Perth meets Perez

I'm pretty much addicted to Perez Hilton–it is the trashiest trash that ever trashed. But yesterday, I had to do a double-take to make sure I wasn't reading the West Australian!

Missy Higgins! W000t!

Aussie singer Missy Higgins was in town last week, so we went to see her over at Cafe Du Nord in the Castro. We looove Missy. Her music is kind of like a happier Sarah McLachlan. To see her show in Australia, we'd be in an audience of thousands. Here, it was more like 150. Better view for us!

There were two warm-up acts before she came on. The first was Katy Steele of Little Birdy, which is quite a well-known band in Australia from my lovely hometown of Perth. She was just there by herself, but her stage presence is quite riveting. With her straight white blonde hair, it was very Debbie Harry.

The second act was an excruciatingly boring American girl. Too much time on hair, not enough writing decent songs. It was more prolonged warbling than singing. I even, at one point, crouched down, so my feet would hurt less from my heels. I was sooo unconcerned about seeing the performance. Just holding my place until the real act came on. I didn't mean to be so ghetto, but dude, I was ready to chew them off at the ankles!

Finally, Ms Higgins came on! It was truly a miraculous set. Gorgeous lyrics and tripping melodies, hampered only by Miss Number One Fan behind me. She knew every word to every song (of course) and insisted on singing it loud as can be (of course). I was soo close to turning around, slapping her one, and reminding her I paid to hear Missy, not her. I didn't (of course) because I'm classy like that.

Also, she was bigger than me.

B-day celebrations II

So after our joint dinner, we did some drinks... I did a spin on a dance pole.. you know, the usual. Then we walk up the street to find another bar. As we're walking a few blocks away, we pass a "Thailand Health Spa Massage" place. Some of the guys wanna go in. Fine. My sister and I wait outside. That's when this guy starts talking to us.

He's younger than his paunch suggests, and dressed like a bouncer–blue shirt and oversize leather jacket. He seems a bit sketchy at first because he talks a lot and fast. Anyway it comes out that he's shore police. It's fleet week-the navy is in town on shore leave-and it's his job to make sure no one gets arrested.

Basically, he explains, the navy has 20 personnel in the downtown/North Beach area where we were, and 30 in the Castro (gay capital of the world, if not the universe). They ask the (real) police to call them if any of their guys gets arrested, as they've been given expense accounts exactly for bail-type expenses...

That's not all that's involved though, he explains. There's much reconnaissance to be done beforehand. The extent of which he displays when the boys emerge from the massage place. They despondently report the lady in there looked aunty-ish.

Our shore policeman explains that they were sent to SF some time before the fleet arrived to scope out all the "places of interest" and find out where the best are, what they offer and at how much. Apparently Thailand Health Spa Massage still tries to keep the facade of a reputable place. Once you get led inside, that's when you can choose from a "menu" and make a few coded requests.. who knew!

Aah the might of the armed forces of the most powerful nation on earth...

Many happy returns

I know the last few posts haven't exactly been rays of sunshine. Being referred to as an alien, let alone an illegal one, is bound to put a damper on things.

But, with all the b-day celebrations/happy stuff in the past 2 weeks, it's been hard not to feel just a little festive. It's been my sister's (30th) as well as mine (25 forever) so there has been a lot of joint action.

Let me see, there was...

-my first ball game.


-some kind of huge-ass BBQ at a friend's place north of the city


-a road odyssey to Vegas (more about that later)


-an Italian dinner that came very slowly, chased by many vodka-based beverages that were drunk too quickly...

...which was chased by a run-in with shore police at fleet week, outside a Thai "health" massage parlour. (Full story coming)

These few weeks have definitely love me long time!

And today, (actual b-day), great big huge American pancakes at the Millbrae Pancake House and possibly a wander around a lake.

In Vegas, I played the 1-cent pokeys a lot and the trick to them is getting a bonus round. Then you get a bunch of free spins, and lots more chances at wins. Well, I think in the great dodgy casino of life, everyone gets old, there's a lot of glitz, but the reality often smells funny. This year at least, has been a pretty huge bonus round.

Thanks for sticking round for it :)

Never have truer words been said

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

—Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen by Mary Schmich

This week, I'm sure, will be a front runner for Most Likely To Be The Suckiest This Year for me. Come New Year's Eve, when I'm looking back at what the hell I frittered my life on in 2007, this one's going to stand out in the for-God's-sake-don't-do-that-again stakes (it will join 'artistic broody guys' and 'cheap shoes'.

So, Monday 9.30am finds me checking some email and I read one from an Aussies in America group about maximum tourist stays being 6 months. I'm sure I have a 1-year visa, but run and check it anyway. Lo and behold, the email was true. There, like a stab in my side, is the red stamp with a date that's 10 days old.

I was completely blind-sided in every possible way. Frantic phone calls and emails and visits with lawyers fill the following days. I learn more about US immigration law than I ever planned to know. I was suggested to get married about 5 times. A few more, and it would be akin to a visit to the parents ;) After much research and thinking, the gaping, devastating, nauseous feeling slowly subsides to a low hum. The consequences, though not ideal, aren't as devastating as I initially thought.

But, it does remind me that I'm the most foolish fool that ever fooled, for trying to live in another country. My first years in Singapore were wrought with dealings with the immigration department as well, so this is not my first time. Dealings with immigration departments, no matter what country you're in, seems to be its own special level of hell. They have a separate button in the elevator and everything. I realise more ludicrous things have been achieved before, putting a man on the moon, Paris' "career'"for two, but not that many.

Avenue Q - It Sucks To Be Me

My theme song these days...

Truth and dare

These past 6 months, I have come to think about risk a lot. Not the game kind, the kicked-in-the-gut kind.

What I left and lost: My autonomy–hardest. My financial plan–easiest.
What I must give up. My sense of entitlement. My resentment for the weight I magically gained :p
Why I did this. What is it that I'm actually after: Like the Golden Gate Bridge on a foggy day, I know it's there, I just can't see the details right now.
Whether it's worth it: I would have been a lot more ambivalent about this yesterday, but after a good meeting today, I think it just might be.
Whether I'm being bold or reckless. Maybe.

A wonderful reader's survey in the New York Times, courtesy of Miss T, asking people why they take risks perked me up muchly. A big reminder that there's others in the same boat. That it does work out. Or even if it doesn't they still lived to tell the tale. And, that come to think of it, the risk of the Big Move doesn't come nearly close to #90's comment: "Being honest with people (and myself) in all of my relationships (platonic and romantic)."

As a truly huge fan of "keeping things nice" I realise I'd really rather move across the ocean again, or repel down the side of a cliff, than to break my vow of compliance and speak the truth all the time. Something just freaks out inside every time I think I endanger my relationships with the truth. Better a relationship based on a little lying than none at all, right? ...is my general line of thinking.

Retarded, but true, at least.