Day 273: Wednesday 27 January

January 27, 2010

Has everyone recovered from feeling a rush of patriotism, jingoism and nationalism?

I know I have.

Killing in the name of Australia was quite an exhausting experience. I don’t know how soldiers do it.

Anyway, I celebrated Oi Oi Oi by going to Enmore Park with the family. My nieces got crafty with cupcakes, my nephews ran around re-enacting Star Wars.

Nieces bearing hand decorated cupcakes. Such talent

So now it’s back to work today after a few days away. This is what I’m wearing until then. I’ll put on some office gear in a couple of hours, and if I can be bothered I’ll update this here blog.

Shady shot of Taxi, Ugh and me

Top: Supre vest, all rucked up and nowhere to go

Bottom: Abercrombie & Finch cut offs sliding down my arse

Accessory 1: Denim shoulder bag

Accessory 2: Out of sight denim birkies

Taxi admires me blurry and sweaty in red trim

And now I’m heading of to work in this ensemble…

Top: JeansWest shruggie vesty mini jacket. HOT!

Bottom: JJs cheap ‘n lightweight but still slimy

Accessory: Denim bag with red piping, tying outfit together seamlessly


Day 272: Tuesday 26 January

January 26, 2010

Happy White Riot day everyone.

What an action packed morning I have had so far.

I got up extra bonus early, especially for a public holiday, and did a 6am yoga class. I then thought what better way to mark ‘Straya Day than by going to the beach. Bit of  mistake…

I get to Bondi just after 8am and it is packed. Not just packed with people but packed with giant inflatable thongs boldly emblazoned with ‘Stryan fags (true typo!) flags. Yikes! Anyways, I had a swim to wash off the slimy yoga juices then met up with one of the YoD’s commentariat Mr PeteNel.

Being a true blue Ozzie guy of generous spirit he bought me breakfast cos’, also in the true spirit of ‘Straya, I was too lazy to walk to the car to get my (denim) wallet.

Breakfast was quite pleasant until a table of true blue South African middle aged Aussies sat down to discuss wealth and their incredible jet setting lifestyles all at full volume turned up to 11..

Do I really have to listen to somebody shouting about how many fly-buys they earn allowing them to take the whole family around the world once a year?

Well yes, apparently I do. Alongside that fascinating information I also had to listen to how great Haviana are for making so much money out of flogging inflatable thongs at $30 a pop to the great Ozzie public, who think it’s an awesome idea to celebrate the Spirit of Australia (which I always thought was Bundaberg Rum) by lying in the water on a huge blow up Brazilian thong.

I had to scull (another great Austrayan tradition) my coffee to escape their true blue money obsession. I jumped back in the car and headed home.

As I headed west back to Marrickville I made the ultimate ‘Straya Day gesture, celebrating one of modern Australia’s gretest triumphs. I killed some wildlife.

Yep. A bird flew headlong into the grill of Ugh the Camry, sacrificing itself so that I could fully realise the greatness of this country and it’s incredible achievement of having one of the highest rates of animal extinction in the world.

Oi oi oi.

And really I should have saved yesterday’s t-shirt for today. But I didn’t, so I am wearing this instead. I may change later for early dinner round the corner. We’ll see…

After such a busy morning what shall I fill the rest of my day with, I contemplate

Top: Mum’s hand crafted denim vest, black

Bottom: Abercrombie & Finch, I’m celebrating Straya by wearing American

Accessory: And further celebrating Ozzieness by wearing German denim birkies

Day 251: Tuesday 5 January

January 5, 2010

Finally I have made it home. Home sweet home. Home, untidy, messy and a bit dirty, home.

But let me recount my epic journey home. Get a beer, it’s a long blog.

My lunch date in Lennox went very nicely thank you very much, but of course I was running about 2 hours later than I wanted to be. Not to worry, Ugh the Camry can sure fire up when you put the pedal to the metal! Not.

After a couple of pee stops for me and the dog we cruised into Crescent Head on the mid-north NSW coast around 7pm. I did a quick surf check. None. Very disappointing.

Back in the car and we (Taxi and I)  zoomed off at a moderate Camry friendly pace down the Point Plomer Road to find a place to camp. All the dog friendly camping spots were full or so full I would be sleeping with the red necks. So I opted to park Ugh above Goollowah camp ground over looking the beach.

Taxi ate her dinner and promptly went to bed. I fussed around setting up ‘camp’, ate my chicken roll and climbed into Ugh (the Camry)…

Gourmet chicken roll eaten at a dining table over looking the beach

So there I was lying back, reading by my portable (battery dying) light, when a car pulls up. A couple of guys get out and their ute and start fussing around the back of their car. I get nervous. Phew. They are fisherman.

I lie back down and try to read. My light dies. It’s 9.15pm. I try to sleep, but I’ve parked possibly a little too close to the road. Headlights shine straight in my eyes every time (every 5 minutes) a car goes by.

Why did I camp here? I could have camped a little further around about 50 metres off the road instead of 3 metres. I am a drongo.

After a terrible night’s sleep I wake up early, before 6 am because Taxi needs her morning constitutional…

Taxi's poo with a view

So I figure I might as well get up too, get on the road early, maybe even have a surf…

Cosy sleeping nook inside the belly of the Camry

Of course I need to take my daily denim photo first…

Denim with misty beach back drop

Top: Bought on my way up north at Raymond Terrace, first time it’s been cool enough to wear, vintage ‘Leisurewear’ pale denim shirt/jacket

Bottom: Worn for the second time, photographed for the first time, on the epic journey, Industrie jeans

Accessory: Denim cap, freshly laundered after a heavy soiling on New Year’s Eve

I have no idea about my bent kneed stance in the picture, so on with my travelogue…

So I packed up, piled Taxi into the car and went back to Crescent Head. Tiniest surf ever that can still be called surf.

Fuck it, I thought. I’m here, so’s my surfboard, I’m getting wet.

In I go. Not only is it the tiniest surf ever it’s also the lowest tide ever. At Crescent Head that means rocks everywhere. I clamber in slipping, sliding trying not to smash my board. I catch a wave. I fall off arms forward so I don’t crack my head. I grate my forearms across several barnacled rocks. Now I have stigmata.

Time to hit the road. Sort of. I pop into Port Macquarie to visit 1 of my fav’ op shops in the world. And to snap up a few bargains. But of course I can’t leave it at just 1 op shop. I decide I have to do them all.

Hours later, with not too much stuff ( another pair of jeans, a denim cap, approx 10 handi-crafted coat hangers, wine glasses and a blanket) I finally really get back into Ugh and on the road after first making a lunch enagement for Newcastle.

And now I have a confession to make…

People who know me away from the blog may recall an anti-ham rant or 2 before Christmas. The truth is I have eaten ham nearly every day since Christmas. Sometimes I have even enjoyed it. Like today’s superior toasted ham wrap created by Mr M. Tome of Mayfield. How delicious was it? See for yourselves…

Ham, cheese, tomato, pickled onion, green stuff = tasty plus!

But that’s it for the year! I am not eating any more ham (until Christmas) or bacon. No more salty porky meat!

The drive home from Newcastle was uneventful apart from interesting clouds gathering over the freeway and me trying to beat Taxi with Ugh’s sun shade in an effort to stop her chewing her box off. I have a picture of the cloud but not of me beating Taxi while she munches her vagina.