Gratitude and Intention

Sorry - it's been a while I know. But having spent the majority of December traipsing around Australia and NZ with Bon Jovi and U2, I haven't had a lot of time for blogging.

I'll save the rock'n'roll stories for next year - not that there were many (apart from one hilarious drive to the hotel with Bon Jovi's manager - the epitome of a rock'n'roll manager who's been in the business longer than I've been buying albums and has amazing tales to tell).

For the last post of the year I am going to take the advice of several of today's horoscopes and a few other inspirational people in my life who have all suggested I make a list of the things I've been grateful for in 2010 and some of my intentions for 2011.

So here we go:

2010 GRATITUDE:

1. Breaking free of an uninspiring, unhappy working environment (the PR job) and setting up my own business copywriting. So far it's proved to be a good move, with steady work and excellent financial rewards.

2. Finally completing The Artist's Way, after attempting it several times over the last 9 years.

3. Having the support of some amazing friends (old and new) and enjoying lots of laughter, fun, food and joy with them.

4. Spending time with my two great-aunts (both in their 90s) and listening to their funny stories of my family. They are both amazing women.

5. Spending time with my oldest friend and her family when her father passed away early in the year. He was a wonderful man and is very much missed but I am so grateful that he was such a big part of my family's life for so long.

6. Skype dates with my beautiful god-children. They make me laugh so much with their funny little ways.

7. Seeing Spandau Ballet for the first time - having been a fan for over 25 years I was so excited about seeing them and they totally lived up to the expectations I'd built up over that time.

8. Buying Kitty Lucy - my beautiful bike. She and I have been spending many happy times together.

9. Celebrating some joyous occasions with friends - weddings, births, birthdays, anniversaries... I feel privileged to have been included in the festivities.

10. Seeing so many amazing shows, movies, concerts and exhibitions. Melbourne is such a brilliant place for the arts.

11. Living in a house that feels like a home, with a flatmate who feels like family.

12. Buying my cello - finally (after over 25 years of wanting to learn)!

13. Being gifted some beautiful family heirlooms in my father's cousin's will. I'm so lucky that she thought highly enough of me to be trusted with such treasures and they are a gorgeous reminder to me of what a special woman she was.

14. Ending the year in a much better financial situation than at the start!

15. Ending the year in a much better health situation than at the start!

16. Ending the year in a much better spiritual and creative frame of mind than at the start!


2011 INTENTIONS:

1. To spend more time with my friends, especially those who nurture me so brilliantly. I am so lucky to have them.

2. To cut out sugar from my diet. For many reasons, but mostly because it's the likely cause of some of my remaining health issues.

3. To continue growing my business and to have a steady stream of interesting, creative and enjoyable projects.

4. To save enough money to go to NYC and London for my 40th birthday in June and live it up - large!

5. To have a brilliant 40th birthday surrounded by some of my oldest, bestest friends.

6. To continue to be inspired and inspiring, loved and loving, happy and grateful.


May 2011 be a brilliant year for all of us, with everything we all wish for!


x

Stuck In A Moment (aka I Will Follow)

Apologies for the lack of posting... I've been a little busy.

Sound check for U2's 360〫Tour, Mt Smart Stadium, Auckland

I'm currently following Bono & the boys around Australia/NZ. About to start sharing that love with Jon Bon Jovi and his band of merry men next week...

Sounds far more glamorous than it actually is.

Will hopefully have more time for blogging soon.

x

Today (is the greatest...)*

A few small facts about today:

1. I slept in. Woohoo.

2. I watched Friday's episode of Eastenders which some lovely person had uploaded to YouTube. I had to break the Chain of K briefly, because I couldn't wait to see the wedding. Slushy of me I know.

3. I tried to write a marketing flyer for a client this morning. I'm still trying to write it now. Procrastination is my middle name.

4. I went to see the ACO this afternoon. Kreutzer vs Kreutzer. AHHH-MAAA-ZING. Robin McLeavy and Samuel West were awesome and it was nice to see the cellists get their teeth into quite a complex piece. Incidentally I did sit there for a while wondering how the hell the ACO managed to get Sam West to come over here and perform with them, until I found out that his partner is the playwright. It really is all about who you know, isn't it?

5. I was supposed to meet the lovely Neena for a drink post-show but she got her engagements confused and had to bail. So I'm home and as evidenced in point 3, am trying to work in the hope that if I get it completed tonight I can have a day off tomorrow.

6. The birds in my garden are rather fond of pecking away at the petals which have fallen down from the rose bushes. Is there some kind of nutritional value in rose petals that only the birds know about?

7. I've just eaten an entire tub of Wattle Valley Beetroot Dip. That stuff is goooood.

8. I can procrastinate no longer. I must do this flyer. Must, must, must.


x



* thank you Smashing Pumpkins

Ludicrous Lyrics (1 of Many)

"You're So Vain"
Carly Simon
1972
#1 in both the USA and Australia
Ranked at #72 on Billboard's Greatest Songs of All Time.



This one has had me stumped for years. And since it just popped up on shuffle, I thought I'd share my confusion and see if anyone wants to put their two cents worth in. Or more accurately five cents, given we've eliminated one and two cent coins from our currency in Australia.


So...

Is the lyric actually:

"I had a dream there were clouds in my coffee"

or

"I had a dream there were clowns in my coffee"


Either way, it's a pretty stupid lyric.

Why would there be either clouds or clowns in your coffee? And how big would the cup need to be to hold them? And if you drank them would there be any ill-effects?


Just a random thought for today.


x


In other news. Beetroot dip. Greatest thing ever? I've nearly scoffed a whole tub on my own in one sitting.

Reasons to ♥ the Greens #2,671

This woman is awesome. Not only does she make her fellow panellists on Q&A appear like spoiled, ignorant children, but it seems she's also in politics for the right reason... to try and make the world a better place not just for us, but for future generations.

And she's only 28.

Imagine what she'll achieve by the time she's 60.

2222

Logged in just now to see this:



Profile views @ 4/11/10, 2:40PM:

2222



Really?

That many people have looked at my profile?

I guess I have been blogging since 2005. That's a while. That's 444 per year.

Or 37 a month.

Which is about 1.something per day.

Wow.

I wonder how many come back regularly?

I'm sure there's some sort of stats widget I could find to tell me this, but honestly? I hate stats.

As long as I'm keeping a few of you amused now and again that's all I ask.

Happy Thursday! I'm off to the shops with Kitty to search for a birthday present for a lovely friend. And tonight I'm off to the MSO. Very excited to be seeing a legend like Charles Dutoit... he's in his 70s and still conducting.

Hope I'm that sprightly when I'm in my 70s.


(Oh and this is post #69 for the year... make of that what you will)

Cheesy Covers of the Day

This weekend I went on a little trip to Daylesford. Lovely place. Ate myself into a food coma but still managed to fit into two little vintage frocks which were purchased this afternoon at a marvellous vintage marketplace called The Mill.

That's another post however.

Whilst at The Mill, I discovered boxes and boxes of old vinyl. Most was standard 70s and 80s fare... at least 9 copies of The Village People's 'Can't Stop The Music' and 6 copies of ABBA's 'Arrival', for example.

But I noticed a fabulous trend among the album covers of solo male artists of that era, so decided to whip out the old Lumix and snap a few. I did consider purchasing them, but I think that would have been far too embarrassing. Taking sneaky snaps while no one was around is far less obvious.

So here we go... Cheesy Covers of the Day:



Shaun Cassidy. Less famous (half) brother of David. Son of Shirley Jones. One half of The Hardy Boys.

A bit of childhood crush of mine (I was a big Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew fan). Until today, when I discovered that he was a possessor of pretty average dental hygiene. If you studied the cover closely, there were bits of food (or tobacco, or something more disgusting) in his teeth. And his gums were all puffy, like he didn't brush properly. Ewwwwww.

Next up we had another (brief) childhood crush of mine... Leif Garrett.




Let's just NOT go there ok? I was clearly a strange child.

Next up we have a icon of the world of 80's ballads... the 'Repeat Offender' himself - Richard Marx. I'd forgotten what a dodgy album cover this was.




Honestly, the man has a smaller waist than I do. Than I did in the 80's even! And I was a skinny teen. He also had far bigger hair than me. Totes unfair.

Next up, a double bill. I think one of the sales assistants was lurking and I wasn't entirely sure what their policy on people taking photos of the merchandise was, so did a quick "line 'em up together and take the shot".

Andy Gibb... the best looking of the Gibb brothers, no contest. And Julio Iglesias. If you don't know who he is, then you shouldn't be reading this blog. He's the original cheesy crooner... his stuff is hysterically funny.




That pose of Andy's is gold. If you squint a bit he almost looks like Heath Ledger. In fact, if Heath was still with us, I'd be starting up a campaign for him to play Andy in a biopic. I'd go see that. Wonder who'd play Maurice though? Hmmmm. Something to think about.


Anyway.

Next up, the Young Doctor himself... Mark Holden.




I really don't remember any of his songs, but I know there was some kind of rose involved somehow. I wonder if he used to do that stupid 'touchdown' arm-wave back in those days? No. Actually I don't wonder. I don't care.

Now...

Hands up who remembers this little corker? Sing along with me now - "Boom Boom Boom, let's go back to my room..."

Yes indeedy, it's the Greek-American one hit Hi-NRG wonder himself - Paul Lekakis.



Look at that pout. What a purty thing he is. Sexy and purty. And just a tad cross-eyed.


FINALLY...

This is the piece de resistance...

It's not a pop album.

Nor is it a rock album.

It's not even Hi-NRG.

No, it's an album of...





Yoga. An album of yoga.

There are so many things I love about this album that I don't know where to begin. Firstly, the eye shadow. Blue, to match the leotard. Which is tie-dyed. Utterly fabulous. Then, we have the tagline "Vocal Instruction to Indian Music".

I put this pic up on facebook and almost immediately my friend Jimbo commented to say he owned it. I of course thought he was joking and said as much, but then he countered with "his voice is bizarre... the whole thing feels like an SNL skit without a punchline", which leads me to believe that yes, one of my friends actually does own this album.

I love that so much.

So, so much.

Taken...

Hmmm... see that last post? The one where I questioned whether I should amend my trip next year to include a trip to London to see Take That?

Well, thanks to the wonders of the internet, not to mention the sound advice of my London-based friend Fiona who, upon discovering that I was having dramas with ticketmaster.co.uk (which had been crashing all morning), told me to try ticketmaster.ie (thanks Fi!); I am (soon to be) a proud possessor of one magic ticket to Wembley Stadium on Tuesday 5 July 2011.

Yes.

It's true.

I am going to see Take That in concert.


[insert rather loud squeeeeeeeeeeeeee here]


Best I get cracking on that savings plan.


[insert more loud squeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ing here]

Take. This.

Well this bit of news has me totally rethinking my 40th birthday trip next year...

The initial plan was to head Stateside about 16th June, spend a couple of weeks in NYC living large with the ladies, and then find a nice remote, relaxing, lake or forest or beach to sit and write for a couple of weeks.

But now I think I might have to leg it over to London in early July to see the lads. I mean I could wait until they come to Australia, but seeing as they've not made good on their 2007 tour promise when I stalked saw them in Martin Place, I'm not holding my breath that they'll make it down here. Besides there's always the chance by the time they get here Rob might've thrown his toys out the pram again and left.

So I think I must go to Wembley.

Maybe I can then spend two weeks in Cornwall or the Cotswolds or something instead. I don't really mind what type of forest or lake or beach I'm at as long as it's reasonably remote.

But I can't miss seeing the lads. I wonder if Howie still breakdances?

From Melbourne With ♥

This is yet another reason why I love Melbourne:

Random notes.

It's nice to know there's a few of us out there attempting to make this world a nicer place, one tiny step at a time.

Take a moment and share the love today, please?

x

Coincidence

I've decided to stop apologising for my lack of blogging. The reasons I haven't have been good ones - like actually being employed to write - so I don't feel guilty.

Well, I do a little bit. Just a little.

Anyway.

I've also finished the little project I was working on. Check it out. Pretty cool, huh? I'm very proud of our little group and still in awe of our creative and inventive leader. She amazes me.

But I've missed blogging and I'm glad to have a bit more time to dedicate to it. So hopefully I'll be around here a bit more.

A little while ago I stumbled across a blog which interested me - not sure how I came across it but that's beside the point. The point is, it turns out it's written by a girl I went to high school with. Weird, huh? We weren't particularly good friends at high school, as we were in different home groups and moved in different circles, but we were in some of the same music classes and were always friendly. Of course, we haven't kept in touch, but coming across her blog a few months ago has made me realise how small the world actually is and how you never really escape your past.

The fact I haven't lived in my hometown for well over 15 years now and have kept in touch with only a handful of school and university friends hasn't made a scrap of difference to the fact that the past is always sneaking up on you.

I guess the trick is not to let it freak you out and instead concentrate on looking forward. I'm not saying the past should be ignored, just that it shouldn't be dwelt upon. Is that even correct English? Dwelt? The more I look at it the more wrong it seems.

I'm getting sidetracked again.

So.

Last week, Fiona put up a post on her challenge to herself to complete a certain 40 things before she turns 40 next year. I really liked that idea, so have decided to adopt it for myself. Thanks for the inspiration Fiona!

I do find it difficult to believe I'm turning 40 next year. I certainly don't feel it. Or look it. And that's really not just wishful thinking. Most people react in absolute jaw-dropping shock when I tell them my age. It's quite funny. I used to think 40 was ancient, so I suppose they do too. Some days I feel like I've packed quite a bit into the last (almost) 40 years... other days I sit here and wonder what the hell I've achieved. I do tend to focus on that one more than the other, which I don't think is a particularly good thing. People are pretty tough on themselves sometimes don't you think? Shouldn't we all stop and reflect on our achievements sometimes too?

So I think there will be two blog posts coming up. "40 before 40" to give me something to work towards and "39 Steps to 40" to celebrate the journey involved.

Stay tuned.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Only two posts in September. Shocking. Lashing of apologies to those who kept popping by hoping for something new, only to be disappointed.

I've been working a lot the last couple of weeks - I'm back at Trades for the Fringe Festival and my new little business has picked up a couple of clients, so I've been writing away for them and discovering not only that I enjoy it, but I'm actually rather good at it.

As evidenced by the photo above, I've also been keeping my fingers busy with a little project, which will come to fruition on Monday 11 October. Melbourne people keep your eyes peeled. It's been lots of fun and a great conversation starter on trains, at work, in the park... most people are fascinated to discover that the skill of handicrafts continues to exist in this technology-obsessed world of ours. Personally I've found it a very soothing past-time and one I'll be reluctant to give up.

However all good things must come to an end (to make room for more good things!), so this weekend our little project will be complete and Fringe will be finished. With three whole days free per week to devote to my little business and other writing projects, I won't know what to do with myself! Expect more from me then.

x

Reading Deprivation

Sounds a bit weird, huh? I thought so when I read the title. But it's an interesting concept.

As I said the other day, I'm re-visiting The Artist's Way. We were introduced to it in our first year of drama school but the brilliant Glenda Linscott, yet I have never managed to successfully complete it. Basically it's a 12 week program for reclaiming creativity - your "artist". It's quite demanding though - to get the most out of it you have to dig quite deep and some emotions and experiences from the past do get dragged up, no matter how much to try to suppress them. Last time I did it I got stuck on Week 8. This time I'm determined to get all the way through even if it kills me.

Which it won't, obviously. It will make me stronger and a better creative being, I just have to have faith that I can do it. Surrounding myself with a little pool of like-minded beings is definitely helping.

So anyway, I'm in Week 4. And one of the tasks for this week is Reading Deprivation.

Let me explain. Or even better, let me copy a brief piece from the relevant chapter:

"If you feel stuck in your life or in your art, few jump starts are more effective than a week of reading deprivation. No reading? That's right: no reading. For most artists, words are like tiny tranquillizers. We have a daily quota of media chat that we wallow up. Like greasy food, it clogs our stem. Too much of it and we feel, yes, fried.

It is a paradox that by emptying our lives of distractions we are actually filling the well, Without distractions, we are once again thrust into the sensory world With no newspaper to shield us, a train becomes a viewing gallery. With no novel to sink into (and no television to numb us out) an evening becomes a vast savannah in which furniture - and other assumptions - gets rearranged.

Reading deprivation is a very powerful tool - and a very frightening one. Even thinking about it can bring up enormous rage. For most blocked creatives, reading is an addiction. We gobble the words of others rather than digest our on thoughts and feelings, rather than cook up something of our own."

It was that last paragraph which hit the nail on the head for me. I am a voracious reader. I always have been. As a kid my dad used to take me to the public library twice a week and each time I would come away with at least six books. By the time I was 8 I'd read through the entire children's section. Twice. I was like an addict. I couldn't NOT read. Trying to get me to do anything else was useless. I preferred reading to running around outside, playing sports, playing with other kids, eating, sleeping... in short, pretty much everything. I was reading at university level by the time I was 11.

I think escapism was a big thing for me. I didn't much care for my real life so I used to get caught up in the fantasy world of books, where I could be whoever the character was on the page. The character who always triumphed over adversity. Who was pretty, popular, smart, sporty, funny... all the things I didn't believe I was. In retrospect, should my parents have forced me to live a more well-rounded life? Maybe. But they hadn't ever dealt with someone like me before, just as their parents had never had to deal with someone like them... they did the best they could with what they knew. But I think a kick up the butt every now and again might have been a good thing for me. If they'd known about reading deprivation I like to think they might have tried it on me for a week or so. It would have been interesting at least!

In recent years I've learned the art of balance. I still have at least two books on the go at once, but I don't let it rule my life like it did when I was a kid. And I've learned that while it's great to get caught up in the fantasy for a while, you can't forget the real world and your part in it.

Having said that, this week of reading deprivation is going to be tough. Even things like facebook and email (not to mention my daily fix of Daily Mail gossip!) are classified as "reading". So I'm trying to limit all of them. I'm allowing myself to log in twice a day (morning and evening) for a maximum of 15 mins. What I can't read in that time has to wait. Blogging doesn't count, because I'm not reading blogs, I'm writing them. Writing is allowed. Encouraged even!

So what else am I doing with my time?

Well... ummmm....

Crotcheting. Of course. We still have at least 40 to go. That's about 5 a week each. Totally do-able.

Exercising. I am pretty rubbish at exercising. I hate gyms. I hate running. I think lap swimming is a pain in the arse (just the getting there, getting changed, etc). However I like to bike ride and I like to dance. So I am going for a nice long ride on Saturday with a friend and have instituted Dance Party Thursdays and Mondays. You heard me. Dance Party Thursdays and Mondays. These are the two days I don't have to be anywhere particularly early, so can crank up the music and dance my ass off.

The rules are simple:

1. The iPod must be on shuffle. No pre-choosing a soundtrack. Whatever comes on is what must be danced to. Unless of course it's a slow number. They can be skipped, but you must keep moving while flicking through.

2. Dancing must be high energy. It doesn't have to be graceful or coordinated or even in time, but it must be full of fun and joy and energy.

3. No stopping. For the full hour. Even when flicking through the songs, the body must be in motion.

It's heaps of fun.

Oh and I've bought a cello. I've always wanted to play but when they were assigning instruments at high school, the cello quota was full, therefore I was lumbered with the viola. The poor man's violin. I was rather ticked off at the time but too shy to speak up and say "Actually, fuck you. I want to play cello, I am going to hold out for the cello.", so I'm doing it now, some 20-odd years later. I just happened to search for them on eBay a couple of weeks ago and there was one going for $140. Brand new. Utter bargain. It's certainly not the world's best cello, but it's decent enough for me to learn the basics. If I turn out to be the next Yo Yo Ma or Jacqueline du Pre, I can always upgrade. So now I'm waiting for The Book Depository to deliver a couple of "how-to" books and then I'll be onto it.

Reading?

I might find I'm too busy for that come the end of the week!

x

We Apologise For The Temporary Loss of Transmission...

The author was fathoms deep in the stack of EastEnders DVDs sent by the Chain of K.

Huh? The Chain of what?

The Chain of K.

It goes like this:

Mum & Dad K in Queensland have Foxtel, with UKTV. Of course. They are, after all, expat Poms. They tape every episode of EastEnders on IQ, transfer them to DVD and then post them to daughter #3 in Adelaide.

Daughter #3 watches them, then passes them along to Daughter #2, also in Adelaide.

Daughter #2 watches them, posts them to me in Melbourne (I'm not sure if Daughter #1 watches them first, she might, but I'm not sure).

I shut myself away for hours and catch up with the goings on of the resident nutters, chavs and villains of Albert Square. Love it. There are certain things I really, REALLY miss about living in the UK. EastEnders is definitely in the Top 5, along with cumberland sausages, pear cider, M&S knickers and cheap flights to Ibiza. So I'm extremely grateful to the Chain of K that they include me in their DVD circle of love. But it does mean that little else gets done of an evening. Apart from crocheting.

Did I mention I'm doing lots of crocheting? There's a little project I'm working on which requires a lot of crocheting. Keep your eyes peeled Melbourne people.

Other than crocheting and Walford-watching there's not a whole heap going on.

Actually there is, if I stop and think.

I'm back doing The Artist's Way. I'm about to start week 4 and things are starting to happen.

The little business I set up a month or two ago is getting some clients. This whole writing for a career malarkey might just be a goer. I certainly hope so. I don't think I can last too much longer in the customer service sector... there really are some spectacularly stupid people in the world. I do wonder how people actually get through a whole day sometimes.

I'm currently reading Bret Easton Ellis' Imperial Bedrooms. The sequel to Less Than Zero. It's difficult to get into but I'm sure will be suitably sickening and enthralling once I've committed to it.

Fringe is about to start and I'm back at Trades for the duration. Stop by and say hi. Maybe see a show. If you're nice to me I may sell you a concession-priced ticket.

It's been a lovely sunny Spring day today so Kitty Lucy and I went for a little pedal. Then I made strawberry and coconut muffins. They were yum.

So what's news with you?

Spare some change?

Is it just me, or do other people have a policy on beggars?

Reading this article the other day got me thinking about it.

In general, I'm wary of beggars and their reasons for wanting me to share my cash with them. I do wonder if some of them take their tips from articles like these. I'm sure there are many genuine homeless people who need my help, but how do you work out who is "worthy" of getting your money? Is everyone worthy? Or no-one? Will my money help them improve their situation? Or will my money contribute to their problems?

When I was living in London there was a homeless man named Alf (yes, that was his name) who used to camp outside the entrance to Swiss Cottage tube station on Finchley Road. He'd always ask for "the price of a cup of tea". And he'd ask for it. Look you in the eye and ask you. At first, I rushed past him, but then one day I bought him a cup of tea, and there began a tradition. Instead of giving him cash, I'd buy him a cuppa. I figured if that's what he was asking for, that's what I'd give him. We became quite good mates, Alf and I. He was a lovely man, always keen for a chat.

When I moved to Sydney I noticed that there was a rather high proportion of beggars sitting on the streets with cardboard signs asking for money. "Lazy" beggars my boyfriend at the time called them. I rarely gave these beggars any money. Actually I never gave them any. My figuring is that I've worked hard to earn my money, so the least they can do is ask me straight up... like Alf used to. The ones who asked me straight out sometimes got a couple of dollars. And the woman with the "dance troupe". She always got some of my cash, purely due to her creativity and zeal.

Having lived in Melbourne for nearly 18 months now, I've discovered that there appear to be less outright beggars, but quite a few more Big Issue vendors. I like Big Issue vendors. I like that they're actively trying to improve their situation. I like that I have my regulars at various points around the city (I try to share the love by not buying from the same one each week). And I figure I get good value for my $5. I get an interesting read and I get to help someone.

When I was in London last year, I noticed a Big Issue vendor in Soho and stopped to buy one. It cost £1.70. That's about A$3. Bargain. I told him that it's $5 in Australia and he nearly fell over... then told me if he charged that he could probably stay in Claridges each night. I think if I'd offered him a plane ticket he would've been out here quicker than looking.

Soooo... hmmm. I think I've kinda lost my train of thought on this one. I can't remember where this was going. Anyway. What are your thoughts on beggars? Do you give? Do you have a system of working out just who gets your money or do you share at random? I'd be interested to know.

In the meantime, I'm going to be grateful that I'm not the one standing on a street corner...

x

The Draft Files

I’ve been in the habit lately of writing myself text messages when I want to remember a particular topic to blog about, but instead of sending them to anyone, I save them as drafts. This mostly occurs when I'm on the train going to or from work.

Of course being the forgetful lass I am of late, I tend not to ever look at these again except when I add another one, look at the ones already there and think to myself "I really should get around to putting these up next time I'm near a computer". And of course by the time I'm near a computer I've forgotten about it again.

Anyway, this morning I happened to stumble across them whilst working on my laptop. "Hurrah!", I hear you cry. Don't speak too soon. You haven't read them yet.

But here they are in all their glory... well in italic and bold. I've expanded on each of them in regular text:

1. Nutty lady at the cinema prior to the Hugh Hefner doco, who was singing along to Burt Bacharach and the sex party people flyering out front of the GU.

This happened on the final day of MIFF - an 11am session on a Sunday morning. My second-to-last film (I saw 14 in total), at the same cinema at Greater Union on Russell Street I'd seen Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll in the night before. Total deja vu.

Walking up to the cinema I was accosted by cheery people in bright yellow t-shirts handing out flyers for the Sex Party. I did think that they were probably preaching to the converted somewhat... after all we were going to see a doco on Hugh Hefner. The man isn't exactly a prude. But good on them for having a go.

I took my seat in the cinema (which was about 3/4 full) and was in the middle of rummaging in my bag for my snacks when I heard her. She wasn't just singing along under her breath. No, she was singing along loud and proud to "Do You Know the Way to San Jose". To say I got the giggles is an understatement...

2. How bad a habit must you have if you ride between the carriages in freezing bloody wind just so’s you can have a ciggie?

It's been a chilly winter here in old Melbourne town. Several times I've had to dig out the black wool swing coat with the (fake) fur collar and cuffs which I bought when I was living in the USA back in the mid-90s. Designed for sub-zero temps, so totes warm and practically vintage! I never wore it in Sydney because it was never cold enough. But it's had quite the workout this winter.

Anyway... the other day I was catching a train into the city. It was probably about 12°C and windy. Even with my super-warm coat (and gloves and scarf and hat and fleece tights), I was cold. So imagine my reaction when a bloke (who looked to be in his late 30s/early 40s) jumped on at Seddon, but instead of taking a seat, moved immediately to in between the carriages and lit up a ciggie. He stood out there in the freezing wind as the train sped along, puffing away at first one, then a second cigarette.

The train ride from Seddon to Flinders Street (where he got off the train) is approximately 14 minutes.

That's one hell of a f***ing habit, if you can't wait 14 minutes between ciggies.

3. The jolly Metro employee calling out “put your tickets away folks – it’s Fare Free Friday!"

Metro (the latest public transport provider for the people of Melbourne) screwed up in a major way last month and as a result, gave everyone free public transport for a day. There are two Metro employees who work the morning shift at Yarraville station (a big bear of a man with a beard and a no-nonsense grey-haired lady who always makes time to chat with the older people) and on the free Friday, the guy stood at the top of the ramp happily calling out to the approaching passengers with their tickets ready "put your tickets away folks - it's Fare Free Friday! Could you ask for a better start to your day? I think not!"

LOL.

4. Chutney muff – a new name I learned for a red head.

Picked this one up from one of my fellow boxies at MIFF. I think I laughed for about an hour. I can't believe I haven't heard this one before... it's horribly descriptive and I love it.

5. Blatantly clandestine – word of the day.

Again, another pick up from the MIFF gang. I can't remember the context but I think we were discussing ridiculous phrases and possibly the blog post of mine in which I challenged people to work the word "subterfuge" into everyday conversation.

6. Emma Brockes – What Would Barbra Do?

I spotted this book in the Virgin store at Southern Cross last year whilst waiting for a friend... I didn't buy it at the time but I'm wishing I had. It sounds like it's right up my alley. Seriously. Check out the synopsis:

Film musicals: you either love them or they make you want to kill yourself slowly with plastic cutlery. Nothing has the power to lift your heart or turn your stomach like Howard Keel in fake sideburns singing "Bless Your Beautiful Hide" or Julie Andrews singing...well, just about anything. There are few situations where the question: What would Barbra do? doesn't have relevance in a world which is much better lived to a soundtrack of show-tunes. This is a book for people who know that: people don't tend to die in musicals, but those who do deserve it; true love waits long enough for an element of mistaken identity to be introduced (especially if one of the couple is a Nazi); and, women carry the show. Talented women wind up alone...But they have the consolation of the torch song, which in Hollywood musicals is more fulfilling than a husband.

Yep. Me to a tee. I might have to make this my next Book Depository purchase. Once I've finished the current one of course (current one being "Imperial Bedrooms" by Bret Easton Ellis... I'm apprehensive about starting it given my violent reaction to "Less Than Zero", but I'm very keen to see what he's done with the characters 20 years on).

7. The music playing on the radio… dodgy Hammond Organ or 1970s evening show versions of The Beatles “Across the Universe” and Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made For Walking”. Awesomely dodgy.

I have NO IDEA what the context was of this one. I've had to sit and stew on this one for a good ten minutes and all I can come up with was that I was talking about the music played in a cinema whilst waiting for the trailers to commence.

I'd hazard a guess that it would have been Sun Theatre, or some other indie cinema - only because somehow I can't quite see Hoyts or Greater Union trotting out a K-Tel classic album pre-movie. And this was gold-class K-Tel quality. Had to have been, or I wouldn't have added it to my list of things to blog about!

Anyway. That's all of them. For the moment. I guess I can delete those ones off my phone now. To leave room for more pearls of wisdom? I'll let you decide.

Ooooh, My Favesies!

Shhh! I have an obsession.

Well, I have lots of obsessions, but this is the current one:

There's a whole series of them (19 in total) and they're, like, y'know, hilarious! Elaine Caroll is one clever gal.

I'm toying with the idea of doing something similar - obviously not using an Olsen twin as my base, since I'm far too old, but the idea is whirling around in my head.

Anyway, check out the website: http://verymarykate.com/. But be warned, it's totally addictive - you can't just stop at one episode!

Oh! Santa!

Dear Man-in-Red,

Yes, I realise I'm a little early; after all it's not even the end of August. However, whilst this is fresh in my mind, I'd like to request that this little corker of an appliance be stuffed in my stocking come Dec 25:





I haven't seen anything this nifty since Michelle Durant (my bestie at primary school) was given one of those alarm clock/tea maker gadgets for her 11th birthday. I had total alarm clock/tea maker envy and I didn't even drink tea back then.

So Santa forget the sable, the light blue '54 convertible, the yacht, the deed to a platinum mine, the duplex and cheques, the Tiffany decorations and the rings... all I want for Christmas is the Tefal Toast N' Egg.

Cheers pops. Keep up the good work.

Tidy.

Take aMoment...

One of my lovely friends has come up with a nifty public art installation project, called aMoment.

The aMoment gang has taken 100 teacups (and saucers), filled them with soil and planted a forget-me-not in each.

In the early hours of this morning they then placed and then photographed each of the teacups at various spots in Flinders Lane, Melbourne. They went back later on to see if people were taking them... which they were!

Such a gorgeous idea - follow the progress here: http://amomentmelbourne.wordpress.com/

A Playlist A Day...

Most days I tend to be rather boring with my choice of iPod selection. I have a few playlists of "current faves" that I listen to over and over and over.

When I say "current faves", that's exactly what I mean because they're entitled "Current Faves" and "Current Faves - Slow". These two playlists (which are regularly updated), are in addition to the "Classical", "Glee", "Spandau", "Carole, James & The Fab Four", "Train Tunes" and "Concentrators" playlists which also feature on fairly high rotation, depending on the activity.

But occasionally, just occasionally, I like to set my iPod to shuffle and see what gems out of the 7,313 songs currently on there it chooses to throw at me. Some days it's a right disappointment... I remember one day in particular every second song was John Mayer. Horrendous. I didn't even know I had his albums... I think I must have burned an old flatmate's CDs one day when I was burning every CD in sight.

Anyway.

This morning as I was setting off for the station, I decided to give shuffle a bit of a go. To be honest, I was getting mighty sick of Glee's versions of Beth and Poker Face. I needed to give them a rest before I boycotted them altogether. So I set it to shuffle and lo and behold, I was rewarded with some cracking numbers. To give you an idea of my eclectic musical taste, I thought I'd share them with you.

Firstly though, those of you unaware of my musical blog history might want to read up a bit.

OK. All caught up? Not too revolted by some of my favourite tunes? Great. So here we go.

The Great Shuffle of Monday 19 July 2010:

1. Mother Nature's Son - Sheryl Crow (covering The Beatles - from the movie 'I Am Sam')
2. Feelin' Alright - Huey Lewis (covering Joe Cocker - from the movie 'Duets')
3. Skin Feeling - Crowded House
4. Centrefold - J. Geils Band
5. Young Americans - David Bowie
6. Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters
7. Baggy Trousers - Madness
8. Free to Decide - The Cranberries
9. First Kiss - They Might Be Giants
10. I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany
11. I'm Your Man - Wham
12. Crazy Arms - Patsy Cline
13. Rock With You - Michael Jackson
14. First Cut Is the Deepest - Rod Stewart
15. Mercy - Duffy
16. Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell
17. Walking on Sunshine - Katrina & The Waves
18. Viva Las Vegas - Elvis Presley
19. You Can Fly! You Can Fly! You Can Fly! - Peter Pan (from the Disney movie)
20. In the Air Tonight - Phil Collins
21. All Night Long - Lionel Richie
22. Something in the Way She Moves - The Beatles
23. Roads - Portishead
24. Broken Wings - Mr Mister
25. Orange Coloured Sky - Natalie Cole

So hands up who thinks that's a bit of a cracker list? Wait, I can't touch type with one arm in the air.

I'm inspired to utilise shuffle a bit more often.

Or turn this morning's shuffle into it's own playlist for frequent listening...

Anyway. It's late and I'm desperate for a bit of shut-eye. Nighty night!

Snap²

Earlier this year, I mused upon how cool it would be to have a little camera attached to my glasses to capture the weird and wonderful things I notice every day.

Well today was another of those days.

This morning I was walking along the train platform waiting for the 10.36am into the city. As I sat down on the dark green bench, I stole a glance at the girl seated next to me. I couldn't tell you whether she was blonde or dark, tall or short, slender or chubby. But I can tell you exactly what she was wearing, because it was simply fascinating.

The first thing I noticed were the shoes. Bright green ballet pumps.

Then the handbag. A slightly darker shade of green, but still quite bright.

Then the tights. White opaque. Like I used to wear when I was a little kid. Now this girl was at least mid/late-20s. Takes a brave woman to wear white opaque tights for everyday purposes (i.e. not a nurse). I couldn't do it... I'd feel like a numpty.

Anyway, back to the outfit. Then we had the coat. Knee length, double breasted, 1940s style. In a deep, dark green.

At this point I just had to know. The dress. Was the dress green too? I surreptitiously looked a little closer.

Yes.

The dress was green. The same green as the coat, but with white spots.

So much coordination. I could barely contain my excitement.

But there was more. She was knitting. It was just only a few rows, so I couldn't tell what it was going to be, but the wool was white and (wait for it...) green.

Clearly this girl has a thing for green.

Love it.

Sadly, she jumped on a different carriage to me, so I didn't see her again. Maybe she thought I was a bit odd or rude, by checking out her outfit, but I was just so impressed with the coordination. It was gifted.

Anyway, on the train I went back to reading my book. Martin Kemp's autobiography. Not the best autobiography I've ever read, but interesting nonetheless. Anyway, I finished it, put it back in my bag and then glanced out of the window just as we were pulling into North Melbourne station. Platform 6 caught my eye, because it was empty, apart from one old man.

He was staring at the train as it went past him, almost as if he was trying to spot someone he knew. Clamped in his mouth was a pipe, big puffs of smoke made his eyes squint somewhat. Or maybe that was just because his eyesight was bad. He wasn't wearing glasses, so maybe it was just the effects of the smoke.

In any case, I couldn't help but stare back at him. Not just because he was the only person on the platform, or because he was puffing away on an old-school pipe (something I've rarely seen since the days when my Grandpa Bill was still alive), but mostly because of what he was wearing.

He was quite nattily turned out. A pair of beige slacks, brown belt and shoes. Couldn't quite make out the shirt, but there was a cravat. And it was green. Then there was the blazer... again, green. Dark green. Same colour as the coat of my earlier bench companion. And finally, a beige fedora with... yep. That's the one. A green trim.

I couldn't help but let out a little snicker of joy.

Two completely coordinated generations of people. Made my heart happy.

I only wish I could have seen them standing side by side.

And taken a photo.

###

Back in January, I set myself a challenge to post at least 52 times in 2010.

Observant readers of this blog will notice that my previous post on the erstwhile 80s glam-rock pin-up turned porky drunk driver Vince Neil, marked my 52nd entry for the year. What a topic for me to pick. Onya m_m. Let's attempt to lift the game on the topic front, shall we?

[administers slap to head]

So anyway, I think it might be time to set myself a new challenge on number of blog posts for the year. It is, after all, the beginning of a new financial year here in Australia. What better time to set new goals?

Trouble is, I think 104 (double 52) is a bit too predictable. So I would like YOU to suggest a number for me.

Suggestions on a postcard please. Or in the comments field below. Your choice.

In the meantime, I'm going to get onto the wearing of the 52 different pairs of shoes, which I have so far neglected rather badly. I blame my inability to comfortably wear stilettos anymore. Signs of ageing, much.

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. Two 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...

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.

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.

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!

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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