Up, up and away

This is quite an announcement I have to make.

I have decided to leave 4BC and take up the chance to travel overseas for five months, leaving the sunny town of Brisbane on August 9th, and returning early January, around the 5th or 6th.

This is huge, and one of the biggest and scariest decisions I've ever made. I've been wrestling with it for some months, but now that I've made the decision I feel much more confident. The official email telling my work colleagues that I'm going has now been sent, so I'm happy to publicly announce it to all my loyal blogalists (both of you).

Many may wonder why I've decided to flee paid work and the country when I've just bought an apartment. Well, I'm just a bit mad. But the flat is tenanted until the end of the year, and I'll return in time to move in and claim the first home-owners grant and stamp duty exemption. I will have no job when I return, but I have left all my doors open here as a start. And it will force me to push myself into exploring other parts of the media industry I'm keen on. Dammit, I'll have to work hard and it will be character-building!

The Wah will be gallivanting and gadding about with me - although this time without his German (or possibly Russian) great coat, which while sad, is far more practical (that bastard weighs a tonne). We're now in the process of booking flights, tours and accommodation, filling out visas and trying on fleeces and windproof jackets. It's all happening very quickly.

I will be keeping an online travel diary - but I'm not sure at the moment if it will be this one. I'm just really, REALLY pissed off with Blogger at the moment - it keeps losing my reviews just as I go to publish them on my review site. GRRRR! I've never had trouble with it up until recently - and I want to be sure if I'm typing on some bizarre Mongolian keypad that my entry gets up and viewable.

At this point the itinerary includes Hong Kong, Beijing, Mongolia & Russia (on the Vodkatrain, yeah!), the Baltics, Greece, the U.K. and Morocco. Side trips to other parts of Europe are also in the works, but will depend on time, money and the movements of family members and friends.

I hope adventures abroad will keep people interested in reading my blog - I know it's been a bit dull and boring of late!

Cheers all, Natalie.

The News Hounds

Last Friday night saw most of the newsroom assemble for a farewell dinner for The Spez, our news director for the last two years. It was such a fun night, and endeared my colleagues to me even more than they already were. In that spirit, I wish to write a few words about each of them, fairly confident they'll never read them, but as a way of quietly thanking them for the positive influence they've had on my life.

G-Watt: The strait-laced, no-nonsense exterior hides a devilishly wicked sense of humour. The ultimate professional, G's a trailblazer, and someone in whose wake I will gladly paddle.

Jazz-man: Such a beauty, with her hippie ways and easy smile. I can't but help feeling relaxed around her - she oozes positivity and fun, but is efficient and always does anything you ask.

Waldo: the original news hound. I thought him abrasive when I first started, but it's just a healthy dose of cynicism after so many years in the "biz". It's a cliche, but I've learnt so much.

Big W: A big man with a bigger voice, W surprised me with a love of British comedy that rivals my own. He's the sweetest guy, and I wish him all the best with his current upskilling.

Bulldog: The brash exterior hides a sensitive soul, and I empathise with his desire to feel involved and appreciated. His varied and entertaining voice reports have inspired me to try different things with mine.

Mr T: A surrogate "Dad" at work, T is old school radio. He doesn't take any of my whingy Gen-Y crap, and I'm all the better for it. It's been a privilege to get to work with and learn from one of the "legends" of Brisbane radio, even if he himself thinks all that stuff is bollocks. ;)

And finally, Spez himself: How can I ever say how grateful I am to the Spez? He hired me, gave me a full-time position, understood and even encouraged my need to be creative, supported me through tough times, gave me feedback, taught me about soccer (even if I didn't quite get it) - all the while remaining the calmest, most tolerant boss I've known. For all this and more, Spez makes my list of people to thank when I win an Oscar. ;)

There are many wonderful others at the station, and I will no doubt gush over them at a later date. But for now, this has been my little newsroom tribute. I look forward to adding compliments about my new boss to the list.

Cheers all, Natalie.

What time is it?

Thursday. 7:00am. Alarm. Snooze.

Thursday. 9:30am. Phone rings. Alarm.

It's a very sensible thing to do, isn't it, on the second day of having a new boss in the newsroom: accidentally sleep in, to be woken only by a phone call reminding you you should have started work an hour earlier. Cue a re-enactment of Hugh Grant's "F***!" scene from Four Weddings and a Funeral. In a sprint of Olympic skill, I managed to get to work by 10:10am. All I could say to my exiting boss was "Well at least you know I didn't plan this".

Ah, well. At least my new boss Chris will have a relatively good idea from the start that I have occasional mishaps with time. I am Time Clumsy. It's times like these I really need a TARDIS. I enjoy my job, and have often said the variety in shifts is the best thing about it. It's also the worst, as it's very hard to get into a routine. My sleep cycles are all up the wah-zoo. Last night I went to sleep at around 2am, after only having five hours the night before, but a good eleven hours the night before that. And I'm bad at going to sleep. I try to stay up and do things so I feel like I've been productive with my day. Then I just end up lying in bed for ages, trying to convince myself to nod off.

Blessed are my workmates though, because they had a perfect right to have a go at me, but didn't.

Hope everyone else is having a lovely June so far. I've got some new reviews up at www.nataliereviews.blogspot.com, so go check it out. Cheers, Natalie.

Baby Brangelina

Is anyone else a teensy bit distressed by the cloying media coverage of Baby Brangelina (soon to be replicated in Franklin Mint commerative doll form for three easy payments of $199.95)?

Does anyone else think the hysterical obsession around the unfortunately-named Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt smacks of "Finally! Angelina Jolie has had a REAL baby! Not just one of those trendy adopted ones".

To be fair, it is her first biological child with Brad Pitt, a stunning celebrity combination that has had magazine editors changing their panties more frequently than Madonna changes her image. So I understand the public interest. But the headlines of "First time Dad Brad" etc make me uneasy. He's adopted her other children, the equally-as-unfortunately-named Maddox and Zahara. Therefore he's their Dad. Therefore Shiloh is his third child.

But the skin-crawling feeling I get when I see these headlines and articles is that those two don't really count, that anyone can adopt, that celebrities do it all the time, and they could never measure up to the tabloid goodness that is a true-blue homegrown white all-American bub. Adopted children just aren't real.

I'm not adopted myself, but I know a few people who are. I've always liked the idea of adopting - hell, anything that saves me having to go through pregnancy, childbirth and the inevitable letting myself go. ;) It disturbs me that there could be adopted young 'uns out there picking up the wrong message from all of this. While healthy baby Shiloh is no doubt welcome, she's just another baby in an expanding family, with no more rights than Maddox and Zahara. I'm sure Brangelina themselves know this - the question is, does the media? And do the rest of us?

There are two offshoots to this topic I wish to explore further, but maybe another day. The first is why the celebrity magazines are so obsessed with couplings and babies (short answer: because it's the only thing celebrities do that most of the rest of us do as well, therefore it equates us with them in a certain way); the second is the bane of my life: bad baby names. I swear to God, it is one of the biggest crises facing the Westernised world at the current time. But more on that later.

In the meantime, I've put my five cents in on the Baby Brangelina frenzy, so surely now it will go away. Hah!

Cheers, Natalie.

P.S. I would have inserted a photo of the happy family - but hey, it's all rights protected and I just bought an apartment. I don't want to get sued!

Girl Clumsy, Esquire

Quite possible the strangest deal I've ever done.

There is now a "Sold" sticker plastered over the "For Sale" sign outside this block of apartments. It appears I have purchased one.
I am, apparently, a home-owner.

Dear God, what have I done? ;)

It all happened so quickly - after I had stopped caring about home ownership and resigned it to the "Eh...manyana!" pile.

I guess I should post the story in more detail, but for now basic rundown is this - apartment in Spring Hill, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, small balcony but quite liveable, 4-5 years old, a good price (ie, less than I had been planning to borrow), body corps paid up until next March, tenants paying enough rent to cover my mortgage while I decide what the hell to do with my life. ;)

I will post more later, but for now, let me leave you with a photo of the other groovy thing that happened this week:

Who's that sexy star? Well, that's me, but the bloke is Vinnie Jones, out here filming "The Condemned" with none other than Stone Cold Steve Austin.

I went out for the media tour of the set on Wednesday 31 May, and despite there not being any official photo session, I managed to grab Vinnie quickly and got my fabulous fellow journo Jasmine to snap a quick shot. Thank God you can't see my double chin!

Cheers for now all! Natalie.

"I'm the Juggernaut, bitch!"