Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Mötoxication

What a Mötley mess.

Long time readers will recall my peculiar obsession with this man and his bandmates.

They don't often pop up in the news much any more, unless it's for doing daft things with firecrackers.

Oh Tommy. You do make me giggle sometimes.

Anyway.

It was with interest I read this story this morning.

Shame, Vince Neil. Shame. Have you learned nothing from your previous convictions? What if you'd hit someone?

But what's worse, is what I was more interested in about the story...

So shame, m_m, shame. Because what I found so tragic about this story is not that he was caught DUI, although that is terrible. No, what I found tragic is the photo that accompanied it.

What a slimy old porker he's turned into. Seriously Vince, weren't you listening to me back in 2005?
What a pity. He used to be such a pretty looking fella.

So here's my tuppence worth of advice for you Vince. T
wo words:

Rehab.

Diet.




He's the blonde one second from the left. What a pout.




And here's some advice for myself:


Stop.

Reading.

dailymail.co.uk.


I very much doubt that either Vince or I will take my advice...



Thursday, June 24, 2010

Barry

Well jiggedy jig jig jig - we have a new Prime Minister!

Our first female Prime Minister.

Who was born in Wales. Not that you could tell by her accent. She's assimilated into a true blue Aussie, if her heavy strine is anything to go by.

But she's Welsh. Born in Barry, Vale of Glamorgan, to be exact.

Which, if you are a fan of Gavin & Stacey (like I am), you'll be more familiar with as the hometown of the lovely Stacey, her mum, her uncle Bryn and best friend Nessa ("Ooooh... tidy").

I absolutely love that this is where our first female PM was born. I know that's a little strange of me and I'm sure many people are saying "well that's a bit shallow m_m, what about her politics"? To them I say, too bad. I'm not really a political person. Sure, I veer to the left quite a bit, but at the end of the day, I'm more interested in the person, what makes them tick and what little quirks they might have which I might find entertaining (and useful at trivia nights).

And "truth be told", "I'm not going to lie to you", our new PM sharing a hometown with the "genuine" (albeit fictional) Nessa is a quirk I find quite hilarious.

So hurrah for our first female PM. And by the way, snaps to her for knowing (and using) the name of every journalist at her press conference this morning. She's thorough. I reckon she'll make a damn good stab of the job.

And I'd really love for her to lean across to Tony Abbott in Question Time and say "I wanna do you slowly", à la Keating to Hewson.

However on a more important matter...

Since Jules is an ex-Barryite, what do you think the chances are of getting Smithy over here to rev up the Socceroos? Maybe then in 2014 they might actually make it past the first round.




Sunday, June 20, 2010

Let's Get This Party Started

Happy Birthday!

New readers to my blog will probably not have seen this old post... unless you've spent time trawling through my archives, in which case, I salute you. You're either very keen or have too much time on your hands. Pick whichever you prefer.

So.

Anyway.

The Birthday List.

I recently revisited this post myself and realised that back in 2006, I had committed a grave oversight and left a very important person from my youth off the list. Shame m_m. Shame.

I need to put this to rights.

From my first discovery of this lovely bass player
(you totally see where this is going, don't you?) and his bandmates at the age of 10, I was in youthful lust. When I discovered he shared my birthday, I was fully convinced we were soulmates.

Don't diss me.

We all had those fantasies as teenagers. I challenge any woman to prove that their teenage self never entertained thoughts of being "Mrs [insert name of favourite rock star here]. In my case, I wavered between several*. But this guy was always lurking in the top five. Hell, he still does.

So, in addition to wishing myself a Happy Birthday, I would also like to wish joyeux anniversaire to the (equal first**) hottest bass player of the 80s... John Taylor.




Look at that bone structure. He was soooo pretty. He's not quite so pretty now, but has developed into quite a handsome being and is still totally hot... so my teenage crush still stands.



So.

Happy Birthday Nigel. Sorry I forgot to invite you to the party in 2006, but you're invited this year. Hell, I'll even make you guest of honour.



BUT...


Nicole Kidman still isn't invited. She'd scare off all my friends with her freaky face and surly attitude.








* I have notebooks covered with scrawl to attest to the fact that at certain points in my early teens I was planning to be: "Mrs Steve Norman"; "Mrs John Taylor"'; "Mrs Martin Kemp"; "Mrs Jason Bateman"; "Mrs Patrick Swayze"; and "Mrs Andrew McCarthy. Typical Gemini. Always changing my mind.

** He's equal first with Martin Kemp. I have never been able, and will never be able to choose between the two for world's hottest bass player.


Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Weddings, Parties, Anything

I'm making the most of being able to blog while I can, because on Saturday I'm flying up to Sydney for a friend's wedding.

Yes.

Another bloody wedding.

And this one is the wedding of a friend who I'd never thought I'd see get married. He's a wonderful guy, but has always fancied himself as a bit of a playboy... at one point in our friendship he was dating about 3 girls at once. Needless to say I've never been even remotely tempted to turn our friendship into anything more... I barely tolerate that kind of behaviour in a friend, let alone a potential love interest.

But he is a good friend, and I am thrilled for him that he's put his Don Juan days behind him and is marrying a lovely, lovely girl who he's completely smitten with (and who, more importantly, doesn't put up with any bullshit).

So I am off to his wedding on Sunday afternoon to toast his future happiness. With probably just a glass of OJ or a soda water.

You see, I've decided that I'm not going to drink at this wedding. Another social experiment if you will. There are several reasons for this:

Firstly, most of the people going to this wedding tend to think of me as a party girl. Which is entirely fair, seeing as though most of our interactions in the past involved copious amounts of alcohol. But it's been 18 months or more since I've seen the majority of these people and I've changed. Quite a lot. I'm no longer the party girl I once was. Sure, I enjoy a drink with dinner or a few G&T's on a sunny afternoon, but my party-girl days are well behind me. And I like it that way.

Secondly, it's shaping up to be a full-on few days of catch-ups. Besides the wedding on Sunday, I have a lunch and dinner on the Monday and brunch, lunch, drinks and a dinner on the Tuesday. And somewhere in there I want to spend some quality time with my gorgeous godchildren. To do that effectively, I need to NOT be hungover. Tater in particular is a very demanding young man... you need all your wits about you when you're with him.

Thirdly, I'd like to observe these people in a haze-free state. See just what they're really like. See if I actually can put up with them for 8 or more hours. Hell, it might even be good fodder for future book or screenplay characters.

So we'll see how we go. I may have one glass of bubbles to toast the happy couple, but only if I feel like it. And providing it's decent stuff. I know what weddings are like - sometimes they pour out the most foul-tasting rubbish that is guaranteed hangover material... I'll be making sure I check out the label before tasting.

Following the Sydney season, I will be making a special guest appearance in Adelaide for my dad's best friend's 70th. He's a lovely guy and has been going through some rather arduous cancer treatment over the last six months, so I thought I'd make the effort and attend the fun. I will be drinking at that party though, because he always pulls out the top shelf reds and there's no way I can refuse a few glasses of that. Would be rude not to. Plus, the only thing I have to do the following day (which, incidentally, is my birthday) is have lunch with my family. Sometimes it's easier to deal with them when you're hungover... mostly because when I'm hungover I turn into this girl. Minus the cheerleading uniform and blonde hair of course.

Wish me luck!

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

I Want Me Some of These...

Procrastinating big time today. I have a presentation to work on for a client (I feel so grown up using that word... it never sounds right. What is wrong with me?!), but instead I'm futzing around making cups of tea and flicking through shuffle on my iTunes to find songs I can bop to.

"Ants in your pants" my granny would say. If it wasn't so bloody cold and miserable outside I'd take Kitty Lucy for a spin. But because it's only 12°C outside I'm staying put. Brrrrr. I've yet to turn the central heating on though, for which I am most proud. Keep that gas bill down.

Anyway. I've been following The Stiletto Diaries for a while now and today I was reminded of a post of hers from late May, which contained a link to a website which I've fallen in love with.

It's THIS.

Just to clarify, I'm not in love with the website. I'm in love with the products featured on it.

Handmade shoes.

HEAVEN.

Times like this I wish I still lived in the UK so I could pay Hetty Rose a visit.
To actually have a pair of pretty handmade shoes to properly accommodate all the lumps and bumps of my feet, yet still look amazing on a night out on the town, would be heaven.

You see, I have very odd shaped feet... twisted into oddity by years of dancing in poorly fitting toe shoes (point 6), not to mention an unhealthy predisposition in my early 20s to sky-high stilettos, which saw me tottering all over the cobblestone streets of London putting my feet through all manner of torture.

I'll admit, I haven't been very kind to my feet over the years. Now, in return, they are turning into painful old-lady feet, making it torture for me to wear any of my beautiful stilettos which are sitting in their boxes atop my wardrobe.

If I was a sensible creature, which let's face it, I am most certainly NOT, I could probably give them away, or sell them on eBay. However I'm determined that one day I may be able to wear them again, so atop my wardrobe they will stay for the time being.

Anyway. That's not the point. The point is Hetty Rose and her amazing handmade shoes. I want me some. Please.

I wonder if there is a similar service in Melbourne? I'll put that on the list to Google.

It also reminded me of the girl I once met at a party in London who was shoe designer. She kept me vastly entertained with the story of how she was commissioned by Nick Rhodes to make him some purple snakeskin boots. Apparently he answered the door in a shell suit and full make-up, causing her to do a bit of a comedic double take. Wouldn't you have loved to be a fly on the wall at that introduction?




Sunday, June 06, 2010

Lullaby

This afternoon I made up for yesterday afternoon's complete lack of culture, by going to see the fabulous ACO's Romantic Symphony at Hamer Hall, with my lovely friend and co-worker Kate. We went to the 2.30pm nanna matinee (mainly because she wasn't free to go tomorrow night), but discovered a fabulous secret... which has converted us to this particular session and which I will let you in on:

The balcony section of Hamer Hall is pretty much all C reserve from H row onwards. So it's cheaper. About $50 per ticket cheaper in fact. But that's not the secret. The secret is, that on a Sunday afternoon, the balcony section is never full. Only the first two rows were taken. So right before the orchestra came on stage, an usher came and invited everyone in H row to feel free to move down the front of the balcony to whichever seat took our fancy. An A reserve seat. Awesome.

So we moved down to the front row, just slightly off to the side. I had a perfect view of my favourite viola player in the world, who is not only cute and talented, but very entertaining to watch, as he clearly adores his job and has lots of fun. I also had the perfect view of the punters down below... always fascinating when you're at a classical music concert.

The first piece was a new piece written by Jonny Greenwood. Yeah. THAT Jonny Greenwood. It was a fab piece entitled Popcorn Superhet Receiver. Really cool. At one point all the violinists and violists were playing their instruments like guitars. Totally School of Rock.

The second piece was Schubert's Symphony No 8 in B Minor, Unfinished. Again, fab. Loved it. Love Schubert. Actually I love anything in B Minor. It's a key which sits well with me. Don't know why, but it always has. B Minor was always the scale I didn't mind practising. It perks me up.

Yes, I have a preferred key. Most people don't have such a thing.
I'm odd. You've only just worked that out?

The final piece, after interval, was Brahms' Symphony No 1 in C Minor, Op. 68. Now I adore Brahms. It always reminds me of my childhood, when my father would pop on a bit of Brahms to lull me to sleep if I was a bit overwrought. It always relaxes me. ALWAYS.

And today was no exception. In one particular section (which was adagio, so always a danger), I felt my eyelids growing heavy and my body start relaxing. I had to fight really hard to stay awake, but then decided to go with it and see what happened. And of course, I think I might have fallen asleep for a brief minute or two.

I wonder if it's a psychological thing? Or a body-sense memory thing? Is it something I can break or is it so deeply ingrained from my childhood that I can't change it?

I'm going to give it a go and see if I can. Because it's such lovely music I'd like to be awake for all of it.

In the meantime, note to self: avoid seeing performances of Brahms until the deep state of relaxation factor is cured. I might really nod off next time and start snoring. Not a good look.



Saturday, June 05, 2010

Stereotypes in the City 2

********** SPOILER ALERT **********

If you haven't yet seen Sex & The City 2 and plan on doing so, then STOP READING IMMEDIATELY.

If you have, or if you have no intention of doing so, then feel free to read on.



So.

$10.50 for the movie ticket.

$4.00 for the popcorn.

(I brought my water and chocolate from home).

146 minutes of four middle aged women on a giant screen later...

and it is blindingly clear that when it comes to stereotypes, time has stood still for the SATC gals.

Let's look at the positives first:

Yes, there was Aidan. And he looked hot. Smokin' hot.

Yes, there was the hot guy from Spooks. However this also falls into the negative category. But for now, let's focus on the fact that his beautiful face was up there on the big screen. May there be many more occurrences of this. He is a fine, fine actor and gorgeous to boot. Don't know what his missus was thinking.

Yes, there were plenty of great shoes and fab fashion.

Yes, there was Liza. With a 'Z'. And she was awesome.


Yes, there were all the quirky quips and one-liners that I loved about the TV series. In particular, I really liked Samantha's quip to Charlotte that she suffers through goes to kids' birthday parties... so the least Charlotte could do is find time for a girls' holiday. I'm saving that comment up for next time one of my friends with kids uses it as an excuse for not doing something.

And yes, they showed that these women might have it all (money, shoes, impossibly fabulous houses and men who adore them), but really, they're just like us.

That's a lie.

They're not just like us. Or not like me anyway... because I'm not a narrow minded American who thinks that every country in the world should be like America and fuck their individual culture.

Clearly that's the view of the GUY who wrote this piece of shit.

No wonder the United Arab Emirates refused to let them film there... if they even glanced at the script for a nano second, they would have been offended at the way they were being portrayed.

Almost every stereotype of the Middle East was lampooned in this film. For example if you ever wondered just how a Muslim woman wearing a niqāb might eat a bowl of fries, never fear. It's all condescendingly explained to you by Miranda, straight from her trusty Abu Dhabi guide book.


Although I have to say, Miranda was the most tolerable of the lot of them. I wanted to punch Samantha and her "I'm American, I can walk around your country half-naked if I want to" attitude... at the point in the film where she's at the souk and flashing around condoms at the locals I was sitting open mouthed in disgust.

And as much as I love Raza Jaffrey, I don't know how he could possibly bear to be in the scenes he was in playing the stereotyped character he was playing. If it wasn't for his acting ability, his character would have been totally laughable, but he turned it into a performance by a fine actor who had very, very little to work with in the way of a decent script.

Oh and the nanny. Of course they had to make the nanny a lesbian, didn't they? Because there's no way they could have a nanny who was beautiful and straight and didn't try and hit on the dad. I did have a small smirk at the Jude Law joke though. I wonder what Sienna thought?

Anyway, I have so much more to say on this film, but it's late and I need to go to bed because I'm working tomorrow. Or should I say today. It being about 12.36am.

Feel free to add your opinions if you've seen it... or not.

x




Friday, June 04, 2010

What's My Flava?*

My beautiful friends Bek, Janine and Kate all have a beautifully poetic, almost magical element to their writing style. Their writing holds me spellbound and makes me feel calm and serene. I would really like to be able to write in that style.

But no matter how hard I try I cannot sustain this type of prose.

I don't know why. Maybe I get bored with it. Maybe I'm just too blunt. Maybe I don't find it "real". I'm not talking about their writing not being real, I mean when I write stuff like that it doesn't seem to come from a real place within me.

My style seems to be snappy. Opinionated. Brash. Which I guess I am, but I do feel that I have a sensitive side that doesn't always get reflected in my writing.

I also seem to lose my train of thought and get sidetracked. I suppose that's just how my brain works.

Anyway. That's my pondering for the day.

What's on your mind?

x



* I never thought I'd see the day I'd use a Craig David reference in my blog. That's almost as shameful as my Tommy Lee confession.

Thursday, June 03, 2010

Pedantry

Wow... I sure excelled myself for the month of May. Plenty of posting. At this rate I'll double my target for the year! Yay me.

So... things I've been up to since I stopped doing the PR work. Honestly? Not a lot. I think I needed some time to get my head around the way it all ended, which was quite hurtful. I felt like my integrity had been attacked and I needed a little bit of time to heal from that. So I've been taking things slowly and not rushing headlong into anything new.

But, I have managed to put together a simple little fact sheet advertising my services in the areas of copy writing, copy editing and proofreading and I will commence emailing that out to all and sundry next week.

If you know of anyone who might like to receive it please let me know. I'm putting it out there far and wide into the universe to see what comes back. Or if you can think of some places for me to target (small business websites, etc) then suggestions would be most appreciated!

In the meantime, happy June and expect a return to normal blogging practices shortly.

x