I'm not one to gossip, but...

It was the blurst of times...

2011-04-27T22:07:00.002+10:00

I was talking to Beau the other day (That's right: he of the Tightly Buttoned Sleeves ) about how badly I wish I could start blogging again, but how whenever I tried, I always seemed to be in the midst of the general series of ridiculous occurrences that pretty much define my existence. Anytime I gave it a go, it felt like I was trying to explain an episode of an established television show to someone that had thoroughly enjoyed the first few episodes of season one.

To put that in context, imagine jumping from the Buffy pilot to the Season Four finale, without ANY of the backstory of what filled in the gaps. We're talking THAT level of incomprehension. Most of the characters look the same, but where we are, and how we got there? And why Willow is kissing girls now? That takes build up. But Beau convinced me to just ignore all of that. Pick something, and run with it. We can fill the back-story in as we go.

And at the moment, the thing REALLY occupying my mind a lot, is Borders. The bookshop that featured so heavily in my life over the last few years has gone into receivership. They're closing the doors, and soon, they'll just be a memory. So many good people that I'll always remember fondly have been made redundant, and for some inexplicable reason, even though I haven't worked there in over a year, it feels like a really personal loss. Which is dumb. I hated working there in the end. It was a nightmare. I used to sit in my car and just cry after a shift sometimes. It was THAT level of awful.

But the people? Some of the best people I've ever known, I only met because of that place. In a time in my life where everything was falling apart because of my breakup with Michael, these people provided stability, and acceptance, and became family. If it wasn't for Borders, Parkhill never would have become what it is today, and I shudder to think the person I would have become without the love and guidance of those amazing people.

Which is why it seems so strange to think, some time soon, the doors will close, the lights will go out, and the shelves that WE put up and filled with our bare hands will be disassembled and destroyed. Kind of devastating really. To make matters worse, souring what should have been a time of solidarity and togetherness, a rogue bitchy element in the place seem to have made it their mission to fuck heavily with Sarah, a crime I don't forgive lightly, and which led to me being UNinvited to the Borders Farewell. (How childish is THAT!) Which sucks. Because I'd love to drink to the stores memory with people that I haven't seen in so long, united in the knowledge that WE had something to do with the places success. But I can't go to an event like that and look the people that betrayed one of MY best friends in the eyes. I'm just not wired for that.

But whatever. The beauty of memories is that they last forever, and the beauty of that place is I made friendships that even now, years down the line, I know I'll carry with me for the rest of my life. Much like the way you never forget a REALLY good book. It's never far from your heart.

That's it, Glee. Suck my balls.

2011-01-25T00:06:00.002+11:00

It's funny, the things that can drive me to start blogging again. Sometimes, something exciting will happen that I really want to share with the world. (By which I mean with the two people that still occasionally bother to check this place). Sometimes, I'll feel some sort of guilt at the fact I haven't updated in a while. And then, some days, I'll just be so monumentally pissed off about something that the only way I can adequately unleash the fury is by expressing myself in blog, so as to publicly (again, by which I mean to you two) acknowledge my indignation and rage. Guess what type of post you're getting today!

Let me preface this by acknowledging the fact that, in the past, I've used this very blog to sing the praises of Glee. Even this season, when almost everyone I know has stopped watching, and even I have to admit the show has been terrible, I've stuck in there. Because no matter how bad it was, I wanted it to get good again. I was like a battered wife, and Glee was my liquored up husband. I was prepared to keep telling people I was walking into the door, because every now and then, he'd come home sober and tell me how pretty I look. And that made me forget about all the bad things.

But then, Glee went and won a Golden Globe for Best Musical/ Comedy TV series. Which is all good and well, until you realise that it beat 30 Rock, Modern Family, AND The Big C. Are you fucking kidding me? Those three shows are three of the most well written, intelligent, HILARIOUS shows I've ever watched, and they were beaten by the inane adventures of a High School Glee Club? In what parallel world does that make sense, exactly? What episodes could the judges have POSSIBLY been watching that made this seem like a good decision? Was it the bad acting? The redundant songs? The lack of a continuing storyline? Honestly- as somebody that has made NO secret of my guilty obsession with Glee, even *I* can't think of a single reason for anybody claiming it's a better show than the other three! And I know everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but really? Is ANYBODY (apart from the Golden Globe judges) going to stand there and tell me that this seems to make any kind of sense?

I suppose I should be glad it happened. It made me angry enough to finally get sick of his shit. Glee, when you come home, expect to see my stuff gone, with a short note telling you I've moved out, and not to come looking for me this time. We're over. I can't take this abuse anymore. I'm sorry.

Spoilers!

2010-12-07T09:41:00.004+11:00

I've generally got a pretty strict "when in rome" policy when it comes to doing weird or unusual shit, which, thankfully, has always gone pretty well, and lead to some pretty interesting (and sometimes downright stupid) adventures. But it almost always gives me something to talk about. Which is why, when Simon, Wade and I were in Sydney on Sunday, we decided to take advantage of a handwritten sign on a scary looking door that said "Psychic Readings Within". Because why the hell not? I've always been kind of curious to have my fortune read, and this seemed as good an oppurtunity as ever. Now, I'm not sure if you know this or not, but I'm a big fan of theatricality over reality, so when Wade and I (Simon was FAR too sensible for this nonsense) ventured indoors, I was immeadiately thrilled that the store resembled a messier version of the Magic Box from Buffy, and after we paid, we had to follow a sign up the stairs that said "Ascend to the Oracle". So far so good.

Then, the Oracle appeared, and I shit you not, she was a seventy year old, one-eyed french woman. I couldn't make this shit up. The ONLY way I would have been more into it at this stage would have been if the door had been opened by this woman:

And as impressed as I would have been, I still probably would have asked for my money back. Anyone that can make Hermione Granger lose her shit aint worth my $25... So, everything was proceeding well, and then the reading started. And thats where it started to go downhill...

Now, I freely admit to being a slightly cynical person when it comes to stuff like this. But I'm cynical with a hint of optimism, because deep down, I really WANT that crazy, blow-your-mind experience people talk about. I was the same on the ghost tour I went on. I WANTED to be scared shitless, but couldn't get over my own skepticism. So it's possible that my problems here weren't entirely the fault of the vision impaired clairvoyant lumped with the task of giving me the upcoming spoilers of my life, but still. I was underwhelmed.

Here's what we learnt:

Travel is on the agenda. Love is just around the corner. I'll change jobs within a year. It's ok to be gay.

Which is all great, if slightly generic, until you realise one thing. I'M IN MY MID FUCKING TWENTIES.

TRAVEL- What person my age HASN'T got a trip planned somewhere? Especially when she felt the need to clarify that it wasn't necessarily a big trip, just that I'd be going somewhere. Like, I dunno, BACK TO NEWCASTLE??? Nice job, psychic sally. But seriously, without a destination or a time frame, thats an unimpressive guess, at best, as far as I'm concerned.

LOVE- She asked if I was seeing someone at the moment. When I said no, she smiled and said "You will be soon". I suppose that sales pitch is more impressive than "You're going to die a lonely old spinster and your dog will probably eat your corpse," but it's still not an overly informative piece of info. It's not like I'm some kind of hideous mountain goblin- I did kind of assume there would be someone in the future somewhere. I'm a single homosexual. Of COURSE somebody is in my future. It's just how it works.

WORK- What person in my generation is settled enough in their job that a career-change isn't at least a thought that has been MILDLY entertained at some point? We're known for being flighty! If she REALLY wanted to impress me, she could have told me WHAT I'd be doing, so I'd know when to apply for it! At this rate, I still have to do all the work! What's the point of knowing the future if I only know enough to go in chanting the mantra "Stay the course..."

GAY PRIDE: I walked in wearing tight jeans and rainbow converse. I think I crossed the "Good to be gay" bridge a while back. Seriously. Loved the reassurance, but look at me. Do I look like I'm struggling to deal with my sexual identity? I haven't been in a closet for so long, Aslan is sending me christmas cards addressed to "Mitchell". Stupid lion.

So, my first psychic reading was a tad underwhelming. It's not that I needed to OVERwhelmed, but just whelmed in general would have been nice. Maybe one or two bits of info that I had to admit was a little creepy, or wonder how she'd figured it out. Instead, I think I just received a stock standard, generic Gen Y reading. Which sucks. I wanted to find out that I was going to punch Winona Ryder, or get a pet monkey, or go to the moon or something. On that token, maybe I should become a fortune teller? At least I've got two eyes- surely that makes me twice as good at seeing the future than the one I saw?

I'm so cynical it hurts.

Utter fail.

2010-12-03T09:40:00.002+11:00

Turns out that blog I posted yesterday, of all the tattoo designs I liked and disliked, failed miserably (cos I'm retarded like that) and none of the pictures actually showed up. Which is awkward, in a post that kind of existed wholey and solely FOR the pictures. Damn internet, thwarting me at every turn (because, you know, it couldn't POSSIBLY have been me making a mistake)

Anyway, I THINK I've fixed the problem, so if you looked and couldn't figure out what the FUCK was going on, have another go. The problem was probably your fault anyway.

Oh, and just for kicks, here's another design I like...

Although to be honest, now that I've waited a few days, I'm less keen for a new tattoo. I think I have issues...

Ink me baby, one more time.

2010-12-01T10:34:00.004+11:00

When I got my tattoo, lots of people warned me that it was an addictive experience, and that it wouldn't be long before I'd be strapping myself back in the chair for another go. Knowing that I don't have an addictive personality (*cough*), I figured I was safe, and ignored all such warnings.

In a completely UNRELATED note, I kind of want another tattoo. The trouble is, I'm having a REALLY hard time picking something that not only LOOKS awesome, but that has some sort of significance or emotional connection that I'm confident wont wear off in a few years. See, the Batwoman tattoo I got, I adore. And I'm confident I'll always adore it. Because it's a snapshot of a very specific time in my life, and not only do I like the symbol, but it matters. It's a way of reminding myself, every time I look at it, that I'm in control of my own life. Which sounds wanky, but have we met?

So now, I'm faced with the challenge of finding something JUST as relevant, and equally nerdy, and you know what? That's harder than it sounds! At first I was considering getting the Converse symbol, like this:

But as much as I love cons, I don't love the idea of permanently marking myself with ANY kind of advertising. (Unless it's the JB Hifi sticker "Buy me, I'm cheap'...) Also, even though I DO have an unhealthy obsession with them, they ARE just shoes. And I'm not quite crazy enough to forget that.

Then I saw this one online, and wished I was a bigger Ghostbuster fan, because let's face it, it's pretty much the greatest thing ever:

But as much as I love the movies, I don't have any sort of obsession with them, and I think for the permanency of a tatt, your fan levels need to be a little higher. Other possibilities have included:

(too cutesy)

(possibly TOO obscure)

(Wallace Wells is awesome.)

In all my searches for nerd tattoos though, one that DOES keep popping up, and impresses the hell out of me, is this one-

BUT! I could never get it, for several reasons. Firstly, you'd have to maintain a relatively attractive, hair-free chest for the rest of eternity, and let's be honest- thats SO much work. Second, as someone pointed out, I DO want to have sex again at some stage in my life, and unless the other party is every bit as nerdy as I am, a tattoo like this could be a DEFINITE deal breaker. Thirdly, IT MAKES NO DAMN SENSE! If Spider-Mans skin was torn up like that, you'd see his insides, not his damn suit. So, as geeky as that makes me sound, I could never get a tattoo that would drive me insane with its total lack of logic for all eternity. It would just piss me off. And I'm not prepared to give up ALL future chances of getting busy for a tattoo that would make me crazy anytime I started to think about it!

But yeah, that's where I'm at. NO closer to figuring out what I want, but getting closer to thinking that possibly, I might want something. I'm decisive like that.

I do also like the idea of getting a quote from one of my favourite books, but how the hell do you narrow THAT down?? Look, this is all too much. Here. Have a picture of Michael Schofield, half naked and covered in tattoos. Because that's how I roll.

Romance. A lost art.

2010-11-29T10:57:00.003+11:00

Ok, so we ALL know I have issues when it comes to romance, and REALLY tend not to be the best at responding to "I love you". We could sit around for hours trying to figure out why that is, dissecting my inner psyche and diagnosing me with an ever-expanding list of eccentricities, OR, we can accept it as all part of the wonderfully quirky landscape that comes together neatly to make me me. I choose that one. But anyway, I was trying to figure out the PERFECT response, because let's face it, sometimes it does come out of nowhere, and thinking on my feet always seems to get me in trouble (And would probably make me respond with "Yeah, I love your mum. Real good") I found the three GREATEST responses when someone says "I love you". If I'm cool enough to go with ANY of these, I'll need some sort of medal or something. For winning at life.

1. THE MELODRAMATIC RESPONSE

(Ok, so the video didn't include the "I love you", but we get the picture. There's a reason she won an Oscar for this.)

2. THE DOCTORS RESPONSE

(If you're in a hurry, jump to 3:20 to see the important bit. Otherwise kick back and treat yourself to one of my favourite Doctor Who clips ever. If you don't tear up, you're dead inside. We probably shouldn't stay friends)

3. THE GREATEST RESPONSE

(Honestly, if this doesn't make you want to have Harrison Fords babies, you're lying. As arrogant as it sounds, this is the perfect response. PERFECT. If I'm ever dating anyone nerdy enough to get this reference, my life WILL be complete.)

And just because I love me some Star Wars:

I love you.

My music doesn't ALWAYS suck!

2010-11-26T22:28:00.002+11:00

See! Proof that my musical tastes aren't ALWAYS as predictable as people assume they are (musical theatre and Cher notwithstanding), I decided to share a song that I've been listening the HELL out of lately! I think this buys me cool points, if you're that way inclined. Personally, I'm not. But you might be. And if so, you're welcome. And consider yourself lucky it's not the new Cher song. Ah, Burlesque. It's like someone took a movie directly from my brain. But I digress.

Hello, Lovers!

2010-11-26T21:56:00.002+11:00

Wow- THAT was a pissweak attempt to restart regular programming! Look, in my defence... fuck off. I was busy. Doing what? I can't get into it, but let's just say, your mum says hi.

Actually, turns out, living with your parents and maintaining an award winning blog are two VERY difficult things to maintain at the same time, and because a house was SLIGHTLY more important than keeping you updated on the various eccentricities of my everyday life, this place suffered. Which is a shame, because I love keeping this thing. It's the one place I can unleash all my crazy without a therapist trying to medicate me. (Actually, thats a lie. I've been to a bunch of therapists, and not ONE has offered me the meds I've been craving. It's ridiculous)

So, as was always the plan, I've flown the coop again, and finally set myself up in the new house, but as could only be expected, the internet took six and a half years to connect. Which is frustrating, but there you have it. And on that note, I'm back, baby.

Now, I COULD get bogged down in recapping the last few months of my live, but you know me. I'm not one to get weighed down talking about myself, so let's just imagine one of those huge title cards flashed up on the screen on the Parkhill TV show...

And here we are. New house. New love interests. New characters. New season.

Parkhill is still going strong, and I'm back to do my bit by chronicling it. Well. Chronicling my bits. Cos I'm selfish like that. Selfish like awesome.

I'll Defy YOUR Gravity

2010-09-29T10:46:00.002+10:00

Like all good theatre-loving homosexuals, I do have a certain level of appreciation for all things Wicked. I know I've already spoken about how Wicked was the reason Sarah and I stuffed ourselves in the Echo for the worlds fastest roadtrip down to Melbourne a few years ago to see the show, and I'm pretty sure I mentioned that Ben and I went earlier this year. And the fact that I MAY have dressed as Elphaba for Halloween. Now, it's not my FAVOURITE musical of all time, but clearly, I'm a fan.

So when the Parkhill kids decided we needed to see it before it closed in Sydney, naturally, I was onboard. Especially because, you know, I didn't want my final Wicked experience to have been tainted by who it was with. And seeing it again with Sarah kind of felt like getting the band back together after we'd had such an amazing time the first time. So that was great. Seeing it the third time was marvelous, even if I DID make a complete dick of myself (let's face it- when DON'T I) when I whispered loudly to Sarah "OH! Ruby Slippers! Just like the MOVIE!!!!!". Since we last saw the show, this has become an inside joke between us due to the retards that had been sitting behind us the first time that clearly had NO idea what Wicked was about and felt the need to point out EVERY connection to the Wizard of Oz as it happened. It was cute. Sadly, the inside joke between Sarah and myself was lost on a theatre full of people, who have now all walked away thinking I was every bit as stupid as the people WE were sitting behind. The moral of the story? Don't talk in the theatre. You're going to look stupid. Anyway, I figure that was it. Three times the charm.

Then, my new friend from Melbourne, Dave, randomly suggests he fly up and we see it one Tuesday night. Now, you know I'm a total sucker for spontaneous fun, meeting new people AND musical theatre, so naturally, I was in. Drove to Sydney, saw the show, had a blast. Although I gotta say, the woman playing the lead that night? Not so great. Which was unfortunate for Dave, who was really holding out to see Jemma Rix again (the Primary Elphaba, and a bucket of talent) but which inspired the NEXT part of the Wicked adventure. Obviously, because he didn't want to miss her completely, the only sensible option was to go and see it AGAIN a few days later, for the shows final performance in Sydney!

If you're counting, we're up to five times now for me. Which sounds impressive, until I mention that it would have been his ELEVENTH. I'm slightly jealous. Anyway, because the universe likes to be a dick sometimes, Daves flight was cancelled, which sucks for him because the show was AMAZING, but the biggest highlight of the entire thing??? I bumped into Jemma Rix in the parking station at the end of the night after the show. It was lucky she still had green paint around her ears, or I'd NEVER have recognised her, but still, it was awesome. And because I'm a fabulous individual, I made her sign a program with a personalised message for Dave. Not to rub it in or anything...

Anyway, now the show's finished in Sydney, and I've seen it five times. And it sounds stupid, but I REALLY want to see it again- especially because I can't handle the fact I've seen it FIVE times. That's an odd number. And that bugs the crap out of me. So I NEED to see it again. Bring on Brisbane.

Parkhill: Still Kickin'

2010-09-05T21:12:00.002+10:00

You know, I've bragged about how awesome my friends are on SEVERAL occasions. Because let's face it. They are. But I haven't had much to say on the subject recently, and this isn't because they've grown less interesting, it's just because, well, I'm a self-absorbed tit. But despite that, my friends are truly the greatest people known to man. I used to assume that everyone thought that about their friends, but, you know, I've realised since that ISN'T always the case (sometimes a persons friends are so boring, even THEY can smell the beige) but thankfully, thats an accusation that can never be levelled at Parkhill. I mean, shit. We were at a red carpet event, fuckdammit!

Look!

And weep that YOU'RE not included. I love almost EVERY person in this picture. Some of them I don't actually know. They were introduced to freshen up the cast for ratings, I assume. I'm guessing they didn't makr it past sweeps though. Awkward for them...

I wish I was a mermaid...

2010-09-02T10:45:00.002+10:00

Yes. In this particular story, I'm Ariel. Despite the obvious resemblance to Flounder. Piss off.

Also, I love this musical, if only for this song. It's so fun!

Lifestyle of the Rich & Famous

2010-08-10T11:22:00.003+10:00

So, after years of bragging that it was only a matter of time, on Sunday, I finally managed to climb the social ladder and mingle with a better class of people. "Hobnob with the elite", I think the professional term is. I've discovered that Red Carpet Film Premieres are a great deal of awesome, especially when you're only slightly less famous than the "celebrities" that are actually paid to be there. To the extent where we managed to cut in front of at least one Home and Away star without realising who the hell he was, AND almost being intrviewed by several frazzled looking reporters who'd given up on recognising anyone of note. Almost being the key word. Sadly, I couldn't convince anyone that they wanted my autograph- not even when I offered to sign some ladies boob for free. True, the lady was Patty Newton, but still. She could have been polite and said yes- would it have killed her?

Apart from going to see the premiere of Tomorrow, When the War Began, the other purpose of the trip was to snag myself a famous boyfriend, but that didn't really go so well. Which is probably good, because my non-celebrity boyfriend may have had some issues, but it's early days yet- the less he knows about me the better, I feel. And it doesn't count as cheating if there's fame involved. Pretty sure that's a law somewhere (can we get a reference for that?)

But what of the film? I adored it! I'm not usually a fan of action movies (they stress me out, and subsequently age me prematurely) but this one was REALLY good- and not in that way where you say "really good for an Australian movie", in that patronising sense where you're really saying it was a bit shit but you feel you should support it anyway, but actually, genuinely, a great movie! It did further drive home the fact that I'm far too impressionable for my own good when I came home and started googling molotov cocktails so I could be as cool as Ellie, but beyond that, it was fabulous. I can't believe it was filmed so close to here, either. Parkhill NEEDS to get our asses into gear to become extras in the next one, assuming the first does well enough. Even in the Show Ground, just so we could say we were. Actually, I suppose we could always just lie and tell people we were in this one? I mean... we were totally in this one. Look close, you can see Sarah in the chase scene!

There was one scene where two characters discuss the fact that books are generally FAR better than movie adaptations which I thought was kind of brave (because imagine if the film had sucked- you'd look pretty stupid having pointed that shit out) but apart from that, it was a really intelligent, genuinely suspenseful movie. I wanna go again. I also want to fire weapons, blow shit up and go into hiding, but that's my burden. And you wonder why I think it's a bad thing for boyfriends to know too much?

Sing out, Louise!

2010-07-29T23:03:00.003+10:00

There are times when I realise I come across as a fairly suave individual, with an air of coolness about my person that reduces others to tears of jealousy and an overwhelming desire to emulate. It's both my gift and my curse. I've learnt to deal. However. One social situation in which this does NOT apply, apparantly, is when I'm busted in my car, singing Cher's "Turn Back Time", complete with hand movements and hair flicks, at the absolute top of my lungs by a group of heterosexual males that happened to pull up alongside me whilst we were both stopped at the same set of traffic lights.

Yeah. There's no smooth way to come back from that. Maybe if it was one or the other, horrendously loud OR ridiculously animated? But no. It was a mash-up of the two, and as I've since learnt, my car ISN'T some kind of Cone of Silence, in fact, it seems to have the worlds greatest acoustics, because I 'm pretty sure they heard every word. Every. Single. Word.

It wouldn't have been so bad, had I noticed they were there earlier. As it was, I managed to make it half way through the damn song before I twigged to the fact I was with audience, and from then, it seemed to take another seventeen minutes for the stupid lights to actually change, all the while with me trying to quietly disappear from the face of the planet, with no success.

What can I say? I was born to be on a stage. So long as, in all future experiences, that stage is as far removed from others as possible. Preferably in a soundproof room. With the door shut. And locked. From the outside.

Brand New Day!

2010-07-23T11:42:00.002+10:00

It's always fun when you look at yourself and get the smug satisfaction of knowing your life is back on track. That overwhelmingly good feeling where you look at your calendar and see that you've got an upcoming schedule full of fun and awesomeness, filled with people you can't get enough. From the simple pleasures, like a plan to watch Legally Blonde: The Musical, or hosting a Tupperware party, to the slightly more elaborate, such as seeing Wicked for the third time, or going to see JOSS FUCKING WHEDON live! (Hell yeah!)

Because I'm a firm believer that boredom should pretty much be reclassified as one of the seven deadly sins, (Surely nobody thinks "Lust" deserves to be on there anymore, am I right? Let's start a letter writing campaign...) which is why I try to be as constant as possible. I mean, it's worked pretty well for me so far. Despite the fact even I sometimes find me exhausting ("Hurricane Mikey", somebody once described me as, which I found apt) but I'd rather that than have my only memorable quality being my overwhelming sense of niceness. There's nothing that screams "BLAND INDIVIDUAL" more than someone describing you as "nice". Because really, that's such a cop out. Everyone's nice. Nice is how you describe furniture, not people.

So for the next few weeks/ months, a full agenda means I'll FINALLY have something to write about here again, which I think we can both agree (because you know you're the only person reading this, right) will be more entertaining than the continuing non-adventures of my love life. Although romantic mishaps DO tend to be entertaining, despite the fact I don't have a great deal to report on that front right now. I do have to admit though, it IS one of the more pleasant things about being single, doing that whole flirty/swoony thing all over again with new people, and finally finding people that respond to your looks, instead of just your exceedingly fabulous personality. What can I say? Flirting is fun!

This post has been kinda nonsensical, in hindsight. But if you think reading a stream of consciousness like this is exhausting, you should try camping out in my head sometime... It gets worse...

It's a safe place

2010-07-19T10:18:00.003+10:00

It's no secret that my blog is a Pro- Darren Hayes place. He made me gay, did you know? (There's a story there- remind me to tell you some time!) As such, there's a pretty special spot in my heart for him, and his very voice invokes a sense of swooning inside me that is largely unparalleled. Which is why this song leaves me feeling ALL kinds of happy. And deserves to be posted. And lets face it. Anyone that can make a Delta Goodrem song sound this interesting deserves some sort of brownie points! (I WILL be honest though. He does look a little chunky in the film clip. Not his greatest look- watch it with your eyes half closed...)

Holy crap- when did THAT happen?

2010-07-13T23:23:00.001+10:00

You know what's a terrifying thought? That moment when, out of the blue, you look at your life and realise "Holy shit. I'm a grown up! When did THAT happen?" Because really, I still don't FEEL particularly grown up. And when I look in the mirror, I don't SEE a grown up (immature man-child comes to mind, but not "grown up"), but the evidence is there, that when it comes to life, I'm definitely sitting squarely in the "adult" category.

And that scares the christ out of me.

Because look at me- I SHOULDN'T be an adult.

Adults know how to do things like their laundry BEFORE it gets to crisis levels and they're forced to either wash or buy new undies.

Adults know things about politics and the world in general. Or at least more than they do about the world in general in the DC Universe. Actually, do adults bother themselves with the fact fictitious universes exist?

Adults don't consult a Magic 8-Ball for major life decisions, to the extent where they download an App for it on their phone in case they need to make decisions on the run!

So, I've decided. Accompanying this epiphany, I'm making a concentrated effort to be more of a grown up here on in. Grown up decisions, grown up time management skills and grown up relationships (he says whilst listening to Legally Blonde: The Musical and playing with a Sonic Screwdriver and shopping for Cher Barbies in the other window)

I'm not sure why this whole thing has shocked me so much- I think it's because I've always expected there would be something that would LEAD to adulthood, instead of a general merge that you don't notice coming. I mean, if my life were a TV show, and had been for several years as I've always maintained, surely we're reaching that awkward stage where the audience realises they're all far too old for these dramas! So it's settled. We either need to spin off into a more age-appropriate setting, or risk cancellation. And I don't DO cancellation.

So. Grown up. Spread the word.

Sigh. Not again...

2010-07-13T10:06:00.004+10:00

So, it's time for the annual Angus & Robertson Top 100 Books list to come out, and I'm really not sure why I anticipate this so much every year. It's like anticipating new Star Wars movies. You can't help it, but you know you're going to be disappointed. And this year is no exception. Fuck you, A&R. There, I said it. These lists are getting progressively worse, and they're proving, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Australians shouldn't be allowed to vote for anything, ever. Because as a nation, we're obviously retarded.

The first thing that grinds my gears (and from memory, I bitched about this last year as well) is the fact that in the top three spaces, we already have FOURTEEN FUCKING BOOKS! In THREE SPACES! What the hell is with that? Isn't that against the rules? Doesn't it defeat the purpose? And, of course, "The Twilight Saga" is number one. (Harry Potter Series is #2 and The Millennium Trilogy is #3) Yep. Australia's number one piece of literature is the Twilight Saga. All four of them, apparently, held equally to a pinnacle of literary genius, beating out Pride & Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird and The Book Thief. Does that seem right to you? I mean, sure. Let's say for a second that Twilight IS just that good. Do the other three need to be considered equal? Because I've read them. And they're not. Mandatory inclusion is as stupid as saying that because Jaws is a fantastic movie, all of the sequels should be regarded with equal respect. Even Jaws 3D. And NOBODY says that about Jaws 3D.

The other thing pissing me off about the list is how obviously the books on there are reflected in film. Last year, the Book Thief was #7, The Lovely Bones was #17, and Time Travelers Wife was #21. The latter two had movies come out in the last twelve months, and guess what! This year, The Lovely Bones is #5, Time Travelers Wife is #9 and The Book Thief is #10! The ONLY reason for that fluctuation is the fact that people saw the movies. I REFUSE to believe that level of change is due to the fact that people have only just started discovering books from five years ago. There should be a rule that you can only vote for a book after answering a questionnaire proving you've read it. Otherwise, I call bullshit on this entire list.

And finally, you know what REALLY shits me? Not ONE of the books I voted for made it. Ok, fine, my bunch of grapes may be slightly sour, but christ! Not one?

I voted for:

The Other Hand by Chris Cleave
Watchmen by Alan Moore
Bridget Jones Diary by Helen Fielding
Stardust by Neil Gaiman
Northern Lights by Philip Pullman

And you know what? I know that none of those books deserve to be number one. Hell, they probably don't even deserve the Top Ten. But when you've got Five Matthew Reilley books, The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown and Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls already occupying spaces on the list?

Fuck you list. Fuck you in the ear.

Mikey: Now with street cred!

2010-07-09T10:59:00.003+10:00

Out of curiousity, does anyone remember this post? http://notonetogossipbut.blogspot.com/2009/05/need-advice.html

It's from May last year, and it's me yabbering on about the tattoo I'd finally decided on. Well, given that now is the perfect time for an image upheaval, and I've already got the new wardrobe and the new hair, I figured I'd procrastinated enough. I can't decide wether it counts as impulsive or not, when you've been planning it for over twelve months, but when the actual decision is made the day before, thats gotta count for something, right?

I made the decision to get my shiny new tattoo before work yesterday, and excitement gave way to terror pretty much the moment I walked into the premises and saw the locals. Tattooed scary people who's topics of conversations alternated between mercenary friends that love killing people and sexual practices I don't think even have names yet. So obviously, the homosexual sitting there wanting a Batwoman tattoo felt slightly out of place. But, I was there, and figured I might as well see it through, and half an hour later, had this to show for it:

First question people tend to ask: Did it hurt? And the answer is, fuck yes. It really, REALLY hurt. But after a while, it kinda just became a pain you're comfortable with, and at no point was I tempted to yank my wrist away like I was worried I would. I figured you never see people with half finished tattoos because they couldn't handle the pain, so it mustn't be TOO bad, and I was right. You know that good pain? It was that. (By "good pain", did I just reveal a little too much about myself? Oops.) To the point where when she asked me if I wanted her to go back over the outline, I said yes, instead of trying to end it as fast as possible.

Second question tends to be: Does it mean anything? And the best part is, yeah. It does. I mean, there's the obvious "Batman" level on which it's awesome (well, Batwoman, but still. There's a connection). But like most good symbols, there's a far deeper meaning to it which I feel is important. It sums me up, as well as my life outlook, and it's suitably wanky, as well. But I didn't just get it because it's pretty, which I think is important.

And you know what? At the end of the day, I have this on me. Forever. And I'm pretty damn happy with that!

Note: Dried blood NOT permanent addition to tattoo...

Letting it lie

2010-07-09T10:55:00.002+10:00

So, I've been tempted to come on here for a while and talk a bit of smack about the break up. You know, new information has come to light, and as I'm want to do, writing about is my way of dealing. But I've decided against it. Bitter isn't a good colour on me, and I'd much rather take the moral high ground and do the classy thing. At least once. So, sadly, despite this essentially being a gossipy blog, there will be no dirt dished, or mud slung.

Let's just move along and be better people. And bitch about Lindsay Lohan going to prison. Because isn't that more entertaining??

Masculinity Aplenty!

2010-07-04T15:18:00.001+10:00

You know that lesson everyone tries to teach you, when you buy your first car? That one where they think it's SO important that you know how to change your own tyres, should anything ever happen, and you sort of stand there thinking "Surely SOMEONE will do that for me, right??" Yeah, turns out thats one of those things it helps to pay attention to. I know, right! I'm as shocked as you are.

So I discovered this life lesson, as I always tend to, the hard way, when the other day, I was driving to work, and someone in the car next to me felt the need to point out my rear tyre was flat. At first I assumed his attempts to get me to wind my window down were to critique my choice in music (you'd be suprised how often that happens), and I actually would have preferred that. At least I have a standard response to that situation. As it was, I had nothing. I knew I had to get to a service station, which fortunately, wasn't difficult, but from that point on, I no longer had the situation under control.

First, I had to attempt to pump up the tyre. Despite the fairly obvious flatness that was apparent, even to other motorists. In my mind, this was pretty much going to solve everything. Stick the pump thingy on and continue on my way. Sadly, and as is a repeated theme in my life, it wasn't that simple. Because no sooner did I pump it up than the stupid wheel deflated again, before my very eyes. Just like in a cartoon. I didn't even know tyres WORKED like that.

So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to drive somewhere to buy a new tyre. In hindsight, this plan may have been slightly flawed, but it seemed solid at the time. Of course, it took about five minutes for me to realise my wheel was about to fall off, and I'd need to take matters into my own hands. By changing my own tyre. Sigh.

Now, heading to work, I was dressed pretty well. New jacket, hair done, fancy rainbow cons... none of these things are conducive to manual labour in the rain, especially when you don't actually know the first thing about what you're doing.

Suprising EVERYONE, I actually managed to change the tyre. Successfully. With a minimum of fuss. But lord it was a trying half an hour. I was struck with the ridiculousness of the situation when I finally managed to locate my car jack thingy (who knew the boot had a false bottom! Ingenious!) only to find it was covered in glitter. I'm fairly sure that's not a common complaint amongst most car-minded people. Seems appropriate in mine though...

Lighter side of misery

2010-06-29T10:43:00.003+10:00

You know? Look at that background. That rainbow is FAR too chirpy from the misery of that last post! So, brand new day. You know what? Emotion makes people uncomfortable, especially me, and the last thing I want is for this blog to turn into one of those awkward "downward spiral into self destruction" thing. So I wont! Just so you know.

Which doesn't mean there WONT be stages of sad, because hell, grieving a relationship is the same as grieving a death. It's bound to manifest here and there some more. It just means I'm back to being me. And that's someone who'd rather stab myself in the foot than be considered a depressive tit. I've done my excercises (by which I mean watched Steel Magnolias AND Beaches... do yourself a favour by not asking how many times) which means it's time for me to be back, and dealing with this thing with the same vaguely cynical, self-deprecating eye I turn on everything else.

Basically, it just means my life now is going to involve more awkward moments where I note the disturbing similarity between myself and the following fictional characters:

Grace Adler, Liz Lemon and Bridget Jones. A trio of ridiculousness. I always knew I was destined to become one of them, I just never knew it was going to be an amalgamation of all three. But you know what? I'm pretty sure I can make it work for me. I mean, Bridget ended up with Mr Darcy, right? (Ok, true, Grace ended up with Harry Connick Jr, but surely there's no omnipotent being in the universe that hates me THAT much...)

Bottom line is, I'm back, baby. And to celebrate, I'm planning some SEVERE retail therapy this weekend. I'll let you know how it goes!

=[

2010-06-23T00:57:00.004+10:00

A blog without words? My symbolic pretentiousness knows no bounds...

This blog needs more porn

2010-06-20T13:33:00.003+10:00

In order to be truly successful on the internet, it's pretty common knowledge that you need to involve pornography in some way. So, instead of taking some kind of moral high ground and refusing to succumb to base lowest common denominators, I've decided to spice things up a bit!

Now, I'm not sure wether this is something that will turn out to be common knowledge, and I'll look like a dumbass for getting excited about it, but whilst in Wollongong, Clare opened my eyes to a world I never even knew existed. Parody Pornography. And I don't mean in the sense that it's parodying porn somehow, in a clever satire way. I mean this:

Porn aspect aside, how fucking awesome is the set in that thing! Is this endorsed somehow? Like, have they used the same building for the auditorium? If not, that really shows commitment to the cause! But Glee isn't the only one! There are heaps! And some are really weird. Like The Office. Who watches that and decides it needs to be sexier?

The best part about that one has to be that it's actually being funny! Are people really looking for punchlines in porn? I never would have guessed that- aren't they busy with...well, other things when they're watching it?

And this one just gets stranger. Sigh. Internet, you've done it again. Just when I thought my days of shaking my head in disbelief at your shenanigans were over...

Glee plus alcohol equals...

2010-06-20T13:21:00.002+10:00

Well, equals pretty much what you'd expect it to, I think. A show that manages to be that ridiculous sober can only by improved by intoxication, and using that theory as a guide, the GLEE DRINKING GAME was born! Now, if you're one of the three people that actually read this thing, chances are you already have at least a passing appreciation for Glee in all it's campy awesomeness, so it stands equally to reason that you can't wait to discover this game, discovered by myself, Benjamin and Clare on a Wild Wollongongian Weekend.

So, given that the decision was made to turn a regular innocent Glee marathon into a night of drunken debauchery, we needed rules. Turns out thats pretty simple. When ANY of the following occurs- a drink must bet taken. I suggested we try it with spirits, but as Benjamin pointed out, we'd probably die. The boys a thinker.

Anyway. Drink when:

- Whenever there's a musical number

- Finn looks confused about something

- Every time Rachel complains about something

- Every time Sue makes a caustic remark about someone or something

- Every time Mike Chang dances

- Every time Mercedes shows off with a high note

- Any time the episodes title is directly mention (worth noting: we were watching the episode "Funk". It's used a lot)

- Whenever Kurt changes outfits

- Whenever Brittany does ANYTHING

- There's a dramatic confrontation between anyone

- They have a celebrity guest

Needless to say, we ended up pretty hammered. After about twenty minutes. And then proceeded to watch more. Intelligence has never been one of my stronger attributes, fortunately an immunity to alcohol poisoning HAS been. Otherwise things could have been messy...

Offensive to ANY religion!

2010-06-15T23:13:00.003+10:00

For a multitude of reasons, each one more scintillating than the last, I found myself in Wollongong this weekend just gone, a sentence I can honestly say that, up until now, I've never had need to utter. And the surprising thing was, I actually really enjoyed myself. Far from my image of walking up a main street and reenacting the Broken Hill scenes from Priscilla: Queen of the Dessert, I actually had a really awesome time- turns out Wollongong is pretty much the same as Newcastle, except I'm not avoiding everyone there. So, anyway, being my usual needy, pushy self, I demanded Benjamin and Clare show me the sights, but as it turns out, that's easier said than done. Sights in that neck of the woods are few and far between, but there was, supposedly, something called the Kiama Blowhole worthy of a look, so I demanded we head off to investigate.

In much the same way a puppy, or small child, would have required constant stimulation, I suppose.

Anyway, on our way there, I spied something suitably phallic and distracting in the distance, and all of a sudden, I didn't care how intriguingly dirty this "blowhole" sounded- I'd found something more deserving of my meager attention span...THIS:

A REAL LIFE Buddhist Temple! So anyway, that's how my Buddhist Adventure started. And it was fantastic- I'd love to go back when I have more time, although I may need a disguise. A few lessons were learnt the hard way, and so, for you're blog-reading enjoyment, I present my list of lessons learnt in a Buddhist Temple. (Or, a few reasons why Michael shouldn't be allowed to roam free...)

Prepare to discover enlightenment. For which you're eternally welcome.

Firstly, just because the sign says "Incense of Offering" DOES NOT MEAN THEY'RE OFFERING IT TO YOU!!! I cannot stress this enough! You haven't experienced a glare until it's the glare of a monk when you've attempted to steal their sacred offerings. Personally, I think their sign should have been clearer.

Secondly, the fact that you see what LOOK like Swastikas everywhere does NOT mean they'll laugh at your satiric "Heil Hitler", complete with salute. Shit- WW2 was DECADES ago- are we still not laughing about that??

Thirdly, and possibly most disappointing of all,despite the fact that you're essentially standing in a giant dojo, muttering "MORTAL KOMBAT" and acting like the monks are about to engage in a fight to the death ISN'T smiled upon. In fact, as a bit of a rule, just stop assuming the monks know Kung Fu. It's less disappointing that way. It's not to say they COULDN'T have chosen to kick my ass with a roundhouse to the head, but signs generally pointed to the fact they weren't going to.

And finally, after the sixteenth statue in the bushes, reciting the "Don't Blink" speech from Doctor Who gets less amusing to your travelling companions. Even if you ARE just trying to save them from this...

Having said all that though, a day at the temple is a ridiculously entertaining experience, and honestly, if I could get back in there without threat of lynching, I'd totally do it again! I'd just, you know, require constant adult supervision or something...

(This may be why my mother kept me on a leash in Disneyland...)

Still not gossipping...

2010-06-14T22:33:00.002+10:00

Ok, so, despite rumours to the contrary, I'm actually not dead. I'm alive, kicking, and STILL not one to gossip. But, having said that, I have LOTS to complain about. And what better reason to start blogging again.

Actually, it's funny how much things can change in just a few months- I feel like my life is at such a different point than it was when I was regularly updating this thing, which is why I probably fell out of practice so dramatically, which is a shame, because a lot of cool shit went down. I think now, to jump back in, it's best to think that you missed an entire season of a television show you used to watch religiously. All the characters are pretty much the same, but a lot of storylines have occurred that you've got no idea about, and don't understand any of the references to. Which is ok- you'll pick it back up if you read spoilers online, and in the meantime, you can make up your own reasons for why all the settings have changed and why some characters have been recast inbetween episodes. That's what fanwankery was invented for! In the meantime though, just know that you missed MANY amazing stories, like surprise airport visits, shark feedings, ghosts and weddings. They made for fabulous episodes though. Just be distressed that you missed them. I am.

However, as a SMALL consolation for all of that, and as my way to say sorry for letting this place fall into such disrepair while we've all been off, looking at more exciting websites, I've given it a facelift which looks pretty sharp, and I offer this. You're welcome.

I for one can't WAIT for her inevitable guest spot on Glee...

A timely look at Avatar

2010-01-26T22:29:00.001+11:00

Ok, so fine. This comes, like, four months AFTER everyone else’s Avatar reviews, but so what. I’m nothing if not topical. My next post will be full of hilarious Sarah Palin references and my fears about Swine Flu. Deal with it.

I went and saw Avatar not long ago, after having it DRILLED into me that it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece since Steamboat Willy, so naturally, my expectations were cautiously high. James Cameron’s “Aliens” is still one of my favourite movies of all times, so we know he can make decent films, right? (You know, ASIDE from Titanic...)

Anyway. Naturally, I sprung the extra few dollars to wear the ridiculous 3D glasses, because I’m a whore for a good fad, and I’m glad I did, because, to be honest, the extra dimension was the films saving grace. Now, I HATE pissing on anybodies parade. Really I do. And I appreciate that people have loved the film. And honestly, I envy the people that did. Because I really wanted to. Nobody pays for a movie hoping for it to be shit- that’s just crazy. But I felt that Avatar was...well...boring. Pretty, but boring. Like an incredibly attractive person with no personality. You enjoy looking at them, but as soon as they start talking, you realise they have very little to say.

The film was basically 2 hours of climbing trees and watching neon lighting, followed by a fight scene at the end. Now, the final fight scene was, admittedly pretty cool, but I think people tend to forget that we had to sit through four hundred minutes worth of bullshit to get there! NOTHING happened, at any point in the movie, that you didn’t see coming at LEAST twenty minutes earlier. It was the theatrical equivalent of porn. Existing for the joy of watching it, but completely devoid of anything resembling substance.

I admit, I wanted to love Avatar. I really did. And I envy those people that did. I just couldn’t get past the fact that storywise, I’d seen it all before, and visually, yeah, it was great, but a film needs more than great visuals to survive. It would be like reading a shitty comic painted by Alex Ross, or playing a fucked up video game with amazing graphics. Half an experience. And I’m not prepared to rave about that.

Toss me the whip!!

2010-01-26T22:24:00.001+11:00

Holy frigging cow. How is this not the SINGLE greatest piece of licensed merchandise ever invented?? And more importantly, why don’t I own it yet?? How have I survived without a South American Fertility Goddess piggybank?? Don’t panic- I’ve already remedied this by ordering one online (Fully justified expense, thank you very much. I’m trying to save money. This is a moneybox. WHAT do you save money in? Yeah, that’s right. Money box. Justified, bitches) I do worry slightly that once it arrives, I’m just going to spend all my time reenacting the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but honestly, can you think of a BETTER way to spend my spare time? I didn’t think so.

Did I Miss Christmas?

2010-01-11T09:22:00.001+11:00

Holy hell! Look at the time! My half-assed mission to watch four hundred and seventy Christmas specials obviously didn’t agree with me- it derailed my ENTIRE blog! Lesson learnt- Christmas Specials suck. Which is weird, because Christmas MOVIES are so awesome. Never mind, let us never speak of this again. So, what’s happened since we last spoke? Well, there’s been a new year, a new job, and a new Doctor Who, for starters.

Looking at the three of them, the new year seems pretty similar to the old one, except it sounds weird to say “2010”. Sounds like I’m describing somebodies vision. New Years Eve saw it in with a lacklustre fizzle, instead of the kickass bang we were expecting, thanks to a kinda dodgy dance party that failed to reach the dizzying heights it promised, but, you know, now we can spend the year waiting for it to get better! And then facing crushing disappointment when it doesn’t! We all win!

The new job is pretty cool. I no longer sell books for a living! I was really sad about it at first, because I DID love the bookshop, despite everything, but now, I’m excited about working for the bank. Which bank? I’m not sure I’m allowed to say it’s the Commonwealth. In case I bitch about it (which knowing me, I will). I just reached a point where I felt, I was 25 years old, and in desperate need of a proper job. And retail isn’t one. Lacking a University Education (and being too lazy to get one) left me with few options, but then I found this job, and not only does it pay SO much more than Borders, it’s fun! Of course, check back in with me in a few months- that fun factor could be severely diminished.

And the New Doctor? Seems pretty cool. I cried in David Tennants last episode, but I wont hold that against the new guy. And he seems pretty. Not “Tennant-Pretty”, but still, he has a cute about him that I shouldn’t dismiss.

I feel like I’ve got so much to share, but I think this is enough new information for one post- stay tuned and I’ll tell you the rest soon!

I love you all!

#8: Golden Girls- Twas the Nightmare Before Christmas

2009-12-13T16:27:00.001+11:00

Don't let the name of this Christmas special fool you- this is NOT about Dorothy, Sophia and the other two stumbling on Halloween town and doing their own take on Nightmare Before Christmas, with Blanche screwing Jack and Sophia beating Oogie at a game of dice. I apologise now for your disappointment- don't worry, I felt the same way. In fact, if ever there was a fan-fiction begging to be written, it's that one. (And if I see it hit the web at any point in the next few days, I'm going to sue)

In actuality, this episode is, as far as I can tell, the first Christmas for the Golden Girls (not ever, of course. The whole PREMISE of the show is that they have a combined age of about four thousand, so I'm guess they've celebrated Chrsitmas once or twice before this), and they're all planning to go home to their seperate families for the holidays. Now, this story had so much crammed in to a twenty miniute episode, I'm suprised they didn't just call it "Tardis", but what we have is: Blanche fucks a Santa, Sophia maxes our Dorothys credit cards buying gifts, Rose still believes in Santa, some guy dressed as St Nick pulls a gun on the ladies demanding they hang with him at Christmas, all the planes are grounded, they get dinner at a diner and also, let some guy go home so he can spend the night with his family, instead of waiting on them all night at this stupid cheesy restaurant.

The lesson here? Don't attempt the holidays unmedicated, I think. After this much excitement, anyone would have been driven to drink! Also, should that guy have just left four old ladies in charge of his business? Am I the only one that thinks that was slightly irresponsible? I mean, he doesn't know them from Adam, and here they are, just up and offering to run the joint. And he accepts! If he's an employee, I hope he gets his ass fired. Enjoy spending ALL your time with your family now, bitch! And if he's the owner, it was even stupider. The women had already proved they couldn't handle a hostage situation, so if the place got held up, good luck keeping anything, douchebag. What a load of bollocks.

Oh well, I suppose my first mistake was expecting realism from the Golden Girls. The highlight of the episode was from Dorothy, when faced with one of Blanches usual whorebag stories, shouting "Blanche! I could get HERPES listening to this story!!" I think that may make it into MY repertoire. Merry Christmas!

#7: Frasier- Miracle on Third or Fourth Street

2009-12-09T22:42:00.002+11:00

Back to episodic adventures tonight, with the first ever Frasier Christmas Special, "Miracle on Third or Fourth Street". Yes, even the show that was so pretentious it gave pretentiousness a bad name managed to have a few Christmas miracles, and of all the specials, this one was definitely the first,

Plotwise, it had Marty being, you know, normal, and Frasier being a prick about it, and them having a fight. So pretty much EVERY episode of Frasier, except this time, it was at Christmas, and it was over some Christmas lights, which DESPITE Frasiers protestations, I thought were tacky as all fuck. Chilli shaped lights for the tree? Nope. Not buying it. That shit's ugly. And not even in a "so tacky it's awesome" kind of way. Just the regular tacky. So, to be spiteful, and because he's not going to see his son for the holiday (they explain why, but I was making popcorn at the time. It had something to do with the Sound of Music, so I'm guessing there was a touching coming-out story in there as well) Frasier decides to take the Xmas shift at the radio station, and spends his entire day being miserable, listening to even MORE miserable people whine about their problems. Just an aside for a second: You're a fucking radio psychiatrist, Dr Crane- HARDEN THE FUCK UP! Listening to sad losers is your damn job! You don't get to act pissy about it, just because you're in a bad mood! It would be like me cracking the shits because people kept buying books off me! Fool. Anyway, on the way home, Frasier decides to chill with a bunch of homeless guys, and have dinner, because, to his surprise, all the good restaurants are closed on Christmas. So far, Frasier hasn't done much to convince me he's as smart as he keeps saying he is, to be honest. It's Christmas, Einstein. What did you THINK was going to be open. Isn't it still kind of a big deal that some McDonalds will serve you on the 25th??

Long story short, it turns out he's forgotten his wallet, and looks like a bum, so everyone assumes he's dirt poor, and offers to buy his dinner for him, despite the fact they've got less money than Britney Spears singing teacher does, which Frasier, whilst touched, accepts. Now, this is where I tend to get annoyed at sitcoms. Because he acts as though the kindness of strangers is some kind of massive Christmas miracle, but really, if he'd opened his fat mouth and offered a plausible explanation for what was going on, the poor homeless peeps wouldn't have HAD to pay for the rich wankers food at all. But no. He tricks them all into buying him dinner. For shame.

So I think the message here is, despite their good intentions, homeless people are morons, and the holiday season is an excellent time to take advantage of their kindly nature and exploit the holy fuck out of them. It's what Frasier would do, and he's a pretty damn classy guy. Merry Christmas.

#6: T'was the Rant before Christmas...

2009-12-07T23:30:00.003+11:00

Because, you know, all this Christmas Positivity is getting me down. So on Sunday, instead of watching somebody ELSE moan about Christmas, I figure I'll do some whining of my own. Because if these things have taught me anything, it's that Christmas is about complaining about things until someone takes pity on you.

And you know what I've realised really, REALLY pisses me off? Goddamn "Australian" Santas. You know the ones I mean. Stupid cartoons of Santa, wearing a singlet and shorts, chilling on the beach. He's not above wearing an akubra. . Occassionally, if he's feeling exceptionally crass, his sleigh will be pulled by kangaroos.

Just look at the smug fucker! Is our national identity SO flimsy that we have to plagerise a beloved cultural icon and bastardise him to within an inch of his life, just so that he can fit within the confines of a tired Australian cliche that's been beaten to death? Why, when we're already taking the leap of logic that says this fat bastard can make it around the entire world in a single night, do we feel the need to start bringing sense into all of it, and raise issues like the heat? Santa is travelling at Warp Seven around the globe, breaking ALL laws of time and space squeezing his fat ass down chimneys that don't exist, and we're meant to believe he can't cope with Australian heat? The sleigh doesn't have air conditioning? Most importantly, we're dealing with FUCKING MAGIC! At what point did someone think "Oh no! Santa's going to get heatstroke!" and bypass the hundreds of other logic leaps we were already accepting at face value?

And don't even get me started on that fruity looking elf. He's going to be devestated when he realises Santa came too early to drop him off at Mardi Gras. And if the ridiculous concept of a Santa dressing for the weather wasn't enough, we feel the need to butcher one of the staples of the whole damn mythology, MUTANT REINDEER, and importing flying kangaroos into the fray! Why? Now, I'll be the first to admit I've never understood where Santa's army of reindeer came from, but I've always kind of accepted they belong. Why then, do some dickheads feel that it's more acceptable to have him being whisked through the night sky by white kangaroos? Fuck you, Rolf Harris. This is all your fault. You and that stupid song. I feel it's a sad state of affairs when a country has such an insecure sense of self that they feel the need to shoehorn existing pop culture icons into an extremely narrow box, and truth be told, it's borderline offensive. Now patriotism is great and all, but is there really a need to be a total wanker about it? Should DC start drawing Superman in thongs when he's staging a rescue down under? Should Mickey Mouse be seen cooking a barbeque and downing a beer? Or can we, as a nation, create our OWN icons, and leave the others the fuck alone?

On a completely hypocritical note though, how fucking awesome is Mexican Santa? Because I think a Santa in a sombrero is something we could ALL get behind.

#5: The Nightmare Before Christmas

2009-12-07T22:25:00.004+11:00

Being the weekend, I wanted to do something a little more exciting for this game, and so I decided that on weekends, instead of watching episodic christmas adventures, I'd reward myself with a sugary blast of Hollywood flavoured Christmas Awesome, and start slowly devouring the pile of Holiday Movies that are an annual tradition with me.

And where better to begin than The Nightmare Before Christmas? I'm not going to bother recapping the plot, because in the year 2009, certain things are taken for granted, and one of those is the fact that at some stage in your life, you've watched this gem of a film, about a bunch of weirdos that live in Halloween Town and decide a hostile takeover of Christmas Town is in order. And there's singing. There's not really a great deal to make fun of with this movie- the plot is fairly straightforward, and it manages to do all of it without wasting unnecessary time on trivialities like the meaning of Christmas or goodwill amongst all mankind. Nope- Christmas in this universe is fairly straightforward. It involves Santa making presents and distributing them. Thats all there is to it. Which sounds like a nice, simple concept to me. There's one part where Jack Skellington tries to explain the idea of Christmas to the Halloween monsters, but he seems even more clueless than I am, and you can tell that if he had hair he'd be pulling it out by the end of it, because they all seem pretty fixated on the ideas of mutilated feet and infectious diseases. No one said the people of Halloween Town were thinkers, after all.

Also, the Santa in this version? You can totally tell he kicks all sorts of ass. See the way he brutally murders that bug at the end? Then threatens to kick Jacks ass clear off if he ever fucks with Christmas again? You just know he could have escaped at the beginning, he just wanted to see how badly everyone cocked things up without him. Probably so he'd look even MORE heroic when he fixed everything. Santas a man with a plan. And that plan involves looking suave while saving the day. And teaching scrawny skeleton monsters valuable lessons about staying the fuck on their own turf.

And isn't that what Christmas is ALL about??

Merry Christmas!

#4: Futurama- "Xmas Story"

2009-12-05T18:05:00.003+11:00

Futurama is pretty much my favourite series of all time. So it comes as NO surprise that it's also responsible for pretty much my favourite Christmas episode of all time as well. Two of them, actually, but we'll play the game chronologically and watch only one today- the first one, funnily enough: Xmas Story.

It's Frys first Christmas since coming to the future, and we learn that it's now referred to as Xmas, which will prove convenient whilst typing. Also, Xmas Trees are Palm Trees, instead of Pine, which personally, I think is a huge improvement which could result in me decorating an obscenely flashy palm tree this year in tribute. I'm not sure yet. (On a related note, I really must get around to decorting the house) So anyway, Fry moans about being lonely, and Leela moans more about being even MORE alone (is it my imagination, or do ALL these Christmas specials seem to revolve around people moaning about something? Maybe THATS the true meaning of Christmas?) so Fry decides Leelas moaning trumps HIS moaning, and he should man the hell up and do something about it. Also, Bender seems keen for free alcohol. And looting old ladies. Which we can ALL get behind, regardless of the time of year. Anyhow, Fry buys Leela a parrot (and to anyone watching at home- please never buy me a parrot.) which promptly takes off, leading to Fry endangering his life trying to get the stupid bird back, which means Leela needs to rescue him.

Far from that wrapping everything up nicely, Santa then shows up to kill everyone. Except Dr Zoidberg. But the Planet Express crew manage to fight him off, and the episode ends with everyone feeling pretty good about themselves and Santa vowing to kill them all next year.

So what did we learn? Ummmmm.

500 stink lizards are better than one parrot?

Old ladies are good for mugging?

Santa is planning to stick coal so far up your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds?

I think the best lesson we could have possibly picked up from this episode of Futurama is if you want people to pay attention to you at Xmas, you just have to make sure you're complaining louder than everyone else. Also, Santa is a bastard, and if you hear "Ho Ho Ho" at any stage, you're pretty much already dead.

Merry Christmas!!!!

#3: 30 Rock- Ludachristmas

2009-12-03T23:08:00.002+11:00

If anyone can reach into my cold, loveless heart and teach me the true meaning of the Christmas Season, it's Liz Leman and the 30 Rock kids, right? Well, this was the reasoning that led me to watch the episode from Season 2- Ludachristmas. So after a little research on Urban Dictionary, I discovered that "Ludachristmas" is a day before christmas where you get crunk and rock out. Bless you, Tina Fey. I knew you wouldn't let me down.

Anyway, this episode is about the TGS team planning what seems to be a fantastic Christmas party, until Kenneth locks them all up, denies them any alcohol, and forces them listen to Rev. Garry bitch about jesus. Or something. And Liz's parents are in town for the holidays, but their story was a little less exciting, so I'll stick to the party vibe. My ears pricked up when Kenneth started harping on about the "true meaning of Christmas"- surely I was about to get some dollop of seasonal goodness that would make things clearer?

Yeah, not so much as you might think. He bitched a little about how no one wanted their shitty corporate gifts when some kids somewhere want wood, then Tracy decides the Christmas Tree is evil. As incomprehensible as that sounds, I did manage to gleam two VERY important Christmas messages from it all, which I think are further clues in the Dan Brown-esque mystery I'm on the verge of solving. (And watch- I promise to be more exciting and less pompous than Robert Langdon, too.)

1: In the words of Frank- Who cares about the true meaning of Christmas? It's about getting crap, and eating too much! It's about getting drunk, and hugging your cousin until your mom says "Frank, enough"!

Now that sounds like a Christmas message I could get behind. You know, without the incest. Also, this episode taught me that christians ruin christmas for EVERYONE. But I think we all already knew that. They get so damn smug about the fact they "own" the damn season. You know what, christians? Santa didn't fight for your freedom so that you could piss and moan about some damn manger.
Merry Christmas!

#2: American Dad- The Best Christmas Story Never Told

2009-12-02T22:42:00.002+11:00

Todays episode was definitely both infinitely more entertaining AND christmassy than yesterdays episode of Will and Grace. Propably not surprising, considering I still think American Dad is friggin HILARIOUS, and it managed to teach me even more about what it means to celebrate Christmas.

So the episode starts with the towns Christmas Celebrations being cancelled due to them being held on public grounds, so they can't hold a religious ceremony there or something. This pisses off Stan immensely, and he deals with his frustration by smashing presents and destroying the tree. And cancelling christmas. I think. Then Lisa Kudrow shows up as the ex-Tooth Fairy/ current Christmas-Fairy to take Stan back in time and remind him of how much he loved the season as a boy. Which causes him to decide to kill Jane Fonda in the past, because it's all her fault that the Liberal Movement has destroyed everything he loves about America.

Interesting if slightly incomprehensible plot, it did give me a few vauluable lessons:

1: Silent Night, Holy Savings

2: To make someone truly happy at Christmas, you should give them a gun.

3: Maybe you should have just married Chad.

All valuable lessons. So, I guess what American Dad is telling us is, to make the most of things, marry Chad, buy him a pistol, and make sure you get a good price for it. Because THATS what Christmas is all about.

Merry Christmas.

#1: Will & Grace- "Jingle Balls"

2009-12-02T22:01:00.003+11:00

Lets kick off our Christmas Adventure with that seasonal staple: Will & Grace. The 11th episode of the Fourth season seems as good a place as any to begin, with an episode called "Jingle Balls". You see what they did there? They used a popular christmas carol, "Jingle BELLS" and changed one letter, so that it says "BALLS". As in testicles. Oh, the hilarity. What WILL they think of next?

This one didn't really have much of a Christmas feel to it- Will was ashamed of his dancer boyfriend or some rubbish, which could have happened at any time of the year beyond a quick "Nutcracker" reference, but the Holiday portion of the episode came when Jack cockblocked Graces attempt to dersign the Barneys Christmas Window. Because he's a dick like that.

Anyway, after nominating himself, and casting Karen as a naughty, leather-clad Mrs Claus in some nightmarish dominatrix creation, thouroughly pissing off Parker Posey, causing her to threaten to fire him, Jack prays to Santa to fix the entire clusterfuck up, which goes about as well as you'd expect it to. It's not until Karen bribes Grace that she decides to bail him out, and does ALL the work herself, and allows Jack not only the credit, but to go on believing that Santa Claus designed the window display. The stupidity on offer in this episode makes my brain hurt, but Karen Walker, in her usual fabulous fashion, tries to explain the meaning of Christmas to Grace thusly:

"It's Christmas, for goodness sake! Think about the baby Jesus... up in that tower, letting his hair down... so that the Three Wise Men can climb up and spin the dreidel and see if there's six more weeks of winter."

To be honest, the only Christmas message I gained from this episode was that, in life, there are NO consequences for severely fucking your friends over, so long as there's a rich alcoholic to pay them to forget it and do your work for you!!!

So I consider this adventure a success so far! Merry Christmas!

December Dilemma

2009-12-02T21:57:00.002+11:00

It has come to my attention, being the Christmas season and all, that the true meaning of Christmas has been lost to us all. And that's depressing. But instead of sitting around, moaning about things like everyone else, whilst overdosing on the rampant consumerism that plagues the holidays most year whilst further sliding ever-downwards on a spiral of anti-christmas depression, I decided to do something constructive. And that is, rediscover EXACTLY what the TRUE meaning of Christmas is, as explained through that age old medium of the CHRISTMAS TELEVISION SPECIAL.

Yes, one for every day between now and Christmas, I intend to watch as many Christmas themed movies and TV episodes that I can find, because surely, if anything can teach me the true meaning of Xmas, Hollywood can. So feel free to sit back and enjoy: consider it my lovingly crafted Christmas Gift to you all. Because we could ALL do with a reminder of what December 25th is about.

Tis the Season. To be drunk.

2009-12-01T23:56:00.003+11:00

Not that I normally need an excuse to drink too much, but it is always nice when December roles around and you have a legitimate reason to consume more alcohol than is generally encouraged whilst surrounded by people simultaneously wishing you an awkward Merry Christmas and trying to coax you into surrendering the karaoke microphone. As far as I'm concerned, it's what Christmas is all about. And, in keeping with the precedents set by previous years, I've already attended the Work Christmas Party and managed to make a complete tit of myself (although people assure me I was "entertaining". Sadly, I have to take their words for it. My memories of the evening clearly bear little to no resemblance to the actual events)

If it taught me anything though, it was that I should steer well clear of public speaking. Ever.

But it's always nice to see workmates in a slightly more relaxed environment- especially leading into Christmas, it's good for everyone to kind of unwind before the world goes completely batshit insane. I was talking to someone about it the other day, and mentioned that it feels like we're preparing ourselves for war, and those of us that have been working there for a couple of years are the grizzled, hardened veterans, looking at all the fresh-faced, excited youngsters that are about to have their faith in humanity shattered by a Retail Christmas (something that honestly needs to be experienced to be believed- no amount of me telling you about it will convince you of what it's really like...) as well all prepare to charge the enemy together or something. One thing the general public should be aware of this year though, is the fact that I've been playing kind of a lot of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 or whatever it's called (you know the one. You've probably just taken a break from playing it yourself) and feel my usual method of "passive resistance" has been replaced by a more effective method of "Shoot first, questions later". I may be the only employee wearing both a Santa Hat AND Guerilla-style camouflage face paint, but I like to feel that duality adds to my charm. The fact that the face paint will most likely be pink is completely irrelevant. It's still threatening.

I think when you equate your place of employment with a demilitarized zone, it's probably time to start looking elsewhere. Lets see if I can be out of there before next christmas...

Oh look- another Twilight rant!

2009-11-29T05:27:00.004+11:00

I know I've ranted about Twilight before on here, and you know what? In all likelihood, I'll probably do it again some time. But lately, I've started noticing a bizarre and confusing trend, so, as per usual, I decided to rant about it. Yes, we all know Twilight fans are painful and annoying. Believe me, working in a bookstore, you tend to see more of this than most people in day to day life. But recently, there has been a major emergence of a group of people more annoying than Team Edward and Team Jacob combined. And that's Team "I hate Twilight so much I want to show everyone how clever and sophisticated I am by telling everyone just HOW much I hate it". And they're everywhere.

It's weird. Several months ago, there was nothing that made me want to stab my own eyes out quite as bad as rabid Twi-Hards, but now, I find them amusingly innocent. Simple, sure. Victims of some sort of intense, vampire-centric, mormon-based brainwashing nonsense? Of course. But harmless, in a way that reminds me of Down Syndrome kids. Sure, they're disabled, but they're happy and they don't hurt anyone, so what's the big deal. But the Anti-Twilight league? Jesus! Those guys are ridiculous. It's like they're gaining some sort of sick pleasure from pissing on everyones parade, with a level of vehemence that makes me think Stephanie Meyer snuck into their house, raped their Grandma, and shot their dog.

Look. I'm sure, as sensible people, we can mostly agree that the Twilight series isn't the most amazing piece of literature ever experienced. And I know we can all pretty much accept that Ms Meyer doesn't have even the most basic understanding of what a vampire is or does. And the Bella/Edward relationship is one of the most unhealthy, abusive pairings in history. And I could rant about these things myself. God knows they piss me off enough. But at the end of the day, what does that negativity achieve? Twilight sucks. Sure. But who cares? There's no need to grab our torches and pitchforks and make even bigger jerks of ourselves than the morons that wear shirts that say "Bite me, Edward".

Because you can't fight fanaticism with fanaticism. Well, you can. You just end up looking like an idiot.

They've still got it!

2009-11-29T05:13:00.003+11:00

You know, anyone that questions the Muppets validity in this day and age really needs to watch this clip. I don't know what it's for, I don't know when it's from (recently though, I assume) but in just 4:46, it manages to be one of the most entertaining new Muppet productions I've seen in years. Clearly someone at Disney is paying attention to Muppet fans, cos this hits all the right notes. Literally AND figuratively.

Hopefully this is some sort of viral marketing to build interest in this new film we keep hearing about.

Allons-y

2009-11-24T09:52:00.002+11:00

It's no secret that you only have to MENTION the name David Tenant to me and I go into all manner of time-travel based, swoon-heavy, Tardis-central fantasies that would put both Rose Tyler AND Martha Jones to shame. I'm happy to admit that. (And also worried to realise that's not my strangest celebrity crush by a long shot. Don't ask) So naturally, I tend to get pretty excited whenever a new Doctor Who special pops us, an event of excruciating scarcity this past year, which is only now rectifying itself. We had The Waters of Mars the other day, which I enjoyed immensely, and we've got two more to look forward to before David Tenant shuffles off and Matt Smith (Also swoon-worthy, I think, but it's still a bit hard to tell, to be honest) steps in to the role. Now, so long as I ignore the fact that I'm going to be left a heartbroken shell of an individual with the inevitably devestating death of the Tenth Doctor, I can still muster a bit of excitement, and this preview clip from the 2009 Children in Need special only helped build that anticipation. Sure, it tells us NOTHING new about The End of Time, but who cares. It's got the Doctor, acting all Tenanty and gorgeous. And honestly, what more can anyone want?

Time Travelers Wife

2009-11-13T10:43:00.003+11:00

Ben, Mum and I went and saw the Time Travelers Wife adaptation the other day, which, I have to admit, I was slightly worried about. I mean, it was one of those absolutely perfect novels, and there was every possibility a film version would not only suck, but suck terribly, so I was hesitant, especially when ALL the reviews I saw were unanimously negative. Didn't bode well.

I'm glad to say, I adored the film. Immensely. Naturally, parts were corny, and it missed plot points from the book that I wished it had included, but I've never been one of those people that can't handle adaptations. You KNOW going in stuff is going to be excised, and there's a larger than average chance it wont be as great as the source material. Once you can deal with that minor fact, you're usually ok. Or at least I am. But I'm not going to gush about the whole thing for an entire post- (Movie was great, go see it is all you're getting in way of review really)

What I want to ask is, and this contains MAJOR SPOILERS, but if you're read the book, you already know it and you're safe to read on:::

How the FUCK do they explain Henrys death to the authorities? In the middle of a crowded party, where he's stupidly gathered ALL his friends around him, his body is discovered with a bullet wound. You don't think when they make the 911 call, questions will be asked about, oh, I don't know... WHO FUCKING SHOT HIM?? Surely, if Henry were smart, he would have sent everyone, Claire included, the fuck away, so that none of them could be implicated in his murder? Was this explained in the book? Am I forgetting a perfectly simple explanation that was offered somewhere? It just really shook me out of the story, the fact that in all probability, Claire is going to be subject to a long, invasive criminal investigation into her husbands killing. Which would have made a decidedly different ending to the story, I suppose.

God damn time travel.

Further Halloween awesomeness

2009-11-03T11:44:00.002+11:00

You know, if my last rant didn't convince you Halloween was the greatest thing on the history of the planet, this will. Because without Halloween, we'd have never been blessed enough to see this, which is, quite simply, the most perfect piece of live television you will EVER have the joy of seeing. Let me just say this: Drunken, horny, moonwalking ewoks. And television hosts that genuinely have NO IDEA how to deal with it!

Your life will be changed. You'll thank me for it. You'll never see anything this great again. When I grow up, I want to be a drunken midget on the Today Show.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Halloween Success.

2009-11-03T09:31:00.003+11:00

After weeks of stressing out, anticipating melodrama, and generally working myself up into a state over it, I can happily say that Halloween passed without too much going wrong at all. In fact, I had a lot of fun (and alcohol). You know, I think Halloween is a greatly under appreciated holiday in this country, mostly because of the stubborn dick heads that like to sit there and moan about the infiltration of American culture into our society, which, frankly, is bullshit.

If you're looking to avoid American Cultural Invasion, I think you maybe missed your chance during, oh, I don't know, the last fifty years when it was actually happening? It's such a ridiculous notion, bitching about a festival because it's big in another country, especially when that country is responsible for ninety percent of the pop culture we enjoy on a daily basis (Also, explain to me how it isn't rascist?). And it's crazy how outrageously defensive some people seem to get about it, as well. Try wishing a stranger "Happy Halloween" and seeing the reaction you get. People tend to look at you like you've just wished them "Happy 'I support pedophilia' Day" (which is nonsense- we all KNOW that's in June!)

The fact of it is, Halloween is a fun holiday. It's just an excuse to drink, party and be stupid. It doesn't have the religious connotations the other holidays tend to carry, so it comes without the toxic guilt we're all forced to deal with by smug christians that feel they get to monopolise Christmas and Easter, and you can dress as ridiculous as you like for one day a year. Honestly, what other day can you get away with wearing the trampiest outfit on the face of the planet, and get applauded for it? This year, I hung out painted green, for blergs sake. Green! It was rad!

Now, I admit, trick or treating still takes some getting used to, but that's only because it's such a foreign concept, having to sling junkfood at the neighbours kids while they're dressed like some sort of creature from hell, but I think we can get used to it. Because yeah. It's awkward at the moment. But they're enjoying themselves. We're enjoying ourselves. Everyones having a blast. I proudly support Halloween. And think that everyone that doesn't is an absolute tool. Seriously, the only reason you should have ANYTHING against Halloween is if you're a member of the Myers family and you've decided to spend the night holidaying in Haddonfield, Illinois. Because then, you're pretty much fucked. Everyone else, chuck on a costume, drink too much, and pass out in a pool of your own candy coloured vomit. Make me proud.

And to show you how awesome Halloween can be, I present to you...

ELPHA-BOY. Yes, that's right. The cleverest pun all Halloween. Also, some random attractive homosexual that ended up smeared with green paint. Halloween is FULL of win! ;-)

Halloween Party- Let the panicking commence

2009-10-31T14:13:00.003+11:00

For some unknown reason, it was decided that we would throw a Halloween Party this year. I'm still not entirely sure why. I hate hosting parties. It's so much effort, and it always involves stress and mayhem, and excessive consumption of alcohol, which leaves me with no memory of the event at all, essentially making all of the previous work redundant. Maybe this time will be different. But probably not. We're preparing the house for it as we speak, and because there are certain values my father managed to instill in me from birth, no task can be tackled until a list is formulated, ensuring the day runs completely smoothly. (It's true. Even to this day, I can't do anything without planning it down to the finest detail. Stupid lists)

So, this is on the agenda for today.

Kitchen
Lounge Room
Dining Room
Bathroom
Outside
Floor
Lunch
Finalise costumes (fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck)
Decorate House
Go shopping for last minute things (possibly more decorations) and pumpkins
Carve Pumpkins x3
Buy fake carved pumpkins
Drink heavily whilst cleaning up stupid pumpkins.
Swear lots.
Start getting ready
Prepare food
Welcome guests
Hide in bathroom and cry at lack of guests
Hope for guests to arrive
No guests. Kill self.
Get stupid green paint off everything (my costume involves painting myself green)
Never throw party again.

Oh dear. Wish me luck. And come to my funeral.

Australian Tragic? Tragic Australian, more like.

2009-10-30T08:45:00.002+11:00

You know, as a cool, calm, rational individual, it's not often I find myself flying off into a rant of epic proportions. But occasionally, it DOES happen. Like now. So brace yourself.

We got the above book in at work a few weeks ago. Australian Tragic by Jack Marx. And NEVER. In my ENTIRE LIFE. Have I been so damn enraged by the existence of a book.

I mean honestly, what kind of socially inept monster feels the need to read a book thats sole reason to exist is to capitalise on the grief and misery of others? It's obscene. Basically, it's a book of short stories. Snapshots of otherpeoples misfortune, so that readers can feel smug and good about themselves that it didn't happen to them. It's utterly appalling. And to add to the offensiveness of the whole thing, Jack Marx (douchebag extreme) tries to pass his ghoulish little tales off as literature by spewing out overdramatic literary references for the masses to ooh and aah over, whilst they eat crisps and gawk at misery.

This book is the worst kind of capitalisation. It's someone, completely removed from the horrific events in question, making money from a safe distance by splashing peoples lives across the page so that other freaks, equally removed from said event, can feel good about themselves. I hate it SO MUCH. One chapter is about the woman who lost her children in the fire at Luna Park. Yes, thats right. Her children burnt to death in an amusement park. In what way, shape or form does that need to be written about? Especially by some jerk trying to turn it into a cheap thrill, sensationalised beyond all recognition and plastered about for the world to see. It makes me so angry. Grief is an incredibly personal thing. Especially grief of that magnitude. If it was a book written by the survivors of these tragedies, it would be a completely different matter, because therein lies at least SOME merit. It becomes a tale of human triumph, of success over crippling adversity, but in this context? No. Success isn't the goal. The goal is to repulse, just slightly. It's a regurgitated horror story for people that want to think "Thank god that wasn't me".

And you know what really pisses me off about this? As an author, you have the power to create something. Something powerful, something fanciful, even something that is complete and utter bollocks. Whatever. It's your power. You can use words to do anything. So why waste them on something as hideous and repulsive as this? This isn't creating anything. It's not even reporting on anything. It is the lowest form of writing. And to be making money off it? Jack Marx should be completely, utterly ashamed of himself. And so should everyone that buys this book.

It's repugnant.

*takes a deep breath*

MinnelliHunt 09. PART TWO

2009-10-27T08:33:00.003+11:00

SATURDAY

Despite the fact that we missed out on the oppurtunity to meet Liza on the Friday, which was logically, the most likely chance we had, I refused to be dissuaded from my goal. Especially when, as we were having breakfast delivered (Fuck I love room service. Honestly, I could see myself living in a hotel) we managed to learn a piece of VERY exciting information from the guy delivering it. Liza was staying in the same hotel we were. On the 30th floor. Now, the Intercontinental has 31 floors, but the top level is the function room/ club lounge, so essentially, Liza was staying in the nicest area. In a room that was occupied by George Bush during his last Australian visit, incidentally. Which basically translates to: Fucking hard to get into. I learnt this the hard way, because as soon as I learnt she was up there, I jumped in the lift and went for a ride, only to discover a batallion of burly, armed security guards milling about on her floor. So I sheepishly muttered "wrong floor" and went back down to the 21st floor. Honestly, where do they get off, giving me an obvious "You can't afford to stay on THIS floor!" look? They don't know! (The fact that they were correct is of absolutely NO importance)

So, a new plan was needed. First, we got to cram a day full of fun in Sydney into the agenda, where I got to catch up with Samantha and Dave, see Daniel, go to the comic store, and annoy Benjamin endlessly. (Tell me again why I was single for so long??)

On a whim, as we walked past the theatre, we decided to see if tickets were available for that nights performance of Avenue Q, which they were, so we added that to our itinerary, and headed back to the hotel. A quick sojourn up to the 30th floor again revealed the place was STILL crawling with guards, so dinner with Liza was out of the question, and thus, Ben and I headed to Circular Quay for a wander. By this stage, we'd lost Matthew for the evening, who had gone for a date, and we were about to add Damien and Adam, who had come to Sydney to see Liza's Saturday performance. That's when we had the plan. I figured, despite the previous evenings failure, the stage door was still a fabulous option, and because I wasn't going to the concert, there was nothing stopping me getting their quite early to begin both wheeling AND dealing to secure a coveted spot meeting her.

Of course, the recently purchased Avenue Q tickets through a spanner in those works. We went to see the show (which was AMAZING, by the way- about 89% better than I expected an Australian Cast to be) which ended at 10.15. Which gave us 10 minutes to run from one end of Sydney to the other, in order to get to the Opera House. And it was raining. Heavily. Of course, never underestimate a homo with a mission, and so, I ran the length of Sydney, and managed to arrive JUST as Damien and Adam were leaving the Opera House. I was looking slightly less impressive than the previous night (I believe the term "drowned rat" may have been applicable) only to find myself STILL not allowed backstage. Although, given how I looked, they may have assumed I was a crazy homeless person, in which case I don't blame them.

I DID, however, manage to spark up a CHARMING conversation with Maria Venuti, the Australian television personality with the enormous rack, but I think she may have been slightly annoyed with the fact that I: a) Clearly had no interest in talking with anyone but Liza Minnelli and b) couldn't stop staring at her enormous tits. It was a shame I was so fixated on the goal, because under normal circumstances, she seemed like she would have been quite fun!

Anyway, people came and went through the stage door, and we were starting to thing tonight was going to end in failure as well, when the alarms started, the door raised, and the first car pulled out, in much the same fashion as the night before. Only this time, Liza was in the second vehicle. I know this, because it had clear windows, and I was in the front row, and we looked at each other! I mean ACTUAL Minnelli eye contact! And in that instant, that brief, fleeting moment, we shared something magical. Because not only did we make eye contact, we held it, and she pushed her hand against the car window, REACHING OUT FOR ME! It was a total Star Trek 2 moment, where she was Spock and I was Kirk, only she wasn't dying of radiation poisoning. In that moment though, we knew each other, and it was magical. And we were close, too. Like, a metre and a half. In essence, I came face to face with Liza Minnelli. It's only now that I'm mortified by the fact I looked like absolute shit, but at the time, it was amazing.

Figuring that I had just experience a high of EPIC proportions, the four of us went back to the room to drink and reminisce about that one time were Liza looked at me, and I further cemented the fact that I should not be left alone with alcohol in the same hotel as a celebrity. Because I'm an idiot. And apparantly, at 3 in the morning, her security guards have all gone to bed.

And that's where "Hey, let's go see if we can get near her door NOW!" becomes a good idea.

That little orange light under the door number says "privacy". I think I may be the reason she was...less than great... in Idol that night. But you know what? I'm ok with that. All in all, I'd say MinnelliHunt09 went well. And I'm already planning to head back to Sydney on the 2nd of November to try again at her Entertainment Centre concert. Wish me luck!

MinnelliHunt 09. PART ONE

2009-10-24T18:37:00.006+11:00

MinnelliHunt09 sounds SO much classier than "stalking a poor sixtythree year old lady around Sydney", don't you think? At least this way I'm less likely to end up a convicted felon, which is a plus. So, MinnelliHunt09.

FRIDAY

The hunt started last friday, when I headed to Sydney to see her live (Have I mentioned that at all yet? Because I honestly don't know if this blog has quite ENOUGH Liza on it...) Anyway, all signs leading in to this pointed towards Friday being my best chance to meet the great lady, what with me actually going to the Opera House, and having been chatty with Glenn from the Liza Fanclub, who had been communicating with Liza's people about getting fans of importance (read: me) backstage. So, so far so good. Made sure I was dressed up to the nines, because honestly, one doesn't present oneself before Hollywood Royalty without being properly attired. And can I just say, how damn good do I look in this picture? (Also, I MAY have overdosed on gay. You tell me...)

(Totally just a shameless excuse for posting that picture. We all know it)

Once I was glittered up like a good little queen, we headed off to the Opera House. First step was catching up with Glenn. Actually first step was getting photographed in front of the Harbour Bridge with Ben like a couple of queer tourists. Second step was finding Glenn. No, wait. Second step was buying a glass of wine. Third step... well, that was buying (actually, I use the term "buying" loosely, but that really IS a story best left unshared...) my merchandise. But fourth step? That was DEFINITELY meeting up with Glenn and some of his other friends- an eccentric group of Liza fans that were all as excited, if not more so, than I. One particularly memorably awesome character went by the name "Lady Cool" (I swear I'm not making this up! She's on facebook and everything!) She's a cabaret singer, and she was, like, utterly fabulous. Also, a super nice guy named Neil who kept raving about how young I was, which made him pretty much my favourite person ever. So, after some idle chatter and a quick photo, we all went in to watch the concert experience of a lifetime, but I've raved about that enough, and you've already read it, I assume (if not, you can forget your Christmas Card this year)

(In hindsight, I may have been slightly heavy-handed with the foundation...)

So, concert ends, and we all go hang around the stage door, desperately hoping to get backstage with all the cancer kiddies and D-list celebrities (Memo to self for next time: You're NOT above shaving your head and riding a wheelchair. ) that seem to have accquired the much needed passes that I was missing. I DID manage to sneak through the first security checkpoint by discreetly placing myself in the midst of an official looking group and just walking in with them, but not surprisingly, I was found out relatively quickly and ejected back outdoors (bastards).

Next thing we knew, the alarm sounded, the garage door raised, and two SUVs drove out. SUVs with HEAVILY blackened windows. Liza had been escorted from the building. Now, I can understand perfectly the fact that a 63 year old woman would be bloody exhausted, what with giving the concert performance of a lifetime, not to mention a full day of trying to make those Australian Idol kids sound halfway decent (She's a star, not a fucking Wizard) so I hold nothing against her for the fact that Day One of MinnelliHunt09 was a failure. And it wasn't that it was so much a failure as it was a buildup to the second day. Cos part 2 is where the crazy shit REALLY goes down...

Welcome aboard, Madame President

2009-10-22T11:12:00.002+11:00

Somehow, I managed to be elected President of the work social committee. Now it turns out I was more interested in the concept of being voted number one than the concept of actually running a group of people dedicated to organising events (superficial motivations? From ME? Who'd have guessed?) and now I have to deal with the consequences of my crushing popularity. (Fuck off, those of you that know I was only up against one person.)

It is slightly worrying that, upon being elected, my first thoughts were "How can I use this newfound power to my own advantage and personal gain?", but after a few seconds of flirting with megalomania, I decided that avenue was fruitless, and instead devoted my attention and energy to deciding which fictional president I should use as my character template. Forerunners so far include Laura Roslin from Battlestar Galactica (Although I may have to shave my head for that one) or Bill Pullman from Independence Day, just because I thought he was nifty. Chancellor Palpatine was a likely option for a bit, until I remembered I was trying to steer clear of flirting with the darkside, and Geena Davis from Commander in Chief was ok, but her show got cancelled, which I blame on her poor leadership skills.

I just have to avoid taking after Bill Clinton in any way shape or form. Not sure the bookstore could handle a sex scandal. Well, another one. Especially another one involving me. Although, that DOES explain how I got so many votes...

For those few unbelievers

2009-10-22T11:05:00.003+11:00

Here's footage I found from the concert I was at, PROVING how fucking AWESOME Liza Minnelli was. Keep in mind, she's 63. Think of your grandmother. Could your grandmother be as awesome as Liza Minnelli? Probably not. Therefore, Liza is more awesome than your grandma. And quite possible, you.

There's a reason I never think of Frank Sinatra when I hear this song, and this is that reason.

Let the good times roll

2009-10-21T20:22:00.002+11:00

So I'm sitting here, on the back verhanda with my room mate and my boyfriend. It's eight thirty at night, but the temperature is still pleasant enough for shorts and a shirt. I'm sipping away at a particularly pleasing white wine. I've spent the afternoon strolling the beach and building a sandcastle. There is a pizza cooking in the oven that we just created from scratch. And you know what? It makes me realise something. I fucking LOVE summer. I've never found myself being a summer person before, but this year, wether it's because I'm living so close to the beach, or just because I'm at the stage of my life where people BECOME Summer People, I'm looking forward to it with a level of anticipation generally reserved for my favourite divas newest albums.

I've always felt I connected much more with my Welsh side than my Australian side when it comes to weather, but right now, as I sit here getting pissed, scoffing pizza and wearing short shorts, I think I may be betraying my heritage for a much more relaxed state of mind.

So. How WAS she?

2009-10-20T11:17:00.002+11:00

After so much excitement and build up, is there any way a concert could live up to the hyped expectations that have developed in my overactive imagination? Normally, I'd have said no. Then I saw Liza Minnelli live at the Opera House, and learnt that homosexual dreams CAN come true. She was an absolute miracle. She had nothing in the way of sets, or props, or fancy staging, but still, she managed to captivate an entire audience for a full two hour show with nothing but her voice and her personality.

From the second she burst onto stage (and I burst into tears...for the first time) she was upbeat, lively and fantabulous, singing all the classics (Maybe This Time, Cabaret, Mammy) and some that I was desperately hoping she'd crack out, even though I wasn't expecting them (If, Liza with a Z, What Makes a Man)

The best part, though, was that despite being in the Opera House, it felt like such an intimate concert. She regaled the audience with stories, and anecdotes, and even just with jokes (Like when she started shifting uncomfortably, then stopped, looked out and declared "My knickers keep riding up!") that were, in many ways, even more entertaining than the songs. It was just unlike anything I've ever witnessed before in my life. I mean, I've seen some concerts in my day. Actually, I can honestly say that I've seen ALL my favourite artists live. Kylie Minogue. Bette Middler. Cher. All of them. But Liza was in a class of her own. The others are true showgirls. Fabulous, amazing showgirls. But Liza Minnelli is Hollywood Royalty. There is nobody on the planet like her. And to watch her live, to bask in her presence. It was unlike anything I've experienced before, or likely after. Her ability to command a room like that, to just captivate every single person in there, is unparalleled, and I'm privileged to have been a part of it.

But the absolute highlight of the night? Her final number, New York, New York. Holy Saint Liza, I think I had a religious experience watching it. She was SO powerful, she almost lifted the damn roof off the opera house. It was fabulous. I've seen concert footage from the height of her career in the 80s where she didn't perform that number with as much energy! And to top it off, she performed "All the Lives of Me" as an encore. I knew she'd have to sing a Peter Allen song, but I didn't realise it would be so amazingly emotional and raw. The fact that before she finished she cried out "Thank you, Peter" ensured there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Thank the gods I wore waterproof mascara, let me tell you...

L Day is Upon Us

2009-10-20T11:11:00.000+11:00

**this update was written several days ago...*

This is it. The day I’ve been waiting for for so many months now. L-Day. The 16th of October. The day a lifelong dream is realised, and I see the amazing Liza Minnelli in concert. It’s just 9 short hours now until the concert startts, and I’m writing this whilst driving to Sydney to see her. Well, I’m not LITERALLY driving. I’m a passenger. I’m not THAT talented. (Or crazy)

My hair is done, my bags are packed, and I’m blaring the album Liza at the Palace to get that cabaret spirit pumping away. Words can’t express this level of excitement. Opera House. Liza Minnelli. That should really say it all. Add in the fact that there is a better than average chance of me getting backstage to meet Liza May in person (Oh yeah, baby, let THAT sink in for a second), you can imagine the level of happy coarsing through me.

Even if I don’t manage to meet her, the very fact that I made it onto some sort of guest list? That’s priceless. Absolutely priceless. It helps, I think, that I’m fairly certain Liza and I would get along like a house on fire, but only time will tell. Cross fingers and shoot positive vibes out your eyeballs that all goes according to plan, so that in several hours time, I can post about my experience hobnobbing with the elite, yeah?

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, I’ve STILL been unable to find the tickets. Fortunately, Damien at the Opera House was very helpful this morning and assured me I wont need them. I’m not sure if I’m going to have to sleep with someone to get in, it wasn’t made entirely clear. But honestly, if given the option, what do YOU think I’d do??

What do you mean, I'm not the centre?

2009-10-14T13:09:00.002+11:00

Yes, I realise it's the height of arrogance, but I'm always left surprised when I discover television shows I don't watch anymore are still going, in kind of the same way that you're always taken aback when you find out someone you used to date continues to exist when you're not the sole reason for said existence anymore. (Deal with the fact there's a universe beyond me? Inconceivable!)

Like Heroes. Did anyone else realise this was still going? WHY is this still going? I don't think I've spoken to ANYONE still watching! The funny thing is, during the first season, I was completely obsessed. But wasn't everyone? It was, like, a major cultural phenomenon. It seemed like the next Lost. Except about superheroes. What could be more awesome than that. Most things, apparently. I mean, I know I lost all interest during that first season finale where, after 22 episodes of kickass buildup, we were cheated out of a decent Sylar smackdown and he turned into a sewer cockroach and ran away or something, and Peter sort of exploded a little bit maybe, and Hiro accidentally went back in time. I think. It was a few years ago, and I'm hazy on the details, but I DO remember it was a total train wreck. Hence, I stopped watching. Because it was shit. And by all reports, season two and onwards has continued the general standard of shitness. And now the cheerleader is a lesbian. Hmm.

Or Smallville! Every time someone mentions Smallville to me, I'm amazed at its longevity. What's keeping THAT around? It's certainly not quality. Actually, Smallville is a rant for another blog (HOW do you fuck up Supermans origin story? HOW????) ANd it's entering, like, a ninth season or something now. How the hell did THAT happen? I have no words for my level of amazement at that. Sigh. It's a shame Smallville sucks, too. Can you imagine how incredible a series set in the DC Universe COULD be, if they tried a little harder?

Smallville and Heroes seem to share something, actually, and it seems to be a mutual dislike for Super Heroes. Which is a bit odd FOR TELEVISION SHOWS ABOUT FUCKING SUPERHEROES. Gah. Yet there they are, continuing on in their little self loathing way, whilst shows that I ACTUALLY care about (Firefly, Pushing Daisies, Arrested Development, Veronica Mars, Futurama) vanish off the air? Certainly, this is a sign that there is no justice. Also, if the world DID revolve around me, we'd have much better television. And probably more porn, as well...

Buying a little Happy.

2009-10-13T13:12:00.004+11:00

You know what cheers me up a ridiculous amount? Buying shit online. Despite the fact I'm supposedly partaking in a money-spending embargo (New York is going to be fucking expensive, after all) sometimes, you just can't put a price on happiness. Sigh. I shouldn't be trusted alone on the internet. It all started off innocently enough, with a sensible purchase of a book that I've been looking for forever (How NOT to Write a Novel, thanks for asking. It's fabulous).

But that's where sensible flew out the window. Because, I mean, once the credit card's already out, you'd be CRAZY not to keep using it, right? It's just making more work for yourself. Well, that's my justification, and I'm sticking with it. Anyone that knows me, knows I have a MILD addiction to the Aussiebum website. And heck, it's been ages since I've been on there, so can anyone REALLY blame me for going a little nuts? Besides, it's not like underpants aren't a sensible investment! You wear them all the time, they SHOULD be nice! Shut up. Stop judging me.

More importantly, who wants to see my undies??

My pair of these have "PRIDE" printed across the ass. Because I thought that was appropriate. And cute.

There were several other pairs purchased, but it just dawned on me, you're probably not reading this blog to see the underpants I wear. So I'll stop with the "show and tell", and instead, stick to a more sedate "and tell". Trust me when I say, they're utterly, UTTERLY fantastic. If you're ever feeling even the SLIGHTEST bit down in the dumps, make an Aussiebum order and watch the misery fall off! It's like magic. Hot, sexy underpants magic. The best kind.

Quick update

2009-10-13T13:03:00.002+11:00

After writing that last entry, I just went on to iTunes to see if I could find the song from the end of the episode, "I Will Wait for You" by Connie Francis (well, according to Wikipedia, it is) to no avail. I DID, however, find two other versions of the song. One performed by Liza Minnelli, the other by Cher. So. I think that's a win. Obviously I bought them both. Because I can't be trusted left alone with iTunes. At all.

Male PMS? God help us all...

2009-10-13T12:45:00.003+11:00

I've been in a bit of a funk the last few days. An inexplicable funk, no less, and we all know that's the only thing worse than the explicable kind. You know that feeling where everything just feels flat? Motivation sits at zero, mood plummets lower every minute, and nothing you do can lift the ridiculously melodramatic fog that seems to have permeated its way into every single aspect of your existence? (It also has a habit of increasing one's sense of literary melancholy, from the look of that) Well, that's been me. I go to work, sulk about, come home, continue sulking, all the while getting crankier at myself for not snapping the hell out of it, at the same time dealing with the fact that at any second you could burst into tears. It's weird. I suppose it DOES offer hope that I can still feel emotion and mustn't be completely dead inside, but you know, there's a happy medium! The good news is, I've since snapped out of it and I'm back to my usual, ridiculous self. So THAT'S a plus.

Looking back on the incident, though, allow me to offer a word of advice. When faced with feelings like that, DON'T think to yourself "Hey, you know what might cheer me up? That Futurama episode about Frys dog." Because if you think that, and then follow through with it, you're an idiot. As we all already know that I AM an idiot, it comes as no surprise that this is exactly what I did.

Now, usually, the one thing guarenteed to snap me out of any downer is Futurama. Of course, this only applies if I follow the cardinal rule, which is AVOID JURASSIC BARK AT ALL COSTS. It's the only episode that I think I've seen less than five times. I just can't bring myself to sit through it, despite it being one of the best episodes of animated television I've ever seen. But no. Apparantly, when you're feeling at your lowest, that's when it's going to be a good time to watch it. *INSERT MASSIVE EYE ROLL*

Should it come as ANY surprise that I cried my eyes out? And I don't mean a little bit. Big, shameful, heaving sobs. The kind generally reserved for Beaches, or Steel Magnolias. And then heaped so much affection on my dog that he STILL isn't talking to me. Damn you, Futurama. Damn you to hell. That ending is the most heartbreaking thing I've seen in a damn long time. And I hate you for it. Side note- this episode LOST the emmy? Doubleyou. Tee. Eff. That blows me away. The episode of the Simpsons that beat it must have been amazing! Or maybe the emmy committee were as pissed as Futurama as I was.

Batman and Mikey. Spot the difference.

2009-10-10T22:19:00.002+11:00

You know, it's one of the first things people notice about me, is how much I resemble Batman. Not physically, of course (despite the fact I DO share a certain level of debonair handsomeness with the Dark Knight) but rather, in our general demeanor. We're both surly, stealthy detective types with a penchant for womanizing and lurking around dark alleys late at night, and we both have an array of gadgets that make our crime fighting AND day-to-day lives that little bit more exciting.

However, there are a few subtle differences. Firstly, Batman tends to have a thing for eight year old boys, which, you know... not cool (although the third Robin, Tim Drake, IS of legal age, and was, coincidentally, one of my first comic book crushes. Along with Superboy. THAT'S not a creepy tidbit to share at all...) but secondly, and the whole reason for that ENTIRE preamble, is the fact that Batman carries around with him the most awesome invention on the face of the planet: Ninja Smoke Pellets.

Actually, these are pretty much a staple in comics and movies, to the point where, the other day whilst dealing with boredom, I started to research their existence. Because who doesn't love the thought of throwing a smoke pellet to the ground and disappearing with a flash of light, leaving enemies (or annoying customers) confused, and potentially suffering an asthma attack? First thing I noticed- you can't buy them on ebay. And Yahoo Answers suggested they were completely fictional, an answer I was entirely unimpressed with. I mean, something that awesome HAS to exist. Nobody can imagine something that cool (Hoverboards from Back to the Future 2 notwithstanding) and not see it through. So, like anyone faced with a tricky situation, I turned to the two internet knowledge staples. Firstly, wikipedia, which had a little information, which can be found here, mainly confirming that they exist in some capacity, but not a great deal more than that. Then I stumbled across the treasure chest that is youtube. There, I've managed to watch a ridiculous number of amateur ninjas demonstrating how to create some sort of working Smoke Pellet, generally involving things like ping pong balls and sandpaper. I'm not ENTIRELY sure that's how Batman does it, but hey. We aren't ALL fighting crime with the complete resources of Wayne Enterprises at our disposal, so suck it up.

Thus, I've decided my transformation into costumed vigilante, crime fighting marvel will be complete when I pimp out my utility belt with a few of these beauties. I can't BEGIN to gush about the real world applications I forsee for these things! I'll never have to waste my time ending a sentence again! Difficult customer? No problem- flash bomb on the floor, next thing you know, I've vanished, lurking behind a gargoyle or something. (Mental note: Have gargoyles installed at work. Also, start carrying grappling hook) I don't know why more people don't use these. Can't you just imagine me, disappearing in a *poof*

Alternatively, I could blow my foot off, but you know, that's a risk I think I'm willing to take. I'll let you know how this goes. I'm forseeing well.

I sense a great disturbance in the force...

2009-10-08T11:33:00.002+11:00

Even though I'm not sure why it's happened, there's no denying that Zombies are very in right now. Like, ridiculously so. I'm not sure why, but you know there's a bit of a pandemic when you have a book on your bookshelf called "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" (What? With a title that awesome, how could I not buy it?) But this morning, whilst tooling around on youtube, I found the coolest Zombie-themed video I've ever seen, with them popping up in the most unexpected place ever.

Apparantly, this is a fan made video advertising a new book or something, but I don't know. It's fabulous, is what it is. Zombie-tastic. And in the words of Professor Farnsworth, the Jedi aren't going to like this...

I haven't read a Star Wars novel in years, but if this one is as genuinely creepy as this video makes it look, I may have to remedy that. Who WOULDN'T

want to be armed with a lightsaber during a Zombie outbreak?

Set Swoonage to MAXIMUM!!

2009-10-08T10:00:00.002+11:00

In case my little Glee rant didn't win you over the other day, I thought I'd how off this clip of the guys from Glee performing "It's my Life" from Bon Jovi that was released as a teaser for this weeks episode. If only because it has resulted in me falling even more utterly, tragically in love with Finn, the lead singer. And holy shit- check out the Asian kids moves! He's fantastic! This show is so great! I'm drowning in a sea of woo!

9 days out, tragedy strikes!

2009-10-07T20:34:00.002+11:00

Regular readers will no doubt recall, my very reason for living, aka LIZA MINNELLI, LIVE AT THE OPERA HOUSE, is only 9 sleeps away. Which is too exciting for words. However, things are NOT progressing smoothly towards this once in a lifetime event. Despite the fact that the hotel is booked, the outfit is underway and the weekend is well and truly planned, we've hit a minor setback to the arrangements.

The tickets have gone missing.

Let me repeat that, so it sinks in. The fucking tickets to Liza Minnelli are gone.

I've looked everywhere. In draws, under beds, behind photo frames, in the fridge... I've run out of options, and I'm freaking out. The thing that makes the whole thing even more unbearable though, is the fact that the tickets were MY damn responsibility! So clearly, what has happened is, I've put them in some place so ridiculously safe, even Batman couldn't trace them. And as far as detectives go, he's up there... Losing ANYTHING pisses me off, but losing something like this, pissed off doesn't even BEGIN to cover it. I've seen the tickets since movine, so I KNOW they had to be in my room at least once, and it's not like I'm living in the Spelling Mansion. My room isn't THAT big. There can't be that many places for two tickets to hide. So clearly, the only logical explanation is, they've been eaten by Yosh. Further cementing my belief that I have the worlds most useless dog. Maybe I can trade him for seats? I'm sure Liza would look divine with a Yosh-skin purse!

Am I the walrus now??

2009-10-06T20:02:00.003+11:00

A few months ago, I was planning to write a blog about how, try as I might, I just didn't GET the Beatles. Not that I had anything actively against them, it's just... they didn't register anything more than absolute indifference in me. I heard a lot about how they "revolutionised music" and "changed the way things were done" and all that guff ad nauseum, but I just didn't see how that translated into anything worth listening to. And then, the world seemed to go into Beatle overdrive, for reasons I'm still not sure of (Was it something to do with Michael Jackson dying? Didn't he own the rights, or something? I'm not sure...), and they were everywhere. I felt like a pilgrim in an unholy land. And the thing that has ALWAYS blown me away about the Beatles is the fact that, for some reason, it's social suicide to mention you don't like them. People look at you with that same judgmental stare usually reserved for people that kick babies, or rape nuns. Which blows me away. It's such a universally vehement reaction, it baffles me! Because, as someone with monumentally bad taste in music (said whilst my Dean Geyer poster stares lovingly at me, and my iTunes blares the soundtrack from "Toxic Avenger: The Musical) you'd think I'd be used to people thinking I'm a retard because of what I listen to. But even I get shocked when I say the Beatles do nothing for me.

So. For reasons still not entirely understood, I shocked myself the other day, and purchased Beatles: Rock Band. Because love them or hate them, I have to admit, the band is well known. I love Rock Band, but my main complaint is, I've never even heard half the damn songs before. At least with this one, I have a vague familiarity with the Beatles stuff, because I haven't been living under a goddamn rock for my entire life. And as much as I hate to admit it, you know what? It's REALLY started to grow on me! I still don't know a Paul from a George (and only know Ringo because in our loungeroom band, I'm the drummer. So, you know, narcissist that I am, I feel a certain connection to him), and I love the songs that make "proper" fans turn their noses up in disgust (I can't believe I'm not supposed to like Yellow Submarine! It's great!!) but the sheer innocent poppiness of them? I dig it! It's like, some of the most fun, infectious music I've ever heard! I'm not sure if I should be worried about the fact that all of my favourits seem to be the most cryptic, indecipherable, drug trips on the game, but dammit, I don't care. I DO see how they fly like Lucy in the Sky. And even if I'm not sure why, I'm pleased that they're both the Eggman and the Walrus. I'm not clear as to why they're dressed like Furries in the film clip, but I'm sure THEY had a good reason for it (actually, the trippy colourful visuals are often so distracting, I forget to play the drums because I'm too caught up in how pretty they are)

And the game is so stylish! I mean honestly, watch this intro, and try NOT to go "oooohhhh" at least once. You can't do it. Finally, I've managed to see why people rave about The Beatles. And all it took was a silly plastic drum kit and some splashy colours in the background to do it!

Broadway just got gayer? Count me in!

2009-10-05T19:48:00.002+11:00

Things I like?

Karen Walker? Check

Musical theatre? Check

So the recent announcement from Megan Mullally, that she will be producing and starring in Karen Walker: The Musical on broadway, understandably creates a feeling of contentment in me that borders on post-orgasmic. Because the only thing I love more than the things I love, is when the things I like combine, to make some sort of Super Experience of Love. Such as when Kristen Chenoweth was on Glee, or when Indiana Jones and Han Solo teamed up with Optimus Prime to fight Nazi's and ride motorbikes with the kids from Grease 2. (what do you mean you haven't seen that one? It was awesome. Trust me)

Anyway, seeing as I've dreamt of it forever, I've decided that the patron saint of homosexuals, Ms Walker, has sent me a sign that the time is right to cut the bullshit and finally make the pilgrimage to the Great White Way (Broadway, for the non homosexuals following at home.) What's more, to ensure that this is indeed the trip of a lifetime, I intend to head there over the Christmas period (Christmas 2011, to be precise. I figure I better give Karen a chance to actually WRITE the damn thing), and possibly manage to wing it so that I get to spend New Years Eve in Times Square. How's THAT for a bucket full of awesome?

Honestly, ever since I was a little girl, heading to Broadway has been a dream. And the fact that I get to incorporate stalking one of the most awesome celebrities on the face of the planet, only sweetens the arrangement that much more. And, WHITE CHRISTMAS! I've never even SEEN snow! Sigh. It's going to be EXACTLY like Home Alone 2. But with more alcohol. And less burglars. And no Macaulay Culkin. Actually, not that much like Home Alone 2, to be honest.

Gunna live forever? Probably not.

2009-10-04T23:16:00.003+11:00

I just got home from the Fame remake, and you know what? I still can't decide wether it was fantastic, or complete and utter rubbish. Probably somewhere in the middle, I'd say. Parts of it were, without a doubt, fantastic, but on the other hand, parts of it were, unquestionably, tripe. One thing is certain though. If your parents didn't send you to this school, they don't love you. At all. Which must be tough for you. (And it's the reason MY parents are getting crappy presents for Christmas this year)

Honestly, a school where people burst into random songs at semi-regular intervals? What could be more up my alley? Of course, according to this movie, if I DID go to the Performing Arts High, I would have to become a complete two dimensional caricature, and lose the ability for rational conversation or even basic confrontational skills (Seriously. The number of problems that could have been completely resolved with a sensible discussion between parties was crazy! Did Dawsons Creek teach these kids nothing? You ALWAYS give someone a chance to explain what you think you saw!) but I think I'd be ok with that, for a chance to be taught singing by Megan Mullaly. Actually, I'm sure of it. Megan Mullaly and Kelsey Grammar were the two best things Fame had going for it, and neither of them were in it for nearly long enough, even if Karen did get to belt out one particularly show stopping number.

The best part about attending PA though, would undoubtedly have been the fact that they can cram four years worth of melodrama and performances into just under two hours screen time- and WITHOUT the use of time travel. Of course, to do this, they sacrifice, you know, any sort of plot resolution whatsoever, but by the end, you really don't care who said what to whom, or why character A is breaking up with character B (actually, if you even realised they were in a relationship, you're doing better than I was), or even why they're still attending a school when all the successful kids have dropped out anyway. But whatevs. It was kind of fun, and it kept me entertained, for the most part. Even if I'm still not entirely sure what happened. It's not often I see something MORE scattered than my own thought process. And that's not nothing, that's something. Well done, Fame. I think.

I think I'm a "Gleek"

2009-10-03T22:33:00.002+10:00

I have a confession to make, and I don't CARE how much of a stereotype it makes me. I freaking LOVE Glee. After just FIVE episodes, it's already become one of my favourite shows in recent history. It's just fabulous. I adore it so much, if it was a person, I'm pretty sure I'd marry it. Or at least hook up with it behind the toilets at lunch time. It's got such an unapologetic sense of fun that feels as though it's tapping directly into my brain to spew out everything I've ever wanted in a show. And then turns it up to eleven. The pilot episode features the GREATEST version of "Don't Stop Believing" I've ever seen (ok, I'll be honest. It's the only version I've ever seen, but I'm assured by everyone that it's a song I'm supposed to have heard of, so in the vein of pretending to have decent music taste, I play along...) and the chemistry between the two leads, Rachael and Finn, is so tangible I'm shocked they haven't burst into flames yet. (Also, Finn is my latest celebrity crush. Sorry Piemaker. I've totally mindcheated on you. And I was completely pretending Finn was talking to me in the latest episode, instead of Rachael)

Honestly, I can't describe how fabulous the show is. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Yes, the writing can be shaky and... well, "simple" would probably be a fairly good description, but it MORE than makes up for it with drama, fabulousness, and energy. When the football team performed Single Ladies in the middle of a game? (Well, it wasn't the middle, but it WAS during...) I thought I'd died and gone to Homo Heaven! The only thing missing was Anthony Callea in angel wings, but given how gay this show already is, it's only a matter of time...

Oh. And Sue Sylvester is the greatest character to come along in YEARS. Dare I say, greatest character since... KAREN WALKER?? Yes. I think I dare.

Examples?

I'll often yell at homeless people: 'Hey, how is that homelessness working out for you? Try not being homeless for once.'

I'm going to ask you to smell your armpits. That's the smell of failure, and it's stinking up my office.

When I heard Sandy wanted to write himself into a scene as Queen Cleopatra, I was aroused. And then furious.

Sesame gets more Street. Cred, that is.

2009-10-03T12:30:00.000+10:00

This is one of the funniest things I've seen since... well... since the last time I wasted hours surfing Youtube looking for bizarre, obscure videos. Whatever. This is fantastic. And it makes me want to kill Elmo less than I normally do. Because let's face it. The furry little fucker would be more entertaining as a throw rug on my floor than as a character on Sesame Street, but credit where it's due- Kevin Clash is GREAT with the improv shit. Enjoy!

Going gaga for Gaga

2009-10-02T09:31:00.002+10:00

Holy jesus. This performance is one of the greatest things I've EVER seen.

And also, the reason why I felt the need to purchase tickets to see her live, seconds after the performance ended.

It's just amazing. She's amazing. I'm in awe of her awesomeness. And you've got to love anyone that dedicates an award to "God and the Gays".

Take THAT, America. Swoon.

Snot funny! (get it?)

2009-09-28T19:53:00.002+10:00

I know, I'm over a week late on the whole "dust storm" excitement, but I've been busy scraping down the back deck with a toothbrush to remove the final traces of Mars Dirt that has covered everything in existence. I've got to admit, waking up last Thursday morning to an eerie orange glow over everything DID inspire thoughts of an apocalypse, which, annoyingly, I had slept through (which isn't that strange. I've slept through all of Newcastles earthquakes as well, so I shouldn't really be surprised)

I discovered something odd about myself- the idea of an apocalypse kind of excites me! To the point where, discovering it had been a simple dust storm, and not the catastrophic annihilation of humanity, left me mildly disappointed. Should I be worried about myself? I mean, sure. It would be harder to organise a mixed netball team, given the extinction of the human race, but look on the positive side- no more traffic on the roads to worry about! No more queues at the supermarket! NO MORE WINONA RYDER!!!!

Once I realised, though, that the world wasn't facing imminent destruction, I turned my attention towards more pressing matters. No, not matters of cleanliness, or fear about the atmospheric or environmental impact the dust was having. Oh no. My biggest concern for the day (And one that I wasted FAR too much time and energy on?)

How much dust would one have to breathe in before it turned your snot orange?? The answer, it would seem, is far more than I managed. Which was disappointing. Oh well. I've always got the next natural disaster to look forward to. Failing that, I can snort some food colouring...

Anyone want to buy a dog?

2009-09-21T14:06:00.003+10:00

There comes a stage in every parents life where they look upon their children, and in a moment of unprecedented clarity, realise that the feeling they're experiencing, is complete and utter disappointment.We all know it's true. No one talks about it, but it's there. I had one such moment on Sunday.

Picture it. Glorious day. Didn't have to go to work. Aware of a Dog Fair Day at the park near my house. What a fabulously coincidental combination of events that lead to the brilliant idea of taking Yosh for a delightful stroll, so he can see and play with the other dogs, and we can be doing something more exciting than sitting around the house by ourselves, being bored. Brilliant plan. Apart from the tiny, forgettable fact that my dog is ridiculous, and my life tends to favour the absurd. (Honestly, I don't understand why! I'm sure most normal people could pull off a plan like that without anything going wrong. How do you become one of those people? What did I do wrong?)

Things were going ok once we arrived (despite the fact that NOBODY stopped my boy to tell him how pretty he was, despite ALL the other dogs getting complimented- honestly, shouldn't they at least lie? That shit will give him a complex!) right up until the sweet old lady came up and fucked everything. Now, with this lady, we're talking SWEET. Sugary sweet. A combination of Sophia Petrelli from the Golden Girls, and everybody's Grandmother in the whole world. Nicest old thing I've ever seen. And she walks up and starts patting Yosh, and telling him how fabulous he looks, and how great he is, and what a lovely boy he must be, and, like father like son, we're both whores for a couple of well placed compliments. By this stage, the lady could have asked either of us to blow up a truck load of pandas and we would have agreed. So when she suggested entering in the small dog race, it seemed like a DAMN good idea. Despite the fact that, you know, I KNOW Yosh is a retard.

So we entered. Apparently, he was a good candidate for the "Pointy Dog Race" (jesus, why not just call him ugly and be done with it? A little sensitivity, people- he has issues with being so damn angular!) Our first issue arose when I had to coax him into the starting box, which was little more than a tiny cage. Once we overcame THAT obstacle, the bastard ESCAPED from said starting box, and ran the length of the field looking for me, distressed at the idea of being abandoned in a cage (memories from his time in lockup must still be fresh). Whilst looking for me, he ran straight past me. This should have been my biggest sign this wasn't going to end well. So I got him BACK in the box, and managed to keep him there, as I took my place at the end of the field. Race started, dogs took off... except for mine. Who was still looking for me. Instead of following the horde of running dogs, he decided his chances of finding me would be better in the big crowd of human spectators. So he went to them. Then saw me and sat down. So not only did he fail at the race, I THEN HAD TO WALK TO HIM! All with a cheering crowd, laughing at what a retard he was, and what an ineffectual parent I turned out to be.

And to add insult to injury, he was beaten by the three legged entrant. How the HELL does that happen? I at least assumed we'd be guaranteed SECOND LAST! Stupid dog. So I think I'm going to sell him. Who wants to make the starting bid??

Indiana Jones 5? Bring it on!

2009-09-16T10:02:00.002+10:00

Indiana Jones is awesome. FUCKING AWESOME. I don't care who you are or what your opinions towards Kingdom of the Crystal Skull- Indy as a character is more awesome than you OR your dad. And I don't care if I'm the only person on the face of the planet excited about these talks about a fifth Indiana Jones movie. You know what? I'll be excited enough for all of us. Harrison Ford, wearing a fedora, punching bad guys (be they Russian or Nazis) is guaranteed to put a smile on my face every time. And don't give me that anti-KotCS bullshit. It was fun, dammit. Yes, he survived a nuclear blast by hiding in a fridge. Yes, Shia LaBouf pretended to be Tarzan. And yes. We saw aliens. But you know what? Go to hell. It was pure Indy-tainment. And it had Marion. And waterfalls. And that warehouse bit at the start was fabulous!

Now I'll admit, on the scale of Indy films, his latest outing wasn't his greatest. But did it have to be? Have we become so jaded as a culture that we demand EVERYTHING to be the BEST THING EVER? Indiana Jones doesn't owe you shit.

If Harrison Ford wants to wear his hat and play with his whip again, I'm totally, one hundred percent on board with that! And not only on board, I'm thrilled. Remember how excited we all were when the first images for Crystal Skull started coming out? And the trailer? I almost wet myself! I can't wait to recapture that level of pure unadulterated fun.

So while the internet implodes on itself with people who can't wait to make their snide comments about how much they're sure the latest outing will suck balls, I'll keep my little corner of the net brimming with optimism. And I might be the only person in the world doing it, but I'm crossing my fingers and hoping to hell this bastard gets made!

And for those needing further proof that Indy is still freaking fabulous:

Get that up ya.

Sigh. Will I never learn?

2009-09-16T09:06:00.002+10:00

In my last post, I mentioned that I was reading The Lost Symbol, mostly for research purposes. I mean, you can't work in a bookshop and not read what is essentially the most heavily anticipated book since the last Harry Potter, in my humble opinion, despite the anticipated lack of quality. And honestly, I'm not a book snob. Entertain me with a ripping yarn, and I don't care HOW badly you write. Lets face it. The last two Robert Langdon books were fun. They weren't fabulous, but they were fun. And who didn't love seeing the Catholic Church getting it's panties in a bunch over it?

So I wasn't TOO hesitant to give the latest one a try. Until page 8, where we have THIS little exchange.

"I thought so!" she said, beaming. "My book group read your book about the sacred feminine and the church! What a delicious scandal that one caused! You do enjoy putting the fox in the henhouse!"

Langdon smiled. "Scandal wasn't really my intention."

Excuse me? Did you just pull me OUT of your story for the sake of a hamfisted meta-justification for your last book? Am I reading too much into this? Or did Dan Brown just break the fourth wall in an attempt to "cleverly" address the criticisms leveled at The DaVinci Code? That's how it reads to me. Fuck you, Dan Brown! And what book club, on the face of the PLANET, is going to read some fucking cryptologists text on symbolism and the sacred feminine? Book clubs read Pride and Prejudice, or The Slap, or Life of Pi. Not a freaking textbook. It's ridiculous. Would never happen. And it has managed to turn me OFF your stupid book in EIGHT GODDAMN PAGES! That has to be some kind of record- even Matthew Reilley couldn't do that.

Very shoddy, Mr Brown. I expected more from you. I'm not sure why, but I did.

All good things...

2009-09-16T08:36:00.002+10:00

You know, I think I can honestly say, I'm on the BEST reading streak of my entire life. It's fantastic. It started when I picked up "Let the Right One In" on a whim, despite my almost deathly aversion to things I expect to scare the crap out of me, and it's lasted all the way up till now. Actually, it may have even started before that, I just can't for the life of me remember what I was reading then...

Let the Right One In

Brilliant. Vampire story with REAL vampires, not this sparkly, romantascised, Stephenie Meyer claptrap. Actually, as basic stories go, this one almost reminded me a little of Twilight, if Twilight were done properly. What we have here is a story that so subtly plays its vampire/ human romance that the whole thing comes off as slightly believable, and completely beautiful, as opposed to vaguely peadophilic and entirely creepy. And the best part is, it didn't scare the hell out of me like I expected it to!

Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

I think everything that can be said, has been said about this one. One of the simplest, yet most powerful holocaust-related books I've ever read. The sense of childish innocence gives this such a unique tone, it's hard to put it down. And that ending- I think almost everyone knows the twist ending by now, and god I wish I didn't know it beforehand, but it's utterly fabulous.

King Solomons Mines

I'm not sure what inspired me to pick this one up. I do love a good adventure story though, and figured this was one of the first, so why not give it a go. You know that feeling you get when you read a "classic", where you just can't get into it, because it's so far removed stylistically from anything you usually read (or is that just me?) This manages to completely bypass that awkwardness, and just manages to be a kick ass, fun story. And Allan Quatermain is NOTHING like the pussy Sean Connery made him look like in that fuckawful League of Extraordinary Gentlemen movie. He's a no nonsense, elephant killing, treasure finding BASTARD. I love it.

The Road

Another one of those books that you want to finish in one sitting, it's a bleak, post-apocalyptic tale about a man and his son attempting to survive. That's it. They're not surviving with any point or purpose- survival is the entirety of their plan, and it's fantastic. It doesn't give in to the cliche of most end of the world stories and become Mad Max at any stage, it's just the story of these two people, and how they are one anothers entire world. It was gorgeous. And when I say bleak, trust me. Thats not me talking crap.

Me Talk Pretty One Day

I finally decided to give David Sedaris a try after hearing so many good things about him. Turns out they were justified. He was hilarious. I'm starting to develop an affinity for these types of books, as well, humerous memoirs about people I can imagine hanging out with.

Sadly though, all good things must come to an end, and now I'm reading The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown. I've mentioned before how sometimes I read things I know I'm not going to love, because I feel to be good at my job I occasionally have to read what the masses are reading, but when it breaks a streak like this, jesus it's hard to do. Who knows. Dan Brown may manage to surprise me this time...

This one's for Simon

2009-09-14T00:51:00.003+10:00

What the cock is this shit? Is it any wonder Alan Moore worships at the alter of a snake god?? (Or should I say, THE snake god? I don't think there's a huge amount of them...)

Having said that, I'd totally watch this...

Holy Liza, Batman!

2009-09-12T17:37:00.002+10:00

Watch this, and try to tell me she's not one of the greatest performers of all time. I dare you.

Funerals are lame!

2009-09-08T18:30:00.002+10:00

I know saying you dislike funerals is on par with mentioning that you hates The Phantom Menace, or that you think Nazis were bastards, or that Tom Cruise is a douche, in that it's one of those things that you generally don't need to waste your breath on, it's kind of a given in polite society, but after my funeral experiences last week, I feel the need to just point out: I REALLY HATE FUNERALS. Not that they're SUPPOSED to be pleasant, I suppose, but still. I hate the spectacle being made of the grieving process- it just seems so crass. As though the whole thing is being touted as some sort of stadium event for everyone to look at everyone else and rate how many sads we're all bringing to the party in some ridiculous sense of morbid one-upmanship. It's nonsense.

Because, as I believe I may have mentioned on here before, I'm an incredibly vain, self centered individual, being at somebody else's funeral invariably made me start thinking about my own, and I've come up with a few guidelines. Readers, take note. You never know when I'm going to drop dead, and it might be up to YOU to make sure these get adhered to.

Firstly: NO AMAZING GRACE. Jesus Christ. If there was ever a song that made me wish I could rip my own ears off instead of listening to the end, it was this one. I've never understood why it's such a staple when someon shuffles off this mortal coil- Do people think they wont get let into heaven unless they've bored everyone in attendance at their funeral with this crusty piece of waffle? So that's a definite. Whoever suggests playing this gets a haunting.

Secondly: NO BLACK. Honestly. The only thing I dislike more than Black is Grey. Don't wear either. Bloody hell, I wear mismatched colourful shoes, for goodness sake, do people REALLY think they'll be honouring me by rocking up clad like a ninja? Actually, if you genuinely ARE dressed like a ninja, come on in. Because that would be cool. Fancy dress funeral? The idea has merit...

Thirdly: NO RELIGION! I cannot stress this enough! Do not clog up my funeral with nonsense gibberish about everlasting life, unless you're making a Zombie metaphor!

This is a good starting point, I think. I also think I'll write a few eulogies to have on standby, just so I can make sure everyone is saying something nice about me that has been approved in advance. You know, something heartfelt and sincere. From me to me.

Cynicism is easier for atheists

2009-09-02T18:55:00.000+10:00

You know, one of my major regrets as an atheist is the fact that I take absolutely no solace in the notion of an afterlife whatsoever. Because really, sometimes it would be nice to fall into a comforting idea of a cliche-ridden, cloud-filled heaven with angels playing harps and invisible choirs singing and a bearded elderly God sitting somewhere on a throne watching the whole thing benignly. Or, alternatively, my personal idea of heaven, which is basically, me, a beach, and an army of Aussiebum models for all of forever.
But you see, because I reject the fairy tale answers religion presents to these things, to me, death is nothing but an ending. Oblivion. You cease to exist. Which some people find kind of depressing, but personally, I find oddly comforting at times. Honestly, the idea of “eternity”, in ANY capacity, pretty much freaks me out, so the thought of just... not being, anymore, brings with it a sense of completion that I tend to embrace.
This is fine ninety eight percent of the time. Which of course, brings us to the other two percent. Last week, my family lost another member. My Aunt, Judith. Just fifty years old. Wife. Mother to three. Friend. Aunt. All round loved person (Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing I hate more than canonising the dead. She COULD be a right pain in the ass, and you’ve NEVER met anyone as anal retentive as this woman) And when you think of someone in such human terms, it becomes progressively more difficult to accept that this person who EXISTED, whom you knew, and shared life with, just... isn’t, anymore. It’s death, and it’s impersonal, and it sucks.
I consider myself a rational, sensible person (most of the time) but looking at my cousin this afternoon, I hated not only myself, but the world in general, because there was NOTHING I could say to comfort him. He’s lost his mother. At the age of thirteen. How on earth do you even begin to understand what that kid has to go through? And what platitudes are there, when the nicest thing you can think to say is that at least his mum isn’t in pain anymore?
Sometimes the reality of life makes me sick.

Twilight fans have gone TOO FAR!

2009-08-25T19:08:00.004+10:00

I know I tend to harp on about Twilight a fair bit on here, and it may start to sound like I'm harbouring a bit of a vendetta, but believe me when I say, I have NOTHING against the books. Sure, they're a fairly forgettable piece of quasi-vampire romance tripe, but whatever floats your boat. I don't judge. Truth be told, I'm insanely jealous of Stephanie Meyers ability to half-ass her way through a cliche, refer to her protagonists as Vampires whilst adhering to NONE of the established conventions of Vampire lore, and STILL make more money last year than New Zealand. Because that takes something special. Not talent, obviously, but something.

No, like I've said here before, my Twilight apathy comes almost entirely from the socially stunted, cringe inducing, Edward adoring Twi-Hards. And my hatred of them has gone all the way up to eleven. I thought it was bad when I discovered Edward and Bella Action Figures were in existence, but you know what I realise? I kind of long for the days when the worst thing I'd seen was a broody, emo vampire toy. Because today, the internet exposed me to these.

Twilight Shower Curtain

It's convenient, I suppose, that this lives in the shower. Because scrubbing myself clean is the first thing I thought of when I saw it. Seriously, is this not one of the most sickening things you've ever seen? It's a giant, brooding, disembodied head watching you stand around in the nude! It's like a perverted version of Mulligrubs (am I the only person that gets that reference?) WTF? But, hang on. This is only the tip of the sparkly iceberg. Because shortly after I washed the taste of vomit out of my mouth, I stumbled across this little gem.

Twilight Wall Decal

You know. For the people that REALLY need to feel like someone is watching them sleep. Now, the more I think about this, the more I'm forced to accept that if it was Batman, or Indiana Jones or someone, I'd totally want it, but still. They're hardly in the same category as a weirdass Vampire twat that hangs around your bedroom while you sleep. And just when you think we've found the stupidest piece of film memorabilia of all time, the internet delivers us this. And I apologise in advance for offending anyones sensibilities...

Twilight Dildo

There really isn't much I can say about this. It's exactly what it looks like. A replica of Edward Cullens dong. An alabaster white dildo that sparkles. Well. I never. I mean, are there words to convey all I wish to convey here? Is your mind exploding quite as severely as mine did? I just... What the fucking fuck? Why does this exist? Who feels the need to be rogered by a fictional character SO badly that they'll buy a sex toy covered in sparkliness? Want to hear something that makes this even better? The description on the website reads, AND I QUOTE: Yes the The Vamp retains hot and cold temperature. Toss it in the fridge for that authentic experience. What the effing crap? So now, not only are you debasing yourself with a plastic sparkly Vampiric cocktoy, IT'S FREEZING FUCKING COLD! Just like Edward... What. The. Fuck.

I honestly have no more words. This thing has completely shattered my faith in humanity as a species. And it's ability to survive beyond the next fifteen years. My only question is, how long until we start stocking these at work???

Indiana Jones and the Kidnapped Broad

2009-08-23T21:01:00.002+10:00

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN?

Now don't get me wrong. I love me some Indiana Jones goodness. Even the FAR less popular Temple of Doom. I mean sure, it's lacks the action of the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and it's not as hilarious as Indy and his Dads interactions in Last Crusade, but still, the Mine Cart chase is fun, and Indy kicking ass is ALWAYS enjoyable. But. Why the hell does nobody seem to mind that he blatantly kidnaps Willie Scott?

I mean, let's look at the facts. Willie performs at Club Obi Wan (In a logistically ridiculous number that could never be feasibly staged, but thats for another time). Indy rocks up with the ashes of Nurhachi. Shit goes down, and the next thing you know, Indy and Willie are making a quick getaway. Now, this much I understand. She has the antidote he needs. So thus far, having her along seems like a good idea. But thats where it ends. Once they hit the airport and manage to escape in Lao Ches plane, what possible reason is there for her to join them? It's not like she made herself overly useful up until that point- actually, just the opposite! She lost the diamond, she dropped the gun AND she bitched incessantly. None of these are desirable in a traveling companion. Especially when you just KNOW adventures are afoot.

So, the only explanation is, Indiana Jones is a kidnapper. I'm not even being stupid here. He literally forced her out of the club- no one was trying to hurt her in there, remember. In fact, the first person to even threaten her was Indy himself! With a fork. From there, he forces her out of the club, and instead of leaving her in the safety of Shanghai, where she lives and works quite happily, he makes her get on the plane and accompany him to wherever he was planning to go! Now, I'm not one to overdramatise, but thats just one roofie away from a daterape/abduction combo...Not a TERRIBLE way to spend an evening with Indiana Jones, sure, but not the most PC thing you can imagine a respected US Archaeologist getting up to in his spare time.

Seriously. Go watch the movie again. See if you can look at it the same way. And then, explain to me where the fuck Short Round dissapears to after this movie! Would it have killed them to chuck an Asian guy into the wedding scene at the end of Crystal Skull, to fanwank the continuity buffs? Gah!

Mikeys World

2009-08-22T15:43:00.002+10:00

Time for a rambling look at what's keeping me occupied, I think. Now, I've often worried that posts like these can be seen as mildly self indulgent, but at the end of the day, this gives you more of an idea on the person that I am, or at least, the things that are currently occupying my life and/or time, and thats one of the reasons for keeping a blog, right? Wikipedia says yes.

So. At the moment I'm currently:

READING

I don't know ANYTHING about this book except for the fact I expect it to scare the holy Christ out of me. I haven't actually started it yet, but thought it seemed more exciting than the Jeremy Clarkson book I just managed to make my way through. I'll let you know if this is worth it, but honestly, who DOESN'T love Vampires that don't sparkle?

WATCHING

Torchwood, Season One. Yeah, I know, 2007 called, just to say I'm late. I don't care. Call me a Johnny-Come-Lately, but this is great! I love it! So unexpectedly fantastic, despite some slightly dodgy episodes and some questionable acting.

LISTENING TO

Now, if the Legally Blonde musical taught us anything, it's that successful adaptations of classic movies into fantastic musicals ISN'T impossible. Just rare. So I shouldn't be so suprised at just how brilliant this turned out to be! It's funny, it's catchy, it's quirky... basically, everything you could want in a musical, as well as a tongue-in-cheek sense of humour and a camp as tits villain.

LOOKING FORWARD TO

Liza Minnelli. Live. In just over a month. What the fucking fuck? So excited I could pee.

So thats a brief glimpse into the working of the inner Mikey. Oh, and I really want to start wearing a bandana like a Ninja Turtle. But I don't know where to get one or how to make one. Any suggestions?

What's going on??

2009-08-16T22:04:00.002+10:00

I'm not sure what happened today. As a matter of fact, I'm still slightly in shock. This weekend, not a SINGLE fuckwit came in to work! Like, all weekend! This is not only unheard of, it is, up until now, an absolute statistical impossibility. Or so I thought.

Working on a Saturday or Sunday is, under normal circumstances, a one way ticket to a migraine. We all know how well I deal with idiots, and on a weekend, in my experience, every idiot on the face of the planet has the urge to come and buy a book. From me. Without knowing the title, author, subject matter, or anything else even remotely helpful. Although a surprisingly large number of them DO seem to be able to remember the colour of the book. Or possibly the publisher. The two most unhelpful pieces of information on the planet to one attempting to locate said book for you.

However, due to some amazing twist of fate, this weekend was populated wholey and soley by people that DIDN'T make me want to kill myself. Not once did I feel the telltale signs of an oncoming psychopathic episode. Not even directed at other employees. Like I said, I'm still in total shock.

No wonder I was in such a good mood. See, I like when the world works.

God Damn Dog!

2009-08-06T19:40:00.002+10:00

Today, the moment every parent dreads came along. I got a phone call to say my son was missing. Yes, my furry, annoying, four legged son Yoshie was not where I'd left him, safe and sound in the backyard. Well, as you can imagine, my heart stopped. Completely. Every terrible possibility imaginable screamed through my brain. I left work in a hurry, raced home, and devoted the rest of my afternoon to patrolling the streets, calling his name and whistling for him, getting more and more panicky as time went on without a sign of the little "angel".

By this stage, Mikey's beside himself, positive the worst has occurred. Then the bright idea of ringing the RSPCA was brought up. Long story short, they were able to confirm that he had been picked up, and was fine, and that I could go and collect him. For a small fee.

Yes. I had to post bail to bust my dog out of lockup. He needed me to fill out some forms (I guess I'm guaranteeing he wont become a repeat offender) pay an absolute FORTUNE, aaaaand had to sit and be lectured about the fact that Yoshie now had a Permanant Record. Let me repeat that. My dog has obtained a criminal record. He's a puppy with a past.

And I'm the hapless parent of a problem pooch.

Thank god this story had a happy (albeit expensive) ending. Stupid bloody dog. <3

Alas, poor Lynchy.

2009-08-05T22:12:00.001+10:00

One of the most distressing parts of not having access to a blog this past month has undoubtedly been the fact that there have been some seriously MAJOR developments in my life, both positive AND negative, that I’d love to have been able to write about. Because lets face it. If I can’t talk about the most important things going on in my life here, then honestly, what’s the point?

Now, I’ve already spoken of the major positive change ( in the form of Jammin’ Ben, the new romance), so it would be remiss of me not to mention the negative. And the most negative of the negative things to happen to me recently would HAVE to be the loss of one of the coolest people on the face of the entire planet. Sarah.

Ok, I make her sound like she’s died. I should clarify- she’s vacationing for the next few months in Europe, which, you know, is fantastic for her, but I can be as selfish as I like on my own blog, and this is my chance to bitch about the fact that she’s gone. Except surprisingly, that’s not what I want to do. Because the only person that would be even remotely interested in that is me. So, what I thought would be more entertaining is, instead of moping about the fact that she’s gone, I could revisit some of the more awesome things that happened whilst she was here, demonstrating to everyone just how fucking awesome this girl is, and why you should feel sad she’s in Europe, as opposed to here, being ridiculously awesome some more. So, in no particular order, here are my absolute favourite Sarah memories, for your enjoyment. Well, my favourites that I can think of at this point in time. Which is to say, there are lots more, but these are the ones standing out right now.

Cool Rider

I will never forget the day Sarah and I realised we both loved Grease 2 more than the lackluster original. You know that feeling you get when you realise you’ve encountered a soul mate? Someone that is destined to be a part of your life from here to eternity? For us, this was it. When we confirmed that “Cool Rider” left “Summer Loving” for dead, or that “Who’s That Guy?” was far superior to “Grease Lightening”? Well, I hesitate to use the term “love at first sight”, but it was there that we realised our friendship was destined to be something special.

Truck FM

Ok, the whole weekend where we went to see “Wicked” in Melbourne deserves a mention as particularly awesome, but the highlight of that ENTIRE trip, to me at least (apart from, you know, the extremely expensive musical we were there to see) was on the drive down from Newcastle to Melbourne, where we discovered a fantastic little radio station called Truck FM to entertain us ridiculously for several hours at 3 in the morning. Not only did we discover said station, Sarah managed to get herself featured on air requesting Lady Gaga’s “Love Game”. There’s nothing quite like hearing one of your best friends featured on a radio station aimed primarily at forty year old truck drivers asking for a song about riding on someone’s Disco Stick at 4 am to remind you of how great life can be.

Separate Birthdays

Despite the fact that our birthdays are separated by less than a fortnight, we decided VERY early in our friendship that joint parties were COMPLETELY out of the question. Mainly because we were both FAR too selfish to share. Which I think made us slightly closer to be honest...

Mardi Gras 2009

I blame this memory on Sarah, but really, it was her Grandmother telling me I looked 15 that made this a fantastic recollection. God bless the sweet lady. Clearly, a nicer side of the family than Sarah took after.

Ok, there are lots of memories bottled up in here, telling me how amazing this woman is, but you know what? I don’t really feel the need to unleash them all right now. Take my word for it- she’s fabulous. Utterly, utterly fabulous. And already missed. But not in a bad way- only in a way that makes me realise how ridiculously awesome it’s going to be when she comes back to the country.

Sarah, if you read this, you are one of my favourite people ever. I love you, and miss you, and hope you’re having a fantastic time. In your absence, I dedicate this song to you. Think of me when you hear it...

A new nemesis

2009-08-04T13:08:00.001+10:00

In a very exciting turn for the books, the other night, I discovered a brand new Arch Nemesis. This is a good thing, because it's a position which has gone too long vacant, quite frankly. I'm not sure of her name, but for convenience sake, I shall refer to her only by her Super Villain name: "Treble Clef", which sounds quite cool and threatening in a Super Villain kind of way.

It begun on Friday night, innocently enough, when we all gathered at a pub to celebrate Simon's 21st birthday, when disaster struck. Here I was, minding my own business, as I do, enjoying the frivolity and merriment, when Treble Clef struck. She came to collect empty glasses and bottles, then announced "I'm going to need to check everyones I.D, thanks."

So far, no problem. Until she made good on her promise of checking everyone's Identification. Everyone, that is, except for mine. Apparantly, in a group of 35 people (and yes, that number increases every time I relay this story), I'm the ONLY ONE that doesn't warrant being asked for proof of age. What. The. Frak?

Clearly, as this CANNOT be the case (I refuse to accept it as fact, quite frankly), I was the victim of a personal, hate filled attack, thus sparking a rivalry between myself and this woman, the likes of which is set to rival the best rivalries in history- Lex Luthor and Superman, Batman and the Joker. Mikey and Treble Clef. Actually, maybe I need a slightly cooler alter ego, because at the moment her name sounds better than mine. Nevertheless, despite what SHE would have you believe, I'm fairly certain I looked rather nice the other night, despite all the evidence to the contrary, thank you very much.

Don't worry though- I gave her the glaring of a lifetime for the rest of the evening. Fairly certain that means I won.

Maybe Justin Long will like me now!

2009-08-03T18:31:00.000+10:00

Not that winning Justin Longs affections is one of my long term life goals, but still, doesn’t hurt to make an effort occasionally, and so, knowing that he likes to spruik Apple Computers from time to time, I accidentally bought one. I say accidentally, but from memory, I didn’t actually take THAT MUCH convincing.

It was my day off, and looking for something exciting to do, I decided to go to the computer store, for the simple reason that I wanted to PRICE an Apple MacBook. That’s all. Well, within about twenty minutes, I was being spoken to by a very convincing salesman, who was doing a fantastic job of telling me that, basically, my life was merely a life half lived, with me being nothing more than some pathetic husk of a person, never truly experienceing all the joy life has to offer, until I’m experiencing said lifejoy on an Apple Computer. Like I said, very convincing. And you know how I hate being a husk, so naturally, my ears pricked up. When they then started singing the benefits of an interest free, no repayments thingamy, my curiosity was piked. When I decided to apply, for shits and giggles, fully expecting a knockback, I was amazed to actually get approved for an OBSCENE amount of money. Which I promptly spent on the aforementioned laptop, as well as all the completely one hundred percent necessary attachments and accessories. I DID think $200 was a little excessive for a surge protector (especially when within a week, said surge protector BURST INTO FLAMES), and the $60 I spent on something called iClean may not have been exactly sensible, but all in all, I’m thrilled to bits- my computer is so pretty! Even if I don’t have a fucking clue how to do anything on it at all...

Actually getting the computer, after I’d paid them all my money, turned out to be a bit of a nightmare (three trips back due to having been given the wrong computer each time, going back to pick up a program I’d been promised, having to return burnt husk of a surge protector, etc) but that’s nothing a crankily worded email to the company wont fix. For now, let’s all bask in the prettiness.

*bask*

Well you’ll still need a tray.

2009-08-03T18:29:00.000+10:00

Included wholly and solely to make you all giggle, I present Eddie Izzard’s take on the Death Star Canteen. Honestly, I can’t get enough of this man- he’s hilarious! And by god he can pull off a pair of heels and a sequined gown in a way that makes most of the women I know jealous!

“This is not a game of who-the-fuck-are-you!”

Enjoy:

Remember my name! FAME!

2009-08-03T18:25:00.001+10:00

I wanna live forever! I wanna learn how to fly! As I’m sitting here, typing away, the fantastic song “Fame” by Irene Cara just came on my iPod, and it reminded me of the fact they’re remaking it, to be released soon. As all good children of the 80s, I love this song in an unhealthy way, and can’t get enough of the movie, so naturally, I was hesitant about the prospect of a remake. Because lets face it. They generally suck. Hesitant, that is, until I saw the trailer. Watch this: INSERT TRAILER HERE.

Ho. Lee. Shit.

How awesome does that look! I’m so excited I may have just urinated a little bit. Not only do we have Megan Mullally (and lets be honest, we all love her) and Kelsey Grammar (again- love him) but is that not THE most amazing update of the Fame song you could possibly imagine? Talk about sexed up! It’s so hot! And yes, the film will probably be one of the most cliche ridden, predictable pieces of tripe this side of Hannah Montanna, but I honestly don’t care- it looks like it’s going to be a fantastic amount of fun- and thats all I really want in a musical based on the New York School of Performing Arts. Bring it on, bitches!

MUST READ!!!!

2009-08-03T18:18:00.004+10:00

Again with me giving you your reading orders, but honestly, have I steered you wrong so far? I’m not sure if you recall, but several months ago, I wrote about a book called Incendiary by Chris Cleave, singing its praises and worshipping him as an author? I’ve finally gotten around to reading his second novel, The Other Hand, and all I can say is... Whoa. Actually, I can say a lot more that that, and I’m about to.

The marketing of this book is absolutely phenomenal, in that the blurb deliberately reveals NOTHING about it whatsoever, instead claiming that the beauty of this novel is in discovering it for yourself. It also implores you, when talking of this book to friends, that you don’t tell THEM what happens either. Now, call me a cynic, but upon reading something like that, my first response is always skepticism, thinking they’re using an interesting hook to spruik a not very interesting book. But, intrigued, I tried i anyway. And thank god I did- this book was amazing. Utterly amazing. Realistic, morally ambiguous characters, heartbreaking, inevitable situations, humour, hope, despair, everything. It’s a wonderful, wonderful book. I think it’s safe to say I’m onboard with ANYTHING Chris CLeave writes from here on in. The man is amazing.

At the bookshop I work at, we can borrow any book we want to read, so long as it comes back in perfect condition. I finished reading The Other Hand, jumped in the car, drove straight to work and paid for it. It’s just that good.

Enter stage left: love interest.

2009-08-03T18:18:00.001+10:00

In a development that I think shocked everyone (although honestly, nobody moreso than me) Mikey has a new romantic lead! I know- how unexpected was THAT! His name is Benjamin, he’s a musician, and he’s utterly FABULOUS (as I suppose he would have to be- I can’t be dating just any old trash now, can I?)

We met a few weeks ago, when I was working the spotlight for “Dragalicious”, a Drag Show a couple of my friends were responsible for, and obviously, he was instantly taken by my awesomeness (shut up- it’s my blog, I’ll tell it as I see it) and here we are. Actually, our “how we met” story is pretty fantastic, even without my bullshit embellishments, so I’ll present the full story for your enjoyment.

The first aspect of it that tickled me immensely was that, if you’ll recall, recently I got in touch with my inner Elphaba and cast myself a love spell, as part of my ongoing commitment to “No Week Will Be Wasted 2009” . Which, at the time, we all assumed was a complete nonsense. Until you realise that the very same day I cast that particular spell was the day I first met Benjamin at G, the local homosexual hangout. So, you know, totally a wizard now. But that still left us with the sordid “we met in a bar” story that I despise so much. Honestly, it just sounds so trashy. And not in the fun, Dolly Parton sense of the word. After expressing my concerns to Benjamin, he seemed to think I was completely insane, which, lets face it, genuine concern, but anyway, we left it at that and went on with life.

The next day, I was at work, looking suitably busy, when I look up and see him, browsing books. Now, pay attention, because this is the really swoony part- he walked up to me, said “Hi, I saw you and thought you might like this” and handed me a napkin from the coffee shop upstairs with his number scribbled on it with the words “call me”. He rewrote history for me so that we’d have a better story of how we met! And with that one ridiculously romantic gesture, Mikey melted. I tell ya, the boy knows how to woo. I think we’ve found a keeper.

Where am I? Who are you? What happened to my pants?

2009-08-03T18:17:00.000+10:00

Mission: Maintain blog with awe-inspiring regularity

Status: Failed. Rather epically, I might add.

Ok, not to bore everyone with my usual tales of woe excusing my bloggy tardiness, but at the moment, I am completely and utterly bereft of internets, so, you know, it DOES make keeping an online journal a tad difficult when deprived of the major ingredient (ie, the ONLINE portion) Which is a shame, because a LOT has happened since we last spoke. SucH AS: farewell to the aqua house. Farewell to Lynchy. Welcome on board to the new love interest. NWWBW has been progressing nicely. Fabulous books have been read. Delightful celebrities have been viewed. All in all, the term “winning at life” comes to mind. Stay tuned for the full details.

Mass Update: ACTIVATE!!!

2009-08-03T18:12:00.002+10:00

Not sure if I even HAVE any readers anymore, but on the minor assumption that I do, have I got news for you!!! It's a mass update! Weeee! Without dwelling too much on the details, I've been away from regular net access for a few weeks now, and it has been absolutely killing me, but, in a desperate attempt to keep the blog alive, I've still been writing my updates, knowing that one magical day, I'd be back, to flood you all with a torrent of updates to sustain you for the future. And this is that day. So, sit back, take some prescription medication, poor a couple of wines, and enjoy! And welcome back- I've missed you!

Little Mermaid- NOT FOR KIDS

2009-06-24T19:55:00.002+10:00

I thought a quick parenting tip from Mikey was in order today, based on a lesson learnt the hard way by myself when I was a youngster. Actually, there are a few stories like this, which I feel contributed to making me the bat-shit crazy individual we see before us today, and in time, I hope to share each and every one with you. If not you, then with a certified Medical Professional at some stage in my future. We'll see which is more appropriate.

Anyways, like most kiddies growing up in the 80's, I was obsessed with the charming Disney movie "The Little Mermaid". To the extent where my childhood ambition was to actually BE a mermaid. Not a mer-man, mind you, because I'd never heard of such a creature, much to my parentals horror, and I was adamant that I would, some day, be a Mermaid, just like Ariel.

Being the loving parents they are, my folks saw no harm in nurturing my particular obsession, even going so far as to purchase me a copy of the original "The Little Mermaid" story, by Hans Christian Anderson (who shares my birthday, by the way) DON'T EVER DO THIS!!! I CANNOT stress this enough. Never give a child that adores the Disney romp a copy of the original text- it wont end well! Imagine my prepubescant horror to discover that Ariel does not, as I'd been led to believe, live a Happily Ever After with Eric, but instead, is given the option of KILLING him, after he buggers off and marries someone else, or letting herself die! And those feet the Sea Witch was so happy to let her have? Caused her excruciating pain on which to move. Despite this, SHE KEEPS FUCKING DANCING for the stupid Prince! And how does the whole thing end? She's dead. She turns into Sea Foam. That's it. It's utterly, utterly horrific, and I never really got over it. So, you know, be warned. Bastard Disney and their overly happy mermaid tales.

On a mostly unrelated note though, I'm in love with the Little Mermaid Broadway Cast. Not a single sea-foam related death to be seen- MUCH BETTER!

Week 20- Hogwarts Express

2009-06-17T17:49:00.008+10:00

Mission Twenty: Cast a Spell
Status: Accomplished

I have to admit, my expectations for this task involved slightly more mysticism than the task provided. Apparantly, when the extent of your knowledge on casting spells comes from either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter, your grip on reality is a little skewed, to say the least. But never mind- I soldiered on, and here are the results. After consulting an ancient Grimmorie (well, a "How to Cast Spells" book I found at work) I managed to find one that included red wine as a recipe. Could it BE any more suited to me?
Now, it just so happens that it was a love spell. I promise this was coincidence- I didn't set out to cast some bewitching love spell (besides, we've all seen how that ends in Buffy. Not well.) like a crazy desperate single person. TRUST ME.
I had to create a love oil first (which is less dirty than it sounds) which I let simmer in the slow cooker, which was LESS exciting than a cauldron may have been, but considerably more convenient, and once it was prepared, I had to annoint a love candle. Oh, I had to chant a bunch as well. I was going to show you the chants, but I can't find my spell anymore, but they were all things like Oil of love, enchanted be. Bring a perfect love to me. No latin to be heard at all, thank you very much JK Rowling...
So, I had to gather my ingredients:

The wine MAY have been started already by this stage... So then, the magic candle was lit, the ingredients were combined and put on the stove for seven minutes, all the while, I was chanting away, listening to No Good Deed Goes Unpunished from Wicked (you know, to set the mood). That's pretty much it. Magic spell cast. Oh, then I had to chant and drink the potion, once it had cooled down. Now, this is where the event got less charming. If only I could convey the stench of this thing via a blog to you, and there was a LOT of wine in there... Look, I'll show you. This is GENUINE magic potion.
This is me DRINKING genuine magic potion.

And this? This is me attempting to not VOMIT genuine magic potion all over the damn kitchen.

I never saw Willow do THAT! Now, the important question is, did it work? I'll keep you posted.

Talk about fail!

2009-06-17T17:42:00.002+10:00

Well. That haiku idea was less entertaining than I thought it was going to be. Honestly, what was I doing? Sometimes I think I share TOO much of the bizarre inner workings of my brain with you guys. No wonder people are put off by me- I'm batshit insane! Oh well- if I keep referring to it as eccentric charm for long enough, it will be bound to stick, right? Right? RIGHT???

Haiku-palooza

2009-06-10T09:11:00.002+10:00

Time for an update,
Completely done in haiku.
Why? Because I'm nuts.

I love word games though.
Always have and always will.
I'm just a big nerd.

So, what's on today?
Housework or Doctor Who.
I've not chosen yet.

Or maybe just this.
Sitting here, writing on this.
All for you, reader.

I hope you're happy.
I'm wasting a day for you.
You lucky devil.

I should mow my lawn.
It's looking like a jungle.
Grass higher than dog.

I guess it's good bye.
Until next time then, lovers.
Peace out and be good.

Here we go again...

2009-06-08T18:38:00.002+10:00

Another post devoted to me explaining why there haven't been any updates in a few days. Heard it all before, haven't we. But THIS time, I've got a really good excuse. Apart from the general, you know, real world going-ons that I need to devote a certain amount of time to each day, lately, I've found more and more of my waking hours are being devoured by the bitch-goddess that is the Nintendo Wii. Specifically, Rock Star.
Mikey has joined a Rock Band. (There IS pictorial evidence of this, but I'm still trying to get it on the computer) Well, two, if you want to get technical (Musician-Slut that I am).
I'm the lead drummer in "A Gayer Shade of Futchaa", although thanks to a ridiculously short space to enter band names, we're technically "A Gayer Shade of Fu". But that works as well...
It's SO MUCH FUN! It would help if I actually knew any of the songs (Apart from Dirty Little Secret) but I don't think I'm really the target demographic. Maybe if they released "Pop Band", or stuck some Cher on there or something, but whatevs. So I do apologise for my tardiness, but what can I say? The band takes up a lot of my time...

Week 19- Celluloid Heaven

2009-06-04T22:35:00.002+10:00

Mission Nineteen: Be in a film
Status: Accomplished

Oh yeah, baby! Mikey's a film star now! If by film, we mean a small, arty production done for a uni art student, and by star, we mean one of 16 people dressed in identical outfits and dying on camera, then sure. Mikey's a film star! I answered a call from a friend to go take part in a shoot, and here we are! I was required to put on a white Hazmat suit, mill about a VERY small space, get covered in blood, and die. Not bad for a mornings work, I say!

Obviously I'll post a link to the youtube video as soon as it's uploaded, but I understand the director needs a chance to edit it or whatever, so that could be a week or so away. I MAY have been the only person in a hazmat with a blonde fringe clearly visible, but, you know, it's personal touches like that which are going to make me a star. If anyone would like an autograph, be sure to let me know! Another ridiculously fun task.

Subtlety is an art form

2009-06-04T21:18:00.002+10:00

And claiming the prize for "Strangest Customer" this week is the gentleman that called me up looking for a copy of the Karma Sutra. The conversation was as follows:

Customer: Do you have a copy of the karma sutra?
Mikey: Why yes, we have several, sir.
Customer: Several? Really? Tell me about them!
Mikey: Well, there's the traditionally illustrated version, there's the photographic version, there's the pop-up edition, there's the... look, maybe you should just come in and have a look?
Customer: No, no. I'm sure the photo one is fine. Can you mail it out to me?
Mikey: Yeah, sure.
Customer: Express Post?
Mikey: Well...sure.
Customer: So I'll have it tomorrow? Like, DEFINITELY?
Mikey: ...

My question is, why does someone need a book like that with SUCH ridiculous urgency? Is he planning a marathon sex session tomorrow night that is going to require the assistance of a manual? And if it's so important, would you REALLY trust the homosexual at the bookshop to pick you out one that's going to do the job?

So anyway- he wins. Weirdo.

Adventures in Literacy!

2009-06-01T17:18:00.002+10:00

I like to read. A lot. People that know me know this. And working in a bookshop, I tend to do it a great deal. So, what have I been reading lately? I'll show you.

JUST READ:

Running With Scissors: Augusten Burroughs

I'd always heard good things about this, but avoided it on the basis that I thought it was just going to be another "misery porn" memoir, but a recent decision to dip my toe back into the Angus & Robertson Top 100 list led me to finally pick it up. Holy crap. I could NOT have been more wrong. It was great! And not at all miserable and whiny, like I feared. Augusten Burroughs has one of those fantastic literary voices that just makes reading their stuff a pleasure, and his sense of humour is fantastic. There was one chapter that literally made me dry heave (I'm sure anyone that's read it can guess what it was...) but apart from that, I couldn't have enjoyed it more. Jesus though- talk about a bullshit upbringing. Those Finches be crazy. I'd love to know a bit more about the story behind the memoirs though, especially in regards to a revelation in the final chapter that I'd love to see followed up on. I suppose I will, when I check out his other stuff. I think I'm a fan now.

READING NOW:

The Gargoyle: Andrew Davidson

This one has been trying to seduce me for ages at work. I'm not sure what it is about it, but it just sounds like it's going to be a great read. Now, I'm only a little way in (by which, I mean, like, 20 pages) and it's still finding its feet, but it's way too early to pass any sort of judgement yet. An extraordinary debut novel of love that survives the fires of hell and transcends the boundaries of time. How great does THAT sound? I'll keep you posted...

READING NEXT:

This one has been on my "to read" list for ages. I mean, damn. It's pretty much considered one of the greatest accomplishments of the English language. So that sounds a bit fancy, right? I managed to buy a copy today, and I can't WAIT to get stuck into it. Assuming I ever actually DO, and it's not like the countless OTHER books that I've purchased on the basis of literary merit and never gotten around to reading. Like Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Once and Future King, The Prince, Moby Dick, The Lost World or The Complete Sherlock Holmes. My bookshelf makes me look a lot more well-read than I actually am...