Ghost Town

You know those people you secretly hope you would run into again one day and then you replay the conversation you would have with them over and over in your head? I had one of those people. A ghost from the past who haunted me for years, who I had imaginary conversations with for months.

In the past two and a half weeks I have managed to bump into this ghost 3 times! The first time was a chance meeting on Pitt Street; he doesn’t even work in city…why on earth you were there around lunch time? The conversation did not go the way I had anticipated. Instead, he was so nervous; I thought he was going to rub his hands right off. It probably didn’t help that my sister was dishing him her famous “don’t even think about it mother trucker” stares.

The second time was at Broadway shopping centre. After a grueling grocery shop, Lisa and I decided to reward ourselves with a mindless movie, so we headed to the cinemas. Of course, my ghost happened to be there too! At this stage, I was starting to think this ghost was real…Auto pilot kicked in, I turned on my heels and ran as fast as my 3.5 inches would let me. I don’t know why I ran…it was silly now I think of it. Of course shortly after my diva-esque antics, I received a message from the ghost questioning whether my abrupt exit was a little melodramatic.

Third time lucky was last Thursday. This one is considered lucky because I didn’t directly see him. My ladies and I were hanging out on a particularly sexy Sydney night at the noodle markets. You know those nights where all the beautiful people have assembled, the night is balmy and the air is rich with possibility and excitement? Well, I was having one of those nights and nothing was going to change my mood. As we walked through Hyde park someone dared me to do the running man in the middle of those big chess boards, in return for dinner. Before I even had a chance to consider, Lisa grabbed me by the arm and swiftly lead me through the crowd. It appears that the ghost was sitting on the edge of the chess board…what are the chances? Thankfully, Lisa dished up another serving of “don’t even think about it mother trucker”.

Why is it that my ghost keeps reappearing? Do we have unresolved issues? Is Sydney just too small? What ever it is, I hope I can play nice next time, because at the rate things are going, it may be just be tomorrow.

Newy Escape

The long weekend saw Lisa, Katina and I drag our sorry sad souls out from the Cross to begin our 3 hour drive to Newcastle at 10pm. True to form, the trip was dotted with boy bashing, karaoke and a random breath test, this time the female police officer made a note to tell us that we all smelt very pretty and beachy…ok then.

We arrived at Newy around 1am and sat up till 4am singing “I’m too sexy” in the Borat, Shakira and an angry Bosnian accent. Who says you need alcohol to have fun? Just pass me the mic…!

Our plan to tan was rudely interrupted by Mother Nature…the wind came with vengeance and the clouds also decided to make a cameo. This provided us with the perfect opportunity to discover this quant and unassuming little city. We were very impressed with Newy’s offering of modern and streamline housing architecture. We also discovered a cluster of fabulous little boutiques in Darby Street (Sydney’s Paddington equivalent). Here the ladies shopped up a storm, Kat splurged out on Sass and Bide and a sexy camisole, Lisa and I both continued out love affair with dresses and bought an additional dress each. Our little shopping expedition was also interrupted with a sporadic sun shower, we quickly ducked into a deli for an organic and extremely tasty coffee, “yum!”

Later on that night we were due to make an appearance at the Trash Brunette’s performance at a venue called the Lucky Country. We were bombarded with horror stories and words of warning as we told our Newy friends of our plans for Saturday night. Luckily I came down with the second migraine of my life and Katina was subjected to some sickly antics herself. Sadly, we settled for a DVD and Thai food from a newly launched restaurant called Siam.

Sunday morning rolled around as we packed the car to head back to the big smoke. Just as I was approaching the high way I was nearing 120km/h, I noticed a blue object ahead in the road. “Plastic bag” we all thought…a little closer to the object, I realized it was no plastic bag at all, at this stage it was too late to stop and with cars on either side of me I drove over the foreign blue object. Immediately, an awful sound rang from underneath the car. I pulled over to the side of the road as Lisa, Katina and I emerged from the car, a little shaken to say the least. We spent 7 minutes, all of our forces combined, tugging at this plastic object. We were subjected to numerous beepings and unmentionable propositions, as we finally yanked the blue object out from underneath the car, to our shock horror; we realized it was in fact a baby’s potty chair…ewwee!

Although our stay in Newcastle was short, sickly and sunless, it was also sweet. It must however be said, there is no place like home.

The potty