It worked – this page is looking the way I wanted it to – Kristine (the fixer) even peeked in to check out her advice in motion! Huzzah! Now I can set up my archives pages a bit better and stuff. Last night my dad met me after work to give me some audio book tapes that I lent him and some free range eggs. He asked me if I wanted to get a cup of tea somewhere (coffee is yuck) and I pointed over the road at the fancy Italian café whose window I fog with cake lust most mornings. So we went in, and I suggested it would be fatherly of him to buy me a cake…so I finally scored a slab of the lemon curd tart that I have been making eyes at for days. I half-heartedly offered my dad some (he refused) then I inhaled deeply and it was gone *swoonworthy*. Yum.

I also got a peppermint tea which looked v.cool as the tea was in a silver-foiled stick with lots of little holes punched in it. So now I need to own some….and I’m also still on the trail of Stash Tea – I am loathe to order it over the net, simply because there has to be somewhere in Melbourne you can buy it. The Coffee HQ stands at the city train stations use it, but they seem to all be nuff nuffs (albeit, quite nice ones) and can’t tell me where they get their tea from. Anyway…I’m on the trail.

So after that I headed to Mungs to do my first bit of recording for the second [bilby] album – he gave myself, Chris and Jel the album and we picked the songs we wanted to make up singing for – of course Chris and I settled on one of the same songs, but I think that will work out pretty well. I [ahem] really liked what I did for that one and didn’t want to let it go, so I got Mung to record it and put it together with what Chris had done and it worked v.well!! Her bit is sing-y and mine is more talky in a kind of Arab Strap kind of fresh factors dog supplement
way and they fit like a jigsaw. Awesome. The other one I did was a country kind of song – tee hee – it’s all about a girl who’s man has walked out on her and you think she’s mourning him, but then she says that ‘I can’t sleep for thinking that you might be back in town, and between your eyes, I’d like to see the sky…’

So…that was it for last night. There are about three other songs I’m keen on and I’ll try and have them worked out by next Tuesday. When I got home M had bought me two stubbies of stout! So I donated one to the worthy cause that is himself and drank mine. I was soooo disciplined. I very much wanted to crack open my laptop and fix my site with the code that Kristine had posted, but I knew I would end up boggle-eyed and late-nighted, so I set my alarm and got up at 6:30 and didn’t leave for work until 9:15am because I was so excited that it was finally working out!

Then (this is such a long post, but I am nearing the end point) I got the train into work and the ticket nazis were checking tickets at the Melbourne Central station – I looked casually for my ticket in it’s little pocket in my bag. Nothing. Argh!! I actually spent $22 on a weekly ticket on Monday and it was gone!!! I kept shrieking ‘I bought a weekly…a weekly ticket on Monday!! Don’t fine me! Don’t fine me!!’ They were unmoved, demanded my i.d and copied down all my details. I, meanwhile, was being washed by waves of nauseous desperation that I was about to be stung for over $100 when I’d actually bought a ticket…and the anorexic state of my finances since the $240 half hour session with the savage dentist on Monday.

I staggered out toward the shops trying not to cry and think about calling M and entreating him to look on the floor for my ticket, I sat down to search in my bag some more and then I started feeling a little bit more logical. I remembered that when I went to validate my ticket in the machine there was a whole primary school lining up at it to get on the train, so I didn’t bother and stuck……the……ticket……in……my……
Yep. I found it in my coat pocket!!! Instant jubilation!! Ran screaming back to evil ticket man and pressed my ticket to his eyeball. He very calmly said, ‘OK. I’ll cross your details off the list,’ and waited for me to go away. I stood there, waiting. He twigged, sighed, and said ‘Do you want to see me cross it off?’ I nodded. Then he started being a pain and grabbed his mate and said to me, ‘This is a witness.’ (All I wanted was to see he’d crossed my details out). And his mate got all righteous and said, ‘Don’t you trust us? Do want our names?’ But by this time I was halfway up the escalator and gone, having run the range of emotions from angst to zebra…or something like that. Now I am a rung out little dish towel who should really get some work (work?) done.