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.