Mark Twain on the Melbourne Cup:

“Cup Day is supreme, it has no rival. In America we have no annual supreme day, no day whose approach makes the whole nation glad…the Cup astonishes me.”

The Guardian on the Melbourne Cup favourite:

The Aidan O’Brien-trained runner has been market leader for “the race that stops a nation” since the weights were announced but was only just clinging on to favouritism last night after another dry day in that part of New South Wales state in Australia.

Ah yes, the great city of Melbourne in the state of New South Wales. As opposed to the other, less great one in Victoria. All the people who turn up at Flemington are going to be pretty peeved when they find out they’ve gone to the wrong city, aren’t they? I mean, how stupid would you feel? Especially after having dressed up!

Sheesh, I seriously need to work as sports journalist for the Guardian. I’d accurately locate major(ish) world cities and everything.

I like Mark Twain’s quote, though. Those three minutes or so when streets are eerily deserted and everything stops. The buzz of anticipation. I’ve had my usual minor bet on the race - having backed the winner 4 out of the last 5 years (*looks smug*) I’m still in profit. Admittedly 3 of those years I backed Makybe Diva, and the only reason I did that was a random draw in a work sweep the first year, but is anything really random? I think not. Skill, people. Skill.

(And I have my computer back - new motherboard, no awkward questions regarding hot chocolate spillage asked. Yay. But you probably guessed that, with the update and all.)

ETA: Noooo! Third (C’est La Guerre. That’s the name of the horse, not the reason I didn’t back the winner). Darn it, I must be losing my touch…

Most. Stressful. Day. Ever. In Beth’s words, “this dreary, drizzly, morose city can kiss my plane’s shiny metal ass”.

That is all.

When did I accumulate so much crap? I arrived two and a half years ago with a backpack and a stupid little trolley thing that carried my books; it was a bit like an annoying puppy that twisted around on its leash trying to escape as I pulled it along mercilessly (my sister said it was like a disobedient dalek). Today I bought a cheapo suitcase ($10 at Dimmies in Richmond) to replace the disobedient dalek, which is about twice its size. And still, having filled my backpack, the new suitcase and my hand luggage, I have copious amounts of crap in boxes around my room.

This is where my mum would come in handy. She has the most amazing organizing and multi-tasking capabilities, and would have everything sorted in a few hours. When my mother is in organizing mode, an army somewhere is missing its general. My preferred mode of operation, however, is to sit surrounded by all the boxes of crap and cry. Which is less effective, but also less effort.

I wish Mary Poppins were here, to do that thing where she points to stuff and it organizes itself (I wish that a lot; it’s got to be in my top five wishes).

On a cheerier note, I forgot to mention the best thing about my trip to LA: I leave New Zealand AFTER I arrive in Los Angeles! The flight goes via Auckland, you see, and we leave there at 5 p.m. on Monday, then arrive in LA at 12 p.m. THE SAME DAY! It’s sort of like time travel! I get to be in two places at the same time! I’m so excited I can’t stop using exclamation marks. Oh wait, I can, but it was an effort.

If I can do that (the being in two places at once) surely I can organize the boxes of crap before then. Right?

I went out for a drink on Sunday evening to celebrate the smoking ban that came into force in Victoria on 1 July (and in England the same day, too). T’was quite a strange experience: a friend and I walked into a local pub which is usually filled with smoke, but this time while no one was smoking, there was an underlying stale, musty, smoky smell lingering in the air and clinging to the furniture. A Kiwi friend told me that when they banned smoking in pubs in New Zealand, they all had to re-carpet and re-paint to get rid of the cigarette smell that no one had noticed when smoking was allowed. I can see bars having to do the same thing here, too; it made the pub seem quite dingy and run-down.

Still, smoking ban unequivocally a good thing, I think. It was unbelievably nice to go to a pub and not to automatically look around for the least smoky area to sit, or to have to wash my hair and clothes on getting home. I’m used to being the annoying one in a group who asks if we can move to a less smoky part of the pub, and ducks out now and then for a breath of fresh air. Now, it’s like all the bars in town have suddenly opened their doors to me! Which makes me very happy. Hmmm, I can see this could be dangerous. I had an argument a few weeks ago with a friend who said that smoking shouldn’t be banned because it’s a traditional part of the atmosphere in pubs, to which I said that in that case, he has to be prepared to argue equally vehemently in favour of the smoking ban once clean air becomes a traditional part of going out for a drink. I suspect that in a short while, it’ll be difficult to believe that smoking was ever permitted in bars and clubs.

In other news, I’ve booked a flight to the UK leaving a week today, with four nights in Los Angeles on the way there. Sun, beaches, Disneyland, Hollywood, and Jim Carrey, hopefully (who is my newest bizarre celebrity crush, after I rewatched ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ last week. Not many films are absolutely definitely in my all time top ten, but that’s one of them). On the radio the other day they said that “Melburnians are heading into their first real winter for seven years”, which was enough to convince me that I’m due a trip to the northern hemisphere. I’m going to move out of my current house and put my stuff in storage while I’m away, so I have an unbelievable amount to do before next week, and I’m not quite sure where to start. It’s still a bit surreal at the moment. Normally I start packing the night before, but that’s not really going to work this time.

Righto, well I’m off to watch Scrubs (what’s with the stupid 11.30 pm time slot, anyway?).

‘FREE PARIS’ T-shirts! Well I guess they worked, briefly…