out of it. A popular example of vague-booking:

Person A…is  upset.

This leads to people to ask why is Person A upset. Person A then replies oh, I can’t talk about it, but I’m sooooo upset. Which gives Person A even more attention than before, because it must be bad if they can’t talk about it, right?

That’s an example of vague-booking. And that’s one of my pet peeves. Seriously, if you don’t want to give details, don’t mention it. AT ALL. Don’t drop hints that something horrible has happened and then get pissed off that no one asks what’s wrong. Or worse, get upset that everyone asks you what’s wrong.

If you decide to put it out there, that’s your choice. But don’t get mad when you do it repeatedly and people catch on to your little cries for attention and don’t give you any. Most people have a limit to how much sympathy they can give a person before it’s all gone. Weekly cries for attention quickly add up and soon there is nothing left for when something bad actually does happen.

Even worse than vague-booking is the other popular status of “…is cleaning out their friends. Sorry if you don’t make the cut.”

Now, really. If you have so many friends that you need to announce that you have too many, someone is a little insecure. Why do people feel the need to announce that you aren’t good enough to be their friend anymore? What ever happened to just quietly deleting them and then getting on with your life?

Is announcing that you’re getting rid of some people just another attempt at getting more attention? Do you think that people are suddenly going to come out of the woodwork and beg to keep your friendship? Really? Do you really think that you’re THAT important in the overall scheme of things?

I have no doubt that some people are reading this, shaking their heads at me, but truthfully, this needed to be said. The vague-bookers out there may not know it, but they are driving away all their friends and by the time they get around to Stage Two: The Defriending Message, they may find that there’s not too many people left to defriend. We would have taken care of that ourselves.

Of course, this could also lead to a mass defriending of Lulu…but don’t worry, I promise not to post how upset I am and then refuse to talk about it.

Dear Airline

Dear Airlines and Travel Insurance Agents,

This letter is to announce (to an unsurprised world) that you suck. That’s right. I said it. You all suck. Of the 4 airlines I am using these holidays, three of you have changed my flights. One of you has changed the same flight twice. The only airline that has not changed my times is currently threatening strike action.

Let’s go back to the very beginning of this saga…*insert wavy lined dream sequence and music* I booked my flights at the beginning of April. In fact, I got an excellent deal on them with a hefty discount if I paid for them before a certain date. I paid before that date and got the discount. Yay for me.

My original plan was to fly from Hometown to Brisbane to Los Angeles and then finally into Ontario. That would have been about 20 hours flight time, plus a few extra hours in between flights. I was to leave on a Sunday, which would get me into Ontario on the Monday morning.

The first email I received from International Airline (who shall totally remain nameless as they are “Australian’s newest international airline” <– (google that line) and I really don’t want to hurt their reputation ;-P) announced they were changing my return flight from Los Angeles to Brisbane. We were now leaving about 20 minutes later than I had originally booked. That was fine. I can handle that. I can handle the 9 and a half hour wait between flights in the Los Angeles International Airport. Can’t I?

The second email I received from International Airline (still the same one) announced that they didn’t want to fly directly from Brisbane to Los Angeles, so they were going to add in a stop at Sydney. Hope that’s okay with you….Yeah, it’s not. By the time I would have landed in LA, my next flight would have been in the air for over an hour. What a dilemma! What could I do?

So I took the free change they offered and decided to leave on the Saturday instead. This still wasn’t a direct flight – they weren’t available. I still have to fly out of Sydney.

Remember those 20 hours TOTAL flying time? It’s now turned into about 16 hours and I’m only just getting to Los Angeles.

And right about now is where I bring in the travel insurance. That flight I booked for the Sunday to get me to the International Flight? It has to be changed to the Saturday. Not to worry, it’s with the domestic branch of Irritating International Airline. I won’t be charged to change my schedule, right? Oh, I will be? But it’s not my fault. You don’t care? Yes, you’re right. It does suck to be me at the moment.

Could I claim the fees on my travel insurance? Really? How kind and wonderful these travel insurance agents are!….What’s that travel insurance agents? Denied? But it’s clearly not my fault. I even gave you the letter that says it’s Irritating International Airline’s fault…Fine…Be that way!

But what about the hotel that I need to stay in when I get to Los Angeles because of the flight changes that Irritating International Airline made? Oh, you won’t pay for that either? So I was spent $400 insuring myself against these types of charges for nothing? Yes, I see. It does suck to be me. Thank for enlarging the small print where it says the you won’t pay for anything unless a rhino and two albino monkeys were present at the scene, the incident took place in a war zone during an unscheduled stop over and the pilot has green eyes and a hump.

Email number three from now REALLY Irritating International Airline. Remember that first email that we sent you? We’ve changed it again. I now get to spend 10 hours in LAX. How much fun can one person have? No really – how much fun? I think I’m reaching my limit.

To take my mind off these things, I decide to check my other flights from Los Angeles to Ontario. Wait…those times are different to what I’ve booked. Why have my times changed? Oh, that’s just something that you do? Why wasn’t I notified about the changes? Oh, that’s something that you don’t do? Lucky me! Let’s just hope you don’t decide to cancel these flights, shall we sweetheart? I’m not very happy traveller when I keep getting SCREWED OVER BY AIRLINES!

Not to worry, I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s only a month away. What could possibly happen in a month?

Ring ring…ring ring…Miss Lulu? It’s overly happy travel agent here. Just checking that you were aware of the changes to your flights.

Disgruntled Miss Lulu: What changes?!?!?!

OHTA: Changing your flight from Hometown to Brisbane from the Sunday to the Saturday. We’ve just had an email come through about them.

Me: Yes, I knew about those changes. They’re the same changes I was forced to make by Irritating International Airline in order to make their flight. Thank you for letting me know…(and almost giving me a heart attack!)

And so I wait for the next email or phone…

I wasn’t waiting long.

Email number four. This time from the other Overly Happy Travel Agent. Just confirming those schedule changes….that I confirmed over the phone the week before…that I had confirmed and reconfirmed when I had first had to make them. Let’s just say…I was already aware of the changes.

And so the time draws closer. In under 48 hours I will on my way. And let me just issue this warning to Really Irritating International Airline and all its staff and my fellow passengers…

If I get one more flight change in the next two days, I am going to borrow a pair of crutches and fake an injury. I am going to force your staff to wheel me around the airports, carry my bags and pretty much treat me like a queen. And when I reach my final destination, I will make a miracle recovery and jump up from the wheelchair and run away. And I will do the same thing on the way home.

And you know what else? Every meal I’ve been eating this week has involved either onions, cabbage or garlic. I suggest you make sure those oxygen masks are working before take off.

Thank you for your excellent customer service that you seem to demonstrate each and every time I have dealt with you regarding this holiday. I hope that we never have to deal with each other again.

Kind regards,

Lulupop