Radio chatter

I feel so stupid butch talking on the radio and saying stuff like:

• "Jeff to Show Logistics"
• "Go for Jeff"
• "What's your 20?"
• "Copy"
• "Over"
• "I've made the call"
• "We're clear"

I'm still a bit shy about talking on the radio. But when it comes to making public address announcements to our guests, I'm da bomb! "Mesdames et Messieurs. Bienvenue and welcome...."

Week #2

Some of the way cool things about my new job:

• I get wear a radio and then, during show time, I put on the nifty earpiece that makes me look like some really important backstage manager-type dude at a Janet Jackson Hilary Duff concert. Not the headgear that Janet Hilary would use on-stage herself, but just the earpiece that makes me look like Head of Security or something.
• I had to buy steel-toed boots for site tear-down and set-up. So I bought groovy black Blundstone steel-toes that look great with jeans and are totally appropriate for a slam-dancin’ night out on the dancefloor. And the company reimbursed me cuz I’m required to have them.
• My work uniform is black shirt, black dress pants, black shoes. I look GREAT in black. And the company gives me a modest clothing allowance every year to support my shopping addiction help me buy appropriate stuff.
• We’re in Melbourne. And, despite the similar claim by Cleveland, this is the city that truly ROCKS! And my friend Header will be suitably impressed that I'm practicing my wog accent.
• I get free access all day and all evening to a kitchen (about 20 steps from my office) that cooks some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. Last night’s dinner: rosemary lamb (yum!). On the less-positive side is the fact that I expect to gain about 10 20 pounds in the first 3 months -- kinda like the old curse known as "The Freshman 20."
• I’m surrounded by really cool people who are friendly, helpful, knowledgeable, and fun.
• We had a talk yesterday from the President and COO of the company, who flew in from Montreal yesterday on his annual Circus Tour of all the touring shows. He talked about a lot of stuff and I really believe him – it’s not just propaganda, but real meat-and-potatoes kind of stuff. One of the things I didn’t know was that the company donates 1% of all revenues (not profits, revenues!!) to young people in need through its own charitable foundation. Very impressive!
• My office is in a tent. Well, that’s not quite true. My office is in a marquis. A climate-controlled, floored-and-carpeted, decked-out-with-a-full-on-sound-system-and-multi-media-suite, adorned-with-ultra-cool-costumes-and-masks-and-stuff, honest to goodness marquis.
• I get to see about a million smiles every show day from our guests who are absolutely completely blown away by what they see.
• I’m being put up in an executive serviced apartment in South Yarra, one of the coolest neighbourhoods in Melbourne. It’s about 100m from the Yarra River, a 10-minute walk to Chapel Street, and a 20-minute walk to the Big Top site.
• I’m back in a role that combines the best of operational, hands-on action and management duties. It’s really invigorating.
• This company clearly values its employees. I like that. A lot.

At this point I’m pretty stoked about my job. In fact, it's better than I could have ever imagined, which is pretty high praise for this company and this group of people. Of course, the immersion into the culture of the circus over this first week has meant that my blogging schedule has suffered. I’ll get back on track. I promise.

Early days on the job

Originally written on Thursday, March 17. Not posted until now cuz I've been really freakin' busy, damnit!

I’ve dressed up in a costume to serve drinks, I’ve ironed yards and yards of pretty pink flowing fabric, I’ve arranged hors d’ouevres, I’ve ushered guests in and out of the VIP tent, I've dressed up as a security guard, I've established a rapport with my team. I’ve met amazing people, I've seen many smiling faces, I’ve eaten heaps of great food, I’ve been involved in a couple of near-crisis situations that required some firefighting by me and my new awesome team.

It’s been a pretty great start to my new adventure. Can’t wait to see what awaits me today!

But who placed an order for Winter?! I think I’ll have to pick up a few warmer clothes in order to survive. Luckily I have a modest clothing allowance. Can you believe it? A clothing allowance?!

Those Survivor kids got nothing on me

"Just be militant," I keep telling myself. "You can do this, Jeff! Bring only those things that you reallllly need. You might want to reconsider, and leave behind the life-sized blow-up doll of Tom Ford..."

Yup, it's the nomadic life for me as of tomorrow. If I could, I would travel like one of those Latin American Miss Universe contestants, who goes to the pageant with, like, 20 trunks of clothes and whatnot. No, really -- it's totally true! I knew a girl who was Miss Canada 1986, and she went to Miami for Miss Universe with one attendant and a couple of trunks. Imagine how intimidating it is to see Miss Venezuela sashay in with 20 trunks hauled by 6 attendants in charge of her hair, makeup, wardrobe, etc. Needless to say, pageants are big business south of the equator, while our poor little Miss Canada was pretty much left to her own devices. I think Karen still made the semis that year, but what chance did she really have against the Venezuelan juggernaut?!

I'm no Miss Universe contender who needs her 20 trunks, but I do like to be surrounded by my "stuff." I've simplified my life by leaps and bounds over the past two years, and have come to realize what exactly is most important to me, but there are still comforts of home that you crave. God, this round of packign has been like choosing my luxury item on Survivor. But it truly is time to be ruthless and take only those necessary items that I need can fit into two suitcases.

• hair dryer
• curling iron
• hot rollers
• hair straightener
• makeup bag
• 10 15 20 pairs of shoes
• my fat jeans
• my new snuggly, squishy, comfortable, clutch-it-while-I-watch-TV pillow

It was a tough choice, but I've decided to go with the pillow and leave the rest behind. Of course, I'm also taking some clothes, basic toiletries, my laptop, and a few pictures, but not much else. This nomadic life could be interesting, to say the least...

Let's Have a Pyjama Party!

So what if Michael Jackson turned up to his trial wearing pyjama pants?! Luscious Lorna used to show up at work on occasion wearing her very own flannel PJ's. As I said in that birthday tribute post, that is quite possibly my absolute favourite thing about her. Ever.

She's a lot like Wacko Jacko, that Luscious Lorna. She's white, she's uber-talented, and she wears pyjama pants in public. The latter point is just one of the reasons I think Luscious Lorna rocks!

Cultural/Social (Temporary) (Class TE) Subclass 420 (Entertainment) Visa

Just an ordinary Friday here in Sydney. What's going on? Hmmmm, let me think...

• We finished third in pub trivia on Wednesday. With much harder questions than last week, we were hurt by the absence of our literary ace, Catherine. We struggled with Round 4, where we had to come up with the title of the novel whose opening line we were provided with. I'll always be the first to admit that I simply do not read. Still, we won the bonus prize for best team name and were by far the strongest four-person team in the competition.
• More weird and wonderful dreams. Last night, I think Steffi Graf featured prominently. Just. Plain. Weird.
• The weather's still holding strong. Still hot and sunny, but (thankfully) no humidity.
• Haven't done anything athletic in a dog's age.
• Lost last night proved interesting. I just had this eerie feeling that Sun knew English;that she could really understand what was being said around her. Aha! I was right!!
• Oh ya....and I found out today that I got my new Australian work visa and I fly to Melbourne on Tuesday to begin my new adventure!!

Go figure, my visa falls under the category of "Cultural/Social (Entertainment)" but I could have told you that. Jeepers, during my years in Whistler, I was always known as The Social Leader in charge of entertainment, and my recent operatic experience proves just how kulcha'd I am.

Melbourne, here I come!

Say it isn't so:she stepped out of the second triple toe?!

So there I am at the gorgeous Sydney Opera House. It's a perfectly clear, slighty breezy, refreshing evening. I'm there to see the only opera whose plot I really have any grasp of: Carmen.

And during the whole performance, the mental image that keeps reappearing? Well, if it ain't Debi blowing her opening triple toe-triple toe combination by stepping out of the second one, thereby handing the gold to Kat. Of course, l'il Liz had something to say about the final results as well, but in the end, the Battle of the Carmens was a walkover. Clearly, it's figure skating season and I need my fix. Yup, I am that gay!

But the opera was quite nice, thank you very much. I find the music enchanting, and the story absolutely compelling. Too bad the singers' French pronunciation was outta left field, but otherwise it was good. And it even inspired me, because I think I would make a great Carmen. No really!! Consider that she's really nothing more than a string-'em-along-and-make-'em-want-you-even-more-until-they-resort-to-desperate-measures kind o' gal. Jeepers, like I haven't done that before : )

To sleep, perchance to dream

I know my weird Sunday night dreams weren't alcohol-induced, drug-induced, or any-substance-induced. Still, I gotta wonder when I dream this crap:

• I'm skiing down some gnarly steeep-and-deeps in knee-deep powder. We're talking a total dumpski of the white stuff on a seriously strong pitch. I'm carving turns, I'm doing some near Miller-esque moves, I'm seriously hittin' the pattern. And then I see that my mother has beaten me down to the bottom and is waiting -- perched over her ski poles with a bored look on her face -- at the chair for me to catch up to her. Whoa.
• Obviously I've heard a few too many snippets about the Wacko Jacko trial, cuz I dreamt I was saving a young boy who was being sexually abused by strangers. All very noble and stuff, and then Bree Van De Kamp appears at the door and takes over, pearls in place and knit sweater set intact. Whoa.

Carmen tonight. Look at me, the kulcha'd homuhsekshul.

Mardi Gras 2005

Sydney's Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras 2005 is now history. I had a pretty mixed weekend, to be honest, starting out with a big night on Friday with Peter and Kevin from Melbourne (great guys) and a few of their friends. We hit a few bars and had plenty o' fun along the way. Obviously I drank way too much, as evidenced by the fact that Saturday was spent fighting a headache most of the day. Moan. Groan. Damn those orange Bacardi Breezers. They truly are the devil's work!

Saturday evening I pulled myself off the couch and to the city to catch up with the boys for the requisite viewing of the parade. What. Ever. Mary. Despite its reputation as one of the world's foremost celebrations of gay and lesbian decadence independence, it was unexpectedly disappointing. Holy bummer, Batman.

I've seen a Sydney Mardi Gras parade before, in 2001. I'm not sure if this time just wasn't up to snuff because:

• My best friend Suzie wasn't there to share it with me, like last time.
• Or I've become more and more jaded over the past 4 years.
• Or I've come to realize that much of the "gay experience" hasn't been working for me over the past several months.
• Or my feet and back hurt like hell from standing for hours in the middle of a crowd (numbering 450,000) that really limited my ability to move and keep blood flowing to my appendages.

I suspect my ho-hum response to the event resulted from a combination of all of the above. Regardless, for people who have never been exposed to anything like this -- ever -- it was obviously entertaining. Jeepers, everyone else sure seemed to be enjoying themselves tremendously! Obviously I've just turned into an unimpressionable old queen : )

After the parade was over, the boys went to the Mardi Gras Party at Fox Studios. I had no real interest in going, so hadn't purchased a ticket. Instead, I sourced out some much-needed foodstuffs (ahhh, Subway always comes through in a pinch!), and batted around the idea of waiting in line for one of the clubs on Oxford. In the end, I realized that I'd be queueing for an hour at least, and I was better off heading home for some handy-dandy sleep. So my Mardi Gras Saturday night ended at 11PM with me crawling into bed and falling fast asleep.

Sunday rolled around, and I felt fighting fit. Heading to Oxford mid-afternoon, I hung out at one of my favourite watering holes and just enjoyed hours of listening to cheesy music and watching totally messy people. Very entertaining to be the only sober one in a bar filled with sloppy sorts! I ended up being pursued by a nice guy who ended up hanging out with me for a few hours of drinking, people-watching, and chatting. Eventually, he proclaimed himself in love with me and in the midst of making mental notes so that he could recite the precise details of our meeting at our 20-year anniversary party. Hmmmm. Not convinced. Still, he was nice enough and certainly knew how to dish out a compliment.

Me: "But how can you be in love with me when you don't know anything about me?"
Him: "I just know. I've never met anyone who takes my breath away like you do. And it's not just a physical thing. You've got no pretense, but you've got a genuine nature that shines from your heart."

Or so it went something like that. And it didn't stop there. Ironic that, after 15 months living in this place, I meet someone who values me for character and integrity and not for the labels I'm wearing (or not wearing, in my case). Who cares that it's mere days before I leave here? Who cares that it was a slightyly-strung-out-on-E-and-majorly-intoxicated fella? Sometimes it's just nice to hear, even if it's in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

At any rate, Jon was fairly surprised that I planned on going home instead of to his place. But I happily ended my Mardi Gras weekend at 10:50PM by curling up in bed and promptly falling asleep. Weird dreams followed, but that's another post entirely!

Although Mardi Gras is promoted as an epic weekend, I just don't think I was in the right frame of mind to enjoy it properly. If I know one thing, it's that "mentally moved on" is an oft-visited place on my travel itinerary. I think this weekend proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I've found myself there yet again. As a result, I'm not surprised that my time here in Sydney is ending with a whimper, not a bang.

Work visa, come through soon. Pleeeeaaaaaaase.

I'll take "80's TV shows"for $1000 please, Alex

After yesterday's post, I took a step back and then gave my head a bit of a shake. It's up to me -- cuz there ain't nobody else who's gonna do it for me -- to keep living life large. So I took stock, consulted my notes, realized there are still some things on the must-do-before-I-leave-Sydney list, and got at 'em. Anyone interested in seeing Carmen at the Sydney Opera House on Tuesday night?!

I also did something new last night: pub trivia! The queen of all things trivial plays quite often, but I think it's mostly to have an excuse to go to the bar. Shockingly, I'd never played before, which is mind-boggling given my inherent grasp of all things useless and moronic! Admittedly, pub trivia is far less advanced here than in North America, where I believe it's all computerized and linked with other bars and stuff. Here, you have to actually write down your answers and manually correct them yourself. It was like Grade 5 all over again! Luckily we had a Grade 5 teacher in our midst : )

• Round 1: general trivia. We scored a decent 21 out of a possible 27 and felt pretty good.
• Round 2: 80's TV shows. Well, hellllloooooo! Very few people can compete with me in this category -- all of you bloggers out there excepted, of course -- and so I spearheaded our team to a perfect 15 for 15. And although I didn't consider it too noteworthy, my team seemed quite blown away by the fact that I knew Punky Brewster, ALF, and The Greatest American Hero. For me, just another day at the office : )
• Score after Round 2: 36 out of 42. This put us in 3rd place, a mere 3.5 points behind the leaders. But we were on a roll!
• Round 3: general trivia. We didn't do so hot in this round, managing only 13.5 out of a possible 20. Our hopes dashed, we could only hope for salvation in the 4th and final round...
• Round 4: autobiographies/memoirs. I pretty much put up my hands in defeat (cuz I am such a non-reader, unless you count Track and Field and gay magazines). Surprisingly, however, we (including substantial contributions from me) did the unthinkable and again recorded a perfect 15 out of 15. Now for nailbiting time...
• The final results: 64.5 out of a possible 77. The winners recorded 65, so they took top honours and we were narrowly nudged into second place.

We were extremely proud of our wee team of 4 (as compared to the winning team of 8 -- count 'em, 8!!! -- players) -- especially since we were all first-timers! We came out with $30 in Booze Bucks, and we'll be heading back next week for our revenge, and to use our winnings to finance a mere fraction of our bar bill part of our evening. But we'll be missing one of our players, so I'm hoping Luscious Lorna can fly in for the occasion. Or at least be available via conference call?

Sorry I'm lame

Have you ever noticed how many good looking men hang out at internet cafes? I have, and it's because I don't have access to internet where I'm staying right now. As a result, internet cafes have become a regular haunt for me these days.

You find a good one and it's not too bad: reasonable rates, fairly new computers, good keyboards, fast connection, personal workspace. But wander into some other fly-by-night internet cafes and you'll find outrageous fees, outdated equipment, keyboards that stick, marginal connections, and no privacy to surf your favourite sex track and field sites. But there's almost always one thing common to all internet cafes: there's always a hot guy or two. Thank heaven for consistency!

OK, I realize I'm grasping at straws with this posting. It's not too exciting, I know. But I have to admit that right now I'm not really living life large. Sorry I'm lame, but that will change soon.

And then just try and shut me up!