tubs of icecream purchased - 2
trips to windsor - 1
crushes on deborah conway - 1
nails picked and chewed - 9
number of dollars spent on vintage threads - 149
talented gents around me - 4
new songs - 2
Gigs in a week - 4
hours sleep - 5.5
Last night I dreamt I lived with Nicole Kidman and that I had to marry a fat dude with flaky skin to stop him from chasing all the children from stanmore primary school...
That's not got much to do with anything though, does it?
I'm not what you would call "Cool". I have never been a trendy or accepted into groups that are happening in a far out way... Heck, once in highschool I received an exercise book full of threats from a bunch of young women telling me that I would never change and never be cool and just give up now and kill myself or they'd do it for me! It was a wonderful time and is a wonderful thing to be told you're so super duper swell, particulalry at a time when you're so confident and attractive and not-akward! Thanks ladies!
Anyway... where was I... OH YES! Not cool!
Last night, I played a support set for the effervescent Deborah Conway. DAMN is that woman cool! She just oozed ease and comfort and clarity and personality and charm. If I could somehow bottle what she has and harness her cool, even 10% of her cool, then I would be the coolest twentysomething ever!
I bought some chocolate brown bowling shoes with big chunky heels... I can't wait to wear them someday!
I'm no longer interesting tonight. The end.
Not cool!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Chocolate Karma
Picture me at 9:30pm... struck down with whooping cough (yes... I have whooping cough... what a joy)... pulling my car up to the early bird convenience store on Addison rd. As its name suggests, the shop is open quite early in the mornings so I was quite surprised to see it still open at 9:30 at night. Such a relief!
I mosey on inside and gaze lovingly at the chocolate bars, my mouth watering. I've had a hard rehearsal - dancing, singing and coughing my way through 3 hours - I don't just want chocolate. I need it!
I make my difficult decision, clawing at a kitkat and a cherry ripe... (yes 2 bars! Shut up) and I make my way to the counter. In my haste, I practically bowl over a gentleman who walks through the door. I apologise several times and he just chuckles the whole time. He has soulder length messy black hair, black rimmed glasses, a beige knee length coat, thongs and a grey scarf. His smile is wide and his voice slightly high pitched. I have decided a good name for this man is Daniel. He goes to get some groceries while I go to pay for my chocolate bars. In my purse, there is 45c! I pull out my card and the man behind the counter tells me that there is a $10 minimum. Daniel hears this and pipes up from the back of the shop "You can't do that. It's illegal." The attendant looks guilty and murmers something about just being an employee and he'll get in trouble. I go to put my chocolate bars back and look for a quick fix candy for less than 45c (there's not a lot around these days for less than $1!) Daniel stops me and says "I have a feeling that these are a lot more than just chocolate bars to you right?" I giggled and said "Oh yeah! cough splutter" he put $5 down on the counter and said "The milky bars are on me" I resisted and told him I couldn't possibly accept. He insisted and bought me both the cherry ripe and the kitkat. "Karma! It's all about Karma" he said "The chocolate Karma God will appease me". I stood there gobsmacked. He tipped his hat (he wasn't wearing a hat, but he seemed like the kind of guy who would have tipped it were he wearing one) and out he went into the cold winters night, flip flopping in his thongs down addison road.
There was nothing sleazy about him at all. He was simply helping another human being out. He wasn't trying to impress or boast his money about or pick me up or pick up the shop attendant, he just wanted me to be happy. How beautifully rare!
So ... chocolate karma god... please help Daniel out... let the sun always shine on him and his, but NEVER on his chocolate bars! Keep them non melty and fresh. Let him always chose the chocolate bar with the winning 'one free bar' wrapper, and let his chocolate never be white and crumbly.
Can I get an AAAAAAAAAMEN!
I mosey on inside and gaze lovingly at the chocolate bars, my mouth watering. I've had a hard rehearsal - dancing, singing and coughing my way through 3 hours - I don't just want chocolate. I need it!
I make my difficult decision, clawing at a kitkat and a cherry ripe... (yes 2 bars! Shut up) and I make my way to the counter. In my haste, I practically bowl over a gentleman who walks through the door. I apologise several times and he just chuckles the whole time. He has soulder length messy black hair, black rimmed glasses, a beige knee length coat, thongs and a grey scarf. His smile is wide and his voice slightly high pitched. I have decided a good name for this man is Daniel. He goes to get some groceries while I go to pay for my chocolate bars. In my purse, there is 45c! I pull out my card and the man behind the counter tells me that there is a $10 minimum. Daniel hears this and pipes up from the back of the shop "You can't do that. It's illegal." The attendant looks guilty and murmers something about just being an employee and he'll get in trouble. I go to put my chocolate bars back and look for a quick fix candy for less than 45c (there's not a lot around these days for less than $1!) Daniel stops me and says "I have a feeling that these are a lot more than just chocolate bars to you right?" I giggled and said "Oh yeah! cough splutter" he put $5 down on the counter and said "The milky bars are on me" I resisted and told him I couldn't possibly accept. He insisted and bought me both the cherry ripe and the kitkat. "Karma! It's all about Karma" he said "The chocolate Karma God will appease me". I stood there gobsmacked. He tipped his hat (he wasn't wearing a hat, but he seemed like the kind of guy who would have tipped it were he wearing one) and out he went into the cold winters night, flip flopping in his thongs down addison road.
There was nothing sleazy about him at all. He was simply helping another human being out. He wasn't trying to impress or boast his money about or pick me up or pick up the shop attendant, he just wanted me to be happy. How beautifully rare!
So ... chocolate karma god... please help Daniel out... let the sun always shine on him and his, but NEVER on his chocolate bars! Keep them non melty and fresh. Let him always chose the chocolate bar with the winning 'one free bar' wrapper, and let his chocolate never be white and crumbly.
Can I get an AAAAAAAAAMEN!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I'm ronrey
4 antibiotics a day consumed
4 vitamins consumed
5 episodes of South Park
7 hours of sleep had
50 tissues destroyed
I'm feeling so isolated being sick. No one will let you hold their children and dogs shy away from you because your bark is more fearsome than theirs. I'm trying to stay on top of it and be as positive as possible but man oh man, it's been over a month now and I'm over it. It's not as though I'm dying or have anything life threatening, but the draining sensation has been endless.
I often feel that if I haven't left the house in a day, I have achieved nothing. Even if I write 10 songs and get a casting notice and bake a cake and watch a documentary and discover a new mathematical equation - it's the act of leaving the house and experiencing something new that makes me feel as though the day has been worth it. Even if that something new is as simple as buying groceries. There is so much that happens outside that I could see and experience that I will miss out on if I simply stay in here and re-watch episodes of South Park or re-read Brave New World... again.... for the fourth time!
I would just like a great big hug!!!
On the plus side, I watched the first 2 episodes of MadMen which I've never seen before and it is brilliant! The music is supurb and the insight into the relationship between man and woman is simply fascinating. It's sexy, it's beautiful to watch with the costumes and cars and sets, and the writing is so complex and interesting. Nothing is blatantly obvious, but the message of the episode is still beautifully palpable and meaningful.
Also watched Dylan Moran Live which is hilarious! I'll share it with you.
Please someone send me biscuits or something - cookies... vitamins... chicken soup???
4 vitamins consumed
5 episodes of South Park
7 hours of sleep had
50 tissues destroyed
I'm feeling so isolated being sick. No one will let you hold their children and dogs shy away from you because your bark is more fearsome than theirs. I'm trying to stay on top of it and be as positive as possible but man oh man, it's been over a month now and I'm over it. It's not as though I'm dying or have anything life threatening, but the draining sensation has been endless.
I often feel that if I haven't left the house in a day, I have achieved nothing. Even if I write 10 songs and get a casting notice and bake a cake and watch a documentary and discover a new mathematical equation - it's the act of leaving the house and experiencing something new that makes me feel as though the day has been worth it. Even if that something new is as simple as buying groceries. There is so much that happens outside that I could see and experience that I will miss out on if I simply stay in here and re-watch episodes of South Park or re-read Brave New World... again.... for the fourth time!
I would just like a great big hug!!!
On the plus side, I watched the first 2 episodes of MadMen which I've never seen before and it is brilliant! The music is supurb and the insight into the relationship between man and woman is simply fascinating. It's sexy, it's beautiful to watch with the costumes and cars and sets, and the writing is so complex and interesting. Nothing is blatantly obvious, but the message of the episode is still beautifully palpable and meaningful.
Also watched Dylan Moran Live which is hilarious! I'll share it with you.
Please someone send me biscuits or something - cookies... vitamins... chicken soup???
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Bonjour Sharehouse Living!
Bonjour sharehouse living! It's been a while!
It's been such a warm and cozy cuckoon living with my little pink flamingo in the room next door there that I had forgotten what it was like to sleep (attempt to sleep) in a share house.
Between the years of 2004-2008 I lived with 8 different flatmates in 5 different houses. I also slept in the aptly named 'crack den' in Wollongong where the rats nibbled on my toes and the smackies pilaged and plundered in the housing comission next door.
Hold the phone!
17/07/2010.
Palace Street, Petersham.
After kicking and swearing and "gently tapping slot a into hole b", Andrew and I managed to set up a clothes hanger, a bed, a bookshelf, computer desk and a TV. After a few DVDs, mean-lean cuisine and a bag of popcorn, I awake to see the menu screen of South Park Season 9 Disc 2 repeating the same 37 seconds of music over and over. I snuggle in next to a deeply breathing and exhausted Ikea/Officeworks superman.
Someone walks down the hall upstairs which causes me to stir -12:39am. They run. They fall. They laugh. For AGES! A train goes by. People leave the pub on the corner and stumble and swear their way down the street. Someone falls again upstairs and music starts. Perhaps they have an army of breakdancing midgets up there? The whole house shakes. I cough. A plane flies overhead. A train goes by. The midgets begin to salsa. More music. Andrew rolls over, headbuts me in the nose. More people from the pub spill out onto the street. A fight begins "get off 'im ya'ass'ole". A train goes by. I cough. The midgets jump and turn up their music. I turn on some music. I turn off some music. "Oh yeah, fuck that feels good" - the midgets are having sex. The bed head smashes against their wall which creates a chain reaction causing the door to rattle. 'Oh Oh Oh Oh my GOD!" they change position. Train. They change position. Another Train. The upstairs toilet flushes and the shower starts. 5am. I snuggle into Superman and put a pillow over my head.
6:15am - alarm bleeps away - a funny little tune that resembles the xylophone riff in american beauty. Andrew will go on a 35km hike. I will return to my Princess Bed, my fluffy pink flamingo in the next room, and I will blog and bitch and moan.
But I'll do it all again just to have another snuggle and headbut from the long distance walking superman. So worth it!
Here are sandmans tips for sharehouse living
1. Don't wear corduroy pants if your thighs touch at the top. It means you can't eavesdrop because they can hear you coming in advance, and they stop bitching.
2. Always be the second last person to go to bed, so no one else can bitch about you.
3. Make sure you're the second person up in the morning so you can talk about the others, before they talk about you.
4. Hunting in packs and using weapons made from sarcasm makes one feel more comfortable.
5. Make friends with any couples in the sharehouse. That way you stand a better chance of being in the majority on most domestic issues.
7. Don't lie on seagrass matting without a shirt on - you get an itchy back.
8. When two flatmates still touch it means they haven't done it yet.
9. Secrets and gossip give you power.
10. Don't hide a vomit with a flat mates cushion. It only makes them angry.
11. Secrets about other flatmates give you power.
12. Get the front room in a sharehouse so you can sneak your washing out for your parents to do without anyone knowing.
13. When two flatmates stop touching, it means they've done it.
14. Pretend nothing happened and the problem goes away.
15. If a flatmates eyebrows arch when they say: 'No, I didn't drink all the milk' - they're lying.
16. Never sleep with a flatmate.
17. If you do, your a f**kin legend.
18. When a man sees another man naked, it's fine to take little bird-like glances. But if you stare too long, you appear unsettling.
19. Clothes are clean even if they're dirty providing they haven't been seen for two weeks.
23. If you're not funny yourself, try teasing a third person.
24. A firm shower can feel like an experienced lover's hands.
25. Sarcasm makes you feel comfortable.
30. When you're isolated, you look pathetic.
31. One way to stay awake at a dinner party is to talk about yourself.
32. The straighter they are, the more likely.
35. A well developed butt is not always an advantage.
37. You always get a little cheer when you pull your pants down in a share house.
38. If you're eavesdropping, don't look directly at the person you're eavesdropping on.
40. A closed door creates interest.
41. You always get a little cheer when you pull your pants down in a share house.
It's been such a warm and cozy cuckoon living with my little pink flamingo in the room next door there that I had forgotten what it was like to sleep (attempt to sleep) in a share house.
Between the years of 2004-2008 I lived with 8 different flatmates in 5 different houses. I also slept in the aptly named 'crack den' in Wollongong where the rats nibbled on my toes and the smackies pilaged and plundered in the housing comission next door.
Hold the phone!
17/07/2010.
Palace Street, Petersham.
After kicking and swearing and "gently tapping slot a into hole b", Andrew and I managed to set up a clothes hanger, a bed, a bookshelf, computer desk and a TV. After a few DVDs, mean-lean cuisine and a bag of popcorn, I awake to see the menu screen of South Park Season 9 Disc 2 repeating the same 37 seconds of music over and over. I snuggle in next to a deeply breathing and exhausted Ikea/Officeworks superman.
Someone walks down the hall upstairs which causes me to stir -12:39am. They run. They fall. They laugh. For AGES! A train goes by. People leave the pub on the corner and stumble and swear their way down the street. Someone falls again upstairs and music starts. Perhaps they have an army of breakdancing midgets up there? The whole house shakes. I cough. A plane flies overhead. A train goes by. The midgets begin to salsa. More music. Andrew rolls over, headbuts me in the nose. More people from the pub spill out onto the street. A fight begins "get off 'im ya'ass'ole". A train goes by. I cough. The midgets jump and turn up their music. I turn on some music. I turn off some music. "Oh yeah, fuck that feels good" - the midgets are having sex. The bed head smashes against their wall which creates a chain reaction causing the door to rattle. 'Oh Oh Oh Oh my GOD!" they change position. Train. They change position. Another Train. The upstairs toilet flushes and the shower starts. 5am. I snuggle into Superman and put a pillow over my head.
6:15am - alarm bleeps away - a funny little tune that resembles the xylophone riff in american beauty. Andrew will go on a 35km hike. I will return to my Princess Bed, my fluffy pink flamingo in the next room, and I will blog and bitch and moan.
But I'll do it all again just to have another snuggle and headbut from the long distance walking superman. So worth it!
Here are sandmans tips for sharehouse living
1. Don't wear corduroy pants if your thighs touch at the top. It means you can't eavesdrop because they can hear you coming in advance, and they stop bitching.
2. Always be the second last person to go to bed, so no one else can bitch about you.
3. Make sure you're the second person up in the morning so you can talk about the others, before they talk about you.
4. Hunting in packs and using weapons made from sarcasm makes one feel more comfortable.
5. Make friends with any couples in the sharehouse. That way you stand a better chance of being in the majority on most domestic issues.
7. Don't lie on seagrass matting without a shirt on - you get an itchy back.
8. When two flatmates still touch it means they haven't done it yet.
9. Secrets and gossip give you power.
10. Don't hide a vomit with a flat mates cushion. It only makes them angry.
11. Secrets about other flatmates give you power.
12. Get the front room in a sharehouse so you can sneak your washing out for your parents to do without anyone knowing.
13. When two flatmates stop touching, it means they've done it.
14. Pretend nothing happened and the problem goes away.
15. If a flatmates eyebrows arch when they say: 'No, I didn't drink all the milk' - they're lying.
16. Never sleep with a flatmate.
17. If you do, your a f**kin legend.
18. When a man sees another man naked, it's fine to take little bird-like glances. But if you stare too long, you appear unsettling.
19. Clothes are clean even if they're dirty providing they haven't been seen for two weeks.
23. If you're not funny yourself, try teasing a third person.
24. A firm shower can feel like an experienced lover's hands.
25. Sarcasm makes you feel comfortable.
30. When you're isolated, you look pathetic.
31. One way to stay awake at a dinner party is to talk about yourself.
32. The straighter they are, the more likely.
35. A well developed butt is not always an advantage.
37. You always get a little cheer when you pull your pants down in a share house.
38. If you're eavesdropping, don't look directly at the person you're eavesdropping on.
40. A closed door creates interest.
41. You always get a little cheer when you pull your pants down in a share house.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Krumpets
1 Playstation2 dusted off
1 glass of wine
1 glass of milk
1 glass of water
1 cup of coffee
1 mug of hot chocolate
1 bottle of juice
1 Shaw and 1 Hinchon
3 pancakes
6 pillows
12 text messages recieved
15 mins of watching a GaGa interpretive pantless canned corn movement piece
I feel a bit like I'm waiting for the bus that will never come.
Is it just me, or does it seem that the bus only stops for the lazy people?
Here's me - beating my head relentlessly against a brick wall, carrying loads of bags whilst I scream at the top of my lungs and wave my arms, and the 428 screams straight past me to the people lazing about on the grass up ahead. They trip-trapped across their trolless bridge for some tasty clover and airconditioned bus, while I battled the troll using nothing but a sharpened toothbrush and a blow torch fashioned from a flyspray can and a 70c GoLo lighter with a picture of a naked lady on the side.
M-m-m-metaphors. Ohhhh Yeaaaaaah!
Teachers - you know that one kid that you feel you've reached? 8 year old Archie I managed to teach mic technique, stage presence, connecting with the audience and the importance of volume - all in the matter of 4 days. Sweet, considerate and wonderful kid.
I dreamed.
Or is it dreamt.
I took the kids to the Colluseum in Rome as they wanted to see one of the earliest theatres. We popped on the bus and pulled up to the looming beast - which was made of corrugated iron. While touring around the top, there was a giant crack. I look over and Archie has literally Maud Flanders-ed over the edge. I ran down hundreds of stairs to reach his side while I shouted his name over and over. I couldn't touch him as he was clearly broken. Helpless. Hopeless. When I looked up, I could see the other 44 children from the workshop peering over the edge watching - their faces were blank.
1 glass of wine
1 glass of milk
1 glass of water
1 cup of coffee
1 mug of hot chocolate
1 bottle of juice
1 Shaw and 1 Hinchon
3 pancakes
6 pillows
12 text messages recieved
15 mins of watching a GaGa interpretive pantless canned corn movement piece
I feel a bit like I'm waiting for the bus that will never come.
Is it just me, or does it seem that the bus only stops for the lazy people?
Here's me - beating my head relentlessly against a brick wall, carrying loads of bags whilst I scream at the top of my lungs and wave my arms, and the 428 screams straight past me to the people lazing about on the grass up ahead. They trip-trapped across their trolless bridge for some tasty clover and airconditioned bus, while I battled the troll using nothing but a sharpened toothbrush and a blow torch fashioned from a flyspray can and a 70c GoLo lighter with a picture of a naked lady on the side.
M-m-m-metaphors. Ohhhh Yeaaaaaah!
Teachers - you know that one kid that you feel you've reached? 8 year old Archie I managed to teach mic technique, stage presence, connecting with the audience and the importance of volume - all in the matter of 4 days. Sweet, considerate and wonderful kid.
I dreamed.
Or is it dreamt.
I took the kids to the Colluseum in Rome as they wanted to see one of the earliest theatres. We popped on the bus and pulled up to the looming beast - which was made of corrugated iron. While touring around the top, there was a giant crack. I look over and Archie has literally Maud Flanders-ed over the edge. I ran down hundreds of stairs to reach his side while I shouted his name over and over. I couldn't touch him as he was clearly broken. Helpless. Hopeless. When I looked up, I could see the other 44 children from the workshop peering over the edge watching - their faces were blank.
Friday, July 9, 2010
All the Teapots Jibber Jabber Joo...
Ok... So I'll try this new fandangeled blog thingy that all the kids are trying... Thanks Bennie!!!
JULY SO FAR...
1/2 a new song
1 succesful audition (cabaret girl-group... think Andrews Sisters)
1 parafin manicure
1 blog created
1 newborn baby held (and NOT dropped... a-thankyou!)
1 photoshoot
2 lifts given to self absorbed hip hop rappers - no petrol rewarded.
3 tins of soup
4 mandarin jellycups
5 pre-prepared salads
10 nails lashed with blood red chipping polish
45 screaming children
and I have dreamed.
Boy have I dreamed.
Or is it dreamt?
I was being led to the gas chambers. Shod in my gold high top sneakers I crunched down the pebble path to the emerald green door. All other inmates had been gassed earlier that day. Behind the door was a scout hall filled with macaroni pictures hanging from the ceiling and tents drying out due to an earlier rain storm. I was to complete a crossword in under half an hour or the room was to fill with gas causing my brain to melt and my eyes to explode. The clues were smudged across the page and made little sense.
Someone was hiding under the table and whispered for me to escape by simply removing the hinges from the back door. I snuck through the tents and knocked off the hinges and began running through a series of concrete tunnels and sewers. I emerged in the snow out the front of the emerald green door. There was Robert Pattinson holding a bicycle for me. I could ride it to safety. I cautiously took the bike from him and rode into Vienna. I rode down a cobblestone street and into a candy shop with walls made of honeycomb - the crumbly kind like from a crunchie, not from a violet crumble (although violet crumble is a FAR better name for a chockie!). I knew then i was safe from the gas. I tunneled my way through some crunchie honeycomb and snuggled up in a little cave with my little marshmallow bird.
At a meeting today to discuss music and content to teach 18mth-8yrs dance, I remembered this song. It brought me joy.
Is that it?
Is that how I blog?
JULY SO FAR...
1/2 a new song
1 succesful audition (cabaret girl-group... think Andrews Sisters)
1 parafin manicure
1 blog created
1 newborn baby held (and NOT dropped... a-thankyou!)
1 photoshoot
2 lifts given to self absorbed hip hop rappers - no petrol rewarded.
3 tins of soup
4 mandarin jellycups
5 pre-prepared salads
10 nails lashed with blood red chipping polish
45 screaming children
and I have dreamed.
Boy have I dreamed.
Or is it dreamt?
I was being led to the gas chambers. Shod in my gold high top sneakers I crunched down the pebble path to the emerald green door. All other inmates had been gassed earlier that day. Behind the door was a scout hall filled with macaroni pictures hanging from the ceiling and tents drying out due to an earlier rain storm. I was to complete a crossword in under half an hour or the room was to fill with gas causing my brain to melt and my eyes to explode. The clues were smudged across the page and made little sense.
Someone was hiding under the table and whispered for me to escape by simply removing the hinges from the back door. I snuck through the tents and knocked off the hinges and began running through a series of concrete tunnels and sewers. I emerged in the snow out the front of the emerald green door. There was Robert Pattinson holding a bicycle for me. I could ride it to safety. I cautiously took the bike from him and rode into Vienna. I rode down a cobblestone street and into a candy shop with walls made of honeycomb - the crumbly kind like from a crunchie, not from a violet crumble (although violet crumble is a FAR better name for a chockie!). I knew then i was safe from the gas. I tunneled my way through some crunchie honeycomb and snuggled up in a little cave with my little marshmallow bird.
At a meeting today to discuss music and content to teach 18mth-8yrs dance, I remembered this song. It brought me joy.
Is that it?
Is that how I blog?
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