It's getting personal...

Oh yeah, and I've decided to let you know about another blog I've had going on the sly for a little while - it's for the more personal and sometimes juicier stuff that I don't want out there in public. The catch is it's on LiveJournal and you have to sign up as my friend to read it, so I can stay in charge of who's reading it.

Cos you know, I'm a control freak like that.

If you are particularly keen just go to www.livejournal.com, sign up for an account and I think you add me as a friend or something. My username is comicmummy (I do hope that helps and I sound all techno-savvy - it's one of my life goals).

Oh, and sorry I haven't gotten back to you lovely ladies about this shared-rant-blog idea. I think it's a ripper and I am keen, just have been a little frazzled for obvious reasons. I'll try to get onto it next week!!

And finally some good news...

I just got a letter today saying I've been given $3000 from Arts Queensland to take part in the Loose Moose Theatre International Improvisation School in Canada later on this year.

I'm stoked without a doubt - I just wish my emotional state wasn't in such a fluster and I could give this news the fully fledged 'WOOT' that it deserves.

I'm sure it will come.

An ode to the Late Lord Cheeks

Still feeling crappy, have to psyche myself up somehow for this important corporate gig tonight. I wish they had anti-sadness comedy drugs you could take for this kinda thing. Suggestions, anyone??? PS They have to be legal.

Anyway, I just found this entry from last year: reading Chris's comments upset me again, but in a good way. I guess if there's a lesson to be learned here (and I think there are many) it's that if you have something nice to say to someone, say it now!!! Cos, while I forgot all about this, I'm glad it happened.

Peace out.

An ode to Lord Cheeks
This is a little poem for my dear friend and fellow comic-in-crime Chris Daniel:

Dear Chris you know it's often said
That men are just from Mars
Well I don't think that is true
Cos most I've met are found in bars.

But that's beside the point you see
The reason that I'm writing
Is to say I think you rock the world
With your manner so inviting.

You give advice (and car-rides too)
Which makes me feel quite happy
Your marriage even inspires me
To make mine not so crappy.

So thank you Chris for being nice
Like pancakes gooed with honey
But most of all, I thank you Chris
For being cool AND funny!

*Disclaimer: the crappy quality of poetry contained within is by no means any reflection on the poem's subject. Chris Daniel is in no way cliched, crappy, nor does he resort to dodgy rhythms to achieve rhyme. At least, not usually.

Chris D wrote:
Cheeks Malone is my Porn star name. My first pet was called Cheeks and I used to live on Malone St in London. Thanks to Jen for the kind words - she's been just as supportive to me... New boy in Oz with no friends: The comedy word has been incredible to me - I look around the comic world and despite the jealousy that can arise - there is also the cream and my comic mummy is the best of them all. I am deeply touched... and not in the way that gets you arrested... Love you Jen

And now back to Brisvegas

The Sydney trip has gone surprisingly well. Not in a life-changing kind of way, more in a feeling-shocked-and-thus-not-really-feeling-like-heading-to-anywhere kinda way.

In summary I:

- met Rory McLeod at the Brissie air-port before my flight down. He remembered me too, from our phone interview on ZZZ and was such a lovely, humble and friendly chap. One to tick off the 'people I want to meet' list.

- went and checked out 'Scrabble Unscripted', an improv show at new Sydney venue The Factory. It was a cool format, plus I think I spotted Col Elliot in the audience.

- spent much of the days trudging the Sydney streets, boiling myself to buggery in the process and going for a swim on the wharf.

- managed to get it together for a lovely rocking gig for agiggle at the Roxbury Hotel in Glebe. Cool room, nice crowd plus I got to rub shoulders with my lovely ex-Brissie comedy mate Matt Okine, as well as the lovely Delores. They seemed keen to get me back, plus there's a possibility of scoring some corporate improv work too. YAY!

- scored a bargain second-hand copy of Gene Wilder's autobiography, which I'm devouring with relish. Not corn relish, cos that would be weird.

So back to Bris in an hour - Chris Daniel's funeral is gonna be this Wednesday and us musical comics of Brissie are going to be performing a song together at the service.

In summary: it's been a massively cool couple of days and it's gonna be a massively emotional week.

Thank you

Thanks to everybody who's sent through nice messages and stuff in light of yesterday's horrendous news. I'll write more about it some other time. Right now I'm in Sydney, trying to keep my head screwed on straight and hoping like hell that I keep it together for this gig tomorrow night.

But for now I just wanna say thanks to all you guys and RIP to one of the best guys in the whole world, Chris Daniel.

Uncomfortably Numb

A dear friend of mine has died.

I am not disclosing his details until enough time has passed that people who knew him have heard the shocking news via a medium other than a blog.

I'm having trouble organising my thoughts.

I went to the dentist this morning, got a filling and then straight after I walked out the door, turned my phone on and received the news via text message. I stood there, just saying "What? What? WHAT?" just staring at my phone and yelling it over and over while the odd passer-by looked uncomfortable.

As I started making phone calls and walking to nowhere in particular, it struck me that I - in grand human tradition - am only realising how much he really meant to me, now that he is gone.

The dentist, then this.

I am truly numb.

Attention all Brissie folk

If you're a local, come to this!

Sydney here I come...again

So I've got a gig in Sydney this Friday: yay!

And it's being filmed for a DVD: yay!

But to get cheapie tix (starving artist, er, I mean cheapskate that I am) I have to head down Thursday afternoon: yay!-ish.

The thing is, while not so long ago the thought of having a trip away somewhere minus the kiddlies would have induced me to a state combining goose-bumps, shivers of delight and saliva, since I got back from the USA trip, when it comes to these things I've found myself with severe and unexpected separation anxiety.

I hate myself for even being so silly - it's hardly like they're going to be neglected, after all, but the truth of the matter is that I now HATE leaving my kids, even if it's only for a night or two. I've pinned it down to having flashbacks to my USA trip last year and while it was completely amazing and I never could have done it with kids in tow, I also recall how horrifically and painfully I missed them. I left a lot of that stuff off the blog at the time, but suffice to say I spent many nights cruising around looking so red-eyed that if it ever comes to light that there exists an image that 'all Aussies are stoners' in the American consciousness, you'll probably be able to track that back to me.

So anyway, Sydney will surely rock, it's only two nights away, but still...I feel like I just need a drill sargeant:

Sargeant: Quit your whining, you damn slime-sucking self-indulgent slug of a mama! A trip to Sydney, you silly woman: be thankful! Now sit down, shut up and give me twenty!

Yes sir.

Queensland Comedy Awards

There's a bit of contention over who actually even runs the Inaugral Qld Comedy Awards, but of course, all the comics in Brissie (including myself) are willing to overlook this in the chance that it is actually legit.

Anyway, the point is I'm nominated for Best Musical Act. So if you're at all voting inclined, feel free to vote for me by clicking here and sending them a message spouting your eternal love for all things Jen or whatever method of voting poetry floats your boat.

And if you're not voting inclined, that's cool too. After all, I'm crowned the 'Person Most Likely to Forget Your Birthday', a title which I never even needed to be voted into.

The Angelina Child Carrier

The ultimate yummy mummy just got...well, mummier, and I can't help but share this awesome invention from Gallery of the Absurd.

Damn I want one. All I'd add are some tubes that feed directly into the little blighters mouths plus some going in the other direction towards little bed pans, so you wouldn't even have to stop for fluids going in either direction.

Now that's efficiency.

You've lost that blogging feeling...

Stop the serenading now, please...I get it.

I suck. I'm terrible. You've all been tearing your hair out, jumping up and down and hosing down your bedroom walls with tomato sauce purely to spite me. Why, oh why, have I left it this long between blogs?

Well, my dears, there is one main reason for the state of things this week (incidentally, the title of one of my all-time favourite songs):

1. We have been uprooted from our home for the past week, vacating it so that my brother's girlfriend Sammy could have her family stay for the week of festival-like celebrations that marked her 21st birthday. I could write a lot more about this, but won't.

This is my dilemma - I WANT to write so many things on this blog but then can't, cos I've learned the hard way that assuming the people you're writing about won't ever stumble across said entry in cyberspace is as stupid as assuming that leaving a bottle of shaving cream on the bathroom floor won't be discovered and subsequently played with gleefully by your resident small children. Not that I've done that. Moving on.

I'm seriously thinking about keeping this blog for the generic 'wacka wacka' type entries on life, pop culture and funny comedic anecdotes, and moving the more personal or specific things I wish to blog about elsewhere. Not that I need another commitment in my life, but I do need an outlet. I'll keep you posted - if you're keen, comment or e-mail me and I'll be sure to let you in on the new 'secret' blog. So long as you're not freaky.

I've got those 'my-kid-takes-forever-on-the-toilet' blues

The other morning, I was completely pumped and ready to charge out the door on time. Miracle. Lunches packed, bags ready, everybody dressed and rearing to go. Victory was mine. Then...

Cay: "I need to go toilet."

Me: "No, no you don't. Not really. Just hold it. Like this, see?" (Picture me scrunching my face like a tissue. Or something).

Cay: "YES! I NEED go toilet!"

Me: "Nah...let's just wait..."

Cay: "TOILET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Me: "Okay. I surrender."

CUT TO:

35 minutes later, me now completely stressed and running late for my corporate character gig, Caleb's appetite for sitting on the toilet completely satiated (allow me to stress here that he does not suffer from constipation, just from an apparent obsession with taking his time with cleaning the pipes.)

Oh the humanity.

*Note 1: if you are at all grossed out by the contents within this blog, I do apologise. But then again, I feel all things considered, I was rather subtle. Ehem.

*Note 2: if Caleb, you are reading this in years to come and you are horrified at the notion of me publicising your bowel life on the internet, then I do apologise. But then again, you did far worse to me in childbirth so consider us even.

*Note 3: if anyone reading this has actual suggestions that may help, please comment away. Serious or otherwise.

That is all.

The Comic Mummy Turns 1!!!!!!!

Damn, I missed my own birthday! Oh well...it's not like I've had a lack of celebrating round here lately. Take for instance, this weekend just gone. I don't mean to brag, but we had THE MOST FANTASTIC WEEKEND OF OUR ENTIRE LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, I'll stop yelling now. But it was JUST SO AMAZ....okay, sorry. I'm seriously done now.

You see, my lovely hubby Tim has recently reached some major milestones, in that:

- he's about to turn 30;
- we're about to have our 5-year wedding anniversary;
- after four years of being a full-time student (with two small kids in tow), he's graduated;
- he's finally getting some regular, well paid teaching work; and thus
- he's feeling like a successful breadwinner.

Not that I buy into that whole 'man must provide for his family' thing, but the fact is that Tim has a spring in his step these days that I haven't seen for ages. If ever. And it's so so wonderful, so to celebrate, I organised a weekend chockers with surprises (having the kids minded by his folks was the first one) including:

- a drive to the Coast and breakfast at the same beach cafe where we had our wedding reception;
- a day and a night at a tropical beach retreat which basically involved lazing by the pool, walking through the fruit orchard and turning ourselves into prunes in the spa;
- an hour-long massage in the middle of the rainforest;
- dinner at a gorgeous Nepalese place in Kingscliff;
- a Ricky Gervais stand-up DVD (and NOOOO, that wasn't just for me, thank you very much! Tim has actually been genuinely getting into his comedy lately. I swear. Especially when I chain him to the chair and threaten him with a spray-can of Ajax.)
- uninterrupted sleep!
- extraordinary home cooked breakfast in that while it was cooked at home, it wasn't cooked by either of us; and
- a day at Wet'n'Wild water park!!!!!

Now, I know this all sounds spoiled rotten, and I'd hate to sound like one of those people who's always like "Ooh, my marriage is just so terrific! We're just hap-hap-happy all the time!"

But the thing is, it's so nice to finally be having a great time in our marriage, because to tell you the complete and honest truth: last year sucked. Oh yeah, it was great from my POV on the career front, but my family life suffered big-time. I won't go into details, but the bottom line is that it was tough, sucked much more than I ever let on in any blog entries (though my nearest and dearest reckon they picked up on it anyway) but that we made a joint decision to just hang in there.

And now that we're finally out of the stress of full-time study and therefore full-time poverty while raising full-time tiny kiddies, and now into the new chapter of having more work, a little more money (while we're still by no means rich, we certainly feel like we are!) and having slightly bigger and thus more independent kiddies, I'm sure glad that we stuck with it.

Just the other day my friend and blog-reader Mezza said to me "Gees, I've noticed there have been a lot of gushy I-love-Tim blog entries lately!"

"Have there?" I said. "I feel like I hardly ever write about him."

"I've definitely noticed!" she said.

Is it really that obvious? Okay, I'll try to tone it down from now on.

Let's hear it for the b-

Okay sorry. Done now.

The TV appearance I WON'T be plugging

Do you remember that episode of Sex in the City where Carrie is horrified to find herself on the cover of a major magazine sans make-up, sans stylish wardrobe and sans dignity?

Welcome to my morning.

Only, my fall from grace will not be broadcast in print, but on television: on a Channel 10 Kids Show, to be precise. Here's what happened:

- a friend of mine who works at the art gallery which cannot be named, asked me to bring my kids in this morning so that they could be the filmed talent for this kids show.

- I, of course, jumped at the chance to have an exciting activity with which to blackmail the kids into good behaviour.

- This plan, of course, backfired when the kids woke up at the crack of dawn this morning, BEGGING me to take them to the gallery right then and there.

- I, of course, proceeded to dress them up to the nines (by my standards, which is not saying much), and in the nagging rush out of the house, stepped out sans make-up, sans funky wardrobe, sans dignity. But no problem, right? They'd only be filming the kids, right?

WRONG.

My most exciting television appearance to date and I'm gonna look like a deshevelled homeless person who's got custody of the kids for the morning.

Why, God, WWWWWHHHHHHYYYYYY????????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!