Tasman Rhapsody.

My Tasmanian mini-stay was nice. It occurred about two months ago, but in a totally unrelated manner I seemed to branch off into a complete and utter careless state of mind soon after returning to my city... 

But as I said Tassie was very nice. Nan and Pa were visited and much kissing and hugging ensued... the polaroid camera was pulled out and passed round... vintage secondhand stores were looted and breakfast houses were accommodating and fed us delicious things (Raspberry Farm pancakes - yes please). Mumma was so heavily pregnant and I felt lucky to witness her a week or so off D-day. It was also very nice to be mothered (talk about nesting mode) - I got my vans all muddy whilst trekking with my little brother and in the morning discovered them all cleaned and neat sitting by the front door. You don't take that sort of thing for granted after you've had to do it yourself so long!

As per the attached photographs, follow our doings: Much hiking of the country around Mum and Tom's little pocket of land with my brother (who may or may not know some of my deepest secrets as a result), markets, coffees, the exultant discovery of a beautiful vintage Olivetti portable typewriter in mint condition for a mere fifteen dollars, visits to Devonport and the Spirit (oh hello, The Spirit), absorbing the abuse of a six year old wench who wanted to use our playground equipment, blustery wind, sea spray and baby kicks. 

Of Girls, Crumpets and Stalking Part II.

Melbourne suburbs differ so greatly, and yet have this great wild feeling holding them together. I constantly have a love for this city gripping my heart tighter than skinny jeans shrunk in the wash. I can't help it. It doesn't matter if there's a crazy person on the city loop train pacing and yelling for no apparent reason, or that someone has yakked everywhere blocking the entrance to the Flinders Street Station toilets on a Saturday night... or that some dude is hanging his head in the door of my work on sunny Saturday, enquiring after a hot chick wearing headphones whilst making no sense whatsover - this city is mine and the people who reside here are generally included in my affections.

Well, all except a few: one of which is the aforementioned laundromat woman. Normally I love anything to do with laundromats... they remind me of freshly washed clothes and blankets, Twisties, magazines and the comfortable smell of warmth and washing powder. As if it would be possible not to have delightful memories of such a place! However, now I have to run past the one at the bottom of my hill (between my house and the station) in constant fear that I'm going to have a run in with this lady... and her bags. Or whatever.

I hadn't even thought about her for a couple of days. Sure, I told a boy at work and a couple of others - for a laugh, you know? I didn't mind, I felt she was harmless and that I wouldn't even have to see her again. Today however, having said goodbye to my kiwi friends in Brunswick, I set out up the street to cross the road and catch the tram into the city. Much to my horror, I looked up from my phone at the lights and there she was, less than three metres away with her bags set carefully around her on the pavement, just smiling at the general public and looking confidently put together. 

My thoughts froze and I quickly looked the other way. I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head and my brain scrambled to think how this would look to her, if she did indeed consider me a spy like the last time we met. Here I was, showing up less than a week later, in a completely different suburb at the same time as her, looking stupidly suspicious due to the fact that I couldn't run away and dial Ju fast enough. 

'She's at the lights Ju, oh my goodness it's actually her! What am I going to do? - she really thinks I'm a corrupt police mole! Damn it I just missed my tram' - as my tram rumbles by - 'I'm so embarrassed right now! I almost said hello again! Shit!'

Thanks to Ju's level-headed directorship, I ran instead to the train station - not without a few apprehensive peeks back over my shoulder - and managed to get home without seeing her again. My mumma thought it was hilarious, and reminded me again that the suspected bugging of the woman's bags should keep me safe and sound, but it really took me the whole afternoon to relax and shrug it off. I get so jolly flustered when I feel that someone thinks badly of me... I really have no idea what to do. All I know is, she better not be in that laundromat tomorrow morning, or I'm taking a picture in case I'm ever in need of a restraining order (bless).

The rest of my weekend was lovely. I spent plenty of time relaxing and hanging out with my recently re-patriated friend from New Zealand, Ju. She is returned from her holidays home and I'm ever so happy. This means plenty more fun with the kiwi girls, and Nick (sorry Nick)! Friday evening was reserved for cheapies at La La Land, which was great. 

Saturday after work (20 Aug) I shopped all up and down Chapel Street with Emma and wrapped it up with a Spanish feast at Basque. O. M. G. that was amazing. I scooped that day... think a black velvety, paisely patterned cocktail dress (even better than it sounds), and black Vivienne Westwood gel sandals with gold buckles - vintage. For twenty five dollars. F***. My gratitude must hereby be extended to my darling Miss Winter for the vintage spot of the century. Well work, Miss Winter. Sorry you're not a size forty! The remorse...

Saturday night was set aside for hitting the city with the NZ girls again - fun as per usual. And I spotted some Space man graffiti on Meyer's Lane above Loop Bar. I'm not sure if it's original, but cool if it is!

This morning we woke late, got breakfast from Green Cafe and trekked down to Princess Park for the longest sit in the sun, half undressed. It was amazing - such a beautiful day! Spring is here for certain, and don't Melbournians love it? 

I do.

Carlton Football Club

Hot air balloons from my train the other morning. There were four, and my mouth was open for most of the train ride. I'm obsessed. I must do this soon.

Laneway Lovers.

Trekking the laneways of Melbourne at 3:30am on a Wednesday morning, post-Eurotrash fever!

Big Discounts

Every week, things get more hectic. So now I'm taking the time to chill out and get centered. I've not written one thing down for the last 3 weeks at least, so it's too bad. I've felt sorry for myself because I haven't been able to surround myself with my friends as much as I'd like, as they've been away - some of the really bad ones leaving the country completely (you know who you are). So you know what? I'm going  to think about the funny things that have happened lately and write them out for you. Like the time I felt bad and went back outside to help a homeless lady with her bags. Settle in, kids.

This lady looked friendly enough. She smiled and laughed with the bus driver when he made a little joke about her 'moving house or somethin' as she clumsily plonked down her six or so bags in the aisle of the bus. She didn't look dodgy, she looked quite well done - young and all made up. But I recognised her as the lady who is sometimes sleeping in the laundromat down near the station when I go in the mornings to catch my train. I feel a pang of sadness every time... and I always spend the time waiting for my train trying to think of a way to help her, or if she even needs help at all. I can't help myself - I wonder for ages.

So when she got off the bus at the top of the hill - my stop, out the front of my house - and began to pull all her bags out and put them on the ground, I felt guilty as I walked up the driveway towards my warm house, where I have warm pyjams and a warm, before bed hot chocolate waiting for me. I went inside and put my own bags down in my room, and before I even knew what I was doing I found myself walking back out the front to ask her if she needed a hand with her luggage.

Poor nieve little innocent me. I should have considered the fact that, for all she knew, I could have been a ring-in for the corrupt police officers / stalker gang / f**king nutcases who would love her to consider herself absolutely and certainly insane, and who constantly know where she is because they've put a f**king bug in one of her bags (this comment purposefully directed at said bags) and they've got all sorts of ways of keeping tabs on her - sneaky dirty tunnels right underneath the ground we were standing on - if I wanted a particular example. Who did she think these people were? Oh I don't know - people with AIDS or cancer who were angry at the world and didn't want her to live happily ever after, whereupon they made it their sole purpose in life to make her own a complete and utter fobbed out misery. I was quite probably recruited by these dirty mongers (as innocently sweet as I appeared) to help damage her life even further by offering to assist her, whilst finding out every little detail I could about her life so I could report directly back to my big evil CIA boss. I coughed because of my cold and the woman thought I was signalling to secret corrupt police officers who were most likely eagerly listening in on our conversation via the wires in my pocket. Mhmm.

Oh yes. This went on for at least one half hour... and I'm quite certain she stated in there somewhere that she also housed spiritual powers and the ability to communicate with angels. Did I mention that?

I, for one, began to wonder if the tirade was ever going to end. I was half leaning, half sitting on the neighbour's fence and my bottom was beginning to go numb with the cold. However, by this time I had grown much too frightened to walk back inside during her damaging and rather offensive declination of my good intentions, lest she become aware of my address and return for revenge once she had found and disposed of the bug she suspected was in her bags. Thank my lucky stars then, that God must have been listening to me (as opposed to the crazy lady), for a short time later, big, cold raindrops began to fall and it seemingly occurred to her that she'd best be on her way. She gathered up her bags and off she went, leaving me to dash back inside to my utmost relief. I had to call my mother right away as a means to sooth my frazzled countenance and become assured again that the woman was not going return for my head.

The next morning, there she was again in the laundromat, with her bags around her and her mobile phone plugged in. I've never skipped past so quickly in my life. I'm going to have to find a new secret path to the station, I think.

Checkpoint.

What I'm listening to: Oh, Ellie Goulding everything - but her acoustic versions are particularly great. I appreciate the version of Starry Eyed in the vid above... she goes off.


What I'm watching: When I got home tonight, Kate tossed the seventh season of NCIS in my general direction saying 'Here, I've finished it. Now you can watch the new hot McGee on your own time!' Not sure what that means, but I've smashed four episodes already (ok, he lost a little bit of weight and got a bit more manly - look out Donozo!).


What I'm eating: Soup. Lots of it, with buttered bread. Too much, but hey, it's winter. And I had a hot ham and cheese croissant for breakfast and it was bril.


What I'm reading: Erin gave me Pride and Prejudice for my birthday - the puffin book I can stuff in my bag and read on the train! Can't wait to get stuck right into it.


Where I'm going: Ok, this is ridiculous. Today I did 8 hours of paid training, for my job, at head office in St Kilda. We learnt just about everything you need to know about a million countries - UK + Europe (and surrounds), France and Italy, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, China, the USA and everywhere. What I want to know now is: how the fuck am I going to fit this into four weeks of annual leave a year? I want to go everywhere! Best thing about my job? Half-priced to free tours with our wholesalers - mm mmm!


What I'm wearing: Pyjamas, again. Awesome!


What I'm wanting: To go to bed right and wake up tomorrow feeling like I've slept for a week. I love that feeling.

Kids.

In a Queensland child's life, the State of Origin stands out, whether or not their family is into football, or even owns a tv. I can remember it back for years.

Wednesday the 6th of July was a big one for Queenslanders and ex-pats alike. The third Origin simply rolled up into the climax of the season - Lockyer's last origin, and a true decider at that. We won and I was proud and happy... in a red wine haze of football and Skypes with Queensland work buddies. Nothing like a good game of NRL to bring a state together.

On Thursday, after work, it was Erin time again. We met on Chapel and made our way to the tacky IGA just down from my office. A bottle of red wine and a satay chicken dish later, we were deep in conversations about family trees, christmas and relationships. Deep. We sat for hours - a leisurely dinner - and afterwards made our way to San Churros for melted milk chocolate goodness. It was Erin's introduction and first time and her eyes were opened. Needless to say, San Churros is not a place you should frequent more than once a month. It's just really hard not too.

After work on Friday I found myself on the Frankston Express, headed swiftly for the Penince. This time I had to catch the bus from the station because the boys had already started drinking. Fortunately for me, the bus stop isn't too far from Brent's street, and I was able to make my way there without becoming frozen like a slushy. A couple of rounds of beer pong later, we were off to Main Street for a loose night - Mornington style. Brent was sad because he couldn't find his blue beanie anywhere, and I was amused because Brent's hair without a beanie can look silly.

God's Kitchen came first... we sat around and got boozed in a big old place that used to be a church. I bought Brent way too many goodbye beers. I don't know what I was thinking. I remember clicking my heels with Skinner as we skipped down the street towards Noodlebox. I vaguely remember inhaling a six inch Subway. Karl and Sam were there for a bit, and we danced a lot. I got into a domestic with a taxi rank officer who made me cry, Brent retrieved me delicately from the smallest, most seedy alley in Mornington and brushed away my tears (whilst assuring me that the taxi man thought he had false power and was the biggest bully on the planet), and then we went home and had hot milo and went to bed.

The next morning Brent, Skinner and myself had Big Breakfasts with sides of hollandaise and massive chocolate milkshakes, at Kate Mac's work. It was great. We found Brent's beanie in the dryer, then he and I road-tripped back into the city whilst nursing Gatorades and headaches, and singing. I will miss those trips.

You might think here: Hmm... Bronni's already had a pretty big weekend. It's Saturday afternoon and she's already been drunk almost every night of this week, she's played beer pong, she's smoked too much and she's probably going to have a shower, hop into bed, catch up on her blog and take it easy - because she has to work on Sunday.

Well you'd be incorrect.

I did have a shower, but it was only a five minute one - because we'd dillydallied much too long and I was super late. I had to throw on some clothes, quickly toss everything I needed for the next 24 hours into a bag and tear down the hill in a mad rush to catch the train. I was off to Miss Winter's house, to get ready for the Ball!

The Flight Centre ball was like nothing I've ever been to. It was very lavish; there was a red carpet and rows upon rows of waiters with trays of cocktails waiting on us in the foyer. There were ice queens on stilts, big blow-up candy cane people and haggard old dressed-up men wandering about, leering and making jokes. It was a christmas theme, and the little group from Student Flights in Prahran gazed at each other with gleaming eyes, grabbed two cocktails each, and proceded to become one of the very loosest bunch of colleagues at that ball...

Oh yes, that's us. All I need to reveal from that night is that: we danced, we drank, and Lizzie tipped a jug of milk all over Emma in her delicious black velvet dress. And we got a lift home in the Topdeck car.

When we got home to Emma's, we gobbled down some of her amazing potato and leek soup with grain bread and a big cup of water. I slept on the couch under the bear rug and with a silk mask. On Sunday, I woke up freakishly healthy (again), and off I skipped to work. That night I finally managed to get hold of my favourite cousin in Brisbane, Harvey, and we talked for hours and everything was very chill.

Monday 12 was the last opportunity I had to spend with my darling friend Ju, before she retreated back to New Zealand for a month to visit family. This time was not wasted. Well actually, we were very wasted, but that's a rather alternative concept... anyway, we found ourselves, quite late, at O'briens' Irish Pub on Southbank (as we quite often do, should we not frequent Ponyfish Island). We were five pints in, no dinner down, singing wildly to the boisterous Irish duo on stage and calling each other every Irish name we could think of. We settled on Bronni O'brien and Julia O'reilly. I got halfway to work the next morning before I realised I had potato and gravy from KFC all down the back of my coat and bag. Don't know how we managed that.

On Tuesday Shaggy, Brent and I assembled at the boys house after work for a lesson in the art of baking. The results spoke for themselves. Well, we didn't really speak that much, but those brownies were definitely good.

We ate pizza, watched Geordie Shore, trekked to Sevs Elevs, ate more brownie and chilled on the couch. For hours.

On Wednesday the 14th of July I went to the gym for the very first time since moving to Melbourne. I also made three bookings that day! Plenty of firsts, which is good. On Thursday I vegged at home, did the washing and started preparing for the weekend... again.

I had Friday off... which was happy and sad. It was the last official Brent and Bronni day we had together before he needed to leave for Amsterdam. It was hilarious.

We drove around like maniacs trying to navigate to the nearest Vic Roads so I could change my licence over to a Victorian one... only to find it packed and to totally give up and storm out right away. Then we went to Chadstone so Brent could buy Jess's 21st present and lots of other unnecessary things. After that we went home, finished the brownie, watched Cool Runnings (again), ate Thai, talked like Indians and Darren Lockyer for about an hour and a half and spent about $25 at Sevs Elevs, as part of the wildest spree yet (Chocky Milk)! Bakedous Maximous.

I slept really well that night, and the best part was that I didn't have to start work til 10 on Saturday morning. Which was lucky, because that sleep set me up for the weekend. After work on Saturday I hailed a cab and met Brent at my house, where I quickly got ready for Jess's and he smashed some beers. I then drove us all to the Tennisons, and on to the birthday venue. All you need to know about the venue is that it had an open bar. Thats all I know! The rest of that night is a blur of cousins, wine and drunk aunties and uncles on the dance floor. And facebook hacking and drunken dirty phone calls to workmates and friends. You get the picture.

Happy birthday Jess! Love from, Us xx (your special cousins)

I left when they turned the lights on - I don't remember it, I just know I was out of there. I was on the street and I got in a cab and I somehow managed to get home. Unfortunately in that space of time I also managed to vomit on myself and out the door of the cab, take the cabbie's handkerchief, use it and ungratefully toss it out the window. Needless to say, all those times I've woken up freakishly healthily after the largest of nights? They descended upon me at once, like a sack of bricks, and I did not have my last yak until 4 on Sunday afternoon. Class.

I think that's enough for now. B.

Cool Shit July.

Just when I thought The Kills couldn't get any cooler, they take some time out to re-record almost every single one of their songs - acoustically. Alison Mosshart, may we marry?

Chapel Street Tattoo's artist and co-owner, Jane Laver - for Frankie Magazine. Great, great article, but want to know whats cooler about this whole scenario, apart from the fact that she's super amazing and a great artist? I know this personally, because she came and bought a travel gift card from me, at Student Flights! She helped me learn a bit of my job and was very nice and patient. Thanks, Laver! (See her interview with The Enthusiast here)

Drunk facebooking for State of Origin (Queensland fever). Ahh, my drunk, crazy friends from home. Some of you, I have to say I really dislike, but other's I miss a lot, and I spent a lot of the third game thinking of you: Melbell and Loui, Smithee, Kylie and Brent and Lexis, Laws and Nige, Amy J, Jeffa, Griffo, Matty and Amy, Barb, 'Senya and Kaylene... you realise who your true friends are once you've moved interstate and they still make the effort. Thanks so much for keeping contact - some don't. I miss you guys, and hopefully we can catch up for loose times soon!

Snippets from my July (which is, so far, the opposite of dry!).

B

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

Three Week's Recap, Bloody Bloody.

Wow, what a momentous few weeks. It is just ridiculous how busy this woman has been. In an effort to fill you all in on happenings, let me try and sub it all down into a few paragraphs (this will be interesting).

So, three weekends ago (my goodness, I can't believe its been this long, I'm so sorry - you must have missed me. Anyway, let me continue -) I went home exhausted from a week of insane Flight Centre training. It's hard work, so I stayed in on Friday night (10 Jun) and made a point of sleeping in until 12 on Saturday morning. 

That's where the laziness finished and the fun began again: Saturday evening (11 Jun) I met Siobhan at the fun end of Chapel and we proceeded with beers to her friends home for pre dinner ones. Here we met up with Philly and Adam (two lovely boys - hey boys!) before going for dinner on Chapel and psyching ourselves up for the huge night ahead - my fabulous debut into the world of the Grayhound. This place is amazing... recently refurbished and packed to capacity, I've never seen so many beautiful people in one place. I didn't get hit on once (that was nice, actually). They had shows and insane music, and I had a fantastic time. I may have closed my mouth once. If you want to know more about that night, you'll need to get me drunk and talk me into it. Even then, I'll probably just drag you there (no pun intended), because I really have no words.

I found myself trotting homewards down Chapel at around 10am Sunday morning (12 Jun - I'd had about 4 hours sleep), made one stop for salami, camembert, turkish bread and a coffee at the Prahran markets, then trained it home. But guess what - this was Queen's birthday weekend: I had Monday off and therefore the fun had only just began. Sunday evening found me in Belle's car with herself and Shaggy - off to the Penince again!

The Ash from Chilean Volcano that screwed shit up for the Melbourne Airport, big time!

We lit a fire in Shaggy's living room, built the most incredible cubby ever (utilising blankets, a clothes rack and some pegs), installed a red light I scrounged from Shaggy's bedroom (classic Shaggy) and got boozed while we waited for Brent to finish work. The rest of the night included a Youtube Tiesto mix, a session in the sauna, and a very comfortable cubby sleep for Brent and I. You haven't slept until you've slept in a cubby.

On Monday morning (13 Jun), Belle and I found ourselves home alone at Shaggy's, so (after I terrorised the cat a little bit, out of boredom), we grabbed snacks and went straight to the beach. The bay was beautiful, but the water was deceiving - I took my tights off and dipped in a toe. I couldn't feel that toe for the rest of the day... but that's ok. Then Brent took us back to the Pillars so I could see it on a nice day, and we clambered around on the rocks like the happy little kids we are. We have such fun!

Back at Shaggy's, we entertained ourselves for a good two hours by playing hide and seek. I am proud to say I'm the reigning champion. I managed to squish myself into a tiny wicker clothes hamper, and into the top shelf of the linen cupboard in the hallway - rendering myself pretty much invisible for 20 minutes. Brent learnt to look up, and that I can pretty much fit anywhere (as long as it's before lunch).

Shaggy got home from work, we had a sandwich feast for lunch, partook in one more game of H and S, then Brent and I road-tripped home late whilst listening to sic jams and unintentionally annoying old men who reminded us of Santa. That night I even managed to trip into the city for a delicious risotto dinner with Siobhan, Ciaran and Taina (and saw the new baby!). 

That was my Queen's Birthday weekend. Happy birthday, Queen!

On Tuesday (14 Jun), it was back to training, but I had a super day and was feeling pretty good when I hopped on the train to go meet the boys at Caulfield for 5 dollar pints and some procrastigambling. I sat opposite a little old lady on the train (Here I need to add that, on Wednesday the week before I had texted MX News with a little 'Overheard' titbit, in the hope that they would find it hilarious and publish me). I convinced said little old lady to let me have her MX so I could have a hopeful little squiz. 

I got published! I was in MX! Needless to say, the little old lady felt obliged to let me keep her MX, and I was a ball of excitement when I finally got to the pub and met up with the boys. What a laugh.

This one's called 'The Tulip'.

Wednesday (15 Jun) was State of Origin. I got drunk, and skyped the whole time with people from home. Victorians don't really appreciate the Origin concept (they just feel a bit left out, I think), so I spent the whole time laughing til tears ran with cool uncle Lionel, Patty and their new chef kid Isaac. Good night.

Friday (17 Jun) rolled around, and Julia Goolia, myself and the rest of my class were relieved to learn that we were done with training, and had passed with flying colours. Ohh yeah. Cause enough for beers - so we hit up Ponyfish Island right away... then New Guernica, the Carlton and Spice Market. Spice Market was fun, though we couldn't stay long. I'll be back there again for sure.

As the night drew to a close, I said bye to Julia Goolia and her buddy Lauren at Flinders Station and hopped on one of the last trains. Unfortunately there was a bit of an incident on the way home - I was just sitting there with my beanie pulled down over my ears and my headphones in, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor of the train next to a girl who had collapsed and was unconscious, stiff and had stopped breathing. My brain went blank - I could not remember CPR from high school so I was yelling at people to help. No-one knew what to do, but we were pulling up at a station so a boy hit the emergency stop button while I tried turning the girl on her side to get her breathing again. Thank fuck she woke up, I don't know what I would have done. She had totally lost control of all bodily functions and I felt so bad for her. We finally got her off the train and called the ambulance, but not before she had spewed all over the station and started coming to properly... I was right next to her the whole time trying to get her relaxed. We got back on the train once the ambulance turned up and I'd talked to her parents to let them know what had happened. Needless to say, I was no longer tipsy. There's nothing like someone nearly dying in front of you to help sober you up!

Saturday morning (18 Jun) was spent in bed again, but at 5 that evening I was tearing back down the hill to the station, late for my train to meet Stevee Eves in the city. I did my 1 klm hill in 4 minutes, in only stockings - no shoes. But I made that train! We had a great night up at Rooftop bar above Cookie's - just stayed there the whole night talking about Gen Y and careers and growing up. We met Prue at 10pm when she finished work, and I left them at Flinder's again, this time hopping on a train to Windsor Station - hello Chapel Street!

I was meant to be meeting Trentos after his football dinner (it was his last night before he went to Mt Hotham for the season), but I had a bit of time to kill. Out came the pocket flats, and my heels went under a bucket in a back alley close to his place. Adventure time! I helped a couple find a bar called Warehouse that I didn't even know existed, shared cigarettes and stories with boys on the street and peeked in the windows of the salsa bar to watch people dancing. That's my true Melbourne. Answering to no-one.

Trent finally caught up with me and we went back to his place for wine and drinks with his lovely flatmates. All in all, a fabulous night. It was really great - I just love all my friends.

So then SUNDAY (19 Jun), all I did was chill in the courtyard with Kate and drink wines and unwind before my first official week as a fully fledged, novice travel consultant. And that is the week I've just finished. Oh yes people, I have a million and one more stories for you. Tune in... I'll be back this week with more.

Kisses.

Good Morning Chapel St

I love you and can't wait to see you tomorrow morning :)

Some of Rummey's Favourites.

Random dude sits down next to me with his food.
Dude: Nice beanie.
Me: Thanks man! I wear it everywhere, even to bed.
Dude: *nods in mutual appreciation* I don't blame you.

PS my new hair:

Have a SUPER SUNDAY.

So Snug In Bed And Cosy.

It's 11:45pm Saturday night and I'm home from a big night, out all freshly showered and so cosy wrapped up in my pyjamas in bed. This week has been gigantic - I was so happy to see Friday come, although it meant we had our first assessment for training to knock out of the way before we could go and drink many beers (which is the purpose of Fridays, no?). Luckily, and much to my surprise, I passed with flying colours. I actually knew what I was doing! Good feeling. Unfortunately not all the people in my class did so well, but hopefully they do well next week.

So we poured out of the headquarters and into the crisp air on St Kilda road, before catching a tram in to Flinders St. Upon arrival I dragged my two best training buddies, Julia and Emma, to my favourite haunt down on the river - oh yes, we hit the Ponyfish! I love that place, and so did they (I knew they would: as if you couldn't love an adorable little bar underneath a footbridge that runs over the Yarra, which serves big, cold pints of cider and mulled wine, and has those warm outdoor heaters, and plays the most awesome chilled out music on the planet). Emma had to run after one beer, but Ju and I stayed on, until we excitedly emerged and headed up into the city. Two bars and a couple of hours later (Rooftop - oh yeah!), we were scoffing McDonalds as we tore towards Spencer St Station to meet her kiwi buddie who came to spend the weekend. So anyway, I ended up catching one of the last trains home for a well deserved sleep-in. I could hardly remember what it felt like: good.

So today then, Saturday, I got up late, vacuumed my room and caught the train into Richmond to get my mail, visit Tweek and get my hair done. I haven't walked to a salon in about... 9 months? It was so good, I love my new hairdresser, Laurelle. She did the most fantastic job and I'll definitely go back. I can't believe I'm happy with a hairdresser! They usually really shit me.

Anyway, success. I had to race home though, because Jess was coming to pick me up at 5:30pm to go to a dance cabaret she was performing in for her dance school. We bought these tickets for 60 dollars a few weeks ago, and it was so great. The meal was absolutely insane: Pumpkin soup, Greek salads, marinated roast vegetables and chicken breast stuffed with camembert and spinach on mash with pepper sauce, and chocolate mousse for desert. I know. Jess and Sarah danced very well and I met new friends, some of Jess's from uni. Caught the train home and here I am. I am going to sleep like a log tonight.