Christmas Overhaul

I am moving my blog very very soon. The main reason is when I post a long blog rant or load of old shit the settings change and I can not edit things as I want them edited. Meaning it looks as though I write one long line of crap and don't have any idea of a paragraph or a sentence. So in order to save myself from further errors I am in the process of change. Over the Christmas period I am getting nerd help to set up my website/social networking and Gen Y shit. I know it flies in the face of my ranting about the species known as Gen Y but if you can't beat them join them.

Holy Fuck You Go Bob!

A Triumph Finally! For many many years I have waited for the day when I would see Bob Triumph against an Australian audience, ungrateful, wicked bastards that we are. Well the wait is over as it has finally happened and not before long I might add, it only took around twenty fucking years or so.

I was initially concerned about the venue choice, Star City Casino? Was the show doomed to be cancelled when ticket sales slumped which has happened to Bob in the past when promoters obviously bite off more than they can chew and try to book a venue that will not be filled. Sorry Bob I have been to every show you have done in Sydney, bar any pre 1985 when I was too young, including seeing you at the "Three Weeds" pub in the early 90's when it was a case of play a pub or play in someones lounge room. So I kind of like the small atmosphere with myself and the three other fans who come along, but hey at least we come, okay maybe it is four but I am guessing the total number is around 3.

So it was a big surprise when I realised that holy fuck this show would go ahead. Now Bob's last tour at the Enmore Theatre was the same deal only the fact that the entire place had the blackout treatment so as not to allude to the fact that yet again only myself and the other three/four had showed up.

So Friday evening was the big night and all was going array. Tamara was running late, I was in a fluster and Frank wanted to sit outside the venue and slowly sip Australian wine as if we had all the time in the world even though we had been warned the doors would be locked at 8pm with no exceptions which would leave me out in the cold with my ear pressed up against a door in order to hear my beloved. Joy!

Okay so earlier we had managed to organise a seat swap with the tickets we had indeed paid for. Yes Bob we could have scammed free industry tickets but instead we paid for your show because I love you and don't want to rip you off. So after an approach to the box office to purchase an extra ticket for Frank the lovely counter girl swapped our seats for unclaimed comps which were for the second row.

You see I thought my purchased tickets were front row. Turns out I was wrong. Foolish me thought row A was front row but it was in fact the fourth row, that is fourth after AA, BB, CC, DD, ahhhh okay, stop making sense. The poor pet behind the counter saw my angst at this news and helped me immediately with the comps. The fact is we could have walked up flashed a press pass and bang front fucking row whilst the three "real" fans, one of which just happens to be me, sit row 4 whilst the industry fucks and freebie arse lickers don't show up, as usual, which = empty seats and three very cranky fans. Not your fault Bob just the juggernaut that rolls along behind the artists back therefore proving again that its not what you know its who you know. Of course I know all too well after many years of concert going and music industry hoopla so I shouldn't act like I don't but whether its U2, Gorillaz or Englebert Humperdick a fan is a fan and they should garner some respect as with the artist them self who I have no doubt are left unaware of their fans plight.

So in order to get in the venue we convince Frank to "skull, skull, skull, skull" his wine, which he does with an incredible lack of speed and then rush to catch the lift down to the venue entrance. In the lift, and full of beans, or shit as is usually the case I ask a rather elderly, okay okay one step out of the grave couple what show they are seeing tonight, assuming they are going to see something else. Transcript;

Me: Excuse me which show are you seeing tonight? (Voice in my head, "Wow, this really is "morbid" curiosity, literally morbid, get a load of these two they may well croak and die right here in this lift"!)

Mature Lady: Ahhhhh, who are we seeing dear???

Mature Male: Ahhhhhhhhh, ummmmmm, sorry what was that?

Mature Lady: Ahhhh, ummm, what show are we seeing dear? (loudly)

Mature Male: (Checking ticket), ummm Bob, Bob, Bob, Gerldorhfe.

Mature Lady: Ummmm, errrrr, errrr, Bob, Bob, ummmm Bob yes Bob, yesss yessss he's called Bob.

Me: You do realise he is a punk rocker and WILL NOT be talking politics. You do realise he is a musician and all the other stuff is other stuff and tonight will be about his MUSIC. (Voice in head and then later to Tamara, "They don't realise that he is going to say the word fuck, sex, politics, religion and possibly Bono all in one sentence do they"? Holy crap the audience will walk out en mass.

Me: Umm you purchased tickets to tonight's show? (Voice in head "Bet they got the tickets for free when the purchased the two for one buffet on pension day and thought, well at least its a night out")

Them: Yes

Me: (Voice In Head; "Holy fuck, you go Bob!")

So I was worried for Bob, really really worried especially after a quick scan of the now almost packed theatre, damn near 2000 seats, and filled, Holy fuck you go Bob!

Okay okay so they don't know any other song other than "Do They Know It's Christmas" and they also wont know that if you play it myself and the other three fans okay okay four fans will get the humph and walk out if you do. So you are really - bloody hell I can't believe I am going to say this - "showcasing" yourself here, with the possibility of picking up a few new fans who in the past have never shown up before tonight. Holy fuck you go Bob!.

So out Bob comes, myself and the other three, alright four fans clap wildly whilst the rest of the audience don't realise its you because they don't know who you are until you step up to the microphone and into the spotlight which allows them to recognise you, they then clap, politely, albeit with trepidation.

Bang! Music! Bang! Rock and Roll! Bang! Holy fuck you go Bob!

After a few songs Bob concurs to inform his audience that he is suffering from a lurgy, but is going to press on despite the fact. He also admits that he is used to an Australian audience giving him shit on all matters, though this time they don't, he presses on.

Note to Bob: (There is one reason Australian audience's in the past gave you any grief and this is due to the fact that those fuckers doing it are not fans and haven't paid to see you. For example during your last tour when you performed at the Enmore Theatre all I noticed were a bunch of Gen Y comp ticket holders who seemed to be friends of friends of someone who thought they knew someone from the Daily Telegraph. So to me most of them only appeared to be at the show so they could be the first to tweet to the world that Bob Geldof flew into a rage and called Russell Brand a "talentless" cunt. So disappointed that they may go home empty handed they threw caution to the wind and began to heckle or for those more inventive who can type with a fucking thumb - spend the entire show texting their friends, the ignorant fucks that they are.)

So of course I am biased as you know but I think Bob is brilliant, I love his music and I am not afraid to say it and have done for years. I think his left handed wizardry of the guitar is not only bizarre as he has a right handed guitar but interesting to watch and of course when I am not watching that I am watching the fact that Bob does not believe in the institution of the under pant. Holy fuck you go Bob!

So we three/four fans got all the hits including, A sex thing, Room 19, Mary of the 4th form, Rat Trap, Banana Republic and the ye olde Don't like Monday's standard and then some, meaning more songs which was great.

So despite the fact that Bob was clearly struggling due to illness he didn't disappoint. He sang his little heart out, and his voice out and he as usual up staged his good friend Bono by wearing an actual colour on stage, albeit to use his words a"baby shit green" colour it was a colour and those seated in row x would have been able to see him even if they didn't know who the fuck he was.

Note From Me via Bob to Bono: Please wear white! When was the last stadium show you went to? Those up the back find it difficult to see one when one is dressed as the same colour as the fucking speakers. I know it is a difficult colour to pull off, white that is, but perhaps one could employ someone who can make one a pair of slacks which holds you in at all the right places, also join Bob's institute of the no under pant club, chicks dig it? Its just a tip!

So the show went off. I can say this with a great deal of certainty as the elderly Asian couple I noticed seated in the row behind me, (note photo above), before the show started were the litmus test as far as I was concerned. I shot them a glance before the show and they appeared to have no idea whom they were seeing and didn't strike me as rock show types but by the last song they were standing and damn near screaming a lung for more.

Holy Fuck You Go Bob!

"You Will Need To Wear Them In!"

Finally purchased Dr. Martens classic shoes in black with yellow stitching. Turns out I am not so old after all and if I had just walked a few hundred meters out of my front door then perhaps I would have found what I was looking for. Just to make me feel young the Gen Y who sold them to me reminded me as I trotted out the door "Remember you need to wear them in, K" "Okay" I replied acting as if I had never seen a pair before in my life. I wanted to say "They invented the band aid in response to the blisters that would form on my poor aching feet due to Dr. Martens in the mid to late 80's" If only she knew huh!, perhaps I was looking particularly young or perhaps she was just doing me a favour but it was nice to be Gen Y for a few seconds although I doubt I faked it well enough I wasn't texting at the time and actually held eye contact so I guess she would have guessed I was an X but then that ain't hard.

Dr. Martens

May not have to wait to get said shoes in the motherland. Have possibly found some in home town, hoorah!

I Will Clean Up My Act! Maybe!

I have just re-read some of my posts, god I suck at grammar/grammer/grammor. My defence is that I am usually half asleep when bashing out a blog or very very cross about what I am writing about and hence the passion seeps in and the grammar/grammer/grammor and spelling (spl) slip out the door and down the road for a well earned drink. So if I don't make sense then go read Wikkileaks kause I carn't spel K.

There Is Only One Thing That Unites Us!

All I Want For Christmas!

Is to never ever have to hear "All I want for Christmas" by Mariah Carey, ever ever again! Thank you Santa, I really don't think this is asking for too much I could be asking for the abolition of poverty but no just a simple easy request, vanquish that song immediately!

"It's Not About Who You Are Now Darling! Its About Who You Once Were!"

Oh yes these are the words that are ringing in thine ears at the moment. "Its not about who you are now Darling, Its about who you once were". Yes that is so true, so very true. So this afternoon and well into the early evening I spent reminiscing with the lovely Vittorio of the Piccolo Bar something I haven't done in a long time, he loves to chat as much as I do and if it not for the fact that we are getting older and the darkness was looming we probably would have talked all night, which is something I "used" to do with Vittorio, talk to him at 4am after I had finished work. So today we talked and talked and talked but in the end that is all it was just talk and as Vittorio so rightly pointed out it was all "bullshit" and don't I know how to do that, in spades. I used to feel relevant to the times, like I knew what was in and what was cool and underground, now of course I sometimes feel like I have been dropped into another era and I want the merry go round to drop me off please. I believe I am futuristic in my believes but I believe that I also truly value the past and who paved the streets with gold and as we both pointed out Lady Ga Ga would not know Lindsay Kemp if he walked up and did a Poiret in front of the poor girl thus proving Gen Y's intolerance of the past. So I don't want to be too down on the younger ones but we certainly did have some fabulous times and walking along the clean sterile streets of a town which I used to call my own was difficult, it was too clean, too perfect and I felt really irrelevant. I used to say Sydney don't go changin but sometimes I feel like an Englishman in New York literally in my own town, you know "I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien" Well perhaps the lame old Sting was onto something. Thankfully after feeling this wistful about my home town I then drove past the Enmore and Blondie and The Pretenders were playing, now if ever there were a truer line spoken tonight it is "Its not about who you are now darling, its about who you once were" so Vittorio perhaps we are relevant still because nor a more profound sentence could be uttered with those two treading the boards even if it were written in Lady Ga Ga's blood. So perhaps there is still old school relevance but don't bother trying to buy a pair of old school Dr. Marten's lace up black shoes with yellow stitching because this town no longer sells them, anywhere!. So London I will be back baby because and soon because Dr. Marten's are possibly still the one thing that unites us, or maybe not!........

Bob Bob Bobbing Along!

I just knew Bob would be in Sydney in time for me to see him. He is my Christmas present all wrapped up in a big bow of having to deal with Star City Casino. Yes I can finally have it out with Mr. Geldof in regards to his selling out on the expensive watch front. Oh yes and I will have a word to him about it I might add. The sister and I are pushing for an interview, on this occasion she will interview and I will sit in stunned silence whilst trying not to shit myself not unlike other times in front of front men. Speaking of front we are row A of course, scored excellent seats yet again, that is because I am only competing with his daughters and I guess a few old Sydney friends he may scounge up for a vantage point. No doubt the door list will be huge - again!, wonder if I will have to sit next to Bono, again!, possibly not but it would also be nice to have a word in his ear about wearing black to outdoor stadium gigs and no doubt he will listen to what I have to say if only to have something else to drown out Bob's singing. So Bob get ready because I am on my way.

She's Got The Look

It is hard to believe that anything good could have ever come of the song "She's Got The Look"
by that terrible band of the 80's "Roxette" but it did. Above in the middle is Khyanna attending her recent Year 10 formal and the reason I believe she is alive today is due in part to me and unfortunately that crap song would be part of her DNA. You see many moons ago probably about three years before Khyanna was born I was asked to go to a party which was being held in a part of town that I ordinarily would never have gone within a five kilometer radius of. I was not from there and I didn't want to go there. For reasons which still remain hazy, no doubt I was chasing boy action at the time I somehow agreed to go to this said party which incidentally was being held on a Saturday afternoon, yes that is right afternoon. I was not privy to the afternoon party set as I was used to getting up to go out at about 10pm and shutting the front door behind me to leave at 12pm so an afternoon party just threw me, so did how I was going to get to the party without a car.

So I called and persuaded my friend Claudia to come along and she agreed to go, no doubt hoping to chase boy action as well. So we arrived at the party only to find I didn't even know the person having the party and most of its attendees were particularly low brow. Everyone was out in the back yard and we headed out there to the thunderous sound of Roxettes, She's Got The Look. I cringed as I heard it but hoped things might improve. They didn't. We got out the back and I scanned the local boy talent and came to the quick conclusion that umm yeah let's leave. Unfortunately Claudia had spotted some potential and we stayed. We stayed through a few hours of hearing Roxette's She's Got The Look on repeat, yes that is right repeat. You see dear reader the girl having the party only had one record a 7" of you guessed it, Roxette's She's Got The Look she also had an old record player that sent the arm back to the start of the record once it had finished playing so you could hear it again and again and again, and didn't we just, almost to the point of self harm. I sat there unamused hoping for something to happen so as to take my mind off homicide and then the storm broke and the sun came shining down. The girls father arrived home from work and found a whole bunch of disgruntled teens in his yard having a party that he was unaware of and demanded we leave immediately. Thank fuck I couldn't have been happier. I skidded out the door and ran as fast as I could fearing my life would be irrevocably damaged due to being subjected to such bad taste in music for such a long period of time without respite. So the party then convened to a local park, minus the record player but still surrounded by the dull guests. I called for a back up plan so I could get home and I left Claudia to her own devices as she had clearly met someone she connected with and wanted to spend more time getting to know him. So I hitched my pony and split in case my ears started to bleed in public. I recall a few weeks later I saw Claudia holding hands with said young lad at the shops and I thought well at least we hadn't completely wasted an afternoon going to a crap party on the wrong side of town with people we had never met before nor would again. So in conclusion Claudia ended up having a child with the man she met that afternoon, her name is Khyanna, and without doubt, She Has The Look. Khyanna is stunning and I am glad that I agreed to go to that party if I hadn't then I believe she would not even exist, strange how life gives back and a chain of events can lead to a life changing alteration, so to Roxette, here's to you!, I guess the universe owes you one, Cheers!.

Darlinghurst Eats It's Young

Yes that is right Darlinghurst does. There has been a new addition to the "80's Are Back" exhibition at the Powerhouse. A new art exhibit has been recognised and the result was a link to the website and blog via the Powerhouse's website. I loved looking at the photos and ended up knowing a few subject matters, Felicity being one. I can recall a great night at Luna Park with Felicity. I have no idea what we were doing there or why but I do recall her and Mon spinning wildly on the Rotor. Of course it all ended in tears when Mon ended up getting off and spewing a rather weird candy pink colour. The spew was in fact almost 100% pure fairy floss. Fun times, fun times. So check out the photos and the website my favorite is the picture of the international terminal at Sydney airport. Seriously no wonder nobody came to Sydney you would get out see that then run back to get back on your plane to somewhere a little more cultured or should that be kultured? At least David Bowie got the joke and loved Australia in the 80's. Oh and the Luna Park trip didn't occur till the 90's before then it was a closed ghost town.

New Addition To My Resume!

The other day whilst going through the ten items or less aisle in the grocery store I had my hands full and couldn't go through my favorite self serve check out. I got to talking to the Gen Y behind the counter. I told her I loved the self service check out even though it could possibly be the demise of the 'check out chick' forever. The Gen Y assured me this would never be the case and I assured her this was a good thing on many levels not least the fact that a job is always a good thing when you are short on cash and young. Gen Y then suggested that if I love doing the self serve check out that I should list this as a skill on my resume. So there you have it I can now add, 'cashier' to my many talents even without an employer it doesn't appear to matter. I of course was hesitant to ask if this is how she had obtained her current employment, I have had enough run in's with Gen Y this year best to leave it up to my own burgeoning imagination.

Stay Tuned For Posts A Plenty

I ran out of bandwidth due to downloading too much. So now I can get back to blogging and stop watching porn.

A Fantastic Interlude to Life

Went out with friends to my favorite Japanese restaurant, went to the rest rooms and had the following exchange with a Gen Y.

(Whilst seated in the lavatory the lovely young lady in the receptacle beside me could be heard vomiting, later whilst washing my hands I spotted said young lady also washing her hands next to me the following exchange took place)

Me: Bad Night?

Her: Yes

Me: Feeling ill you poor pet?

Her: Yes

Me: Oh

Her: Yeah but it like shits me when people like don't tell you what you are like eating as a joke!

Me: Raw Fish?

Her: Like yeah its like totally not funny at all!

Me: A Ha...

Me: (In my head) The rather large sign out the front of the place in neon lights with the words JAPANESE didnt give you a hint, Oh Fuck what unleashed hell have we got on our hands with the under 25 set when they dont know JAPANESE = RAW FISH!

Please Read Old Post From Friday Regarding Ye Olde Flatmates!

I wrote a post on Friday which I edited and therefore you need to step back in time to read it, actually you just need to scroll down to the new post - My Old Flatmates, blah blah blah, read it you might like it. Feel free to heckle, you know you want to.

The Coyote on Scrapbooking

Seriously if I told you that I had come up with a brilliant idea to make millions of dollars and then I explained the concept of scrap booking you would tell me to go get fucked. I am amazed that people scrapbook. I am more amazed that anyone would take that much time to slap a photo into a book and "decorate" it and then place it in the lap of some poor unsuspecting and watch as they flip the pages of their scrapbook to discover that yes they had a wonderful holiday at Kangaroo Valley last year. Thankfully I have been spared the indignity of either having to ever scrapbook or look at the finished product between that and carbon emissions I am losing my will to live.

The Coyote On High School Reunion's

Last week my friend Adrian told me about going to his twenty year High School Reunion which he attended the other week. I was impressed that he was not at all concerned about what other ex-school friends thought of him now that he was all grown up. I was equally impressed that he said he found the gathering to be very uplifting and really exceeded his expectations of how the past can be left behind and new friendships can be formed in the most unlikely quarters. So the conversation got my mind working in overdrive. What if I were asked to attend my high school reunion.? Would I go? It poses an interesting conundrum since I only need to roll over in bed and, bang! high school reunion. So supposing the situation outside of the four walls of my bedroom did eventuate and I had to make the very real decision of whether to go or stay away which would I choose?. So on Sunday evening whilst having dinner for the second time with a friend from high school that I recently reconnected with since leaving school I posed the what if there is a reunion question to him. His response was that he had already attended a reunion for his form and it all went as he had expected it to. The interesting twist that he filed in my brain under, "mental note to self upon not attending a school reunion", was that for anyone who didn't attend then the rumour of what they "thought" became of that person was left to run rife. Of course being a one woman PR machine I figured I could potentially cover the dilemma of the rife rumour with a bullshit story that I had been eaten by the ghost of Leigh Bowry at an underground party in London and regurgitated as a fucked up journo that carnt even spell. But would I want that to be my legacy, a potentially dodgy rumour that would no doubt be lost in translation as was my entire high school career. So if and when the occasion should arise I will have to rethink the whole thing and for that reason my mind wanders to my wonder boy PK (see previous post) in school uniform and days when life was a lot more emotionally complicated than it is now, believe it or not.

Auto Cashier

Despite the fact that in shopping centres throughout the world there are cashiers losing their jobs due to automation, umm I'm sorry but I just love doing it myself. I find myself buying smaller amounts just so I can scan my own stuff, muck about with the credit card payment thingy and generally enjoy playing cashier for at least a small part of a day. You see when I was about 17 I had to work in order to pay for my schooling so I did the only thing I was qualified to do, oh and probably still am, work at Franklin's as a cashier, aka, "check out chick". It was definitely up there with one of the most fun jobs I have ever had. Strangely I got the job through a friend from schools girlfriend and the store was nowhere near where I either went to school or lived so therefore I never had the embarrassment of having someone I knew come through my checkout so I always felt comfortable and enjoyed the job without the scrutiny of people you really don't want knowing you have such a lowly job. It was in the days when scanners were new and there was no such thing as paying by credit card or eftpos. In fact I can remember people paying by cheque and I was always impressed by how much money some people seemed to have.

Though I guess what interested me most was the string of love affairs I had with boys who also worked there part time. You know the freezer boys with those big all in one padded suits, oh the fun times, oh the freezing cold conditions at lunch time but oh the fun times and oh how I will never look at a frozen chicken the same way again. Oh okay okay get your mind out of the gutter we just played chook lotto it was harmless but not always for the chickens. The job also cemented my fetish for fresh clean new money. I am a big sucker for new money, the smell, the touch and the feeling of it in your wallet, lovely. So I guess that is why I now find myself playing check out chick at every shop I can possibly find that provides an automated check out, I speed beep my stuff and use one plastic bag per item, Fuck the Planet!. So thanks to me kissy pooing with a lot of boys in the freezer at Franklins in my youth the world is going to be sinking about 2 meters into the ocean due to my pathetic plastic bagging and lack of employment for those less fortunate students out there, umm yeah sorry about that, Not!

Note: I realise it is a little late, about twenty years too late but sorry again to the woman's azaleas that I destroyed whilst at a Franklins end of year party that I stumbled out of with a freezer boy. I recall we landed in her wonderful garden across the road. She did come out waving a broom at us and I will forever feel I blew her chance to be apart of Burke's Back yard one day so yeah sorry bout that.

Dinner = Yum

I went to a lar de dar restaurant tonight that far exceeded my expectations. Although despite this fact I did find that upon receipt of ones finely crafted dinner the waiter was required to give you a full description of exactly what you were about to eat, pointed to each thing on the plate and provided commentary of the foods origin and what exactly it was. Perhaps this was par for the course when you are paying for the course, still it was good except that I was more interested in my dinner companion's conversation to listen to what I was being told, hence I am guessing I ate some piggy with a bit of pear. Umm me thinks.... Oh how I love to talk, and maybe next time I may actually pay attention to the waiter, or perhaps not.

One From The Vault - My Old Flatmates Ben & Matt

I once lived in a big terrace house in Redfern in Sydney, Australia. It was huge and it was completely filled with boys. Yes and that is the main reason I moved in, boys, boys, boys. I figured if I lived with boys then there was the very real possibility they were bound to have more than enough male friends and I was right on that front in fact I was in boy land literally. I moved in very quickly as I had no time to think about my accommodation during that time in my life, it went something like drop your bags here and welcome to your new home. Apart from the boys I also loved the house it was a cavernous array of rooms and places that if you stepped in then it was possible you would find something or someone you were not expecting, and some. That house seemed to have a knack for taking care of you especially when you needed it. Take for instance the day I found an old typewriter in a broom cupboard just when I needed to knock up a resume, or the time I came across some great costume jewelery just before heading out to a fancy dress party. Of course all the things were from old flatmates past who had obviously discarded them in one cupboard or another. So I found shortly after moving in that in fact I had landed myself in party central with having unknowly moved in with two well known Sydney DJ's, Cha Ching boy jackpot, Yay! At the time I worked from 6pm till 4am five nights a week so I was used to being awake all night so when I would return from work at 4:30am or so the party would be well in full swing in the extremely huge loungroom we had. Boys! Boys! Boys!. So I would trot out of work and get fully made up again just to return home before dawn, ahh those were the days!

Without doubt living with Ben was fantastic he was comical and could certainly get the party started especially in his undies, which he had to do one night when I came bursting in the door unexpectedly with a bunch of friends and made him play songs all night not realising he was actually on his way to bed when we arrived but I could not see him from my vantage point as he was standing behind the DJ decks that were set up in the lounge room at the time. Poor pet was forced to stay awake and entertain my friends only to emerge from behind the decks after everyone had left wearing nothing more than a frown and his undies.

So I then bring you to Matt, well what can I say about Matt, executive by day, party animal extraordinaire by a zillion at night. I can not tell you how many times I saw Matt so completely on another planet from say early Friday morning through to the following Tuesday fortnight. I also can not tell you how many times I saw him face down on the lounge room floor looking like he was dead. I really felt living in that house that one day I would be living the "He died with a fallafel in his hand" dream. I also never saw Matt pay for a drink or a good time in his life I think people just kept him juiced up because he was quintessentially a party starter. Dear Matt he was a super flatmate but boy did he get blamed for everything that ever went wrong in that house from not putting out the garbage, to setting it on fire, to never washing up, and oh yes the spot of bother we had when the entire roof caved in, none of which were his fault at all. I miss those heady days of parties and boys and running down the stairs during a party to open the front grill gate to about a million young lads who watched in glee as my jacket burst open and revealed my boobies. No I didn't do it on purpose! and yes I spent the rest of the night holed up in my room listening to the male guests telling each other about the fabbie female house mate who flashed boys for no apparent reason.

So now that I have turned into a fully fledged grown up person, I think, and I believe that Ben and Matt have now also become fully fledged grown ups, I think, we are going to have a get together. Who knows what capers and hi jinx will ensue but I can tell you I have only revealed about 1% of what really used to go on in that house suffice to say if the walls could talk they would be appearing next week on The View!

It's All Over Red Rover

Well another festival has come and gone, and yes you missed it. I was on first, no that is not the Abbot and Costello joke it is true I was first on the bill. I got relegated to the first cab off the rank due to a late line up change and frankly I was kind of happy about it. I had to manage the lectures this year and I really didn't want to watch the crowd swell along with my anxiety. So I got in and got it done and it was good. Not a big crowd but I was certainly happy with the amount of people who showed up and everything went along swimmingly. I really am proud to be part of the Under The Blue Moon Festival and I hope it continues for many moons to come since it is a great community get together and fun ta boot. I am not sure if I want to lecture next year, pretty much saturated my market and it might be good to just coordinate the lectures if that is possible, but I will wait to see how the fall out is after this years shin dig. I am looking forward to emailing the people I met today and I hope I can catch up with them and possibly learn a little more about their passions.

It was also a pleasure to meet Tara Moss, its good to meet another woman who also sounds like Carlotta. Though poor Tara what she doesn't realise is "I hear the train acomin its rolling round the bend and I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when I'm stuck in "baby hell" and time keeps dragging on when I hear that "baby cryin" I hang my head and cry!" Thanks to Johnny Cash for that and yes don't expect too many books out of her in the up coming few years she is pregnant and with impending doom on her door step she had better enjoy her little sojourn today because it will be the last for many moons without a reliable baby sitter and a lot of planning and to quote Spongey "Good Luck With That!.

Forgot My Password

Among forgetting to do many thing I should in life I forgot my password to get into blog so hence no posts recently. So stay tuned I have a plethora to say and of course limited time to do it.

25 Year Anniversary "Bash"

Hard to believe but in October 1985 the "Salon" was opened. Of course I joined the fun in 1991 as a baby and stayed for my fair share of crime and punishment for many many years. I recently popped in as is customary when one is wearing a lot of makeup and looking fantastic so as to get back to your roots and sit amongst your fellow sister. The bottom line is, "If those walls could talk" seriously they would be some damn rich fucken walls let me tell you.

Me And My Big Mouth

You know if I say one more stupid thing to a near stranger and end up having a deep an meaningful due to my own "passing comments" I swear I am going to scream. In the past few weeks I have managed to get a women to tell me all about her cheating husband and his child to another lover and the latest was a women who is suffering due to the murder of her niece. Like I said I only bring it on myself, I will be silent now I swear. I do of course enjoy these moment of life, and I know people just love to talk to me as I do them but I know I am going to have a third strike, its the law of the speaking circuit I guess. Now I just wait until I do it again and you know me it is only a matter of the clock ticking down till it happens again. Yay!

I Love Technology

I always dreamt of a day when you could talk on a phone that was not fixed to a wall. I also dreamt of the day that you didn't have to talk on the phone that was fixed on the wall whilst the entire family sat behind you listening to every word you said. Now you don't even have to talk, you can text, or one step even better send a photo of yourself on the toilet whilst reading the latest news on your phone and working out your GPS position. I love that my phone can tell me exactly what location I am at and how to get home if need be. I especially love it when you are millions of miles away from home and can get information about where to get milk and bread and some nice person has even posted a review on the small store you are venturing into in Ventura. It is nothing short of brilliant. I know people often say that the next generation will not understand what it was like to "not" receive a phone call but I doubt they will understand. I of course can remember a dark time when if you were waiting on a boy to call you would forgo leaving the house altogether and the cord to the telephone didn't reach the bathroom so you dare not not even take a shower for fear of missing the call. So no they wont understand and don't even get me started on taking your film to the chemist and waiting a week to get it back. Of course when you did get it back your 12 photos that you paid big bucks for all have stickers on them telling you "over exposed" like the black piece of photo paper didn't already let you know that. So cheers to all the nerds who make technology, I love yous all.

Brian Ferry

Brian Ferry has a new album out. I listened to the title track off it yesterday along with the video. The song was fantastic, the video seemed like it was a rehearsal shoot for a challenge from America's next top model. So go and check it out and see what you think!

There's Something About Bob

Oh and I just found out that Bob Geldof has a new album coming out in early 2011, could this mean a tour perhaps? Fantastic, someone rally the other three and we are so there.

Follow Your Convictions

Yes these are wise words, "Follow Your Convictions" and they are wonderful if it not for whence they came. The other day I was walking past a salubrious jewelers when I saw a rather large picture of my one true love, Bob Geldof. I have loved Bob since I was a little girl. Initially I trotted past the store half not thinking what I had just seen was for real only to toddle back and find that in fact, yes there he was, my pin up boy Bob. I was slightly confused, in fact no I was completed fucking confused, Bob, my Bob, a pin up poster boy for Maurice Lacroix watches?, get outta here!. So I stood and let Bob's wonderful face wash over me as I read the blurb and contemplated the inexcusable price tag of a watch. Anyway I was a bit peeved over the whole thing, I have to say at the out set though that I loved Bob long before he ever did Live Aid and frankly that has never really done it for me, well it did but not because he set the whole thing up that was just just the plum really but I have always loved him for his music, yes that is right his music. I have stood at every show he has ever done in Sydney, myself and the other three fans he has here. I have stood at the Three weeds in Sydney on many occasions when nobody gave a fuck and I have crouched at his feet at the Seymour Centre when my seat was taken from me by a rather unrepentant door bitch and I have not cared that only myself and the other three were the only ones paying attention at his show at the Enmore Theatre so I think I have done my dues when it comes to Bob. So selling watches was something I never thought I would see him do but then I guess when four people are the only ones showing up to your shows then I guess a boy's gotta eat. So yes I am miffed that he appeared to be selling out but then after reading the blurb on why he was chosen because he is inspiring people to be who they want to be I thought it was brilliant. So yes Bob you have always inspired me to be who I want to be and perhaps one day an expensive time piece with the inscription, "be who you want to be" could be just what I need.

Myself and Paul

The other night I had a dream that I was sitting at a big board room table having a one on one conversation with Paul McCartney. I can not recall if I was telling him that Wings may not have been the best band in the world or that "Say Say Say" was probably not lyrical genius, but I do remember I had a very old wonderful looking leather bound old book in my hands and I asked him if he wouldn't mind signing it for me. He seemed quite happy about signing it and this surprised me as I felt awkward asking him to. So I slid the book over and he opened it up with a certain amount of excitement at my asking him to inscribe it with my name. In my mind I was hoping it would be brilliant and I could fob it off to some lonely fan with money to burn. After he joyfully wrote something down he slid the book back to me and it read; "To Jodie, You are the biggest bullshit artist I have ever known, Love Paul McCartney." At that point I woke up, laughing I might add. The best part about this dream was the fact that it was in fact a dream and that subconsciously I have called myself a bullshit artist. What a classic for someone who never lets the truth get in the way of a good story. I love the way the mind works and at times even my own. One for the classic file me thinks.

Regret's I've Had A Few But Then Again Just One To Mention

I was living in London back in 1993, it was a wonderful time for me I was footloose and fancy free. I was also very young and when I look back extremely lucky with the good choices I made. I lived in a great place, had loads of great friends and partied like it was 1999 each and every night of the week. I travelled every other weekend to great places like Paris and Spain and I lapped up the admiration of many many young single gents. So it was one sunny afternoon that I was strolling around London when I happened upon a sale of second hand stuff. Namely the second hand stuff was a giant pile of rubble in a shop that was actually the remains of the Berlin Wall which not long before had fallen to democracy. So I stood in amongst the rubble and contemplated buying a piece of graffiti stained rock. I held it in my hands and asked the price, I think it was about 20 quid or so and I certainly had the money but I put it down and walked out. My reason was I figured who would care about this crappy piece of rubble anyway and it would be too heavy to try and eventually haul back to Australia, if and when I ever returned. Tea chest or not I had a gazillion shoes and they were of a top priority to me back then. So it is something I regret, I should have damn well bought that piece of the Berlin Wall but I didn't, if only I wasn't so young and stupid I would now have a brilliant door stop with a fantastic conversation piece too boot and who knows how much I would get if I were to take it to the Antiques Roadshow, perish the thought.

Thank Fuck That's Over

Finally someone is running the joint. It's about time. Not that they are doing much anyway but at least now we can stop hearing about it. Hopefully!

Carry On - My Love Affair With Barbara Windsor

Everyone has a dirty little secret and mine is a love affair with Eastenders. I have had it all my life ever since the ABC used to play really old back dated episodes of Eastenders teasing Australians that we were any where near up to date with the show. Of course that was probably when I was around my late teens and I signed up to Foxtel as soon as it was available many many moons ago because of the promise of Eastenders. So every night at 7pm I can be found indulging in my dirty little secret. I know all the In's and outs of the show and have done for as long as I care to remember. Sadly my favorite character the ye olde Barbara "Peggy Mitchell" Windsor is due to leave the series in the next few weeks and I am sad to see her go. So tonight I am indulging in a little bit of Barbara madness by watching her at her best in the early 70's with Sid James in some of the Carry On films. Now I know they are trashy but I always get a laugh out of them if not for the fact that Sid James was the epitome of dirty old man but what is most astonishing is there are 31 of these films in total. Everything from Carry on Matron to my favorite Carry On Camping. If ever there was a 1st place getter for the saying "they made a little go a very very long way" then the "Carry On" movies certainly win. So here is to you Babs you are a legend.

My Birthday in New York City

I will be celebrating my birthday in NYC in the not to distant future. It is my favorite place in the world other than my beloved Sydney and frankly I have spent enough time in both cities to be an expert. The first time I hit New York I was only 21. I was so overwhelmed by the fact the place was just as I had imagined that I burst into tears as the taxi took me into Manhattan for the first time. I partied like I have never partied before and I swore then and there that I would return as often as I humanly could. Oh and yes I have, yes I have. So it comes as little wonder that I am organising a birthday bash the likes of which will send me broke for many years to come.

I am hoping to do all my favorite NY things, and then some. So I will also indulge myself by getting Buddy from Carlo's Bakery in Hoboken to make my birthday cake. I am yet to officially decide what I will be getting but suffice to say I am tossing up the flavours first, red velvet versus chocolate ganache, what to choose what to choose. I am having lots of friends come along from all sides of the globe and no doubt it will be super fun.

I have experienced every season in NY from hot balmy nights watching rap dancers do their stuff in Brooklyn to freezing my arse off in the snow on 42nd street after falling out of yet another hole in the wall with my beloved DM husband from Scotland. So I think my mid year birthday bash may see the temperatures at a pleasant stage rather than the extremes that NY is used to. I don't think I have ever been as hot or cold in any other place as much as I have in that town it is certainly a place of extremes.

Oh and the one thing I can never wait for after arriving at JFK is racing to the nearest Popeye Chicken and ordering a big heap of biscuits with ranch sauce. Now that is heaven.

Thats about all the time I would want

I found this article about the ever present Madge. Frankly 15 minutes would be too much. Ho hum.

Who's Running The Joint!

As of today, never a truer word has been spoken. It is now time to run amok since we are leaderless. But for how long? I feel like a child whose parents have had a fight and both walked out forgetting they left us behind. Break out the red cordial and lollies, we are officially on our own. Yay!

The 80's Are Back - My decent into a bawling mess!

Well I finally got to go and see myself in the "Back to the 80's" exhibition that is on now at the Powerhouse Museum. In fact it has been on since I went to the opening in December but of course since I have basically lived a life time since then I have not had the time to go. So it was a nice cold afternoon in Sydney when I trotted down to Ultimo to check it out. I did see the exhibit when I was at the opening night but frankly I was too busy catching up with people I had not seen in many years so I didn't have time to really absorb the whole thing up close. So it was really nice to stand amongst it all. I have to say that I am quite proud to be apart of it and it all looked so fantastic and well put together so a big thanks to all those who were involved. I read every little fact and poured over every item on display. I stood in the dance party vortex room and reminisced about the "good old days" of Sydney night life and I watched the video montage of friends who did in fact look as fabulous as I remembered them. So during the video I started to bawl, and I thought of "all the people I was kissing, some are here and some are missing" as the song says. It is hard to believe that they are gone, that evil nasty disease that pretty much ripped the guts right out of the bright lights and big city of Sydney and not to mention everywhere else.

I have to say the afternoon left me a little bewildered it was like I had opened a chasm of my past that I hadn't quite ever wanted to leave behind and I really really wanted to step back in time, if not just to see those lost forever. Though if I really want to admit the truth I wanted to smash the glass of the display cabinet and steal all of those glistening club keyring passes, jump in a cab and finally be apart of the "cool" crowd. Yes that is right but alas in 2010 they will get me into knowhere but I don't care I want them but I guess I will just have to be content with admiring them from behind a glass cabinet, "the same as it ever was!" So please enjoy my little piece of the 80's through Vicky D, attached via You Tube and imagine me practicing my dance moves at my friends house and remember "Do want you want to do" because that is exactly what I have done.

Miss Lord Byron

I emailed you, did you get it???? Let me know, cant wait to hear from you....

Teeth White But Oh The Pain

Vanity has yet again determined my pain threshold and I have ventured into the world of professional teeth bleaching. My first foray into this world of white was quickly followed by an agonizing day of holding my face as I screamed in teeth zinging hell. A few weeks on and a few more visits to my dentist and I am now getting strangely addicted to the whitening process. Oh dear god where will it end. I am now obsessed with looking at peoples teeth and working out where they rate on the white scale. So be watching for a freak like me to be over analysing your teethy pegs any time soon k.

Lord Help The Mister That Comes Between Me And My Sister!!

You know I really want my sister Tamara to marry Michael Buble and frankly that wasn't going to happen whilst her boobies were taking a vacation to her knees. Interview after interview she was all tricked out under her clothes but her boobies were west ward ho. So like the good sister I am and because she is the beauty in this duo I told her so and it was get thee to a proper bra shop pronto, see that is my Italian right there. So off we trotted and the result can best be admired via You Tube. Oh those boys from Temper trap no doubt where all askew and bedazzled by Tamara's wondrous ways and no doubt her wonder bra. Good on you sister, see no surgery required! Now if only I could work out a way to post you a link, will work on it and then you to can be the judge of boobies ahoy!!!!

On Holiday

Oh dear it seems my beloved readers that I have been on holidays. Actually it isn't really a holiday it is just that I have been devoting my time to other writing projects at the moment. All is well except for the lovely Mattia. As it turns out he had a barney with his team and is no longer riding in this season's round. Probably a good thing since he has spent the season picking gravel out of his arse. So whom am I going to oogle at now. I guess its back to watching the boy across the road. If only I knew what band he was in, I could no doubt use my friend google. Still a first name might be an idea, time to boil up some lemon butter me thinks......

Oh Mattia!

Last night Mattia rode at Le Mans in the next round of the Moto 2. So I set myself up ready to watch him and was initially disappointed that he started 31st on the grid. Still not one to be deterred I thought well yes it would take a miracle to get a place, but he can do it. But oh no, poor Mattia ended up as he has done for a few of the past races sliding through the gravel on his arse. I was impressed that he got up and hugged the Japanese rider that he also took with him on his bum slide, but seriously Mattia, I am losing hope stop sliding on your bum and start winning k. Still I can't complain since the TV coverage did show him dusting himself off and hugging other said rider so all was not lost.

Good Bye Carmen

Yesterday my good friends mother died. Carmen was a little Chilean woman who always welcomed me into her big rather loud Spanish home with love and affection. She always treated me in later years like I was the prized daughter who was returning from far off distant lands of opportunity looking like a movie star that just rolled in to say a quick hello then would be off again to some fabulous place far removed from who I once was. I loved that she thought I had become someone special and I dare not tell her that in fact I was still the same Jodie just a little older, wiser and with better clothes and a car. Carmen's command of English was something she never really came to terms with no matter how long she lived in Australia and last night whilst visiting my friend to grieve her mother I reminded her of a classic Carmen faux par. Once whilst visiting her she told me about how she had been on a picnic to a fantastic beach that she was taken with. Oh she said it is called Avocado beach. I looked at her and asked where is this Avocado beach I have never heard of it, and she told me the location and I thought erm yes I think you are referring to Avoca Beach. I never corrected her about it because it was cuter to hear someone refer to it as Avocado Beach. She was also famous for asking us if we wanted any Melon Water, we would all just nod yes having no idea what she was about to serve us only to be relived when she would come out with watermelon. She was the matriarch of a very large brood of girls and I always admired that despite the fact she was ditsy and almost burnt the house to the ground one night because she left an electric blanket switched on draped over the leather lounge which caught fire she had managed to raise a lot of children, who were decent respectable people. I will miss Carmen she was a lovely woman who deserves to be home where she felt at peace. She left Australia for a holiday a few weeks ago in her home town in Chile and it is there that today she will be laid to rest. Goodbye Carmen I will miss you.

Me As Ziggy Twice!

Of course the genius of Mr. Stuart Garske is how I managed to pay homage to Ziggy Stardust in my own back yard. Yes he did the makeup, direction, photography and diva dealings on a photo shoot at my house. I love this photo, and yes it is me the one and only Jodie Coyote. If you want to find out more about the wonderful and talented work of Stuart then go to his website listed below though this photo speaks volumes for his genius not to mention how big my lips look, fabby huh? almost makes me want to go and stick a honkin huge needle in me face - erm how bout no.

The Cute Boy Across The Road

Yes I have a cute boy that lives across the road from me. Thank God because life would be boring if it weren't for things like this. As far as I'm aware he has lived over the road for a while and for that while I have enjoyed seeing him come and go. If I were younger and without responsibility I might just whistle at him from my vantage point of the front veranda but alas I am content to admire him as he walks to and from work and has jaunts to the local milk bar for cheap toilet paper. All I know of him is that he probably plays in a band at the weekends as he sometimes walks up the road on a Friday night with his guitar slung over his shoulder, very cute, and does not return till the dark hours of the morning and is privvy to using nasty no name tp. Of course the mystery like most things would be crushed if I found out he plays banjo for the local RSL band or worse the police marching band. So for the meantime he is my afternoon delight minus all the delight and despite the fact that I would rather die than use cheap toilet paper I am willing to overlook this terrible flaw if only to admire from a distance. Hallelujah to clear windows and going to get the mail!!!!!!

Maturity

Rarely do I meet anyone under the age of 40 who I think has any degree of maturity and then even most of them are retards in this area in one way or another. In fact it is a word that doesn't exactly conjure up images of Gen Y at all, in fact Gen X ain't far beyond them either, and don't get me started on the Baby Boomers. When I was growing up people older than me were most often than not my friends and they were forever telling me how mature I was for my age. Of course when you are going to hit 38 nobody says you are mature for your age anymore unless they are referring to the way you look in which case you would probably dislike them very much. So I am glad that I am finally getting older in my calender age in order to reflect how I have often felt in terms of my maturity and that is somewhere around 50. It isn't that I don't feel young, I do, but I've always had a level head and made sound decisions even if some of them were not exactly wise they were never particularly stupid and immature and certainly none of them made me hope that one day I would be mature.

Which brings me to my point being my friendship with a young 22 year old who is actually mature and not like her contemporaries in the Gen Y world. It is refreshing to meet a young person who is not texting whilst talking to you at the same time and who understands that music did not begin with Usher and end with 50c. She writes a blog which I will post a link to and I hope she keeps writing because it is cathartic and perhaps some of my more mature minded and aged readers can share their thoughts with her.

Cold Feet Or A Midsummer Nights Dream

As boring and old age pensioner as this sounds I hate getting cold feet. Though what I loath more are people who say that winter is better than summer because you apparently can get warm easier than you can cool off, therefore making Winter the best time of year, apparently. Well perhaps they would like me to slip my freezing cold feet up their arse this winter. I lay in my bed, fully clothed by 2 sets, flannelet sheets, doona and quilt, electric blanket, sox, a 37 year old man and sometimes my dressing gown and still it can take me ages to go to sleep as my feet are literally frozen.

So those who love Winter why the fuck are their so many more interesting things to do in summer than there are in Winter huh? Outdoor movies, outdoor sports, outdoor dining, outdoor anything, late night dips and the sweet smell of a big southerly buster to cool off. Frankly it is a fact that more people die in Winter than they do in Summer and that is all I need to convince myself I am not the crazy one. I also only need to look to Shakespeare, he didn't write A Midsummer Nights Dream only to be changed to A Mid Winter Nights Nightmare In Cold Feet Fucking Hell did he? I rest my case.

P.S. And no skiing does not count as "Winter Fun" moreover it is worse than cold feet, you slide around, get drenched and fall on your arse all whilst freezing to fucken death, oh yes that sounds like fun.

All Those Years Ago!

With my birthday fast approaching, and with me constantly forgetting because I am getting too old to remember that its about to happen I have spent some time tonight reflecting on what was. Here I am in the above picture, I think I am about, what 17, and that is 21 years ago. The first thing that struck me was the thought of actually going out to a nightclub which now makes me want to gag. I mean I will be well tucked up in bed at about the same time that I would have been heading out the door all those years ago. I also noticed how well polished my Dr. Martins were, not surprising since they meant so much to me given the fact that I had no fucking money and had saved like a bastard to buy them. So here I am in my 20c St Vinnie's outfit, fishnets, and my oh so prized shoes which had I have been smarter I would have realised they were in fact workman's boots not stylish men attractors but then high heels "dominated" my life a few years later. The other interesting thing about this photo is the lounge, which I only just lifted my arse off a few minutes ago and lives in my house to this day looking as good as it ever did.

I would like to say that I had big hopes for my future in this photo, but I didn't. I pretty much thought I was nothing, a nobody and without a future other than factory work, at best. It is amazing how those around you can make you feel so much less than what you actually are or who you will eventually become. Perhaps it is those challenges that make you stronger, I am yet to be convinced though. If the girl on the lounge in this photo met the woman I have become I dare say she would be shocked, if not for the fact that there would not be a Dr. Martin in any part of her wardrobe and going out at night is usually only to put out the garbage.

I Want More Life - Fucker!

Oh yes my favorite movie of all time - Bladerunner. Recently when I was in LA my friend Marky took me on an all expenses paid trip - free - to all the best locations where the movie had been filmed. The above picture is the fabulous tunnel which appears in the movie as Deckard is driving through on his way to the equally fantastic Bradbury Building which we also visited.

As with my second favorite film "The Warriors" I was impressed at how much the original location looked despite untouched film magic it really was as if we were actually living it. Of course if you put these locations in Japan and turned on a sprinkler and a smoke machine - bang you would be living the Bladerunner fantasy.

I will endeavour to put up the other photos but suffice to say I loved it.

The 80's Are Back!

I have wanted to post some pictures for a long time and was having issues - now I'm not so expect a flood. This photo was taken in December last year 2009 at the 80's are back exhibition opening night at the Powerhouse Museum. Of course Stuart and I were the best dressed at the party and morphed back to the 80's with ease. Funnily enough we had been in a rush to put the finishing touches on our look and didn't get a photo of ourselves before we left the house. Luckily a Gen Y at the party was running about taking photos for Twitter and got this great shot of us looking very Sigue Sigue Sputnik - shot it up baby!

Oh Mattia!!!

Here is a picture of my Mattia - love those white pants my love. I know, I know he is a baby with perfect eyebrows and probably weighs less than my left leg but boy can he ride a bike. Yes I could snap him like a twig between my thighs but I think that is the point right?

Lara Who Is Blue!

I think if I hear one more story about Lara Bingle I am going to scream in fact I will scream so loud they will hear me on the moon or at least in Russia. Frankly we are all aware that she is a nobody but be that as it may she still managed to get onto the news yet again tonight despite the fact she dumped poor old Maxxy Markson today - umm who is kidding who on that front good work Max you publicity guru you. So tonight we were told she is telling anyone who cares, and that appears to be the general public, that she only has three friends and is lonely after breaking up with her boyfriend. Well my dear all I can say is boo fucking who. Frankly who hasn't been lonely at least once and if you have a face and an arse as pretty as ye olde Bingle then you really have nothing to complain about. If you can't get out and get yourself a few more friends and a new BF as they say then running to the six o'clock news ain't going to get you friends. Paying for a few might though. I am always horrified at how non news worthy stories get to air. Of course channel 9 then backed up the Bingle story with the fact that Bono is turning 50 today. Now I am a massive Bono fan but him turning 50 and Lara only having 3 friends does not news make.

So in honour of what news should be I hope the Gen Y's at channel 9 can be called upon to see what happened in 1985 when Bob Geldof turned on the "news" and saw what was happening in Ethopia and tried to do something to help. It gave U2 their finest moment, bad leather pants and all. So if you have never seen this concert footage imagine how amazing it was in 1985 and how it impressed upon me the importance of what "real" news reporting can and should be about how a news story changed the world in 1985 though regrettably not forever. So Bingle join RSVP and Channel 9 think about what is really important in news reporting.

Ciao Magazine

I was recently interviewed for "Ciao" magazine. The interviewer was not particularly good and I had to really struggle to get what avenue she was taking the story in. Turns out a "swinging" direction. Although the swingers article is boxed in the middle of the "goth" article it is rather disconcerting. Oh well such is life. As for kids being vampires as if I would know I haven't been out of the house after 6pm for years let alone in the middle of the night. So my take on being a teenage vampire is slightly skewed since I have absolutely no fucking idea. Still parents would not be thrilled by their kiddies taking on this subculture and as for that I guess it is interesting, still so is sitting in a "huge jacuzzi" at the "lotus club" apparently!!!!!! Eeekkkkk

Suddenly 38!

Firstly let me apologise for my last post - "Get Thee To A Nunnery" I was in fact testing my blog and accidentally posted it - it meant nothing it wasn't a cryptic crossword on my count it was merely me trying to work out how to add a web address or photo as I was able to do it easily and then it all got too difficult so please just disregard it as codswallop.

So I am going to be 38 in a few weeks. I feel as though I am finally catching up to the way I have always felt in my mind, more mature than my actual age. Last night I caught a little of the movie, Suddenly 30. It got me to thinking about what I would change if I were to go back to when I was 13 years old and it was an easy answer - nothing. Of course I would buy shares in Microsoft, patent the name Goggle and start working on big selling ideas like children's themed birthday parties, and heaven forbid "scrap booking" but mostly I guess I would try and buy up most of Sydney's real estate because that is where the money would be.

Still when it comes to who I was and am personally I wouldn't want to change anything even if I was given the chance. Of course I may want to have the odd kissy poo with a few boys that I missed out on but then would they be privy to that anyway since they weren't the first time around? Who knows but it would be extreme fun to go back with knowledge and the wisdom of maturity and know that no matter the mistakes you were making it would all work out okay in the end.

Still if when I was 13 and was told that I would end up marring "that" guy from school I feel sure I would have died of heart failure and screamed - "What I am not going to marry Dave Gahan get outta here!"

So 38 here I come, I'm not afraid because I have already learnt so much and feel the future is bright - perhaps I should get some shades!

Get Thee To A Nunnery

My Mattia Pasini

I love Mattia Pasini - if you don't know who he is then you should tune in next to the 250cc Moto GP and see my boy ride. He is an Italian Stallion with some serious horse power between his legs. I have been following him for a few seasons and whilst he ain't no Valentino just yet he is trying hard, although today he Spain he had to return to the pits with what I guess is bike trouble. I hope his season gets better mainly so I can see him on the podium as without a place he doesn't tend to get a lot of attention therefore I don't get to see his lovely face. So go Mattia Go!

R.I.P Malcolm I Will Miss You!

I loved Malcolm McLaren - for everything - he was a legend. I will miss him.

Lou Reed's A Cunt!

Hey I'm back - this one is a quickie, literally, but I knew the title would evoke emotion, if not to get you to turn away from your screen. The reason for my outburst, well frankly Lou Reed likes to think he is the be all and end all when it comes to being "alternative". Put simply he has not had a hit in over twenty years and the only place anyone ever hears of him is on WSFM and that is bad enough. Velvet Underground Who? Would be the general response from anyone under the age of 40.

I mean yes he wrote "Walk on the wild side" but nobody ever listens to the lyrics because if they did they would have banned the song long ago on radio and we would have been saved from then having to endure Lou's take on everything slightly left of centre. So why the rant on poor dear old Lou. Well every time he is interviewed he acts like he is wanting to slash his wrists, that the perils of being on "artist" are so hard to bare that he can and will refuse to be anything but tortured.

Personally I think he needs to look to toward the one true god of "alternative" and there is only one - David Bowie. Yeah Yeah Yeah Lou you were part of the New York underground scene, blah blah fucking blah, so was Joey Ramone but you didn't see him acting like a spoilt brat. So I come to the end of this blog to inform you that I just read that dear old Lou and his zimmer frame will be greeting us in May for the Vivid Live Festival at the Opera House, Reed as I have read will be "playing improvised soundscapes described as an endurance test of noise" inspired by the infamous 1975 album Metal Machine Music.

Oh please stab me repeatedly with a fucking pitch fork to the side of my head as this is a better alternative and a possible real test of my endurance to see how much blood would piss from my head as opposed to the blood which would piss from my ears if I were forced to listen to Lou do anything "improvised". Is this for real - Oh yes indeedy it is my friends. Hopefully it will be free because if you paid for this trite I guess you get what you deserve. Perhaps a nice big sign with the fab line "But she never lost her head, even when she was giving head" would be appropriate in my blood spurting due to head wound script glory. Or maybe not.

Back From My Hiatus

I know - a holiday or a hiatus - either way I am back to blogging. So stay tuned for more adventures or for the most boring ride of your life.