Get out

I have got to get out more. Last night I got a pocket call from Dad's phone clearly made by my mum but the phone obviously was not in her pocket because she left a voicemail in which I could extremely clearly hear both sides of a conversation between her and K's mum that they must have been having on Mum's phone.

I only listened for a few seconds of course. Obviously it was a mistake and although the conversation was only about them trying to arrange a meeting it did feel a little weird and pervy listening. There was something a little David Lynch about the experience. Like how could Mum accidentally call me when she must have been just sitting around at home and the offending phone clearly wasn't in a pocket? How do you even do a pocket dial from an iPhone that requires a passcode? And why could I clearly hear both sides of the conversation when I know my  mum wouldn't use speaker phone, I believe her hearing makes it unfavourable. Then whole thing is so mysterious I started writing a blog post about it this morning until I realised that it was also so boring. It may seem Lynchian to me but in truth i know it was just an accident. No dwarf conspiring to creep me out here. But life is pretty small when you have a tiny baby and I can't keep on writing about the US election. And I really didn't want to bore you with complaints of a back so sore it even hurts to sneeze.

And so I make this pledge to you, readers, I'm going to get out! See the world! Have something interesting to say! And I'm going to do it by Thursday! And then regularly! As long as my back gets better!

Call for friendship (AM)

When I came home from Brisbane the other night, I encountered some frustrations.

First, I left my phone in the toilet at the Qantas domestic terminal, and didn't discover this fact until I was in the cab on the way home. 

Luckily, I had my work phone with me, so I called my regular phone a few times and before I knew it, someone answered. It was Tasmin, a woman who cleaned the bathrooms in the Qantas domestic terminal. She had found my phone and was going to take care of it until I got there. 

Hooray! I thought. Problem almost solved! 

I told the cab driver to turn around and instead, he pulled over to the side of the road and because it was a rainy night, we immediately got bogged in the mud. 

This was the second frustration. 

The cab driver tried and tried to get us out but as with all boggings, the more you try to escape, the more bogged you get. 

So there I was, stuck in a cab that was stuck in the mud on a rainy Tuesday night. 

I'll spare you the details but suffice to say, cab drivers get very distressed when they get bogged and pretty soon, they start looking for someone to blame, someone who may or may not be sitting in the back of their cab. 

Happily, it wasn't long before another cab met me by the side of the road and whisked me away from the original cab driver and his cries of  "Great, now you're just going to leave me here...". 

Hooray! I thought. Problem almost solved!

When I got to the airport, I went to the toilets at the Qantas domestic terminal and called my phone to arrange the handover, as per the agreement with Tasmin. Like a genie in a bottle, she emerged - young and smiley and sweet and holding my phone out to me. I was so relieved and I asked her "How can I thank you?" thinking maybe she would let me buy her a cake from the nearby Gloria Jeans or something.

She said "It was my pleasure. But I put my number in your phone in case you want to call for friendship."

Um, come again Tasmin? Call for friendship? That's not the sound of a cake from  Gloria Jeans.
I said some things like "oh sure"and "well, I'd better get back on the road" and awkwardly scurried off while she pushed her trolley of cleaning equipment back in to the toilets.
In the cab on the way home I thought about Tasmin a a lot, and felt bad for her.
Maybe she is lonely and wants to make friends?
Then I started to worry about the content on my phone...what had she seen? What had she done?
I opened the photos app and found this.

The montage of photos that Pickle took that night J, Pickle and I went to David Jones to try on clothes we would never ever buy. That's the photo she had scrolled to and enlarged so she could get a better look at all the photos of us (seriously). 

I chuckled at the photos. That was a really fun night. 

And then Tasmin's request to call for friendship made sense. 

Who wouldn't want to try on spectacularly ugly pretty clothes at DJs with us? 

You're not doing it right, brain! (AM)

Hey! Guys! How was everyone's weekend? Mine was pretty good thanks.

When I woke up on Sunday morning I was really excited about a post I was going to write for you. It was early and I was just waking up and remembering how earlier in the weekend I'd been taking notes in my Miss Soft Crab notebook and been really excited about this thing that had happened. For you guys. But you know, it was early so I had to think about the weekend to figure out what it was. And then it came to me.

The night before I had been sitting in a room, this really non-descript room and a friend was sitting next to me and a bunch of guys walked in and I realised one of them was Donnie Wahlberg! I know! Marky Mark's brother! I love Marky Mark! And I said to my friend, "Gee Donnie Wahlberg looks really sad." And then the guy in front of me turned around and it was Danny from New Kids on the Block! And it turned out that the non-descript room I was in was about to be the venue for a NKOTB show and we were just sitting right there by the stage! Anyway, Danny from NKOTB said, "Yeah, Donnie's just been two-timed on." Then he laughed like it was really funny and told me that Donnie was hanging out with one of the dancers but he was still really sad. And THAT is when I took out my special notebook, because I could not fucking believe what was going on and that I would have such a good post for you guys today. All this inside gossip on New Kids on the Block that Danny NKOTB seemed to be throwing around so freely! Sure, who gives a shit about those guys, right? Not me, but what a great story!

I guess you see where this is going. When I remembered all these details on Sunday morning it eventually dawned on me that my great experience had been a dream and I'd have fuck all for you guys today.

The weird thing is that when I was young and NKOTB were big I didn't even like them. I NEVER EVEN LIKED THEM! When I saw they were touring here earlier this year with the Backstreet Boys, the only thoughts I had about it were "Ha! NKOTBSB!" and "Weren't those bands hot, like, 10 years apart? Surely there is no cross-over fan base." That is all you guys. Those are the only thoughts I had. And then I had a dream about them. Perhaps I shouldn't be putting this out there like that. Perhaps it says more about my subconscious than I should be admitting.

The only explanation I can think of is that Marky Mark is never too far from my subconscious, but being a subconscious and all, it's tricky about how it works so it sent me Donnie Wahlberg instead. Also, I ate a fair bit of cheese on Saturday.

Thanks for nothing, subconscious.