why did you lock the door??

I don’t want to distract you from continuing to view my previous post [over and over], but I must inform you about my morning.

I woke up after snoozing once [which was actually very upsetting because I’m currently trying to start “no-snooze” wake-ups].  Anywho, I put on some decent nanny pajamas and head to the bathroom before waking the kids up.  Now over here in Australia, most toliets are in there own room and then there’s another room for washing… they call it the wash room, for reasons I cannot comprehend.  So most toilet rooms are pretty small… ours is about 4 foot by 3 foot… I don’t know… it’s a really, really small room.

So I do my business, stand up, open the door… ohp, no, no… wait… I didn’t open the door, because the door wouldn’t open!

– Seriously?  I’m locked in the bathroom??

Marc, the dad, was gone off to work already and I was pretty sure no one else was awake.  So I locked the door, unlocked the door, tried to push the handle down again, tried again, tried again.

– I’m never going to get out of here.

– Raaaach?  Are you okay?

– Hazel!  I’m stuck in the bathroom!

– What??

– I can’t get out… Something’s wrong with the handle.

[laughing ensues on both sides of the door.]

– Seriously, I’m locked in the bathroom.

– I’ll go get a credit card or something.

So then Hazel slides the card under the door and I try, to no avail, to get the door open.  Oh, man.  Hazel and I laugh more and try to figure things until the mood suddenly changes…


– Yes, Barbara!  I can’t get out!  [laughing.]

– Well, this is serious!  Oh, no this is bad.  I don’t know what to do!

– It’ll be okay.  Are there ary screws on your side on the handle?

– No!  Oh, no!  This is horrible!

– Yeah, mine either.  Can you try to bust the door in?  Or can I try?  Maybe can I try to force the handle??  It might break.


– [hahahaha] I didn’t!

[by this point I can tell that Hazel has walked off because her mom is flipping out.]


– Okay, yeah.  I think that’s a good idea.


– Barbara, I did not lock the door.  I just went to the bathroom like I normally do… except I normally leave afterwards.

[she’s already heading downstairs to call Marc.]

– Hazzzeeeeeeel!  [I yell from my new torture chamber.]

– Yeaaah??

– Will you go wake up Craig and help him get ready?  Oh, and go in my room and bring me any thin reading material you can find.

– Okay!

Barbara frantically comes to the door to tell me that Marc’s coming back but won’t be here for another half hour.  She’s very panicked about the whole ordeal and I just can’t help laughing at the fact that I am locked in a windowless room that is built to hold only a toilet and an average sized person.


I just start ignoring Barbara, which is a funny thing to do… because she knows I can hear her… it’s not like I went anywhere.

Then I continue to try and use the plastic card Hazel gave me to open the door.  I don’t understand how I could break into the Mountain Men’s apartment flawlessly with my school ID all through college for things like DVDs or cookies, but now I couldn’t break out of a bathroom to save my life.

So I sit on the toilet [seat down] for about a half hour before Marc gets back and tells me…

– Step back!  Make sure you’re back!!  Are you all the way to the back of the room?!?

I look around, look to the door, make an assessment, then swing my legs to one side of the toilet so I’m now sitting sideways…

– Yep, I’m back.

Marc kicked the door in and I was FREE!!  And it, somehow, didn’t even damage the door.

What an interesting morning.

My favorite part of the whole ordeal was Craig’s many questions throughout the morning…

– [downstairs eating breakfast] Why is Dad here?

– [looking at the bathroom door that has a note reading “DON’T USE!”] Why can’t we use the toilet?

– [on the way to school]  Are we late?  Why are we late?

All answered with…

– Craig, I was locked in the loo this morning.  Don’t you remember that??  I couldn’t get out?… Your dad had to come home and bust open the door?… Nothing?…. No?…. Really??

[it’s science].

Tonight I went and saw Milk in an amazing, old theater in the Newtown part of the city [a very trendy spot].  The cinema sold beer and wine and ice cream cones.  I sat as the theater went dark, with both hands holding my ice cream cone and my IPA in the cup holder beside me.  That instant was so exciting for me that I actually had to smile real big and put my shoulders up to contain my excitement without giggling out-loud… I can’t explain it; this happens to me every once in a while.

The movie was sold out, and for good reason.  It was a gorgeous film that I absolutely loved.  I think that everyone should see Milk. It is truly a message of hope, a theme that had the audacity to become quite popular in today’s world.  I won’t submerge into my opinion on the importance of your viewing this film, just know that I do recommend it to you.  I also very much enjoyed the clothes in the movie:



When a movie is sold out in Newtown, it means every seat.  So no one even knew that I was there by myself!  Well except for the two people sitting on either side of me… and I think they knew all too well.  I cried a lot in the movie.  [I cry a lot in many movies.]  I just found it incredibly inspiring and heart-pulling… aka: a lot of tears.   So then I turned into the girl who sees movies by herself, cries through the last third of it and forgets her tissues.  I think it was quite awkward for the people sitting next to me.  Oh well.

Why does your nose run when you cry?  All fluid must be frozen in your face.  And when your heart gets all riled up inside your chest, it warms… and the heat must rise [it’s science] to your face and melt the glaciers of tears and snot.  Thus releasing waterfalls that can gush at varying levels, but always revealing the renewal of spring.


This afternoon, I picked Craig up from school and headed towards home.  Hazel decided to take the train home… something about socializing… Craig wants nothing to do with that kind of stuff.

Anywho, Craig was pretty pooped from his big Monday school day.  Not even my rendition of “What’s Love Got to Do With It” could keep him awake.  Poor thing just curled up in a ball and drifted off in the passenger seat.  Most times of the day I wouldn’t mind if any of the Vincents drifted off and left me in silence, but I was in absolute rare form this afternoon.

After Craig was asleep for about one whole minute, I turned on this road where there were no cars.  As our car approached the stop sign, I slammed on the breaks and let out a hilarious/could-have-been-real scream, “AAAHHHHHH!!”  Craig SHOT up, eyes wider than ever as he gasped for his LIFE.  I had instantly cracked myself up and had to spend some extra time at the stop sign to recover… as well as to let Craig cool down…

– What the HELL is wrong with you!?

– [trying not to laugh.] Craig, don’t say “hell”…..  Oh man!  You should’ve seen your face!

– Ahhhh fuuuuuuuureaking jerk!  [as a smile starts to crack…]

– Oh, c’mon… I got you so good.  [smiling so wide, it hurts.]

– [starts full-out laughing.]  I saw a youtube like this with this really fat guy and it was really funny!

And I’m in the clear.  If it’s on youtube, Craig thinks it’s funny.  But soon after we started driving again, I began to feel real guilty.  I was thinking to myself, “Rachel, what ARE you doing??  He’s gonna tell his parents and then you’re going to get fired.  Not smart, Rach, not smart….”

– Oh mannn…… good times.  Hey, Craig, how bout we go out and get a treat?  You wanna go to the chocolate shop?

– Yeah!  Can we?

– Yeah, of course!  But hey, only if you don’t tell Hazel that we got chocolate without her, okay?

– Okay, I won’t.

– Yeah, okay and don’t tell your folks about the chocolate either… OR my prank… they probably wouldn’t like that.

– Okay, fine… Can I get TWO chocolate treats?

– Suuuuuuure!

So, yeah I bribed him with chocolate.  He didn’t say a word about the prank to the family.  Not about the chocolate either… like they would care.  We hid our left-over chocolate in the freezer and giggled as I reminded him, “Okay, not a peep about our FUN car ride home!”

Oh man, go ahead and put me in as a nomination for WORST NANNY 2009.  I’ll accept the award proudly.

i would put my kids in the sydney public school system… knock on wood.

I ride the train a lot around Sydney… and so do a lot of kids.  I have heard some ri-diculous conversations over the last couple weeks, but this one is my favorite thus far:

[two teenagers, a boy and a girl, in tank tops and neon board shorts.]

Boy: I just can’t stand Tonya.
Girl: Well, maybe she like, won’t be there… knock on wood.
Boy: What?… “Knock on wood”? What the hell does that mean?
Girl: You don’t know what “knock on wood” means?… You dumbass. It’s like one of those old sayings that like everyone knows.
Boy: Oh shut up. Just tell me what it means.
Girl: Well it means like, “never mind”… Like you say something that like you don’t really want to happen and then you say, “knock on wood”.
Boy: So you say stuff that you don’t mean and then say, “knock on wood”?
Girl: Yeah, exactly.
Boy: Like… You got a fat ass! Knock on wood!
Girl: Hey! You jerk!
Boy: I said, “knock on wood!”
Girl: Haha… yeah, okay.

little miss lipstick.

The other day I was walking with the Vincents into a drug store [here they call it the Chemist… weird].  While walking in, we saw a little girl who was about three years old with her mother.  The little girl had lipstick ALL over her face.  Well maybe not allll… but definitely covering most of the bottom half of her face.  It seemed that her mother had just discovered Little Miss Lipstick trying on some samples and was trying to hurry her out of the store.  The Vincents hurried in and avoided eye-contact.  I, on the other hand, think that stuff like this should be glorified and held in attention for as long as possible.  The mother saw that people were trying to avoid the situation…

Mother: “She did it herself!” …[she defensively yelled at no one specifically… as everyone kept pretending she didn’t exist.]
Me: “She looks beautiful.”
Mother: [surprised] “……..well, I think so.”

I just LOVED that.  “I think so.”  Whilst her daughter was giggling, happy as a clam, behind her.  So awesome.

my humble abode.

For all of those who wonder what my accommodations are like here in Australia…



…this is a very sad, very blank, view of my room.  I didn’t even think to pack things to decorate my walls.  I even left my dinosaur poster at home!  Sad days.  We are about to move houses, so no point in putting up anything now.

How bout this… If you send me something, anything, I’ll put it up on my wall.  As long as it’s not vulgar or horses.

Dan and Nic [Jackson Hole friends] have coined my living situation as looking Guantanamo Bay-ish.  Fair enough.  I’ll tell you what though… it’s not so much like a detention camp unless they make me go see Hotel For Dogs again… WORST MOVIE EVERRRRR.

Sean Hayes has a great song called “Guantanamo” and I think it’s on his myspace… but I couldn’t tell you that right now.  The internet isn’t working properly… It might get better once Hazel’s pirated copy of Twilight [the movie] finishes downloading.

Love from Guantanamo.