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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

• 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!

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!

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!

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!!!!!!!!!!

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.

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!!

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.

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...

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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....