Sunday, July 17, 2011

From Where You'd Rather Be.

I need an IPAD. I seriously need to be able to blog on the go, because I am like a freight train with no brakes - out of control and not slowing down! (Don't worry mum, I'm not literally out of control xx)

My first week as a fully fledged, novice travel consultant at Student Flights on Chapel was a good one. Finally, training was over and I could fully get into the spirit of things - with my own desk and business cards. How proud. You proud, mum? Yes you are. Monday and Tuesday went well, I may have cried a little bit whilst still learning to juggle everything in my head, but I was well on the way to convincing myself that I was in love with the job.

On Wednesday (23rd Jun) I made my first big booking on my own, and after work I headed to the boys', where the darling lads had thai and specially purchased girly beers (cider) waiting for me. I was so hyperactive - the whole day had been ridiculously exciting and now we were about to hit the city for Brent and the others Uni party (finished uni for the semester drinks). It was a big night, but we were all home in bed by 2, which would have been fine - however I had my first bout of serious 'Flightmares'. I literally couldn't shut my eyes all night without imagining myself quoting flights and travel insurance to disapproving clients who wanted better. It was too much, and I didn't get a wink of sleep the whole night - resulting in me going home early from work the next day because I simply couldn't hack it. I went home and slept from 5:30pm to 6:30 the next morning. Only then did I return to normal Bronni.

On Friday (24th Jun) night I met up with my cousin, Erin, for what we like to call our weekly dinner. We went for pizza and pasta, as both of us were feeling a bit off. Dinner was lovely, and afterwards we cheered ourselves up with some ciders and a session of Big Buck Hunter - shared with a guy, Henry, who was waiting for his friends. He was such a good little lad, and kept up with us remarkably well, seeing as he'd never played before. Afterwards, he bought me a cider, then Erin and I had to go home. Erin believes he would've followed me to the end of the earth if asked, but I think he was just lovely.

On Saturday (25th Jun) I slept in and woke up feeling fabulous - ready for F-U-N! Called Stevee and we decided on a plan of action. I was to meet him at Camberwell at four, and he would come over for drinks in our little courtyard. I was at Camberwell when he picked me up in his car, saying he could still drink and that he'd come over the next day to pick it up. All good. That's when shit got real.

We went to First Choice on the way home... and somehow managed to leave with a bottle of Captain Morgans finest. Stevee and I haven't had rum together before, and it didn't really occur to us that it was a surprisingly big mistake to drink the whole bottle between two people - in as many hours. In fact we didn't even realise anything was wrong until we went to call him a cab home at 8pm, and I couldn't see my phone, and he couldn't talk. Actually, neither of us could talk, only look at each other and giggle nervously. I think we managed to call a cab, however we then thought it would be a fabulous idea to go to the corner for KFC. I got a Sweet Chilli Twister (my current vice), and could only manage one or two bites before putting it back in it's wrapper for later. Stevee scoffed his dinner and we struggle back to my house, which is basically one door down haha. Tried to call another cab as they said we'd missed the first one, then huddled in the garden to wait, holding onto trees so we didn't topple over ourselves. We still couldn't really talk.

Stevee's cab finally arrived, and he hopped in and bundled home. I went inside, left my KFC on the floor in my room, had a shower and a spew and passed out by 8:30pm. Woke up at 2:30am, finished my Sweet Chilli Twister (which was amazing, by the way), and drank 5 glasses of water before passing out again. Admittedly not my finest hour, but at least we were home, all safe and not embarrassing ourselves in front of strangers. Right mum?

Amazingly, when I woke on Sunday morning bright and early and trained into the city to meet Siobhan at her apartment, I was fine. Perfectly healthy. I was even better after a coffee and a hot ham and cheese croissant. Those things are the shit. Siobhan rocked up a short time later with our ride for day - the machine that was going to bring us to Healesville (in the country) and back. A 1990 model, butter yellow Toyota Carolla. It was great. There we were, cruising the highways behind Melbourne, getting out of the city for the day with the windows down and our hair billowing. The weather was spectacular, and to top it all off, once we'd arrived and met the other ex-pats at a big winery shed in town called The Giant Steps, I had another hot ham and cheese croissant. Bril.

The day was lovely - we trawled the local shops and I invested in a vintage pink tee with lace around the top, some creamy crocheted fingerless gloves and some hindu prayer flags from one of the best hippie stores I've ever set foot in (it smelt devine). A trip to the Healesville Animal Conservatorium rounded out the day and we drove home snuggly with the heater on, all topped up on the fabulous, clear country air.

Back to work on Monday (27th Jun), wherein the afternoon Shaggy, Lyndon and Aiden came in to see me and pay for the boy's Euro trip and insurance. How excitement! They then waited next door at the Lucky Coq til I finished work, and we all drove back to the boy's house in Glenhuntly together. This wasn't planned, but we had one of the best nights! Brent had left for NZ on Sunday, and I was getting around in just my tights and one of his oversized Bintang singlets which fit me like a dress. We got baked and drank beers and went on a mission to Sevs Elevs... and we were all in bed by 11 like good kids.

When I woke up in the morning the boys were gone - left for the airport, to depart to NZ for the week themselves. Lucky things. I was super jeal and would have loved to have gone. Unfortunately someone had to stay home and do some work - and that someone was me! Next time.

On Wednesday after work I met Ju on the footbridge over the river, and we got cash out and hit the Ponyfish, regular Bronni and Ju style. It was windy and a bit rainy, but we were loving it. We really wanted to go dancing, but couldn't think of anywhere on a Wednesday night - plus we're too poor/tight for cover charges. Rules out a bit. So we talked to some random boys for a bit, then ended up heading to KFC for dinner and home (not before I'd trashily managed to drop potato and gravy all over myself and the pavement). We sat in Flinders Station for a bit, giggling at weirdoes and people watching, and I tried to quell fears that something terrible might happen on the late train home. I get so paranoid when I'm home late on the train and drunk; the lights are so bright. I got home perfectly safe, and may have even cheekily caught the bus up the hill. Hey - safety first, right mum?

30th of June rolls around - a massive day at work where we had to make sure everything financially was done and dusted. But the real clincher of the last day of June, when you work for Flight Centre as a company, is the infamous 30 June Party, just another reason to get gassed at a work hey-ho. This year, ours was held at Camberwell, so we caught the train after work - just Teegs, Lizzie, Emms and I. We got changed and got pretty in the back room, before smashing two bottles of wine and Vietnamese food at New Wind on Chapel. You could say that by the time we hopped off the train in Camberwell, we were a bit chatty and more than ready to party.

Well, on Friday morning I woke up at home, in my own bed, with a blood nose and pool cue chalk, indian war paint on my cheeks. It was a pretty big night, yes. Luckily, I had the day off, with my only priority being to pick up my bag from work and buy a bad jumper for Alanna's going away party that night.

I leisurely made my way in to Chapel street, wearing my little blue and white gingham summer dress (it was a beautiful day), my woollen poncho and freshly washed hair. Again - I feel I woke up freakishly healthy for the amount I drank the night before, and this was reinforced as I stepped in the door of my store to see the others, who all had to work that day. Emma had only just finished yakking and had a huge headache. She looked like death, poor thing, but was ready to make an attempt at keeping lunch down. I went across the road with her and Teegs and we got Hooked fish n chips. After that, I went for a walk and managed to score the Bad Yumper of my dreams. Thanks SHAG. You're beautiful. All my stuff in hand, I then dragged myself all the way down the other end of Chapel St, onto Church street and then Bridge Rd, which is where I wanted to meet up with Ju and Lauren at the Mt View Hotel. I had a beer and some hot chips with them before we all caught a tram into the city and a train home.

That night I was back on Chapel for Alanna's going away party at Somewhere Bar. My bad jumper was made of the softest wool, and has a little house, and mushrooms, and trees and little men parachuting knitted into it. And little beads. SO cool. The party was fun - my favourite part was when Alanna came over to me clutching a little blue Tiffany's box. I grasped it thinking it was a super classy going away gift and peeked inside excitedly, only to find it empty but for two classic rolled doobies nestled in the packaging. Nice style, Lans haha. However, by this stage I was feeling the effects of a big one the night before, and poor Emma was dying on the inside. We managed to sneak away early, at ten (Sorry Lans! We love yooouu), and snuck equally as guiltily right into San Churro's, for my very late-night, exciting introduction to the wonder that is hot doughnut-like bread sticks dipped in warm melted milk chocolate. Night complete. Train home.

On Saturday I stayed home (all day! I know!) and generally missed the boys. Bloody NZ. But I did manage to find this video clip to a rather mad dubstep song which, if you know Brent, Shaggy and myself, is incredibly hilarious. We swear this will be us in fifty years, and we look forward to it.

Sunday was the 3rd of July, the day before Independence Day in America. I spent it with my good friend Dadzie, wearing jeans, a tee, my big blue (lighthouse owner's) coat and gumboots, and road-tripping to Phillip Island in his fully sic 4WD. It reminded me so badly of Matty and my four wheel drive trips in high school to Landcruiser Mountain Park and the like, and I had such a fun day! Thanks Dadzie! I saw the whole bottom side of Phillip Island (nothing between Tassie and me - hi mum), Pyramid Rock, and we held our breath as we crossed the bridge, as per tradition. Fish and Chips for lunch, cider on the way home and a chill sesh in my courtyard with good tunes finished off the rainy, happy Sunday. Fun.

So I know I'm behind, but I promise to write more tomorrow/soon. All I can tell you for now, is that the next few weeks involves a new boy coming back to work in our store with us (yay! not all girls anymore - love you Dan the Man), a riotous going away party and 21st - both for cousins, losing and finding Brent's beloved beanie, a session in God's Kitchen, some seriously crazy brownies that didn't just taste good in your mouth, more new friends and a Taxi man who made me cry. Oh, and me in the act of stealing a hankie from a different Taxi man.

But thats the NEXT chapter - time for bed little ones! Goodnight xx B

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