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Interview late April 2005

I was interviewed recently for a local publication. Here are some of the questions and answers from that interview.

What do you like best about working at where you work?

The amazingly creative, intelligent people. If this place where a power factory, we could light up the city of Sydney with the thought power in this building alone!

As a child, what job did you think you would have when you grew up?

Well when I was three, I really wanted to be a go-go dancer because of the white boots they wore. Then my cousin pointed out that most of them danced in cages and thankfully that turned me off the whole go-go dancing dream. I then wanted to wanted to become a writer, a marine biologist, a journalist or work for ASIO.

What is your dream job?

Writing an opinion column in a major newspaper.

What do you like to do in your spare time?

Oh many many many things. Lately I've taken up photography. I've taken photos of flowers and birds and a cemetary. I enjoy writing and blogging. And generally just being with good friends and drinking wine!

If you could choose any 3 people, dead or alive, to invite to a dinner party, who would they be and why?

If by "dinner party" you mean "poker game", then I would invite:

Jack Kerouac, because On the Road is one of my all time favourite books, which he submitted handwritten to his publisher and on a single long piece of paper.

Hunter S Thomson, because there will never be another writer like him. He was biting, insightful, comic and just a little bit crazy.

Hawkeye from Mash, so he can bring his homemade gin!

Describe your perfect day/evening…

Sleep in past 7am without having to get up and strangle my delightful, but loud, cockatiel.

Breakfast with friends at Pavillion cafe in maroubra, walk out into the car park to find that some wonderful stranger has randomly washed my car and left it sparkling in the sun, then finding $50 in an old jacket that I haven't worn for ages, going to an outdoor music festival in the afternoon and drinking wine, a singing lesson where I hit every note and a standing ovation at Karaoke!

If a movie were being made about your life, who would you choose to play you? Why?

Martha Plummer because of her "Hunny-Bunny" scene in Pulp Fiction.

What is your favourite colour?

Blue.

If you could date anyone famous, who would it be?

Hunter S Thomson. I don't think it would last long. And I'm sure it would be mostly painful . But it would be an adventure I'd never forget!

What motto do you live by?

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may!

Cheridan (n) Man who speaks of his own vomiting.

How a child should be named:

Husband: (nursing newborn at his wife's side) This is a baby with a future! We need to name her accordingly!

Wife: (Looks at newborn adoringly) She needs a name that is strong, that will carry her through thick and thin! One that commands respect! One that she can be proud of!

Husband: I agree!

and then they name their baby.

How I was named:

Dad: (Watching the Sunday night movie) This is a good movie! The Man Who Came to Dinner! Who would have thought such a horrible individual existed! But his name is Sheridan...

Mum: Yes, he was an extremely annoying man. He came to dinner and stayed 6 weeks, and in that time managed to insult all of his hosts. And his first line in the movie is "I think I may vomit!" But what a great name! ESPECIALLY for our first born daughter...

So I came to be. Named after a horrible, despicable individual in a movie, who has absolutely no redeeming qualities, and who speaks about his own vomiting. To others.

ergo:

Cheridan (n) Man who talks about vomiting.

And just to sink the boot in, they decided to change the FIRST LETTER of my name. I have to wait in line longer than the rest of the world, while they find my name (which should begin with a "S" in the "C" compartment.

But I no complain.

When I was at Uni. I worked for Coles as a checkout chick. I can chew gum with the rest of them, baby!

And I had this guy who used to come through my checkout and talk to me. And one day he said:-

Guy: hey Cheridan! Did you know your name means CHIEFTAIN!

Self: Really? Cool!

And i was so like YEAAHH BOY! My NAME MEANS something OTHER than "man who talks about vomiting". And I am so happy, I probably do that special little funky dance reserved for Fridays. Probably.

And so for years, All the other Sheridans (note the "S" - I've never met another Cheridan) that I met I'm Like DO YOU KNOW WHAT OUR NAME MEANS? WE are like Cheftains! We ROCK! And it gets around.

So for years, I'm toddling along happy in my delusions that my name means something other than "Man who talks about vomiting" , and I am proud of it, boy am I proud.

Until one day, about 3 weeks ago.

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine who is into celtic mythology. And we're chatting and I proudly say:-

Self: (proclaiming proudly) My name means "Cheftain"! I am so da boss! I am in da house! (ok I may have made up those last two sentences. I dont think I've ever used the word 'da' outloud in any context. But in writing I am so hip and with it! 'Sup!)

Friend: I think you'll find you're wrong.

So we have this great debate, fuelled by red wine, and we venture back to the old Yahoo!  Search.

And I am wrong. Totally wrong.

Not only does it totally not mean "Cheftain" it means something worse way worse.

Sheridan: the Untamed man

The untamed man: Sheridan from the movie "the man who came to dinner" who's first line is:

 "I think i'm going to vomit."

Cheridan = the man who talks about vomiting.

Everybody Hurts

(When the day is long)

So I've been taking singing lessons for a while. A year to be exact. Any while my singing teacher has said he "WOULDN'T CALL MY VOICE SHRILL", obviously it's gotten better as I've taken the lessons.

(And the night, the night is yours alone...)

And the drill is now I choose a song I want to learn, we sing it at singing (well DUH) and then I practise it at home for the rest of the week.  And I've done this for many many many songs.

(When you think you've had to much of this life)

Countless songs. And i practice usually on a Saturday. I do my Saturday chores. I put on my stero.

AND I SING. Do I SING!

(Well hold on.)

So this particular Saturday morning. I am home alone. In my pyjamas.  And I put the CD on. The song of this week is of course, Everybody Hurts, by REM.

So - thus far.

1. It is Saturday

2. I am in my pyjamas

3. Michael Stipe is bleeting about how Everybody Hurts on the stereo.

4. I am singing along.

(Don't let yourself go)

Here I pause. So humiliating is the next bit. So very embarrassing.

I am tidying up. I walk into the loungeroom. With a hairbrush in my hand.

And...I start SINGING into my hair brush. So intent am I on being pitch-perfect and musically correct, that I do not notice my NEIGHBOUR walking down my driveway. And up my front STEPS to MY FRONT DOOR,

(Coz Everybody cries.)

The reason I do not notice him staring in horror at me from the front door, his neighbourly gift of homemade Grappa forgotten,  is this:

I HAVE MY EYES CLOSED AND I AM SINGING PASSIONATELY INTO A HAIRBRUSH.

Did I mention that I am also 29 YEARS OLD??

(Everybody hurts. Sometimes)

How to Piss off Your Developer

This from an incredibly funny Y! IM conversation I had the other day with a friend who's a programming wizz and hates clients as much as I do (or at least pretends to for my sake ) :D.

1. Have absolutely no concept of what you want.

2. Be indecisive on what your want.

3. Blame the developer for not conveying your fucked up idea.

4. Sign off spec documentation, go through the entire development cycle without changing a thing, and then the week before the thing's about to launch, change your FUCKING mind.

5. Ask for as many MOVING parts on your site as possible. Users LOVE to wait for pages to load.

6. Incorporate as many popups as you can into your site vision.

7. Have loud music playing straight away and disallow ANY form of mute button.

8. When you take ownership of your site, be sure NOT TO use our css's or style guides. We just put them in there for the fun of it. YES. Your site will look much better with 20 different font styles and a million different image sizes.  We love putting hours of work in only to have clients FUCK IT UP.

Feel free to add your own!

The one where I do 3 stupid things in 3 stupid days

So I went to a conference in Noosa, Queensland for work last week (hard life I know). It was amazing and play far outweighed the actual work we went up there to do. At least 40C and staying in a 5 star hotel room (albeit sharing with my boss, but she's cool :) )

None of you you who know me will be surprised by what I am about to tell you, and those of you who don't - well maybe this will teach you to keep your distance... this is the entry where I do ..

...3 stupid things in 3 stupid days...

1st stupid thing - I MISS a plane...

Tuesday (hot and dry) night I had washed every article of clothing I wanted to take with me and left them on the clothes line to dry. So when i woke on Wednesday morning and it was raining very heavily, I dashed downstairs, got all my wet clothes off the line and strategically hung them around the house in the draughts to try and get them dry.

Ok, ordinarily, it wouldn' t be the End Of The World missing a plane, but this was for work, and a conference, and I live close to the airport. But this particular Wednesday afternoon whichever deity looks over Sydney decided to OPEN THE HEAVENS and dump MILLIONS of litres of water on the city. And THUNDER. And LIGHTNING. And WIND. AND HAIL. All on Sydney. The day I am supposed to drive a million miles back to my house and catch a taxi to the airport.

So I get home, my clothes are STILL WET. I bundle them into my overnight bag, and call a cab.

20 mins before  need to be at the airport, still no cab! I'm calling my boss, and EVERYONE is at the airport happily waiting to board the plane apart from me! So i jump in my little black beast and TEAR down the road to the airport, talking to my boss the whole way on my mobile.

And I get there three mins after boarding for the flight has closed. And they won't let me on.

But I have to present myself to the service desk. So I fly my car into a multistory carpark (uh oh - can you see where this is heading,) RUN into the terminal and wait while every person in front of me who has also missed the plane argues fruitlessly about being let onto the plane.

Finally i get to change my flight, and I leave to terminal to walk to my car..

Uh... err.. where did I park the FUCKER.

So I walked around the THREE HUGE FUCKOFF CARPARKS for like, 45 mins until I find my car.

2nd stupid thing - I FLOOD a hotel room...

So I'm up at Noosa. It's tropical and beautiful and hot as hell.

And on the second afternoon I've had enough of laying on the beach, and enough of laying by the pool, and I decide to  partake of a spa. Because I've just bought this new book, all about the rise and fall of Pope Alexander in the 1400s and it's really interesting.

And how good would it be to have a cool spa, right? with a good book?

What could possibly go wrong?

Right? Right?

So I'm in the spa (reading reading, drinky drinky, reading reading, la la la la la) and after about an hour and a half I am totally prunelike from the water, the glass of champagne's gone, and I'm thinking..  oh let's cap off a great afternoon by getting out of the spa, getting dried and dressed and going down for a late afternoon cocktail in the sun.

Sounds, devine, right?

Well. The spa is still going and I can't figure out HOW TO TURN THE FUCKER OFF! Sure - there's instructions to turn it ON, but where are the instructions to turn it OFF?

So I think to myself, "Self, this must be a SENSOR SPA. If you PULL OUT THE PLUG when the water gets to a certain level it will turn OFF!

And then I congratulate myself. Because SELF, I am a GENIUS!

Only I am wrong. Horribly wrong.

The spa is not a sensor. And do you know what HAPPENS when a spa has it's jets on WHILE the water level is going down? Do you? Do you?

No?

You create veritable FOUNTAIN! Right in the BATHROOM! You create a fountain so HIGH it hits the ROOF!

Only I don't know that yet. Because I have put a towel around me, run into the bedroom and am calling room service.

This is the conversation:

SELF: Umm. Ok. How do you turn off the spa.

ROOM SERVICE: (thinking: Well DUH) You pressed the same button that turns it ON

SELF: Oh!!! Thank you!

And then I hear it. Like distant thunder. The sound of my spa fountain hitting the ROOF of the BATHOOM.

SELF: I have to go now. Byeee!

So I go into the bathroom, and the fucker is COVERED in water. And I am sharing this hotel room with my BOSS, in case you forgot.

So, I grab all the towels out of the room and throw them down where the carpet meets the tiles, call room service back. They say they're sending one right up. And they mean RIGHT UP.

So I'm standing NAKED amongst the WASH of this bathroom because all the towels are protecting the carpet and not two seconds later, the door opens, and this little guy walks in with his trolley. Rember I am NAKED!

And he apologises profusely and goes about cleaning up the bathroom. And I run to my clothes and get dressed. And all is good.

But I can hear him LAUGHING in the bathroom as he's cleaning.

Next up... I have to tell my boss what I have done...

Cheers

T

xx

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