29 March 2005
Today
Today I ...
Woke up to my boyfriend's alarm (not that he is realy my boyfriend, but for the sake of simplicity, he falls into this category) so that we could have breakfast at a funky cafe called Pandemonium. We sat down in missmatched furniture deemed "retro". This term is a fascade to the reality that these chairs most probably came from the clean-out-your-trash piles that accumulate on Brisbane footpaths about once a year. The 20-minute omlete was delicious, but I am a little suspicious of the mushy tomato that tasted like the mush was an intrinsic part of it's state of decay, rather than the tenderness of it's cooking.
After breakfast I returned "Existenz" to the video shop and headed out to Nana's house to take her clothes shopping. Nana's dilema is that she is a spritely size 10 and all of the old lady clothes are made for fattys. Conversely, all the size 10 clothes are for little scrumpets who just wanna party. I convinced Nana that the op shops would be the way to go. After taking her all over Stone's Corner, in both old and new shops, we returned home empty handed. That is, except for one small surfer chick bag with the label "Bad Girl". Nana needed a small bag for when she did her daily hour long walk, and this brightly floral printed number seemed to be appropriate at the smart price of $1. I assured her that "Bad Girl" didn't really mean that you were a slut and that all the boys would not be chasing after her. She decided to texter out the label anyway.
After grabbing some things out of Nana storage, like my stereo, dvd player, vacuum cleaner, box full of my clay sculptures (aliens, DJs, amorphous blobs etc), roller blades, Soul II Soul tracksuit, and a box full of cleaning products, I headed home. My seering headache was quashed by the time the 2 Panadienes kicked in at about 3pm. I picked up my mail from the post box while illegally parked in Adelaide St. I dropped off my library book at QUT. I unpacked the car and then proceded to vacuum my space, set up my stereo, unpack and arrange my artwork, and put all the boxes away under the house.
Then I finally set to work on some homework consisting of reading about "Power dressing" for our group assignment on tattoos. Even though the selected topic is tattoos, I have gone off on my own tangent and have decided to report on "covering up tattoos". I hope our group will accept this, else I have read a whole book for nothing.
It is my turn to cook tonight, and my headache has come back with avengence. Whilst trying to relax on my bed and read about the Star Trek fashions, I come to the conclusion that - I need rest. Real rest. Not trying to read and rest before dinner prep. Alas my brain only throbs harder. I pop another 2 panadienes and jump in the shower.
Again the power of this drug amazes me and I am off straight to the kitchen to chop onion and garlic (both powerful headache triggers for me). After dinner I head back down to the newly converted Funky Lounge that is where this week's engagement party chill space will be. I have to prepare another set of music, for I am going to DJ for the early part of the evening. I realise this will take a-whole-nother day to organize and push it to the back of my mind. I try to return to the tattoo topic but ... I am compelled to let the world know how blood tiresome my life is. This is a typical day for me. Constantly busy doing stuff and never having time to just kick back and ... say... watch TV.
No mater. It's back to the powerdressing genderbending 80's for me now for the next couple of hours. I have 800 words to write in the next 40 hours. If only they could just drop out of my mouth like this day has dropped out of my mind here now.
Woke up to my boyfriend's alarm (not that he is realy my boyfriend, but for the sake of simplicity, he falls into this category) so that we could have breakfast at a funky cafe called Pandemonium. We sat down in missmatched furniture deemed "retro". This term is a fascade to the reality that these chairs most probably came from the clean-out-your-trash piles that accumulate on Brisbane footpaths about once a year. The 20-minute omlete was delicious, but I am a little suspicious of the mushy tomato that tasted like the mush was an intrinsic part of it's state of decay, rather than the tenderness of it's cooking.
After breakfast I returned "Existenz" to the video shop and headed out to Nana's house to take her clothes shopping. Nana's dilema is that she is a spritely size 10 and all of the old lady clothes are made for fattys. Conversely, all the size 10 clothes are for little scrumpets who just wanna party. I convinced Nana that the op shops would be the way to go. After taking her all over Stone's Corner, in both old and new shops, we returned home empty handed. That is, except for one small surfer chick bag with the label "Bad Girl". Nana needed a small bag for when she did her daily hour long walk, and this brightly floral printed number seemed to be appropriate at the smart price of $1. I assured her that "Bad Girl" didn't really mean that you were a slut and that all the boys would not be chasing after her. She decided to texter out the label anyway.
After grabbing some things out of Nana storage, like my stereo, dvd player, vacuum cleaner, box full of my clay sculptures (aliens, DJs, amorphous blobs etc), roller blades, Soul II Soul tracksuit, and a box full of cleaning products, I headed home. My seering headache was quashed by the time the 2 Panadienes kicked in at about 3pm. I picked up my mail from the post box while illegally parked in Adelaide St. I dropped off my library book at QUT. I unpacked the car and then proceded to vacuum my space, set up my stereo, unpack and arrange my artwork, and put all the boxes away under the house.
Then I finally set to work on some homework consisting of reading about "Power dressing" for our group assignment on tattoos. Even though the selected topic is tattoos, I have gone off on my own tangent and have decided to report on "covering up tattoos". I hope our group will accept this, else I have read a whole book for nothing.
It is my turn to cook tonight, and my headache has come back with avengence. Whilst trying to relax on my bed and read about the Star Trek fashions, I come to the conclusion that - I need rest. Real rest. Not trying to read and rest before dinner prep. Alas my brain only throbs harder. I pop another 2 panadienes and jump in the shower.
Again the power of this drug amazes me and I am off straight to the kitchen to chop onion and garlic (both powerful headache triggers for me). After dinner I head back down to the newly converted Funky Lounge that is where this week's engagement party chill space will be. I have to prepare another set of music, for I am going to DJ for the early part of the evening. I realise this will take a-whole-nother day to organize and push it to the back of my mind. I try to return to the tattoo topic but ... I am compelled to let the world know how blood tiresome my life is. This is a typical day for me. Constantly busy doing stuff and never having time to just kick back and ... say... watch TV.
No mater. It's back to the powerdressing genderbending 80's for me now for the next couple of hours. I have 800 words to write in the next 40 hours. If only they could just drop out of my mouth like this day has dropped out of my mind here now.
