we are soon to be off

 















hello fellow bloggers.

we are soon taking off for a trip overseas, a sort of delayed honeymoon. with three children.

three children.

count them.

1.

2.

3.

so, in order to have as romantic a trip as possible, i was wondering whether anybody can recommend good places to go and sit in the sun (with a playground), and drink coffee (and hot chocolate) or sip a glass of fine wine (and a granita), or find second-hand books in english (including younger fiction), or a really nice but cheap old silk scarf (marbles) in a bazaar say, or the best and least-disgusting haggis (fish and chips), or a nice place to lay your head and when you wake up in the morning, you just look out the window and there is the sea, just there.

first stop for me and princess is japan. i lived in osaka for ni nen han back in the '90s. i want to show her where ali and i lived, eat some sushi and have the japanese train experience. i'm also going to take her to a sento (public bath house) but she is going to wear bathers and she won't be embarrassed that i am not. she said it would be ok if i'm naked, she just doesn't want to be herself.

but what i'd really like is for anyone to suggest any little cafe or park bench in the following spots: rome, venice, florence, cinque terre, paris, edinburgh or anywhere in scotland, london, new york, honolulu.

oh, and does anyone know of somewhere good to stay in honolulu that is not in waikiki?

is travis one of the best, yet simple, method actors we have ever seen?

while everyone else is playing in facebook-land, and while i take a break from some quite heavy research i'm doing regarding boys and the Arts (question one, is art seen as a girly thing to do by teenage school-boys?), i just want to take a step into all things big brother and make a few comments. and ask some questions.









2. is travis acting out a persona? did he, or someone maybe with more skill, say to themselves "well, how would it be if someone went into the house, the typical aussie bloke, like steve irwin, yeah, irwin, remember how everyone lamented his loss, as the quintessential aussie icon/hero, how would such a person fare in the house?"

[my comment to myself - it would be hard to keep up, but i'm just not convinced that he is the real deal. that much. perhaps he is exaggerating himself a bit. last night, the interview with "hansel" showed him as quite manic, really over the top, and a bit shaken. likewise when they were all on the couch after seeing the footage of them all saying who they did and didn't want to win. but back to the gretel meeting, there were a couple of times when his quick wit showed, it was almost like a comedy script, which is impossible, but still, i get the feeling he is really very clever and not the boofhead oaf that people think he is. he is getting a bit annoying, or a lot, and also some of the things i've read just now scooting about, we are not seeing a lot of the stuff he is saying, which is not very nice. i did catch one particularly edifying exchange up-late when he was talking with pride and a weird kind of casualness about the impressive size of his son's penis, which was just oogey to listen to, and also apparently he is quite focussed on sexual things, which get edited out.]









3. how much do you love zach?

[i love zach HUGELY. i think his little smiling face with the crinkly eyes is so so sweet. i love his "oh my god i don't believe it" face. it's become his trademark, there will be t-shirts i think and i want one. i want him to win, because it would be such a change to the formula, but i don't think he will.]
















4. how much are you enjoying the billy aleisha thang?

[i am enjoying it hugely. i'm a sucker for some sweet loving, and it's reminding me of the marty and jess affair, which also sucked me in big time. i love the way aleisha is scared of getting hurt, she is a smart cookie, but i'm loving the way billy is being very sweet and tender with her, and trying to get her to express her feelings. i also love the way the play and have fun together.]


who to win?

in all honesty, i think travis should win. i think the money would fuck up aleisha, and billy. i don't think zach would do well with the money either, he would be taken advantage of by some smooth-talking con-man who would take it from him. but travis is older, i don't think it would change him, he would help people with it, and i have a sneaking suspicion [and this is very harsh but please don't judge me, i used to work in special ed and have an eye for it] that his son might be needing some kind of special support in the future, if not now. i'm going to hell, i just know it.

ps. the new-look neighbours. we like. i was fearful it was going to go home and away trashy and too grown up, but seems like it's family values all the way. and the baby 'roo sealed the deal for princess.

things to do today (inc footy)

MAKE SOME FASHION

things to do tomorrow:

1a. go to the mcg.

1. watch geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

2. eat a pie and chips while watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

3. drink a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

4. watch my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

5. refrain from glaring at clokes while he yells at "his" players, while watching my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

6. block out the ungenteel swearing of coll-thug-supporters, while refraining from glaring at clokes while he yells at "his" players, while watching my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

7. get a little cold, while looking at the clock, while blocking out the ungenteel swearing of coll-thug-supporters, while refraining from glaring at clokes while he yells at "his" players, while watching my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

8. feel a bit smug for being under shelter, while the rain falls on the others, while getting a little cold, while looking at the clock, while blocking out the ungenteel swearing of coll-thug-supporters, while refraining from glaring at clokes while he yells at "his" players, while watching my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

9. wonder what to have for dinner, while feeling a bit smug for being under shelter, while the rain falls on the others, while getting a little cold, while looking at the clock, while blocking out the ungenteel swearing of coll-thug-supporters, while refraining from glaring at clokes while he yells at "his" players, while watching my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

10. consider giving clokes a consolatory shag [saturday night is business time*], after wondering what to have for dinner, while feeling a bit smug for being under shelter, while the rain falls on the others, while getting a little cold, while looking at the clock, while blocking out the ungenteel swearing of coll-thug-supporters, while refraining from glaring at clokes while he yells at "his" players, while watching my dad cry tears of happiness, while drinking a beer, or maybe two, while eating a pie and chips and watching geelong beat collingwood, at the mcg.

10a. walk back to train station trying to be generous with one whole half of my fam [husband, two children] and not brag too much about geelong beating collingwood.

10b. silently and joyfully hug myself as realisation hits that this is the first time i have been to footy to geelong vs collingwood game and it's been a result to please (me).

10c. push away memory of last year's thrashing of geelong, and dragging clokes from ground before finish of game, driving to carlton with sister and bro-in-law to see some movie. also push away father's last words of "i'm going for a leak" as he left in the last quarter never to return.

10d. push away memory from year before when father karate chopped collingwood supporter in front on shoulder and told him to "sit down!" because he was remaining standing a shade too long after each of collingwood's goals.



* yeah, i know, i know. everyone has links. everyone uses links as the modern-day "hey listen to this monty python record, i'll just play you a bit, it's SO FUCKING HILARIOUS" but really, truly, do yourselves a fucking favour. this one is simply ace.

25/9/81

please remember the following are excerpts from mg's diaries. they are more than 25 years old. they don't describe her current life and they tend to be fairly raw and girly. all are 100% true and 100% daggy.

Last night, S, me, D, D and N put on our Antgear and went to see Adam and the Ants. Never have I imagined such a sexual show. They sang most of the "Kings of the Wild Frontier" album and others (Cartrouble, Xerox Machine, Fetish for Girls, You're So Physical).. Also Press Darlings, A.N.T.S to the sound of Village People's YMCA.

Adam danced perfectly, grinding and swivelling at the exact moments, his bum looking great in leather. He was wearing his Hussar jacket and nose stripe and all his warrior gear. After singing, they left the stage at the end of the show, but after about 10 mins of shouting "Adam, Adam" they reappeared, with Adam having discarded his jacket and wearing only pants and white shirt. As he was singing the next song, he slowly began to pull his shirt loose and at the end of the song he had one shoulder bare, with his tattoo showing and shirt all loose. They ran off again, but when they came on next, when the crowd was yelling "Prince Charming!" they sang a slow and sexy number (You're So Physical). During this, Adam seductively removed his shirt, not over his head, but down over his pants - he was so teasingly provocative. Heaps of girls near the stage had to be carried out and I can see why. He is really provocative! Fair enough, he doesn't drink, smoke or take drugs*, but he does believe in sex - PURE SEX.

The music was great - he sang to the sex people in the audience, telling us to hold our heads high, take pride in ourselves. It was so colourful and so diverse. People of all ages - boys with warrior paint and girls too. There were two guys dressed like Adam and Gary Tibb. The one dressed like Adam also looked like him and S and I stared at him until the real one came on. He put his all into the concert, speak only to dedicate Los Rancheros to Clint Eastwood and asking the audience if they wanted "more". He gave us more, at times on the ground, other times doing his Ant dance which only lasts for a couple of seconds at a time.

I want to go next Wednesday. I went to the bank this afternoon and got money. I know Mum will be in opposition but I want to go so much, especially if S goes. E [sister] will be mad if she doesn't go.

27/9/81

[got more tickets for the next show, going again with a bunch of other people, including sister]

E's costume looks really good - like Robin Hood. She's wearing her red nightie (complete with frills) black tights, my white blouse underneath, and thick black belt. Looks GOOD and it's different.

What I would really love to wear is a frock like in "Picnic at Hanging Rock".**

29/9/81

All systems go tomorrow. S and I are putting our plan into action. We're going into the Southern Cross tomorrow straight from school - what will I tell mum? I think I'll just tell her I'm going shopping. I shouldn't be too late him. I have to go to the concert tomorrow night - CAN'T WAIT!

I heard Adam talking on 3XY tonight and he said he was feeling fit for the show tomorrow night, he'd had a massage. Hmmmm... lucky bitch! Maybe it was a guy, hope so.

Inside the book [picture story book of Waltzing Mathilda] S and I are going to write something to the effect of:

Dear Adam and the Ants,

Welcome to Australia. Hope you enjoy your stay.

From MG & S.

Then we'll put in an extra card to Adam:

Dear Adam,

We really enjoyed the concert and hope you did too.

Lots of love,

MG & S.

(and then our addresses and phone nos.)

It's mad and terribly immature - but then I've never professed to be sane and mature, have I? I'd love him to write, ring or even send his autograph. There's always a chance he will cause it's a good book called "Waltzing Mathilda" with lovely pictures!

It's our only hope!

I wish I could get his autograph for E. What a buzz! Apparently, LD told me, that when the Ants arrived in Melbourne, Molly Meldrum threw them a party - but as Adam isn't interested in smoking, drink or drugs, he left after the first fifteen minutes - GOOD HEY?!?

I'm wondering whether CHOGM tomorrow won't hinder S's and my access to the Southern Cross. I would just be so mad!

* * * *

Rocktober 1st

Today S and I put our plan into action. We caught the tram to the city after school. On the tram we wrote in the book. We then walked to the Southern Cross. After trying to get into the lobbt at the side (it was locked) we went to the main door, only to be confronted by a group of fans and cameras and autograph books. S and I asked an old doorman if there was any way he could leave the book at the lobby desk. He said if we got it wrapped up and labelled he would. So we went into a posh antique shop and borrowed some sticky tape and rewrapped the book and card in brown paper. On the front we wrote:

TO: ADAM AND THE ANTS.

PLEASE DELIVER PERSONALLY.

THANK YOU.

Then we went back to the doorman and he said we could take it in ourselves. So we very coolly walked through the fans to the lobby (where they weren't allowed) and left it at the desk. So it should get to them. I would be satisfied if Adam sent back a little thankyou note. Mmmmm, would I be satisfied!!!

FIRST OF ROCKTOBER 1981.

[insert sketch of balloons, cake with candles and butterfly]

AS DEVO SAYS: IT'S A BEAUTIFUL WORLD.

When I get the lyrics for "Beautiful World" I'll write them in here because I think they're good. Pretty optimistic and happy, I think, but I can't be sure because Devo is an obscure band and their lyrics are not always as they seem. [insert, written in green pen, however long later - Correction: It's cynical!]

I'm playing a cassette, on which I have three interviews with Adam Ant. The first Don Lane one, the "Sounds" one and Monday night's 3XY one.

I think I would suffer accute embarrassment if anybody read this diary... In fact... I know I would. The only person who would understand at the moment is... mmm. I don't know if even N would, I'm not sure. But that's the beauty of having a diary - no one reads it except me. Just ask Anne Frank!

At the moment on the tape Don Lane is making a fool of himself, but Adam sounds perfect. As always...

Don Lane is a SUCK. He keeps interrupting Adam and laughing in a really fake, unsure way. It shits me.

At the concert last night, Sally Boyden and friends were walking past the seats down the middle of the hall. Everyone stood up and started booing her - quite mean.

Last night (early this morning) I dreamt. It was the first time Adam has appeared in a dream... Anyway, I shook hands with him. Then later on, he and his mates were dropping me home in a car and as I got out I said "Can I kiss you?" and I did - ON THE LIPS.

[this is the end of Volume 2]




* now, with my 17-year-old naivety having been beaten out of me in the years since, i believe this equates with britney spears's proclamations of virginity when she was going out with justin and his trousersnake.

** 2012 note - OMFG

wedding wrap up

hello all. i'm not sure what i was waiting for. i guess we came back to earth with a bit of a thud, or i did, just with kids back to school, kids, that three of them, buzzing around and blowing every bit of the magic away.

you know, i love them, love them all, but you can't have a conversation like this with a 10 year old:

me: so, did you enjoy the wedding?

princess: [grabbing my arm] oh, yes. sorry to gush but it was absolutely the best wedding i've ever been to, the food, OH MY GOD THE FOOD, it was simply delicious and hot, all the meals were hot, the servicve was fantastic.

me: i'm glad you had a good time then-

princess: and the MUSIC, it was sooooo good. i loved your first dance, it was funny and so apt, also the last bit, where everyone was joining in, i can't wait to see the video. when do you get the photos?

me: um, i think he said a couple of weeks

princess: well, i can't wait to see them, they'll be beautiful, YOU looked beautiful

get the picture? the conversations went more like when you ask them how school was, and the answers consist of "good" and "i don't know".

but, the venues were spectacular, we got many compliments on the food, music, spectacular surroundings, celebrant, the Dress, how gorgeous the children looked, the family atmosphere and the symbolism of merging these two families.

the weather was superb - mild and summery, it was just perfect.

after leaving the reception in a swirl of dance and laughter we jumped into a car that took us back to the hotel in the city. the one with l'occitane accoutrements in the bathrooms. the one with king suites that are on a corner of the building and overlook the mcg, fitzroy gardens, over to south yarra and the domain, around up the yarra to the arts centre, crown, southbank and eureka tower. we could see out to the ocean, and to the dandenongs and the other hills to the left of the dandenongs. beautiful. we had what i wanted, a lost-in-translation type hotel experience, without the loneliness and angst. we drifted around the city, we ate at oyster, oh god you must go there. the most perfect and simple meal of freshly-shucked oysters, followed by i think a grain-fed beef sirloin on the bone, it was huge, 450g, so much meat i couldn't eat it all but i remember saying it was the best i'd ever had, and a special on the day, with mash potato and we got some sort of greens. dessert was tiramisu served from a huge copper flat pan at the table. the wine, tick. the atmosphere, tick. the service, tick.

oh and we'd started with a vodka martini at the bar.

so a perfect mini-honeymoon.

but then back to reality, and i just haven't been able to bring myself to write about it here. a bit flat i guess but i'm ok. you know when there is a big build-up to something and then it's all over just like that?

but the next thing is the trip, oh excitement much. seriously, there is so much pleasure in looking at apartments in venice on the internet and getting all jiggly and stuff with anticipation.

i've told john i will have sex with him each of the three nights we are in venice if we can get the [more expensive] apartment that i prefer, which is seriously venetian. compared to the others, which could be anywhere, like anywhere, this one is the real deal.

check it.

to the dark side

i've had a wart on my finger since i was in my teens, i think. it seems it's always been there, always a part of me. it's really two warts, that have merged together, in some way romantic, a joining of two which have become one larger, stronger, but uglier, thing.

two weeks ago i bought some wart stuff. some killer paint that stinks and promises to get rid of my wart, as well as the roots, if it's a plantar type.

i don't really know what a plantar wart is, but it sounds like a heavier version of just a normal wart. of course my wart would never be a simple little easy-to-cure matter. it would have to be of the industrial strength.

my wart is not small, and it's not like a little bump on the surface of my skin. it's spread, and it looks kind of transparent. i have bitten it off at times, the raised bit. i fiddle with it, flick it with my thumb. it annoys the shit out of people probably.

so why, when this wart has been a companion for so long, have i decided to get rid of it?

why now?

i'm not quite sure, but i think it's meaningful. in some ways i guess i am wanting to rid myself of my baggage.

but a wart is not baggage, you say.

well, it kind of is, i reply. to me, it's something i've carried long distances, through time, it's been on me, not weighing much, but there all the same. my wart has been with me longer than almost everyone i know.

about a week ago the wart was raising up, something was happening. it was like it was pushing to the surface. it kind of lifted up at one side, and i worked it, and worried at it, and pulled off that thick layer of skin. expecting to see the underneath a bit cleared, a bit healed, a bit better.

but it just looked the same as before, really.

it was then i realised this wart is a bitch, and it will take time to get rid of it. this wart is a stayer, and it doesn't want to leave me. this wart has dug its heels in, taken a pew, gotten comfortable.

this wart might take years to cure.

so every night, i'll keep painting it with the smelly clear liquid. i'll wait and see what happens. i'll watch my wart, i'll monitor it. and hope that one day it will be gone.

well, it's time to rock n' roll

big day tomorrow folks. all is on track.

i'll leave it up to you to imagine how things will pan out.

love you all, have a good weekend.

more back to the '80s in a couple of weeks.

ps. sub, will try to make it, but might be "otherwise occupied". xxx

this or this?

this or this?

certainly this in the afternoon. nice.

coast 2827

i am putting a question mark on this place, to join others on my personal 'don't like' list, which includes a couple of milkbars in istanbul. so, don't go to them either, they'll put the price of milk up daily on you just because you keep coming back because you've got a baby to feed, and you're obviously rich cause you're a foreign sucker.

in a nutshell, this is what happened on sunday.

6 female diners order various meals for lunch, ranging from panini-type things to fully-blown burgers with the lot. before you say, hello, here's trouble, please bear in mind we had just been soaking at the day spa and we were so mellow that even i, prickly bitch that i can be, was relaxed, laid-back and loving everyone.

1. the meals took ages to come out.

2. the burgers were burnt. the meat, not the buns. 3 out of 3. burnt. charcoal.

3. the calamari (main we thought, but excused as entree) was a PATHETIC scattering of squid strips on a too-large mound of rocket. for $18.50.

however, the worst thing of it all was the manager who came to our table when we asked to speak to him.

amongst other things, and anchored in a very defensive angry attitude, he told us that:

a] he was sick of people complaining about his prices and his meals

i said to that: 'so this happens alot then?'

b] that there was obviously nothing he could say to make us feel better about this

i said, well actually, bucko*, if you say you won't charge for the calamari, then that would make us feel better. (this was before we the burnt burgers even arrived. he said, no, that he intended to charge for the calamari that had been sent back to the kitchen in disgust. okay, thanks.)

c] that he didn't want our money for the food, and that we weren't to step inside his restaurant ever again (please note contradiction with point b about charging for the calamari. okay we're dealing with someone with some mental problems here. a person who is dealing with LOTS OF COMPLAINTS ABOUT HIS RESTAURANT) (I'd call it a cafe, really.)

so. i ate my chips. i didn't eat my burger, or bacon or anything else that was on the plate. this was a hardship because i don't eat burgers. ever really. and i was looking forward to that burger and had changed my order from linguine with seafood, a more normal choice for me.

i opened the burger up in a nice display so it could be seen by all. i also ate chips from the extra bowl we'd ordered. the chips were nice. i also drained my glass of scotchman's hill chardy. i left $5. on the table. everyone else paid what they felt they should. my burger-eating friends had cut off the burnt bits and managed to eat all theirs. we were starving, and it was 1.30 by the time we ordered.

but i tell you, it left a bad taste in the mouth.

and you know what, i don't think he would have DARED speak to us like that if there was one of us with a fucking Y chromosome. i really don't.



* i didn't say bucko. we were being polite, civilised yet assertive.

further memo to big brother's jamie

hello love

look, you obviously got lost in my last memo; bogged down in the mire of my attempts to enlighten you re the islamic faith etc. clearly, you didn't pay attention to what was, really, the most important point of the whole letter.

give. up. on. emma.

hear me?

give up on emma.

she doesn't even know you exist.

now, i'm not saying anything about her being out of your league, even though she actually clearly believes this to be the case. and it might well be the case. but if you had the right stuff, boyo, you could get her.

my suggestions are these, a couple of ideas of ways you can maybe be a little more edgy and a little less seal-like.

1. stop moaning about how emma doesn't like you, isn't giving you a chance, doesn't know you, the real you.

2. stop pointing out to others about how you falling in the pool on purpose is the real you. it's really unattractive.

3. speaking of unattractive, i don't think you are, un- that is. i think you have lovely eyes and a smile that's lovely too. actually you are quite handsome, but unfortunately (and quite opposite to what i expected) i think your personality or your neuroses are letting you down.

4. stop, JUST FUCKING STOP, lying around with your arms down by your sides and your head up at a weird angle. you were doing it last night while hayley was having a bitch in the pool. and what were you doing? in the pool in those horrible underpants? no. you were lying, fully clothed, on the decking next to her. your arms weren't propping you up, they were lying like dead meat beside your body, your legs straight out, and head up. what's going on? are you trying to look like the most idiotic person in the house? please. enough. stop it. you look like a seal.*

5. stay away from rebecca. she's a bit twisted and nutty. you will get her unpopularity stench onto you.

6. unfortunately emma is the alpha human in the pack. she is so fucking wily and manipulative. you wouldn't want her as your girlfriend anyway. believe me.

7. just relax and smile a bit more.

8. if you are packing something serious in your pants like your namesake from last year, get it out now. otherwise it might be too late.

9. keep on cooking, they like that, but don't be such a suck about everything. there've been a couple of times when i've seen a spark of something good, but you spoil it with your bleating and suckiness. be a man. go on.

10. don't do the slapstick fall-in-the-pool routine again, or similar. it just smacks of desperation and i can smell your fear-sweat from here.

the only other thing i can think of to suggest, which won't help you while you're in there, but you might consider once you're out is reading the game, by neil strauss. i reckon emma could do with some heavy negging, sarging and if you could peacock a bit more (NOT SEAL) you might be in with a chance.

that's all for now, jamie.

i'm rooting for you.

you go, boy etc.

good luck.

love melbournegirl xxx

* nothing against seals, they are gorgeous creatures. i just want jamie to present himself properly, realise his potential, as a human of the boy variety, not a water-creature, whale, sealion etc.

memo to big brother's jamie and nick, i think it's nick

hi boys,

mind if i just butt into a conversation you were having in the spa recently, maybe yesterday, remember, when you were talking about demet and the "type of muslim she is" and how while you thought that muslim women were not meant to show their bodies, and "move the way she does" and bellydance and stuff? remember that chat you had? i know you weren't being critical, more curious, so i'm not picking on you about that.

what annoyed, or frustrated, me what that while you two guys sat there in the spa, pondering demet and the way she moves her body, and that it's not how you expected a muslim woman to behave, i was sitting on the couch wanting to shout so that you could hear me. especially when, jamie, in all your reasonablene puzzlement, acknowledged that there are different types of muslims. the unspoken part was that (my interpretation) perhaps there are some muslims who are ok with bellydancing and women showing their bodies (ie dressing where you can see a slip of tummy, and arms, and no scarf).

can i just say there are different types of muslims but these are basically, as far as i know, sunni and shiite. what you were talking about, jamie, is that there are infinite degrees of adherence to the religion, just as there are with other religions. i know jews who eat pork products, and those that keep kosher. and then there's everything in between. some christians go to church and show their faith in certain traditional ways, others don't. muslims are the same. some cover, some don't. some smoke, and drink and eat pork. some don't. i've met muslim girls who wear the tightest jeans and skimpiest tops, in istanbul, not here, and also ones who cover but have the most amazingly stylish and sexy clothes underneath their overcoats.

obviously, the ones who aren't strict about dietary and behavioural guidelines are not the super-religious ones. but some who observe the dietary restrictions aren't particularly religious - diet and dress is a customary thing. but they all still probably identify as muslim.

so you see jamie, you were kind of close, but really kind of wrong and ignorant. it's not your fault. i think alot of australians have similar ideas and misconceptions. there is no such thing as "Relaxed Islam" [bellydancing, showing skin, premarital sex and drinking alcohol] as a religious group. but there are millions of "relaxed" muslims around the world who are just living their lives - skin, dancing and movement - just like everyone else. just because someone identifies as muslim doesn't mean that they pray 5 times a day, cover themselves, etc. they are just the religious or more conservative ones.

hope this has shed a bit of light, boys.

good luck with it all though jamie. just give up on emma. she is just not interested.

mg xxx

listen up, melbournegirl

remember, don't spend too much time wondering why bottom cleavage is not fashionable, let alone desirable. it just is what it is.

also, don't worry too much about PSYCHO FUCKING BITCHES WHO NEED SOME STRONG MEDICATION JUST SO THEY CAN KEEP IT FUCKING CIVIL AND NOT AMBUSH YOU WITH THEIR CRAZY MUMBO-JUMBO SHIT ABOUT BLAH DE BLAH, AND ALL THAT.
okay, just keep it together, you are doing fine.

moving right along.

how are all of you?

yesterday, 2007

thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to complete strangers david and paul, who saw me needing help and that everyone else was just ignoring me and going about their business at 9am. thank you for helping me get the car back over the gutter at the petrol station, no, i'm not sure how i got it there in such a way that the nose was poking across the footpath and i was at right-angles to where i should have been. thank you for scratching your heads, thinking carefully about the problem, and not walking away when you could have. thank you for carrying bricks across north road twice, and not giving up on me. we got it done, without any damage. apart from the damage my pride suffered. i wanted to hug both of you, but i'm glad i shook your hands and got your names. hope you got some laughs through the day by re-telling the story. i don't mind. honestly. you guys rock.

thank you also to red symons. you gave me a lift when you checked me out at the cafe in clifton hill. you see, i'd been to a hair trial with my sister and while i thought the result was just a little too kerri-anne-kennerley, you obviously thought i was a bit of a hot number. so thank you for giving me that lift, just when i needed it.

so, the kindness of strangers. never underestimate it. it could be you one day, with your car, or your hair, in the shit. maybe even in the same day.

and before you tell me that was such a woman thing to do with the car, and "are you blonde" and all that, paul told me he'd done it before. sweetie, trying to make me feel better. i didn't tell him i'd also done similar before. twice.

i don't know which is worse - 2007 or 1981.

all of the following happened today. some i found more disturbing than others.

join me and shudder:

me, my mum and princess went to have lunch at the cuckoo, a "quaint" theme restaurant in the dandenongs, which has been operating for 49 years, and in that time the decor, table-cloths, stage show and stage show gags have not been changed. at all. since i was a kid.











i ate roast pork and some crackling. this is only mildly disturbing, and i'm not quite sure why. i do love a bit of pork crackling.

at one stage, the man doing the yodelling and cow bells routine took the snare drum off the stand (is that the big round brass one?) and put it on his head when he learned there were "visitors from korea" in the audience. he then placed his hands in prayer position and sang them a stupid chinese song. my mother and i looked at each other in utter shock and embarrassment, and then talked through the rest of the act. fucking tool.
princess was dragged into the live show, being the only child there who could wield a cow bell responsibly (and being the only child there whose mother caught the eye of the mc and smiled and nodded to her daughter when he was casting his eye around for participants). the other guy who got the little bell was a wisecracking and very annoying person who wavered across the line between audience participation and heckling a number of times.
my mum was getting ogled by various elderly gentleman. she is looking good, i must say, and even had a bit of tasteful cleavage happening. however, it's always disturbing to a child to have their mother checked out, especially by old coots who are sitting there with their wives. sniff.
the man who made the pancakes also played the piano for the musical act.
there was a sign in the ladies that said "for the comfort of other guests, please use the toilet spray provided". think about it. all-you-can-eat establishment; 50 different types of desserts; yodelling. it would go right through anybody.
my mother thinks i am the athena archetype, and that she herself has always been the demeter but is trying to be more athena. i, however, think i am a blend of artemis and hestia, although they are contradictory.
-------

anyway, princess wasn't at school today because her year level is away on camp, and this was the consolation of not being allowed to go. the school wouldn't take her, which i understand, but i would have been less compliant were she permanently disabled, rather than temporarily.

cast comes off tomorrow, woo hoo. she will have big bubble bath, then festivities continue with a meal out tomorrow night, complete with mocktails for the under-aged and over-sized schnitzels for all.

back to the '80s soon.

firecrackers

this is a story i wrote when i was about 10 or 11 i think, judging by the ink pen, the fancy heading and illustration, and the judgmental tone.

i remember feeling pissed off when we weren't allowed to have guy fawkes night anymore.

i'm copying it exactly, with spelling and punctuation errors as original. note the use of american spelling conventions. something i never do these days. note also the polemic and also the way my argument becomes extremely lame at the end.


'firecrackers'

Hooligans thats what they are. Hooligans who spoil the fun of Guy Fawkes Night. They roam around the streets playing jokes on everyone. They not only act stupidly at night but in the day-time they vandalize trees in the parks and explode letter-boxes. Because of these idiots a law will be passed banning explosive bungers. Harmless little Tom Thumbs will go too. But I still think that animals can be injured and some foolish kids can be inclined too get a bit wild. So, in some ways I think it best to ban the bungars and it may be very useful.

claypots schmaypots

that's right. we went to claypots last week. this establishment has had people raving over it. people in the newspapers, people on the street. people who are friends.

i've been wanting to go because everyone said it was sooooooo good.

well, to my mind, it wasn't.

i'm sorry but there it is. we sat there and indulged them their quirky ordering system. the waiter was nice, and he indulged us our dull-witedness when it came to trying to order for three kids and two adults.

so we finally settled on a claypot which had pipis and fish in it [i describe it like a pudding, the dude said]. we ordered a meze arrangement of about 8 small dishes. and a whole flathead for the table. and three kids meals which were the only good things to appear. as well as the wine. which we had to go and get ourselves from the tavern.

BUT THAT'S OK.

look, i know it's not nice to bag a restaurant. they work very hard and all that. which is why i'm doing this here and not here, the restaurant review group i belong to. because the original point of that site, we do chew our food, was to post about great places to eat, and share those recommendations with others.

let me detail the ways in which claypots was for me a pretty ordinary experience:

1. every bite of fish seemed to have bone in it. and i'm not just talking about the sardines; that i expect. but the stingray, check. the whole flathead, check.

2. can i just say, cajun spices and seafood DO NOT GO TOGETHER. this is my fault for going to a restaurant where these flavours are the specialty

put it this way; seafood = delicate, light. cayenne pepper, paprika, all types of peppers, etc = mouth burny, overwhelming and yuck.

i am not one of those people who are fussy about their food. i love strongly-flavoured, tasty, spicy, hot food but not with fish or crustaceans.

was this my fault? should i have known claypots is cajun? is it all cajun or just what we ordered? am i being unfair?

but mouthsful of bones, followed by large sections of unbearable, AWFUL spices, had me almost gagging.

on a lighter note i was happy to see the spunky dame win the oscar for best actress, also i bought some brown cords today. saw a girl on a bike wearing some yesterday, thought to myself i need some brown cords, and then there they were today, just waiting patiently for me to take them, try them on, and buy them

bliss.

ps. any lawyers out there, tell me if this claypots thing is defamatory. i'll bin it. INC?

what's your excuse, peter?

you know, the more i think about this, the more disgusted i am. look at his t-shirt in that picture

LOOK AT IT.

it says: "what's your excuse?"

now, read these lyrics

power and passion - midnight oil

People,
wasting away
in paradise
Going backward,
once in a while
Moving ahead,
Falling behind
What do you believe,
what do you believe
What do you believe is true
Nothing they say makes a difference this way
Nothing they say will do
Take all the trouble that you can afford
At least you won't have time to be bored
Oh the power and the passion,
Oh the temper of the time
Oh the power and the passion
Sometimes you've got to take the hardest line
Sunburnt faces around,
with skin so brown

Smiling zinc cream and crowds,

Sundays the beach never a cloud
Breathing eucalypt,
pushing panel vans
Stuff and munch junk food
Laughing at the truth,
cos Gough was tough til he hit the rough
Uncle sam and john were quite enough
Too much of sunshine too much of sky
It's enough to make you want to cry
Oh the power...I see buildings,
clothing the sky, in paradise
Sydney, nights are warm
Daytime telly, blue rinse dawn
Dad's so bad he lives in the pub,
it's a underarms and football clubs
Flat chat, pine gap,
in every home a big mac
And no one goes outback,
that's that
You take what you get
and get what you please
It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees

so Gough was tough til he hit the rough, peter? what about you? rolling over like that.
when i was younger, amongst all the simon le bons and pretty boy bands, amongst our crushes on the cute one from the clash, or sting or suggs, behind all that, was the constant admiration for midnight oil in general, and peter garrett in particular.
he sang his guts out, he was passionate, he believed and he made you believe too, even if you were just a school girl, then a uni student, then a young worker, more interested in going out and drinking and dancing than politics and the environment.
but he was always there, with those arms spread wide, those massive hands stretched in supplication for people to hear him.
so peter, old pedro, vieux pierre. what gives? do they have you over a barrel? did you have to sign something before joining the labor party, saying you would denounce your old ways, leave it all behind. start anew. sell your fucking soul for a chair in the house of politics. and have to make kissy kissy suck arse to the americans, who you also criticised in your songs.
hey, remember, you even sang a song about us bases in australia, you even mentioned PINE GAP.
have you forgotten? you made it rhyme with 'big mac' (and better punctuation with this one, I had to put in lots of possessive apostrophes in the last lyrics)

US FORCES

US Forces give the nod,
IT'S A SETBACK FOR YOUR COUNTRY  (your country too peter).
Bombs and trenches all in rows,
bombs and threats STILL ASK FOR MORE  (they're still asking, and you're helping them)
Divided world the CIA,
say who control the issue
You leave us with no time to talk,
YOU CAN WRITE YOUR OWN ASSESSMENT  (guess you have as well, haven't you?)
Sing me songs of no denying,
seems to me too many trying
Waiting for the next big thing
Will you know it when you see it,
HIGH RISK CHILDREN DOGS OF WAR  (did you EVER think in your life someone might say this about you?)
Now market movements call the shots,
business deals in parking lots
Waiting for the meat of tomorrow
i am so disgusted.* this is the man who everyone in the country relied on to stick to his principles, ideals, values.
i am so ashamed and cross i am starting to write like derryn bloddy hinch.
stopping now.
see you garrett. there is no excuse. whatever the trade-off. live on your knees, peter, live on your knees.

 it's enough to make me want to cry.

* 2012 note - I have to say I am not nearly as disgusted with Peter Garret these days. What was that? Young rebellion? I'm not sure but I think he's okay for the moment. Would love to see him get out there and be The Person Who Does A Lot of Serious and Solid Work in a Political Capacity for the Indigenous People of Australia.

friday's whimsical thoughts have become saturday's melting musings

fuck it's hot, isn't it? melbourne has sure pulled a scorcher out of the box this weekend.

so, yesterday i was thinking of lots of things. i'm too hot to go into detail, all right, so you can ask if you want more info. i know, lazy blogger, i've already admitted as much.

1. the owner of ONO 687, a white KIA that was parked outside our house on friday, you are a fucking knob for leaving your poor dog in the car. no, having the driver's window down half a foot doesn't excuse you. where was the water? where was the shade, because you weren't parked in it, idiot. and the roof of a car doesn't count as shade, not when it's 36 degrees out and the inside of the tin box is probably 50+

i hope the cops came when i rang on the advice of the rspca. i hope they did something bad to you, even if it was just a bit of a rough up. i wish i'd been here to see it, but i had to go pick up my kids from school.

2. i went to the chiro yesterday. she thinks i have carpal tunnel. this is not good. i have to try and use my mouse with my left hand for starters. this is pathetic. it's just trying to rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time, except i can do that all right. the funny thing is, maybe, that my chiro deep heated it etc, then wrapped it in a bandage. i was feeling it was quite fetching and groovy for some bizarre reason, made me feel like i was wearing a tennis sweat band, until i realised that maybe people would think i'd cut my wrist, and then i started feeling self conscious about it. we went to a school open day for oldest daughter, and being a catholic school, i was thinking they were thinking i was a sinner for trying to cut myself. i was wanting to say, i am stable and i have carpal tunnel, please enrol this child.

3. the kids are cooking dinner. they are up the street with john getting the makings of dinner. we have the following to look forward to:

- dips and turkish bread for entree
- chicken parma (no, elaine and ruby, i had NO INPUT ON THAT DISH AT ALL)
- some sort of mystery dessert. they keep it secret, as a supposed attraction to us, the adults, but what they are really doing is giving themselves license to pile up a plate with absolutely every sweet thing they can find in the house. think about it. these kids are smart.

4. today is our day to water - yes detectives amongst ye, we are indeeed an even-numbered house. we have to water cause we haven't done it for ages. but i want to watch ice age 2 which is the slated entertainment for this evening. conundrum.

5. the bra part of the lingerie mentioned last post was returned to the shop and exchanged for a larger size. let's just say i underestimated my bosoms. you'd think i'd know wouldn't you, but i have lost quite a bit of weight lately in my efforts to be hott bride, and it was a little snug*

6. i keep talking about the oc. i love it. i love seth cohen and am very fond of summer. ryan doesn't really do it for me, he has a sideways thing in his acting which reminds me equally of russell crowe and richard gere and his blink-acting. i also love sandy. very much. although we're up to where he lied about his ex-girlfriend still being alive. his wife is very pissed off.

7. i am really quite deaf these days. it's deteriorated a lot in the last six months. i have to get a check up, don't i? is it a symptom of anything really bad, apart from deafness?

8. the gigi is one hot puppy, poor baby. she lies on the kitchen floor where it's maybe a little cooler.

9. i have to give up some tv. i am not coping with late nights. i wake up in the morning like an old woman with aching bones, and a dry mouth, and then i have to drag myself off to the gym. so can you help me. please vote for which shows i should drop out of the following pool:

- neighbours
- desperate housewives [kind of lost interest in this anyway]
- sisters and brothers
- heroes [think i can give this one a miss, after watching two shows]
- medium [don't tell me to give this one up, i love it]
- lost [hmmm, it's just so hard to watch off the tv. the ads, even fast forwarding through them, distracting]

these are all weekly shows that have to be watched. then there's the oc which we're watching on dvd and deadwood which we're waiting for the new season, also on dvd.

the thing is, i am watching more tv than i ever have in my life. i don't want to. please help me. there's so much else to do.

10. should i have the scottish piper at the ceremony or the reception, just at the beginning when guests are arriving. which is more appropriate?

take care, be nice, and don't leave dogs in cars on hot days. or i will dob you in to the cops. promise.






* read impossibly uncomfortable as well as unflattering.

for this is why i love you

1. you buy me lingerie even though you know i'm at the tail end of my period, and you may not get any tonight.

2. you don't make a fuss about arriving home after work, to see me and my ex-husband drinking italian spumante.

3. you don't make an unfunny joke about being out-italianned by the turk. you graciously left that up to me.

4. you put up with my moods.

5. you put up with my criticism.

6. you still think i have a great arse, even more than three years later.

7. you do still think i have a great arse, don't you?

8. you don't flinch when i tell you that we can't have the pancetta at the wedding cause of our jewish guests. you don't even say but what about all the italians? there'll be 40+ italians and only a handful of jews? - which i would find it hard to argue with. luckily, we found a compromise. i am all about being inclusive.

9. you also don't flinch when i respond thank you when you tell me you love me. (it's my little ryan from the oc joke, geddit?)

10. you don't make a fuss when you see my ex-husband's washing on the line. he's going tomorrow.

at least i didn't iron his shirts

11. you don't hassle me for the strip-tease i promised you oh, about two valentine's ago. i know it's in writing - thank you for being patient.

12. but most of all, you just love me. no matter what.

thank you for that.

lazy blogger

you know i realised yesterday i am being a very lazy blogger. i started looking back at stuff i did in my early days, and saw how much effort i put into posting.

no more.

well, not at the moment anyway. i'm just not feeling it, you know. i've got other stuff on my mind, like seth cohen from the oc and how godamned funny he is. and whether the new series sisters and brothers will be a goer; whether i will persist with desperate housewives, or prison break. how lost starts again next week and that will really be like seeing old friends.

and then i wonder how i will manage to pull off the wedding of the decade in 3 months time.

how i will manage to write something for my next writerly meeting i have with a girlfriend in 2 weeks.

whether i should have a girls only weekend away pre-nuptials or an altogether party with boys as well.

see, how my life is wracked with questions and difficulties?

i wonder what frame of mind i used to be in to write some of my old posts, which just dripped off my fingers. which i will now shamelessly re-publish as a lazy, self-promoting plug.

this was quite a sociologically interesting one.
so, there's some reading for you, if you'd like.

i think that's all. oh yeah, bring david hicks home.

Hicks home etc

david hicks needs to be brought home. i don't care about all the ins and outs, the legalities, the finer points of argument, the this, the that.

it's unjust.
it's inhumane.
it's wrong to keep him there.
here:

what about the geneva convention and human rights? some people excuse the lapse or breaches in human rights and say well, what he did was an act of war and treason, blah de blah. but those standards, that legislation was enacted after war to ensure that barbaric, inhumane behaviour would not happen in times of war.

it's important to read, to know what is going on. i'm glad it's not left the mainstream media; the little i read reassures me that it's still current, still topical, hopefully still in the minds of decent australians.
if we haven't got solid and fair laws, and people to make sure that they are upheld, then what kind of society are we? what kind of humans are we? what separates us from the evil, psychopathic, mindless destroyers who we say we are the enemies of?
have a good weekend. enjoy the sunshine. take off your shoes and give everyone you see lots of hugs. look them right in the eye and tell them you love this or that about them. don't drink too much.

Hicks etc

HICKS

Hicks etc

Hicks etc

and the wedding countdown begins...

no, only joking.

i promise i won't bore you good people with wedding stuff, and this might be the only time i mention it, but i will think of this video if i have hair iss-ews of my own on may 26th.

so it's like this, hombres.

i'm too busy to be blogging. things have slowed down around these here parts. i'm talking like someone out of deadwood. we've been watching it. they say fuck and cocksucker all the time. it's funny to watch a western with such language. we're up to the bit where a new operation has moved into town; wagons full of fine lookin' whores, crap tables and liquor has got the town nasty-man a bit worried.

but i've got work to do. i can't be sitting around looking at blogs, or writing posts, so i will go quiet for a while in an effort to meet my deadlines. one on jan 22 the other on jan 29.

it's not pretty.

so i hope you are all well, and only watering your gardens on the correct days. i hope none of you are wearing crocs, and that the heat we are likely to get this month is not too bad for your critters and chilluns. KEEP PUTTING THEM HATS ON, varmints.

there i go again.

peace.
love.
light.

christmas cheer

well it's that time of year, when i need to go and cook a bunch of food* and get a headache. no, really it's nice, it's exciting, the kids are going mental.

but this is for you.

go on, open it up.











and tell me what you've found in the comments.

i hope it's what you wanted. and don't give me any world peace shit. we all want that, that goes without saying. what would YOU like?

have a good one.

peace. love. happiness. good health. and not too much indigestion. these are my wishes for you.

xxx



* menu for tomorrow, 20 people (12 adults/8 kiddlings) = antipasto platters, arancini, roast pork, potatoes au gratin, kebabs with fillet of beef and italian sausages, crunchy noodle salad, green salad, trifle, pavlova with berries, semi fredo. leftovers on christmas day i believe.

friday bits and pieces

1. recently i have been torturing myself with this book, called dear charlie. it's a series of letters written by a grief-stricken father whose 13-year-old fresh-faced full of life daughter was hit and killed by a train at a crossing in england. this happened last year, december 3. i haven't finished the book yet but i cry as i read, often, and am filled with all sorts of dreads and fears and catastrophic imaginings. i'm not quite sure why i am doing this to myself. it's like an obsession.

















2. yesterday i found out my little nephew will be entering prep with son of chopper. believe me when i say if there's any chance of being at a kid birthday party with the dad, i'll be there.

3. i keep seeing parents out and about with tiny little newborn type babies.

PLEASE PUT A HAT ON YOUR BABY.


4. we have 2 hours of neighbours to watch tonight. oh, happy, happy friday.

5. i will be working in january. i have two research things on the go. there is a junket in february. i've never really been on a junket before. don't get too excited. i think it's to inverloch.

6. on monday i am going to see borat again. i will be with my mother, my sister and my brother-in-law who couldn't watch the office without putting his hands over his eyes. and found curb your enthusiasm even more difficult. i am going to be torn between concentrating on the movie for all those little bits i'm sure i missed the first time, the layers, and watching the others in my group. i am particularly worried about a masturbation scene and a defecation scene with regards to my mother. everything else will be ok i'm sure. she insists on seeing it, even though i've told her how bad it is.

7. i was most excited to see scallops with roe off in my fish store today. so tonight john and i will be dining on: a dozen oysters each, split half tassie, half south australian. don't eat sydney rock oysters - they are not clean.

then a wonderful spaghetti marinara made my moi with olive oil, garlic, parsley and scallops, rockling and prawns.

i think we'll need white wine as well.

bliss.

8. on tuesday next week, my sister and i are going into the cbd. this will be a pre-wedding festival of dresses, looking at hotel room, looking at the ceremony venue, maybe going to tiffany just to look at the wedding bands, lunch, fun, sore feet, annoyance with the crowds, and perhaps a wee hot chocolate at max brunner's. or is it brenners? what do you think?

9. i'm wondering what to plan for our mega-christmas eve lunch where we have so many people coming we need to break out the trestle tables and folding chairs from event management central (john's parents). last year i did cold roast chicken, lasagne, and salads. i think for dessert we had the double-nut choc torte and perhaps the upside-down pear cake.
any suggestions?

10. my dad told me he is going to burn his diaries. i'm faced with a similar dilemma. i have diaries going back to when i was about 16 or 17. if i stacked them in a pile they would reach my upper thigh? anyway, there's over 20 volumes. i know cause i numbered them. i stopped writing them shortly after having princess, so that was 10 years ago. dribs and drabs since then. there is so much shit in them ("i'm reading the accidental tourist and went and bought gym boots at dimmy's. also tomorrow night we're going to the corner. had a twins souvlaki last night after we were out in carlton. we fit 8 people in the beetle and went back to bbqs galore in richmond for a party. the assistant manager let us in...") but there is also some pretty full-on stuff too. really personal stuff. i am pissed off at the idea of my dad burning his history, but then i'm thinking about doing the same. do i want princess to read this shit? where i say things like: "ali was a fucking idiot today, why do i put up with him treating me like shit, i deserve better." he did this, he did that, etc. so, i said to dad if there are any that aren't too personal but have stuff in them other than:

1. re-run dunlop data tapes; mainframe reels blah de blah, changeover at 0900 hours

2. book car in for service

3. go 20 H collect mail

4. book dinner at tabener's

5. pay po box fee

then i would be very much interested in having them, just because. i know there are secrets in his family, there was whisper of a rape, mention of mental illness, suggestion of stillbirth, but it's all withheld, no one will talk about it. what i need to do is try and somehow engineer a meeting with helen garner. strangely she is related, and i bet she knows shit about my family. i would need to befriend her in a non-stalky manner (possible, yes?) and then extract, pump and relieve her of certain tidbits. i was a born snoop/detective.
i don't like finishing on 11. it's just so a-symmetrical. however, i went to the school principal this morning and reported grand larceny in princess's classroom. on tuesday they had italian day (this is where my silent reader danny katz's ears prick up. my kid's italian day was on tuesday as well, he thinks.)
during the day, classes moved around into and out of rooms. by wednesday it was apparent that no less than SIX girls had been robbed of one of the most highly-valued, top-status possessions an 8-12 year old girl can own.

SMIGGLE STATIONERY.

this morning i noted down the details as princess related them. i took my list to the principal and he indulged me by listening. i wouldn't have made a big deal about it if it was just one thing (princess's pack of 8 SCENTED gel pens) HOWEVER also taken was a pack of 12 highlighters, 3 erasers, loose textas, from tubs under desks, and from inside smiggle boxes which were closed.
the principal is getting back to me.

have a good weekend. eat fish. it's good for you.

dear ali

it's that time of year again, isn't it dear ex-husband? remember last year? i do, with great fondness as i rushed around, right about this time, or even a bit later i think it was, even closer to christmas, making bookings for princess to go and stay with you in america.

remember those wonderful days, when you would text and call me at all hours, impatient and derisory, saying things like "if only you were professional and good".

well, listen, bucko. i aint a travel agent. and i aint your wife anymore, so you can fuck off with your professional and good.

so it's around this time you come into my life with your texts and your phone calls and your demands. and i can't tell you to fuck off because the person we both love most in the whole wide wonderful world hovers between us, like human fairy-floss, both of us wanting to hold it and adore the pinkness.

so, you two have made a plan to go to brisbane. great. no really, i mean it. GREAT. why wouldn't i be happy for my daughter to go to all those worlds up there, movie, wet n' wild and sea. and why wouldn't i want to help out with flight bookings and accommodation. after all, i want her to travel and stay safely and pleasantly. i do want to smooth things, keep things cool. why would i want to tell you to fuck off, make your own reservations?

but please, just stop telling me that I'M making things difficult, when you don't see me on my little hamster-wheel, spinning spinning to try and work things out for you. i work really hard over here, i'm busy as anything, yet i prioritise your demands to keep things smooth. so you go to your fucking james bond movies, you go and get drunk over there in london. i don't mind. but please be polite to me. thank me for my efforts. don't cut me down. when i call you to ask if your drivers' licence is current, and what the address is on it, don't tell me i'm causing problems, and why haven't i managed to finish all this in the 2 days you've given me to do it.

you've given me to do it?

i must have missed the fact that i'm a slave to your schedule, how could i have possibly not realised?

so don't make with the nice with me one minute and then turn on me like that. try and be civil all the time, and don't make it seem like you're doing me a favour just because you control your temper, you don't get angry at me because i might not understand straight away what you are saying in your thick fucking accent over the phone.

so enjoy your trip to brisbane. i hope you don't stay in melbourne long. i hope we can get through this without an argument. or without me getting that familiar sick feeling of hotness and nausea when you are around and you are not happy.

from

your former wife
melbournegirl

big catch up post

this will have to be in list form. but before you turn away in disgust, thinking i'm being lazy, bear with me. often these can be the real doozies, the beautiful posts, the stream-of-consciousness check-this-out kind of spiel. it's just i'm under the hammer, the december hammer, where my life spins out of control. it all begins with:

yesterday: my birthday. i got lots of creams and lotions, a splurge at the chanel cosmetics counter, chrissy amphlett's autobio, the bio on kerry packer and a book about a female gp about all things health-related. you know i'm old, i've told you before. i also got flowers, funky glass tumblers and a loverly candle. we ate oysters, prawns and fillet steak, followed by a cake from patterson's. say no more.

then today princess had her ballet concert and i ran into peter rowsthorn. when i say "ran into" what i mean more precisely is that i saw him videoing one of the acts, and went and stood next to him with my video camera, and politely waited until he finished. then i said hi. we knew each other oh years ago, and so we chatted briefly and i managed to make him laugh. what was it about? well, amway actually, and it was a cheap shot against a formerly-mutual friend. bad i know, i am not above betraying old friends to make a comedian laugh. especially one who is in kath and kim. you'll see me on thank god you're here yet.*

last week also i heard about my thesis. for those who don't know, at the end of may i submitted my master thesis. i'd done it full time for 12 months + a 3 month extension. then about 3 months after that i received word that one examiner had loved it, and the other had hated it.

HATED IT.

as in, had nothing good to say about it and refused to give it a mark.

now, this is not good. i kept my cool, i told my supervisor that i was standing by my work and taking out a contract on the examiner. she told me not to be rash, and that they would find another person to review it. so it went to a very eminent canadian academic, who has reviewed it and passed it.

so:

clink goes the champagne.

i've also picked up some more research work for melbuni lecturer re "creativity" - sheesh what a narrow topic, do you think we could broaden that out a bit? - which will see me busy over the rest of december and all of january. it involves a literature review and powerpoint presentation, to the level of teachers, ie "make it intelligible and not overly wanky" i'm guessing.

but, to the burning point of interest for all readers.


the hair.

john and i went down to port fairy last weekend, had monday off, it was delightful, it was de-lovely. and i washed my hair on the sunday. and...

DRUM ROLL

it's still ok. it's a good cut, and i am happy with it.

the stylist was BRI (pronounced br-eye, not brie cheese as i said it when i went in there) down at simrod hair in carlisle street, balaclava.

so, much thanks to ccm who recommended her. i'm thinking i might try her for colour next.

and after that, move onto the next suggestion.

i will work my way through the list.

other news:

beazley must go. that is all.

other other news:

the gigi turned 2 last sunday.



* this brings my tally of making professional funny people i admire laugh to a total of 3 for the year. there was danny katz earlier in the year - my quip was about jamie oliver and his double-nut choc torte - and ms fits, something inane about farting on someone. and we'd met about 2 minutes before. maybe it was a nervous laugh. (you look surprised. well, with me it's a class act all the way, baby.)