To fill you in on the latest happenings in my little world - Ian and I just arrived home from the Canadian Swing Championships at le Hôtel du Lac Carling, a resort in the Laurentian mountains in Quebec. Now you might think that this sounds like a luxury jaunt in paradise, but Think Again.

The story begins, after much confusion, as we find ourselves working as volunteers - me in exchange for a full pass of dances and workshops, and Ian for $10 an hour as a non-dancer. Friday afternoon - After a harrowing 2 hour drive down the freeway in the pouring rain with zero visibility, deafening out-of-tune singing, a van full of dancers and 15 cases of beer we arrive safely at the hotel. The first evening rolls by without major incident, and after a poker tournament (which both Ian and I play, but neither win), my first stint working on the registration desk, and some pretty sparse social dancing on my part, we fall into bed (an inflatable mattress on the floor of someone's hotel room - gotta love free accommodation!!) at 4am. *Just a note on the sleeping arrangements - if you have ever shared a poorly inflated air mattress with a 230 pound man then you know it's like trying get a decent sleep on the back of a moving camel. On a bamboo life raft. In a tsunami. Not Good.*

Three hours later I am back sitting at the registration desk - the only grim hold I have on sanity provided by Tylenol and a coffee the size of my head. And so begins my day, registering dancers and competitors, answering questions (mostly in my pathetic French (which, incidently, improved HUGELY over the course of the weekend - I was even complimented on my accent! Nice.)) and trying not to fall into a sleep-deprived coma. Despite all my bitching, I actually really enjoyed the work - it was great to meet so many people from all over, and to feel a real sense of satisfaction watching the competitions and knowing that I helped organise it. But at the time the warm fuzzies were definitely overtaken by extreme frustration when 9 hours later WITHOUT A BREAK I find myself STILL on the registration desk, with the organisers nowhere to be found. Luckily, Lisa (Ubiquitous Committee Member Extraordinaire) helped sort it out, and finally (still only having had one dance the whole weekend) I collapse into bed early (okay, 3am is early for the CSC).

Four hours later and there I am, back on the registration desk - known by all who enter as Dante's seventh circle of hell :D - and again drinking a mammoth coffee, this time with a Red Bull chaser (as I sat there I could have sworn I saw a black cat walk past the same doorway twice... but it was probably just the caffeine). I won't go into too much bitching (I did enough of it there! *shame*) but suffice to say the scheduling gripes are eventually sorted out and I am set free to roam in my natural habitat. I take an awesome workshop (as a lead) with Sylvia Sykes, swing dance legend and all-round sassy chick) and catch up with some friends I'd missed so far (including those magificent Texan bastards Matt and Todd - love those boys). At around 10pm we decide to go back to our room to relax for a bit, in preparation for a huge night of dancing and cutting loose in the party room (with free booze and the consummate Shaun "Colonel" Sanders' famous 7-layer shots). Unfortunately, as soon as my head hits the pillow I crash like a kid after a showbag-induced sugar binge. Ian wakes me up at 4am, and I drag myself out of bed, cursing that I'd missed my one night of freedom and fun, and any chance to get my work's worth from this event. The ballroom is still in full (well, 1/2) swing, so I catch a dance with one of my poker buddies from Quebec city, then take a quick stop to say goodbye to my Texans and Detroiters in the party room.

Cut to 8:30am the next morning - in the minivan on the way home to Montreal, we find a brain damaged Kate, a very relieved Ian, and big Wes from Winnipeg crammed in the back, and Sylvia Sykes, Yuval Hod and some chick from New York in the front. After an infinitely more entertaining trip than on the way up (including discussions about politics, dating and travel - that Yuval is damn entertaining) we drop the teachers off at the airport and make a last ditch sprint for home.

As the door slams and our luggage hits the floor, we sink onto the couch with a boneshaking sigh of relief that rings with an unspoken vow - Never. Again.

It's good to be home.

The Simpsons. For real.

YES! YES! YES!!! I got my flight fixed!!!!!!

Last night I (with Ian for moral support) went out to the airport for the FIFTH time to try to get my flight sorted out. After a bus, a train, and another bus (and an hour of travel) we arrived at the Dorval interchange, only to see our final bus to the airport driving off into the distance. It's pissing down with rain and we settle in for a sad and soggy 45 minute wait for the next bus. Just then a couple of girls who were on the previous bus with us ran over and offered us a lift in their taxi out to the airport. Long story short, these lovely girls from Mexico helped us out when we were stuck, poor and running short on time. I can't remember their names, but I am so touched that there are still people out there who will put themselves out and help total strangers, just because they can. A huge karmic thankyou to them. :)

Anyhoo, we finally arrive out at the airport and after two long hours of dramas and phonecalls to Australia we FINALLY got it done!!! A MASSIVE thankyou to Mona and Ralitza at the BA desk for going all-out and getting it done. They were really helpful and sympathetic (after all the messarounds and butt-fuckery from everyone from the travel agent to the phone service jerks, it was a refreshing change!) and did a sensational job. W00t!!!

So I am officially and finally leaving Montreal on the 16th of July, spending 12 hours in London (hopefully I could swing lunch with some of the Aussie kids while I'm there!), doing a quick change in Singapore, then stopping off in Perth for 5 days before finally arrive home in Adelaide at 3pm on Sunday the 23rd of July. As much as i hate to admit it, I can't wait to get home. I miss it.

But at risk of flogging a dead horse... WOOOOOOO NO MORE DRAMA!!! YES!!!!

In the tradition of my life as a 14 year old boy, I've spent the morning watching an Undergrads marathon, drinking coffee and writing my blog. As far as I know, this could possibly be the low point of human existence.

This week has been an exercise in being screwed around - I still haven't found a sound recordist for the ASO audition, and it looks like I'm not going to be able to send my tape, which is really disappointing. It'd even be nice if one of the trillion people I've emailed would bother to write me back. Jerks.

I've been trying to pay the extension on my flight home, and made my 4th fruitless trip out to Montreal airport yesterday (they have no office in the city, only at the airport) which is 1 1/2 hours away on public transport. This time I arrived at 12 noon (the time I was told the office opens) only to find a sign on the desk saying they open at 530pm. So i make the long trek home. Today I call the phoneline at 3pm, expecting to go out there for 5:30pm, and am told that the office hours are from 2:45pm EVERY day. Which means that it's too late to go out there today (last time they sent me away because they were too busy later in the day). So I guess I have to go out there tomorrow. And I am going to sit at that fucking desk if it takes all day. Jerks.

Natalie Dee (creator of my favourite webcomic) and her husband have come out with a new website called 'Married to the Sea'. It's a daily comic based on a bizarre collection of 19th century etchings/lithographs. It's totally surreal, and right up my alley. Classic stuff!

From Lindyhopper.ca -

'Calamity Jane' date='9 May 2006, 10:26 AM' - Nobody has any relevant opinion except Bryn and Salad and I and a few others, and here is why: Men are starting to go extinct, so they don't matter. Natural blondes will be extinct by 2200, so they don't matter. Therefore only female brunettes are relevant because we will be here when models of you are on display with the wooly mammoths. It's survival of the fittest baby! (We will be cloning ourselves, or reproducing at will) Start sucking up now, and we might take mercy on you when the time comes!! Mwoah-hah-hah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

'missbuggles' date='9 May 2006, 10:43 AM' - Nay, it shall be the redheads who inherit the earth! We masters and mistresses of the recessive gene will breed with each other until the world is populated with fetching sub-humans resembling the MAD magazine guy, mumbling 'What, me worry?' and stumbling into each other like the children of Patty and Hans Moleman. Sweet utopia!

'Kane' date='9 May 2006, 11:00 AM' - Before I go extinct, may I watch while you breed with each other? In schoolgirl plaid, please!

[Later, after much unrelated chatter...]

'Keither' date='9 May 2006, 6:21 PM' - Can we go back to the redhead thing? And can they post some pictures in the schoolgirl outfit?

Okay, so I have no excuse for my current blogging slackness, except that there's nothing really happening around here! While I am still po'ass and waiting for my money (this time from the government *rolls eyes*) we're a touch limited as to what we can do for entertainment these days. So over the past few weeks I've played playstation, gone dancing (even though sadly my classes were the first things to go in the new recession-I-had-to-have), spent time in Chinatown eating awesome food and playing cribbage in a bubble tea house, and watched a bunch of DVDs (we had a Matrix marathon yesterday - oh MAMA did that second movie stink up the joint! I had to open a window!!).

My biggest news though, is that I'm currently preparing to record a taped audition for the Adelaide Symphony low horn job at the end of May. It's a big freakin' deal to have a job open in my home town, and it's absolutely worth a crack. It really seems like everything is falling into place, with turning thirty, rounding out my music career, plans for the future, feeling like I'm really heading towards some clarity in what I want out out life, and getting a little hint of what inner peace is all about. It feels pretty good. Geez, pull out the patchouli incense - I'm a hippy, maw!! :S

So I finally have a rough idea of when I'm coming home. My visa runs out on the 30th of June, and I have to be back in Oz by the 4th of August, so I'm planning on coming straight back home and hopefully spending some time with Mum in Gosford before heading back to Adelaide for a while. I'm not sure yet if the travel agents will let me go home via Sydney (which is the stopoff for Gosford), so if not I'll be spending some quality time in Perth to get in some dancing and catching up with Dozzy and Rien. I'm sad to be going, leaving behind some great friends and of course Ian (for a little while) but in a way I'm looking forward to getting home and starting my brand new fresh and fabulous life! Yay me!

And just to explaing the post title, I spent a couple of hours last night making a ton of homemade perogies (awesome Polish/Ukranian dumplings). They turned out fantastically and now we have a freezer stuffed with deliciously stodgy snacks!! (By the way, the picture isn't of my perogies. Mine are steamed and MUCH sexier! :D) Yum!