There's nothing like paying $5 for a 15 minute internet session - and to not even be able to send the one urgent e-mail you forked out the bucks for due to an excruciatingly slow net connection - to make you get to the point.
Ergo, a summary of Woodford thus far:
- it is cold.
- it is wet.
- it is muddy.
- we packed for neither.
- we have brought the kids up to the Sunny Coast for the day, in an effort to dry out and entertain them in an unlikely-to-catch-a-cold capacity before dropping them off for a few days at Tim's brother and his wife's place.
- Woodford is otherwise rocking - had my first gig last night which was good but not amazing. I think I was a little nervous and also a bit out of it, seeing as I put my back out yesterday. I even went to a Reiki dude who cracked my back so much I was half expecting a big nut to pop out (it didn't: phew) and dosed up on Nurofen but anyway...the point is, it still went well, though I was a little stunned by the size of the crowd and not being able to see a single one of them. Totally different acoustics, totally different laughter... I think I was a little spun out to fully enjoy it, but now I've gotten over the shock of the first one, I'm sure it's gonna all be more fun from here on!
Stay tuned, hippies!
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Sunday, December 24, 2006
I'm Dreaming Of A Trashy Christmas
We arrived late this avo at my brother and sister-in-law's abode on the Coast and, at the invitation of one of our neighbours, decided to venture forth to the community church next door for Christmas carols and free food (for I, dear reader, am a sucker for both.)
It didn't take me long to realise I'd perhaps made a mistake in taking the kids in barefoot. For what followed was an absolute avalanche of charity - virtually thrust upon us was plate after plate of food, drinks, lolly-pops, candy-canes, fruit-cake, teddy bears (upon last count the kids had clocked up five of the things complete with Santa caps), a gingerbread Christmas tree (I'm talking a huge one that actually stands up and everything) and glo-sticks. No kidding...we walked out of the place half an hour later with such a massive stash it looked like we were knocking the place off. Embarassing in that very profitable kinda way.
But embarrassment aside, I was actually genuinely moved - to get a glimpse of what it must mean for people who are truly in need, to go to a place like this and just have absolute generosity spilled upon them, to see the looks on their kids' faces when they are spoiled rotten, to feel like you actually have people around who are going out of their way to serve you...I was struck by a couple of thoughts:
1. Wow, it's so awesome that things like this exist for the homeless.
2. Wow, maybe they think that we're homeless.
3. Hang on...we ARE homeless!
The only thing that made me chuckle more was later when I put out the fruit cake and milk for Santa, only to have Ella voice her terror at the thought of Santa stealing our newly-scored Gingerbread Christmas Tree. "Put it in the cupboard, Mummy, quickly!"
I've never managed to feel so chirpy and trashy at the same time.
It didn't take me long to realise I'd perhaps made a mistake in taking the kids in barefoot. For what followed was an absolute avalanche of charity - virtually thrust upon us was plate after plate of food, drinks, lolly-pops, candy-canes, fruit-cake, teddy bears (upon last count the kids had clocked up five of the things complete with Santa caps), a gingerbread Christmas tree (I'm talking a huge one that actually stands up and everything) and glo-sticks. No kidding...we walked out of the place half an hour later with such a massive stash it looked like we were knocking the place off. Embarassing in that very profitable kinda way.
But embarrassment aside, I was actually genuinely moved - to get a glimpse of what it must mean for people who are truly in need, to go to a place like this and just have absolute generosity spilled upon them, to see the looks on their kids' faces when they are spoiled rotten, to feel like you actually have people around who are going out of their way to serve you...I was struck by a couple of thoughts:
1. Wow, it's so awesome that things like this exist for the homeless.
2. Wow, maybe they think that we're homeless.
3. Hang on...we ARE homeless!
The only thing that made me chuckle more was later when I put out the fruit cake and milk for Santa, only to have Ella voice her terror at the thought of Santa stealing our newly-scored Gingerbread Christmas Tree. "Put it in the cupboard, Mummy, quickly!"
I've never managed to feel so chirpy and trashy at the same time.
Friday, December 22, 2006
A Christmas Poem
This poem would work so much better if I could only set it to the music that's in my head as I write it. Oh well...please just use your imagination and apply your backing music of choice.
I'm planning to spend Christmas
Eating lots and lots of good food,
Followed by some drinkies
And a lovely week at Woodford.
But enough about me, what about you?
I'm a self-absorbed young fairy,
Whatever plans you have I hope
They're fun and light and merry.
Have fun dear darlings, don't spend too much
And whether the day's snowy or sunny,
Know you've had some Christmas wishes
From the Comic Mummy.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
I'm planning to spend Christmas
Eating lots and lots of good food,
Followed by some drinkies
And a lovely week at Woodford.
But enough about me, what about you?
I'm a self-absorbed young fairy,
Whatever plans you have I hope
They're fun and light and merry.
Have fun dear darlings, don't spend too much
And whether the day's snowy or sunny,
Know you've had some Christmas wishes
From the Comic Mummy.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Christmas Cheer and Christmas Fear
The Cheer:
Last night the whole fam made the trek back to Brissie for a last-minute Christmas dinner party - a ton of food, a ton of friends. Magic.
The Fear:
This morning we were greeted with a letter from my old land-lords, who, despite being extremely nice to our faces (in fact, even checking over our heartily scrubbed empty house and giving us the thumbs up), have decided to do the typical passive-aggressive thing and written down all the things they intend to take out of our bond. THIS MAKES ME SO MAD!!!!!!!!!! Especially given that the entire house has been falling apart since the day we moved in, they didn't even come and fix our toilet flush thingy which has been broken for the past six months, and now they have the nerve to try and charge us for fixing the place up! GRRRR!!!!!
I'm far from beaten though - I'm determined to take them on and win.
Mango Lick, I need your help!
Last night the whole fam made the trek back to Brissie for a last-minute Christmas dinner party - a ton of food, a ton of friends. Magic.
The Fear:
This morning we were greeted with a letter from my old land-lords, who, despite being extremely nice to our faces (in fact, even checking over our heartily scrubbed empty house and giving us the thumbs up), have decided to do the typical passive-aggressive thing and written down all the things they intend to take out of our bond. THIS MAKES ME SO MAD!!!!!!!!!! Especially given that the entire house has been falling apart since the day we moved in, they didn't even come and fix our toilet flush thingy which has been broken for the past six months, and now they have the nerve to try and charge us for fixing the place up! GRRRR!!!!!
I'm far from beaten though - I'm determined to take them on and win.
Mango Lick, I need your help!
Monday, December 18, 2006
In other official and convulsing news
We're officially out of the house (don't even ask about it as I'm still convulsing), officially in with the in-laws (less convulsing) and officially unsure of our plans for 2007. Which strangely, I'm totally digging. I guess when your child-full life is full of so much predictability (from cuddles to tantrums and everything in between), having some major life stuff suddenly become so potent with possibility is actually a real rush.
The only sad thing is that we got back from tour, then packed up within a week and left in such a rush that I feel like I just left town without even saying goodbye to anybody. In fact, apart from my closest mates and those who read this blog (there is some overlap, I'm happy to note) there are actually a ton of people in my life who probably don't even KNOW that I've moved.
*convulsing*
The only sad thing is that we got back from tour, then packed up within a week and left in such a rush that I feel like I just left town without even saying goodbye to anybody. In fact, apart from my closest mates and those who read this blog (there is some overlap, I'm happy to note) there are actually a ton of people in my life who probably don't even KNOW that I've moved.
*convulsing*
Thursday, December 14, 2006
HHHHEEEEELLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!
I'm THIS close to losing it - drowning in a three-quarters packed house, kids are more feral than ever before, in fact I am more feral than ever before...
SOMEONE BETTER SEND ME AN ANGEL (or chocolate) PRONTO.
Ta.
SOMEONE BETTER SEND ME AN ANGEL (or chocolate) PRONTO.
Ta.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Interview with the House-Mover
They can improve the ring-tones on the mobile phone, they can enhance the efficiency of the washing machine, but when it comes to the good old house-move...can they do anything to make it less painful? How bout NO.
We're at that half-way point right about now - you know, where there's enough stuff packed up to make you feel like you're making progress, but enough crap and dirt lying around to make you feel exhausted at the prospect of what lies ahead. Alas, I must go on, for there's no turning back.
But before I do, I'm taking a sanity break and writing some mindless drivel. Please don't feel obliged to read it, it's purely for my own entertainment.
Oh alright - you glutton for punishment you. But don't say I didn't warn you. This is an idea I stole from Gem, who decided to conduct her own Good Weekend style interview. I've already done one of these but here's another. Cos I'm nothing if not original.
My Perfect Weekend
Jenny Wynter. Comedian, Writer, Mother and Mad-Woman.
If you could go anywhere for a weekend, where would it be?
Johnny Depp's bedroom. Oh sorry, did I type that out loud? Um...probably a beautiful beachy island (as opposed to those horrid non-beachy ones) where it's just me and Tim, endless buffets of non-fattening food (i.e. yummy food which would traditionally fatten you but here it just doesn't) and we can roam nudie and surf and stuff.
What's an ordinary weekend like?
About as far removed from the previous answer as you can get.
What do you do on a Saturday night?
You mean if I'm not gigging or fighting crime? We usually socialise as a family - usually anything from the whole clan descending on a party (the only people who love to carve up the dance floor more than I do are my kids) to having dinner and board-games with other families. We're so friendly like that.
How do you relax?
Relax? Que?
What's your biggest weekend indulgence?
My Saturday sleep-in. I wish I knew how to type Homer Simpson's reaction when he sees beer, cos that's exactly what I do when I think of sleeping in..ughhghghaahghghgllllleyooo.
What do you do and where do you go if you want to paint the town red?
I don't drink heaps anymore cos kids + hangovers = kill me, but usually a night out with my girlfriends + bar hopping + bad karaoke (as opposed to the Idol kind) = my kinda night.
What are you reading?
Some old journals of mine that I found while moving - so many random ideas, so little time.
What are you watching?
Not a lot lately, but before we left on our trip we were getting completely addicted to the second season of Lost.
What do you do if you're looking for inspiration?
Oh it's easy. I just yell "Inspiration? Inspiration! Come here this minute young man, or you're in time out!" That and I read the Nelson Mandela quote about allowing ourselves to be everything we can be. But the first one's much more fun, especially when the little bastard talks back.
What did the weekend mean to you when you were a kid?
Sleeping in. Ughhghghaahghghgllllleyooo.
Followed by mum getting disgusted by the laziness of the next generation, and proceeding to wake me up by entering the room and vacuuming. To this day, the sound of a vacuum cleaner gives me shudders.
We're at that half-way point right about now - you know, where there's enough stuff packed up to make you feel like you're making progress, but enough crap and dirt lying around to make you feel exhausted at the prospect of what lies ahead. Alas, I must go on, for there's no turning back.
But before I do, I'm taking a sanity break and writing some mindless drivel. Please don't feel obliged to read it, it's purely for my own entertainment.
Oh alright - you glutton for punishment you. But don't say I didn't warn you. This is an idea I stole from Gem, who decided to conduct her own Good Weekend style interview. I've already done one of these but here's another. Cos I'm nothing if not original.
My Perfect Weekend
Jenny Wynter. Comedian, Writer, Mother and Mad-Woman.
If you could go anywhere for a weekend, where would it be?
Johnny Depp's bedroom. Oh sorry, did I type that out loud? Um...probably a beautiful beachy island (as opposed to those horrid non-beachy ones) where it's just me and Tim, endless buffets of non-fattening food (i.e. yummy food which would traditionally fatten you but here it just doesn't) and we can roam nudie and surf and stuff.
What's an ordinary weekend like?
About as far removed from the previous answer as you can get.
What do you do on a Saturday night?
You mean if I'm not gigging or fighting crime? We usually socialise as a family - usually anything from the whole clan descending on a party (the only people who love to carve up the dance floor more than I do are my kids) to having dinner and board-games with other families. We're so friendly like that.
How do you relax?
Relax? Que?
What's your biggest weekend indulgence?
My Saturday sleep-in. I wish I knew how to type Homer Simpson's reaction when he sees beer, cos that's exactly what I do when I think of sleeping in..ughhghghaahghghgllllleyooo.
What do you do and where do you go if you want to paint the town red?
I don't drink heaps anymore cos kids + hangovers = kill me, but usually a night out with my girlfriends + bar hopping + bad karaoke (as opposed to the Idol kind) = my kinda night.
What are you reading?
Some old journals of mine that I found while moving - so many random ideas, so little time.
What are you watching?
Not a lot lately, but before we left on our trip we were getting completely addicted to the second season of Lost.
What do you do if you're looking for inspiration?
Oh it's easy. I just yell "Inspiration? Inspiration! Come here this minute young man, or you're in time out!" That and I read the Nelson Mandela quote about allowing ourselves to be everything we can be. But the first one's much more fun, especially when the little bastard talks back.
What did the weekend mean to you when you were a kid?
Sleeping in. Ughhghghaahghghgllllleyooo.
Followed by mum getting disgusted by the laziness of the next generation, and proceeding to wake me up by entering the room and vacuuming. To this day, the sound of a vacuum cleaner gives me shudders.
Monday, December 11, 2006
It's Official: I'm a Scumbag
The only thing weirder than this "Brutally Honest Personality Test" is that I got almost identical results to the person whose blog I read it on!!! Thanks Rache!
| Scumbag- ENFP 73% Extraversion, 93% Intuition, 20% Thinking, 20% Judging |
| I have a feeling you're not going to like this much. Do I care? No. How do I know? It's because you hate criticism. You love to be loved and you'll do anything to be accepted. Unfortunately for you, I can see right through your insincere compliments and over-the-top greetings. No matter what you do, I'll always hate you for what you are. An arrogant, unstable, overly enthusiastic scumbag. I bet you're pretty proud of your accomplishments, huh? You seem to achieve at whatever you put your little mind too. Trust me. Nobody likes the person who is good at everything. NOBODY LIKES YOU. This might also have something to do with the fact that you're a cheating machine. You're just not the type of person to make long-term commitments. You enjoy seeing "what could be", rather than being satisfied with "what is." This, of course, means you often leave others in the dust while you seek out another lover. Well, at least you're not the one left in the dust. Unfortunately, when you're the one lying in the gutter with a bloody knife in your back, you might think differently. ***************** If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, check out this. ***************** The other personality types are as follows... Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving |
 |
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test written by UltimateMaster on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Enough of the Schmaltz Already!
We've wanted to move to the beach for as long as we've been together. It's where we fell in love, you see. Ah yes, I remember it just like it was...eight years ago.
The weekend trips to Byron Bay...
Renting out long-boards and surfing the waves...
Realising Tim's quirky factor was right up there upon sighting his new boardshorts in all their fluorescent orange glory. I'm not kidding - they made traffic lights look like beige pantyhose. I believe the ensuing conversation went something like:
Him - Check these out! I got them on sale for a bargain!
Me - WHAT? I'M SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER YOUR SHORTS!
Anyway, the point is, the beach has always been a very special place for us. And now finally, after years of thinking about it as this elusive 'wow' place, we're actually moving there.
It's like we've finally woken up and realised that our dreams of raising our kids at the beach need some serious action if they're to come true. Our kids are almost at school age already, after all (well, Ella is) and I REFUSE to wait until I'm battling arthritis to give myself permission to 'retire' to the coast. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen now.
The downside of course, is that most of my gigs these days are in Brisvegas - BUT...now we've got the van, commuting should be relatively manageable. Plus, I'll no doubt be a bit more selective in which gigs I take - probably a good thing. Plus I can finally focus myself and finish off some projects which are THIS close to finished but I just haven't had the time or energy to take them home to the finish line.
Plus...I cannot wait to get back into surfing - we did a bit on the recent tour and I'd forgotten how much I love it. I'm pretty crap at it, but just being out there clears the head and soothes the soul. Just like a good cough lolly, really. But less sticky.
My fabulously inspiring friends Lemm and Sian reminded me of a schmaltzy but cool story last night:
A dude is fishing off a pier, when he's approached by another guy. The guy says to him "wow, you should really start selling those fish, then you could invest what you make back into your business, hire some staff, grow it up and then sell it off, you could make a fortune!"
"Why would I want to do that?" says the fisherman.
"Well," says the man, "so you could afford to do the things you really want to do!"
"What?" says the fisherman, "you mean like go fishing off the pier?"
***
The Comic Mummy makes no apologies for the sickly sweet gooey nature of this story, but takes full responsibility for any happy warm feelings of fuzz generated as a result of reading it. Please direct all compliments to the comments section and all complaints to enoughoftheschmaltzalready@vomit.com
The weekend trips to Byron Bay...
Renting out long-boards and surfing the waves...
Realising Tim's quirky factor was right up there upon sighting his new boardshorts in all their fluorescent orange glory. I'm not kidding - they made traffic lights look like beige pantyhose. I believe the ensuing conversation went something like:
Him - Check these out! I got them on sale for a bargain!
Me - WHAT? I'M SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER YOUR SHORTS!
Anyway, the point is, the beach has always been a very special place for us. And now finally, after years of thinking about it as this elusive 'wow' place, we're actually moving there.
It's like we've finally woken up and realised that our dreams of raising our kids at the beach need some serious action if they're to come true. Our kids are almost at school age already, after all (well, Ella is) and I REFUSE to wait until I'm battling arthritis to give myself permission to 'retire' to the coast. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen now.
The downside of course, is that most of my gigs these days are in Brisvegas - BUT...now we've got the van, commuting should be relatively manageable. Plus, I'll no doubt be a bit more selective in which gigs I take - probably a good thing. Plus I can finally focus myself and finish off some projects which are THIS close to finished but I just haven't had the time or energy to take them home to the finish line.
Plus...I cannot wait to get back into surfing - we did a bit on the recent tour and I'd forgotten how much I love it. I'm pretty crap at it, but just being out there clears the head and soothes the soul. Just like a good cough lolly, really. But less sticky.
My fabulously inspiring friends Lemm and Sian reminded me of a schmaltzy but cool story last night:
A dude is fishing off a pier, when he's approached by another guy. The guy says to him "wow, you should really start selling those fish, then you could invest what you make back into your business, hire some staff, grow it up and then sell it off, you could make a fortune!"
"Why would I want to do that?" says the fisherman.
"Well," says the man, "so you could afford to do the things you really want to do!"
"What?" says the fisherman, "you mean like go fishing off the pier?"
***
The Comic Mummy makes no apologies for the sickly sweet gooey nature of this story, but takes full responsibility for any happy warm feelings of fuzz generated as a result of reading it. Please direct all compliments to the comments section and all complaints to enoughoftheschmaltzalready@vomit.com
Friday, December 08, 2006
Highlights of the final tour leg
- teaching Ella to ride waves on her boogie board.
- spending oodles (did I just say oodles?) yes, OODLES of time at the beach with the kids and actually having a few moments of realising that at that particular point in time, cuddling my kiddies and paddling around in the surf, that I felt completely and utterly happy.
- two absolutely kick-ass gigs in northern NSW, the first being a women's dinner at Nimbin, the other being a Wicked Women comedy night in Bangalow. Seriously, I am in LOVE with these audiences. Hubby, you should be seriously jealous.
- the van not breaking down even once.
- Ella's boogie board breaking - namely cos she started trying to stand up and surf on it. Needless to say we'll be putting Santa on the case.
- scoring a last-minute gig at the Gold Coast Arts Centre tonight. We were going to extend the trip another night but decided another caravan park was probably a little too exhausting in the name of saving a 40 minute drive, so we're now back home as of this avo, and I'm going to drive back. I'm so excited cos I'm supporting Sean Choolburra who I saw a year or so ago and LOVED. I think he's also on at Woodford...
- deflating slightly over the last few days in the realisation that the reality of day-to-day life is soon to hit. Or worse than day-to-day stuff, the reality of MOVING HOUSE.
Which, for those of you who've been kind enough to wonder (and please forgive me for the lack of comment replying - I do read and love all your comments and e-mails but I've just been a little backward on the internet thing lately for obvious reasons!), we are moving house...not for the oh wow I've been given the dream career break of a lifetime reasons, but for the oh wow let's have some downtime and raise our family the way we've always wanted to reasons: and are thus moving to the beach.
HOOORRRAAAYYYY!!!!!!!
I'll write more about this after someone donates me a case of energy drinks - but for now, know that the plan is to move out of here in a week, then be gypsies for a month (thanks to our trusty van who's been christened Connie the Econovan) then move up to the Sunshine Coast for the next 6 months to a year. Then...who knows? There's a few very cool possibilities in the pipeline but for now I'm keeping my cards close to my chest. But it's all mega mega exciting.
Okay, I'm gonna go crash now so I don't crash tonight. The car, I mean. Wish me luck.
- spending oodles (did I just say oodles?) yes, OODLES of time at the beach with the kids and actually having a few moments of realising that at that particular point in time, cuddling my kiddies and paddling around in the surf, that I felt completely and utterly happy.
- two absolutely kick-ass gigs in northern NSW, the first being a women's dinner at Nimbin, the other being a Wicked Women comedy night in Bangalow. Seriously, I am in LOVE with these audiences. Hubby, you should be seriously jealous.
- the van not breaking down even once.
- Ella's boogie board breaking - namely cos she started trying to stand up and surf on it. Needless to say we'll be putting Santa on the case.
- scoring a last-minute gig at the Gold Coast Arts Centre tonight. We were going to extend the trip another night but decided another caravan park was probably a little too exhausting in the name of saving a 40 minute drive, so we're now back home as of this avo, and I'm going to drive back. I'm so excited cos I'm supporting Sean Choolburra who I saw a year or so ago and LOVED. I think he's also on at Woodford...
- deflating slightly over the last few days in the realisation that the reality of day-to-day life is soon to hit. Or worse than day-to-day stuff, the reality of MOVING HOUSE.
Which, for those of you who've been kind enough to wonder (and please forgive me for the lack of comment replying - I do read and love all your comments and e-mails but I've just been a little backward on the internet thing lately for obvious reasons!), we are moving house...not for the oh wow I've been given the dream career break of a lifetime reasons, but for the oh wow let's have some downtime and raise our family the way we've always wanted to reasons: and are thus moving to the beach.
HOOORRRAAAYYYY!!!!!!!
I'll write more about this after someone donates me a case of energy drinks - but for now, know that the plan is to move out of here in a week, then be gypsies for a month (thanks to our trusty van who's been christened Connie the Econovan) then move up to the Sunshine Coast for the next 6 months to a year. Then...who knows? There's a few very cool possibilities in the pipeline but for now I'm keeping my cards close to my chest. But it's all mega mega exciting.
Okay, I'm gonna go crash now so I don't crash tonight. The car, I mean. Wish me luck.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Awesome Kids and Trampolining Basil
So my gorgeous and thoughtful Mezz brought up the issue of the kids and how they've been enjoying the trip - it's not that I've been trying to ignore that side of things in my blog, it's just that I've been so damn flat out just blogging even a smidgeon of the career stuff (which I assume most people would rather read about than for instance, Ella's bowel updates) and just, you know, living life, that I realise I actually have overlooked it.
So...for those of you who care:
The kids have been awesome. If, by awesome, you mean 'LOVING the travel experience but throwing frequent tantrums and fighting over who gets to be in the middle.'
"In the middle of what?" you might ask.
Welcome to my world.
I have no idea what this elusive 'middle' is and why it is so important, but apparently it's worth fighting for. A lot.
But yeah...they've been awesome.
The past few days then in a nutshell:
Saturday
Met up with the lovely Rachel Hills for a morning cafe jaunt in Glebe, followed by a rain-soaked expedition to the markets with Tim and the kiddlies, then later that night hit the National TheatreSports Championships Grand Final, to which John Knowles (Head of Impro Australia) had so kindly offered me a free ticket. Talk about a production - wow. Aside from the actual improv itself, the presentation of the entire show, from the MCs to the scorers to the judges (all of whom were in French Revolution attire) was just schmick. Bravo. Bravo. Bravo.
Sunday
Decided to use our final morning in Sydney as my first opportunity to set my alarm by Queensland time (which for the uninitiated, is an hour behind Sydney time), thus resulting in a mad breakfast-neglected holy-crappified panicked trip (I think my exact words were "You dress the kids, I'll pack the stuff and let's get the hell outta here!") to catch our 9.06am train to go pick up our van.
We made our train and before embarking on our next driving jaunt, spent the morning hanging out with my gorgeous and inspiring friends Nick and Jemima (who actually used to be friends with my mum) in their magical cottage up in the rural hills of Mulgoa. Then onto a tantrum-filled drive up to my other friends' place in an absolutely cuter than cute little town...in fact, just plain GORGEOUS Tea Gardens. That's the name of the place, seriously. Isn't that so Enid Blyton? Or something?
Monday
Hung out more at Tea Gardens - which, if it weren't for being just a little too far from a major city and not having bigger surf, Tim and I agreed we would desperately love to move to - then drove up to Forster where we let the kids run riot at the beach (Ella has fallen completely head over heels for swimming in the sea-bath, or what the locals affectionately refer to as "the Bull Ring") and then were reunited with Tim's cousin Joel and his partner April's family - we cooked curry while the kids proceeded to pull apart the family's basil bush and jump with the leaves on the trampoline.
I gotta tell you - turns out trampolining herbs is surprisingly effective. Not only did it crush everything to perfection but the place smelt great.
Tomorrow
We're hanging out here for a bit, then driving north to some unknown destination to camp the night. Then Byron on Wednesday - I have a gig at Nimbin Wed night, then one at Bangalow Thursday night, then home again to Brisbane on Friday.
We then have a whole WEEK in which to pack up our house and move out.
"Moving where?" you might ask.
Well, that's going to be a whole new adventure.......
So...for those of you who care:
The kids have been awesome. If, by awesome, you mean 'LOVING the travel experience but throwing frequent tantrums and fighting over who gets to be in the middle.'
"In the middle of what?" you might ask.
Welcome to my world.
I have no idea what this elusive 'middle' is and why it is so important, but apparently it's worth fighting for. A lot.
But yeah...they've been awesome.
The past few days then in a nutshell:
Saturday
Met up with the lovely Rachel Hills for a morning cafe jaunt in Glebe, followed by a rain-soaked expedition to the markets with Tim and the kiddlies, then later that night hit the National TheatreSports Championships Grand Final, to which John Knowles (Head of Impro Australia) had so kindly offered me a free ticket. Talk about a production - wow. Aside from the actual improv itself, the presentation of the entire show, from the MCs to the scorers to the judges (all of whom were in French Revolution attire) was just schmick. Bravo. Bravo. Bravo.
Sunday
Decided to use our final morning in Sydney as my first opportunity to set my alarm by Queensland time (which for the uninitiated, is an hour behind Sydney time), thus resulting in a mad breakfast-neglected holy-crappified panicked trip (I think my exact words were "You dress the kids, I'll pack the stuff and let's get the hell outta here!") to catch our 9.06am train to go pick up our van.
We made our train and before embarking on our next driving jaunt, spent the morning hanging out with my gorgeous and inspiring friends Nick and Jemima (who actually used to be friends with my mum) in their magical cottage up in the rural hills of Mulgoa. Then onto a tantrum-filled drive up to my other friends' place in an absolutely cuter than cute little town...in fact, just plain GORGEOUS Tea Gardens. That's the name of the place, seriously. Isn't that so Enid Blyton? Or something?
Monday
Hung out more at Tea Gardens - which, if it weren't for being just a little too far from a major city and not having bigger surf, Tim and I agreed we would desperately love to move to - then drove up to Forster where we let the kids run riot at the beach (Ella has fallen completely head over heels for swimming in the sea-bath, or what the locals affectionately refer to as "the Bull Ring") and then were reunited with Tim's cousin Joel and his partner April's family - we cooked curry while the kids proceeded to pull apart the family's basil bush and jump with the leaves on the trampoline.
I gotta tell you - turns out trampolining herbs is surprisingly effective. Not only did it crush everything to perfection but the place smelt great.
Tomorrow
We're hanging out here for a bit, then driving north to some unknown destination to camp the night. Then Byron on Wednesday - I have a gig at Nimbin Wed night, then one at Bangalow Thursday night, then home again to Brisbane on Friday.
We then have a whole WEEK in which to pack up our house and move out.
"Moving where?" you might ask.
Well, that's going to be a whole new adventure.......
Friday, December 01, 2006
The Final Glass House Episode: a debrief
Oh boy. I don't even know where to start - at the risk of sounding like a completely conceited twat, the final night was just so filled with amazing moments that I'm hesitant to even try to recount it for the inevitability of omitting some cool bits. But...in short, the show was awesome, Tim and I watched it from the celebrity-filled green room (glasses of red in hand) and the biggest buzz ever (aside from congratulating Adam Spencer in person on getting away with calling Kyle Sandilands a c*** on national television) was seeing my sweated out jokes actually getting laughter - and occasionally even applause - from the audience. Whoa.
I also had the great privilege of videoing some behind-the-scenes action including the rehearsals for the final show. Other specific moments worth mentioning I will write here in bullet-point form, no less and in no particular order:
I also had the great privilege of videoing some behind-the-scenes action including the rehearsals for the final show. Other specific moments worth mentioning I will write here in bullet-point form, no less and in no particular order:
- rocked up a the ABC studios, walked straight past Dave Hughes in his dressing room, reading through the script. Dave wins my award for the friendliest famous person I've ever met - minutes later he strolled into the green room, looked at me and went "Hello! What's going on? What's your name?" and shook my hand. Later in the night when I went to say goodbye to him, he remembered my name and I told him "I've just given my hubby the biggest rap about you being not only the funniest but the friendliest comic I've met."
"Well, good!" he smiled.
I then pried my foot out of my mouth after realising I'd just said that as Arj Barker stood beside him.
"Hi Arj," I said, shaking his hand. - said hi to Corinne Grant (who, even though I'd met her before, I introduced myself to anyway - after a warning from my good friend and hilarious muso comic Dave Eastgate not to assume that famous people will remember you after a 5 minute meeting) who not only remembered me but let me get changed in her dressing room. Tres tres cool. As I approached her at the after-party to say goodbye, she was being gushed over by a young girl fan, who proceeded to thank her for not being prissy and worrying too much about how she looked, like some of the other guests (one of whom she named, but I won't). Corinne immediately stepped to said lady's defence - in a very nice and un-offensive way - which fully impressed me, given how passive aggressive us ladies can be at times.
- had a lovely time catching up with Fiona O'Loughlin (who really inspired me to go into comedy after seeing her on the Comedy Gala on TV a few years back) and told her I'm going to be supporting her at the Bangalow Big Joke Fest in February. She was all "that's fantastic! Oh I'm so glad you'll be there, we'll have a great time!"
- Georgie Parker got my other vote as one of the friendliest - if not a little hyper - celebs I've met. She caught my eye in the green room, smiled and said "Hello, I'm Georgie." We chatted for a bit, she told me about her kid "one's enough!" she laughed and her dismay at people calling her "Georgia" and other variations thereof.
I dunno...I'm starting to feel like a cheap media slorry just name-spilling like this. Kerry-Anne Kennerley seemed lovely and un-diva-like...what else? I dunno...suffice to say that indulging in the pre-show dinner buffet sitting shoulders' distance from Kochy, Merv Hughes, Rhys Muldoon and others was just a bit surreal. The coolest part was that Tim was more star-struck than I was. It's funny too, to think that this is my second celeb-filled function of the year (the first being the Comedy Fest Gala after-party), but this time it went up a notch, from just ogeling people I know from the telly to actually having conversations with them.
Wil was the last person I said goodbye to: "did you get any jokes in?" he asked, giving me a hug.
"Yeah, I did actually - that was awesome."
And on that note I'm chuffed to tell you that the jokes that made the final show included the closer of Wil's monologue: "Politicians called for the axeing of Big Brother but denied calling for the axeing of The Glass House - turns out you can turkey-slap on national television, so long as the turkey's not a member of Parliament"
and the final joke of the show, in the headlines:
Bracks: "Howard won election for me."
Howard: "Thought I was SMSing Australian Idol."
There was also one of the video clips in there about Beazley photocopying his arse, plus a bit of a smuttier one about Greg Norman and the Olsen twins that got a good laugh on the night but didn't make it to air!!
Then right at the end of the shooting of the episode, all of us in the Green Room got called in to go onstage for the finale streamered goodbye, which, as you'll know if you saw the episode, really involved so much confetti that I might as well have asked you to all "tune into the blizzard and look out for me in a black dress!" Hehe, oh well, it was certainly a buzz.
This was followed by the after-party upstairs in the ABC building for some speeches from all the guys, including this cracker from Dave Hughes: "I'd like to thank the ABC who were actually very supportive of us in our early years. They took us like a little seed, and watered us and helped us grow, and waited until we became like a beautiful oak tree...until deciding to sell us to the Japanese as mulch!"
I am so bummed I didn't have my camera there to capture the look on Courtney Gibson's (head of ABC Arts, Entertainment & Comedy) face.
All in all, what an unbelievable privilege, to be a witness to - and a part of - such a big event in TV.
I hope it's not all downhill from here.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The Glass House Final Episode!!
Oh boy - last night was mega-amazing.
More confetti than outfits worn by Posh Spice, more stars than the American flag and more red wine than the Last Supper (though by all accounts that last one doesn't really work, seeing as there was probably only one big glass that everybody passed around.)
My full breakdown will appear here in the next couple of days or so, but the bottom line for now is aimed at those who are actually watching the show tonight: if you look right at the end, when everybody comes out on stage for the grand streamer-throwing finale - I'm onstage to the right (i.e. just to the right and slightly behind Dave Hughes and Fiona O'Loughlin.)
Extra hint for the keen - I'm wearing a black dress and looking star-struck.
That's just for those of you who actually care enough to check. For all others, just carry on as planned.
More confetti than outfits worn by Posh Spice, more stars than the American flag and more red wine than the Last Supper (though by all accounts that last one doesn't really work, seeing as there was probably only one big glass that everybody passed around.)
My full breakdown will appear here in the next couple of days or so, but the bottom line for now is aimed at those who are actually watching the show tonight: if you look right at the end, when everybody comes out on stage for the grand streamer-throwing finale - I'm onstage to the right (i.e. just to the right and slightly behind Dave Hughes and Fiona O'Loughlin.)
Extra hint for the keen - I'm wearing a black dress and looking star-struck.
That's just for those of you who actually care enough to check. For all others, just carry on as planned.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Tonight's the Night!
Or tomorrow, really for you guys wanting to tune in for the final episode EVER of The Glass House. But tonight's the recording of the show - my excitement at it being an apparently glam affair is tempered somewhat by the realisation that even if I had more glam stuff in my wardrobe, I have neglected to pack it.
So...time to get creative.
Yesterday comprised an early start for more up-to-date headline writing, followed by some more story stuff - then the more fun part: the read-through of the first draft. Basically this involved all the writers, the producers & Wil Anderson sitting round a table in a tiny room to - funnily enough - read through the script. We then went through it again, with Wil shortlisting his favourite gags, which will make it through to the next draft. Just like Idol really.
Personally, while only a very small portion of my jokes got into the script (I guess a given, seeing as I've written a good 20 A4 pages of one-liners this week), the upside was that of the jokes I wrote, Wil selected almost all of them to go through to the next round! So all in all I'm pretty stoked.
So...time to get creative.
Yesterday comprised an early start for more up-to-date headline writing, followed by some more story stuff - then the more fun part: the read-through of the first draft. Basically this involved all the writers, the producers & Wil Anderson sitting round a table in a tiny room to - funnily enough - read through the script. We then went through it again, with Wil shortlisting his favourite gags, which will make it through to the next draft. Just like Idol really.
Personally, while only a very small portion of my jokes got into the script (I guess a given, seeing as I've written a good 20 A4 pages of one-liners this week), the upside was that of the jokes I wrote, Wil selected almost all of them to go through to the next round! So all in all I'm pretty stoked.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow and Beyond
Yesterday - reunited with family. Our reunion started with a ride on the merry go round at Fox Studios. Needless to say, the kids are VERY impressed with Sydney.
Today - dropping our van out at my friends' place in Mulgoa (near Penrith: a farm, very pretty) so it doesn't get its windows smashed in at our Glebe abode. We've spent the time drinking copious amounts of red wine (today Ella asked me "why do you adults like drinking so much of the red drink?" and swimming in the dam. Not in that order. Hence, I'm still here.
Tomorrow - catching the train into the City. Hoping to do the ferry ride thing and possibly a visit to the Zoo.
Beyond - back to The Glass House, where things look to get a bit more exciting - we're doing a read-through with the guys, then Tuesday is rehearsal at ABC studios, then of course, the recording that night!
Adieu.
Today - dropping our van out at my friends' place in Mulgoa (near Penrith: a farm, very pretty) so it doesn't get its windows smashed in at our Glebe abode. We've spent the time drinking copious amounts of red wine (today Ella asked me "why do you adults like drinking so much of the red drink?" and swimming in the dam. Not in that order. Hence, I'm still here.
Tomorrow - catching the train into the City. Hoping to do the ferry ride thing and possibly a visit to the Zoo.
Beyond - back to The Glass House, where things look to get a bit more exciting - we're doing a read-through with the guys, then Tuesday is rehearsal at ABC studios, then of course, the recording that night!
Adieu.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Star-Struckedness, The Comedy Store and Kitty Flanagan
Man, yesterday rocked the kazbah.
During another day full of more joke-writing (which, by the way, is working wonders for my ability to push past writers’ block), I was actually in the same room as Scott Hicks. That may or may not mean anything to you, but the point is, he’s the director of Shine, one of my all-time favourite films and if this had been ten years ago the sight of him would have made me lactate.
Wow.
I’m guessing that he and Pip Karmel (Shine editor: spotted yesterday: update - I actually met her and introduced myself today!!) are working on a film together here. I know, I know, I’m Sherlock Holmes.
Update: I'm pretty sure the film is called "No Reservations" starring Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Anyway, after that sugary high, I ventured off to kill time at Fox Studios before my gig at The Comedy Store. I hung out, had a beer, rang the fam (who wasn’t there :-( ) rang my Mum (who was there :-) ) and wrote a bit of my own stuff.
Then…onto The Comedy Store. Ah, what a room. I officially want to move in.
First, there was the delight of reuniting with my old uni pal Steve, who I haven’t seen in nine years. He’d apparently tracked me down online, seen the gig on tonight and decided to come along. Serious spin outage.
We chatted, and then I headed backstage to get ready. What can I say? The room rocked. I had a brilliant time, a brilliant crowd and a brilliant beer when I clocked off. Had a nice little chat to Kitty Flanagan (whose intro as ‘one of the best female comedians in Australia’ almost certainly didn’t need the ‘female’ qualification: she just plain rules) who shared with me a bit about comedy in the UK. At the risk of sounding clichéd, I just found her incredibly friendly and unpretentious – both qualities I’m coming to value more and more.
So tonight it’s onto the Mic in Hand – my last Sydney stand-up gig for the tour.
Then Friday, I’m finally being reunited with my gorgeous hubby and kiddlies!!!!!!!!!!
Life is looking good.
I surrender: I am a walking cliché.
During another day full of more joke-writing (which, by the way, is working wonders for my ability to push past writers’ block), I was actually in the same room as Scott Hicks. That may or may not mean anything to you, but the point is, he’s the director of Shine, one of my all-time favourite films and if this had been ten years ago the sight of him would have made me lactate.
Wow.
I’m guessing that he and Pip Karmel (Shine editor: spotted yesterday: update - I actually met her and introduced myself today!!) are working on a film together here. I know, I know, I’m Sherlock Holmes.
Update: I'm pretty sure the film is called "No Reservations" starring Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Anyway, after that sugary high, I ventured off to kill time at Fox Studios before my gig at The Comedy Store. I hung out, had a beer, rang the fam (who wasn’t there :-( ) rang my Mum (who was there :-) ) and wrote a bit of my own stuff.
Then…onto The Comedy Store. Ah, what a room. I officially want to move in.
First, there was the delight of reuniting with my old uni pal Steve, who I haven’t seen in nine years. He’d apparently tracked me down online, seen the gig on tonight and decided to come along. Serious spin outage.
We chatted, and then I headed backstage to get ready. What can I say? The room rocked. I had a brilliant time, a brilliant crowd and a brilliant beer when I clocked off. Had a nice little chat to Kitty Flanagan (whose intro as ‘one of the best female comedians in Australia’ almost certainly didn’t need the ‘female’ qualification: she just plain rules) who shared with me a bit about comedy in the UK. At the risk of sounding clichéd, I just found her incredibly friendly and unpretentious – both qualities I’m coming to value more and more.
So tonight it’s onto the Mic in Hand – my last Sydney stand-up gig for the tour.
Then Friday, I’m finally being reunited with my gorgeous hubby and kiddlies!!!!!!!!!!
Life is looking good.
I surrender: I am a walking cliché.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A Breakdown of the Day That Was
8am - We rock up and get straight into headlines writing for the next day's show
*For those of you who are interested it airs tonight.
9.30am We hand in our headlines to Ian Simmons (Senior Writer) and sit down together to watch some television footage he's compiled, to use as the punch-lines for the video jokes segment of the show.
9.50am - 11-ish - We write, write, write. I realise that while the Headlines are fun, I find the video stuff is right up my alley. I LOVE writing in this format - it's so fun playing around with different possibilities. The three of us sit heads down at our computers, having the odd mental breather with a game of Solitaire, writing like crazy with the odd interruption when somebody chuckles. I recall my Second City comedy writing tutor telling us to first and foremost, write to amuse yourselves!
11.05ish - Ian calls us in to look at some celeb pictures to choose from to comedically 'caption'. Ian really seems to respect the writers' opinion and treats the process democratically. We each give our two cents' worth, come up with a selection and then go forth to write captions.
1.10pm - Lunch! I sit down in the main area and can't help overhearing the guy at the table next to me introduce his dining partner to another guy: "This is Pip Karmel," he says. My ears prick up: Pip Karmel, the Editor of Shine! I was such a massive fan of this film and in my film geeky days (which in all honesty, have never really ended) I did a whole assignment on it, not the least aspect of which was how cool the editing was. I look over and feel a little star-struck. Will that never end?
I am soon joined by Pam (Glasshouse producer) and Deb (Production Manager) who are both not only very chatty and lovely, but are both coming to Woodford, where I'll be performing this year!
1.44pm - Back to the writing! I'm already recognising my own natural writing rhythms: I write TONS in the morning, the ideas really flow, but by mid-afternoon my mind starts to fizzle. In some ways it feels like trying to wring out a wet rag - at first there's tons, even too much stuff coming out, but by the end you're applying every bit of pressure you can and nothing's coming out except for the odd drop.
4.18pm - I print out my stuff, save my disk and hand it all to Ian. We sit down and have a bit of a chat, with him pointing out some of the headlines he enjoyed (he even tells me that one of them will be on the GlassHouse website in the next couple of days! That it means something cool to me exposes me for the lamo I really am) and then we chat about comedy and writing in general.
4.42pm - I head home, ready to freshen up before my first Sydney gig.
7.03pm - I start walking to the gig.
7.32pm - Still walking.
7.42pm - I realise I'm lost.
7.43pm - I ask for directions at a 7-11 and they give them to me. Unfortunately, they're bad ones.
7.55pm - I'm still lost and starting to panic as the gig starts at 8!
7.57pm - I ask a spritely young blonde chick for directions: finally, someone helpful! Turns out she's not only walking in the general direction but used to live in the exact street I'm looking for. We chat, she guides, we part.
8.06pm - I arrive for my spot at Comedy on the Edge in Darlinghurst. Phew!
8.08pm - After climbing the three flights of stairs to get into the room, I realise that not only does the gig not start til 8.30, but I am covered in sweat.
8.34pm - The gig begins...Dave Bloustien (also Writer on The Glass House) is MC, followed by various up-and-coming comics (most of whom, I think have been doing it for only a year or less) and finally, moi. It's a really fun, low-pressure night: a nice way to kick off. I already notice a stylistic difference in the Sydney scene - it seems like it's very much punchline-punchline-punchline focused, rather than stories and so on.
10.36pm - A couple of the comedians and myself head home together (no, not in that way, you evil fiends) and stop for a bite to eat along the way. So now I'm officially an ambassador for warm fuzzy Brissie/Sydney relations. Dig it.
11.48pm - I crash. Finally. In a big way.
*For those of you who are interested it airs tonight.
9.30am We hand in our headlines to Ian Simmons (Senior Writer) and sit down together to watch some television footage he's compiled, to use as the punch-lines for the video jokes segment of the show.
9.50am - 11-ish - We write, write, write. I realise that while the Headlines are fun, I find the video stuff is right up my alley. I LOVE writing in this format - it's so fun playing around with different possibilities. The three of us sit heads down at our computers, having the odd mental breather with a game of Solitaire, writing like crazy with the odd interruption when somebody chuckles. I recall my Second City comedy writing tutor telling us to first and foremost, write to amuse yourselves!
11.05ish - Ian calls us in to look at some celeb pictures to choose from to comedically 'caption'. Ian really seems to respect the writers' opinion and treats the process democratically. We each give our two cents' worth, come up with a selection and then go forth to write captions.
1.10pm - Lunch! I sit down in the main area and can't help overhearing the guy at the table next to me introduce his dining partner to another guy: "This is Pip Karmel," he says. My ears prick up: Pip Karmel, the Editor of Shine! I was such a massive fan of this film and in my film geeky days (which in all honesty, have never really ended) I did a whole assignment on it, not the least aspect of which was how cool the editing was. I look over and feel a little star-struck. Will that never end?
I am soon joined by Pam (Glasshouse producer) and Deb (Production Manager) who are both not only very chatty and lovely, but are both coming to Woodford, where I'll be performing this year!
1.44pm - Back to the writing! I'm already recognising my own natural writing rhythms: I write TONS in the morning, the ideas really flow, but by mid-afternoon my mind starts to fizzle. In some ways it feels like trying to wring out a wet rag - at first there's tons, even too much stuff coming out, but by the end you're applying every bit of pressure you can and nothing's coming out except for the odd drop.
4.18pm - I print out my stuff, save my disk and hand it all to Ian. We sit down and have a bit of a chat, with him pointing out some of the headlines he enjoyed (he even tells me that one of them will be on the GlassHouse website in the next couple of days! That it means something cool to me exposes me for the lamo I really am) and then we chat about comedy and writing in general.
4.42pm - I head home, ready to freshen up before my first Sydney gig.
7.03pm - I start walking to the gig.
7.32pm - Still walking.
7.42pm - I realise I'm lost.
7.43pm - I ask for directions at a 7-11 and they give them to me. Unfortunately, they're bad ones.
7.55pm - I'm still lost and starting to panic as the gig starts at 8!
7.57pm - I ask a spritely young blonde chick for directions: finally, someone helpful! Turns out she's not only walking in the general direction but used to live in the exact street I'm looking for. We chat, she guides, we part.
8.06pm - I arrive for my spot at Comedy on the Edge in Darlinghurst. Phew!
8.08pm - After climbing the three flights of stairs to get into the room, I realise that not only does the gig not start til 8.30, but I am covered in sweat.
8.34pm - The gig begins...Dave Bloustien (also Writer on The Glass House) is MC, followed by various up-and-coming comics (most of whom, I think have been doing it for only a year or less) and finally, moi. It's a really fun, low-pressure night: a nice way to kick off. I already notice a stylistic difference in the Sydney scene - it seems like it's very much punchline-punchline-punchline focused, rather than stories and so on.
10.36pm - A couple of the comedians and myself head home together (no, not in that way, you evil fiends) and stop for a bite to eat along the way. So now I'm officially an ambassador for warm fuzzy Brissie/Sydney relations. Dig it.
11.48pm - I crash. Finally. In a big way.
Monday, November 20, 2006
First Day on The Glass House
One day down, seven to go. I think. But who's counting?
I rocked up at Fox Studios smack bang on 9 o'clock this morning, after catching a bus with not one, but two Big Brother auditionees (apparently the BB auditions are happening at Fox Studios for the next few days). We chatted en route, until I stopped off. As they started to follow me in, I felt part cool and part wanker having to say "uh, sorry, this is the professional entrance..."
Hehe.
As I trundled on through the Fox back-lot, I had serious flashbacks to my time here during Tropnest, all the way back in 99 (for those of you who aren't familiar with it, Tropfest used to run a screenwriting program called Tropnest, which entailed spending 6 weeks writing in a cute little cottage right up the back of Fox Studios. It was very very cool of course; I used to walk past the Moulin Rouge set every single day) but since that time a LOT has changed! New sets, new buildings...but still that same sense of excitement of being a very small cog in the enormous filmmaking wheel.
Ian Simmons (The Glass House's Senior Writer) met me and gave me the grand tour of the Good News Week TV office - it's up the back of a building full of other offices, with common essentials: you know, bathrooms, vending machines, cappucino maker. Aaah. The GNWTV office itself was quite large, rather funky (as expected) and colourful, with the walls being plastered with A1 pictures of Corinne, Dave & Wil (who, by the way, were not in today) plus special guests, not to mention old goodies from the Good News Week team. I haven't even had a chance to check 'em all out yet. There's also the enormous stash of newspapers and mags - i.e. the inspiration pile.
Ian sat me down then and went through the basics of writing for the show, i.e.
I rocked up at Fox Studios smack bang on 9 o'clock this morning, after catching a bus with not one, but two Big Brother auditionees (apparently the BB auditions are happening at Fox Studios for the next few days). We chatted en route, until I stopped off. As they started to follow me in, I felt part cool and part wanker having to say "uh, sorry, this is the professional entrance..."
Hehe.
As I trundled on through the Fox back-lot, I had serious flashbacks to my time here during Tropnest, all the way back in 99 (for those of you who aren't familiar with it, Tropfest used to run a screenwriting program called Tropnest, which entailed spending 6 weeks writing in a cute little cottage right up the back of Fox Studios. It was very very cool of course; I used to walk past the Moulin Rouge set every single day) but since that time a LOT has changed! New sets, new buildings...but still that same sense of excitement of being a very small cog in the enormous filmmaking wheel.
Ian Simmons (The Glass House's Senior Writer) met me and gave me the grand tour of the Good News Week TV office - it's up the back of a building full of other offices, with common essentials: you know, bathrooms, vending machines, cappucino maker. Aaah. The GNWTV office itself was quite large, rather funky (as expected) and colourful, with the walls being plastered with A1 pictures of Corinne, Dave & Wil (who, by the way, were not in today) plus special guests, not to mention old goodies from the Good News Week team. I haven't even had a chance to check 'em all out yet. There's also the enormous stash of newspapers and mags - i.e. the inspiration pile.
Ian sat me down then and went through the basics of writing for the show, i.e.
- write conversationally;
- write exactly as you want it to be delivered (no abbrev. or bullet points) ;-)
- the shorter the better;
- that said, don't censor yourself as you're writing.
He then went over the stuff we'd be working on for the day - the 'summing up the year' monologue for Wil, plus starting to source some focused stories of the week to write gags about. I was then introduced to the other guys on the writing team, Steve and the lovely Dave (who I met last year at TINA). We have our own writers' office, three computers in a row all lined up together. Isn't that quaint.
We all set to work going through the newspapers and mags and taking notes of possible stories. Ian came in at 10 for our first writers' meeting of the week, wherein we all threw our ideas in the pot, made comments and spent the rest of the day continuing to write jokes and bits based on the stories that came up.
Of course, the typical writers' neuroses came into play (from my end, anyway!)
Will I be able to write anything funny?
Will I be able to write ANYTHING?
And happily, the answer was yes. At least to the second bit. The first bit...well, I guess only time will tell. It's amazing though - having the designated 'job' to write, with all of you in the same room, is very motivating. Even if most of my jokes don't make it to the show (which obviously they won't - we're generating far too much material, the idea being that the more you write, the more chance you have of finding those bits of 'gold') then I'm going to walk away with quite a bit of new material for my stand-up!
They also operate on a trust system, in that you can leave whenever you feel that you've completely exhausted yourself writing-wise. "Some days it might be four o'clock, some days it might be two o'clock, and either is fine," Ian told me.
At around 3.30, I printed out my three odd pages of gags, saved them to disk and handed them to Ian. Phew! Note that out of all those jokes, there's probably only one that I feel really stoked with. But it's a good place to start. And I've realised again how much I LOVE writing.
Tomorrow, it's an early start - 8am we're having a "headlines writing" session, followed by watching some video snippets. Or so I believe.
And then tomorrow night, my first Sydney comedy gig at Comedy On the Edge.
Stay tuned!
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Faulty Towers, Forster and gearing up for Sydney
The past couple of days, in a lovely sugar-coated nutshell:
- the requisite 7+ hours drive from Byron to Forster was surprisingly pleasant, broken up by only a couple of tantrum-stops along the way. The kids are actually proving themselves to be very cool travellers: the offer of a lolly-pop is all it takes to tow them into line. Some might call it bribery...I call it positive reinforcement. Look out: this blog might hereby be re-christened The Tot Whisperer.
- upon our arrival in our very cute destination, I headed almost directly to the local RSL - no, not for a beer, you damn cynics - but for a gig. It was the most fun I've had performing in ages, in the Fawlty Towers show for Interactive Theatre, with whom I've been performing a fair bit lately. I play Mrs Richards, an annoying, hard-of-hearing old biddy - what a delight, if not a glimpse into my own future.
- spent much of this morning on the beach with the kiddly-winks, where our delight at showing them the wonders of the rockpools was tempered somewhat by that painstaking parental paranoia of keeping an eye out for blue-ringed octapii. I hate that.
- hung out with Joel and April (Tim's cousin and his partner) and their two little ones for the rest of the day, alternating between conversation and preventing child-on-child-slaughter - you'll be happy to know I succeeded, little achievement addict that I am - and finally, booked my bus ticket down to Sydney. Because, alas alack, for various reasons we have realised it will in all likelihood be more enjoyable for all if Tim and the kids hang in child-friendly beach-filled Forster for a few more days, while I rock off to Glasshouse and gig land, with all of us anticipating the end of the week when we will enjoy the most thrillingly wonderful reunion since Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta did their whole Grease reprisal. (Didn't they?)
So tomorrow morning, 10.40am...I'm on my way. See ya in Sydney!
- the requisite 7+ hours drive from Byron to Forster was surprisingly pleasant, broken up by only a couple of tantrum-stops along the way. The kids are actually proving themselves to be very cool travellers: the offer of a lolly-pop is all it takes to tow them into line. Some might call it bribery...I call it positive reinforcement. Look out: this blog might hereby be re-christened The Tot Whisperer.
- upon our arrival in our very cute destination, I headed almost directly to the local RSL - no, not for a beer, you damn cynics - but for a gig. It was the most fun I've had performing in ages, in the Fawlty Towers show for Interactive Theatre, with whom I've been performing a fair bit lately. I play Mrs Richards, an annoying, hard-of-hearing old biddy - what a delight, if not a glimpse into my own future.- spent much of this morning on the beach with the kiddly-winks, where our delight at showing them the wonders of the rockpools was tempered somewhat by that painstaking parental paranoia of keeping an eye out for blue-ringed octapii. I hate that.
- hung out with Joel and April (Tim's cousin and his partner) and their two little ones for the rest of the day, alternating between conversation and preventing child-on-child-slaughter - you'll be happy to know I succeeded, little achievement addict that I am - and finally, booked my bus ticket down to Sydney. Because, alas alack, for various reasons we have realised it will in all likelihood be more enjoyable for all if Tim and the kids hang in child-friendly beach-filled Forster for a few more days, while I rock off to Glasshouse and gig land, with all of us anticipating the end of the week when we will enjoy the most thrillingly wonderful reunion since Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta did their whole Grease reprisal. (Didn't they?)
So tomorrow morning, 10.40am...I'm on my way. See ya in Sydney!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
This tour is happening rain, hail or shine
Nothing less than rain, hail AND shine greeted us upon our drive into our first stop en route to Sydney - Byron Bay had a freaky sun-shower/hail-storm, which we stupidly decided to keep on driving through (stupidly in retrospect; at the time we were just hell-bent on getting to our destination). We actually witnessed the Kombi van in front of us slide off the road and veer into the car in front – a pretty turbulent trip in all.
On the upside, the noise of the thunder and hail drowned out all child-whingeing. Hey, every hail-cloud has a silver lining.
But…in short, we’re here in Byron Bay (Broken Head, to be precise) and loving it. Already we’re flirting with the idea of doing a full-on Aussie tour soon, so much are we loving the van and the thought of comedy-funded life on the road. The kids are completely digging it too. They love sleeping in the van (a little too much, actually, with Caleb expressing his elation by kicking me in the head most of last night) and are both pretty cool and adaptable little travelers. We spent most of yesterday afternoon and this morning frolicking on the beach – including Tim and I doing a spot of surfing for the first time in six + years. Righteous, dude.
In other news:
- I’ve just found out more details on Bangalow Comedy Festival (where I’m performing in February) and the latest is that on Saturday 10th Feb I’ll be supporting none other than the fabulous Fiona O’Loughlin! I’m so thrilled – I first saw Fiona on the televised comedy gala back in 2002 and loved her stuff, then interviewed her for a book a year or so later, and now here we’ll be. Just wicked.
- I’ve been booked to do some stand-up up at a Women’s Dinner for Domestic Violence awareness in Nimbin; the timing has worked out brilliantly, such that we can do it on the way back up to Brisbane. Magic.
- my hair has flipped out all nutty-like on me – so if you do have allergies, please back away slowly – doing its usual “we’re at the beach Jen so it’s time to get all wacky and curly” tantrum on me. I don’t mind too much, as I’ve been in the mood for a change and it’s cheaper than a stylist.
- the van is going well and the novelty is yet to wear off. MASSIVE kudos to my uncle Dave and auntie Deb for donating their entire Saturday to help me get it in order and ready for action!
- we’re having an awesome and relaxing time catching up with Tim’s sister Cat and her lovelier than lovely boyfriend Dave; hopefully we’ll be going for another surf with them this afternoon. I do so love pretending to be a beach bum. Well, you know, pretending to be the ‘beach’ part.
- I LOVE LIFE ON THE ROAD!!!!!!!!! I don’t ever want to stop – then again, I guess it is only day two.
Stay tuned!
On the upside, the noise of the thunder and hail drowned out all child-whingeing. Hey, every hail-cloud has a silver lining.
But…in short, we’re here in Byron Bay (Broken Head, to be precise) and loving it. Already we’re flirting with the idea of doing a full-on Aussie tour soon, so much are we loving the van and the thought of comedy-funded life on the road. The kids are completely digging it too. They love sleeping in the van (a little too much, actually, with Caleb expressing his elation by kicking me in the head most of last night) and are both pretty cool and adaptable little travelers. We spent most of yesterday afternoon and this morning frolicking on the beach – including Tim and I doing a spot of surfing for the first time in six + years. Righteous, dude.
In other news:
- I’ve just found out more details on Bangalow Comedy Festival (where I’m performing in February) and the latest is that on Saturday 10th Feb I’ll be supporting none other than the fabulous Fiona O’Loughlin! I’m so thrilled – I first saw Fiona on the televised comedy gala back in 2002 and loved her stuff, then interviewed her for a book a year or so later, and now here we’ll be. Just wicked.
- I’ve been booked to do some stand-up up at a Women’s Dinner for Domestic Violence awareness in Nimbin; the timing has worked out brilliantly, such that we can do it on the way back up to Brisbane. Magic.
- my hair has flipped out all nutty-like on me – so if you do have allergies, please back away slowly – doing its usual “we’re at the beach Jen so it’s time to get all wacky and curly” tantrum on me. I don’t mind too much, as I’ve been in the mood for a change and it’s cheaper than a stylist.
- the van is going well and the novelty is yet to wear off. MASSIVE kudos to my uncle Dave and auntie Deb for donating their entire Saturday to help me get it in order and ready for action!
- we’re having an awesome and relaxing time catching up with Tim’s sister Cat and her lovelier than lovely boyfriend Dave; hopefully we’ll be going for another surf with them this afternoon. I do so love pretending to be a beach bum. Well, you know, pretending to be the ‘beach’ part.
- I LOVE LIFE ON THE ROAD!!!!!!!!! I don’t ever want to stop – then again, I guess it is only day two.
Stay tuned!
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Finally...a happy house
Tim's officially finished uni, our van's officially road-worthy and thus we're set to leave first thing tomorrow morning, and we're all officially stoked.
See?
Life is looking up. See you on the road!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, November 13, 2006
Belinda Emmett dies
Wow - this is really sad.Obviously.
I remember earlier this year, when I saw Rove and Belinda at the Comedy Festival gala after-party, I was really shocked by how frail she looked and it actually hit home that it must be serious.
I mean, you read headlines, you see photos, but you kinda forget sometimes that these public people are actually real.
And that real things happen to them.
That aren't always nice.
Excuse me now while I log off and go hug my hubby.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
It's the Final Countdown
Nah nah nah nah...
Nah nah nah nah nah...
Nah nah nah nah...
The final countdown!
Oh how I wish I could actually blog in song.
Anyway, the point is, it's only a couple of days to go til we leave on our mammoth family, guitar, family'n'all tour down to Sydney.
And I've got about a billion things to do between now and then - from getting the campervan transferred into our name to organising tickets for Tim's upcoming graduation (WOOHOO!!!!!!!), life is nuts. But...soon enough we'll be on the road, living it up and all this admin will be but a distant memory. The cynics among you might point out the endless long-distance-driving-tantrums awaiting us, but for now, please indulge me: it's the carrot that's keeping me going.
Hence, the next blog entry may well be on the road. Here's hoping!!
Nah nah nah nah nah...
Nah nah nah nah...
The final countdown!
Oh how I wish I could actually blog in song.
Anyway, the point is, it's only a couple of days to go til we leave on our mammoth family, guitar, family'n'all tour down to Sydney.
And I've got about a billion things to do between now and then - from getting the campervan transferred into our name to organising tickets for Tim's upcoming graduation (WOOHOO!!!!!!!), life is nuts. But...soon enough we'll be on the road, living it up and all this admin will be but a distant memory. The cynics among you might point out the endless long-distance-driving-tantrums awaiting us, but for now, please indulge me: it's the carrot that's keeping me going.
Hence, the next blog entry may well be on the road. Here's hoping!!
Friday, November 10, 2006
Toilet Trained Nirvana? I Think Not
So this whole 'Caleb being toilet-trained' thing isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I don't mean that he's peeing all over the house or leaving turd trails to find his way back to the toy-room, no...the problem is that he's addicted to the potty.
It's my own fault of course, opting for the positive reinforcement strategy of 'whoop whoop'ing and 'woohoo!'ing every single time he successfully puts even a drop of anything in the damn thing: apparently some kids can get a little too hung up on the whole 'mummy thinks I'm cool' thing.
A sample routine goes like this:
Caleb gets ready for his nap.
Caleb decides he doesn't want to sleep.
Caleb instead starts tearing off his pants and hurls himself onto the potty with such disturbing force that he's quite possible rendered infertile.
Caleb huffs and puffs for a few minutes, stands up, looks down, cries out "Mama, I DID IT!!!!"
Mummy comes to inspect his produce - three drops of wee.
Mummy says "Well done, honey, you did it! Okay, now time for bed."
Caleb says no. He is not finished. Caleb sits back down. More huffing and puffing.
This continues for a good half an hour, until he's managed to squeeze out every last drop, like a desperate binge-drinker prying the last few drops from the Lambrusco bladder.
Nasty.
I can't tell you how bittersweet this whole toilet training thing has turned out to be. Because as happy as I thought I'd be to turn my back on nappies, well...at least Caleb never had any emotional attachment to them.
My plan is to wait til he's earning good bucks until I introduce him to the idea of 'therapy'. Cos there's no way I'm paying for potty issues. As far as I'm concerned, my work here is done.
Adieu.
I don't mean that he's peeing all over the house or leaving turd trails to find his way back to the toy-room, no...the problem is that he's addicted to the potty.
It's my own fault of course, opting for the positive reinforcement strategy of 'whoop whoop'ing and 'woohoo!'ing every single time he successfully puts even a drop of anything in the damn thing: apparently some kids can get a little too hung up on the whole 'mummy thinks I'm cool' thing.
A sample routine goes like this:
Caleb gets ready for his nap.
Caleb decides he doesn't want to sleep.
Caleb instead starts tearing off his pants and hurls himself onto the potty with such disturbing force that he's quite possible rendered infertile.
Caleb huffs and puffs for a few minutes, stands up, looks down, cries out "Mama, I DID IT!!!!"
Mummy comes to inspect his produce - three drops of wee.
Mummy says "Well done, honey, you did it! Okay, now time for bed."
Caleb says no. He is not finished. Caleb sits back down. More huffing and puffing.
This continues for a good half an hour, until he's managed to squeeze out every last drop, like a desperate binge-drinker prying the last few drops from the Lambrusco bladder.
Nasty.
I can't tell you how bittersweet this whole toilet training thing has turned out to be. Because as happy as I thought I'd be to turn my back on nappies, well...at least Caleb never had any emotional attachment to them.
My plan is to wait til he's earning good bucks until I introduce him to the idea of 'therapy'. Cos there's no way I'm paying for potty issues. As far as I'm concerned, my work here is done.
Adieu.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Top Keyword Searches
When in blogging doubt, you either:
a) do one of those blog tag Q&A sessions; or
b) share some of the weird and wonderful things that people have typed into Google to get to your blog.
So today, I'm opting for b).
It's so self-absorbed (but then again, what blog isn't?) I almost kill me.
Top 3 Weird Search Engine Thingies that People Used to Find My Little Ole Blog This Month
stuff the nostrils of mummies
Umm....I hope this is just some Egyptian research assignment. Otherwise kids these days are far worse than I thought.
walking mummy emoticon
Let me know if you found it, won't you? I'd love a copy.
And finally...
I HATE MUMMY
Yeah? Well when was the last time she made you wipe her bum and dish up a continental breakfast afterwards? Huh? HUH?!!!! Do that, sugar, and then you can pop "I loathe, detest and resent my mother as though she were Paris Hilton's black roots (the hair kind)" into Google, and I will tip my hat. But until then...I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact you typed in 'I hate mummy' or the fact that it led you to me.
Ehem.
Oh, and you know, welcome to my blog and all that...
a) do one of those blog tag Q&A sessions; or
b) share some of the weird and wonderful things that people have typed into Google to get to your blog.
So today, I'm opting for b).
It's so self-absorbed (but then again, what blog isn't?) I almost kill me.
Top 3 Weird Search Engine Thingies that People Used to Find My Little Ole Blog This Month
stuff the nostrils of mummies
Umm....I hope this is just some Egyptian research assignment. Otherwise kids these days are far worse than I thought.
walking mummy emoticon
Let me know if you found it, won't you? I'd love a copy.
And finally...
I HATE MUMMY
Yeah? Well when was the last time she made you wipe her bum and dish up a continental breakfast afterwards? Huh? HUH?!!!! Do that, sugar, and then you can pop "I loathe, detest and resent my mother as though she were Paris Hilton's black roots (the hair kind)" into Google, and I will tip my hat. But until then...I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact you typed in 'I hate mummy' or the fact that it led you to me.
Ehem.
Oh, and you know, welcome to my blog and all that...
Martyrdom is the new black.
Stressed. Way stressed. Too much to do.
Can't even muster up guts to blog proper entry.
Need help. Or sedation. Or both.
Can't even muster up guts to blog proper entry.
Need help. Or sedation. Or both.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
This Week's Breaking Headlines
As you've no doubt noticed, I've been a little slack on the blogging front lately. But that's because it's been action, action, action all round at our joint. So, in the spirit of getting up to date quickly, here's this week's breaking Comic Mummy headlines!
1. Caleb Finally Out of Nappies. Mummy and Daddy elated.
2. Family Buys Campervan for Touring. Everybody Elated. Bank Account Empty.
3. Jen Sees "The Devil Wears Prada" and Likes it. Desires to Develop Actual Fashion Sense. But Bank Account Empty...
1. Caleb Finally Out of Nappies. Mummy and Daddy elated.
2. Family Buys Campervan for Touring. Everybody Elated. Bank Account Empty.
3. Jen Sees "The Devil Wears Prada" and Likes it. Desires to Develop Actual Fashion Sense. But Bank Account Empty...
Monday, November 06, 2006
Ella's Quote of the Day
"I love you and Daddy and Caleb...and myself."
Well, at least I can cross the low self-esteem issue off my things-to-worry-about-screwing-up-my-kids checklist.
Phew.
Well, at least I can cross the low self-esteem issue off my things-to-worry-about-screwing-up-my-kids checklist.
Phew.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Letters to God
As much as I cringe at reality TV, car crashes and Liza Minnelli, at the end of the day I'm just one big voyeur, who, try as I might, just cannot look away.
If you're of a similar ilk, you might appreciate this story.
Intriguing - the spell, unfortunately, is broken for me in the article's final line.
If you're of a similar ilk, you might appreciate this story.
Intriguing - the spell, unfortunately, is broken for me in the article's final line.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Death to all Nicknames
Ella has gone through more nick-names in her four and a bit years than nappies. Well, okay, that's a complete and utter exaggeration - there is absolutely no WAY anybody's taking the martydrom factor associated with bum-changing away from me - but you get the idea.
Nicknames we've rotated over the years for her include:
- Rabbie (as in, short for Rabbit)
- Schnook
- Mouse/mauschen/other variations on the 'mouse' theme
- Cutie
- Lunatic
- Poo-meister
- Low Sugar Pepsi
(By the way, that last one's made up. Just checking you were actually reading.)
The thing is, I love nicknames. I've always used them. I've always had them used on me. I've always seen them as a positive thing - a special way to bond, if you will. For what can be more loving than looking into that tender little muffin's eyes and saying "Pass the baby wipes my little love poodlet of choco-nuggetness"?
But now that's all to change - Ella is henceforth enforcing a 'no nicknames' rule, the only exception withstanding being "puppet" (the fact that I've never even called her 'puppet' in her entire life seems to be lost on her).
I will respect her wishes. But when her back is turned, when she is helpless on the monkey bars, when she is fast asleep all tucked up in bed...there's gonna be some heavy duty nickname whispering going on from my end. After all I've done, I feel it's the least I'm entitled to: my own little personal rebellion.
Puppet.
Nicknames we've rotated over the years for her include:
- Rabbie (as in, short for Rabbit)
- Schnook
- Mouse/mauschen/other variations on the 'mouse' theme
- Cutie
- Lunatic
- Poo-meister
- Low Sugar Pepsi
(By the way, that last one's made up. Just checking you were actually reading.)
The thing is, I love nicknames. I've always used them. I've always had them used on me. I've always seen them as a positive thing - a special way to bond, if you will. For what can be more loving than looking into that tender little muffin's eyes and saying "Pass the baby wipes my little love poodlet of choco-nuggetness"?
But now that's all to change - Ella is henceforth enforcing a 'no nicknames' rule, the only exception withstanding being "puppet" (the fact that I've never even called her 'puppet' in her entire life seems to be lost on her).
I will respect her wishes. But when her back is turned, when she is helpless on the monkey bars, when she is fast asleep all tucked up in bed...there's gonna be some heavy duty nickname whispering going on from my end. After all I've done, I feel it's the least I'm entitled to: my own little personal rebellion.
Puppet.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The Glasshouse is Axed
Apparently I missed the 'all television shows must be impartial' memo.
As, it seems, did The Glasshouse posse.
But...on a completely and utterly selfish note, this means that I'll now be doing my writing internship on the showduring the final week of production, and therefore writing for The Glasshouse's last ever episode.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sydney Parking
What's a girl to do?
As you well know, we're driving the entire family down to Sydney (with some timely gigs and sanity stops along the way) but already the dilemma has arisen: what to do with the CAR?!
That is, we're staying with my auntie in Glebe, which, last time I stayed there, greeted every street-parked car with a smashed in windscreen and a coat of graffiti. Now, now that I'm not into turning everyday items into works of art (this is how I justify the horrific state of my house), but...I would like the option of being actually able to transport the family home after all the Sydney stuff is said and done.
So...I'm turning to you, my blogging buddies! Should we:
a) resign ourselves to circumstance, park there anyway and hope for the best;
b) smash the windscreens and paint up the car ourselves, in a cunning tactic of reverse psychology (or mechanical homeopathy, depending on how you look at it);
c) fork out hefty dollars for an actual safe car-park;
d) cancel the tour and drive to Cairns;
e) other.
Oh, by the way, if you have any actual legitimate way of helping us out with this dilemma, please do drop me a line at contact@jennywynter.com Ta.
As you well know, we're driving the entire family down to Sydney (with some timely gigs and sanity stops along the way) but already the dilemma has arisen: what to do with the CAR?!
That is, we're staying with my auntie in Glebe, which, last time I stayed there, greeted every street-parked car with a smashed in windscreen and a coat of graffiti. Now, now that I'm not into turning everyday items into works of art (this is how I justify the horrific state of my house), but...I would like the option of being actually able to transport the family home after all the Sydney stuff is said and done.
So...I'm turning to you, my blogging buddies! Should we:
a) resign ourselves to circumstance, park there anyway and hope for the best;
b) smash the windscreens and paint up the car ourselves, in a cunning tactic of reverse psychology (or mechanical homeopathy, depending on how you look at it);
c) fork out hefty dollars for an actual safe car-park;
d) cancel the tour and drive to Cairns;
e) other.
Oh, by the way, if you have any actual legitimate way of helping us out with this dilemma, please do drop me a line at contact@jennywynter.com Ta.
Okay, okay, I'll spill the beans already!
You guys.
You and your enthusiasm, your encouragement and your insatiable urge to flatter...one of these days my head's just going to inflate so much I'll be needing my very own ozone layer. So please, for all of our sakes...stop now.
So for those of you who asked (thanks rn_buffoon) the gig went very nicely indeed. Particularly considering that I rocked up feeling so frighteningly fatigued that for a moment I doubted my ability to actually make it through. But...enough whingeing. As usual, the adrenalin kicked in and got me through - man, if only they could bottle that stuff. Oh hang on, they can. But sorry to say, I'm really not the 'stab a needle into my heart' kinda gal.
Anyway, back to the point: there was a very broad mix of people - a massive turnout, actually - artists, kiddies aged from 2 upwards, grandparents, parents, people who fit into all of the above categories and everything in between. Needless to say, I kept it clean, even substituting relatively cleanities like 'making love' to 'getting friendly' - those of you who've seen me perform Dole Queue Girl will know what I'm talking about. The rest of you: consider your curiosity piqued.
Had a great time, brought a few people onstage for a bit of a chat (including two of the CUTEST little kiddies ever, one of whom wore a tuxedo on his top half and jeans on his bottom) and then proceeded to make up a few songs based on my interview findings - including classics such as "It Ain't Easy Painting Boxes" (apt, given the awards ceremony was for artwork which people had painted on City Council traffic signal boxes).
Then right at the end of the night, I unleashed Mrs Sorenson for her first ever public appearance (well, since she first came on-stage in a play I wrote years ago...but that's a whole other story I'll share another time) where she read a closing poem to all the artists. And Cath from Artforce, who organised the whole gig, has already requested a copy of said poem to put up on their website. Ah, Mrs S...I just love her. And yes, Huggies, I will post some video footage of the old bird online soon, I promise.
The highlight of my night though, was when I was off-stage and an adorable little girl in a polka-dotted dress and light brown big-tails, probably about the same age as Ella, came up and tugged at my shirt. She looked up at me with her enormous brown and hugely sincere eyes and whispered something.
"What was that?" I knelt down so I could hear her.
She spoke slowly, softly and deliberately:
"You're a very nice singer."
Now if that doesn't rock the world, then the world just ain't worth rockin.
You and your enthusiasm, your encouragement and your insatiable urge to flatter...one of these days my head's just going to inflate so much I'll be needing my very own ozone layer. So please, for all of our sakes...stop now.
So for those of you who asked (thanks rn_buffoon) the gig went very nicely indeed. Particularly considering that I rocked up feeling so frighteningly fatigued that for a moment I doubted my ability to actually make it through. But...enough whingeing. As usual, the adrenalin kicked in and got me through - man, if only they could bottle that stuff. Oh hang on, they can. But sorry to say, I'm really not the 'stab a needle into my heart' kinda gal.
Anyway, back to the point: there was a very broad mix of people - a massive turnout, actually - artists, kiddies aged from 2 upwards, grandparents, parents, people who fit into all of the above categories and everything in between. Needless to say, I kept it clean, even substituting relatively cleanities like 'making love' to 'getting friendly' - those of you who've seen me perform Dole Queue Girl will know what I'm talking about. The rest of you: consider your curiosity piqued.
Had a great time, brought a few people onstage for a bit of a chat (including two of the CUTEST little kiddies ever, one of whom wore a tuxedo on his top half and jeans on his bottom) and then proceeded to make up a few songs based on my interview findings - including classics such as "It Ain't Easy Painting Boxes" (apt, given the awards ceremony was for artwork which people had painted on City Council traffic signal boxes).
Then right at the end of the night, I unleashed Mrs Sorenson for her first ever public appearance (well, since she first came on-stage in a play I wrote years ago...but that's a whole other story I'll share another time) where she read a closing poem to all the artists. And Cath from Artforce, who organised the whole gig, has already requested a copy of said poem to put up on their website. Ah, Mrs S...I just love her. And yes, Huggies, I will post some video footage of the old bird online soon, I promise.
The highlight of my night though, was when I was off-stage and an adorable little girl in a polka-dotted dress and light brown big-tails, probably about the same age as Ella, came up and tugged at my shirt. She looked up at me with her enormous brown and hugely sincere eyes and whispered something.
"What was that?" I knelt down so I could hear her.
She spoke slowly, softly and deliberately:
"You're a very nice singer."
Now if that doesn't rock the world, then the world just ain't worth rockin.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Stuck for Inspiration
Hmmmm...it's not like me to be stuck for words, but I'm afraid today I am. Maybe it's just cos my throat is sore and thus I'm a little out of sorts and nervous that it'll hold out for my gig tonight! AAGH!
Tonight's going to be interesting - I'm MCing the Artforce Awards, a Brisbane City Council initiative whereby members of the community paint their works of art on the Traffic Signal Boxes. I've been given the full go-ahead to be as creative, musical and crazy as I want in my entertaining duties, so I'm rather excited. Particularly as I've decided to unleash ZZZ's increasingly popular Mrs Sorenson in person!!!
We shall see...
But until then, it's adieu from me and my tonsils.
Wish us both luck, won't you?
Tonight's going to be interesting - I'm MCing the Artforce Awards, a Brisbane City Council initiative whereby members of the community paint their works of art on the Traffic Signal Boxes. I've been given the full go-ahead to be as creative, musical and crazy as I want in my entertaining duties, so I'm rather excited. Particularly as I've decided to unleash ZZZ's increasingly popular Mrs Sorenson in person!!!
We shall see...
But until then, it's adieu from me and my tonsils.
Wish us both luck, won't you?
Saturday, October 28, 2006
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Hot Date
So last night Tim and I had our first hot date in way too long. Slap, slap, slap! (Sorry, just having a little tustle with my wrists).
Then, mid-date, something a little weird happened.
Picture us: strolling through the markets at Southbank. Suddenly, from behind us, a shriek...
Woman: Aaaah! It's the comedian!
Friend of woman: Oh my God!
We turn around to check out the action - turns out there's four ladies. For the sake of ease, let's call them Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha.
They walk up to us. This hasn't really happened before - I mean, I've had people recognise me, but not in a 'oh my God!' kinda way. I don't really know whether to smile and just keep walking or stand there to soak it up. I look at Tim for help. He just smiles and holds my hand: we opt for the middle way - standing but slowly backing away.
Samantha: We saw you a few weeks ago at the Comedy Club!
Charlotte: YOU (pointing) were hilarious!
Me: Thanks so much.
Miranda: We were the ones down the front!
Me: Oh.
Samantha: You know, with the Elmo toy!
Me: Oh yeah! I remember you now... (I actually did.)
(Meanwhile, they're being so loud that people nearby are starting to stare, wondering what the fuss is about. I look to Tim: he's just standing looking smug. He tells me later that he loved feeling like a rockstar)
Carrie: (grabbing my arm) Oh, just let me touch you!
(Okay, NOW I'm officially getting freaked out.)
I smile, mutter something about feeling like a complete feral tonight - which they chuckle very loudly at - and then we back away into the night.
Tim: So did you love that? I would have loved that.
Me: Yeah, I guess.
I start to giggle uncontrollably.
Me: That was so surreal.
It takes me almost an hour to stop shaking.
Then, mid-date, something a little weird happened.
Picture us: strolling through the markets at Southbank. Suddenly, from behind us, a shriek...
Woman: Aaaah! It's the comedian!
Friend of woman: Oh my God!
We turn around to check out the action - turns out there's four ladies. For the sake of ease, let's call them Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha.
They walk up to us. This hasn't really happened before - I mean, I've had people recognise me, but not in a 'oh my God!' kinda way. I don't really know whether to smile and just keep walking or stand there to soak it up. I look at Tim for help. He just smiles and holds my hand: we opt for the middle way - standing but slowly backing away.
Samantha: We saw you a few weeks ago at the Comedy Club!
Charlotte: YOU (pointing) were hilarious!
Me: Thanks so much.
Miranda: We were the ones down the front!
Me: Oh.
Samantha: You know, with the Elmo toy!
Me: Oh yeah! I remember you now... (I actually did.)
(Meanwhile, they're being so loud that people nearby are starting to stare, wondering what the fuss is about. I look to Tim: he's just standing looking smug. He tells me later that he loved feeling like a rockstar)
Carrie: (grabbing my arm) Oh, just let me touch you!
(Okay, NOW I'm officially getting freaked out.)
I smile, mutter something about feeling like a complete feral tonight - which they chuckle very loudly at - and then we back away into the night.
Tim: So did you love that? I would have loved that.
Me: Yeah, I guess.
I start to giggle uncontrollably.
Me: That was so surreal.
It takes me almost an hour to stop shaking.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Comedy tour, JAM, Cinema a la Hitchhiker, Melbourne Comedy Fest, CDs and the glow.
My apologies for the delay between blogs - the upside of this is that I've been quite busy in the real world. Well, not really an upside so much as an irrefutable fact.
So here you go, a concise update of breaking news:
- I'm feeling rather overwhelmed with the amount of stuff to tie up and work out before heading off on tour. It's only TWO WEEKS (approximately: who can be bothered with details?) away. Part of me is completely excited at hitting a new comedy scene and hanging with the fam, the other part is terrified at the prospect of coming back in need of shock therapy.
By the way, if you are keen on checking out more on the tour, please check out www.jennywynter.com There's fresh news and gigs - Wyntertainment is becoming a way of life.
- am hugely hugely enjoying jamming comedy stuff with my mates, Marc & Ash, in a top secret and extremely classified comedy operation known 'officially' as JAM. Stay tuned...
- I have FINALLY finished the editing of the improv feature film demo DVD Cinema a la Hitchhiker - WOHOO!!! I mean, I actually finished it quite a few months back, but then technology being technology - and Jenny being Jenny - I had a couple of things to fix up, plus have actually laid down the musical sound-track. So...fingers crossed this project should be tied up and ready to make its way out into the world to seduce investors with shameless...uh....seduction.
- am currently making big decisions for 2007, including whether to do the Melbourne Comedy Festival thing (which up to this point I've been gung-ho on) or just save the money and put it towards going to Edinburgh Fringe in August. That way I could also get a round-the-world ticket (if you're spending the $$ you might as well add on a couple more hundred and do the whole shebang) and put my show on in New York & LA on the way back. I need an advisor so badly it hurts!!
- my first CD should be ready within the next couple of weeks - not sure if I'll be sorted to sell them online by then, but they'll definitely be in the Festival Shop at Woodford and online as soon as I can sort it all out. Ah. Sometimes I feel like every day is just another 'to-do' list.
...and this news just in:
- I've started to glow.
From front left: Ash, Brad, the CM and Mezza, aka the improv troupe formerly known as "A Streetcar Named Whatever"
So here you go, a concise update of breaking news:
- I'm feeling rather overwhelmed with the amount of stuff to tie up and work out before heading off on tour. It's only TWO WEEKS (approximately: who can be bothered with details?) away. Part of me is completely excited at hitting a new comedy scene and hanging with the fam, the other part is terrified at the prospect of coming back in need of shock therapy.
By the way, if you are keen on checking out more on the tour, please check out www.jennywynter.com There's fresh news and gigs - Wyntertainment is becoming a way of life.
- am hugely hugely enjoying jamming comedy stuff with my mates, Marc & Ash, in a top secret and extremely classified comedy operation known 'officially' as JAM. Stay tuned...
- I have FINALLY finished the editing of the improv feature film demo DVD Cinema a la Hitchhiker - WOHOO!!! I mean, I actually finished it quite a few months back, but then technology being technology - and Jenny being Jenny - I had a couple of things to fix up, plus have actually laid down the musical sound-track. So...fingers crossed this project should be tied up and ready to make its way out into the world to seduce investors with shameless...uh....seduction.
- am currently making big decisions for 2007, including whether to do the Melbourne Comedy Festival thing (which up to this point I've been gung-ho on) or just save the money and put it towards going to Edinburgh Fringe in August. That way I could also get a round-the-world ticket (if you're spending the $$ you might as well add on a couple more hundred and do the whole shebang) and put my show on in New York & LA on the way back. I need an advisor so badly it hurts!!
- my first CD should be ready within the next couple of weeks - not sure if I'll be sorted to sell them online by then, but they'll definitely be in the Festival Shop at Woodford and online as soon as I can sort it all out. Ah. Sometimes I feel like every day is just another 'to-do' list.
...and this news just in:
- I've started to glow.
From front left: Ash, Brad, the CM and Mezza, aka the improv troupe formerly known as "A Streetcar Named Whatever"
Monday, October 23, 2006
Whaddya know? I like the tikes.
I'm just loving the kids at the moment. Which is damn pleasant.
You see, thanks to day-care day changes (some of which is my own doing, some of which just comes down to good old-fashioned lack of vacancies), I now only have one, that's right, ONE child-free day per week. Or, to put it another way, I have at least one child with me for six days of the week.
The hugest up-side of this is that the kids' behaviour has improved immensely, thus making them a LOT more fun to hang with- plus I find myself actually enjoying the more relaxed start to the mornings, where we can laze in bed (well, more accurately, I laze in bed while they tear the house to pieces, but at least I've trained them to tear it to pieces with some consideration on the noise front) and ease our way into the day. Yes, much much nicer than the whole running-out-the-door-with-toast-stuck-up-my-nostrils-to-make-it-to-daycare-by-9.30-and-not-be-exposed-for-the-incompetent-parent-I-am type start.
And...shock horror! We're actually having fun together. Yesterday, for instance...I finally made cut-out cookies with Ella, something I've been procrastinating since she discovered the ability to grip. And it was fun! Sure, the actual cookies crumbled to pieces cos domesticity and I are like Michael Jackson and Lisa-Marie Presley: never meant to go together. BUT... the whole 'mummy/daughter bonding' thing? Big tick.
I never thought I'd be one of those mummies, you know, "motherhood is so fulfilling, tra la la la" and so on - on the average day the only thing I am filled full with are thoughts of escape - but lately, despite myself, I'm really digging my kiddlies. (Now I've said that, of course, I've probably jinxed myself - they'll probably break into my room tonight and rub snot all over my sleeping bod.)
But for now. Little Homies = Pretty Cool.
That's the upside.
The downside? I've never felt so exhausted in my entire l-
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
You see, thanks to day-care day changes (some of which is my own doing, some of which just comes down to good old-fashioned lack of vacancies), I now only have one, that's right, ONE child-free day per week. Or, to put it another way, I have at least one child with me for six days of the week.
The hugest up-side of this is that the kids' behaviour has improved immensely, thus making them a LOT more fun to hang with- plus I find myself actually enjoying the more relaxed start to the mornings, where we can laze in bed (well, more accurately, I laze in bed while they tear the house to pieces, but at least I've trained them to tear it to pieces with some consideration on the noise front) and ease our way into the day. Yes, much much nicer than the whole running-out-the-door-with-toast-stuck-up-my-nostrils-to-make-it-to-daycare-by-9.30-and-not-be-exposed-for-the-incompetent-parent-I-am type start.
And...shock horror! We're actually having fun together. Yesterday, for instance...I finally made cut-out cookies with Ella, something I've been procrastinating since she discovered the ability to grip. And it was fun! Sure, the actual cookies crumbled to pieces cos domesticity and I are like Michael Jackson and Lisa-Marie Presley: never meant to go together. BUT... the whole 'mummy/daughter bonding' thing? Big tick.
I never thought I'd be one of those mummies, you know, "motherhood is so fulfilling, tra la la la" and so on - on the average day the only thing I am filled full with are thoughts of escape - but lately, despite myself, I'm really digging my kiddlies. (Now I've said that, of course, I've probably jinxed myself - they'll probably break into my room tonight and rub snot all over my sleeping bod.)
But for now. Little Homies = Pretty Cool.
That's the upside.
The downside? I've never felt so exhausted in my entire l-
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Whaddya know? I like the tikes.
I'm just loving the kids at the moment. Which is damn pleasant.
You see, thanks to day-care day changes (some of which is my own doing, some of which just comes down to good old-fashioned lack of vacancies), I now only have one, that's right, ONE child-free day per week. Or, to put it another way, I have at least one child with me for six days of the week.
The hugest up-side of this is that the kids' behaviour has improved immensely, thus making them a LOT more fun to hang with- plus I find myself actually enjoying the more relaxed start to the mornings, where we can laze in bed (well, more accurately, I laze in bed while they tear the house to pieces, but at least I've trained them to tear it to pieces with some consideration on the noise front) and ease our way into the day. Yes, much much nicer than the whole running-out-the-door-with-toast-stuck-up-my-nostrils-to-make-it-to-daycare-by-9.30-and-not-be-exposed-for-the-incompetent-parent-I-am type start.
And...shock horror! We're actually having fun together. Yesterday, for instance...I finally made cut-out cookies with Ella, something I've been procrastinating since she discovered the ability to grip. And it was fun! Sure, the actual cookies crumbled to pieces cos domesticity and I are like Michael Jackson and Lisa-Marie Presley: never meant to go together. BUT... the whole 'mummy/daughter bonding' thing? Big tick.
I never thought I'd be one of those mummies, you know, "motherhood is so fulfilling, tra la la la" and so on - on the average day the only thing I am filled full with are thoughts of escape - but lately, despite myself, I'm really digging my kiddlies. (Now I've said that, of course, I've probably jinxed myself - they'll probably break into my room tonight and rub snot all over my sleeping bod.)
But for now. Little Homies = Pretty Cool.
That's the upside.
The downside? I've never felt so exhausted in my entire l-
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
You see, thanks to day-care day changes (some of which is my own doing, some of which just comes down to good old-fashioned lack of vacancies), I now only have one, that's right, ONE child-free day per week. Or, to put it another way, I have at least one child with me for six days of the week.
The hugest up-side of this is that the kids' behaviour has improved immensely, thus making them a LOT more fun to hang with- plus I find myself actually enjoying the more relaxed start to the mornings, where we can laze in bed (well, more accurately, I laze in bed while they tear the house to pieces, but at least I've trained them to tear it to pieces with some consideration on the noise front) and ease our way into the day. Yes, much much nicer than the whole running-out-the-door-with-toast-stuck-up-my-nostrils-to-make-it-to-daycare-by-9.30-and-not-be-exposed-for-the-incompetent-parent-I-am type start.
And...shock horror! We're actually having fun together. Yesterday, for instance...I finally made cut-out cookies with Ella, something I've been procrastinating since she discovered the ability to grip. And it was fun! Sure, the actual cookies crumbled to pieces cos domesticity and I are like Michael Jackson and Lisa-Marie Presley: never meant to go together. BUT... the whole 'mummy/daughter bonding' thing? Big tick.
I never thought I'd be one of those mummies, you know, "motherhood is so fulfilling, tra la la la" and so on - on the average day the only thing I am filled full with are thoughts of escape - but lately, despite myself, I'm really digging my kiddlies. (Now I've said that, of course, I've probably jinxed myself - they'll probably break into my room tonight and rub snot all over my sleeping bod.)
But for now. Little Homies = Pretty Cool.
That's the upside.
The downside? I've never felt so exhausted in my entire l-
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Poor Britney
Oh boy. This is probably old news to some, but I have only just stumbled across it: a quite private (no, not in that way) home movie of Britney Spears.
Watching it, I went from perplexed to amused to guilty - there comes a point where you feel like you shouldn't be watching, but then you just can't help yourself. In fact, I feel a little bit bad about even contemplating sharing it.
But obviously not too bad.
Watching it, I went from perplexed to amused to guilty - there comes a point where you feel like you shouldn't be watching, but then you just can't help yourself. In fact, I feel a little bit bad about even contemplating sharing it.
But obviously not too bad.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Conversations of the Day
***
Me: "You're gorgeous, Ella."
Ella: "Don't call me gorgeous."
Me: "Do you know what gorgeous means?"
Ella: "What?"
Me: "It means 'beautiful.'"
A huffy sigh.
Ella: "Alright, call me gorgeous, then."
***
Tim: "Cay-man!"
Caleb: "I not Cay-man. I Super-man!"
***
Oh and the full version of "One Night in Labour" is now online - if you want to check it out, the pleasure is all mine. No, really.
One Night in Labour (full version)
Me: "You're gorgeous, Ella."
Ella: "Don't call me gorgeous."
Me: "Do you know what gorgeous means?"
Ella: "What?"
Me: "It means 'beautiful.'"
A huffy sigh.
Ella: "Alright, call me gorgeous, then."
***
Tim: "Cay-man!"
Caleb: "I not Cay-man. I Super-man!"
***
Oh and the full version of "One Night in Labour" is now online - if you want to check it out, the pleasure is all mine. No, really.
One Night in Labour (full version)
Friday, October 20, 2006
Obsessions
I've realised that yet again, comedy has become more than a fun thing I enjoy - it's become an obsession. It's like every minute of the day I'm looking for punch-lines, making notes for material, improvising songs on my head...in short, I can't find the off-switch.
Oh, and speaking of which...
Comedy for a cause. Dig it.
Come along (if you're in Brisbane: for those of you in Canada and USA...no pressure)
So yes, comedy. It's quite an enjoyable obsession, but then I suppose that's the nature of them, isn't it?
My hubby has long been flitting from obsession to obsession himself, the latest one (though it has been a recurring issue for many years now) being chess.
So comedy and chess. Both running rife in this household, and both probably pretty harmless when you compare them to the obsessions you could have.
But I'm curious - what are you guys obsessed with? Is it a problem for you, or do you just accept - and embrace - them?
Oh, and speaking of which...
Comedy for a cause. Dig it.Come along (if you're in Brisbane: for those of you in Canada and USA...no pressure)
So yes, comedy. It's quite an enjoyable obsession, but then I suppose that's the nature of them, isn't it?
My hubby has long been flitting from obsession to obsession himself, the latest one (though it has been a recurring issue for many years now) being chess.
So comedy and chess. Both running rife in this household, and both probably pretty harmless when you compare them to the obsessions you could have.
But I'm curious - what are you guys obsessed with? Is it a problem for you, or do you just accept - and embrace - them?
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Okay, time to fess up
So about this 'worst drought in history' we're having: it's all my fault.
Every time I do my washing you see, every freaking time, the heavens start rumbling in preparation for their downpour. And this year, well...I haven't been doing a lot of washing.
Well, that's not entirely true. I've been doing a LOT of it, just not frequently. I'm more of the 'save it all up and then do twelve loads in a day' type mummy.
I know, I know, genius.
And each and every one of my wash-a-thons has been rewarded by a storm. Including today. Thus here I sit, a near-full blog entry upstairs, a near-empty washing pile downstairs and big grey clouds brewing in the background.
So to Brisbane, Toowoomba and all you others contemplating drinking your own sewage thanks to the water crisis...I apologise heartily.
I will try to do better in 07.
Every time I do my washing you see, every freaking time, the heavens start rumbling in preparation for their downpour. And this year, well...I haven't been doing a lot of washing.
Well, that's not entirely true. I've been doing a LOT of it, just not frequently. I'm more of the 'save it all up and then do twelve loads in a day' type mummy.
I know, I know, genius.
And each and every one of my wash-a-thons has been rewarded by a storm. Including today. Thus here I sit, a near-full blog entry upstairs, a near-empty washing pile downstairs and big grey clouds brewing in the background.
So to Brisbane, Toowoomba and all you others contemplating drinking your own sewage thanks to the water crisis...I apologise heartily.
I will try to do better in 07.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Gallantry is Back
So we're back in action: phone's working, internet's working, communications are back on track.
As is gallantry.
Tonight, you see, I let the little needle on the petrol metre slip that little bit too far (what can I say? I like to live on the edge) and next thing you know, the car's slowing to a halt in the middle of Highgate Hill.
In my sleep-deprived stupour, I somehow resist the urge to fall into a blithering pile of messiness - after all, I have no desire to be arrested as a traffic hazard - and instead pop the boot, get out of the car, call instructions to Ella and pull out the pram in preparation for the trek down to the petrol station.
Next thing you know, a rather nice looking RAV pulls up beside me, out of which a rather nice looking man - complete with British accent - leans, saying "Need a hand?"
*Note to reader: from this point on said rescuer shall be referred to as James Bond.
"Uh, I've just run out of petrol," I stammer, still wrestling with the pram.
"Hmmm..." says James, then points his finger down towards the local station and raises his eye-brows as if to say "it will be open, yes?"
"Yes!" I say a little too delightedly, then tone it down. "I think it's still open."
James flicks on his indicator without missing a beat. "You stay here. I'll be back."
Hasta la Vista, Baby.
Okay, sorry, wrong popular culture reference.
I sit back in the car, relieved - not only has my Good Samaritan saved the day but the kids are actually dealing with this hiccup with uncharacteristic cool.
Minutes later, James Bond returns, does his thing with the jerry-can, (while I stand by making lame jokes and thanking him profusely), refuses to accept any money for his expenses incurred and then disappears into the night with a smile and a beep.
Well, okay...just a smile.
And for a moment, I think, if it weren't for me being sweaty and stinky from a full day out, if it weren't for the car being full of so much crap it's a virtual drowning hazard, if it weren't for the hubby at home and the two kids trundled in the back-seat...this coulda almost been romantic.
As is gallantry.
Tonight, you see, I let the little needle on the petrol metre slip that little bit too far (what can I say? I like to live on the edge) and next thing you know, the car's slowing to a halt in the middle of Highgate Hill.
In my sleep-deprived stupour, I somehow resist the urge to fall into a blithering pile of messiness - after all, I have no desire to be arrested as a traffic hazard - and instead pop the boot, get out of the car, call instructions to Ella and pull out the pram in preparation for the trek down to the petrol station.
Next thing you know, a rather nice looking RAV pulls up beside me, out of which a rather nice looking man - complete with British accent - leans, saying "Need a hand?"
*Note to reader: from this point on said rescuer shall be referred to as James Bond.
"Uh, I've just run out of petrol," I stammer, still wrestling with the pram.
"Hmmm..." says James, then points his finger down towards the local station and raises his eye-brows as if to say "it will be open, yes?"
"Yes!" I say a little too delightedly, then tone it down. "I think it's still open."
James flicks on his indicator without missing a beat. "You stay here. I'll be back."
Hasta la Vista, Baby.
Okay, sorry, wrong popular culture reference.
I sit back in the car, relieved - not only has my Good Samaritan saved the day but the kids are actually dealing with this hiccup with uncharacteristic cool.
Minutes later, James Bond returns, does his thing with the jerry-can, (while I stand by making lame jokes and thanking him profusely), refuses to accept any money for his expenses incurred and then disappears into the night with a smile and a beep.
Well, okay...just a smile.
And for a moment, I think, if it weren't for me being sweaty and stinky from a full day out, if it weren't for the car being full of so much crap it's a virtual drowning hazard, if it weren't for the hubby at home and the two kids trundled in the back-seat...this coulda almost been romantic.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Whoa I'm still alive...
I've always wanted an excuse to quote Eddie Vedder in context.
And that was it.
Rest assured I am still very much alive and kicking - unlike my internet access. Thank you for the overwhelming number of e-mails querying my whereabouts. Net resuscitation shall commence today and hopefully we'll find a pulse sometime this afternoon.
Until then, it's adieu from me and this overpriced net cafe.
x
And that was it.
Rest assured I am still very much alive and kicking - unlike my internet access. Thank you for the overwhelming number of e-mails querying my whereabouts. Net resuscitation shall commence today and hopefully we'll find a pulse sometime this afternoon.
Until then, it's adieu from me and this overpriced net cafe.
x
Friday, October 13, 2006
Because it's Friday
I'm taking a leaf out of my mate Gempires blog (translation = blatantly ripping off the idea) and doing a Good Weekend style interview. Why not? It's almost the weekend and hopefully it will be good.
My earliest memory is…sucking on a bottle of Coke. No wonder my teeth are screwed.
My first relationship was…with Christopher at kindergarden. We used to fully pash and everything (as a movie geek from birth I was well educated in the art of open-mouth kissing) until I dumped him for lifting up my skirt during our affection-sprees. Then I got in trouble from my kindy teacher for making him cry.
I wish I’d never worn…oh boy, where to begin? There was the bubble skirt with polka-dots, there was the Kylie-style hat with the top cut off to make way for the hair, and let's not even mention the fluoro two-piece (bike pants and boob tube) that clipped together with braces...yes, please...I have worked very hard to suppress all that so let's keep it that way. Moving on.
My mother told me…to marry your best friend, cos a best friend won't hurt you but a lover will. She also told me to avoid crowded places in Melbourne in case of terrorist attacks; I quote "especially the mall."
I wish I had…a little leprechaun following me everywhere whose mission on earth was to massage my back and feet.
My most humiliating moment was…just yesterday, actually, when in an attempt to play 'good mummy' I decided to play soccer in thongs (note: don't do this, people). One minute Ella's kicking me the ball, the next minute my thong's all twisted (note to Americans: I'm talking about the shoe-variety) and the minute after that, I'm spreadeagle...in front of our entire local cricket club AND on a patch of prickles, nonetheless. My hands and arms are still covered in red blotches. So the moral of the story: don't bother trying to ease your mummy-guilt. It can only end in pain.
At home I cook…as little as possible.
My last meal would be…an all-you-can-eat buffet, cos then I could just keep on eating and delay impending death. Sure, I'd look like Moby Dick, but I would be alive, honey.
I’m very bad at…making popcorn. No kidding, it burns 100% guaranteed, even when I actually stay in the kitchen.
When I was a child…I wrote blatantly plagiarised versions of other people's books (I remember a particularly tittilating version of "Winnie the Pooh and the Blue Balloon" or something) and actually got good marks for them. This was back in grade two, when plagiarism was just considered part of learning, I guess.
The book that changed my life is…How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. My mum gave it to me when I was eight. (There's an entire hour of comedy right there, I know it!)
It's not fashionable, but I love…Kylie.
Friends say I am…happy.
The song I’d like played at my funeral is...the theme from The Muppet Show. Oh, and "Won't You Be My Koala?"
If only I could…stop shamelessly self-promoting.
The last big belly laugh I had was…two nights ago, with my improvised comedy mates Ash and Marc - we've been doing some comedy jams and filming them (they'll be coming online soon!) and both those dudes make me laugh so hard I come home feeling like I've born a small child.
What I don’t find amusing is…childbirth. While I'm in it, that is. Afterwards...what a riot!
I’m always being asked…if my improvised songs are actually made up on the spot. They are.
If I wasn’t me…I'd be...you? What a nonsensical question. Gees, doesn't anyone take things seriously round here?
At the moment I’m listening to…the sound of my hubby bumbling through the house. Oh, and lately I've been listening to a wicked chick from Sydney called Melanie Horsnell - we interviewed her on Zed earlier this year and I think her album just rocks!
My favourite work of art is…my kids. (Betchya didn't see that one coming)
If I were a car I’d be…a Volkswagen Beetle with roof-racks. Big ones.
I often wonder...if I should stop wasting my time blogging and actually get some freakin work done.
My earliest memory is…sucking on a bottle of Coke. No wonder my teeth are screwed.
My first relationship was…with Christopher at kindergarden. We used to fully pash and everything (as a movie geek from birth I was well educated in the art of open-mouth kissing) until I dumped him for lifting up my skirt during our affection-sprees. Then I got in trouble from my kindy teacher for making him cry.
I wish I’d never worn…oh boy, where to begin? There was the bubble skirt with polka-dots, there was the Kylie-style hat with the top cut off to make way for the hair, and let's not even mention the fluoro two-piece (bike pants and boob tube) that clipped together with braces...yes, please...I have worked very hard to suppress all that so let's keep it that way. Moving on.
My mother told me…to marry your best friend, cos a best friend won't hurt you but a lover will. She also told me to avoid crowded places in Melbourne in case of terrorist attacks; I quote "especially the mall."
I wish I had…a little leprechaun following me everywhere whose mission on earth was to massage my back and feet.
My most humiliating moment was…just yesterday, actually, when in an attempt to play 'good mummy' I decided to play soccer in thongs (note: don't do this, people). One minute Ella's kicking me the ball, the next minute my thong's all twisted (note to Americans: I'm talking about the shoe-variety) and the minute after that, I'm spreadeagle...in front of our entire local cricket club AND on a patch of prickles, nonetheless. My hands and arms are still covered in red blotches. So the moral of the story: don't bother trying to ease your mummy-guilt. It can only end in pain.
At home I cook…as little as possible.
My last meal would be…an all-you-can-eat buffet, cos then I could just keep on eating and delay impending death. Sure, I'd look like Moby Dick, but I would be alive, honey.
I’m very bad at…making popcorn. No kidding, it burns 100% guaranteed, even when I actually stay in the kitchen.
When I was a child…I wrote blatantly plagiarised versions of other people's books (I remember a particularly tittilating version of "Winnie the Pooh and the Blue Balloon" or something) and actually got good marks for them. This was back in grade two, when plagiarism was just considered part of learning, I guess.
The book that changed my life is…How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. My mum gave it to me when I was eight. (There's an entire hour of comedy right there, I know it!)
It's not fashionable, but I love…Kylie.
Friends say I am…happy.
The song I’d like played at my funeral is...the theme from The Muppet Show. Oh, and "Won't You Be My Koala?"
If only I could…stop shamelessly self-promoting.
The last big belly laugh I had was…two nights ago, with my improvised comedy mates Ash and Marc - we've been doing some comedy jams and filming them (they'll be coming online soon!) and both those dudes make me laugh so hard I come home feeling like I've born a small child.
What I don’t find amusing is…childbirth. While I'm in it, that is. Afterwards...what a riot!
I’m always being asked…if my improvised songs are actually made up on the spot. They are.
If I wasn’t me…I'd be...you? What a nonsensical question. Gees, doesn't anyone take things seriously round here?
At the moment I’m listening to…the sound of my hubby bumbling through the house. Oh, and lately I've been listening to a wicked chick from Sydney called Melanie Horsnell - we interviewed her on Zed earlier this year and I think her album just rocks!
My favourite work of art is…my kids. (Betchya didn't see that one coming)
If I were a car I’d be…a Volkswagen Beetle with roof-racks. Big ones.
I often wonder...if I should stop wasting my time blogging and actually get some freakin work done.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Well aren't you guys a lovely bunch!
One day, one DAY, I tell you(!) after blogging about it and somehow the "Won't You Be My Koala" clip is at number one, ONE, I tell you(!) on FameWave.
Oh, YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You really are too much.
Anyway, so this isn't just another shameless self-promoting post (who, moi?) allow me to switch to 'self-obsessed Jenny' and share with you my day in a nutshell:
- woke up far too early to make it to my first ever chiropractic appointment. Any scepticism I had about chiropractors disolved within minutes. I won't go on, because what am I? A Chiropracevanglist? I think not. But...it was cool and I eagerly await being straightened up to a point where I can lift my hefty son without my legs going numb.
- made the stupid move of starting to watch a borrowed LOST DVD during the kids nap-time, then of course, couldn't stop watching by the time they'd woken up. So, I set them up with some crayons, paper, a bowl of water and a fluffy toy (mother of the year, eat your heart out) and polished off the entire DVD. But now I just feel lazy and in suspense.
- am trying to muster up the motivation to actually do something productive with the kids this afternoon that might make me feel like a better mummy. This may be tough though, as both dinner and our overflowing laundry are beckoning...
Stay tuned for more exciting adventures in domesticity! Will the action never end?
Oh, YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You really are too much.
Anyway, so this isn't just another shameless self-promoting post (who, moi?) allow me to switch to 'self-obsessed Jenny' and share with you my day in a nutshell:
- woke up far too early to make it to my first ever chiropractic appointment. Any scepticism I had about chiropractors disolved within minutes. I won't go on, because what am I? A Chiropracevanglist? I think not. But...it was cool and I eagerly await being straightened up to a point where I can lift my hefty son without my legs going numb.
- made the stupid move of starting to watch a borrowed LOST DVD during the kids nap-time, then of course, couldn't stop watching by the time they'd woken up. So, I set them up with some crayons, paper, a bowl of water and a fluffy toy (mother of the year, eat your heart out) and polished off the entire DVD. But now I just feel lazy and in suspense.
- am trying to muster up the motivation to actually do something productive with the kids this afternoon that might make me feel like a better mummy. This may be tough though, as both dinner and our overflowing laundry are beckoning...
Stay tuned for more exciting adventures in domesticity! Will the action never end?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
200 Posts Old!
What a momentous occasion!And it's my little sister's 25th b'day: happy quarter century, Ang!
And...not more importantly, but still worth mentioning, my improvised solo from Las Vegas is now online at FameWave - so if you feel so inclined, even if you've seen it before, please pretty please won't you visit it and give it a rating? Preferably a nice one, but you know...I'm not fussy.
Check it out by clicking here.
And happy 200 posts to all Comic Mummy readers - I love both of you dearly.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The Next Chapter
So my hubby is soon to graduate. That's right, after four years of slaving away, he will finally be a teacher, hugely employable (we hope) in each and every corner of the world.
Two words: THANK GOD.
He started uni literally two weeks before Ella was born you see, and I'm just so thrilled to think that the screams I let out during labour will finally be surpassed in volume by the screams I'll be letting out at graduation. Woo-bloody-hoo!
Not that we haven't enjoyed the novelty of raising two kids on a student income. Not that it's not empowering to realise that if you were stranded on an island, you would be okay so long as you had potatoes.Not that it isn't romantic to be given library books for Valentine's Day (hey, that was actually super practical, don't knock it til you've tried it).
But...four years later: we're kinda over it.
So here we are, bracing ourselves - in a gleeful way - for the next chapter of our lives. Our kids are getting more independent (and more fun to be with!) every day, so combining that with finally living above the poverty line is so appealing that I may just burst into song. In fact, I think I shall. Excuse me.
Two words: THANK GOD.
He started uni literally two weeks before Ella was born you see, and I'm just so thrilled to think that the screams I let out during labour will finally be surpassed in volume by the screams I'll be letting out at graduation. Woo-bloody-hoo!
Not that we haven't enjoyed the novelty of raising two kids on a student income. Not that it's not empowering to realise that if you were stranded on an island, you would be okay so long as you had potatoes.Not that it isn't romantic to be given library books for Valentine's Day (hey, that was actually super practical, don't knock it til you've tried it).
But...four years later: we're kinda over it.
So here we are, bracing ourselves - in a gleeful way - for the next chapter of our lives. Our kids are getting more independent (and more fun to be with!) every day, so combining that with finally living above the poverty line is so appealing that I may just burst into song. In fact, I think I shall. Excuse me.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Proof that I've gotta work a bit harder at this whole 'life balance' thing...
Caleb (as I'm tucking him into bed): "Do doe pig?"
Translation = "You go gig?"
**
Cue violins.
Oprah - where the hell are you when I need you?
Translation = "You go gig?"
**
Cue violins.
Oprah - where the hell are you when I need you?
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Three Cool Things
1. I have entered the world of education, dear friends, in the form of an improv workshop (part of the deal with the grant) whereby I'm sharing heaps of the stuff I learned in the US with my fellow comics, improvisers and other interested parties. And...I'm LOVING it! It's so awesome to work with people who want to be there. Plus I've realised that on top of all the stuff I learned improv wise in the states, I've also learned a ton about how to actually teach it. Bonus? I think so.
2. My review of 31 Circus Acts in 30 minutes is online here (under the "Theatre" section).
3. My reviews of Michael Pollock's musical improv books are online here. Yes they're gushy, but hey, every word is true. What can I say? The guy is my hero. So...nyahdinyahdinyahnyah.
I used to be a little ambivalent about Saturdays, but now I think they rock.
2. My review of 31 Circus Acts in 30 minutes is online here (under the "Theatre" section).
3. My reviews of Michael Pollock's musical improv books are online here. Yes they're gushy, but hey, every word is true. What can I say? The guy is my hero. So...nyahdinyahdinyahnyah.
I used to be a little ambivalent about Saturdays, but now I think they rock.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Elation!
I love these guys - they're funky and friendly and full of phat funk. (I don't even know what that means, but let's just go with it.)And their poster just arouses the groove within: heck, I'm feeling groovy pieces of groove I didn't even know were groovable.
So...either check 'em out or check you out.
Dawg.
Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam!
So you open your e-mail, all innocent like, delete the billion or so e-mails that are quite obviously spam, but then every now and then one slips through the cracks.
One from "Erica" with a subject title like "re: meeting up next week?"
One that actually makes you think for a second, 'hang on, maybe I do know an Erica, and maybe we did talk about meeting up next week?'
One that sucks you into the illusion that you might actually be speaking with a friend.
So you open it, only to find...CAN'T GET IT UP? OUR NEW WONDER MEDICATION WILL FIX ALL YOUR BED-TIME PROBLEMS! GIVE HER EVERYTHING SHE'S EVER DREAMED OF! SHE'LL BE THANKING YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You recoil with a shriek, searching for that elusive damn delete button, until the little over-friendly message from a 'pal' has disappeared from sight, leaving you bruised, battered and trying to catch your breath.
'Erica' - you suck.
One from "Erica" with a subject title like "re: meeting up next week?"
One that actually makes you think for a second, 'hang on, maybe I do know an Erica, and maybe we did talk about meeting up next week?'
One that sucks you into the illusion that you might actually be speaking with a friend.
So you open it, only to find...CAN'T GET IT UP? OUR NEW WONDER MEDICATION WILL FIX ALL YOUR BED-TIME PROBLEMS! GIVE HER EVERYTHING SHE'S EVER DREAMED OF! SHE'LL BE THANKING YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You recoil with a shriek, searching for that elusive damn delete button, until the little over-friendly message from a 'pal' has disappeared from sight, leaving you bruised, battered and trying to catch your breath.
'Erica' - you suck.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Next Comedy Tour: with family in tow
I just realised that I haven't even told you about the next crazy adventure that's coming up - in mid-November, the entire family (that's right, Tim, me, the kids and our sleep deprivation) are going on the road for the next wacked out comedy tour.
AAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Whether that's a scream of excitement or horror, only time will tell.
Our ultimate destination is Sydney - namely cos I'm doing a writing internship on The Glasshouse plus some stand-up gigs - but we will be pacing ourselves with stops and shows at Nimbin (where I'm performing again at the Blue Moon Cabaret), Byron Bay, Bangalow, Forster and wherever else a gig might stick its sweet little head up along the way.
Three things are for sure:
1. It will be madness.
2. It will be unpredictable.
3. It will be blogged.
AAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Whether that's a scream of excitement or horror, only time will tell.
Our ultimate destination is Sydney - namely cos I'm doing a writing internship on The Glasshouse plus some stand-up gigs - but we will be pacing ourselves with stops and shows at Nimbin (where I'm performing again at the Blue Moon Cabaret), Byron Bay, Bangalow, Forster and wherever else a gig might stick its sweet little head up along the way.
Three things are for sure:
1. It will be madness.
2. It will be unpredictable.
3. It will be blogged.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Ella's Version of an Ultimatum
"Mummy, either you take me to the park now, or I'm going to give you a big fart."
Where, oh where did I go wrong?
Where, oh where did I go wrong?
Monday, October 02, 2006
Who said TV was bad?
Well, whoever you are...you obviously haven't had the week I've had.
Frankly, TV can rock. And here's some reasons why:
Without television...I would never have been able to sit back and enjoy the thrill of introducing my little tikes to The Sound of Music. "Brace yourself kids," I said, tucking us all up under my favourite funky doona in preparation for their first ever viewing of my all-time favourite childhood movie, "this is a momumentous occasion." And aside from flashing back to my bitter disappointment at Julie Andrews' failure to reply to an impassioned fan letter, it was.
Without television...I would never have been able to sit back and enjoy my latest (and late!) comedic discovery of Wallace and Gromet. The "Were-Rabbit" movie aroused a chortle factor of 'serious', just as the first half of this sentence aroused a tosser factor of 'beyond help'.
And finally, without television...the low-cost babysitter would be but a myth.
Frankly, TV can rock. And here's some reasons why:
Without television...I would never have been able to sit back and enjoy the thrill of introducing my little tikes to The Sound of Music. "Brace yourself kids," I said, tucking us all up under my favourite funky doona in preparation for their first ever viewing of my all-time favourite childhood movie, "this is a momumentous occasion." And aside from flashing back to my bitter disappointment at Julie Andrews' failure to reply to an impassioned fan letter, it was.
Without television...I would never have been able to sit back and enjoy my latest (and late!) comedic discovery of Wallace and Gromet. The "Were-Rabbit" movie aroused a chortle factor of 'serious', just as the first half of this sentence aroused a tosser factor of 'beyond help'.
And finally, without television...the low-cost babysitter would be but a myth.
An awkward moment
So I was at a pitching workshop today, which was pretty cool - I learned a rather chunky amount about how to best pitch your film/tv projects. All forty-one of us then got up and 'pitched' our projects to the panel with a strict two-minute deadline.
Mine went okay - the first sixty seconds went great guns but then I got a little preoccupied with squeezing a ridiculous amount of info about the concept into the final minute, the irony being that in the process I completely forgot to include two crucial points I'd been beating myself over the head with beforehand (I believe my exact coaching prompt to myself was "Now say whatever you want, but for heaven's sakes, just make sure you mention XXXX!!!!")
Oh dear.
So I had absolutely no delusions that my pitch would be chosen to go onto the next 'round' (it was a kinda workshop/competition, you see) - but perked up right before they announced the winners, when an older guy and fellow pitcher nudged me on the shoulder:
Old dude: "I just wanted to tell you, you did very well."
Me: "Oh, thank you."
Old dude: "If I was a producer with lots of money, I'd fund yours."
Me: "Oh thanks, that's very nice of you."
Old dude: "Yours is the Christmas show, isn't it?"
Awkward pause.
Me: "No."
Old dude: "It's not?"
Me: "No, no."
Me pointing to the twenty-something girl in front of me (who, might I point out, looked NOTHING like me at all).
Me: "I think you mean her."
Him: "Oh, I'm so sorry."
Me wondering if I'd feel the same way if he'd come up, patted my belly and said "Wow, congrats on the baby!"
Him nudging the girl on the shoulder.
Him: "I just wanted to tell you, you did very well. If I was a producer..." etc
Him strolling off, catching my eye again.
Him: "I'm sorry about that."
Me: "No, no, it's cool. At least I got an anecdote out of it."
Thank God for blogging, huh?
Mine went okay - the first sixty seconds went great guns but then I got a little preoccupied with squeezing a ridiculous amount of info about the concept into the final minute, the irony being that in the process I completely forgot to include two crucial points I'd been beating myself over the head with beforehand (I believe my exact coaching prompt to myself was "Now say whatever you want, but for heaven's sakes, just make sure you mention XXXX!!!!")
Oh dear.
So I had absolutely no delusions that my pitch would be chosen to go onto the next 'round' (it was a kinda workshop/competition, you see) - but perked up right before they announced the winners, when an older guy and fellow pitcher nudged me on the shoulder:
Old dude: "I just wanted to tell you, you did very well."
Me: "Oh, thank you."
Old dude: "If I was a producer with lots of money, I'd fund yours."
Me: "Oh thanks, that's very nice of you."
Old dude: "Yours is the Christmas show, isn't it?"
Awkward pause.
Me: "No."
Old dude: "It's not?"
Me: "No, no."
Me pointing to the twenty-something girl in front of me (who, might I point out, looked NOTHING like me at all).
Me: "I think you mean her."
Him: "Oh, I'm so sorry."
Me wondering if I'd feel the same way if he'd come up, patted my belly and said "Wow, congrats on the baby!"
Him nudging the girl on the shoulder.
Him: "I just wanted to tell you, you did very well. If I was a producer..." etc
Him strolling off, catching my eye again.
Him: "I'm sorry about that."
Me: "No, no, it's cool. At least I got an anecdote out of it."
Thank God for blogging, huh?
Friday, September 29, 2006
What the heck?
As Tim's grand-dad would say.
What the heck is going on with my blog?
For the life of me, I can't get the blog entries to load
properly up the top. If anyone out there has even the slightest bit of tech savvy to help me fix this, I will reward you with...appreciation. HA! If that's not a valuable commodity in this day and age, then I don't know what is.
What the heck is going on with my blog?
For the life of me, I can't get the blog entries to load
properly up the top. If anyone out there has even the slightest bit of tech savvy to help me fix this, I will reward you with...appreciation. HA! If that's not a valuable commodity in this day and age, then I don't know what is.
On Tattoos
I've just been checking out a conversation on the humble tattoo, over at Vibewire. And I thought I'd re-post my thoughts here, seeing as:
a) I haven't written on this topic before; and
b) it's Friday; and ergo
c) I'm too lazy to think up something more original.
Basically, when it comes to tattoos, I'm a fan. However, I
do shout out a big 'beware!' to all who are pondering 'to tatt or not to tatt' - what you should know, no, what you MUST
know, is this: tattoos are addictive!
I have two - one on my lower tum-tum, which, since going through 2 pregnancies now looks less like a beautiful dove flying through eternity and more like a hardened magpie struggling through a cyclone.
BUT...at least it's now truly original.
My second one is on my lower back (yes, I'm one of THOSE people) and was done on a whim (actually it was almost a dare), but years later I'm happy to report that I still love it.
But...every few months or so, I feel that itch to get another. Will I or won't I? Who knows? Ooh, the anticipation! Please, pop a sedative and sit down, won't you?
But the point is, be warned: tattoos are like Pringles - once you pop, you can't stop!
Though hopefully you wouldn't actually 'pop' during the
event, but you know...the sentiment's the same. :-)
a) I haven't written on this topic before; and
b) it's Friday; and ergo
c) I'm too lazy to think up something more original.
Basically, when it comes to tattoos, I'm a fan. However, I
do shout out a big 'beware!' to all who are pondering 'to tatt or not to tatt' - what you should know, no, what you MUST
know, is this: tattoos are addictive!
I have two - one on my lower tum-tum, which, since going through 2 pregnancies now looks less like a beautiful dove flying through eternity and more like a hardened magpie struggling through a cyclone.
BUT...at least it's now truly original.
My second one is on my lower back (yes, I'm one of THOSE people) and was done on a whim (actually it was almost a dare), but years later I'm happy to report that I still love it.
But...every few months or so, I feel that itch to get another. Will I or won't I? Who knows? Ooh, the anticipation! Please, pop a sedative and sit down, won't you?
But the point is, be warned: tattoos are like Pringles - once you pop, you can't stop!
Though hopefully you wouldn't actually 'pop' during the
event, but you know...the sentiment's the same. :-)
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Real Comedians Don't Cry (or Apologise)
Sorry bout that little outburst yesterday, folks.
Rest assured I am now back to cheery delusions of
invincibility.
Stay tuned: Less morbid thoughts...coming to a blog near you!!!
Rest assured I am now back to cheery delusions of
invincibility.
Stay tuned: Less morbid thoughts...coming to a blog near you!!!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
This entry is likely to contain no humour whatsover: you have been warned
Ella: "I don't want you to die."
Me: "Why do you say that?"
Ella: "Because you're going to die soon."
Insert chills here.
I know it's probably just kids being kids and all that, but for some reason, my four-year-old daughter speaking those
words has really rattled me. Well...not 'for some reason' but 'for some very specific reasons'! Okay, okay, I usually try and steer clear of the personal stuff on this
blog, but...what the heck? If I am going out soon, then I'm not taking the personal stuff with me!!!
Firstly, dying young has always been something I have not only been worried about, but have in a sense, been convinced would happen to me. Namely cos my own mother died when she was 33 (I was 5 and my sister 2) and so...put two and two together and all that. Not really rational, but a lifelong paranoia nonetheless.
Secondly, I'm now 27. It has always freaked me out that a lot of people seem to die at 27. I spose a lot of people die at
any given age, but 27 has definitely attracted some attention - Jeff (and Tim) Buckley, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison...I'm sure there's more too...the point is, it's just plain spooky and I am just plain 27.
Thirdly, I guess all the 'Crocodile Hunter' stuff has spurred off some death-oriented thoughts - just the reality of seeing someone so full of life, suddenly devoid of it, freaks me out. And especially thinking about kids growing up without a parent (which is not a Croc Hunter exclusive scenario, obviously: there are millions if not billions of people out there who've lost someone they love), well...there you have it. I
can honestly say that the thought of my kids growing up without me there to see it...worst nightmare ever. Even worse than the one where Hannibal Lector invades my house while Mariah Carey sings from inside a bird-cage. Duh.
So...the bottom line is that I'm trying to see all these thoughts (and Ella's contribution to morning conversation) as not so much a morbid premonition, but as a catalyst to really reassess my priorities.
I mean, indulging just for a momen the idea that I am to die 'soon' - what do I really want to do with my time from this point onward?
Hmmmmmm........
Me: "Why do you say that?"
Ella: "Because you're going to die soon."
Insert chills here.
I know it's probably just kids being kids and all that, but for some reason, my four-year-old daughter speaking those
words has really rattled me. Well...not 'for some reason' but 'for some very specific reasons'! Okay, okay, I usually try and steer clear of the personal stuff on this
blog, but...what the heck? If I am going out soon, then I'm not taking the personal stuff with me!!!
Firstly, dying young has always been something I have not only been worried about, but have in a sense, been convinced would happen to me. Namely cos my own mother died when she was 33 (I was 5 and my sister 2) and so...put two and two together and all that. Not really rational, but a lifelong paranoia nonetheless.
Secondly, I'm now 27. It has always freaked me out that a lot of people seem to die at 27. I spose a lot of people die at
any given age, but 27 has definitely attracted some attention - Jeff (and Tim) Buckley, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison...I'm sure there's more too...the point is, it's just plain spooky and I am just plain 27.
Thirdly, I guess all the 'Crocodile Hunter' stuff has spurred off some death-oriented thoughts - just the reality of seeing someone so full of life, suddenly devoid of it, freaks me out. And especially thinking about kids growing up without a parent (which is not a Croc Hunter exclusive scenario, obviously: there are millions if not billions of people out there who've lost someone they love), well...there you have it. I
can honestly say that the thought of my kids growing up without me there to see it...worst nightmare ever. Even worse than the one where Hannibal Lector invades my house while Mariah Carey sings from inside a bird-cage. Duh.
So...the bottom line is that I'm trying to see all these thoughts (and Ella's contribution to morning conversation) as not so much a morbid premonition, but as a catalyst to really reassess my priorities.
I mean, indulging just for a momen the idea that I am to die 'soon' - what do I really want to do with my time from this point onward?
Hmmmmmm........
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