rainbowtatt

How effing cathartic is it to cry? As in, cry properly?

While it sucks that there’s a need to cry, it does wonders when you let it all out—snot and all.

Mine’s been brought on by a series of bad things, some more trivial than others. Each I could manage on their own, but when they snowball, then I struggle to keep above it all.

Above all this, I know things will get better. Soon.

This weheartit-style post is brought to you by my hormones. Normal blogging will return shortly. Promise.

Tomorrow night I’m starting a five-week beginner’s yoga class with Black Lotus Studios. I’ve bought a stack of new clothes that will hopefully be appropriate to wear (no camel toes or wedgies to be found)

I’m really looking forward to going, and hoping that it gives me a real chance to wind down (and get flexible at the same time).

But I’m a bit worried that this story may turn into a reality:

For this week’s My Place & Yours. Pretty self-explanatory!

Cupcake/macaroon handbag from Pretty in Pink. Roxy glasses from SpecSavers. Makeup/Advil stripey bag by littlepinkpins on Etsy. Annnnd, there’s my phone, Logitech earbuds, wallet, sunnies and a fundraising Freddo.

This kinda reminds me of those days in high school when we’d look in each other’s wallets. Did you guys do that too?

I think most inner-westies know about the Olympia Milk Bar. It’s on Parramatta Road, Stanmore and hasn’t changed in the last 40+ years.

Seriously.

It’s famous for the retro decor (and all the old posters and boxes of old chocolates and soft drinks), but also famous for the scary guy who owns the joint. He’s got the nickname Mr Death and even though I’d never been in the shop before, I was already scared of him.

Dan went in YEARS ago (as in, 10+ years ago) and ordered a milkshake. He got yelled at by “Mr Death” because he dared to ask for more milk in his milkshake. And he didn’t go back… until last weekend.

You don’t go to the Olympia Milk Bar for fast service. It took a while, but eventually we were able to order two milkshakes ($2.80 each) and enjoy the interior while we waited.

I’ve done some googling and you can get coffee and tea here. But no cappuccino. He doesn’t “do” that fancy stuff.

Fair enough!

The milkshake turns up in a banged up metal/aluminium/whatever glass and while not the most flavoursome milkshake, it’s well worth it for the nostalgia.

Like Dan remembered from ten years ago, the glass was only about half full, but I managed to stop him from going up  to ask for more milk ;)

To be honest, I don’t know why people are scared of this old guy running the shop. He was polite enough to us and even smiled at one point!

Didn’t stop me from freaking out when I realised he saw that I was taking photos!!

Olympia Milk Bar 190 Parramatta Road, Stanmore

I’m not very good at arguing about politics. Which is a shame since my Pop was part of the creation of the DLP (scroll down and check out the guy sat right in the middle of the front row). And he was a good arguer.

Is that even a word?

I’m what you’d call a leftie and go with my gut instinct when it comes to the basics of my political beliefs, with big helpings of advice and info from like-minded family and friends.

And infographics like this, which I have shamefully stolen from Elizabeth (click for full-size image that doesn’t throw out my beautiful WP theme):

I haven’t entirely decided which way I’ll vote on Saturday in terms of where I want my preferences to go, but it might have to wait until I talk to our local Greens/independent/Sex Party reps when I turn up at the polling booth on Saturday (I’ve NEVER spoken to those nutjobs outside the school hall on election day, and TBH I’m a bit scared about it).

On Saturday we went to our first gallery exhibition opening.

I have quite an arty group of friends and future in-laws, but have never been to such a shindig before.

It was fun! There were cupcakes and glasses of champagne and Van’s jewellery to admire:

I’m a tad biased about Van’s work, though. Not only is she a future in-law, but she created my engagement ring, and is designing our wedding bands on Wednesday night.

Wednesday night!

But I’m really writing to show you this:

Yup, that’s a donut.

A half-eaten one.

And it’s made of concrete.

It’s by Will Coles, a guy whose art we’re VERY familiar with. We find his stuff around our neighbourhood.

We found another exhibition, right near Van’s, and it happened to be Will. WOO!

His stuff is what I suppose you’d call contemporary? Maybe one of my artist friends can help me…

We’re more familiar with Will’s concrete TVs, remote controls and mobile phones that get bolted to telegraph poles and footpaths… but we saw the donut and bought it on the spot. Our first real piece of art.

(Who said we’re supposed to save our pennies for the wedding?)

The gallery curator suggested we use it as a paperweight, but surely there are other uses that we haven’t thought of?

If nothing else, we can use it as a dust collector ;)

This is my (long-winded) bit for this week’s My Place & Yours :)

Today, a friend came up and asked

“Hey, did you know someone’s written on your car?”

Ummm, I’d kinda forgotten that Dan had woven his magic on the weekend (click the pic for bigger):

I didn’t realise how visible it was.

And it was visible.

I drove to work in that.

Before I knew it, someone else came up to me and commented on it and I bolted out into the company carpark – bottle of water and box of tissues in hand – and I “resolved the issue”.

Cause there were big wigs visiting today, and they probably saw it before I washed it off.

(I’m telling myself they didn’t see it, though)

At least it meant I was able to drive home again tonight with at least some of my dignity.

Dan and I are still laughing about it, though.

Sure, Mrs Beckinsale made this for her fair goddaughter:

But I’m telling myself that it’s for *me*.

Is it not perfect??

I’m only putting up a small pic, so you mightn’t be able to tell, but it’s even got “Laura” sewn onto the cupcake.

Major props to Liz for putting this in my Google Reader list for me!

This week’s Noice-ities is a piece of cake. I drove out west to become Eliza’s godmother.

Henceforth known as her Fairygodmother:

How lucky am I to get to be fairygodmother to the most adorable kid I know (except her two big sisters, of course).

Now I just have to learn how to be a Fairygodmother. I left a set of fairy wings on the farm for her to wear, so that’s a good start, right?

Executive summary:

1. Jump up and down and make a lot of noise in Vodafone’s direction (contact their support line (1300 650 410), their Twitter account (@VodafoneAU_help) and fax their complaints line (03 6210 3362)
2. When you manage to connect with a human, try to act at least a bit nice and understand that ruining their day by acting like an asshat isn’t going to make them want to help you
3. Tell them what your complaint is and what workarounds you’ve undertaken to attempt to solve the issue yourself (also proving that you’re not a muppet when it comes to tech). If you think it breaches terms of the contract, explain it. Mention that you know that you have the right to contact the Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman (TIO) if the issue isn’t resolved satisfactorily
4. Use the word “unacceptable”. It’s always worked well for me
5. Tell them what you want to happen to resolve the issue, and give justification for it
6. At least try to be fair in the negotiation if they want to, say, make you give back your iPhone in return for cancelling the contract
7. Regardless of the outcome, be appreciative to your support person (a.k.a. don’t shoot the messenger) and thank them for their efforts

Full story:

For most of the last 10-15 years, I was a happy Vodafone customer. Until I got an iPhone 3GS in January this year on a 2-year contract.

iPhone + Vodafone = optional coverage, phone call connectivity and voicemail delivery.

In June, my car battery died, at home, causing the alarm to SCREAM INCESSANTLY AT ME THAT THE BATTERY HAD DIED. For 10 minutes, while sat in an area claiming to have full phone reception, I was unable to make a single call. It would either refuse to make the call, or would dropout.

Then, in July, while mum was still in hospital, I had a voicemail message that wasn’t delivered for three days. Turned out that it was a known issue and Vodafone had sent a notification text to every customer except me to tell me about the problem.

For a few months now I have been very open about my dream to ditch Vodafone and get an HTC Desire from Telstra. I’d  had enough of being Apple’s lapdog, too, because I knew my phone issues were just as much Apple’s fault as Vodafone’s. But to break my contract 16 months early was going to cost me over $1,000 under their Early Exit Fee clause, and I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was stuck.

But Thursday morning was the last straw when 3G coverage was non-existent for several hours. I didn’t even get a text message that had been sent to me the night before. Fired up, I sat on hold to Vodafone support for EIGHTY MINUTES and gave up in frustration. I send DMs to their Twitter support account and sent a dirty fax to their complaints department:

I heard back from Kirsty from Vodafone’s support Twitter account and I have to tell you, this woman is a superstar. I emailed her all the workarounds that failed me (I hate being told by support staff to turn off 3G on my iPhone like I have NO IDEA how to do these things). I told her what my beef was and I told her what outcome I wanted:

Here’s where Kirsty earns her superstar rating: within 2 hours, Kirsty had agreed and processed the cancellation of my contract – 16 months early – without charing me the Early Exit Fee. All I have to do is return my iPhone next week.

Amazing. That should have cost me almost $1,100.

If the rest of Vodafone worked as well as Kirsty, then I’d still be with them.

But I’m with Telstra now, with my HTC Desire. I have no idea how to use the Desire yet, but I’m working on it.

I still can’t quite believe that I actually got to break my contract for free!

Have you had success with breaking a contract with a mobile phone provider? How did you manage it?