Day 2 of our Queensland Adventure

Everybody woke up at the crack of dawn virtually (probably mostly because the sun rises at a ridiculous time in Queensland and was blaring through the windows!)

We went down and explored all the areas of the Sandy Point resort. We checked out the gym, the pool room, the pool, spas, sauna, tennis court, bbq areas and whatever else we could find. Then we USED the pool, outdoor spa and sauna where everyone got a little massage - except me:-(

Then we went back up to our room and the girls took AGES to get ready to go out. I mean AGES.

We went for a walk around the surrounding areas. Our resort was located along the front of the Braodwater inlet and there are some pretty swish hotels around there. We had a look through the restaurants and walked along the foreshore where there was a sandbar that created a nice little swimming pool.

Then we headed out to Pacific Fair (Or as Jarrad kept saying Pacific Affair). We all split up in there so the girls could kinda do their own thing (shopping) and we could just mosey around at leisure. We found a great lolly shop that stocked a whole bunch of English stuff which was cool.

It seemed like we had to wait ages for the girls to come back before we could have lunch.  In our frustration we began torturing Jett Bear. There were several fun methods of doing this, but nothing quite so brilliant as the following:

We came upon a life sized fiberglass elephant. Amy put Jett on top of it and took a photo. 

Then Michael, in a moment of pure genius, grabbed the bear, went behind the elephant and shoved it up it's backside. One of the funniest things I've ever seen is half a teddy bear sticking out the back of an Elephant's butt. Kudos to you Mike!

 

We met up altogether for lunch in a very nice food court that had pretty much everything so lunch was very satisfying. We pretty much stuck together after that and went back to the lolly shop and also the the popcorn stand where we picked up some great flavoured popcorn (Buffalo Wings and Double Butterscotch).

Then we just did some grocery shopping and headed home!

That night we met up with Steve and Leo at the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner. 

Steve was very keen to show off his "I Love Dad" temporary tattoo, whilst Leo sported an Elvis one. Needless to say after dinner everyone piled into the temporary tattoo place to get one of their own (I did not, owing to the fact that I already have a REAL one because I'm much tougher than those guys!).

A few of us also checked out Infinity, which was very cool. It's basically a maze and you have to go through all these rooms which have different things in them like lasers, mirrors, a psychedelic wall etc. Very cool and lots of fun.

And that was pretty much the end of our second day!

Day 1 of our Queensland Adventure

 A few years ago a group of us went on a Queensland holiday - very exciting.  At the time I wrote a daily account of what we did and posted it on facebook. I have decided to post it here after some spurring on by a friend who has enjoyed my other posts, and following on from positive comments from readers at the time of the original posts.  

So here is day 1:

So, we got to Jarrad and Janet's at about 12 because even though our flight was not until 4pm, the girls wanted to get there in plenty of time. I was just glad to have soemthing to do because it was HOT! 47 degrees!

On the way up we saw the smoke from the beginnings of the Black Saturday bush fires which was very intense.

Amy and Leah as first time flyers were very funny. They were quite nervous and Janet almost peed her pants with laughter on the take off! Very cruisy flight although Virgin Blue are just lecherous with those little tv's in the seats and then charging you 5 bucks for every 20mins you want to watch it!!

One of our friends had given us this teddy bear to take with us called Jett Bear who she gives to people when they go on holidays so that he has travelled the world.  Why she would give us such a thing when she knows I am going on the trip and will obviously do something terrible to it remains a mystery, but nonetheless he came along.

Arrived very smoothly in Queensland in the evening to lovely warm weather. We got our car, a clapped out old station wagon with a very un-nerving exhaust rattle, and headed off to our apartment. About 5 minutes out of Surfer's we get a phone call from the airport informing us that they have my wallet (It must have fallen out of my pocket on the plane), so we head BACK to the airport to get it.

We finally get to the apartment and from the outside we are quite unimpressed. Late check in means we have to go through an Amazing Race style series of clues and tasks to get the key, but we manage to get in. Walking through the hallways of the place, we are again a tad disappointed, but once we get in the room (very spacious and nice), we feel a little better.

And so once we're in, we decide it's probably a good time to go and get some food.

We make a list of what we need and head off to the supermarket.

But it's closed

And it's only 7.00pm!!!!!

So we head further down the road towards a large shopping centre where there are TWO supermarkets.

But when we get in the car park, straight away an alarm goes off. We ask a passing cleaner if we did something to set it off, but she unconcernedly informs us it is a fire alarm and sure enough when we exit the car park, fire trucks pull up all over the place.

Starving by this point we head back up the road to KFC to get something to eat. It was the most disgusting KFC I have ever visited. Dirty, feral people, feral staff and the food was indescribable!

We head back to the supermarkets and guess what? They're BOTH closed!! Turns out everything shuts at 5.30 on a Saturday in QLD. So we head into Surfer's Paradise to try and find something there.

We eventually stumble on an IGA where everything seems to cost $10 more per item than it would anywhere else. We are appalled and so just buy enough stuff for breakfast and then head home.

Back in our apartment, exhausted from our series of calamities, we hang out on the balconies and check out the great views (although it's dark by this point). All exhausted and tired we head for bed, I'm sure all hoping that tomorrow will be much better!

The Single Man's Laundry Cycle

I lived on my own for quite a long time in a little unit in Lara which I loved.  It was the perfect sized place for a single guy, easy to maintain and keep clean, great for entertaining (everyone loved a good roof party)  and had great acoustics for the many rock concerts I put on for a highly appreciative audience ie. - my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I thrived in this place and it became a central meeting place for our little social circle.

I remember once that a friend of mine commented how amazing it was that I "did everything" when it came time for me to mow the lawn.  I think because I cooked, cleaned, entertained, mowed the lawns, put the bins out and all the other things one does when living independently, she was impressed. As I pointed out to her though, if I didn't do those things, who would.

However, as impressive as it may seem, there was one area that I feel let me down (and to be honest, still does)

Laundry.

I'm rubbish at it.  I've tried to stay on top of it, but because of my  come-and-go lifestyle it is an extremely difficult task to do so.  These days, I have quite literally given up on it, and when I finally realise I have nothing to wear, it's much easier to pop in to K-mart and pick up a cheap t-shirt, or pair of pants than have to go through the rigmarole of my laundry cycle.

You see, my laundry cycle is extremely complex and, well, long.  It's not something one can accomplish on a sunny Sunday arvo, but in fact spans weeks, if not months.

I've named it "The Single Man's Laundry Cycle" and it goes like this:

Step 1)  When you can no longer see carpet, nor open your bedroom door owing to the inordinate amount of clothing overflowing from your laundry hamper, then it's time to wash your clothes.

Step 2)  Slough off the top level of your laundry hamper (or alternately gather up everything that is on the floor) and place it in the washing machine. Don't worry about separating darks, lights, fabrics etc. 'cause we're doing all this on a cold wash, so it won't matter what you do.)

Step 3) Turn on washing machine

Step 4) Approximately three (3) days later, return to washing machine and rinse washed clothes that are starting to develop mould on them.

Step 5) Place all socks and jocks into the tumble dryer, you don't need to waste precious clothesline space or pegs on those, and hang out everything else.  Repeat the process from step 2.

Step 6) With two loads of washing on the line and 2 loads of socks and jocks in the dryer, your work is practically done.  Congratulate yourself as you turn on the dryer and take your laundry basket, still approximately two-thirds full back to your bedroom.  Doing another load would be pointless at this point as there is no room, nor time, to dry it properly, but you'll do some more tomorrow when you've brought all the dry laundry in.

Step 7) Every morning, go to the tumble dryer to collect only the socks and jocks that you need for that day. You don't need to bring the rest in.  (In my case, the dryer was actually out in the shed, so I had to go out everyday, rain or shine, to collect the things I needed)

Step 8) Approximately 6 weeks later, your two loads of laundry are still on the line, although your dryer is now practically empty (well done).  Collect your clothes from the line and place any that are covered in bird poop back in your laundry basket.  Most clothing, despite being stiff as a board and sun bleached to the point where it now looks like a hypercolour t-shirt, is still entirely wearable so hang it up.

Obviously this process only really works if you live alone and don't have to share the machines or clothesline space with others.  If you do, the solution is simple.

Once you can no longer see your carpet, nor open your door, gather up everything and take it to a laundromat.  Use multiple machines so you can do it all at once (you can even be a little bit fancy and separate your colours and fabrics like a grown up).  Once this is done, place everything into one of the HUGE dryers that uni students climb into and then post photos of themsleves on facebook in an attempt to look spontaneous and outrageously wacky, and dry everything at once.  (NB - when removing clothes from these dryers, anything with metal buttons on it will BURN DIRECTLY THROUGH YOUR FLESH so please, be careful)

So there it is folks, direct from me to you, the definitive guide for laundry for today's modern man.

Dear Tina Fey,

Dear Tina Fey,

You are an incredibly talented comedic actress, your writing is on par with such luminaries in the comedy world as Jennifer Saunders and the Pythons and your commentary on society is both clever and honest.

I just have one problem.

Can you please STOP pretending to be some dowdy old housewife in the roles that you choose?

I’ve recently become a fan of 30 Rock and time after time there are jokes about Liz Lemon’s unattractiveness, dorky fashion choices, frumpy figure and her age.  She is referred to as everything from a lesbian to a man to the most horrific choice a man could dare to go out with.

This wouldn’t be such a problem for me except for the fact that you, Tina Fey, are none of these things.  And what’s worse is that YOU, Tina Fey, are the creator of the character and head writer for the show which means you are directly responsible for propagating the lie. 

I understand that there are laughs to be played from picking on Liz Lemon and highlighting her flaws, but come ON Tina Fey, enough is enough.

Seriously….

I just watched Date Night and yet again we see frumpy housewife although perhaps not highlighted quite so much as with the Liz Lemon character.  And I also recently watched Mean Girls, where your character, Ms Norbury, is once again depicted as this undesirable being.

Tina Fey, you are HOT.  Okay?  There’s no denying it.  You are beautiful in a classical way, you are slender, you are funny and, let’s face it, you know it. 

Don'tcha?

Yeah you do.

If you keep trying to convince people you are this saggy old lump, then I’m sorry, but you’re doing more damage than good. If you are meant to be the epitome of unattractive, then what does that say for the rest of us out there?

And yes, the irony that I am a single MAN in his early 30’s about to enter into a feminist rant is not lost on me, but as a leader for young people, I feel it is necessary to point out a few things.

Women out there who are feeling intimidated by this ridiculous standard of beauty that you are supposed to aspire to, just STOP IT.

Young girls out there who are striving to attain this idealised model of perfection, just STOP IT.

Older women who are resorting to deforming your faces in an attempt to look younger, or more desirable, just STOP IT.

Can someone explain to me why oh why Olivia Newton John did that to her face?!  She was gorgeous and now she just looks silly. Courtney Cox on Cougar Town…your mouth shouldn’t look like that!

STOP IT!!!!!

Sexy is NOT being stick thin with a massive chest and long blonde hair. Sexy is NOT big pouty lips and eyebrows near your hairline. Sexy is NOT orange tinted skin and bleached hair (I’ve never in my life looked at a cheese Twistie™ and thought “I wish my girlfriend looked like this”).

I know that what is considered sexy is subjective, but here's my thoughts:

Sexy is being yourself and accepting yourself, having a sense of humour and being comfortable with it.

Sexy is being mysterious and modest and not wearing minimal clothing to get attention.

Sexy is looking like you’ve lived life, not erasing all signs you might have ever laughed.

Sexy is being healthy, looking healthy and feeling healthy.  Healthy women (and men) have contours that are not the result of protruding bones.

Sexy is you, Tina Fey. Now just accept it, embrace it, and let’s all just get on with it.

Yours sincerely,

Mark McBabe.

tl:dr.......lol

I’ve been thinking for ages that I should create a new blog post, not that anyone reads this, but I live in hope that one day they might and so some actual content will be useful.

But every time I think I’d like to sit and write something, I realise I have nothing to say.  At least nothing outrageously hilarious to say, and I feel that anecdotal blogs need to be real knee-slappers to keep people entertained or my posts will be relegated to the “tl:dr” pile, which some of you will know means “Too long; didn’t read” in internet language.

Being a self-professed (and universally loathed) grammar nazi, and also an actual adult, it has taken me a long time to get used to all these abbreviations that have been plastered all over the internet and in text messages.  

I used to be of the belief, and I know I’m not alone here that “lol” meant “lots of love” and so sent many a message to friends that were probably wildly inappropriate.

The thing that bugs me about “lol”, or the more exaggerated “rofl” (Rolling On Floor Laughing) is that more often than not, it is a COMPLETE AND TOTAL LIE!  

Back in the old days, say 2007 or so, when msn messenger was popular (at least for me) and people used to send me a “lol” or a “rofl”, my response was always the same: Really?  Are you REALLY rolling on the floor laughing?  Are you really laughing out loud.

To that end, I coined my own, much more plausible response when someone sent me something mildly humorous.  It was “cq”. 

Cq, if you haven’t already guessed, stands for chuckling quietly.

“Oh the funniest thing just happened.  I saw a cat get run over”

“cq”

“huh?”

“chuckling quietly”

“don’t you think it’s funny?”

“I think it’s HILARIOUS, you know how much I love a good dead cat story, but

I don’t like to lie about my reactions, so I’m cq”

            “oh….so….you’re just…..I have to go now”

And they would promptly run off and regale their other online friends with their hilarious tale of squished cat bits all over the road, to which everyone undoubtedly replied “OMFG ROFL WWYH TTYL!!!” thus validating the storyteller.

I had hoped that cq would catch on with the same fervour as lol and that I would become the celebrated and heavily financially compensated hero of the internet. Sadly, it did not catch on at all and to this day I am still grateful to my internet pal, Leonie Mitaxa, who at least it tried to use it in textual intercourse.

The other thing that bugs me about lol or the more exuberant rofl, is the insincerity of it.

I’ve discovered recently that you can say anything you like to somebody, but as long as you put those three (or four if you’re really trying to drive the point home) little letters on the end, then you can pretty much get away with anything!

Case in point, if I send one of my rather large and more intimidating friends the following text: “You’re such a big fairy and your mother is a tramp,” then I can reasonably expect to be physically hurt, or at the very least, verbally admonished and stricken from the Christmas card list before the end of an illegal download has gone by.

However, if I slightly rephrase the statement to: “You’re such a big fairy, lol, and your mother is a tramp. Hehe,” then I rather imagine even the largest of my no-necked friends would at the very least find themselves cq and will undoubtedly reply with “Rofl. You’re such a card”.

So am I alone in this?  Is anyone else as perplexed and as outraged as I am about the blatant lack of actual words in common usage on the internet?

Soon I will post a new blog with how many of these abbreviations I have misunderstood and then humiliated myself by either using them incorrectly with hilarious consequences, or by telling others what they mean only to discover I have been spreading horrendous LIES

TTFN.