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.

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?

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.

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. :-)

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!!!

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........