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.

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.

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?

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?