Australia Blog

A Good Serve

is just what I needed on Sunday morning, and who better to help me exert this, than BnA Chris. Having played a LOT of tennis in my, ahem, youth, yet letting it slide when I discovered, um, beer, then living in countries like England/Ireland, the weather/culture was never that conducive to a game, I'm ALWAYS gaggin' for a game. However, I can rarely find someone who's willing/able to play on a 'semi-regular' basis to enable me to 'get back in form' as it were, er, I seemingly amn't! But having recently read his Wooloowin Open blog, I discovered Chris has a few groundstrokes of his own, and as both our blogs would reveal, we're both gaggin' for a suitable fitness regime. So, my suggestion of a Sunday morning sesh was welcomed.

On Saturday night I sent Chris a txt saying 'still on for 2moz, say 9am?' I didn't get a reply 'til 11amish Sunday saying, 'late night, is noon 2 late?'. Perfect, I replied.

I drive down to the courts, and with 10 minutes to spare, decide to warm up 'me arm' and see if my ball toss is as lame as ever. Yep, it certainly is. Still, after a while, I get into a bit of a groove, relax the throw, and it gets more 'hittable' than, well, catching it, argh-ing with frustration, and trying again. And again. And again, until sometimes I just hit the ball anyway, nearly throwing my back out cos the ball toss is 'so' out there! I used to be a bit of a tennis player/Tracey Austin wannabe/callmewhatyouwill, so it is VERY frustrating to not be able to serve anymore. Still, I persevered.

And persevered.

And, walking from one end to the next [or invariably, the net, where my serves kept landing!], my arm is more than warmed up. In fact, I'm bloody exhausted.

Um, Chris, where are you?

He calls at about 12.30, saying he's just leaving! So by the time he arrives, I've already been on the court for about 50 minutes, in the Summer's-already-here midday sun - this, I think, is a ploy on his part to have me worn out already, giving him a distinct advantage!!! I guzzle some H2O he very kindly brought, then attempt to play some more. Having served my arm off, I'm just shagged! So with relaxed composure, Chris is casually lopping them back at me [and sneakily managing some dropshots just to make sure I exert all my bodyparts!], using the age-old excuse, 'I'm just trying to get them back, it's not intentional', I'm huffin' and puffin' all over the place. Actually, towards the end, I'm letting the ball bounce more than once if I care to!

Still, we have a decent bash, and YAY, Chris is the perfect 'level' to play against - the right amount of strength and accuracy to make it worthwhile. i.e If I play someone who just 'plops' them back ['lollypopping like mid-week Ladies Fixtures' as my ma would've said!], my whole timing is screwed and if I play someone who canes them, I've no chance of getting into a rally, so, while we didn't manage to get a set going, it was good! Besides, we were both undernourished and worn out before too long!

To wrap up the afternoon, we treated ourselves to a well-earned [mid-strength, both driving an' all] beer [or 2], a pub lunch [mine being the hugest 'perch' burger I've ever seen in my life, and ne'er managed to eat!] entertained by the sounds of Space Invaders, an 80s tribute band, who were tres amuson to say the least!

A Good Serve indeed.

Lacking Upper Body Strength and Somewhat Exerted Abs Ging

A Woman of My Word and Choreographer Extraordinaire!

I may have been drunk when I said it, but a woman of my word, I stuck to my promise - at the risk of public humiliation!

For eons, my dear friend Cath, one-half of bluefish, has been 'encouraging', enticing, down right demanding I sing with her 'one day'. I'm all for a girly harmony in the comfort of my own, er, comfort zone, but in public? Hmmm... Anyway, it was her birthday gig, and as I said, I'd promised that I 'd sing a song with her. Fortunately I was throwing back VLSs like there's no tomorrow [and let me tell you, for the most part, there wasn't a tomorrow!], and while I was perusing the song list, the lyric sheet and desperately trying to think of a way to squirm my way out of it, the next thing I know, I'm being called on stage as 'a special guest'. Oh really. Can't promise you it was anything 'special'! So, with 'security blanket' [VLS] in paw, I amble on stage. The venue was an Irish 'chain' pub in the 'burbs, so I'm not that phased about being recognised y'know, and the chances of me being there again were even slimmer, so I wasn't phased by the audience at all.

However, when I got on stage, all I could hear was the guitar, all I could see was 'bright lights', I wasn't sure of our harmonies [it's not like we'd rehearsed this!], had no clue as to 'mic techniques', and my bloody left leg, despite all the alcohol, just started nervously shaking all over the place! Hmmm... So I 'sang quietly' through the verses, but hurrah, the chorus, for some reason, I could do. I could hear Cath, she could hear me - it worked. Apparently.

And just to add to the public humilation, I [inadvertently] took it one step further. There was a 'fridge competition' being held, whereby you drink a certain amount of beverages for the chance to win a fridge courtesy of beverage sponsor, or something. I wasn't drinking that 'brand', so hadn't entered the competition, but for some reason, I decided to shout to the guitarist, 'do you want to see my impersonation of a fridge?', in a kind of Acting School 101 type manner. He thought it was very lame. Harumph. BUT, I didn't stop there. Before I know it, I'm choregraphing what is now known as, 'the fridge'. A description won't do it justice, it really has to be seen to be believed, but I tell ya, it can be adapted to any genre - and I'll be taking all the credit when it's become the next global dance move! I performed 'the pop fridge', something the Australian Idol will undoubtedly mimic, 'the rock fridge' for the hardcore fans, even 'the balletic fridge' - a truly versatile dancestep I tell you.

But enough about my Friday night...

Singing/Dancing Queen Ging [available for weddings, parties, the opening of an envelope - or, a fridge door I suspect!]

Pumping Iron

Continuing on this gym theme, I thought I'd elaborate a little more on the whole experience. I've been trying to find a workout facility that's reasonably close to where I live - if it's more convenient for me to go, there's a greater chance I will actually go.

Seems like there are a few of the larger gym networks with locations in the Indooroopilly/Toowong area. Fitness First, Workout, Uni of QLD Fitness Centre, Bardon Healthworks. I called each of them (except UQ) and not one would give me prices over the phone. UQ had their prices prominently displayed on their website, so I knew exactly where I stood with them.

So I went to each of the locations to fill out their little form that asks me how I'm feeling (circle one) - depressed, fit, good self esteem, lethargic, etc. After that deep analysis of my mental well-being, I get a tour of the facilities and then sit down to hear the pitch.

Finally a price sheet is pulled out and I can see the damage. Pretty much all are the same, or thereabouts. Bardon Healthworks was cheaper and there seemed to be a high percentage of fit-looking women working out there. But it's a little too far away for me.

Fitness First is closest and they have fantastic facilities. Everything is new and state-of-the-art. They don't have free weights over 40kg to keep the 'roid freaks out, and they have a steam room, video library, sauna, etc. They were also the most expensive (though not by much). What I didn't like was the pressure tactics they applied when they asked if I was interested. They gave me a "First Visit Incentive" price but gave me 24 hours to "think about it".

What made me laugh though was every single gym has this price sheet, but when you go in there, all of them cross out the prices and write something different to make it seem like you're getting a deal. Each of them slashed the sign-up fee by half and chopped $10/month off the dues.

Why not just do this from the start and save us all the frickin' hassle?

It's obvious that no one pays the advertised rate and it seems as though the gyms can afford this "reduced" rate, so why not just apply it from the get go and push the features of the gym that make you unique?

Anyway, I haven't signed anything yet, but I'm leaning towards the Workout Indooroopilly. Sarah was the rep who took me round and she was very thorough. She obviously used the place herself and really spent some time with me discussing what I wanted to get out of exercise and how the gym would help me do that. They are a more "hands-on" facility and take an interest in their members. I never felt any pressure to make a decision there and then. Sarah sent me off with some literature and the price sheet (with the "new" prices) and just told me to call if I decided to go for it.

None of their literature has a website address, so maybe that's something I can push in return for a reduced membership rate....

I'm an advocate for change, yes...

BUT... not my 'kicky fighty' class! How dare they?

Some background. I'm by no means a gym junkie. In fact, generally-speaking, I loathe gyms, particularly the more pretentious varieties. Anyway, I do like to do 'some' exercise [I find long walks just as therapeutic or a good bash on a tennis court, etc.] but don't really like the idea of being boxed in a room, pumping iron, etc... BUT, for some reason - motivation mainly - I got into 'Tae Bo' [aka Kicky Fighty, the coolest phrase, yes, coined by a mate in Dublin some years ago now] when I was, yes, living in a rainy city where the only exercise you get is of the elbow variety. And, I liked it. It mixes aerobic/cardio stuff w 'girly punching', and boxing kicks, etc... so not 'real' martial arts per se, but oodles of fun - felt 'empowering', whilst as I said, not really gonna get you out of a sticky situation using self defence, etc... but just not completely 'girly girly aerobic' y'know? And so I didn't feel like one of those 'leotard-up-the-arse-wearing girly girly gym types' either. Anyway, loved it, it suited me, and I could justify going the hideous place that is a gym w/o feeling like a wanker because of this.

I get back to Aus, and go through it all again, finding an unpretentious gym that offers 'kicky fighty'. Man. There's so many names for it now [Body Combat seemingly the most equivalent?! ] and so many pretentious/'lifestyle' gyms. I finally found a place, which, despite being in one of Brisbane's 'hip and, in parts, pretentious' innercity 'burbs, and at the time, was 'down the road', so perfect. It was THE best Tae Bo I've ever experienced [you may laugh, but like a drug/sex, don't knock it 'til you try it - truly elating!], the coolest instructor [hilarious woman], fitted my wk schedule perfectly and I went EVERY single week w/o fail. I didn't got to the gym for anything else, had my kicky fighty once a week and was happy.

Next thing I'm pretty much living w my now ex-bf on 'the other side of town', and don't find a nearby equivalent, and then moved in w the arsehole [ahem], so hadn't been to the gym since, god, February?

[Obviously] having moved AGAIN, I couldn't find a 'worthy' replacement gym, so decided, bugger it, I'll go back to the trusty fave, it's kinda on the way home, it's cheap, unpretentious, has the best class/instructor - all good.

Or so I thought. Firstly, my first attempt to get the motivation back was hilarious in that, in my excitement and haste, I, er, packed two different pairs of shoes... and didn't notice 'til I was in the change room. Oops. Okay, so Take 2, Tuesday night. 'Sensibly' [and cos I'm early] I warm up on the bikes, do some stretches, etc... My instructor arrives and says, 'oh my god where've you been? Are you still in love?' Oh my, do I have a story to tell! She then says, 'and, god you've lost weight?' A rather odd thing for a gym instructor to say to someone who's done nothing but wallow and comfort eat for the last month! Still, I guess I had lost a g'zillion kgs in my previous month of woe for all the wrong reasons - none of which had anything to do w a fitness regime! So we get chatting and she tells me, she's 4 months' pregnant [wha'? Not an ounce of fat on her, let alone a small child within!] so she's toned down the classes and is only doing every second week, AND, the class itself has been modified.

Oh no, what am I hearing? This is not good. She explains what the class is like and I'm devastated. It's more like a circuit than kickyfighty/cardio. Eek. We warm up [again] on the bikes, we run, we skip, we do step-ups, we go to 'the machines' [see, that's another thing, I don't wanna sit around looking at my muscles in the mirrors, I must be an 'organic exerciser'] for a 'brief' circuit, I'm completely uninspired [therefore not the most effective workout], but give it 'some' cos, well, I may as well... This is NO kicky fighty and not a bit motivating. Mind you, when we switch during the circuit [as yer do!] and I get to the punching bag [again, I'd rather 'punch air to silly music'], oh my, do I vent! So much so that she comments, 'oh I can see why you like that one? I can't imagine WHO you're thinking of when you're punching that bag?' Still, it's just not kicky fighty.

As I said, I'm all for change, variety being the spice of life an' all, but kicky fighty was my 'thing' y'know. It actually made me look forward to going to the gym and 'venting' and laughing and havin' a ball. What to do?

Flabby Ging w reasonably sore arms this morning however! ha!

Back in BrisVegas

Back home again after a short trip to Thailand. Going on about 24 hours without sleep so hallucinations may shortly follow.

Have to give a big thumbs up to Singapore Airlines though. They treat you very well and the entertainment is the best I've seen. Personal TV screens on every seat, on-demand movies (14 channels), TV shows, big audio selection and Nintendo games to keep the kids (big ones included) happy for hours.

And on a side note, what's up with confiscating my tweezers and nail scissors at the airport when on the plane they give me a metal knife and fork?

The world's most boring party!

and I was the host!

Okay, so the majority of people I'd invited said they couldn't make it, there were a lot of clashes [Riverfire/Broncos/Lions], and generally-speaking, it was a bad weekend for it. Everyone had said, 'postpone it'. I was going to, but then, I just wanted it over and done with, so went ahead with it. Spent the day shopping like mad, w the fear of UNDERcatering, despite all... and w the help of my fab sis, I even hand-prepared food! This is not normal for me! A leek and zucchini frittata I was v. proud of, two different kinds of bruschetta and I, the semi-vego, even hand-rolled chicken, chilli & lime parcels! I'd also bought a g'zillion pre-packaged 'finger foods', chips, dips, etc. etc...

My family were the majority of attendees [and thankfully, I've a large family, so they fill a room!], my sister even cancelled at the last minute, and a few of the 'maybes' no-showed or cancelled at the last minute too! It was a joke. I was bored, got a beer headache and when everyone told me I looked like shit, I knew I had to go to bed...

I now have a fridgeful of meat/chicken/finger food that my dog is going to LOVE and instead of 'sitting at his bowl' for his meals, will be requesting a napkin and dipping sauce, please...

Ging No Mates