Your chance to win tickets to CORINBANK!

I was standing at the bus interchange, reading the poster with the entertainment line-up. There wasn’t one name I recognised. Perhaps I should win, so that I gain musical enlightenment!

I’d like to show my misses that Sydney is not the only f*cking place in the world!!!

Growing up in the mean streets of Tuggeranong, life has never been easy. My parents moved to Canberra in 1979. They left their respective small country towns in search of a better life. Unfortunately they decided to build their new life in the arse-end of Canberra. From there, a series of unfortunate events (each more unfortunate than the last) led to the altogether unwanted position of living in a one bedroom shack in the heartland of Fadden Pines.

In between having to deal with the morning joggers and the nightly drunk teenagers, I was forced to trek the arduous journey through Fadden, Gowrie and (shudder) Wanniassa to reach Canberra’s finest schooling establishment, Wanniassa High. One doesn’t truly appreciate their life until they have run a gauntlet of rat-tail filled streets each morning for several years. After leaving that hellish arena and the even less enviable establishment known as Erindale college (FOOTBALL!), I managed to snare a position at the ANU. After three laborious years, scraping by on the money I earned teaching rat-tailed youths that words are more powerful than red bull fuelled fistfights, I entered the workforce as a graduate in the APS. From there I fought my way through a year of morning teas, endless training courses, and SNoG events (past graduates will know what I’m talking about) to make it to where I am today – a mid-level APS employee.

I have not shared my story so that others will feel sorry for me. I have written it to inspire. To show other sad, sorry individuals living in the depths of North Cooma that even they can aspire to meet a Cabinet Minister at a departmental happy hour. It is because I have managed to get to where I am today, against all conceivable odds, that I will most appreciate being given the chance to celebrate my hard work, considerable effort and good fortune over a folksy weekend in the Brindabellas.

because I promise to – at exactly to the minute – to re-enact 2009’s stunning roshambo contest …. 4am. In the bar. c’mon guys. c’mon.

because we the willing led by the unknowing have been doing so much with so little for so long we are now qualified to do anything with nothing….
ok so not quite my words but I totally agree and love it!
more I guess as prices of everything goes up I find I’m able to get out less n less, as a mum.
thankyou for running this comp, this is the ONLY way I could afford this… don’t suppose you supply spending money!? Joking!! 🙂 thanks

I would love to go to Corinbank, if only once, but it’s always at the time where birthdays are a plenty and so I am broke. Mr. sezzle’s birthday is on the Friday and him being the musical type I’m sure would love the experience.

Well, it all started back in 1989. I was working as a legal clerk and David Eastman came to us asking for our help in defending him from some sort of trumped-up murder charges. Of course, he sacked us halfway through the trial, and then refused to pay our fees. As a result, the firm I worked for couldn’t afford to pay me, so I lost my job. I had to move out of the house I had bought earlier that year to rent it out and I moved into a horrible little flat in Queanbeyan by the river. I tried to get a job in the APS, but as all theAPS jobs already had somebody acting in them, and they only ever give jobs to people already acting, I didn’t stand a chance. Meanwhile, the selfish tenants in my house refused to pay rent and it took me months to get them evicted by which time the bank had decided to repossess it, leaving me with nothing but my white Commodore and a few belongings. The very next day, my white Commodore was stolen and torched out on Tharwa Drive somewhere. As the buses in from Queanbeyan are all from the 1920s and therefore carcinogenic and make everybody roadsick, staying in Queanbeyan wasn’t an option and I managed to stay with a friend in Downer. Not long after, the Summernats happened and thick clouds of burnt rubber drifted over my house which made me hysterical and all my hair fell out. So a couple of tickets to CorinBank would really help to get my mind off things…