Where's your head at?

Sydney. New Year's Eve. It's, like, the best place on the planet to be. Right? Right. I think I'm correct in saying that it houses the largest firework display in the world, so being here for the big NYE is pretty spesh.

So what did I do? I missed the whole thing.

Basically, ages ago we heard that Basement Jaxx were playing at a festival called Shore Thing on Bondi. It was part of the reason we planned to be in Sydders for New Year. We LOVE the Jaxx. Duncan and I saw them at the Wireless festival in Hyde Park last summer and were blown away. Anyway, tickets sold out in an instant. When we got to Sydney we heard that a second batch of tickets were going on sale, so we queued for ages - and didn't get any. Boo.

So, hope for the Jaxx were dashed. Eve was gutted (they're her fave and the main reason she'd agreed to come and meet us) and everything else was either really expensive or sounded rubbish (Judge Jules? No thanks.) That was until 2 days before NYE. Eve and I were in reception, dancing to Basement Jaxx on the radio and giving it the whole "Boo! This could have been us at New Year!" when someone over heard us and said that they were desperate to get rid of two tickets. B-b-b-b-b-b-bingo bango!

So $150 dollars each later (eek) and Eve and I had our NYE wish come true. We were Bondi bound. On the actual day people were up at 7am to head down towards to quay and stuff to wait for the fireworks at midnight. Nutters. People don't even wait that long to watch a Bon Jovi concert. By 9am there was something like 10,000 people waiting to get in to the Botanical Gardens. Blurp.

Anyway. Pottered about in the day. Had a sober conversation with Dave, which ruled. Went over to Pott's Point and had a lovely lunch with Adam and Amanda Fry (used to work with them both at Sugar, didn't I?)



Next, had a few drinks with Eve, Duncan, Jenna and James on the balcony and then it was time... headed off at 8.30 for Bondi! How excitement. You'd think, wouldn't you? Except for a) by the time I got to the bus stop I was desperate for the toilet and the public one was out of order b) there were LOADS of screaming 15 year olds all drunk and going the same way as us c) after waiting for the bus for, like, ever we realised that the bus to Bondi had been re-scheduled for a different stop d) I had no idea where this stop was e) when we eventually found the stop the bus took ages f) when the bus finally came along all the 15 year olds boarded and spent the entire journey singing "where's your mo-bile?" and "show your red-pants" and other 'hilarious' variations to the "Where's your head at?" tune g) I sat in vomit on the bus and got it all over my wrist. So yeah. New Year's Eve didn't start with a bang.

The set up at Bondi was pretty amazing though. It was like a proper festival on the beach and once I'd got through the gates, used the loo and bought a Redbull it was all good. Rockety Rock. At midnight we got fireworks too, although not as spectacular as the main ones I fear, and then the Jaxx came on! Whoop! It was amazing. Eve and I hugged each other and danced and squealed - and then turned around to find some bloke urinating all over the backs of our bare legs. Nice. Welcome to 2007.



The set wasn't as good as when I'd seen them in London, but it was still a pretty cool way to see in the New Year. Seeing the gorilla was my favourite part. I got very excited. Where's your head at? I'm still not really sure.

Bus back was mental. There were hundreds of people waiting to get back to the city. Sucked to be us. But eventually an empty one came past at about 2.30am and we piled on, with Tom from Brazil. All good. Back to the hostel. Drank champs until 6am and then decided to gate crash the bar Duncan was working in. So that's where we went, and danced to RnB until 8.30am. Kriss Kross'll make ya Jump Jump.

So yeah. That was New Year's Eve. Bit gutted that I missed the display. But I guess I can come back and do that anytime. It was good, man. Happy New Year.

Come...come...come in to my world...

It's just suddenly dawned on me that apart from the odd picture of the Opera House, which let's face it we've ALL seen before (snoring!) you guys have, like, no idea of where I am. Or what I see everyday. Or where I eat the 5 dollar steaks. So here we go. Samantha Wood, this is your (current) life...

Our road. Pitt Street.



The hostel building from a distance. It's like Buckingham Palace, right?



The MAZE hostel.



Global Gossip next door where I use the internet. I'm there now.



World Square, over the road, where we do our shopping.



Coles. Our supermarket in World Square.



Gloria Jeans. My favourite coffee place.



Hot Dollar where you can get anything. Rather like G&T's. Plus home of "The Surprising Leg."



Scruffy's where we go at 5am for a final drink or eat steak for $5.





Oz Turk. Best kebabs in the world. Even better than Turkey.



And finally, Paddy's Market where everyone goes to get anything.

Christmas Day, Christmas Day...

...what do you do on Christmas Day?

I wake up early and rub my eyes. I open my stocking with big surprise.



And shout hip hip hooray!

I didn't do any of the rest of the song, apart from "I eat some turkey, pudding and pie - and shout hip hip hooray" but that was a bit later. And I didn't actually shout hip hip hooray.

So yeah. I'm lying there, fast asleep on Christmas morning and my phone starts going off at, like, 10am. I pick it up sleepily and guess who it is? Evo. At first I don't really get what's going on (Christmas Eve was a big one, okay?) and then realise that she's here, in the kitchen and that I should have been up at 8am to greet her. Whoops.

Hot foot it in a haze down the stairs with a stocking for her, and one for Dunners, that have been stashed under my bed for weeks. Along with the parcel that rocked up at the Maze for me from the lovely David Earl. And there they are - Duncan and Eve, sat in the kitchen. And immediately it's like old times. Hip hip hooray!

Open our presents. Eve got a load of things from her mum. Duncan got a parcel from Mooms with bits and pieces in - and some body wash for me. Thanks Mooms. Duncan got me a T-shirt I'd seen ages ago and loved. It says "My parents beat me and I turned out okay." I normally hate joke t-shirts but found it funny. Because it's true. (I'm clearly kidding. I never needed a smack, I was such an angel...) He also got me a Bundaberg Rum beach towel to remind me of Australia. Bless him.



So then I open the parcel from Dave. I can barely contain my excitement. I love post and he'd sent it to the Maze ages ago. Inside was a My Chemical Romance mug (because he knows I'm ROCK), a snowman finger puppet (so I don't forget what snowmen look like), a Sidney snake finger puppet (to scare away the deadly spiders) and an AMAZING letter. I loved it. But my favourite part was the Dave-made card which had a picture of me on the front. Dave - you're a creative genius and you made my day. Thank you.





I'd sent Dave a parcel too. I can tell you what was in it because I told him when I called him later on Christmas day after too many glasses of champagne (mum and dad fyi, I tried to call you guys a few times but it wouldn't connect.) I bought Dave this fake, plastic leg that you trap in drawers and car boots and doors and stuff. It's hilarious. It's called "The surprising leg - so realistic, you'll be astounded." Duncan and I laughed for about half an hour when we saw it in the Hot Dollar shop. So I bought it for Dave as I knew he'd appreciate such a juvenile gift, and sent it. But on the custom's declaration sticker on the outside of the parcel, instead of just writing "toy" or "gift" I put "fake, plastic leg." So no wonder it hasn't turned up. Idiot.

So back to the day. Parcels were opened. Eve and I caught up. And then Jason came along, his normal stressy self, to set up the champagne breakfast and buffet lunch for the hostel. I helped as best I could, but Duncan took over - opening bottle after bottle of champs for everyone. It was great.

Stuck on a dress (I'd bought one for the day. I know...), grabbed some champs and the gift I'd bought them and made my way in the hot, hot heat over to Allen and Wendy Dodd's house. Originally when they'd invited me for Christmas day I'd declined, wanting to do the whole Bondi thing with friends. But as the day had got closer I fancied a bit of a family gathering, and so decided to take them up on their kind offer - and it was great. Allen greeted me with a stocking full of presents and a glass of pink champagne, and we opened gifts and chatted until lunch. Then followed the full festive food works with more wine and champs. Then we watched home movies of their kids growing up. It was like a proper Christmas - with Christmas hats and a gran and everything. I loved it so, so much.



Staggered back full, happy and tipsy in the hot sun at about 5pm and had to hit the sack for a snooze before being woken for some more drinks by Duncan and Eve. But that didn't last long. After a couple more glasses of bubbly and 'that' phone call to Dave, I went to bed again at about 8pm. But the day had been great. Hip hip hooray.

Christmas Eve

It's Christmaaaas!

So, Christmas Eve was spent getting little presents for the crew at the flat (Sarah, Dan, Kisty, Kelly, Ryan, Jess, Lisa and James) and then getting ready for the Booze Cruise. To be honest I wasn't really feeling it, but because I'm on the Ent's team I didn't have much choice. Sucks to be me. Plus, I'd managed to flog about 40 tickets for the cruise, raking in the commission, so felt I should go and party with the poor backpackers I'd totally ripped off. Yeah, sorry about that guys - made a total mint out of you, didn't I?

The gang had all decided on going dressed as gangsters. I wasn't feeling that either so went against the flow and dressed as a punk as I had done for the Maze fancy dress party two days previously. No one gets it though. They just think it's me being me. I guess it kind of is.







So yeah. The boat was rammed and sweaty and rowdy and I felt like a sixth former again. I hated it. Until the free wine was flowing. Then I loved it, didn't I? So after that, four hours later, I nipped in for one at the Gaff (totally lost everyone) and then on to Milk (totally found everyone) where I hooked up with Duncan, AKA Harry Highpants (his work mates have called him this because of his Simon Cowell-esque work trousers. I love it.) We then hit Stonewall, the gay bar I can't believe I've only just been too (it was brilliant) where I ran in to this dude. Remind you of anyone famous?



Finally Duncan put me in a cab and paid the driver to get me home. Thanks, honey. And apart from ripping it up to some Christmas songs behind reception with Steve, Gordon and Jason - that was my Christmas Eve. And to be fair, it was pretty cool.

The Christmas bells are ringing...

I love Christmas. I remember distinctly being, like, five or something and watching the BBC news on Christmas Eve at about 6pm after tea. They had this shot of a pair of Santa boots crunching along in the snow and the newsreader was all like "he's on his way kids!" It was too much for me. I had a fit - tears and everything. I was so excited. My big brother Dave had to carry me to bed.

And every year after that it's been pretty special. The year I got my first Carebear (Cheer Bear) in my stocking. The time I found the carrot I'd left out for the reindeers in the flower bed half eaten. Having to wait for all family members to be present to open our gifts - and being annoyed as both brothers were never in the room at the same time. Crystal Barbie. Crystal Ken. Christmas Eve, eating curry dip and onion rings with Paula. Christmas night, drinking vodka and erm, more vodka with Nat and Steve. It's all been so good.

But not this year. It doesn't feel like Christmas at all really. Don't get me wrong - I'm in Sydney, it's great, but it's a wee bit weird. As much as I love Christmas at home (see above) I have spent a good few years wishing I was somewhere else. Wondering what it would be like. And to be honest, so far it's a bit rubbish. It doesn't feel like Christmas because it's hot and I have no-one to buy presents for. Sucks to be me.

So to try and make ourselves feel a bit more festive we took these. It didn't really work. I just felt like an idiot.

Malcolm Smalley

Duncan and I practically have our own language. I'm sure it's pretty frustrating for everyone else involved (did I say frustrating? I meant annoying) but that's what you get when you live in someone's pocket for six or so years.

For example, if something happens to be really gross I'd be like "Duncan, it was totally 'in the state of Denmark'." And he knows what I mean. I suppose that one's quite obvious, right? (Hamlet. Act I, Scene 4: Marcellus says "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.") But there's loads of others. We could have our own phrase book.

So anyway, Duncan worked with this guy called Malcolm Smalley in Brighton I think. And from then on, for some reason, if ever Duncan and I want to refer to something as being on the small side of things we'll call it a Malcolm Smalley. For example, if Duncan were to tell me he'd eaten a cheese straw at work I'd be jealous because I love cheese straws (of course I do.) If then he wanted to make me feel better by telling me it was a bit small so not really worth it he'd say "don't worry, it was a bit of a Malcolm Smalley." You dig?

We try and remember not to use this sort of language in everyday life, but it becomes habit. So when I was working at Sugar opposite the very lovely Laura Macbeth and she'd chat about her brother Malcolm who lives in Sydney I'd be like "What? Malcolm Smalley?" Just because in my head, these two words naturally go together. So from then on Laura and I would refer to her brother as Malcolm Smalley. You can see where this is going can't you?

That's right. I've spent a good few years sat opposite Laura talking about this brother of hers in Sydney, Malcolm Smalley, and the other night we hooked up with him! It was rad. We'd exchanged numbers via Laura and agreed to meet in the Green Park bar, where we were drinking with Adam Williams (also of Sugar fame.) But because I had no idea what he looked like every time a guy came in to the bar and had a bit of a look around I stood up and waved. I approached four different boys that night (unlike me...) and none of them were Malcolm Smalley. Finally he arrived, bringing Laura's best friend from Scotland Pammy who I'd already met in London a while back. So yeah, see above - here we all are.

Had a few drinks, a bit of a chat and an "isn't Laura just the best?" kind of gush. He then asked me if at work we all used to call Laura 'Lozenge', as if it was an obvious adaptation of her name. I found it a bit confusing, she's always just been Laura or MacB to me. So I traded and told him about the Malcolm Smalley thing. He didn't really get it either. But it didn't really matter. We had fun all the same.

Cos she's filthy, oooh, and she's gorgeous

Meet Rachael. Our new BFF (that's Best Friend Forever, for those of you not in teen.)

She's basically Fran Babb's best friend. Now I (G)love Fran Babb, so when she said that her BF (Best Friend) Rachael was coming to live in Sydney and that we should all hook up, I kind of felt obliged. What would Jesus do? So we took her along to Indie Night about three weeks ago, and now we can't get rid of her.

She follows Duncan to raves. She stalks us weekly at Indie Night. She literally texts me daily just to see "what I'm up to" and she makes me go in to strip clubs in the afternoon as she enquires about waitressing jobs (yeah, right.) Fran honey - that wasn't the deal.

And the worst bit is that in about three weeks we're going to have to say goodbye to her. And it will feel a bit like missing a limb because she's become such a limpet. So Rachael, leave us alone.

(Clearly I'm hilarious. We ADORE her. Can you tell?)

Working girl

So guess what? As well as being in at Smash Hits again this week (which is where I'm tip-tappety-tapping from now having just transcribed an interview with Australian Idol winner Damien - how excitement) I now have *another* job. That's right. At the weekend Jason (the events manager at the hostel) asked me to be his assistant. Get in.

Basically, the job involves working 9 hours a week. I have to chaperone The Gospel pub crawl on a Tuesday night, do the Bondi to Coogee coastal walk on a Thursday (groan) and then help Jason at the free Coogee beach BBQ on a Saturday. And that's pretty much it. Apart from be friendly and chat to people at the hostel yadda, yadda, yadda (which is why they approached me about the job apparently. Manageress Tiffany was like "I get this energy from you...")

In return I get MY OWN PRIVATE ROOM FOR FREE. I'm so chuffed. The aforementioned sweaty, stinking pitt of an 8-bed dorm that I had resigned myself to being in until January 3rd was really getting to me. Like really. Now I have my own cool, quiet, breezy room and it's lush. I've unpacked all of my stuff and finally feel like I'm living somewhere and can get a good night's sleep. I also get about 90 bucks a week, which isn't much, but considering I'm not forking out for accomodation and have nearly all my days free to freelance, it's all A-OK.

The only thing that saddens me is that Duncan and I are separated. Just like we were at John Menzies. It's cool though. In fact I kinda like it. Because I could spend every waking moment of the rest of my life with that boy (as you all know) but I love it when we email and text each other too and when we're in the same room every day and night (babe) there's no time to do that stuff as well. So now there's a bit of distance bewteen us (shar - like a flight of stairs) I've bought myself a mobile phone so we can keep in touch. You know, important stuff like "Just woken up. Come up and see me. Bring water."