A Scotch Ghost With a Comedy Ringtone

This has to be one of the funniest things of the Christmas season... I've been giggling non-stop since I first saw it.

Well... maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but every time I watch it I'm in stitches. For the first 3 minutes or so anyway.

Enjoy.

You Say You Want A Resolution...

This time last year I was in Adelaide with my family and debating whether to stay in Sydney or make the move to Melbourne.

Well, we all know the decision made in that case.

I've been here in Melbourne nearly a year now and on the whole, it was a good decision. I feel more settled here, the work has been plentiful and well paid (albeit not exactly in the field I thought it would be) and my health has improved.

Good decision.

I'm now in the process of deciding what I want the next year to bring.

Besides getting financially stable whilst working less, which is a definite goal after several years of working my butt off for not that great a financial reward, I'm still deciding.

Reading more is on the list.

Spending more time outdoors is another.

Any other ideas?

Drafted

There are a few posts I've just discovered in draft, which I'm going to attempt to finish and post before the clock strikes midnight tomorrow.

That's if I can remember exactly what my point was in starting these posts.



Let's see if I can.

How Much Is Too Much?

One of the strange and amazing things about facebook is its ability to put you in contact with people you haven't seen or heard from for years... you know, old school mates, relatives you're a bit crap at keeping in touch with because you leave it to your mother to send the Christmas cards, etc...

On the whole, its been pretty good finding out what happened to these people from my childhood. Obviously, most of them are married with kids, although there are a few who, like me, have chosen a less traditional route and remain single, roaming the globe and focussing on their careers. So its quite varied, which is nice. And some of these people have achieved amazing things and have some quite inspirational stories to share.

But one old school friend has gone beyond what I think is the boundary of public sharing and I'm not sure how I feel about it. This friend (whom I actually haven't seen since we were about 13 given we went to different high schools and never kept in touch), recently posted a note on facebook entitled "Know Me", which was basically a history of her life. This note was quite explicit, giving all the intimate details of her relationships with her family and partners and detailing events and traumas which have happened to her over the years. And we're talking major traumas - rape, bashing, cults, etc etc. Heavy stuff.

I'm sure she had her own reasons for writing it and maybe it was cathartic for her to publicly air her skeletons and share it all with the world. But is facebook really the appropriate forum for this kind of information?

I guess there are a lot of things that I have vented about on this blog over the years, but then there aren't that many people who read it and even fewer who actually know the real me (so to speak). And those that do probably know most things about me anyway. But I don't think that I would be so explicit with details on facebook. Not that I've suffered even 1/100th of the things she's been through.

And that brings me to another thing which bothered me about her post. In it, she details a history of violent and abusive relationships with men... she's been married a couple of times and one partner deliberately caused her to suffer a miscarriage (the details of that are too disturbing to post here). Now all that information was a little too much for starters, but secondary to that I began to wonder what is it about this woman, that all these terrible things have happened to her over the course of 38 years?

I'm not saying she's brought it on herself but I do think that what we put out into the world comes back to us... our beliefs and ideas about ourselves are often the cause of our emotional and physical problems and feed into the kind of choices we make in relationships.

Anyway, it got me thinking. Which maybe she intended, maybe not.

It really does all boil down to choice doesn't it? I've made some not-so-great choices in my life but on the whole I think I've done ok. And (touch wood) I've never experienced horrors like this woman has. Luck or the power of positivity?

Something to ponder as the new year approaches.

Six in Eleven

At the beginning of this month I vowed to try and better the number of blog posts after last year's dismal efforts. The target is 36.

Currently I'm sitting on 29. Well, 30 if you count this one but I don't know that this one should count, since its not actually a proper post, more like a self-administered smack upside the head.

Anyway, there are 11 days left in the year and I still need to do another 6 posts.

What do you reckon the odds are that I'll achieve this goal?

In theory, it is possible. However there are a number of, shall we say, roadblocks which may hinder my progress:

Firstly, I currently have a house guest. Which is great - he's a good mate I haven't seen for almost a year, but he doesn't leave until Tuesday morning.

Secondly, the Mater arrives on Tuesday afternoon for a week and I will be expected to accompany her on various visits to a seemingly endless number of relatives.

Thirdly, I'm working all day tomorrow and most days between Christmas and New Year.

So we'll see what happens.

But don't hold your breath. I'm certainly not holding mine. Sorry, bit of a defeatist attitude. I will try to make it to 36 though.

x

Things I Learned From Watching Glee

There are a few...

1. Metaphors are important.
2. The square root of 4 is rainbows.
3. Chicks don't have prostates.
4. Ballads are male ducks.
5. You can't always get what you want.
6. You can in fact, audition for the role of kicker
7. Water boarding and living with hepatitis is hard
8. Jews carry genetic disorders.
9. Sunglasses are sexy... you know... rappers.
10. You and your wife/husband don't have to have red hair to have creepy ginger kids
11. It's possible to dress like a grandmother and a toddler at the same time.
12. Always wax your eyebrows from underneath.
13. Never fake a pregnancy.
14. Being part of something special makes you special.
15. Hot tub water makes sperm swim faster.
16. After dentists, obstetricians have the highest rate of suicide among medical professionals. But bonsai trees help.
17. Iron tablets keep your strength up while you're menstruating.
18. You don't have to be trained to be a nurse in a public school.
19. Everybody loves disco.
20. Status is like currency. When your bank account is full, you can get away with doing just about anything.
21. Every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion.
22. They say it takes more certainty than talent to be a star. Just look at John Stamos.
23. If you have morning sickness while pregnant, your baby won't turn out to be a mongoloid
24. The Jamaican bobsled team was a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig longshot
25. Pork is completely kosher
26. Having two gay dads is the key to getting your way in life
27. Being pushed into a runoff lagoon at a dairy farm causes mysophobia
28. Papa Don't Preach is indeed a child-appropriate, soothing lullabye
29. The only life worth living is the one you are passionate about.
30. Never let anything distract you from winning.
31. Caning works!
32. The more confident you are, the less you stutter.
33. There’s not much of a difference between a stadium full of cheering fans and an angry crowd screaming abuse at you. They’re both just making noise.
34. Gayvention is a gay intervention
35. That black shiny thing is called a "piano”
36. Unitards are jock chic.
37. Bulimia is a very messy serious disease.
38. If you want a good review, you need to show your over-the-shoulder boulder holder.
39. Bert and Ernie were not just roommates.
40. Making a smoothie out of beef bones breaks your juicer.
41. You can get a passport and run for office even if you're born in the Panama canal zone.
42. The two things that America needs right now is sunshine and optimism...and also angels.
43. Spanish is a dying language.
44. Sharks can really fracture spinal cords.
45. There is a cool epilepsy.
46. Sex is not dating.
47. William McKinley is a failed president.
48. Hairography works best when you act like you're being tasered.
49. You can get oesophagus transplants.
50. Deaf racism is a serious issue.
51. Don't Stop Believin' is the #1 most downloaded song on iTunes.
52. If you're truly skilled, you can sneak anything out of a store between your knees. Even a birthday cake, with the candles still lit.
53. Vitamin C boosts energy levels and brightens the complexion
54. Fear is like mother’s milk to children... without it, their bones don't grow.
55. Eating really big tacos will give you a baby bump.
56. Not having a gag reflex will turn out to be a gift.

I ♥ Glee - Part 2

It has been documented before... I am a gleek. And proud. This show is right up my alley. Its like 90210 meets Dawson's Creek meets something politically incorrect. With songs. Daggy 80s pop songs. Big bellowing musical theatre songs. Heart rendering ballad-y songs. In short pretty much every song which is already on my iPod.

(I have of course, had to download all their versions though.)

There are so many reasons (aside from the musical numbers) to watch this show, but for my money, the main reasons are:




Matthew Morrison. Oh man. If my choir teacher in high school had looked like him I wouldn't have been able to sing a note. Sooooo hot. And very talented... what we call a 'triple threat' (singer/dancer/actor). Well he can triple threat me anytime he likes. *sigh*

His character is just gorgeous. And he has the cutest storyline with Emma, the mysophobic guidance counsellor - they're just so darn adorable together!




Jayma Mays, who plays the aforementioned Emma, is fantastic too. And her character has some cracker lines... my favourite so far being from the Acafellas episode...

They say it takes more certainty than talent to be a star... I mean look at John Stamos.


True. Sooooo hilariously true.


However, if we're going to discuss Glee characters with cracker lines (which I am, seeing as this is my blog), then this woman has to take the trophy.



Jane Lynch has always been one of those actresses who pops up in the most amazing films, yet up until I started watching Glee I would be struggling to remember her name. She is an absolute corker in this show. How can she not be with lines like:

You think this is hard? Try being waterboarded, that's hard!

Your resentment is delicious.

Well, I have a phoner in a couple of minutes. That's an interview. On the telephone. With a major media outlet. I'll probably do it on my iPhone.

You know caning has fallen out of fashion in the United States. But ask anyone who has safely walked the immaculate sidewalks of Singapore after winning an international cheerleading competition and they'll tell you one thing. Caning works. And I think its about time we did a little more of it right here. And to all those nay-sayers out there who say: "That's illegal. You can't strike children on their bare buttocks with razor sharp bamboo sticks." Well to them I say: "Yes. We. Cane." And that's how Sue 'C's it.

I'm reasonably confident that you will be adding revenge to the long list of things you're no good at, right next to being married, running a high school Glee Club and finding a hairstyle that doesn't make you look like a lesbian. Love ya like a sista!

This is what we call a total disaster ladies. I'm going to have to ask you to smell your armpits. [they do] That's the smell of failure and it's stinking up my office. I'm revoking your tanning privileges for the rest of the semester.

I hear people say, "That's not how I define marriage". Well, to them I say, "Love knows no bounds." Why can't people marry dogs? I'm certainly not advocating intimacy with your pets. I, for one, think intimacy is no place in marriage. Walked in on my parents once, and it was like seeing two walruses wrestling. So, WOOF! on Prop 15, Ohio. And that's how Sue 'C's it.

Let me break this down for you, okay? I empower my Cheerios to be champions. Do they go onto college? I don't know, I don't care. Should they learn Spanish? Sure, if they wanna become dishwashers and gardeners. But if they want to be bankers and lawyers and captains of industry, the most important lesson they could possibly learn is how to do a round off.

No way. They [wheelchair ramps] are what I call lazy-makers. They discourage our able-bodied students from getting their proper exercise by using the stairs!

This character is one of the best on TV at present - male or female. And she's not just a one-dimensional evil character... we've seen her heart get broken and we've seen her obvious adoration and care for a sister with Down's Syndrome. There's a lot more to this character than meets the eye and Jane Lynch plays her perfectly.

And if her name is not read out as the winner of her category at the Golden Globes on 17 January, than there is something seriously wrong with the world.

Shame, Russell T, Shame

My love of all things David Tennant and subsequently, Doctor Who has been well documented on this blog. Really. No, really. It has.

So when I watch an episode, I'm a tad, ummmm, how shall we say... attentive? Studious? Alert?

Also, given I watch most shows which I download, on my laptop, I have the opportunity to pause, look closely and rewind if something requires a second look. And then I can jump on the internet if something needs verifying.

Shut up. I know that's weird. Its just what I do, ok?

Anyway that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is that in the latest episode of Doctor Who, The Waters of Mars, Russell T Davies has reverted to sheer laziness and blatant plagiarism.

And I for one, am less than impressed.

To give you a bit of context...

At the beginning of the episode it has just dawned on our lovely Doctor who his new friends actually are. So there's a little flashback to articles he's read on the internet about them... first off-world colonists in history, very first humans on Mars, yada, yada, yada.

And then he starts to identify them individually. First up, Captain Adelaide Brooke, played by the always fabulous Lindsay Duncan. And gosh, golly, the Doctor has just realised its 2059 and that's when she died. Well, according to the split-second cut to his memory of a website containing her obituary, anyway.

So then he goes around the circle, so to speak. Next up? Deputy Edward Gold. Played by our very own Peter O'Brien. And in his own Aussie accent too (although it is a slightly moderated one... he is quite a bit more well-spoken than he was in his Neighbours or Flying Doctors days which is understandable given how much time he spends in the UK. Plus, he's from South Australia. We're a little less 'strine' than our cousins from the Eastern states.)

So great. Hello Peter-as-Ed, nice to meet you.

And this is where I start to get picky.

There's another split-second cut to the Doctor's memory of Ed's obituary.



Have a read. Please. Read it carefully. Looks good, huh? The character is an Aussie; Peter O'Brien was born in South Australia, so Russell T. Davies, or a member of his team has obviously done his/her homework and researched how behind Australia was/is in the space race, where an Australian-born astronaut might have studied, etc. Snaps to them for being thorough you might say.

Or, you could say shame on you Russell T. Davies and your team. SHAME ON YOU.

Because you've simply lifted Andy Thomas' biog straight from Wikipedia.

And simply changed the names and a couple of the dates.

As soon as I saw the St Andrew's and St Peter's references it waved a great, stonking, red flag for me. Having grown up in Adelaide and having met Andy when I visited the Kennedy Space Center when I lived in the States, I knew a bit about him. Enough to send me straight to Wikipedia to confirm my suspicions when I saw that clip, anyway.

I wonder what Andy Thomas thinks of this? On one hand, he might be chuffed. He's made it into an episode of Doctor Who. Isn't that every boy's (or girl's) dream? I know it was mine until David Tennant announced he was leaving and they replaced him with that fetus, Matt Smith. But I digress. I was discussing what Andy Thomas might think of this plagiarism. I wonder if he's a little vexed by the fact that details of his life have been attributed to a character who bears no resemblance to him, other than the fact that they both work in space.

As further proof of my obsession of the minutiae, another thought that struck me was how that plagiarism would fit with the standard clause at the end of the closing credits saying "The events and characters depicted in this motion picture are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead, or events, is purely coincidental". Surely that clause prevents you from doing something like this.

Until I discovered that there is no such clause at the end of the credits of Doctor Who. So presumably that rule does not apply to them and they are free to do whatever they want.

Interesting.

Well, I thought so, anyway.

However I still think Russell should hang his head in shame for being so lazy (or employing such lazy co-writers) that they just copy and paste from Wikipedia instead of creating a biography from scratch. You know, imagining something. Which is what writers are supposed to do. Isn't it?

Or have the age of the internet and the budget cuts at the BBC changed all that?

Let's hope Stephen Moffat isn't as lackadaisical in his approach to the finer details. Or I shall have to write another sternly worded blog post.

In the meantime, I anxiously await the End of Time and the return of the wonderful John Simm as The Master.



.







Gosh, that was a bit lengthy wasn't it? Good on you if you managed to read right through to the end.

x

C*nts Are Still Running the World

Well did you hear, there’s a natural order.
Those most deserving will end up with the most.
That the cream cannot help but always rise up to the top,
Well I say: Shit floats.
If you thought things had changed,
Friend you’d better think again,
Bluntly put in the fewest of words,
Cunts are still running the world.

This eloquent piece of Brit Pop was the encore to this evening's marvellous night at the Forum seeing one of my most favourite performers:

"I like pashing. Both the word and the... activity."

Bless his cottons - he'd picked up a Rough Guide to Melbourne for a bit of light reading on the plane and was testing out the Melbourne expressions on us. Pashing appeared to be his favourite one.

The song whose lyrics appear above was his encore and was directed at what's going on in Copenhagen right now.

It was rather apt.

I mean even our own K-Rudd, whom I proudly wore a t-shirt for, hit a new low today with his comment at the unveiling of the new Australian made Toyota Hybrid...

"It's one of those days when we should be saying 'Oh what a feeling, Australia'."

Douchebag. I mean, really. Kevin. Kev. Mate. I know it was probably one of your monkeys who wrote that but you didn't HAVE to say it. It made you sound like a tool.

It made you sound like Tony Abbott. That's the kind of fool remark he'd make.

Shame, K-Rudd, shame.

But enough of numpty politicians. Yeah. Jarvis summed it up rather nicely.

And treated us to a good bit of chat and song. I think a few of the old Pulp fans might have been a bit disappointed... I was hoping to get Sorted for E's and Wizz but upon reflection it's probably just as well. Last time I saw Jarvis (which was when he was with Pulp and I was living in London) I was, ummmm, shall we say, Well Sorted for E's and Wizz, so that song had slightly more significance that it possibly would have had this evening.

Guess I've grown up a bit. As has Jarvis.

He still bloody rocks though.

Sorted.

Matching

I had vowed (to myself... I rarely make my vows public anymore), that after last year's dismal number of blog posts that I would try and better the number of posts this year.

I have less than a month to do that and I need to do at least another 10 posts.

Best I get my arse into gear.

There are several topics I had wanted to cover, which for the sake of acting as a reminder to myself, I shall list here. They may be in my own personal shorthand, so don't worry if they don't make sense, they're purely for my benefit:

• Glee
• Patrick
• Schwinn vs Electra
• Four colour new colour
• Shiteley and Brears

That's all I can think of for the moment.

In the meantime, I've just started reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo... how good???

Stay tuned...

Don't f*** with Begbie...

In my opinion Robert Carlyle is one of the finest actors of the last 20 years, both in film and TV. He's a scary f***er, sure, but he's a damn good actor.

This article makes for very interesting reading. Nothing new, but interesting nonetheless.

I was particularly interested in reading his views on how very disheartening it is to keep slogging away being an actor when only a handful of people see your work.

I feel a bit like that myself at the moment (not that I'd put myself on the same level as him). But our audience numbers for all of our shows thus far have been less than 20 per show in a room that has a capacity of 100. Tonight will be a smidgen better as one of our lovely cast (who happens to be a primary school teacher... he teaches first graders, which is enough to melt your heart) has all the staff from his school coming along to see the show. Thirty people in one group. Impressive.

I on the other hand have only had 2 friends come to my show. My wonderful flatmate (who did bring along two of her friends); and a friend who is coming tonight (I hope!) who is visiting from Ireland. That's IRELAND people. I can get friends along from the other side of the world, but friends who live locally? Forget about it.

People say they'll come and see your show, but they rarely do. I've got so-called-good-friends who have NEVER seen me perform, despite living in the same city as me.

Quite frankly, its pathetic. And I don't just mean personally for me, but pathetic for the industry.

It appalls me that people would seemingly rather sit home and watch an old, tired, misogynistic piece of crap like Hey Hey Its Saturday (screened on a Wednesday - go figure) than go and support the live entertainment scene. And really, how do we expect our country to advance culturally if crap like that continues to be produced? Its sickening. And I'm not the only one who thinks that. The wonderful Ms Fits (whose Friday blog used to be a highlight of my week), agrees with me.

I know we're in tough financial times, but really, it doesn't have to cost that much. Those of you with kids - negotiate with a mate or another mum at school to babysit your kid while you go out one night, then the following week do the same for her. There are heaps of cheap shows on which are good quality entertainment - you don't need to be forking out $100+ to see Jersey Boys or Chicago. Our show at Fringe is only $20. $15 if you're a concession. And you don't have to have dinner as well - you can eat before you go out. And take public transport. In fact, I reckon its totally possible to go out for a night to see some live entertainment for less than $40 all up.

And you'll feel much more culturally enriched for it. There's nothing culturally enriching or even mildly amusing about Daryl Somers and his bunch of has-been cronies.

Here endeth the rant anyway.

And if you're in Melbourne, come along to this tonight or tomorrow.

Please.

Shhh! The Baby's Asleep!

A couple of weeks ago, my lovely flatmate Kate and I went to the Royal Melbourne Show. Neither of us had been to a show for years - in fact I would be hard pressed to tell you when I last went... I was probably 17.

So we set off on a Friday morning, with a strict code of no dagwood dogs, no scary rides and no showbags over $15. High on the to-do list were the diving pigs, the wine tasting and the Bertie Beetle showbags.

We had a lovely day... albeit a slightly disturbing one.

For starters, there were bogans galore, all with at least five children each (I'm sorry, but this country is never going to advance culturally if it's only the bogans procreating in massive numbers*) and I did wonder how much of the baby bonus/stimulus package was used by one couple to purchase the twenty five showbags (at an average price of $20) and mountains of junk food they'd bought for their kids, but that wasn't the most disturbing part of the day.

Nor was it the line in the show program which alerted us to the fact that at 10am in the DJR there would be "Obedience Trials - Bitches", which I initially took to be some kind of misogynistic segment in a beauty pageant.

No, the most disturbing part of the day occurred when we hit the arts and crafts pavillion. Whilst wandering around the cake decorating area, we happened upon this highly unsettling piece of cake decorating artistry:






Granted, it is very beautifully decorated. As the daughter of a professional cake decorator, I can appreciate such artistry.

It's just the choice of subject. If I'd requested that my mum make a christening cake and she rolled out this little corker, I would send her to the nearest maximum security twilight home immediately.

How would you cut it up? And would it be wrong to request the face?

Wrong. Wrong. WRONG.

And it won a prize. Even more disturbing.






.

* Yes, I'm well aware that I have not yet contributed to the population growth, however I am still trying to find a man who meets the criteria for fathering my children. It is a work-in-progress.

Buffy the Baby Slayer (and other random observations)

Congratulations to Buffy!

Not just because she and Freddie have finally had their little bundle of joy, but because they've bucked the Hollywood trend of giving the tyke a ridiculous moniker and instead named her Charlotte Grace.

Lovely. Simple. And, like the Sheen boys, will probably be considered quite unusual at Beverly Hills High.

I'll bet that in a few years time young Sparrow Madden will be berating his parents with "why couldn't you have given me a normal name like Charlotte Prinze?".

I'm thinking of taking bets on what Heidi and Seal will call their next one. Which will probably be born any day now. Did you see her at the Emmys? Woooooaaaaah mama! That was a big bump.

On a slight sidetrack - Emmys. The start of the real awards season. I love it.

Doogie Howser did a great job... I was busy scribbling away at notes to assist me in my MC duties at Britney's wedding. Not that I'm going to sing or anything.

Acceptance speech of the night though goes to Kristin Chenoweth. Obviously her agent's not working hard enough, so she's had to take matters into her own hand.

Every year the In Memorium segment brings me to tears (its easily done). This year even more so, partly because the wonderful Sarah McLachlan and more so because of Patrick Swayze. He'll get a whole blog post to himself at some point, but for now, just putting it out there that a little piece of my heart went with him last Monday.

For now though, I'm heading to bed. Although it is tempting to stay up, write some more and watch the final episode of Gilmore Girls. I never knew they'd worked Rory going to cover the Obama campaign into the storyline. Its rather interesting.

Must. Stop. Watching. And. Go. To. Bed.

Aaaarrrgh!

Learning to Love... is it worth it?

Yesterday was such a great day. My lovely flattie and I went to the Royal Show (something I haven't done since I was a kid) and had an awesome time.

[Expect a post on the number of bogans with more than 4 children as well as the confirmation that we really are the fattest nation on earth in the coming days. Both those facts were rammed home walking around the showgrounds yesterday. Astonishing.]

Then last night we went to one of my favourite Melbourne bars for a catch up with my lovely friend Kitty Kat who was visiting from Sydders.

Kitty Kat and I haven't seen each other since January, so it was lovely to catch up and discuss potential outfits for Britney's wedding which is less than a month away. The wedding discussion eventually branched out away from frock and shoes and on to fellow guests and who we'd like to be seated with at the reception. We both would prefer to be sat next to a hot, eligible bachelor, but I highly doubt whether there will be any such creatures there. We were both emphatic however that there was one person we did NOT want to be seated next to; thankfully we've now discovered he's not been invited.

This man is the husband of a woman who used to be a very good friend of ours. We'll call her Kate, because (a) that's her name; (b) she will probably never read this blog; and (c) even if she does, I will happily stand by every statement I make. Kate used to be a very close friend of mine, the bride's and Kitty Kat's. I say used to, because none of really have any contact with her anymore, purely because of her husband.

What's wrong with the man? Where do I begin?

The first time I met him was about a week after I'd graduated from drama school. I was full of that 'just-graduated-the-world-is-my-oyster' excitement and was having dinner at Kitty Kat's sister's house. Kate brought Rob (yes, that's his real name too) along to meet us. We were introduced and Kate mentioned in the introduction that I'd just graduated from drama school and wasn't that exciting. Rob's first ever comment to me was not, "congratulations" or "nice to meet you" or "good luck with that". No, it was:

"You'll never make it as an actress"

Well, you can imagine my reaction. I gave him one of my best withering looks, retorted with "how would you know, you've only just met me" and flounced off into the kitchen to pour myself another glass of wine.

But that's not the only reason I dislike the man.

Let me give you a little more background.

Kate was one of the most inspirational, successful women I knew. She had a great job in HR, earned really good money, owned her own apartment on the North Shore, had travelled the world, was fun to party with, attractive, bubbly, great with advice, a fabulous cook, spent weekends sailing on the harbour and by the age of 35 had everything you could possibly want except a husband and children.

Then she met Rob. He was in his 40s, working a dead end casual job, studying for a degree which had so far taken him 10+ years to even get halfway through and (to get a little Jane Austen on you), he had little or no prospects. Honestly don't know what she saw in him. He wasn't even attractive. Unless you like the overweight, unkempt slobby types. But Kate liked him. And started dating him. And a few weeks into their relationship, she fell pregnant.

Which is where it all started to go pear shaped.

Now...

Had she decided that she would keep the baby but ditch him for being a bit of a no-hoper then she would have had our full backing. The girls (and the guys) in our little gang were all willing to pitch in and help out with babysitting, shopping, cleaning, moral support, whatever she needed.

But she decided to stay with him. So we tried to be supportive. We tried to mask our feelings for this neanderthal of a man, who had by this time lost his casual job, had stopped studying and was living off her. We tried. We really did. I put all those years of drama school to the test and acted my little socks off pretending to get along with the man.

But just before the baby was born, they got married. At the registry office. Without telling us. In fact she didn't tell us until a good two or three months after the event and only as an off-the-cuff remark at a lunch we were having at someone's house.

Which was quite upsetting. Firstly because she didn't tell us (thereby giving us an opportunity to talk her out of it) and secondly because she'd married a man who was JUST NOT WORTHY.

This is a man who decided that when Kate was in labour, he'd get sick. So sick that he'd be in a hospital bed next to her and unable to support her through the birth of their child. I'm sorry but if that was my husband, I would be grabbing the nearest sharp object and threatening him with castration if he didn't step up to the plate and be a man and HOLD MY BLOODY HAND WHILE I'M GIVING BIRTH TO YOUR CHILD YOU PILLOCK. But Kate excused him.

The they ended up moving to the country, because he had a chance of a job there. So they sold the flat, Kate gave up her great HR job, they moved to the back of beyond, bought a house, and guess what? He lost the job. Unemployed again. So she had to find a job to support them.

And then she got pregnant again.

He was at home, not working, so you'd think he would've looked after the house and the kids. But no. That wasn't his thing. She had to do all that. F*** only knows what he did all day, but it certainly wasn't making a worthy contribution to the world or his family.

But there was always an excuse for him. He wasn't well, the job wasn't really what it was made out to be, blah blah blah. Excuses.

The last time I saw Kate was a couple of years ago when we had a big girls' Sunday lunch at posh restaurant. All the married-with-kids girls left their babies with the husbands (some of whom got together with all the kids for a 'the-girls-are-out-so-let's-stick-the-kids-in-the-backyard-and-we'll-watch-the-footy' afternoon) and it was going to be our chance to catch up without having any little people interrupting our champagne consumption and grown-up conversation.

Kate even came up from the country for the weekend for it.

But Rob decided about half an hour before lunch that he didn't want to watch the kids, as was planned. He wanted to go sailing. So she had to bring them along.

Now, they weren't bad kids. They weren't good, but they were kids. Painful little toddlers. They didn't want to be at a posh restaurant having to behave anymore than we (or the wait staff) wanted them there.

But Kate bowed to Rob's needs yet again and gave in. And put a dampener on an otherwise lovely afternoon.

ANYWAY...

That's a lot of background. I'll forgive you if you skipped through it.

The crux of the topic is, that when Kitty Kat and I were discussing our mutual dislike of Rob last night and remarking on what a shame it was that Kate had chosen this ape and kept making excuses for his behaviour, Kitty Kat told me something which resonated quite sharply with me.

She said that she'd once confronted Kate about how Rob had offended her by asking inappropriate questions about why she was still single, and that Kate had sighed and said "I know. He's awful. But I've learned to love him".

LEARNED TO LOVE HIM.

WTF????

Surely that's no basis for marriage.

Surely you should love someone BEFORE you marry them. Unless you're of a culture where arranged marriages are still the norm, of course.

A successful, independent woman should love a man before she marries him. Not have to learn to love him. And she should never just settle for someone because she's getting to an age where she feels that if she doesn't do it now, she might miss out on the whole marriage and kids experience.

Or am I just being idealistic and naïve?

I don't know, I just think that agreeing to marry someone you don't love in the hope that you will one day learn to love them is not only sad and wrong, but a terrible example to set for your children.

Call me crazy, but I have vowed I will never get married unless I am head over heels in love with the man. I'd much rather be single, happy and in control of my own destiny than be married to someone who didn't add to my life (which I reckon is a pretty damn good one) and instead sucked all the joy out of it.

And if I never meet that person and never get married and never have kids then so be it. There's nothing wrong with being single and I'm a bit over people who act like something's missing in my life because I'm not with a man. I have freedom. And choice. And I can sleep in if I want without having to negotiate a deal on who will get up with the kids at 6am.

But if I meet the right man and we decide to get married then, yes. I'll do it. But only if I love him.




At least none of us will have to put up with Rob at the wedding. But it's a real shame Kate won't be there because she really was good fun at a party.

And its even more of a shame that we've lost her as a friend because she made a poor choice for a husband.

I ♥ Glee

It's true.

I'm a Gleek.

I fell in love with the pilot months ago and just watched it again tonight. My VCR (yes, I'm old school, I don't have IQ or recordable DVD yet) has already been programmed for Thursdays at 7.30pm on Channel 10 indefinitely.

I'm not sure what it is I love about it most. Mercedes and her "Hell to the no! Look, I'm not down with all this background singing nonsense. I am Beyoncé... I ain't no Kelly Rowland!" or her "Whatchoo bringin to the table Justin Timberlake?" is my current fave character.

Although I think it might just be the music. From Rachel's audition of "On My Own" from Les Miserables (a pet fave of mine) and Finn's shower rendition of REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling", to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing"... well, its unashamedly awesome.


I totally ♥ Glee.


Gleek and proud.

What's In A Name?

Taking a moment out from the morning's tasks (ironing outfits to go into a gift basket for a 3 year old celebrity child who is currently living in my city while her mum films a movie), I just HAD to comment on today's news.

No, not the fact that the Samoans are now driving on the left instead of the right (what kind of government springs that on their poor constituency?).

Nor the fact that Annie Leibovitz is in waaaaay more debt than I could ever contemplate (US$24 million... how the hell do you rack up debts like that??).

No, this morning's news which I just HAD to comment on was the birth of the newest Richie-Madden offspring.

Sparrow James Midnight Madden. Sparrow. I'm serious. Really. People.com don't lie.

I don't understand. Harlow was such a nice name. Unusual, sure, but pretty. Sparrow is just downright mean. What happens if he's not even the least bit sparrow-like when he grows up? What happens if he turns out to be a big ol' boof like his old man? The only consolation is that at least he'll grow up in Hollywood surrounded by the likes of other strangely named celebrity offspring like Zuma Stefani Rossdale and Bandit Lee Way...

Its like the woman I once worked with who named her child Grace. This woman was fat and dumpy, her husband was fat and dumpy... what in the name of sense made her think that her child would be anything other than fat and dumpy? Seriously, the kid would come into the office and stump around like a sumo wrestler. Nothing Grace-ful about her.

Let's hope none of the other Hollywood mums about to give birth try to out-do Nicole on the name stakes...

Everyone should take a leaf out of Charlie Sheen's book. Max and Bob. Great names. And guaranteed to be highly unusual at Beverly Hills High.

What Would He Do?

After a busy start to the day (up at 6.45am to drive lovely flattie to the airport for her holiday to the red centre, followed by a bit of Ikea shopping and a Sunday work shift), I collapsed on the sofa about 4pm with a cup of tea and switched on the TV for a bit of mind-numbing chillaxing.

Sunday afternoon is not known for being much chop in the TV department (unless you have Foxtel, which I refuse to have on account of I'd never get off the sofa and I'd end up one of those horribly obese people who have to be lifted out of the house via a crane), so I was prepared for football, Sunday Arts or that dreadful holiday show with Frankie J Holden and his missus where they take free trips to caravan parks and bark on about how wonderful it is.

However, it was not to be.

Imagine my delight when this lovely fella popped up on Channel Ten:





This truly was one of the great series of the 80s. The man made science and math seem like useful skills to have. Not that I bothered learning either skill, being more artistically inclined, but then I never wanted to be MacGyver. Unlike some people I know...


No, I just admired the man for his talents. And good looks.




Oh come on, admit it. EVERYONE had a little bit of a crush on MacGyver. Even boys. What that man could do with a swiss army knife, a roll of gaffa and some chewing gum was amazing. And he was hot.

HOT.

The teenage m_m would have gladly grown up to be Mrs MacGyver.

Stop laughing. There are worse things to have wanted to be. Like Mrs T.

So anyway, I find out there's been talk of a movie being made. Hurrah, I think! A whole 100+ minutes of MacGyver action and excitement and hotness.

Bring it on.

Until... I stumbled across a snap of how Richard Dean Anderson has aged.




MacGyver hot? MacGyver not.

Oh dear.

How are they going to work that into the script?

Time really is a cruel mistress sometimes.

But snaps to Channel Ten for programming this gem in an otherwise dull timeslot. May I tune in again next week?

Where's the Dignity?

This really is one of those shake your head, sigh and say "what's the world coming to" kind of moments.

Not so much because the man was a reality TV contestant who was obviously desperate for his five minutes of fame or that his wife-of-five-minutes was a former Playboy model. As tacky as all that is, that's not why this particular case piqued my interest. And its not because he's pretty much confirmed his guilt at the crime by committing suicide, which is pretty weak in my book. No. What fascinated me about this case was that:

"Investigators used the serial numbers on her breast implants to identify her, the Orange County district attorney's office said."

That poor girl. Fancy only being able to be identified by the serial numbers on your breast implants.

What's the world coming to indeed...

This Is How It Went...

Conviction is a wonderful thing.

Let's just check on what we planned last night:

• Freo will have their game face on.
  
  Check. They sure did. Pearce was outstanding early on and McPharlin and Pavlich stepped up to the plate like the legends they are.
  
  
  
• The Bombers will be plagued by injuries and lose their mettle.
  
  Check. The loss of Lucas and Lloyd, amongst others was always going to be a big factor. A few of the youngsters tried their hardest but just couldn't sustain a comeback.
  
  
  
• Freo will score a rare, yet convincing win, to keep them safely away from the wooden spoon and the Bombers will drop back to 9th place on the ladder.
  
  Convincing? Well, I reckon 54 points is pretty bloody convincing. Although the Bombers still hold 8th place, it all comes down to next week, which is virtually an elimination final. Excitement, much.
  
  
  
• Which, after tonight's solid 42 pt win over the Tigers, will put my boys in the 8.
  
  We're not there yet, but if we win next week... WHICH WE WILL, we'll be into the finals.
  
  
  

And that's all I'm asking.


Oh and gorgeous scene on the 12:16pm train from Yarraville to Flinders St today:

Seddon station. On jumps Dad, Master Six and Master Four. All kitted out in Saints guernseys/sweatshirts/scarves, with Master Six and Master Four's cheeks painted in stripes of black, white and red. Adorable.

South Kensington station. On jumps Mum and Master Five. Mum dressed casually, Master Five decked out in Kangaroos guernsey and cap, clutching a blue and white flag which is about twice his size in one hand, and Mum's hand in the other. Super adorable.

Masters Six and Four eye up the new addition to the carriage, then Master Four takes a step forward, grabs his scarf, raises his arm and proclaims:


"SAINTS ARE GONNA RIP YOU APART TODAY!!!"

Cue a few raised eyebrows and giggles from fellow passengers.

Without missing a beat, or letting go of Mum's hand, Master Five calmly replies:

"We'll just see what happens at the final siren."

Cue full on laughter, applause and cheers from fellow passengers.

When I heard the final score this afternoon I couldn't help but give a little cheer for Master Five and imagine what he would have said if he'd run into Master Four on the way home...

Bless their little blue & white and black, white & red cottons.

This Is How It Goes...

Right.

Here's how tomorrow is going to go.

• Freo will have their game face on.
  
  
• The Bombers will be plagued by injuries and lose their mettle.
  
  
• Freo will score a rare, yet convincing win, to keep them safely away from the wooden spoon and the Bombers will drop back to 9th place on the ladder.
  
  
• Which, after tonight's solid 42 pt win over the Tigers, will put my boys in the 8.
  
  

That IS how it will go.

I'm convinced the football gods will make it so.

No hoping. No wishing. Just conviction.

Failure is not an option Dockers. Or I will go west and kick your ass.

Dear Mr Sony (remember me?)

Hi Mr Sony,

Yep, me again. Got an awesome idea for you this time. Kind of a cross between SingStar and Guitar Hero.

TV Theme Sing'n'Play Hero Star.

Like it? I personally think its a little bit genius.

You get to either sing TV themes (if there are words) or play them (if they're instrumental). Or both, in the case of a theme like The Dukes of Hazzard (you could adapt the guitar to be a banjo).

Think of the possibilities. Just THINK!

Here's a few I came up with which I'd like to sing (besides The Dukes of Hazzard):

• Charles in Charge
• I'm No Superman (Scrubs)
• Not The Boss of Me (Malcolm in the Middle)
• Growing Pains
• Punky Brewster
• Family Ties
• Who's The Boss?
• Laverne & Shirley
• Fresh Prince of Bel Air
• The Facts of Life
• Diff'rent Strokes
• Cheers
• Full House
• The Brady Bunch
• Perfect Strangers

Enough? Oh yeah, Eight is Enough. That one too.

And for playing... well there's heaps of them too.

• MacGyver (imagine the drum content of this one... awesome)
• Knots Landing
• Baywatch
• Grange Hill
• Head of the Class (if you had a piano component it could get very twiddly which would sort the men from the boys)
• Mork & Mindy
• Knight Rider
• The Professionals
• The A Team
• Beverly Hills 90210*
• Melrose Place**
  

There's loads. LOADS.

I strongly suggest you bring it up at your next brainstorming session. I reckon it'd be a real winner. I'd buy it.

Sincerely,

magical_m



* Updated to incorporate elaine's brilliant suggestion.
** On the back of elaine's brilliant suggestion, I had to add this one for sheer guitar component potential.

Sautéed in Wrong Sauce... Again*

Oh. My. Goodness.

Tommy Lee really does refuse to grow old gracefully doesn't he?

Reading this article during breakfast this morning nearly caused me to choke on my tea.

Burnt his hand whilst playing with sparklers. How old is he, 9???

But you've gotta give the guy credit for freely admitting that he's an idiot.

You just wouldn't wanna date him.

Weeeeeelllll....

No.

NO.


Couldn't date you Tommy. But can have a bit of a giggle at your expense and thank you for reminding all of us that while growing OLD is inevitable, growing UP is optional.

Tommy Lee, we salute you.

* for those who don't know or remember my obsession with Tommy Lee, click here. Or here. Or here.

I just want them to know that they didn't break me...

I read the news today, oh boy.


John Hughes passed away, aged 59. As a teenager of the 80's, John Hughes probably had more influence on who I am than any other person in the world. Big statement I know, but as a teenager who never felt that she fitted in, he told the stories that made me feel just a little bit better about being me.


He (and Molly Ringwald) showed me that its ok to be an individual. That its ok to not be part of the cool clique. That its what's inside a person that truly counts and you can find love anywhere if you look deep enough.


So I was a little sad today to hear about John.


And then I read this post.


And I cried.


Because its not just me that feels like a part of my youth has gone forever.


And because a part of it will live on because John Hughes captured what mattered to me at that particular point in time.


Because he listened. And observed. And then told our stories.


Vale John Hughes. I never knew you and you never knew me, but you were one of the most important people I never met.


And thank you.

Aussie TV's Most Embarrasing Night

Well, I'm a bit sick (not swine flu, but a cold) and so I'm sitting here watching the Logies for the first time in a few years (I usually work Sunday nights so never get to see it).

And I just have one question:

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??

Sports Program Award presenters... who are they?

Does Annie Lennox really know what she's in for?

Do Bo & Hope from Days of Our Lives know what they're in for? Although they're probably more prepared for the cringe given the fact that (a) they've been on DOOL for over 20 years and (b) the Daytime Emmys is almost as bad.

Annie Lennox is on and she's amazing. And my RETARDED flatmate has just asked who the hell she is and commented on how awful she thinks "Must Be Talking To An Angel" is.

WHAT THE???

Thank god she's moving out on Saturday...

I nearly just threw my laptop at her for being such an ignorant muppet. How could you not know who The Eurythmics are?

Anyway. I digress. I'm giving my thoughts on the Logies.

Gretel Killeen. What is there to say? Worst. Host. Ever. Why is she interviewing women in the toilets? WHY???

Why can't we have Hugh Jackman? He's an Aussie. He's been on television in Australia. Surely we could have scratched up enough cash for him to do the job.

Josh Lawson. Funniest man on the planet. Funnier than Rove. Funnier than Adam Hills. Funnier than Dave Hughes (but that wouldn't be difficult). And cuter than all three of them. Can he host next year please?

Packed to the Rafters. Sorry, I just don't get it. Not a fan at all.

Its 10.30pm and I've yet to see Bo & Hope. Are they presenting the Gold perchance? How weird for them if they are... bet they have no idea who Natalie Bassingthwaite or Harold from Neighbours are.

Anyway...

I'm going to go and make a cup of tea. And ponder why Gretel Killeen keeps getting work.

Sleep, anyone?

I'm just over midway through the Comedy Festival and working stupidly long days, so haven't been paying this much attention... its not because of a lack of things to say, believe me!

Regular blogging will resume shortly.

Promise!

x

But wait, there's more

I am beginning to question exactly what it is I am putting out into the universe that is making these things happen to me...

So Wednesday night the wallet was stolen as I was having a drink after working a 14 hour straight shift.

Then last night, after a trying day, getting replacement cards, having another busy night at work and having to get a cab home because I missed the last train... I thought I'd light the oil burner and try and relax a little.

There's a fan in front of the shelf where I keep the tea light candles.  As I was leaning over it to grab a candle, my necklace got caught in the grill of the fan without me realising and as I stood up the chain snapped and broke.

This wasn't just any necklace though.  It was the silver version of this necklace:

Tiffany & Co.  Paloma Picasso.   TIFFANY & CO.

I am gutted.  It might be able to be fixed, but I'll have to sweet talk the repair crew at Tiffany's into it... last time they fixed (4 years ago), it they said it was getting a bit too worn (but complimented me on my excellent care of it given it was given to me 10 years ago and I have worn it every single day.)

So, yes.

Did I mention it was TIFFANY & CO?

What is the universe trying to tell me?  That I'm too attached to designer goods?

Possibly.  But considering how few designer items I actually own, I wouldn't have thought so.

Oh well.

Yazz.  Yazz.  Yazz. Yazz.  Yazz.*

* See previous post.

Rocha.John Rocha.

My purse was stolen last night.  My beautiful Rocha.John Rocha brown leather purse which I bought in London last year.

I loved that purse.  LOVED it.  More than words can possibly express.

The cards that were in it are being replaced (I just have to remember all of them) and I guess I'll just have to put up with the fact that someone has probably already spent the A$25 and €50 cash that was in there, but I'm having real trouble coping with the fact that another person is in possession of my beautiful purse.  Or worse, that they've dumped it somewhere after emptying it of all contents.  No.  I don't want to think about that.

On the plus side (and there always is one), it has forced me into updating all my contact details to my new Melbourne address.

But there are a bunch of cards which I use infrequently, which I just cannot remember.  So I am asking my lovely readers (well the two of you who still read/comment!) if you wouldn't mind taking a few minutes to list the different cards you have in your purses, to see if any of them jog my memory.

I'd be ever so grateful.  As grateful as I was to Constable Daniel, Tiffany, Jade, Jenny, Guy, Kerry and all the other call centre staff who have helped me this morning.

Despite the last 24 hours being rather trying, the Yazz principle is currently being applied and appears to be working.*

x

* Definition of the Yazz principle is located here.

Dear Mr Sony

Dear Mr Sony (@playstation.com)

My new friend Amy and I have come up with a gap in your popular Singstar market.

Not that either of us actually own a Playstation or Singstar, but that's irrelevant.

We're quite surprised that you've not cottoned on to this as an idea yet.  Or perhaps you have, but have found it too difficult to get the rights.  In any case, we'd like to run the idea past you, just in case.

Our idea?

Movie Songs SingStar.

Now we realise that there is a Disney SingStar, but that's Disney.  And we're talking classic movie songs.

Wouldn't it be so much fun to be able to belt out some of the following tunes and be scored on your ability (or lack of):

- The Power of Love - Huey Lewis & The News (Back To The Future)

- I Will Always Love You - Whitney Houston (The Bodyguard)

- When The Going Gets Tough - Billy Ocean (The Jewel of the Nile)

- My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion (Titanic)

- Don't You Forget About Me - Simple Minds (The Breakfast Club)

- If You Leave - OMD (Pretty in Pink)

- Goonies R Good Enough - Cyndi Lauper (The Goonies)

- I've Had The Time Of My Life - Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes (Dirty Dancing)

- Footloose - Kenny Loggins (Footloose)

- Flashdance (What A Feeling) - Irene Cara (Flashdance)

- Fame - Irene Cara (Fame)

- Take My Breath Away - Berlin (Top Gun)

- Movin' Right Along - Kermit & Fozzie (The Muppet Movie)

- Never Ending Story - Limahl (The Never Ending Story)

- Together in Electric Dreams - Giorgio Moroder (Electric Dreams)

- Mrs Robinson - Simon & Garfunkel (The Graduate)

- Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head - BJ Thomas (Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid)

- Nothin's Gonna Stop Us Now - Starship (Mannequin)

- There Are Worse Things I Could Do - Stockard Channing (Grease)

- Cool Rider - Michelle Pfeiffer (Grease 2)

And that's just for starters.

I realise that a high proportion of the above listed are from 80's films, but I'm sure your fine research team will be able to uncover many more from other decades.

Anyway. Think about it Mr Sony. Amy and I reckon it would be tops. Hell I'd even contemplate purchasing a Playstation if you went ahead with it.

Yours in singing,

magical_m