The Hunger Games

Ahh the day of surgery.  Fasting is such fun!  Nil by Mouth from 6:30am they said.  Then you'll go down to theatre around lunchtime they said.  So we will bring you breakfast at 6am they said.

Lies.  All lies.

I woke up around 5:30am with a very sore body (especially after stacking it in the bathroom the night before which had officially made me a 'falls risk' and I wasn't allowed to get up anymore boooo).  I was a bit hungry, so was very excited to get breakfast.  6:05, 6:10, 6:15 no breakfast.  6:20, 6:25 and I was starting to worry that no food would appear before I had to stop eating.  Finally, like an angel, a lovely person came and put a tray in front of me.  Realising I only had five minutes and fearing a nurse appearing and whisking my eggs and bacon away, I scoffed that tray of food down in record time (Man V's Food had nothing on me!), drank the juice, drank the tea and was feeling very impressed with my effort.

Of course then the hours ticked away.  Mum arrived in anticipation of the lunchtime surgery and we sat and looked at each other - 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm, 6pm - I could've had bloody lunch!!  Around 3 mum went off to get some food and said 'I won't eat in front of you if you don't want' due to my hangry status and impending temper tantrum.  'Don't be silly I said - it's fine.'  She then proceeded to go and return to my room with what was quite possibly the most delicious smelling thing from the cafe that she could have bought.  Mum then sat eating it, squashed into the corner of the room with me watching her through narrowed eyes while she refused to make eye contact.  Luckily I had my old friend, morphine to help get me through.

By 6pm, I was hungry, cranky, stressed and tired.  I just wanted this operation to be over so I could start staring at my leg in a vaguely threatening manner in order to command my bones to knit back together at an accelerated rate.  Finally someone arrived to take me to theatre.  I've never been so happy in my life.

So I'm laying in my bed in the anaesthetic area, waiting to go into the operating room when I heard a banjo playing and after thinking I'd lost it for a minute Dr Footz came into the room and said 'can you hear that?  We're playing Keith Urban over the sound system during the operation for you.'  Well played Footz, well played, it completely took my mind off the bag of tools, screws and plates I saw next to to operating table as I was wheeled into the room.  So I drifted off to pleasant KU dreams and next thing I knew I was waking up to Keith singing Wasted Time (which I hoped wasn't a sign about the operation I'd just had) with a brand new cast and a leg being held together by 10 screws and one enormous plate.  Hands down best Keith Urban themed surgery ever.






Back to the ward to sleep and to wake up every 30 mins to look suspiciously at mum and the BFF who were waiting in the room.  The only other thing I remember is waking up at one point and thinking the BFF was wearing a cape - Batgirl was in my room.  She can call it a shrugalero all she wants - it's a cape.

Roll on breakfast.

Dr Footz and the twilight zone

So after finding out the exciting news that I probably couldn't have done more damage to one part of my body if I'd tried, I then got the delightful news that I was going to need surgery (oh god), but before that in order to put the cast on my leg, I'd have to have my ankle 'manipulated'.  Well didn't that sound fun?  Not to worry, I was going to be put into some sort of twilight state so I wouldn't remember what had happened.  Pain is conscious they told me.  All I know is that the morphine was wearing off and I would prefer to be unconscious.  

So the BFF and I got moved to the resus room(!) (don't worry about the name they said).  I was terrified about them having to manipulate my foot, I couldn't understand how I wouldn't feel it if I wasn't anaesthetised?  The Doctor kept telling me I wouldn't remember it.  I was also slightly worried about what I would say in this twilight state - there are many odd thought going around in my head at any given time.  So the BFF was sent out (which is a shame as snapchatting this would have been hilarious).  I was determined to prove them all wrong and remember everything, but all I remember is feeling really relaxed and sleepy and looking at my foot a couple of times, but nothing else.  When they bought me back to reality, one of the Nurses told me I had talked about Keith Urban a lot and made odd noises like 'yip yip yip'.  So I woke up with no memory, a manipulated ankle,  a fetching plaster cast and a BFF eating a Summer Roll at the end of my foot.

Then I was told that the Orthopaedic Surgeon (I shall call him Dr Footz) had been alerted to my broken bits and then just as I asked if I would see him today (it was a Saturday after all) he emerged through the double doors.

It was like he said everything I didn't want to hear:

'admit you to hospital now'

'surgery tomorrow to put in plates and screws'

'will need to stay in hospital for a few days after the operation'

'you won't be able to walk on your foot for three months'

'this is going to be a very long recovery - 12 months'

'you might always have a limp and a scar'

'you need to have another surgery in 12 weeks to take out some of the screws'

'lots of physio for 12 months'

'Harry Styles will cut his hair soon'

Well he didn't say that last one but he could have popped that in and it would have been the same reaction.

I felt that at the end of everything he said there was a little explosion noise and the poor BFF was getting her hand squashed more and more as I listened.  Luckily she was there though and asked the most important question of them all 'will she be okay for the Keith Urban concerts in December?'  Dr Footz then looked at us slightly concerned and said 'how many concerts are there?'  When I told him six I think he was about to call the psych team on us.  He probably thought our priorities were askew - I think they were just right.

So after promises of seeing Dr Footz tomorrow (yay) he went off (probably shaking his head about these two insane girls) and I was wheeled off to the ward.  Minus my pants (side note you know how your mother always told you not to leave the house unless you are wearing clean underwear?  Do that), a lovely breeze blowing and still wearing my lovely RSPCA volunteer shirt.  The photo of me in the wheelchair going to the Ward is the worst picture, but the pain I was in was awful.  Also they tried once again to use my foot to keep the elevator doors open.

Finally I was in my room with my leg propped up on Mt Everest.  Still with no pants.  Bring on the drugs and bring on the surgery tomorrow.  Also sent the BFF home to bring some pants.

PS.  Thank you so much to my BFF.  Without her there that day I don't know what I would have done.  #sheisthebest 

Congratulations! It's broken, dislocated, snapped and torn!

One minute you're sending a photo of an awesome chair to your friend, next minute you're on the ground.

I remember walking down two steps successfully, then I didn't realise there was one more evil step to go.  I teetered on the edge awkwardly (I have a feeling that my arms were flailing about in a windmill fashion), then I heard "snap snap" and I fell in a graceful heap to the driveway.  I then thought the next most important thing to do was to type "want this chair" and finish sending the picture (that's right I held onto my phone with a vice like grip), and then I could concentrate on the fact I couldn't get up.

The odd thing was nothing hurt, nothing really looked swollen, but it was numb and when I tried to lift my leg or foot I COULD FEEL THINGS MOVING.  Things that shouldn't be moving.  Even now when I think about it, I screw up my nose and shudder.  So as I wasn't getting up anytime soon, the lovely ambulance was called and they soon arrived with the lovely morphine.  Hurrah!

One thing I know about myself in these sort of situations is that I don't shut up.  I talk and talk and talk and I don't process anything anyone says to me.  So I need someone to tell me to shut up and listen on my behalf and then tell me what I missed, especially when Doctors are probably telling me important things about myself and my leg.  So I called the BFF.  The BFF was having none of it because she probably thought I wanted something (who me?) and didn't answer the first time, then then when I persevered and called back again she answered with the word "no".  She didn't hang up though (probably on the off chance that I was calling to say I'd just found Keith Urban and had him in the car), but as I pathetically said "I've had an accident", she beat the ambulance to the hospital.

Thumbs up - feeling no pain!

See?  Looks fine to me.

The ambulance driver offered to take      a photo of me in the ambulance   (probably hoping I would stop talking for 5 seconds) and in my morphine state thought yup why wouldn't I want to remember this moment forever?

So we arrived at the hospital and luckily there was nobody with any mega critical medical problems and I got seen really quickly.  In my head I kept going from "oh you've just over-reacted and nothing is wrong" to "it's just probably ligaments" to "it's definitely a dislocated ankle" to "it's just a small fracture - they can plaster me up and I'll be home in time for dinner".

Yeah right.

After the BFF filled in all my medical forms the hospital had thrust upon me (I would have put my name down as Mrs JBJ and occupation as "stalker") and listened to me rambling on about god knows what, I got wheeled down to Radiology.  Unfortunately being tall on a standard size hospital bed isn't the best when you have a bad leg as my foot was completely sticking out over the end of the bed and as they were pushing my bed I felt like my foot was sticking out there with a big red flashing light above it going "push this into a wall", "hit the door frame with this", and my personal favourite "let's stop the elevator doors closing by using this foot".  Seriously.  That nearly happened twice.  

Finally at X-Ray and the poor Radiologist was subject to a few choice swear words as she tried to move my leg and foot into the position to get a good picture.  I asked her if she could see if there was anything wrong and she laughed.  "What can you see I said?" She said she couldn't tell me.  Really? 

So, foot first to stop the lift doors closing, I was wheeled back.  I was positive at this point my ankle was dislocated, because I figured that was what they saw on the X-ray.  Pop it back in and still be home for dinner.  Yay!  Then the Doctor came in, put one Xray on the light box and went "yup there's the break in the fibula" (oh god), put up the second X-ray "there's another break" (pardon?), put up the third X-ray and said "there's a dislocation" (are you kidding me?").  I can't think if they told me then about the torn ligaments and things I was too busy internally freaking out.  I still remember at this point thinking - "oh well, cast on and home!".

Break Number 1

Break Number 2

Yeah right.  

Stay tuned for the next exciting instalment - Dr Footz and the Twilight Zone.

The first time I met Roz Valentine

I've been trying to remember the first time I met Roz Valentine.  

The first time I heard the name Rosslyn Valentine was when my manager at the time Michelle, returned from interviewing people to join the volunteer team at the RSPCA.  Michelle said that this Rosslyn chick was cool and was going to fit in really well with the team in the Ausco shed.  I remember thinking 'cool name'.  Then Roz started work with us.  In our usual cool and calm manner, Michelle and I quizzed her about every detail of her life (do you have pets? Do you like cats or dogs?  Do you like tacos?  Do you like Bon Jovi? (this was more me than Michelle to be honest) Are you married?  Where did you work before this?  - the big issues.  I remember my excitement when she told me her husband was American (I was/am slightly obsessed with all things USA) and when she told me his name was Maurice Valentine I remember thinking 'well that is quite possibly the coolest name I've ever heard'.  Then during the 'when is your birthday' round she said her birthday was November 5^th.  I was taken aback.  My birthday is November 6^th  - holy cow she was stealing my birthday thunder!  Luckily we soon decided that we could have a joint birthday and all was well again.

All of us in the Ausco shed all worked so well together.  Being the volunteer department it was never empty.   The phone never stopped ringing (bugologist anyone?) and the emails never stopped coming (especially the days after there was something on the news about the RSPCA - "I just want to help all the animals").  We always had a constant flow of volunteers and staff popping in during the day (The Meredith Banks memorial chair springs to mind) - including a Rickland or a brown bear on the couch.

Birthdays were big in the shed.  I've never worked anywhere before (or since) that had such amazing birthday celebrations.  We would be in at the crack of dawn preparing for the birthday persons arrival and making sure everyone knew just what day it was.  This was was one of Rozzy's birthdays - we transformed the office into "Poopy's Palace":

Makeshift birthday office to hide in

SURPRISE!

The Queen, the Princess and the King

Who doesn't need a sugar lumps mug?

LOL!

Birthday Girl!

We also seemed to go to events where we danced a lot.  Really, really bad dancing.  Roz could bust a move (or three).

Busting a move with Michelle, on a jumping castle, with a spotty dog.  Degree of difficulty? 10/10

Showing Mo how it's done at the skating rink.

Back to the jumping castle!

...and even while bowling!

Roz would laugh so much she couldn't make any more sound and would even fall down cracking up.  This was out one day for lunch at Fasta Pasta and who knows why she was cracking up, but she was:

Ha!

We all went a little crazy in that shed somedays:

"Hello - Welcome to our office"

Just hanging out, pretending to be Michelle's dogs.

So unimpressed.

And I will never forget the days that Roz met and fell in love with the loves of her life (after Mo of course):

Poppy

Poppy

Winnie

 
No matter what though - I wouldn't change that time for anything in the world.

So anyway, I became slightly obsessed with finding out the exact date that I met Roz Valentine.  I was looking in old diaries, going through emails and facebook trying to work it out.  I don't know why.  

But then I realised.  It didn't matter what day, date, time or year I met Rosslyn Valentine.  It just mattered that I did meet her.  I am so lucky to have called her my friend.  

You will always be my latex salesman Rozzy.  I will always see you checking out my sugar lumps.....and yes, I will have some candy for myself.

I miss you.

Whoa....we're halfway there......

The Brisbane show is over!


It was possibly the best night of my life - from the backstage tour, to the touching (!), to our fantabulous seats - it was amazing.


We picked up our tickets and merchandise when the backstage tent opened at 2pm - ran into Debbie and Jo from the fan club and did a lot of excited chattering with them. Raced home and got back to Suncorp just before the backstage tour started. It was great to see the stadium all setup ready for the show, but empty.





Met up with our tour guides Kendra and Jon's brother Matt (they have the same white teeth) and I got in trouble with Matt for taking a photo while walking down the stairs. Something we had been told not to do six seconds earlier. Whoops. Then we got split up in to smaller groups and then we got to head in the backstage area - it was amazing - so much stuff in one little area. There were so many cables, and screens, and buttons and wires and holy crap it was hot in there. Then we got to go past Jon's quick change area - we weren't allowed in (bummer), but got to see it. Twas very exciting to think in a a few hours JBJ would be standing there sweaty and sans shirt :-)


Then a white light came down from the heavens (or it may have been a techie testing a spotlight) and shone upon.....Jon's white mike stand. Squeal! And yes I got to touch it where he touches it.





We also got to see all Jon's guitars - completely forgot about shaking his maracas though! Never mind, next time. And oh yes there will be a next time.





Then we got to go up on stage. It was so weird being up there and looking at the view they get. The stage is so tiny, there is just so much stuff packed into the area. We saw Tico's drums and David's keyboards and Richie thingy that goes "waw waw" and then got to walk out onto the circle part of the stage that goes into the crowd. That was freakin' awesome.




Then we headed downstairs and lordy be we got to have a photo taken with the guitar Richie uses to open the show with every night. I was terrified I was going to drop it - hence the terrified look on my face:





We also got to see all of Richie's other guitars (I think it was 34 in total) and Kendra gave us one of his picks to take home. Score.


Next up was a chat with Matt who answered any questions we had and then we headed off to dinner. Dinner was great - we ate where the crew were eating and the food was really good.


Next up.....showtime!


Our seats were freakin' amazing - 2nd row dead in front of Richie and close enough to the circle to make the dash when they walked on to it. The setlist was pretty much the same as Melbourne, but I really didn't care, just being that close up made the show awesome (plus any Jovi song is a good one.) Anyway they were about the 3rd song in and JBJ came and stood right in front of me, looked directly at me and SANG TO ME! I was so overwhelmed I forgot to get my camera out and I just stood there and looked like a nincompoop instead. The world slowed down and it felt like 5 minutes, but I'm sure it was only 5 seconds (best 5 seconds ever!). Then JBJ headed the other way and ran out onto the circle and started to come around - I vaulted over everyone (benefit of sitting on the side) and positioned myself ready for a hand slap. Unfortunately he finished the hand slaps and started to run off the circle, but then stopped right in front (above) me to sing something and do jazz hands. I thought "not missing out on this opportunity" so I put my hand through the bars, grabbed his leg mid calf and ended up with a vice like grip near his ankle. He finished singing, ran off (not in horror I hope) and I screamed. I screamed a whole lot.








After a while Jon and Richie moved to the circle to sing some songs (I'll be there for you - siiigggghhhh) and as they were going back to the main stage Richie was heading my way so I put up my hand and got a Sambora high five. He ran off (again not in horror I hope) and I screamed. A lot. Good grief - Joneee and Richie in the same night. I was a very happy camper.






Anyway the show was amazing and was another two and half hours of pure Jovi awesomeness. I can't wait to see what happens in Sydney. Saturday afternoon I am going to the Q&A with JBJ (how can you not say yes to an email with a subject of "ever wanted to be in a small room with Jon Bon Jovi?") Derr.






Next stop Sydney....two down....two to go!

Number 1 - Melbourne

So...the Melbourne show is done!

IT. WAS. AWESOME. I don't even need to add an exclamation mark to that statement, that's how good it was. Two and half hours of just Bon Jovi doing what they do best.

Anyway though rewind a few days back to the start - got to Melbourne and was picked up by Lady Chauffeur Lopez as I had booked my flight to the wrong airport - whoops! Apparently I don't understand the phrase "Don't book a flight to Avalon". It was Oprah mayhem everywhere as she was supposed to be appearing at Federation Square. It was rumoured that JBJ would also be appearing so some fans had been there since the wee hours of the morning - Oprah didn't show up until 4pm and even more unfortunately JBJ wasn't there at all. Lucky I didn't hijack the Lopez/Robinson Hyundai and demand to be driven there :-)

We had dinner at this place called Misty Diner - good gravy it was fabulous! All the food was amazing (and so very American!). Next day did some shopping in Melbourne (my fav shop Minotaur), spent an hour trying to explain to Cara that JBJ does not wear a wig and lurked around the place until it was time for me to be dropped off at my hotel. I'm pretty sure they were glad to see the back of me and my Jovi hysteria :-)

Hotel was great - used my fancy settings on my camera to take a panorama shot. Turned out fancy. Also showed me what a freakin' mess I can make of a hotel room in 10 minutes:

Had some food and then it was time to head for the stadium - was so happy to find that my hotel was pretty much across the road from the concourse to the stadium. Perfect!

Met up with some friends and we had a Jovi chat (the best kind) then went inside.....purchased a $5 bottle of water (bargain!) and headed to my seat. The show was starting at 8pm as it was being streamed live over the net. That means that someone in Japan, Scotland or even the North Pole may have heard my screaming. Lucky them.

My view was pretty good - I was right at the side of the stage, but very close. Had the most annoying person in the world in front of me for a while - she danced like she was at a hoedown (hands on hips and frantic bending at the waist from side to side)....it was very odd. I eventually had to step back and left some other person/sucker in front of me as she was about to whack me in the head. But it was hard to distract me from the main attraction:

Loved the show so much.....so many highlights. Took heaps of pictures - it's hard not to get so caught up in trying to get that perfect picture that you actually miss what is happening. A couple of times I had to force myself to put the camera down and just watch what going on in front of me.

Anyway, Brisbane tomorrow....one down....three to go.

Jovi: 5 days to go. It Begins.

Okay so we are 5 (that's right people FIVE) days out from the first Bon Jovi show I'm going to in Melbourne. I thought I'd share with you all some of my calm, non-panicky, laid-back, totally nonchalant feelings about my upcoming Jovi experience:

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Yes that's right, if you didn't know already, I'm possibly ten seconds away from the wetting of the pants. I really hope I don't implode/explode prior to December 11 or I will have wasted a lot of money on tickets, flights, hotels and other general Jovi merchandise.

So here's the story for those not currently in the know....

Friday 10th - fly to Melbourne, have awesome catch up with awesome friends Cara and Anita and their various awesome cats. Possibly drive them batty with Jovi talk and ask if we can stalk the band around Melbourne. They will be more than ready to push me out the door Saturday.

Saturday 11th - MELBOURNE SHOW! Am in pretty good section (A1) Row P, seat 1. Seat 1 will be great if it's the side nearest the pit so fingers crossed:

Sunday 12th - fly home to Brissy and resume normal working day on Monday. Possibly drive everyone at work insane with talk of how Jon looked, how Jon sounded, how Richie played guitar, every facial expression Jon made, what band was wearing etc etc. They will be more than ready to see me leave work Monday.

Tuesday 14th - DA DA DUM! First VIP Package I've got for this tour. Mum (the lucky woman) and I will be going to Suncorp stadium, getting a backstage tour, some goodies and dinner. Then we get to see the show from the Pit, SECOND ROW. Oh yeah. He is totally touchable from there:

Wednesday 15th - rest and recovery. Also a trip to the dentist, but I don't really think anyone is really that interested in that (me included.)

Saturday 18th - fly to Sydney with my wonderful sister in law Jo. Then at 3pm I'm going to a Q&A with the man himself. That's right, I shall be in a small room with JBJ. Yes people I do realise how dangerous this may be, but I'm willing to take the risk. But what shall I ask him? I really want to know if he likes cats - if he doesn't unfortunately things can never work out between us, but possibly may be a waste of a question. So am still working on the perfect question and praying I don't stand up, open mouth and keel over. This could be a tad embarrassing although the question "Is there a Doctor in the house" would be quite appropriate.

Saturday night Jo and I are heading to the show - I'm so glad I get to go to a show with her! We have seats in the lower half of one side of the stadium which will give me another view of the show:

Sunday 19th - I wave 'bye bye' to Jo and have a day kicking myself for whatever embarrassing thing happened during the Q&A (something will happen - of this I have no doubt). Then that night is my final show - another VIP package - in the Pit, THIRD ROW!

Monday 20th - head home to Brissy and prepare slide show of every single photo I took to show everyone I've ever met. Shed a tear that it's all over and start panicking that I haven't got Christmas presents for anyone sorted.

And that's it!

But never fear.....now we commence the countdown to....

BON JOVI - LAS VEGAS.

103 days to go.

Jovi Tickets....The Quest Continues....

So....it's been a big month. Pretty much my life has been consumed with waiting for Bon Jovi tickets to go on sale, searching for the best Bon Jovi tickets I could find , buying Bon Jovi tickets and counting down to the Bon Jovi shows.

So the last time I blogged I was waiting for the Fan Club Presale tickets to go on sale for the Brisbane show.....I was going to the Brisbane show and that's all I was focussed on....

Well a month later and....I've got tickets for FOUR shows.

You heard right. I've got a ticket for the Brisbane show, the Melbourne show and tickets for two of the Sydney shows. "How did this happen?" I hear you ask. Well to be honest I'm not quite sure.....it all started when.....(flashback music starts and the screen goes blurry)......

All I wanted was the best seats possible for the Brisbane show. The fan club pre-sales were available from 9am so I organised to come into work late and that way I could get my tickets in the comfort of my own home and away from all distractions! I was so naive thinking I could just get tickets in a stress-free way. Ha! I started casually hitting refresh on the "buy tickets" page from about 8.55am and at 9am on the dot the magic words appeared "Fan Club VIP Packages". Now it should be noted that there were no prices or seating maps or really any information available until the minute they went on sale. So I was going in blind.....

Of course I clicked on the front row diamond package (duh). Then the price displayed - 3,500 big ones. It was for two tickets so pretty reasonable really to me , but I still rang my parents (who keep my spending sane) and in the six seconds it took my (sensible) mother to say "hmmm" and my (not-so-sensible) dad to shriek in the background "go for it!" the front row package tickets were gone. I nearly started to cry. That's a lie actually - I didn't nearly start to cry - there were actual tears forming and about to trickle down my cheeks. So I went for the second row tickets - gone! Third row....gone! Fourth row.....available! By this stage my heart was nearly pumping out of my chest and I was slightly hysterical. The cats had long since retreated to the safety of under the bed. "Fourth row, fourth row...there are fourth row available" I screeched to my poor mother who was still on the phone for moral support. "For the love of god just get them!!" she yelled back (by this stage everyone had gone nuts). So I clicked and entered the credit card details so fast my mouse nearly burst into flames. Seriously. I still have the burn marks. Success! I had the tickets and at a much more reasonable price - although after nearly spending $3500 anything seems quite reasonable.

It was now 9.04am. The most stressful 4 minutes of my entire life.

So I toddled off to work, relieving the highs and lows of those four minutes. I did a victory dance upon arrival at work and everyone as very impressed with my tickets. Or they thought I was crazy. Most likely the second one.

So all was fine and dandy until I was sitting at my desk, just minding my own business, doing something work related and my mobile rings....and it's an international number. "Hmmm" I think. "This is going to be really, really good or really, really bad."

It turns out it’s someone from the Bon Jovi fanclub in America telling me there was a bug in their system and they had oversold my Row 4 tickets, (at this point the tears started) but did I mind if they put me in Row 2.

Erm No. No I don’t mind!

Woooooooooooooohoooooooooooooo!

Check out my seats:

I am so going to touch him......

Stay tuned for the next chapter in the incredible Jovi tickets journey:”The Stress Continues....”

Bon Jovi tickets...the quest begins.

I knew it was coming. I just didn't know when. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, it was here.

"What is it?" I hear you ask. "Must be important?"

Oh, it is important.

Very very important.

IT'S JOVI TIME!!!!!!!

I knew they were doing a world tour, but wasn't getting too excited as "world tour" doesn't necessarily mean that Australia is included. Apparently we aren’t part of the world according to some tour promoters. I'm just thankful I don't live if New Zealand. They get nothing. Or Perth. They get less than nothing.

Two weeks ago my wonderful sister in law Jo, who has been well trained to inform me of all things Jovi, messaged me and told me about the small blurb in the Sunday Mail that gave hope that the Jovi was in fact considering coming to Australia in December. Not just to Australia, but to Brisbane! Last time they only played in Melbourne and Sydney and I had to go to Sydney and stay in a hotel that was across the road from a Hooters. Not classy.

Now I was on the lookout for any information pertaining to confirmation of said tour. And last week the same paper confirmed the story and even gave a date and a venue. GLORY BE! Life is good!

But not for long.

I then realised I was entering stage 1 of the Bon Jovi concert preparations - securing the best tickets possible. Stage 1 is not fun. No one enjoys this stage. But it must be done. Stage 1 back in 2007 nearly caused my parents, brother, sister in law, co-workers, the telstra network and possibly the group of people I was training, a nervous breakdown.

I've done my research and there are three dates I can get tickets:

First chance tomorrow - these are the pre-pre-sale tickets for members of the Bon Jovi fan club (member since 1983*). The tickets include the elusive VIP concert package tours which include food, drinks, and *dances in joy* a front row seat. Sweeeet. Ever since I was second row back in 2002 and got sweated on, all I want is front row and the chance that there could be contact. Any sort of contact - I'd be happy to touch his shoe (ala Keith Urban 2009 - still talking about that concert). Front row ticket – want, want, want!

Second chance next Wednesday - these are the pre-sale tickets for visa card members. These also include packages, but not sure what sort yet and if there will be the front row packages. These tickets are obtained via a website but this is a highly volatile site and seems to crash if more than three people logon at once.

Third and final chance is the Wednesday after next – these are the tickets on sale to the general public. Do not want to have to get to this level of desperation. Refuse to sit in row ZZZ. REFUSE!

So tomorrow is the first chance to lay my hands on the golden ticket. Cross fingers. Cross everything. If you hear a scream around 9am, Thursday 24^th June 2010, please say a prayer for me that it’s a happy one :-)

*only really a member since 2008. In my head though I’ve been a member since 1983 so I think that counts.

Which one is not like the other?

As an addendum to my last blog about the great car parking debacle of 2010 - I've just found out we have access to a "Carpark Cam" on our computers. You can basically login and see how busy the exits are before you go to the carpark. This seemed excessive to me - how much could it possibly be backed up? Since then I have been told some horror stories of being stuck for AN HOUR AND A HALF in the line to exit the carpark. Note to self: look into the bus timetable.

So now on to some more of the minor/major differences between the new and the old:

Food at the old workplace:

A salad from Coles at Fairfield Gardens. If feeling adventurous, venture to Buranda Shopping Centre for Pizza Capers. If Michelle had her way - Montezuma's and whipped beans every day until we die.

Food at the new workplace:

Choices, choices! Sushi, pizza, subway, crepes, sandwiches, roasts, soup, wraps, hot chips, salads and more. All conveniently located within about 2 minutes from my desk (some very conveniently located next door to my desk). For afternoon tea: cakes, slices, biscuits, chips, chocolates (seriously I've never seen so much chocolate in my life and I've been to the Cadbury Factory). All this is not very convenient for my waistline however -- probably be better to go back to old workplace options. Although the time spent walking around looking for my car in the carpark helps with this.

Doors, windows and fresh air at the old workplace:

Doors left open to let the fresh air in. Windows that looked out over the horses grazing in the horse paddocks (or that looked out over the back of Rickland's head) and let in the natural light. Most of all - FRESH AIR!

Doors, windows and fresh air at the new workplace:
No windows or windows that look out to other rooms with no windows. No doors to open to the outside (well that I can see - obviously there is at least one or we'd all be stuck in the building forever ala that Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode). Very bright fluoro lights that give you a headache before 9.30am. As a hater of the great outdoors who would have thunk one of the things I'd miss the most would be fresh air and sunlight? Not me in a million years (I can hear Michelle fainting from the shock). I actually have to get up every couple of hours, go to the front entrance and get some fresh air. I stand outside taking deep breaths with all the patients who are in their PJ's and attached to IV's, smoking away. They all eye me nervously in case I tell them to put out the ciggy and get back to bed.

People v Animals v "the kids" at the old workplace:

Animals pretty much outnumbered the people. I liked this. Although if the animals ever did organise some sort of meeting and banded together to take over the place we would have been in trouble. The people that were there either didn't have kids or didn't really talk about them (they knew it was a lost cause for the most part). I also liked this.

People v Animals v "the kids" at the old workplace:

People everyone. No animals except for the occasional pigeon flying overhead (probably looking for it's car in the car park). I do not like this. And kids....everyone has got 'em and everyone talks about 'em. I have started talking about my cats as though there were actual human children which seems to confuse and frighten everyone:

Co-worker: "I'm tired, I couldn't get the kids to bed last night and then they kept waking up..."

Me: "Me too. Mine just wouldn't settle last night and then started chasing each other around the house"

Co-worker: "Wow....yeah it's hard isn't it? Then they don't want to get up the next morning..."

Me: "Totally - especially when you get up and step in one of their fur-balls"

Co-worker: "Err....your kids have fur-balls?"

Me: "Yes of course. I have three furry kids. They're gonna get fur-balls!"

Co-worker: *Silence* "Bye - I'm just going off to make a coffee."

And the worst/scariest thing about kids at the new workplace is something I discovered a few days ago. If you venture outside at 1 minute past three there are literally HUNDREDS of them, swarming down the hill from their school, screeching at each other, talking about Justin Beiber and Twilight. Okay yes I know I talk about Twilight as well, but it was still terrifying seeing them all come towards you at a semi-run, chanting pre-teen things and wearing the same outfit. Children of the Corn anyone?

The Fast and the Furious

So...I've been in my new place of work for the past two weeks and I thought I'd highlight one of the differences between my old work place and my new one:

Old workplace parking:

Free parking on streets outside. Have tantrum if have to park and walk more than five steps to the front gate. Circle block hoping someone parked closer will leave. Give up and park illegally, but triumphant only have to walk two steps to the front gate.

New workplace parking:

Three car parks, numerous levels and about six hundred billion car spots that all look identical.

I'm terrified of parking my car and never being able to find it again. So (very cleverly) I decided to always park in the same car park (the smallest one and away from the others), same level, around the same parking spot. As I start work at 8.30 each day this is quite easy to do. Then the day came that I needed to start late and finish late. As I was driving in I remembered hearing that my regular car park can fill up quickly in the morning and be full by 9.15.

Problem - I would have to park in one of the other (bigger) car parks. "Stop worrying" I thought. "It'll be fine!". Famous last words.

I drove into one of the entrances to one of the car parks, did one lap, then had the option to go to the next level OR go to the same level on the western car park, which looked as though I would be going into another parking structure entirely. So to be safe I continued up, doing laps, and trying to find an empty spot - FAIL! In a moment of panic I made the choice to go over to the west side. Bad Move. Still no vacant spots and by now I was completely disorientated (and dizzy). I did a few more laps, haphazardly going from east to west and at one point thought I was just doing circles of the same level. I was sure I kept seeing the same white Honda who had left their lights on. I wondered if I should tell someone about the lights left on, but quickly realised I had no time to worry about their battery -I had problems of my own.

When I finally saw daylight and realised I must be nearing the top, a few vacant spots started to appear and my panic started to subside. I finally screeched into one and sauntered nonchalantly to the lifts. By this stage I was a trifle worried that I would never see my beloved car again, so I took a photo of the sign by the lift - I thought if all else failed I could show it to someone and they might have a clue where it was:

So I hopped into the lift and luckily someone else (who looked like they'd done this before) got in with me and hit the button for 4 (this wouldn't have been my first guess - I would have tried ground). The doors opened at level four......and we were in another car park. Super. Again I stalked the person who had got in the lift with me and followed him along a yellow cement road (I'm assuming out of the two of us I was the one with no brains) and finally came to a walkway to the hospital building. Hallelujah! By this stage I got all confident and overtook the person I'd been following, but then realised I still didn't know if I was in the right building or what level I was on. FAIL!

Anyway, I finally worked it out after taking a few more lifts, stairs and walkways. Now to get back......the end of the day came and I actually did okay in finding my car. I only had to refer to my phone once to remember the level I was on. The best part was when someone asked me for directions in the middle of the car park - god knows where he ended up.

No more deviation from the plan.

PS. During my laps down the car park on the way home that white Honda that had left it's lights on was still there. Hood popped and waiting for RACQ I assume. And yeah, I did feel really bad.