that time I had a one mic stand…

I did something a little bit out of the norm the other night. In the lead up to doing it, some people called me brave, other people called me crazy, while a few looked genuinely concerned for me. Almost a week ago I had a go at stand up comedy. Yep, I willing partook in an act which many would describe as their own worst nightmare.

The feeling that I had in the hours leading up to my spot at a local (and incredibly supportive) open mic night was like nothing I had experienced before. I’ve felt a bit nervous here and there but this certainly took things to another lever – like ADHD butterflies has inhabited my stomach – and I was so uncomfortable, it was as if my sweat glands had developed their own sweat glads. I felt like I produced enough sweat to fill an olympic swimming pool – or at least one of those little kiddie clam shell things. I willingly went for a run after work to try and clam myself down – and this from someone who doesn’t like running. Most of the time I’d rather eat my own foot than willingly ‘go for a run’ like it ain’t no thang…but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Still on edge I drove to the gig, managing to get there without causing a major traffic incident. I decided a beer would calm me down (momentarily forgetting how beer makes me kinda burpy…) and chatted with mates to try and distract myself from what could be imminent social suicide…

A few acts hit the stage – some kicked goals while others bombed harder than…well hard. That being said, the audience were amazing at supporting the broad range of performers – suddenly I felt much more at ease.

My time came and just as soon as I hit the stage it was over – well in my mind at least. My five minute set when in a blur of bright stage lights and all of a sudden I was back and sitting in the audience. I could breathe again!

My friend’s assured me that I went well but I had my doubts. At the end of the night the MC announced the performer that he had deemed best, and all of a sudden he was saying my name (!) WHAT?! Needless to say I was on the best natural high all night – so good in fact that I don’t think I got a wink of sleep that night. Now the real test comes – I’m supposed to go back next week and back it up. Does anyone know any good methods for disappearing without a trace?!

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Beans on Toast…

I would genuinely like to know who decided that gourmet = good. Was it one person or was it a group of evil food marketing geniuses who all got together in the mid to late nineties and declared; “the humble baked bean in a can will no longer suffice for a Sunday night meal, we must convince the world that they want, neigh, they need beans with sun dried capsicum and tomato, finished with a gentle flavouring of paprika”? I apologise for the super long sentence but I just can’t contain my confusion. I actually like normal baked beans. I also like the kind that come with that fake extra cheesy flavouring – on occasion. Don’t get me wrong, I’m also a sucker for a good old Sunday cafe breaky featuring stuff I can’t even pronounce properly – I mean apparently it’s kinwa…but it’s spell quinoa! I JUST CAN’T COPE, I TOOK FRENCH IN PRIMARY SCHOOL AND SUDDENLY I HAVE TO SPEAK SPANISH TO EAT. I can’t…I just can’t even. Maybe on my behalf, it’s an act of rebellion – you see my mum was all about sneaking the fancy things into my lunchbox – all I wanted was ice berg lettuce in my sandwich like the other kids but she thought I’d prefer rocket. I wanted normal old coon and I got Camembert or Feta. What kid actually asks for pine nuts in a lunch time salad? They just do not. This being said, I do like to consider myself a foodie but I guess my point is, why is it not percieved as being as good if it’s not gourmet? I love me a gourmet burger as much as the next twenty-something foodie but (and don’t tell anyone) I often find that my tastebuds can be just as delighted by a basic corner store burger cooked on a dirty big greasy grill. Sometimes I really just crave those hot dogs with the mystery meat. Not often, but every now and again I’d just rather get a service station pie than a handcrafted work of pasty art – surely I’m not the only one?! Recently I heard about a trend of reverting back to more ‘simple’ foods – brilliant I thought, I can return to the supermarket and begin buying the plain old crinkle cut chips again, rather than the rosemary and sea salt “country cut” ones. I like both kinds, It’s just that I feel judged (to be honest it’s probably just in my head…) when I buy the ‘non-fancy’ ones…But I was wrong – when they said ‘simple’ foods they meant raw eating, with all these buzz words thrown in – chia, cacao and coconut oil…things that have been around for many years (apparently) but only in my vocab for the last few. I guess this all sounds a little ‘first world problemy’ but I needed to release my rage somehow. I just tried to make myself a basic peanut butter sandwich for lunch before realising that even our bread has pumpkin seeds in it – as horrible as it can be, some times I really do crave that sweet chemical filled white stuff of other people’s childhoods. As I sit here nibbling on the my multi-grain pita that I’ve topped with (wait for it) “chilli chipotle, grilled capsicum and cashew dip” I wonder, could I get together with a bunch of smart, like minded people and make basic white bread cheese sandwiches hip? Probably not, but a gals got to have a dream….!

Multi-grain pita teamed with fancy schmancy dip...when all I wanted was white bread and peanut butter...
Multi-grain pita teamed with fancy schmancy dip…when all I wanted was white bread and peanut butter…(I’m so secretly ashamed that I didn’t even feel like taking a decent photo)