Mine And Monica's US Election Prediction

For some time now Monica and I have banged on about what we think will happen in the US in November. I am writing this now so when it eventuates you will think I am Nostradamus. Frankly I'm not I am just looking at the past to predict the future. I believe that there is a good chance that Obama will be voted in. If he is and that part of the prediction I am unsure of but if he is then I have no doubt some nutter will cap him, blow him up or just plain take him out. He will be assassinated for sure. The reason I think this is given the US's history with racial tension and assassination of prominent leaders in the past it almost seems like a sure thing. I really don't think the US could handle a black leader, they are way to worried about more trivial matters like who is sleeping with who and who wasnt than to rise above their own racial shit. Strangely by suggesting such a drastic outcome such as an assassination I could be accused of being racist, but that would only be an accusation from someone who is living in a dream world. Unfortunately we are not and the US despite its great feats in many areas has some serious nutters running about the joint.

It's Rozie

Yes and I won't ever mention a Toto title ever again. I promise.

I slept with James Blunt then he dumped me!!!!!

You know I am not referring to myself in the title. It was however the title of a great little article in that old Sydney rag "The Daily Telegraph" or more precisely "The Sunday Telegraph" today. Some poor 19 year old "model" went to a James Blunt concert, whilst she bobbed about up the front, he spotted her, she got the tap to go back stage and the rest is history. The moral of the story is a good groupie doesn't bother to run to the papers when they find out that "ye old rock n roller" has ditched them for another piece of skirt. I mean did she really expect to become Priscilla Presley the 2nd coming. Of course the story did rise a dry smile from me. Silly twat that she was no doubt thought her model Esq looks and lack of talent may encourage him to dedicate his next album to her. Its possible in the future she may look back on this experience and running to the rags as a big mistake, Or maybe she wont think much past next week. Still call me old fashioned but what people will do to get some amount of fame these days is intolerable. And if she wants to see exactly what it takes to be a rock groupie here is some advise on how to get back stage from Pink Floyd's The Wall;

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=jwLcti9wpyY

And if you do get backstage with the rock n roller here is what happens next; Beware artistic types who are prone to drug induced tantrums;

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=hmwUIgLzVEE&feature=related

You have been warned.

Hush Puppies: My Decline Into Fashionata Hell

Today I had a moment to go and try and find myself a pair of new shoes that I am desperately in need of. I even thought I might pick up multiple pairs if a few took my fancy. Many years ago I would never ever even half contemplated getting anything other than a pair of six to eight inch heeled shoes. I worked in heels, I went out in heels and I swore to never give in to any pesky feet complaints. It didn't take much over the age of 30 to convince my aching feet that a pair of well proportioned smaller court heels may have been more appropriate. Still I refused to budge. Till I slipped my tootsies into a pair of well fitted soft leather Hush Puppies. Whilst in some kind of fashion coma I secretly purchased them and would mince around at home with them on promising to never leave the confines of my front gate. But of course they begged to be taken to the shops, then further afield and eventually I was wearing them to work and other social gatherings. Of course I still wore ridiculous heels where I could but I longed for the comfort and undeniable walking pleasure of the Hush Puppy. So today I ventured into a shoe megastore with hundreds of pairs of shoes all lined up and ready for the taking. I tried lots of very ridiculous high heels, then headed to the Hush Puppy section. Thankfully they didn't have my size and I walked away with a breath of dignity intact, I had avoided the lure and appeal of the Hush Puppy. Whilst I know with what I have just confessed this next statement will seem like an outright lie but I totally and completely draw the line at "The Croc". Under no circumstances unless you are a fishermen should you ever be caught dead in them. Ever. The type of people who wear them with socks should be rounded up with those who put frangapani's on their car's and taken to a very very far off distant planet and expelled from our society. So one last time for the dummies, they are fucken fishing shoes people.

Marilyn - "Your so pretty oh so pretty - Vacant"

Like a road accident you just have to turn around and look at I recently got the song "Calling Your Name" by Marilyn into my head courtesy of my friend Rosanna's blog because she had listed tracks she played while deejaying recently at a party. So I You Tubed it.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=NRT4-LoQ2XM

then of course I started watching videos of interviews with Marilyn and Boy George and frankly I then spent more time than necessary and finally watched a five part documentary

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=m_-pR9fowzE with a barely recognizable Marilyn who now lives with his mother as a hermit in London. Oh and he sure ain't so pretty these days. Its a pity because I loved the whole Steve Strange, Boy George and Marilyn New Romantic thing. It was fantastic, and the next opportunity I get I'm going to wear my makeup a la Boy George, if it kills me. I have no doubt Steve Strange would never have let me in to the Blitz, but fuck him because I stood next to Leigh Bowery at the Freezer in London so there. I loved Leigh the most, he was absolutely the best thing ever I always think of his line "Wear it like your life depends on it" and that is how I sometimes walk out of the house dolled up because I wonder what Leigh would think of me being a "normal", I think he would be horrified. So there is no doubt after watching this doco that I will definitely use Steve Strange's line "All the right people are here" at some party in the near future. If I ever get invited to one again.

Ever Noticed Humphreys Hernia

Today I caught a glimpse of that fun lovin bear Humphrey, as in Humphrey B Bear. He is on at the stupid time of 3:30pm when most toddlers worth their salt are having a cat nap. Probably a good thing since he still isn't wearing any pants and frankly I think he is in dire need of medical attention since he has to my untrained medical eye what looks like a gigantic hernia. Poor old Humphrey I guess he really is a funny OLD fellow. What with being mute after all these years you would think he has heard enough nursery rhymes to make him want to scream, at least the word fuck once in his life. I mean he is meant to get "in all matter of strife" Still I live in hope.

Dreaming Of Me

I know, I know, if you don't listen to DM then you don't understand my title. In any case whatever. Yes its true I have done two infamous rocker boys at once. Bon and Keith. Amazing that I would probably have towered over them in "real" life and been able to snap them like a chicken since I get the impression they were tiny. Still they weren't too tiny in my dreams. Its also interesting to note both met a rather un rocker like ending, choking on ones own vomit. Or perhaps that is rocker in any case its not a nice way to end your days. Still it would seem most of the rich and famous bar those who die in aircraft accidents tend to go out in a rather "common" manner, take for instance my favorite celebrity death on this point which is Princess Diana. She had what most commoners could only dream of but she ended dying in a most common way, a car accident. Whether you take out the chasing paparazzi or the pissed driver just about everyone in the western world could be killed in the same way. However I digress, yes Keith and Bon are doing well, and send their greetings. I guess I love Keith because like all The Who tales they may be just that tales. My favorite being he once ordered 100's of cakes to be delivered to his hotel suite. Apparently it was his birthday. Upon arrival of the cakes he cleared the furniture out of the room then proceeded to load the cakes up onto one solitary table he had left in the suite. He then proceeded to call everyone he knew to come over. Once the party attendees gathered he then called a massive cake throwing fight. It is said he jumped up on the table to take aim at as many guests as he could, slipping and falling heavily breaking some part of his body and chipping a tooth. True to form he continued on anyway. On my 40th birthday I intend to do the same thing. I also intend to do it at a Holiday Inn an entire hotel chain in which The Who were banned for life. When they come to turf me to the street I intend to tell them "Keith sent me"

I Slept With Keith Moon And Bon Scott Again Lastnight

I will elaborate more tomorrow when I have time, suffice to say my dreams are pretty insane. And its not the first time I have slept with both of these guys, at once I might add. Nasty Huh?

The Lynda Wolstenholme Strikes Again

A little while ago I mentioned to you the girl in my University class who reminded me of a girl in my highschool Home Economics class. If you didn't read that post here is a re-cap. Always on time, always eager and ready to shoot that hand in the air and wave at the teacher like she just don't care. Generally with long laborious questions which are really really futile and at times bordering on 5th class stuff. Well tonight she excelled herself on the stupid "o" meter. In fact I wanted to piss myself but it may have run down my leg like a torrent and caused me no end of bother since this happened at the start of the night.

The lecturer began our class tonight discussing the different types of ways in which adults learn. There is one group who easily digest subject matter when discussed in group work, better known as a tutorial type situation, whilst others who loath talking to the others in class and would rather focus on the lecturer for a whole two hours, take notes and go home and digest the information in their own way. No sooner had the lecturer began her explanation of these two very distinct types of learning that adults tend to gravitate toward in one form or another than my Lynda Wolstenholme shot that arm up into the air. The lecturer who has obviously become frustrated with her continued questioning on everything quickly nodded in her direction and said "Wait a minute for questions" perhaps like me she was hoping old LW would have her question answered by the time she had finished what she had to say on the topic. No such luck. LW waited till the lecturer had time to pause and shot that arm straight back up.

Her question was, "So what are you if you are somewhere in the middle of these two types of learning". The lecturer waited a moment, smiled and retorted "Uhh then you are someone who is somewhere in the middle of these two types of learning". Frankly at that point I wanted to chortle loudly, fortunately I didn't because I feel there would have been no stopping a snort kick back.

My Little Festiva Did Bathurst

In 1996, I was young and had no idea about loans, owing money or cars, not necessarily in that order. So one day whilst sitting on a non air conditioned, filthy, late commuter train crammed next to someone who smelt like piss and another who thought they were Jesus Christ and mumbling about setting themselves alight I decided it was high time I got a car. So I made one phone call to my old man who told me to get something small, economical and of course a Ford.

So I trotted off to City Ford because they said "Yes More Often" and of course I skidded out in debt with a brand new $18,000 motor vehicle without power steering because it would have been an extra $2,000 and I didnt think I needed it. That power steering decision is one of the few life decisions I deeply regret. It would have saved me such anguish and back pain when trying to park the thing and an awful amount of swearing would not have happened on my part had it been installed. People would be shocked at how heavy the steering was in such a tin can.

As far as spec's are concerned, the festie never got over 60km per hour, but could burn the highway at 100km per hour any more than that and the thing shook like the space shuttle taking off. Generally I could plant my foot to the floor and literally go know here. If you lent into any of the panels or slammed the door with your hand to hard you were off to the panel beaters with a nasty dent. Apart from these set backs the air conditioning was fantastic in summer when it would spit little bits of ice out of the air vents from time to time and in winter it would get so hot I would have to roll open a window. Note I say roll down a window, nothing was power, not the locks or the windows or the fucking steering. Still I loved that car, it gave me more than ten years driving pleasure especially being a two door when you would pick up a passenger and they would always crack their head bending into the back seat, no matter how many times you yelled "Watch your head". It certainly was a good dickhead test, if they cracked their head then you knew they weren't much in the brains department, probably because half of them were left on the top door frame.

So with the annual Bathurst car race on last weekend my old man and I discussed the In's and outs of the race track. I told him I had toured the festie round the track at one stage and how she had faired. Poorly. Going up the straight no problem, heading up the hill, flat to the floor and revving like a demon, coming down the dipper I thought both myself and the car would shit ourselves and then returning to the start and seeing a ten year old on foot lap us. Nice huh. Still the Festie is now a distant memory with it being superseded by the Subaru which in a nutshell is fucking brilliant. The downside to seeing the Festie go was the fact I lost $100 cash out the deal.

You see dear reader I had a secret magnet under the front bumper bar with an emergency stash of money and house and car keys for times when I would lock myself out of either the car or house or both. Believe me I had to replace the $100 plenty of times because I had fallen foul of something or another and I cannot count how many times I slid under the car to get my secret key out because I had locked mine in the car. Whose the dickhead now huh? So it wasn't until many months after the car was gone that I woke one night at 3am to the disturbing memory reminder that I had left the secret magnet with my secret $100 cash in it. FUCK is all I could say. So if you see a claret coloured Ford Festiva number plate QNW-286 then there is 100 smackers under the bumper and oh how I check every claret coloured Festiva now in the hope it will yield my lost cash.

Note: If you look closely at the photo you will see a very expensive wooden racing steering wheel. This was compliments of a friend who felt the car needed jazzing up, I use the word jazzing in refusal to say the word pimping because it shits me. In any case it got a lot of people laughing but it was quite nice to the touch. And for those of you who are really car smart you will notice the Mazda hub caps, these were thanks to a friend who would knock them off from Mazda for me where he worked because I constantly used my hub caps as a way to monitor when I was going to hit a curb when parking. On one occasion whilst waiting in traffic on King Street a young boy about 6 or 7 stopped and started yelling to the whole street about the fact I had Mazda hub caps on a Ford Festiva. Thankfully people didn't question why but where more amazed at how he would know such a car detail so young.

DM Husband or What Goes On Tour, Stay's On Tour

In December 2005 myself and the "other" Jodie, no not one of my other personalities but my friend Jodie R, went on a little trip to New York to see Depeche Mode. The "other" Jodie had no idea who Depeche Mode were, in fact she was dragged to the U.S by my good self because nobody else could either afford to go or be bothered to watch me fall about the place screaming and crying through an entire concert, in fact she actually put up with screaming and crying through two concerts on consecutive nights at Madison Square Garden. She was a trooper throughout the process and I think I may have ended up converting her, but I won't bet on it, mind you she did end up knowing plenty of lyrics of DM's back catalogue by the time we were done. As I wasn't expecting anyone to come with me, since I have travelled to see them in the past overseas on my own I got on the DMMB (Depeche Mode Message Board) in order to talk to other fans who were going to the concerts as I have done previously so I could meet up with other like minded others either before or after the shows. As Jodie was on board to come I kind of thought it wasn't as important to meet anyone. Still a time, club and date were set for anyone wanting to meet up from the nerd board in NY on the evening of the first concert. I was skeptical, generally the people who get on the nerd box are just that, ugly nerds with no life. I had cause to worry since I went over to L.A in 2003 to see Dave Gahan's solo tour and after one of the shows went to a Hollywood 80's club trying to find the nerd herd. I didn't end up meeting anyone I wanted to stand chatting with for more than four seconds so I was forced to dance around my own hand bag and get my own drinks, then return to my own lonely little hotel room and dream of Dave, then do it all again for two more nights. So on this occasion in N.Y I thought we would drop in, check the crowd out from afar and then split. Strangely U.S crowds for DM are peculiar in the fact they are just "normal" everyday Americans who happen to be into DM, unlike German fans who are known as the "Black Swarm" due to their perchanent for wearing the goth uniform. So we rocked up to the venue, sauntered in, and I met my DM Husband. He is a shockingly good looking Scottish lad who has a resemblance to Dave, always a winner for me and had a fabulous accent and a cute brother to boot and they both wore skirts. Could it have got any better. From that point on we connected on a DM level and we also partied like it was 1999. Jodie and I had the time of our lives and we danced, sung and swung our hand bags around like lunatics. After we returned home I kept contact with my find of a skirt wearing man for many a reason not least of which "easy entry point due to skirt" and have had a great online typing relationship ever since. Needless to say we will be hooking up again. Strangely if I wasnt already married I would be very much trying to impress this man with as much charm as I could muster and if that failed of course I would stick to old faithful, flash me tits, it's an oldie but a goodie.

DM That's Depeche Mode not Danger Mouse To Tour

Found out of my DM Husband about the Berlin press conference for DM's announcement of a tour, and new album plus a new signed deal with EMI, needless to say I am wetting my pants over the whole thing. Will post more tonight. Bloody hell am I excited.

Under The Blue Moon Festival

The festival for Under The Blue Moon was on Saturday. You missed it. I was sceptical that this year would be low on numbers due to the long weekend, sporting adventures and Sleaze Ball all being on the same weekend but there was still a decent roll up of Goth kids. I was tempted to go and buy a tee-shirt I recently saw with the words "Cheer up Emo Kid" on the front but I thought they may not understand my humour. Instead I got Peter to squeeze me into my corset and fabbie outfit that I paid a fortune for a few years ago and off I went to give my lecture. Peter accompanied me and we must have looked good because we had quite a few strangers come up and take photos of us. Though I was not in the mood to even have a photo taken but I obliged, and due to my old age crankiness on the day I didn't bother to take a photo of what we looked like. Don't know why, I just didn't feel like it. Frankly I felt like a thick pork sausage tied up in the middle. One pierce and I would have oozed fat all over the joint. I love being corsetted but for the first half of the afternoon I was just miffed for no known reason at all, and don't even get me started on the whole adventure of not being able to breath. We ventured down to see the fantastic orator Professor Wansborough speak about Life and Death and as usual he was profound. Unfortunately for him he was located in a new venue, set aside just for his lecture and I don't think it brought the crowds in. My usual venue for the past three years was Simplicity Funerals and when I arrived after listening to the Professor it was packed for the speaker before me who was talking about death rituals. The kids then stayed on for my drivel and appeared to be interested, god love them. I have to say I really enjoyed it and I think they really enjoyed the subject matter as much as I do. I love talking about the Razor Gangs of Sydney in the 1920's and 1930's I know it blows the kids away because they think we have no interesting history but the fact is we do. It's such a shame they can't teach interesting stuff to kids at school, if they did then I have no doubt people would walk away with an education. In any case it was a great afternoon and it was topped off by walking home my beautiful daughter the length of Enmore Road dressed in her hot pink tu tu and matching jacket. She was adored by many and I beamed with pride.