All I really can say is that in Melbourne it is getting chillier and greyer but everynow and then, because we still are in the lovely season of Autumn we get scatterings of sunny days.
When one of these occurs I suggest you go outside.
Up, bup, bup! But before you do this you have to put on a 50's influenced outfit. Then I suggest putting on some headphones and then listening to either some old music or retro inspired music that makes you jolly. Also, put on some brightly coloured sunglasses so that you can look directly into the sun and say hello, because it may be the last time you see it for a while.
Then go outside and go for a walk on the High St.
It is physically impossible for you not to be a) grinning and b) somehow infuse some dance-like music into your walking.
What I found rather odd today, is that the more you look like you are having a good time and the more you smile in public, the more frowns you get from the other end. I thought my good mood and sunniness would be infectious, but no. Everyone just had to give me odd looks, rather than smile
I do admit, usually I quite like odd looks. For some reason, they make me feel happy with myself. I think it's my form of a compliment, as long as random strangers on a tram are finding me a bit odd then I'm ok.
I like thinking about my rather odd encounters, but I wonder if others find me as their odd encounter.
Mairead
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Perfect Man, Perfect Ad
This ad first blessed my eyes about a year back. It appeared on screen only once, at around six o'clock in the morning and I fell in love. And yet, nobody knew what I was talking about when I tried to explain it to them and nowhere on YouTube could it be found.
Luckily, with the return of Masterchef, this advertisement has appeared yet again. Not only has it's popularity grown, it now appears on the holy tube that is yours. Enjoy:
What also makes me joyous is that there is ANOTHER ad of the same perfect man:
I leave you with this:
"Sometimes, when I cook, I weep"
Mairead
Luckily, with the return of Masterchef, this advertisement has appeared yet again. Not only has it's popularity grown, it now appears on the holy tube that is yours. Enjoy:
What also makes me joyous is that there is ANOTHER ad of the same perfect man:
I leave you with this:
"Sometimes, when I cook, I weep"
Mairead
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
HOEDAFOWN!
The above title is a representation of the phrase "Hold the phone!" said in an outraged accent.
I believed it appropriate to title this post "HOEDAFOWN" because for one thing, I find it very amusing and for two thing this may be your possible reaction if you looked at my blog and realised that a) the title of the blog is different and b) it looks different also.
The cause behind all this hoedafown-ing is because I've decided that from now on my blog will have a theme.
And that theme, as specified in the title, are my strange encounters that I experience in my day-to-day goings on. Thankfully, this fits in quite well with my previous posts. So hoorah, hoorah for consistency.
Mairead's Rather Odd Encounters looks different to Mairead's Highly Interesting Mind because it's a different blog (Actually that's a lie. My blog was insecure about their appearance and was getting really moody and depressed, and being the loving person that I am gave it a bit of a makeover. Don't tell anyone, though... Insecure, remember?)
Enjoy the revamped musings of silly ol' me,
Mairead
I believed it appropriate to title this post "HOEDAFOWN" because for one thing, I find it very amusing and for two thing this may be your possible reaction if you looked at my blog and realised that a) the title of the blog is different and b) it looks different also.
The cause behind all this hoedafown-ing is because I've decided that from now on my blog will have a theme.
And that theme, as specified in the title, are my strange encounters that I experience in my day-to-day goings on. Thankfully, this fits in quite well with my previous posts. So hoorah, hoorah for consistency.
Mairead's Rather Odd Encounters looks different to Mairead's Highly Interesting Mind because it's a different blog (Actually that's a lie. My blog was insecure about their appearance and was getting really moody and depressed, and being the loving person that I am gave it a bit of a makeover. Don't tell anyone, though... Insecure, remember?)
Enjoy the revamped musings of silly ol' me,
Mairead
Quackattack!
Today was a long and tiring day.
When one has been at school for numerous hours, much longer than most (ie. finally leaving at some time they call quarter to six) there is not much possible on this Earth to cheer you up.
Let us weigh up the facts:
You are a) tired
b) hungry
c) someone who has had an uneventful yet boring and tedious day at schooligans
d) desperately and achingly wishing for home which is about 45 minutes out of your reach
e) It's slightly dark and slighty cold
f) To sum up all of the above: ASS
As I said above... nothing is going to improve your mood. Even your iPod (because it a measly little 4GB nano and doesn't have anything to provide to you.
But.
Believe me.
There is something that will most definitely put a smile on your face if not hysteric laughter.
Now, now. Melbourne is a city home to many a cyclist. And as I grumpily strode my way onto Royal Parade I saw the stream of bicycles whiz past. Royal Parade is where the bike rules. Morning and night, indie uni kids, indie Uni High kids, adult city working people (a race rather foreign to my young self) race up and down good ol' Royal P. Cyclists of any speed, ones with fixies ones without; it doesn't matter. It is a sanctuary to any type of bike rider, and if you're there often enough you've pretty certain you've seen it all.
Oh, no. No you haven't.
Amongst the regular riders, coming home from work, pumping their legs up and down away from the city was a particular cyclist who caught my eye. A streak of yellow, you could call it. A fluffy yellow.
A top a bicycle riding at full speed amongst the serious roadsters was a man or woman ( it is impossible to tell) clothed purely in a bright fluffy yellow duck suit. A large circular cartoon like duck head was incorporated in such a suit.
As this quacktastic legend rode past me all my troubles floated away and melted into bursts of laughter. Yes, I was on the street alone laughing outrageously loud to myself. But I didn't care.
Neither did the duck, quite obviously.
Keep on quackin'
Mairead
When one has been at school for numerous hours, much longer than most (ie. finally leaving at some time they call quarter to six) there is not much possible on this Earth to cheer you up.
Let us weigh up the facts:
You are a) tired
b) hungry
c) someone who has had an uneventful yet boring and tedious day at schooligans
d) desperately and achingly wishing for home which is about 45 minutes out of your reach
e) It's slightly dark and slighty cold
f) To sum up all of the above: ASS
As I said above... nothing is going to improve your mood. Even your iPod (because it a measly little 4GB nano and doesn't have anything to provide to you.
But.
Believe me.
There is something that will most definitely put a smile on your face if not hysteric laughter.
Now, now. Melbourne is a city home to many a cyclist. And as I grumpily strode my way onto Royal Parade I saw the stream of bicycles whiz past. Royal Parade is where the bike rules. Morning and night, indie uni kids, indie Uni High kids, adult city working people (a race rather foreign to my young self) race up and down good ol' Royal P. Cyclists of any speed, ones with fixies ones without; it doesn't matter. It is a sanctuary to any type of bike rider, and if you're there often enough you've pretty certain you've seen it all.
Oh, no. No you haven't.
Amongst the regular riders, coming home from work, pumping their legs up and down away from the city was a particular cyclist who caught my eye. A streak of yellow, you could call it. A fluffy yellow.
A top a bicycle riding at full speed amongst the serious roadsters was a man or woman ( it is impossible to tell) clothed purely in a bright fluffy yellow duck suit. A large circular cartoon like duck head was incorporated in such a suit.
As this quacktastic legend rode past me all my troubles floated away and melted into bursts of laughter. Yes, I was on the street alone laughing outrageously loud to myself. But I didn't care.
Neither did the duck, quite obviously.
Keep on quackin'
Mairead
Friday, April 2, 2010
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?
So here I am, at my grandparents vineyard. My mama and I went to go supermarket shopping to get some food for the Easter celebrations. We were walking down the snacks aisle, after I had insisted on us buying Shapes. Who does not love a good ol' box of Arnotts Shapes to satisfy their munchies? YOM!
A favoured choice of snack amongst children of young and old, I thought that a wise purchase for tomorrow's Easter Sunday would a be a brightly orange coloured box of one of my personal favourite flavours (or one of my "flavourites", so to speak), Chicken Crimpy. Oval shaped, crimped, golden bites of chicken-y goodness. A TRUE flavour.
But as I reach for my delectable orange box, my attention is drawn to a rusty red coloured box of Shapes. A new flavour of shapes for my snacking pleasure? I thought. Hooray.
How very wrong I was.
In red lettering under the large and colourful logo of "SHAPES" was the flavour name: SAVOURY.
I was shocked, outraged. WHAT KIND OF FLAVOUR IS SAVOURY?? SAVOURY IS NOT A FLAVOUR. Such a weak excuse... at least try the conventional PLAIN, like chips do. JESUS, Arnotts, you have truly dissappointed me.
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO that Shape flavours can now be legitimately be passed off as Savoury. What next? Bitter? Sour? Or more probable, GENERIC. Generic flavoured Shapes. Yum yum.
NOT.
Absolutely shameful, I was appalled and expressed my dissappoint rather vocally in the Rosebud Safeway.
I leave you with this; next time you feel the need to snack upon something, and it happens to be Shapes that your fancy falls upon choose Chicken Crimpy, or Pizza or even Barbeque. But, by God, do NOT choose Savoury. Don't succumb to this worlds depressing generalising ways.
Mairead
A favoured choice of snack amongst children of young and old, I thought that a wise purchase for tomorrow's Easter Sunday would a be a brightly orange coloured box of one of my personal favourite flavours (or one of my "flavourites", so to speak), Chicken Crimpy. Oval shaped, crimped, golden bites of chicken-y goodness. A TRUE flavour.
But as I reach for my delectable orange box, my attention is drawn to a rusty red coloured box of Shapes. A new flavour of shapes for my snacking pleasure? I thought. Hooray.
How very wrong I was.
In red lettering under the large and colourful logo of "SHAPES" was the flavour name: SAVOURY.
I was shocked, outraged. WHAT KIND OF FLAVOUR IS SAVOURY?? SAVOURY IS NOT A FLAVOUR. Such a weak excuse... at least try the conventional PLAIN, like chips do. JESUS, Arnotts, you have truly dissappointed me.
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO that Shape flavours can now be legitimately be passed off as Savoury. What next? Bitter? Sour? Or more probable, GENERIC. Generic flavoured Shapes. Yum yum.
NOT.
Absolutely shameful, I was appalled and expressed my dissappoint rather vocally in the Rosebud Safeway.
I leave you with this; next time you feel the need to snack upon something, and it happens to be Shapes that your fancy falls upon choose Chicken Crimpy, or Pizza or even Barbeque. But, by God, do NOT choose Savoury. Don't succumb to this worlds depressing generalising ways.
Mairead
Monday, March 29, 2010
20 things one could do in the holidays to amuse themselves
1) Listen to all the contents of their iPod.
2) Throw a dance party consisting of ONLY ONE artist as the music provider (eg. Simon & Garfunkel)
3) Have a Shia LeBouf movie marathon (Watch Holes numerous times)
4) Invent a language to use to convey "inappropriate messages" with your friends.
5) If the above is not applicable due to the fact that you have no friends, utilise the holidays to go get some
6) Go vegeterian for a whole 2 weeks
7) Go carnivore for a whole 2 weeks
8) Communicate in mime for a whole 2 weeks
9) Write a romantic love song, get out your ukelele and serenade everyone on your street. For prime amusement grab someone to film your neighbours reactions.
10) Set up a lemonade stand outside your house for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
11) Organise and ALL MALE CARWASH for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
12) Write a poem consisting of these words: "kelp", "marmalade", "scrub", "FLOOGLE", "sxcbeest". Read it to your English class when you come back to school to prove that you kept up your literacy skills while on holidays
13) Try and rewrite the entire Harry Potter series in your own words OR continue them from the point of view of Albus Severus Potter.
14) Mix a spoonful from every jar in your house and feed it to your cat.
15) Poo in a hole... anywhere outside. Perhaps a beach.
16) Rename all you friends and only refer to them with their 'new names' (if lacking in friends, refer to 5)
17) Make an Astro Boy costume out of things found in your bathroom and wear it out and about
18) Meow. A lot.
19) Rearrange everyone's draws e.g. Dad ends up with Baby Mike's bootees, Mum with dad's ties!
20) Print this list out, complete EVERYTHING and only then can you eat it. With cat.
PS. Thankyou to Eva, who likes to eat cat.
2) Throw a dance party consisting of ONLY ONE artist as the music provider (eg. Simon & Garfunkel)
3) Have a Shia LeBouf movie marathon (Watch Holes numerous times)
4) Invent a language to use to convey "inappropriate messages" with your friends.
5) If the above is not applicable due to the fact that you have no friends, utilise the holidays to go get some
6) Go vegeterian for a whole 2 weeks
7) Go carnivore for a whole 2 weeks
8) Communicate in mime for a whole 2 weeks
9) Write a romantic love song, get out your ukelele and serenade everyone on your street. For prime amusement grab someone to film your neighbours reactions.
10) Set up a lemonade stand outside your house for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
11) Organise and ALL MALE CARWASH for some extra pennies to buy your sherbets
12) Write a poem consisting of these words: "kelp", "marmalade", "scrub", "FLOOGLE", "sxcbeest". Read it to your English class when you come back to school to prove that you kept up your literacy skills while on holidays
13) Try and rewrite the entire Harry Potter series in your own words OR continue them from the point of view of Albus Severus Potter.
14) Mix a spoonful from every jar in your house and feed it to your cat.
15) Poo in a hole... anywhere outside. Perhaps a beach.
16) Rename all you friends and only refer to them with their 'new names' (if lacking in friends, refer to 5)
17) Make an Astro Boy costume out of things found in your bathroom and wear it out and about
18) Meow. A lot.
19) Rearrange everyone's draws e.g. Dad ends up with Baby Mike's bootees, Mum with dad's ties!
20) Print this list out, complete EVERYTHING and only then can you eat it. With cat.
PS. Thankyou to Eva, who likes to eat cat.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Owl of Brunswick St/Johnston St Intersection
Well hello there ... ladies!
It's been a while since I've posted...ladies.
Good to be back in the soft caress of my blog ... ladies.
(Just a tip, if you want to make anything sleazy, anything at all, just say after a little pause "...ladies" at the end of your sentences. If you really wanna turn the creep on, add in a few "If you know what I mean"s and you will be an instant sleaze.)
As propesterous as it may sound, my life has been a busy swirl of performing, homeworking, schooling, mooing and other various "ing"s that has prevented me from really squeezing in enough time to whip a decent blog, for your enjoyment.
But today as I stood waiting for the 112 tram (Which, by the way, is the best tram in Melbourne) on Brunswick St, at the corner of Johnston something occured that just had to be "blogged" about. It is quite good that in this day and age that the verb "to blog" exists.
As I waited in the confusingly hot weather of Melbourne's autumn, I heard a strange sound. Unfortunately it is rather difficult to replicate the noise via written word. How I wish, fair reader, you were gathered around me, sitting beside a crackling fire, and I could tell you my tale spoken with great passion. Alas.
Here is my attempt:
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!"
It rose above the noise of the busy traffic and pierced the usual sounds of suburbia with it's bizarrity. (Bizarrity may or may not be a word) It sounded like a strangely loud and big owl.
I could see others on the street looking to the source of the noise. What was it?
Then my eyes fell on the opposite corner. A man was standing a little way from the road, holding a bag. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses, looked about middle age and was quite large. There he was, at the intersection calling "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!" over and over again, to no one in particular.
It was hilarious enough, but after a few more calls, he looked as if "My work here is done!" and he turned and went on his way, looking as normal as if he had just transacted money from an ATM.
Thankyou, owl-hoot-calling man, for amusing me on my commute home, but perhaps it was not for others entertainment. Maybe you thoough
I hope I see you again.
I hope also, that I see this blog again.
Until that moment in time,
Mairead.
It's been a while since I've posted...ladies.
Good to be back in the soft caress of my blog ... ladies.
(Just a tip, if you want to make anything sleazy, anything at all, just say after a little pause "...ladies" at the end of your sentences. If you really wanna turn the creep on, add in a few "If you know what I mean"s and you will be an instant sleaze.)
As propesterous as it may sound, my life has been a busy swirl of performing, homeworking, schooling, mooing and other various "ing"s that has prevented me from really squeezing in enough time to whip a decent blog, for your enjoyment.
But today as I stood waiting for the 112 tram (Which, by the way, is the best tram in Melbourne) on Brunswick St, at the corner of Johnston something occured that just had to be "blogged" about. It is quite good that in this day and age that the verb "to blog" exists.
As I waited in the confusingly hot weather of Melbourne's autumn, I heard a strange sound. Unfortunately it is rather difficult to replicate the noise via written word. How I wish, fair reader, you were gathered around me, sitting beside a crackling fire, and I could tell you my tale spoken with great passion. Alas.
Here is my attempt:
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!"
It rose above the noise of the busy traffic and pierced the usual sounds of suburbia with it's bizarrity. (Bizarrity may or may not be a word) It sounded like a strangely loud and big owl.
I could see others on the street looking to the source of the noise. What was it?
Then my eyes fell on the opposite corner. A man was standing a little way from the road, holding a bag. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses, looked about middle age and was quite large. There he was, at the intersection calling "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE!" over and over again, to no one in particular.
It was hilarious enough, but after a few more calls, he looked as if "My work here is done!" and he turned and went on his way, looking as normal as if he had just transacted money from an ATM.
Thankyou, owl-hoot-calling man, for amusing me on my commute home, but perhaps it was not for others entertainment. Maybe you thoough
I hope I see you again.
I hope also, that I see this blog again.
Until that moment in time,
Mairead.
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