What the Foo?

About 5 weeks ago, I blogged in excitement and anticipation for the Foo Fighters stadium tour in December. In that post, I threw together a quick to-do list in order for us to be able to attend this concert. This was all before ol' Murphy (owner of Murphy's law) joined the party...

One of the main determining factors of us making it to the concert was one of my favourite f-words: financing. So, surprise surprise, we were blessed with the opportunity to financially assist with some extended family happenings. Big bummer in terms of the Foo plans, but no matter, I still have a sellable kidney available right?

Well actually, it turns out I don't. That's where things get very interesting. The last bullet point on my planning blog post was to make sure I didn't get pregnant. The last time the Foos were touring NZ the hubby and I had tickets, but they were in the General Admission area (where you would wanna be in a Foos concert) but I was too far along and we sold the tickets. So guess what happens this time around. I kid you freaking not. I am preggo. Again. So there will be no invasive surgery to get that kidney out for the black market. Gutted.

What is up with the Foos fertility fever?

Next time, if there is ever a next time, I will perhaps follow Telecom's failed Backing Blacks campaign line and abstain for the Foos. Ha! Make that a Tui ad.

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This has been sitting as a Draft since I found out I was preggo, awaiting the second I passed the 12 week mark so I could post it. Although things didn't turn out how I had hoped and expected, and I am once again un-preggo (as far as I know), I still want to post this. Hopefully, you've read down this far, so I don't get awkward congratulatory messages. I do, however, still accept support in the form of brownies and choc chip cookies :)

Also, I just noticed that had I mentioned my supplementary folic acid and iodine tablet intake, this blog could have been titled: Sex (or the lack thereof), Drugs and Rock'n'Roll. SCANDALOUS!

One of dem days

When the day knocks the wind out of you, and words fail you, and you feel like screaming "What's going on?"

All the while wishing you were in such a peaceful place that you could stand balanced on one leg, and just let your fingers dance and your guitar wail, while your frizz mop hung over your face to shade you from the blinding lights

One night only special guest appearance by Emo Fob

Foo fever

Driving in to work this morning, I found out from the Morning Rumble on The Rock radio station that Foo Fighters will be coming in December! (Coming to Auckland, that is...boo!) My well-insulated groupie heart was all a-flutter. I must go.

So I put together a quick plan for things to organise in order to go:

1. Get money for tickets, on sale next week

2. Book flights to Auckland

3. Book accommodation in Auckland

4. Find babysitter for Lyla

5a. Find a nice finance company to consolidate my debts from the above activities

5b. If 5a is unsuccessful, sell a kidney on black market to pay for debts

6. Be broke just in time for Christmas

7. Lose weight - in case I fall on and break a bogan

8. Study - I don't want to be the big brown girl that doesn't know any of the lyrics

9. Don't get pregnant - last time the Foos were in town, we bought tickets nearly a year before the concert, then I got knocked up and was too bloated and "fragile" by the concert date. It was so disappointing. Don't get me wrong, the baby was ok, and she loves me more than the Foos ever will, so it wasn't all bad. But I'm not keen for a repeat of that yay-we-got-tickets-stink-we-can't-go emotional roller coaster. So what if my 5 year plan included having more than one kid before 30...

The things we do for love.

Golden Oldies

When I created this blog, I didn't have a name in mind. How do I sum up in a few words what the general feel would be? Not sure what made me think of music, but I went with Rock Fob because:

1. Rock - I like rock music. Maybe not as much as a bogan. But I think as much as a born-and-raised Samoan mongrel can be (thanks Magik FM and Rick Dees). So not surprisingly, the car radio is nearly always on The Rock radio station. (And funnily enough, but unrelated, we go to a church called The Rock. Oh yea, I love that Rock - Jesus - hard out)

2. Fob - Need I say more? Growing up in a kuaback village that meant you couldn't go to school after heavy rainfall because all the fords were flooded....yea, I don't think there was much hope of not being a fob. Being under permanent house arrest with a bookshelf of Laura Ingalls, Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl, Nancy Drew and a Collins encyclopedia set was still not enough to deviate me from fob-ination. I mean, Mum had Daniel Rae Costello, Five Star, Misiluki and Aniseto tapes playing non-stop...and of course every year Boney M at Christmas time. And the most surprising music influence - my grandma. Her little squeaky transistor radio, always on 2AP, was the source of my love for the Rod Stewart/Dire Straits/Bee Gees/Lionel Richie types.

In recent times though, I have lost interest in new music. Actually to be frank, I think most of the music coming out nowadays is average at best. Harsh, maybe? Am I a dinosaur? At the young age of...my young age? I mean, who remembers that J-Lo was one of Janet Jackson's "friends" in the clip of "That's The Way Love Goes"? And that Courtney Cox was a front row fan in the concert clip of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing In The Dark"?

I find watching Juice TV exhausting. Most nights now, while we're working on our respective computers, we've got the TV on MTV Classic. What a find. A channel that plays music from artists I know, with melodies that I can understand, and lyrics that are intelligent, deep or witty. With charts like 'This Is 1993'...how can you go wrong?

I should consider a blog name change to "Golden Oldies", along with a "Back in my day" series. I'll have a cuppa tea, then think about it some more as I clean my dentures.

Fat chance

This is what I call this food - misery, instead of muesli. I mean, what is it? I could easily Google/Wikipedia it, but at the moment I am using all my energy and concentration on staying put, in my chair, in my office. Instead of wandering downstairs and hunting me some grub, in some form of delightful South East Asian style fried noodles. Drool.

Today is D-Day. Diet Day. The last attempt at trying to improve eating habits and lose weight on my own. Over the weekend I had decided that this week I would call Jenny Craig. I couldn't go on like this, I needed help. (Let me just add that you shouldn't make such decisions after a massive yum cha overindulgence session). Anyway, last night I was doing some last minute Googling to see how much it would be. Funnily enough, Jenny Craig's website FAQ had the question posted, but the "answer" was a waffly "it depends on the program" type of statement. The results of my investigation was as expected. I would have to fork out more money for the program per week than our family's grocery shopping budget. Sigh.

So here goes my last attempt at DYI weight loss. I'm giving myself one week to try and improve my eating habits, before I make that Jenny-call. Hopefully now that I've told the world (my world of 8 people) I will feel some sort of accountability. Fat chance.

Which brings me to today's breakfast. Muesli. I stared at it and poked at it a few times. And now I've decided I'm not eating it. I'll get myself some fibry bark-tasting bread to make toast tomorrow.

So starts the period of depressed, hungry, angry blogging...while I attempt to purge my brain of the delights of buttery pastries, spicy fried noodles, rich curries and heavenly chocolate.


(and in case you were wondering, yes, that is a rock that I keep on my work desk)

The Hangover

Just to clear things up, this is not in reference to the movie about the guys that go to Vegas for a bachelor party and wake up hung over with no recollection of the previous nights activities.

I am hung over. From the Bon Jovi concert we went to on Sunday. Maybe this is not quite the right word, but let me explain. I haven't been to many concerts, due mainly to financial constraints. The few that I have been to, I have thoroughly enjoyed and got that post-concert buzz, including the literal buzzing in the ears for a day or so. But I have to say the Bon Jovi concert was way more amazing than I had anticipated. And I had high expectations - relative to the cost of the tickets.

They didn't have crazy lighting or special effects or any of that jazz. Just the band, playing non stop for 20 songs, before taking a short break and returning for an epic encore - 'Always', 'Wanted Dead or Alive' and 'Livin on a Prayer'. So what made it so good? Just...them. They sounded awesome, and created a really good atmosphere even during the calmer moments of the gig. "Seasoned performers" someone said. I sang 'til I was hoarse and clapped 'til my hands started to swell.

It usually takes me a day or two to get over the buzz of a concert, then I can look fondly back on the memories of the night. Not this one. Thanks to YouTube, each time I watch a video from that night, I fan the dying embers and then it's the return of the buzz all over again. Epic.