My Return to Oz

A blog dedicated to the epic adventures of Conor the Gallant as he explores the uncharted terrains of suburban Australia.

[myreturntooz]

Oh Look I Still Have a Tumblr Blog

A few very busy weeks led me to neglect this here blog. And as the weeks progressed and the amount of tales began to pile up, it seemed harder and harder to get my writing fingers on again. But as I sit here on a quiet and peaceful summer evening with nothing immediate to worry about or do, I thought I would take the opportunity to put together a few sentences in a manner that would receive a least a 6/10 from my fifth class teacher.

As hinted, I have done a hell of a lot over the last eight weeks that I have failed to document here. I may never get around to telling every story because damn, there has been so many. So in this post let me simply recount - just for myself if not for anyone else - everything that I've done. I will even add pretty pictures for those more visually inclined. 

After my few weeks living alone in Newtown, my uncle Kendall, his wife Colette and their two younguns Sebastian and Ambrose arrived home from their Europe holiday. They were kind enough to tell me I could stay for literally as long as I wanted. I had a week or so before I started my internship with Sydney Theatre Company. And genuinely, the best part of my three weeks with the internationally renowned theatre company are the pictures I took on the way to work each day. Behold:

The end of those weeks which defined the word tedious finally came to an end and I could move on to the next stage of my Oz excursion. I had a week of relaxing and working before five of not just the greatest, but most important days of my life were upon me. Friday I worked two back-to-back shifts and met a radio celebrity in the pub afterwards who invited us all to a house party. Saturday night I attended said house party and drank AN APPROPRIATE LEVEL OF ALCOHOL AND NO MORE. A mere few hours after arriving home from said house party, I was on a plane to the red heart of Australia where I spent three incredible days with some incredible people. 

Upon my arrival back in Newtown, I didn't have much time to mourn in my post-tour-of-central-Australia blues as I was off again. This time back to my grandmother's in Newcastle. At some point during my previous stay there, I began writing a number of short film scripts, hoping to come back later in the year and shoot them with the actors I had met. As the weeks and months progressed, I began to worry that I would never make it back or get any video making done. Which is something that graced the top of my Oz to do list. But I eventually got back and I managed to shoot two videos within five days. I couldn't have been happier. I can't wait to edit these and get them online.

The next stone to land on was a return to Brisbane because apparently this is now a stone hopping metaphor. The week in Brisnyland was non stop and I enjoyed every second of it. From climbing a mountain hungover in the rain to breaking down on the motorway to a pool party to the Lion King to getting the worst sun burn I will hopefully ever get in my life, it truly was an amazing week. Oh it was also my birthday at some point on there too.

My week in Brisbane was followed by a week in Melbourne. Such a very different handful of days but equally as fantastic. If I could describe Aussie cities' culture with TV shows, Brisbane would be Dexter: cool and edgy but a little too mainstream to be bohemian; Melbourne would be Twin Peaks: arty, peculiar but still very enjoyable; and Sydney would be The Walking Dead: everybody watches it and it genuinely does have some great parts but deep down everyone knows it's not really all that great (and the zombies in this metaphor can be the Irish and British).

And that is a brief synopsis of the last eight weeks of my life. In time I would like to come back and tell each story in adequate detail. But for now, my next stop awaits. Tomorrow I will be jetting back to Brisbane to celebrate my sister's graduation from her master's degree.

With only THREE weeks left in the land of Oz, I am trying to enjoy every second of it. So if I don't post again before I return home, know that it's because I am too preoccupied living the not-at-all-overly-used-phrse, "the Aussie dream".

Until next time, Tumblr.

- 14/12/2014

[myreturntooz]

We have some sad news to report. Fox has officially cancelled Conor's Kitchen. Apparently we were "too racist" and "making less sense with every episode" and "murdering animals in completely unethical fashion". While we go to the pub and mourn our losses with Joss Whedon and David Lynch, take a moment to admire all of the great meals I managed to cook for myself while staying here in Newtown alone.

- 11/11/2014

[myreturntooz]

Conor's Kitchen: Episode IIII

Here we have it, our mid season finale of Conor's Kitchen! This is show you have all come to love that proves parody, satire and inspired humour goes down much better than anything original.

Today I am going back to my roots and creating a traditional Irish meal known as rís agus sicín. Which to all us non-Irish speakers, means 'Soil of the Gods'. 

This is a very unique and complicated meal. The chicken is cooked Jekyll and Hyde style, which results in two very different sides of the same breast. Observe:

As you can see, one side of the of the chicken is baked in bread crumbs, stuffed with ham and cheese. The other side is filled with green pesto and cream cheese, wrapped in bacon.

The method:

Find a local chicken farm

Sit on the ground with your legs crossed and arms behind your back.

Close your eyes and proceed to sing "Good Morning, Good Morning" by the Beatles. 

The first chicken that looks your way is your prey.

Stalk the chicken out for at least 13 days. Find out its living habits, who it hangs out with, what pub it attends every Friday evening. 

Finally ask the chicken out for dinner. Little does it know, it IS the dinner.

Lock your chicken in the cupboard under your sink. 

Antagonise the chicken on a daily basis.

Once you are sure the chicken has finally succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome, take it out and watch The Notebook together. 

Try not to cry.

Cry a lot.

Your chicken is finally ready for consumption.

Enjoy! 

- 11/11/2014

p.s. Mid-season finales are such a stupid and pointless idea. Especially when the season only has like 12 episodes altogether anyway. Curse you, AMC.

p.p.s. Conor's Kitchen's editor doesn't know how Roman Numerals work so stop sending us hate mail ok, you're making her cry.

[myreturntooz]

Conor's Kitchen: Episode III

Conor is very moderately excited to welcome you to episode three of Conor's Kitchen, the show that provides the perfect amount of misinformation regarding all things food.

Today we bring to you a very fine and balanced Serbian dish called Lembu Terbakar which roughly translates to 'Cow on Fire'.

The Italians might call this spaghetti bolognese but what would they know?

Step won: gather all ingredients; pasta sticks, ground up cow, what's up docs, salary, ogers, vampire repellent and anything that was originally made from tomatoes. Throw some form of pig in there too.

Step too: put into a pot and cook.

Step tree: let the sauce burn to the bottom of the pot. This is the tricky part but this what makes it Lembu Terbakar. You know you have left it burn long enough if you smell something that reminds you of the time you thought you could dry your rain-soaked socks on the heater. Check the pot and if you think you might need some form of gardening utensil to scrape the charred ingredients of the bottom of the pot, the sauce is ready to consume. 

I say consume rather than because it's not really an enjoyable experience.

- 11/11/2014

[myreturntooz]

Conor's Kitchen: Episode II

G'day and welcome back to - AH SHIT THERE ARE ANTS EVERYWHERE! ONE SECOND!

...

Excuse me.

G'day and welcome back to episode two of Conor's Kitchen, the show that isn't really a show because this is Tumblr, not TV. Our pilot episode received such great ratings that there was no choice other than to make up more nonsense about food I've cooked.

Today we are having vedges mit eine burger-sandvich mit vegetablesalat.

This is a German delicacy created by a man named Klaus Gruber in his basement in Hamburg in 1878. You don't need to Google that because it's 100% true. The vedges can be difficult to perfect. To gain optimal taste, ensure you leave them on for at least 10 minutes longer than you think you should. This way, they are nice and crunchy and all of those disgusting carbs are scorched right out. The burger-sandvich is topped with caramelised onions (well, they would be caramelised if I knew what that means), cheese (because you can never have enough cholesterol) and bacon rashers that I cooked but then completely forgot about, leaving them lying sad and lonely in the kitchen while I watched Hitchcock's not-at-all-stupidly-named Frenzy. 

For the full recipe, please check out our new website: www.createafreewebsiteforyourcookingshow.com/conorskitchen 

- 11/11/2014

[myreturntooz]

Conor's Kitchen: Episode I

Good day, bonjour, conas atá tú? Welcome to the pilot episode of CONOR'S KITCHEN! It's like Hell's Kitchen but without Gordon Ramsay or anyone who actually knows what the term charbroiling means. But rest assured, the food is perfectly average and hasn't given me food poisoning yet.

Today we are cooking elbows à la anything-I-found-in-le-frigo...

... with not-parmesan-because-what-student-could-possibly-afford-parmesan cheese.

The trick is to not cook the vegetables properly to add a surprising crunch with every forkful. The chorizo makes sure you can't taste the over cooked pasta with a sharp Spanish bite even though I'm pretending this meal is French. You know you have added just the right amount of not-parmesan cheese when you can't taste it and you realise it made not one bit of difference to your meal.

After, at most, 15 minutes of strenuous cheffing, sit back, grab a fork that looks like it has a growth problem and watch Curb Your Enthusiasm. Don't forget to take a picture of your creation and post it on Instagram with the caption "just cooked a delicious pasta dish for myself! lol #soEuropean". Because what the hell is the point of doing anything if you don't tell anyone about it?

And yes, I do appreciate the irony.

That concludes this episode of Conor's Kitchen. Tune in next week for more marvellous mediocre meals made in mere minutes!

- 10/11/2014

[myreturntooz]

Welcome back to Tumblr, Conor.

Thank you, other Conor.

Behold some of Newtown's incredible artwork. These pictures don't do the town justice, but this is what I encounter on just my walk to Newtown Station every day.

- 10/11/2014

[myreturntooz]

Bachelor Life: Part Six - Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel

After an extremely busy week, the next few days fell suddenly flat. These are the kind of days that make me miss knowing a lot of people. Not that I have a multitude of friends back home; but I least would be able to find someone to join me if I ever wanted to do something. There are quite a few things I would love to do here but none that I would like to do alone. For example at Newtown Hotel, they have what they call Smash Cut Cinema. Every Tuesday they show a film for free. You can go, buy drinks and popcorn and watch a movie in a social atmosphere. Last Tuesday they were showing David Lynch’s mind-scrambling Mulholland Dr. I would have absolutely loved to have gone with a few friends and chilled watching the film with a few drinks. I thought about going alone and relaxing with a good film. But I couldn’t bring myself to getting primmed up to take myself to a bar.

I was expecting more shifts to come in that week too but not one did. Which meant I had no structure to work a week around. I find when I have a lot to do; I do more on the side. But when I have nothing to do, I end up doing nothing. So a week that I hoped would be as busy and exciting as the one before ended up accumulating to, well, a lot of video games.

I went to my cousin’s the Monday night for dinner, her and her partner living just five minutes from me. They recently brought little Jacob Alexander into the family. I never get animated about young babies, but when I held the little guy, I felt surprisingly paternal. Look at how adorable I am:

The rest of the week was, unfortunately, utterly uneventful (that was probably the best alliteration I’ve ever accomplished [there I go again]). I would wake up mid-morning, read, do a bit of writing, wander into town, roam around, come home, lunch, play Dead Island, dinner, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Facebook, fall asleep at 2:00am. I was just waiting for something to come up. Thursday evening, my uncle Kendall, his wife Collette and two boys Sebastian and Ambrose arrived home. Suddenly the house was infinitely more animated.

Most of the weekend was spent with the lil lads. As most people do, they absolutely love spending time with me. Friday evening I was called into work an hour before the shift started. Saturday I went to see Wicked. I had seen Wicked once before, on the West End. And it was spectacular. Unfortunately, this Aussie production didn’t quite match. The choreography was quite lame and I spotted a lot of mistakes from the dancers. The guy who played Viero couldn’t dance to save his life. It was almost as if he had no brain (LOOOOOOOOL). I also found myself disliking Guh-linda’s voice a tad. Aside from these discrepancies, the overall production – particularly the set and costumes – were just terrific.

Monday was both Kendall and Sebastian’s birthdays. Sebastian turned four and Kendall turned, well, much more than four. I bought the little man Dr Suess books. Books that I read when I was his age. Books that only upon purchasing them again as an adult did I realise how much of an impact Dr Suess had on me. The guy is a genius. So I thought it would be a suitable gift for a kid like my cousin. Sebastian, I can already tell, will be a very intelligent and cultured man. He has an obsession with the Beatles. I could play a song and he would not only know the song and be able to sing some of the lyrics (bear in mind, the child isn’t old enough to read yet), but he could tell me which of the Beatles was the predominant singer. For instance, I played With a Little Help From My Friends and Sebastian shouted out “Ringo sings this!” I had to Google it to prove to myself that he was correct. Quite astonishing. Growing up in a place like Newtown can only help to grow this already evident appreciation of art and culture.

For his birthday we went to Cuji beach: the first time in my 18 weeks in Australia that I have gone swimming. Impressive, right? Well as soon as I got to the water, I didn’t take a second though and dived in head first. It was bliss. I swam around for a while before taking time to sunbathe. The temperature was hovering around the early thirties. I was revelling in the heat. That evening however, I had to don my shirt and pants for work. Now, all I want is sun.

I say as I sit here inside writing this while the glorious weather prevails outside.

- 01/10/2014

[myreturntooz]

Bachelor Life: Part Five - It's a Wonderful Life: the Rest of the Story

Now to tell you aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall about my new job.

On the Friday after I got the job, I had a uniform check. I met at the BENCHMARQUE office with my new waistcoat and tie (I can never again wear a black waistcoat casually without thinking of work). Seven other new employees and I went into a room to sign things and talk about other things. I looked around the table and one suspicion of mine was confirmed: BENCHMARQUE favour good looking people. Eight new employees and they are each as good looking as the next. 

The next day was my first shift. I spent about two hours preparing myself: my uniform, how to carry three plates at a time, how to get to where I was going. I made my first mistake straight away. I decided to get buses. Let me tell you this, young padawan: when trying to get somewhere quickly in Sydney, never EVER get buses. Tut tut, Conor, silly mistake. After panicking for the whole journey that I might be late, I got there with one minute to spare. The event was a wedding, on the water in Watsons Bay. The location was incredible and it was a perfect day. I was painfully nervous about the whole situation but I did my best to keep my cool. And somehow, I managed not to mess anything up. I applied the Irish charm when required, I concentrated as hard as I could not to spill anything and I made sure not to make any Conor mistakes. There was just one moment of worry for me. I was walking to a table when who I think was the best man pulled me aside. “I saw you, mate!” He said. I was like, wut? “You were checking out the bride, mate, I saw you!” I just laughed. I then went to my boss and started telling her. She laughed too, thankfully. I was when I started walking towards the bride that I decided it was time to leave the room. The end of the shift came soon after I went home, relatively happy with my work.

The following Tuesday brought my next shift. This was at a place called Fairground Follies, just a half an hour walk from where I’m staying. Fairground Follies was a sort of museum for old carnival attractions such as a carousel and one of those creepy dancing robot machines like what the Simpsons always take the piss out of. It was a really spectacular looking place. The event was an annual dinner party type thing for McDonald’s managers and employees. There were maybe 400 or so attendees with about two dozen staff. And my job was as easy as it could have been. Roam about and keep everyone supplied with drink. The atmosphere was electric and I was found myself actually enjoying myself. A lot of the people there were quite young and let me tell you: I have never been hit on so many times in my life. I could barely walk straight by the end of the night with how big my head had grown. But I tried to keep my concentration focused on doing a good job. Which waned at just one moment. I was delivering four glasses of beer to a table. My attention wasn’t fully trained on what I was doing and I didn’t have the glasses properly placed on the tray, which meant when I lifted the third beer, the fourth tipped and covered the poor guy at the table. GODDAMNIT! I did my best to clean it up, apologised profusely and made sure not to go near that table again. Fortunately, I made no other Conor mistakes and went home happy again.

I had another shift the very next day: on the roof of a skyscraper right in the middle of the city. The view was beautiful; looking down at Sydney Harbour. I took a perfectly underwhelming photograph on my phone.

Nick, who worked the wedding with me, joined me on the roof. We stood doing nothing for about fifteen minutes. No one came looking for us and we had no information about a possible supervisor. So we just took in the view and waited. Finally a woman came looking for us and when she found us, put us behind a cocktail bar. At first, I was nervous about the notion of making cocktails. But it turned out that the two cocktails were pre mixed and on tap. Easy as, to coin an Aussie expression. So Nick and I stood behind the cocktail bar for five hours having a great time. Two nights in a row, I found myself really enjoying the work. There were four or five girls working as volunteers as runners, collecting glasses, etc. Nick made the move and we went to Frankie’s Pizza, where I was the previous weekend, for a few drinks. It was a great night.

On a high from two great shifts in a row, I arrived at my next one with enthusiasm. Enthusiasm that was drained almost immediately. The event was a wine tasting party for high class business type snobby white people. And it was goddamn boring. For four and a half hours, I worked laps of a small conference room, topping up the glasses of people in suits who talked bullshit about wine and money and whatever other thrilling topics these kind of people talk about. Every time I walked past a fellow staff member, we exchanged a look of “this is the worst thing in the world”. The cabbage flavoured icing on the bean flavoured cake that was that evening was a perfectly racist but not racist remark from one of the suitmen. A lady when I asked her would she like a top up enquired about my nationality. When I told her I was Irish, she lit up. I smiled politely and walked away. A few minutes later, I walked past her again, her standing with another man. The man, just at the moment they were out of my peripheral vision decided it would be absolutely hilarious to say in a non-whisper “to be sure, to be sure”. I turned and performed the obligatory laugh before walking away again. What an asshole. Like the messiah, the end of my shift came with immense relief (that didn’t really make sense).

Friday brought the fourth shift in a row. A barista shift in a restored factory now used for the purposes of art projects and initiations.  I told the office when they called me about the shift that I had absolutely no experience in coffee making. But I did not want to pass down work so said I should have no problem picking it up. The event was some form of conference day where speakers came to talk about hoe great their ideas are. There were only three 20 minute blocks during the day that I actually had to do work. Every break between the speakers, these avant-garde arty people flooded to the coffee machines to satisfy their stereotypical caffeine addiction. In each coffee rush, we probably made about 150 coffees between the two of us. My job was relatively simple and repetitive: put grinds in the holder thing, but the thing into the machine and press the button. I was a natural after the first fifty. A brilliantly easy six hour shift to finish a great first week of working.

I like this job.

- 30/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

Bachelor Life: Part Four - Gingerdead Man 2: Passion of the Crust

Wednesday morning I took my laptop and headed for Newtown, my plan being to sit in a café and just write until my laptop died. I sat in a place called Corelli's and opened up that short story I began the week before. There was something about the Newtown atmosphere combined with chilling by a café window watching the world go by that is simultaneously very calming and very motivating. I sat in the café for four hours. It was here in Corelli's that I received the call telling me I got the job at BENCHMARQUE. I bought the nicest wrap I've ever had in celebration.

The next day I took to another café, this one with WiFi, planning to update my blog. Obviously I didn't get very far with that plan seeing as I am posting these two weeks later. But again, sitting in a café simply writing is something that I only thought Daniel Craig did in movies. I didn't realise how soothing it was.

On the topic of writing, I have spent most of my time here in Newtown doing just that. From just walking up Newtown's main road once, one could tell how creative the city is. As I've mentioned in a previous post, incredible street art can be every you look; there are brilliant book and art shops all up the street; most of the population are young thriving artists. For these reasons, it's a perfect place to come and be yourself. And if yourself is a creative self, then all the better for you.

I have probably done more creative writing in the last three weeks then I have in the previous two years. I love that this almost lost hobby is being reignited. At this very moment, I sit in another café whose walls are lined with an collection entitled "Lucid Dreaming". Apt. I can now say that if I ever decide to move back to Australia, I would most definitely live here.

Not here in the café, I mean here in Newtown.

- 30/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

Bachelor Life: Part Three - The Last Exorcism Part II

Tuesday morning I had an interview with a catering agency called BENCHMARQUE. They always print it in all capital letters so I feel need the need to do the same. A few weeks ago, I started to apply for catering agencies. I did a bit of aul Google research and made a list of al the agencies in Sydney I could find. I then when back to the top of list, which was BENCHMARQUE. I made out a cover letter, filled in an application form and sent it away. At this stage, I had been looking for jobs for almost twenty minutes and I was mentally, literally, physically, figuratively, spiritually and metaphorically exhausted. So I took a break from the game.

The next day I received a call from BENCHMARQUE asking would I like to attend an interview. Score, I thought. I figured that I needn't apply to any more agencies until I see how this interview goes. I had to wait until I finished with The Wiggles as the interview sessions they conduct are during the day. And last Tuesday was the day. I woke up nice and early to prepare myself. I did my hair to perfection, shaved my face down to perfection and put together possibly the most perfect outfit of all time. From the unpolished shoes, to the unironed shirt, to the Marvel belt, how could anyone not employ me?

My imaginary friend took this photo.

I reached the interview/ skills assessment and joined the other 21 applicants vying for a position. We began by going one by one around the room introducing ourselves, saying where we're from and describing our past experience. The first thing to note was that I was definitely the most under-qualified person in the room. Mr A was a waiter at a restaurant for five years, he now works as a barista in a high street coffee chain. Ms B was assistant manager at a restaurant back home and she had been working with an agency for three years. Mr C did a hotel managing course and has 324 years experience with everywhere in the world.

Conor O'Brien has two years experience front of house at a theatre...... High five.

The next thing I noted was that out of the 22 people in the room, only three were Australian. Two were English, and everyone else covered every metaphorical corner of the globe: from Brazil to America to Chile to China to Germany to Russia. There was even an Irish person there. Can you imagine?

Apart from knocking over a glass on a table, I felt the session went quite well for me. I spoke up when I needed to and I acted with confidence. I left not really knowing whether I had a chance or not. I mean, I showed that I wasn't an idiot but I also showed that I have zero experience in this field.

NEVERTHELESS!

As I sat drinking a mocha (ya I drink mochas now) in a coffee shop Wednesday morning, my yellow phone began to buzz, sending my heart into fits of flutter. BENCHMARQUE called. BENCHMARQUE gave me a job. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. One application, one phone call, one interview and I got a job. It was all I could do to not yell out BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM right there in the coffee shop. They told me that I needed to attend a uniform check that Friday and I have my first shift that Saturday.

Happy days.

- 16/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

Bachelor Life: Part Two - Leprechaun 5: Leprechaun in the Hood

Sunday I awoke fresh as a dying daisy in November round about midday. It was shopping day. I put together a list of everything that I would need. I decided to break the shopping trip into two: Sunday I would get all the essentials such as bread, milk, cereal, fruit, veg, etc. Monday I would retrieve the dinner elements. I located via Google Maps the nearest Coles and set out.

My first mistake was wearing a long sleeve shirt and tracksuit pants. Within minutes of walking, I was sweating. But I wasn't bothered to turn back and get changed. I reached the shopping centre after an approximate 25 minute walk. I surveyed my shopping list and was confident I would be able to carry the bags back. This was my second mistake. I got inside, grabbed a shopping trolley and began my hunt. If anybody saw me, I can bet they would have felt so sorry for me. I can imagine I looked like a completely lost studentboy attempting to shop for the first time. Which was, to be fair, exactly what it was. After close to two hours of yo-yo-ing up and down aisles, I had accumulated everything I needed.

When going through the checkout, I began to doubt that this plan was a good one. By that I mean I had about eight full shopping bags. And a 25 minute walk in 20 degree heat. Nevertheless, I paid for my goods, lined my forearms with shopping bags and with my head held high, began to strut back home. Literally thirty metres down the road, I was covered in a new layer of sweat and my arms had extended by about two inches from the weight of the bags. I also realised that I didn't really know how to get back. And my phone was in my pocket. And my hand was obstructed by the excess of groceries and was unable to reach it. You can see that I was experiencing problems.

My overly active imagination began concocting images of Superman or Hancock arriving it my side to whisk me and my shopping home. I searched the sky but found no miracle.

Until I found it.

Half way down the road from Coals, glowing like the Holy Grail, radiant as Bruce Willis' head in twilight, a miracle sent by Steven Spielberg himself, a shopping trolley ex machina. I almost collapsed over the trolley in anticipation of landing my bags inside. At that moment I was so overcome with relief that I failed to recognise the next problem. It wasn't until I had wheeled the trolley half way home that I realised.

What the hell was I going to do with the trolley when I got home? As I awkwardly wheeled my saviour back home, I noticed how many distasteful looks I was receiving. I then figured how weird it would have looked for a young man to be wheeling a trolley around the middle of town. A new layer of sweat started to pour out, this time more out of anxiety than anything else. I surely looked like an idiot. I just kept telling myself that it was only twenty minutes to get home. That would have been the case if I had gone the right way. Forty minutes later, after loudly navigating the trolley through seemingly endless amounts of suburban streets, while the echoes of aggravated dogs following me, I finally arrived back home.

I parallel parked my trolley in the garden and carried by shopping inside. I was damn exhausted. I went back outside and looked at the burden that was now a trolley in my garden. I decided to think no more on the subject and watched a few episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm to soothe myself in the fact that I could have done something a lot more stupid.

The next morning, I took my new vehicle and headed back to the shopping centre. In felt less anxious wheeling it back, as I thought I looked like a good soul driving an abandoned trolley to where it belonged. With a wave of relief I reached Coles. I bought the rest of the food I needed and this time I was indeed able to carry the bags home without the help of a trolley.

What I have learned from this experience

Don't overestimate your ability to carry shopping in one trip.

Don't steal shopping trolleys.

- 15/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

Bachelor Life: Part One - Rambo: First Blood Part II

As you may have guessed by now, I am living by myself at my uncle's house while he's away in Newtown. I like to call this my Bachelor Life Stage. I'm currently in talks with MTV to produce a Welcome to My Crib special. It's looking promising. 

As soon as had I arrived at my illustrious bachelor pad, I had left for Biffy (more about that in previous post). I got home near midnight and crashed. I awoke again relatively early the next morning and I had barely enough time to finish breakfast before I was collected by my cousin to go to a family gathering thing yolk. I was dropped home later that day by another cousin and again, spent little more than an hour in my new home before I left again to meet friends in town for a few drinks. So far I had expended hardly three hours awake in my new home and I been there for the better part of a weekend. 

Anyway, that night, I met a few Wiggly friends in the city for the birthday celebration of a friend's brother. We hit some Mexican place on some street and spent the majority of the night there. That was until Dom nearly got kicked out. The details of this situation are not really that important. What is important is that Dom did virtually nothing wrong and got threatened by a security guard to get "his skull cracked in". We spent close to half an hour attempting to diffuse the situation before we gave up and left. It was unfortunate because I had really been enjoying the place; the food was great, the drinks were good and the atmosphere was buzzing. 

We wandered up a few streets and reached a place called ... ah, I can't remember this place's name either. But it was damn awesome. We were greeted by a much friendlier bouncer, who turned out to be from Dublin. Inside, the place was like a much cleaner and, dare I say it, better version of Limerick's esteemed Costello's Tavern. The walls were lined with pop culture posters, it was dark and gloomy, they sold cans from behind the bar and the music was absolutely top notch: Queen, David Bowie, The Clash, Journey, to name but a few. As we rocked out to Bohemian Rhapsody, we noticed that we were gathering an audience. Later Clare got talking to one of our spectators and she was told that they were amazed that people our age knew and liked old-timer music such as this. Backhanded compliments are great.

After what was a really great, the amazing Daniel drove me back to my Newtown pad. They came in for a cup of tea. By this I mean that Clare had some tea, Daniel tried his best to stay awake at the table and Dom didn't try at all, merely crashing on the couch. At around 4am, the trio left and I took my turn to crash asleep.

I looked through my phone the next morning and out of a sorry batch of poorly framed and perfectly blurry photos, I pulled the two best:

Miley stole the tongue thing from me. There is nothing original about that girl.

- 15/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

I had almost forgotten about these. I suppose these act as proof that I was indeed working with The Wiggles for five weeks and wasn't just making shite up for the benefit of an interesting blog post.

[myreturntooz]

But I Was Never Crowned

Mountains was the first Biffy Clyro song I heard. It quickly became one of my most favourite tracks of all time. This I was most looking forward to and they closed the performance with an epic rendition. I once again had to capture a small portion of the song as it was such a momentous moment.

- 11/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

I've Started Falling Apart

I really hate when people spend half a concert with their phone out recording. But this song has significance to me and I had to take the smallest of videos as a reminder of how god damn magnificent it was to witness it live. Simon Neil played the whole song just by himself with an acoustic guitar. It was so humble. So real.

- 11/09/2014

[myreturntooz]

Music simply can not be captured on camera. Not even film can accurately represent the astonishing atmosphere provided by live music. I tried to grab a few pictures and videos of the performance can these seriously don't do Biffy Clyro justice.

However, it is interesting to look at these photos in a certain order. They definitely tell some form of story.

-10/09/2014