tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83655772012-02-02T06:12:48.061+11:00that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.comBlogger871100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-28612064529407946492010-12-14T22:18:00.003+11:002011-03-18T02:48:20.332+11:00

We woke up bright and early this morning. No. I lie. It was not bright. Early but dark at six o'clock. And quickly we rushed to catch the train for a day-trip to Figueres, famed for being the birth place of Salvador Dali, whose museum that we dashed to see.  The train ride from Barcelona took about two hours. I dozed mostly. Except for the half-an-hour or so when I laughed hysterically at B as he

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-55889741986839524072010-12-13T21:04:00.001+11:002011-03-18T00:30:45.415+11:00

I woke up this morning to B shouting, "Fuck! It's already ten!" Shortly after, I realised it was actually eleven, given the time difference between here and England. Hurriedly, we got ready and set off for Parc Güell, an expansive bit of green space on a hill with gorgeous panoramic views of Barcelona. And of course, it is another one of Gaudi's works. A very Gaudi-esque entrance greeted us -

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-27543221609673435902010-12-12T22:53:00.071+11:002011-03-17T05:31:24.884+11:00

Travelling can be tiring. We arrived in Barcelona this morning with just over an hour of sleep under our belt. It wasn't long before I started to crave for a siesta. First impression of Barcelona is that it is unlike that Woody Allen movie. It is also unlike Paris, where the streets are quaint and dotted with little patisseries for us to hop in and satisfy small cravings. We are staying just off

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-51565274428317266942009-11-23T23:37:00.002+11:002010-05-08T15:35:00.713+10:00

I am slow in getting the tales from Africa up. So far, stories are still stuck in Botswana. 

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-72032216361784758612009-10-18T15:47:00.002+11:002010-05-09T01:15:08.888+10:00

Rain is probably worth more than diamonds in Botswana. There are plenty of the diamonds here. But not so much of rain. It is held in such an esteemed position that the national currency, pula, literally means rain. So it was with some disbelief that we absorbed all this information while on a game walk in almost torrential downpour. And even more so as I fell asleep to the sound of rain falling

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-87729389670115488862009-10-17T12:06:00.005+11:002010-05-09T00:33:50.693+10:00

Here's a little confession. That late night at work months ago certainly pushed me into going to Africa, but one of the other inspirations was the HBO/BBC production of "The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" starring Jill Scott. From the show, my list of priorities were - visit Botswana, feel the heat of the Kalahari, sip red bush tea and learn how to speak in clicks. I kept on reading the

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-74115592624257324232009-10-16T18:35:00.068+11:002010-02-17T13:30:34.836+11:00

On my way to breakfast this morning, I was greeted by Pumba, one of the many warthogs within the Ilkeley Game Ranch. I cannot imagine a better way to start the day in Africa. Our guide for the day was a local named Alfred. He often introduced himself with, "Hi, I'm Alfred and your guide for your day inside Kruger. As you can see, I am Chinese." He stopped himself today mid-sentence when his

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-36784707104760489642009-10-15T19:48:00.003+11:002010-05-09T01:26:31.096+10:00

I got up at five in the morning to get ready for the start of a 25-day overland trip across Southern Africa. This early rising was no mean feat considering I had only stumbled back into the hostel hours earlier from a night out with Mr Butterfly, a friend from high school who was working in Johannesburg for a few months, and his friend, Drama, who I inadvertently upset and left in a crying heap

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-92011871317874004522009-10-14T19:08:00.000+11:002010-02-06T17:22:45.527+11:00

I arrived in Johannesburg in a daze. After a 20-hour long flight from Sydney, I managed to (a) not find my airport pickup, and (b) leave my new camera on a seat at the airport after the excitement of finally finding my airport pickup took hold of me. "Willy! I left my camera inside the airport!!" I said to Willy, the driver, as we left the terminal building and walked towards the car. He was a

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-92136195880618512302009-10-01T17:08:00.000+10:002010-02-06T16:51:47.455+11:00

It was a cold stormy night. Almost Dickensian; poor working lass of almost-twenty-eight, toiled away late into the night alone in a fluorescent office on the 20th floor of the Rather-Large-Bank. "I need to get the fuck out of here," I said to myself. It is completely sane to talk to oneself when no one is around. "I need to have something to look forward to, " I elaborated. "What did you want

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-81386666786296775252009-05-17T02:14:00.005+10:002009-08-22T20:59:37.546+10:00

Saturday night. Scene: shite cocktails at the local RSL that has recently decided to vamp it up to entice the young crowd. Cast: four ladies who survived high school together.Ms. Brains: Smart, articulate, and the first one of us to get married. Other memorable traits include the infamous incident on the first day of high school when she stood up in front of the whole maths class to tell the

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-65763686024742008842009-03-28T22:08:00.011+11:002009-08-22T20:11:05.152+10:00

FLB, the rotten egg smell that we just can't get rid of in my otherwise semi-harmonious team, has been with us for close to a year now. She is the bane of everyone's existence; the itch that we want to scratch till it bleeds, the psycho dog that we want to put down, the cancerous tumour on which we want to double the dosage of chemo...I can keep the metaphor going all day. She is a bitch. A very

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-32862890040534398832008-09-01T22:00:00.008+10:002009-08-22T20:12:31.416+10:00

"So Polly, when is it your turn?" the Delightful Young Man asked while we were out at dinner. He had just flown into Melbourne for work and we caught up on the woes gone by in the past year.Which, namely, for me was my disastrous debut as a bridesmaid in April. My friendship with Bridezilla still hangs by a thread."I think after that episode, I am off weddings in general." I said bluntly."How

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-20468985176644623862008-03-10T18:19:00.008+11:002009-08-22T20:13:05.421+10:00

The wedding is drawing close. Less than a week, in fact. A monstrous project fifteen months in the making. Bridezilla is full steam ahead, leaving a path of destruction behind her - two disenchanted bridesmaids; one quit and the other has been close to going over the edge on many occasions.Miss Unsubtle quit with five weeks to go. A drawn out process following over a year of "It's my wedding!

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-69183210847973777402008-03-01T18:17:00.003+11:002009-08-22T20:13:32.614+10:00

"So what are you?"I have always envied those who can answer this in a long-winded way to include every continent on earth and throw in various mix of spices in quarters or eighths, or even sixteenths. My friend, Ms Pants Advocate, can list over half of the UN Security Council in her blood stream.Being just full-blooded anything seems so...dull.On a recent trip to China with my parents, a

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-81431222536253239712007-11-24T17:26:00.002+11:002009-08-22T20:24:00.994+10:00

"Guess who I saw at the polling booth today??!" Pixie excitedly asked."No? Who?" I was not going to venture to guess. Pixie lives on the edge of the illustrious seat of Wentworth, where the rich and famous frolic."Delta Goodrem!""Wonder if she voted for K-Rudd."Election day 2007.I woke this morning hopefully sensing a change in the air. I considered carefully in the attire that I was to wear on

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-28297778315881916452007-09-04T20:03:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:14:36.532+10:00

Two weeks ago, I turned 26. The momentous occasion this year was all the more special when I received a Graf von Faber-Castell mechanical pencil from Le Garçon.Though it is not jewellery or handbag, it is more than enough bling to last me for a very very long time.* * *[1989. Shanghai, China.]I saw my first mechanical pencil at a stationery store on Huaihai Road with my Mama. It was shiny

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-87173324821102389352007-07-27T16:15:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:15:44.004+10:00

Whenever I am home, my mama likes to show me the various things she has bought in the time I have been away. Her ever-changing taste never ceases to amaze me."I got new jeans," she said, proudly showing off a pair of pale blue jeans.They looked innocent enough. Until I noticed the zippers that ran along each side from the waist down to the bottom of the legs.Essentially, my mama bought stripper

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-39715348618426096292007-07-27T15:46:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:15:58.296+10:00

I am spending this weekend with my parents in Sydney. I've not seen them since Easter and that equals almost four months without their eccentricities and salivating home cooking.As soon as we got home from the airport last night, my mother put the kettle on. As I stood there waiting for the water to boil, she informed me that the water in the kettle was off limits but there was enough hot water

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-8733583625094247502007-07-09T21:49:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:15:16.353+10:00

When my parents got their passports renewed recently, I was their "in case of emergency". Such a role came with heavy responsibility, which to be frank, I overlooked initially until one chilly morning I received a phone call as I was on my way into work.Serious person on phone: "I understand from Father of Swell Mademoiselle's passport application that you are his in case of emergency contact."Oh

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-2569300713470193332007-06-27T23:18:00.000+10:002009-08-22T21:00:33.655+10:00

After several months of persuading by those incessant emails screaming "I've added you as a friend on facebook", I have finally relented. And it is an amazing world of facebook I have discovered. 19 friends and counting.During the course of the day at work, Pants Wearing PA and I hop on at our respective desks and moan to each about how bored we are:Swell Mademoiselle [current status] is wishing

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-91382952065033437792007-04-28T10:16:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:16:55.370+10:00

I have never been good at getting haircuts. One of my famous outbursts from childhood was at the hairdressers. I was probably five at the time and my mother always let me grow my hair long. But after way too much Tang one morning, I begged her to take me to the hairdressers to cut my hair short for the first time ever. As my locks were snipped off - and as the buzz from Tang wore off - I realised

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-74335468860564314512007-03-20T19:43:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:17:10.389+10:00

I think I may have written something to this effect back in late 2004, amidst exams and thesis:"Grr...have to stop wasting time mucking about on computer writing stupid stuff. Have a thesis to write. Have another 100 pages of thesis to write. Have to present thesis in TWO DAYS!"So here I am again. The CFA exam is in 75 days, there are probably 75,000 pages yet to be read and I am happily typing

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1134375873342204032005-12-12T19:24:00.003+11:002009-08-22T20:33:16.612+10:00

Sometimes, circumstances are just funnier in hindsight.Having not written anything besides credit memorandums, presentation slides and other work related materials in almost three months, I was rather excited with my scribblings last week.‘What did you think?’ I asked Pixie. ‘Did you like it?’‘Yes, but it was very sad. I had no idea things went that bad with Captain Haddock,’ Pixied sympathized.‘

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1133342992758752332005-11-30T20:29:00.003+11:002009-08-22T20:33:00.679+10:00

Mr. MiyagiRoomie #1 took home a stray cat from the veterinary clinic last week. A skinny grey thing who we’ve taken to call Mr. Miyagi. I liked him immediately, despite my fears of being bitten and clawed.I have never had a pet in my life. The closest thing that came to a four-legged creature within the vicinity of our house was a stray cat Mum and I used to feed. But it was hardly ours; it was

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1127053504262860972005-09-19T00:25:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:48:03.474+10:00

Watching the world (on left) go by in a fluffy robe (courtesy of the Four Seasons). A "work" trip courtesy of the Rather-Large-Bank landed me back in Sydney for four days earlier this week -- one of the perks being accommodation at the Four Seasons ."You know that's where Mr Big stays!" I said to Pixie, relating everything back to television as per usual."Oooh," she gushed."Look at the shampoo

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1124981453082324152005-08-26T00:50:00.003+10:002009-08-22T20:41:16.584+10:00

‘Do you have to be the best in everything you do?’ Farm Boy asked me a couple of months ago on a trip along the Great Ocean Road with Sparkles. ‘What do you mean “have to be the best”? I know I am the best,’ I said in earnest, with just a hint of arrogance. But tonight, I write with a bruised ego. I admit defeat; that I am not the best at everything, that I am rather appalling in certain arenas.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1124977270941794592005-08-24T23:41:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:48:17.052+10:00

Morale has not been high for a while now at the Rather-Large-Bank. The CEO blames the media laying the slipper in and his minions have found all sorts of ways to make us sigh with giddiness at the sight of that shiny logo of ours. Yesterday, while I was at home pretending to be sick, my team had a bake off. “Polly!” said Shag-Fiend Director this morning, “you missed the bake off.”She was not

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1124805171914278222005-08-23T23:52:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:47:48.313+10:00

7:00 am Alarm on mobile goes off. Tchaikovsky’s Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies never sounded so annoying at any other time of the day. 7:12 am Gosh, twelve minutes go by fast. Why hasn’t Fabulous Flatmate gotten up yet? Maybe set the alarm wrong. Nope. Was right. I have to get up soon. I need to wash hair and blow dry it straight so that hair can go “whoosh” whenever I turn my head

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1124368727960102042005-08-16T12:35:00.001+10:002005-08-18T22:38:47.973+10:00

Will write more and write better; attend the Melbourne Writers’ Festival, sponge their knowledge, apply own wit, churn out best seller and quit Rather-Large-Bank.Be more assertive at work – less “umm…I think you are wrong”, but more “you’re completely off the radar”.Will do tax return. Very important. Perhaps should be at number 1.Procrastinate less. Not everything is like an honours’

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1123585198004631582005-08-09T20:59:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:20:05.031+10:00

Sparkles at the door...

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1122902594663353912005-08-01T23:23:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:20:19.455+10:00

There's nothing better than a cocktail at Ellis Street Lounge to beat those Tuesday blues. Wouldn't you agree, Sparkles?

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1122899727339678782005-08-01T22:32:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:57:30.122+10:00

I have never been one to get up before lunch on weekends. With the short days of winter, I see about three hours of daylight on my days off. I care little for breakfast, or brunch. So it was without surprise that the one meal I had at Tiffany’s was late afternoon tea. On a lazy Saturday afternoon, after yum cha at Shark Fin House, Sparkles and I debated the plan for the rest of the day.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1119264441852692432005-06-20T20:47:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:21:00.969+10:00

Dead fish on Mornington Beach

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1119264069787809252005-06-20T20:41:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:22:06.605+10:00

Frankston Pier

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117894563676839122005-06-04T23:59:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:22:21.390+10:00

...holding up a BarbieAccording to a Melbourne urban myth, Barbie dolls stripped of their itsy-bitsy clothes walk the city streets on late nights. One night, while out with Pixie, Cartman and several other visiting friends, we came across our first ever wondering Barbie. A passerby was as amused by her as us and insisted on being in the photo.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117893802607521722005-06-04T23:58:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:22:50.506+10:00

A rare sunny day by the Yarra

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117893114082267522005-06-04T23:51:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:23:20.665+10:00

That's right! It's Gabriel Gatè!

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117892927577245592005-06-04T23:48:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:23:37.182+10:00

Gin Palace

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117892385020421302005-06-04T23:39:00.000+10:002009-08-22T21:00:52.530+10:00

A new pair of shoes courtesy of the half-yearly sales. Marc Jacobs. 50% off. I think I've done well.Pixie, Gigglesworth, what do you think??

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117861745948671552005-06-04T14:42:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:59:37.547+10:00

In light of recent change in work environment, that is, the new reporting line in the form of my Shag-Fiend Director (formerly known as Band Geek Manager), I wonder how the following will go down at bars and pubs:"Hi, I need to shag you now to further my career. We might not work in the same company, but I need to shag you. Now."I think Shag-Fiend Director is trying to live the single life

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117541409597418372005-05-31T22:06:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:32:35.527+10:00

This week is the start of my second rotation. I feel the pressure to perform for the first time since joining the Rather-Large-Bank. No more Easygoing Manager keeping me updated on the trials and tribulations of Pommy Dude and Half Pint Hottie. I feel out of my depth and far from my comfort zone. Of course, all this uneasiness has nothing to do with work. Pft. As if. Work is child’s play in

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117541157124553562005-05-30T22:19:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:25:45.060+10:00

I have a cold. My nose is a leaky tap that refuses to be turned off. All I want is some hot tea. But hot tea is one of the commodities that I will have to live without -- hot tea and heating and everything that is powered on electricity. All I have is a lavender scented candle and three hours of battery life on my laptop. The power to the little house in Brunswick has been shut off. Some

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1117027929214906102005-05-25T23:28:00.002+10:002009-08-22T20:33:36.956+10:00

“Polly, did you hear the latest gossip?” asked Easygoing Manager excitedly as I walked back to my desk after lunch. Easygoing Manager is in his thirties. He looks the part of the most accomplished Rugby Union fullback, battle scars and all. But when it comes to office gossip, it is a sin to be left out of the loop, even if one is purposely built for a rugby scrum. I, too, was all ears.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1116501811024140472005-05-19T21:23:00.000+10:002005-06-04T22:22:27.560+10:00

I was late to work again today. But I had a very good excuse. I wanted to sleep in. I wanted to sleep in because I did not want to wake up from this awesome dream I was having.In my dream, Pixie, Cartman (Pixie's man) and Gigglesworth were down in Melbourne visiting. Gigglesworth also brought with her the entire Argentine rugby team*. Jose, in particular, was very funny and charming.To accomodate

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1115721797049988612005-05-10T20:43:00.002+10:002009-08-22T21:48:39.365+10:00

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about this little thing called yellow fever. It might be referred to as “Asian lover” in other geographical locations, but my friends (yellow and otherwise) and I use the term in fun and jest. It’s a derogatory term everyone who’s been to UNSW would be familiar with.I don’t know who it was that coined the term “yellow fever” or when we started using it at uni, but

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1115129963546810792005-05-04T00:19:00.001+10:002009-08-22T20:30:36.641+10:00

Oh, dearest loveliest laptop, how I missed your fully-functioning ways!I have been incredibly slack in writing. So much for the New Year's resolution of writing at least 5000 words per week. I think I'm averaging less than 100 words per month, and most of which are crap. Unless one counts the vast amounts of email I'm sending to Pixie and Gigglesworth everyday from work. They are gold. And get me

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1112405709742732302005-03-09T11:28:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:31:28.659+10:00

At yet another grad drinks recently, I was introduced to the Divorcee, a major flirt and quasi-attractive. A few days later, the Divorcee phoned me at work. But having been accustomed only to hearing the Heartbreaker on the other end of the work phone, I mistook the Divorcee for the zero flirt and ultra attractive Heartbreaker. “Heartbreaker? What’s up? You coming for Gold Button’s birthday

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1110021576721617062005-03-05T22:19:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:33:53.745+10:00

Amongst the grads, I am fortunate have enough work to wade through the day. But there are many times when working really involves email conversations with friends.The Heartbreaker works on the floor above me. He is not into emailing. He is a man of spoken word and prefers to call me on my extension.BRRRING BRRRING…BRRRING BRRRING…goes the telephone everyday at eleven.“Huuullo, Rather-Large-Bank,

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1109414852528354482005-02-26T21:47:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:34:07.975+10:00

There's a daddy-long-legs in the corner of my room. It has probably lived here longer than I have, so I always felt a little rude (and scared) to just whack it dead with a rolled up newspaper.A few minutes ago, a beetle (I think) of those annoying flying kind managed to get in here and caused a buzzing ruckus. The beetle (I think) flew around and around, bumping into walls and doors like a girl

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1109392095004970412005-02-26T15:19:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:34:23.671+10:00

“How’s the house?” Farm Boy enquires everyday over lunch or email.“Meh,” I would begin unenthusiastically. We both know that the share house is a point of great angst for me. But once the topic is out in the open, I would continue the story of my rundown Brunswick granny flat with much animation.“I started to cook pasta last night. In heels, because I was too lazy to change out of them and I like

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1108891136391789102005-02-20T19:51:00.000+11:002005-02-20T20:31:46.016+11:00

Miss Gigglesworth is slightly miffed that she has not been featured in this blog at a high frequency. She requests a special post just for her.So I will write about something that happened to us last year on the night of the FA Cup semi-final.That Saturday night, we were invited to a friend's house-warming, under the impression that it would be a house full of Swedish men baring their rock hard

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1108619029427094912005-02-17T16:37:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:34:44.892+10:00

Work is a many strange splendoured thing. My brain has spent the last week and a half bombarded with information and I keep a pleasant demeanour whenever I am at the Rather Large Bank’s headquarters. I feel very uncomfortable at my own pleasantness; the usual horrid sarcasms are eager to be let off the leash.There are four grads in Risk, all of us are from interstate. Farm Boy is from the wheat

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1108387025599574682005-02-15T00:06:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:35:12.576+10:00

Lately, I think I've become a guru of some sort in strategies for dating wars. I may be far away from those in need of such advise, but the war is commanded successfully by my far-reaching influence.I should also mention that Optus has been instrumental in terms of telecommunications support. Their efforts, though very expensive, have been valuable.Now, let me share some of my wisdom that I have

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1108385937907106252005-02-14T23:48:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:35:32.621+10:00

Wednesday, 2 February 2005My mum left for Sydney today. The reality of living here by myself has slowly started to sink in. I am still here at Aunt T’s house, quietly amused by Manchild’s strange behaviour.The following is a small collection I have noted in the past few days.The boy -- I cannot call him a man, I think you will soon see why -- is either deaf or exhibits selective hearing.“Did you

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1108217132038367412005-02-13T00:45:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:36:23.911+10:00

Friday, 28 January 2005It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young sassy Shanghainese mademoiselle with a sensible job and of suitable child-bearing age must be in need of a male equivalent.This universal truth has brought me to my new home in Melbourne, though perhaps I should elaborate further lest you think I’ve somehow been sold as a child bride.Two days before I left, I was still

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1108193277523382472005-02-12T18:27:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:36:41.261+10:00

I'm alive! And well!! Despite living in the yuckiest sharehouse in the history of sharehouse living.Have much to tell. Much. Too much. But I'll have to update another time. Going out to have dinner (and possibly movie too) with a friend of Hermione. Hmm, maybe he could be given the alias of Harry Potter.Feel like ditching dinner and just sit here and reveal all about my adventures here. But

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1106573322931164072005-01-25T01:28:00.003+11:002009-08-22T20:37:28.161+10:00

I've said goodbye to many people over the past several days; some I'm sure I won't see for a long time, some I know I will not ever see again in my life, and some who I will miss dearly but take in the comfort that we didn't really utter goodbyes.Careful, this may get so corny that it's indigestible without a hearty dollop of butter.Tonight, I had dinner with Pixie and Anonymous, my two bestest

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1106359869471375822005-01-22T02:15:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:37:44.209+10:00

Have wundervull friends.Love my wundervull friends who are generous, kind and trek from far away places to say adieu before I leave.I leave next week.I will miss my dear wundervull friends. Ja, I will miss their wundervull ways; who's going to start speaking in woeful German and Russian with me when drunk??Methinks I will treasure moments. Wundervull moments like that of coercing Gigglesworth to

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1105844932038518582005-01-16T13:46:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:38:08.193+10:00

There is a clear difference between paternal and maternal love. A fine example of which can be found in my family.Amidst the intense heat of summer, we are all in an uproar in preparation for my departure to Melbourne. As an only child, this uproar is by no means any kind of exaggeration.For two days straight, my mother took me shopping for new work clothes. I bought up big on crisp business

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1105540187133580182005-01-13T01:40:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:38:31.725+10:00

My friend, Gigglesworth, sent an email in which she wrote the following regarding the upcoming big move south:I think ------ is an arse. Not worth losing sleep over. You've got that wonderful adventure ahead of you in Melbourne.And don't forget the AFL hotties!!!!!!!!!!!! Too hot!!!But as the date draws nearer, I am dreading it more. I even think that the aforementioned hot football players are

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1105148700865881822005-01-08T13:06:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:38:48.373+10:00

Friday night, a box of Belgian chocolates sat opened on my lap. Exotic variety with flavours such as Raspberry Framboise, Hazelnut Orange Praliné, Gianduja, Walnut Noix, and Amaretto…one of the best presents my favourite uncle has ever sent from London. He always sends excellent birthday and Christmas goodies. For my birthday last year, he sent me a series of pictures he took at Abbey Road.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1104756326777047012005-01-03T23:30:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:39:12.601+10:00

Hermione first graced this humble blog as Rom-Com. She did not take to the name and is now reborn as Hermione Granger, the brightest girl at Hogwarts (our version is shot on location at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, with various other exterior filming done in Melbourne).Hermione, Pooh, Pixie and I reunited this New Year’s for another round of immature giggles. It was just like

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1103892449608054962004-12-24T23:10:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:39:33.636+10:00

Growing up, Christmas held little significance for me apart from the stifling heat in which I would wait for my parents to come home from work, whence I would complain about our lack of Christmas spirits. I was not really the modern day Tiny Tim, but my dramatic whinges about our tinsel-less existence would have made Mr. Dickens very proud.Lest you picture a bleak Christmas with a young Polly

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1103612611492080612004-12-21T17:44:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:39:56.804+10:00

My mobile phone sprang into its polyphonic splendour while I was driving along the M4 motorway last week. I didn’t want to risk a fine by answering it. My mother, in the passenger seat, dove straight into my bag and flip opened my phone. I screamed for her to just let the phone ring out. “Harlow?” said mummy dearest without notice to my panicked cries. “Now Polly drive at the road. She call

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1102943617267598172004-12-13T22:08:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:59:37.547+10:00

On Friday night, Pixie and I went to worship the venerable Mr Pitt and Mr Clooney at the temple of Ocean's 12. We saw it at the local multiplex in our not-very-safe western Sydney suburb. With cautious instincts ingrained in us since our teens, we walked briskly to the carpark after the movie.Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a large group of boys. This wasn't a rare sight in our good ol'

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1102625457031285642004-12-10T07:39:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:40:57.047+10:00

High School Rival and Chubby Solicitor have been taking dance lessons in preparation for their wedding. On Monday night, they invited their close friends to waltz with them so that we do not look like an embarrassing bunch of Britney Spears impersonators in January. A look of pure hatred and horror came over my face when I foxtrotted my way into the suburban dance studio. While I remembered

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1102247966979915162004-12-05T22:41:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:42:17.059+10:00

My creative outbursts are always in overdrive during exams. I had a great many things to write about over the last two weeks, but such urges were quashed as I chained myself to my laptop in order to write my thesis and study mundane things like Stochastic Analysis. Now that everything is finished and done (forever!) I feel my brain shrivel up like a prune.Last week, the Mallavian Whiz told me

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1101295815448181252004-11-24T22:23:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:42:37.908+10:00

Between the two of us, my best mate Pixie and I exhibit the most comprehensive knowledge of movie and music history. I recently got her hooked on the Internet Movie Database website. Every couple of days, I get a 'did-you-know' phone call from her.'Did you know that Colin Firth is going to be in a new movie playing a lobotomist?' she said this afternoon.'No. No way. He can't break my heart like

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1101046789668113782004-11-22T01:11:00.002+11:002009-08-22T20:43:12.679+10:00

The most surprising thing of 2004 has been my newfound friendship with the Mallavian Whiz. For a large part of my undergrad years, he has been a mere speckle on my radar; I noticed him, I thought he was slightly odd and I never really acknowledged his presence except to poke fun at his oddness. It wasn’t until this year that I actually began to talk to the MW. And it wasn’t until recently

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1100781003491440462004-11-18T22:28:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:43:23.450+10:00

Polly's momma is not unlike Polly. She gets herself into all sorts of mess and hilarity.Momma likes to haggle. Her philosophy in life is "don't buy if it's not half off". This applies to every store, which makes shopping at some of the more trendy establishments very embarrassing.Yesterday, momma's haggling ways got her into a spot of bother. She still pretends to be naive, but dear readers, my

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1100526348696188042004-11-15T23:39:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:43:35.902+10:00

The last episode of Sex and the City finally aired tonight. I was rather disappointed. After six years of emotional investments, I am left feeling like I've accidentally dropped the last piece of a thoroughly enjoyed chocolate brownie on the floor.Perhaps what was more of a let down was Mr Big's name.John. Fucking John! Out of all the names in the world, and after having six years to come up with

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1100345339929362542004-11-13T22:12:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:43:48.562+10:00

The house was run amok by the Bald Baby, a delightful two-year-old boy of my kind parents' friends who stayed with us over the weekend. He is, by far, the best and brightest two-year-old of my acquaintance.He is also the only two-year-old of my acquaintance, so my judgements could be a little biased.It's been a very wet weekend thus far. I've been sneezed on and peed on by the Bald Baby. Yes,

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1099840662085818152004-11-08T01:37:00.002+11:002009-08-22T20:44:23.757+10:00

With little drama, and a mere two year separation from my mum, dad and I leapt off a Qantas jumbo jet and ran into mum's arms. Truthfully, though, only I ran. Dad was very dignified and did not cause a scene.I was nine years old. Not old enough to have the typical reserved-ness instilled in me. As years went by, it became clear that being reserved and being Polly never meshed well together.For a

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1099800210171806972004-11-07T15:01:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:44:38.352+10:00

I will be on a self-imposed sabbatical from this page until 29 November.Damn exams and that bitch of a thesis.Damn that Chinese practicality and hunger for all things academic.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1099731767845925642004-11-06T20:02:00.001+11:002009-08-22T20:45:41.832+10:00

(Picture taken in Rotorua, on the north island of New Zealand. The blurriness of the water is not due to my poor photographic skills. It is steam rising from the water. Rotorua is in an active volcanic region.)Beautiful and fabulous New Zealand. Land of hobbits, elves, men and dwarves, living together in harmony.And now the destination for ye who are tired and weary, those who are tempest tossed;

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1099704665140888982004-11-06T13:15:00.000+11:002005-01-03T01:16:10.860+11:00

The nightmarish Friday has drawn a close and I now begin the day, like many other young single girls about town, with a slight headache from consuming a little too much wine. Yesterday was my last official day of uni. There is still a thesis talk, three exams and that bitch of a thesis to attend to. But official is official. I am on my way out into the big bad world. I searched for my notes in

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1098711872200938672004-10-25T23:44:00.000+10:002004-10-26T00:58:54.320+10:00

A conversation between my mother and I. Mama: How was your meeting with your supervisor this morning? Me: It went well. It was the first time he seemed to like the stuff I did. Mama: So was it just you and him at the meeting? Me: I only have one supervisor. At this point, I was getting somewhat annoyed. I have been working on the thesis for almost a year now. I must have mentioned my

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1098451939719733362004-10-22T23:30:00.000+10:002004-10-23T00:41:45.896+10:00

My lecturer from Categorical Data Analysis suffers from acute Eastern European chic. His symptoms thus far have included double deniming, over large belt buckles, and various overtucked unsightly patterned short sleeved business shirts (which according to many metrosexual style bibles should be burnt unless you are still at school). At last night's lecture, he upped the ante. He arrived,

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1098376009873451222004-10-22T02:26:00.000+10:002004-10-22T13:34:21.870+10:00

Unless I'm otherwise mistaken, and Rambo is really struggling to make ends meet, this chap is probably another actor trying to take the City of Angels by storm. Picture was taken early this year on holiday with my lovely parents. The trip itself is a whole other can of worms, open for discussion at a later stage.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1096175712618668742004-09-26T15:10:00.000+10:002004-09-26T15:21:00.750+10:00

A few years ago, Pixie and I lived in Vancouver as exchange students. It was a strange idea to go on exchange with one’s best friend, when the whole aim usually was to get away from all the regular friends and see if one can stand on own feet for six months. Some might say that we barely survived the experience, but that’s really a matter of opinion. We share some of the fondest memories

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1096121727728179702004-09-25T23:33:00.000+10:002004-09-26T15:30:36.446+10:00

I met up with Gigglesworth tonight to celebrate her new job at The Very Sought After Bank. It was also the first time I got to meet her new boyfriend. I did what all good friends do in such situation -- sat still, not judge, and made witty commentary. I think my efforts were well received. The "checking-out" was a mutual event. There was much pre-conceived ideas and images on both sides. But the

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1096031529345608222004-09-24T22:45:00.000+10:002004-09-24T23:15:45.676+10:00

The Pixie and I clogged up the phone lines for three hours the other night. She had a very bad run of luck that day -- most of which was attributed to CityRail and their over-zealous appetite for profit (and blatant disregard for actually running the trains). During the course of conversation, we remembered events surrounding a certain alcohol infested camp in second-year uni. Many a thing

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1095862387377522952004-09-22T23:57:00.000+10:002004-09-24T23:17:41.700+10:00

The Rather-Large-Bank does not have a "relocation imbursement" policy. I'm beginning to think ill of them. It's not like a $200 plane ticket is going to put a dent in shareholder profit, considering they had $100 million to throw around (and consequently lose) in the forex market. The move is overwhelming me now. The euphoria has now subsided; all that is left is fear. I am praying that Flea's

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1095769087533060202004-09-21T21:56:00.000+10:002004-09-21T23:43:38.183+10:00

I was supposed to sign my contracts for Rather-Large-Bank and return them last week. I've still yet to do it. I filled in all the forms yesterday and got Boy Who Stole My Shoes to witness my signatures. Seemed only fair as we will be "colleagues" next year, albeit in different cities. I made a giant mess of the tax form. It is now full of liquid paper marks. They will definitely shake their

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1095690695588916312004-09-19T22:13:00.000+10:002004-09-21T22:22:20.963+10:00

A gorgeous Sunday afternoon was spent at Bobbin Head, rowing down the Hawkesbury River with the Very Good Friend and the Pilot. We rowed our version of the women’s cox eight at the Olympics, though the Pilot being a guy was not convincing nor menacing in response to my performance of Sally Robbins dropping the oar. He did not threat to throw me into the water, but only occasioned yells to “just

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365577.post-1095436394719065902004-09-17T23:51:00.000+10:002004-09-18T14:02:27.780+10:00

There is less than eight weeks until my thesis is supposed to be polished and ready for presentation. So that should give me 56 days to write something adequate about the implied volatilities of financial options. This equates to about two pages a day, give or take. Sounds reasonable. But I am not biologically tuned to start work early, stretch out my arms and wave goodbye to the deadlines.

that swellmademoisellenoreply@blogger.com0