And now an urgent news-break

Forgive me if this entry is a little incoherent. My mind is buzzing enough to generate its own heat and my hands are shaking enough to make one wicked cocktail.

Come with me, would you, on a little flashback (earlier this afternoon to be precise, 2.18pm if we're being pedantic.)

I pull into our driveway, ready to unload my mammoth grocery shop, when my eye catches an envelope sticking out of the letterbox. Or more specifically, catches the logo on the envelope: Brisbane City Council.

I sigh. I know what this is. I applied for this grant, you see, A Lord Mayor’s Emerging Performing Artists’ Fellowship and have been expecting to hear the results any day. I glance at the envelope again. It’s thin.

Bummer.

I pull myself out of the car, undo the boot and start taking my stuff upstairs, leaving the envelope of disappointment alone in the letterbox. On my next trip down, I decide that as if unpacking groceries doesn’t suck enough, I’m damned if I’m going to torture myself with the impending doom at the same time.

I rip open the envelope and don’t even bother unfolding the piece of paper. I flip it over and read:

“It is with great pleasure that I advise you of the success of your application to the 2006 Lord Mayor’s Young and Emerging Artists Fellowships.”

“You have been awarded $15,500.00 to travel to the USA to undertake three weeks of intensive improvisation training.”

HOLY. HECK.

BATMAN.

I stand dead still with my hand clasped over my mouth for a full three and a half minutes. I then commence giggling like a complete idiot (a state which I continue to burst into sporadically throughout the rest of the afternoon) and ring people to share my amazing news in between ramblings of disbelief and panic at the thought of how much I have to organize.

SO….the bottom line is that at the end of July, people, JULY! I shall be taking on New York, Boston and Las Vegas for three weeks of comedy and improv training with Second City and Daena Giardella, the best that the jolly good old US of A has to offer. I still cannot believe it, even as I type it. But here I am blogging it, so it must be real.

Oh and before you ask, the answer is yes: I’ll be blogging the entire thing.

OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hormones, hormones and losing touch

Angelina Jolie, eat your heart out.

This is my beloved Frankie with the little angel of newborn goodness that is completely sending me nutty with hormonal desire. (And as a side-note, how the hell can anybody look this good hours after childbirth without a Vanity Fair team on the case? Time out, Frankie. Time out.)

Seriously, when I was holding dear little Charlotte the other day there was a split second where I was just like "YEP. That's it. I'm having another one. End of conversation."

Not that it was really a conversation with anybody other than myself, but you get the point. Thankfully I'm a really good debater and within minutes had delivered (to myself) an absolutely killer rebuttal, thus talking myself out of my absolute certainty that I should breed immediately.

The puter is still holding on, but barely. Thank you for your flowers, donations and notes of support. We have been overwhelmed. Truly.

But in the spirit of looking on the bright side, here are...

The Best 5 Things About Not Having Internet Access On Tap

1. I am writing (by writing I mean actual stuff I might get paid for plus comedy material) TONS

2. I have at least four hours extra in the evenings with which to attack whatever household task I choose. Last night I actually sorted out three completely separate and unrelated piles of clutter that have been the bane of my existence for over twelve months. Productivity - give me a 'P'!

3. The only pop ups I have to deal with are filled with juice

4. I am actually on top of my laundry pile (not literally cos that would just be gross, and what am I? Revolting?) for the first time EVER. Unfortunately Ella has decided to seize this same week to explore the wonders of bed-wetting. It's like "you sucker mama, you think you can handle the washing? Well handle THIS!!!!" (insert-sound-of-urinating-on-bedsheet-here) One night she was even in our bed when it happened. This alone is soooo enough of a reason to stay married: can you imagine trying to explain to your one-night-stand why his leg is wet and stinky?

5. I'm being forced to break boundaries with my artistry through time-capped blog entries. This forces me to write stuff like pathetic 'top 5' lists. Wow. Talk about living on the edge. Is it just me or is anyone else reading this getting Vertigo?

So there, every crap computer has a silver keyboard.

Oh dear...*contemplating last sentence*...on second thought, maybe my lack of cyber-life of late is just making me lose touch.

HELP!!!!!!!!!!!

Addictions that are hard to kick

1. Comedy

2. Blogging

3. Caffeine

I desperately need a support group and/or patches for all three.

In other news, our computer has taken a turn for the worse - we're expecting it to leave us for a better place any day now, so would appreciate some privacy at this very distressing time. In light of my thus restricted blogging time, I will release the following exclusive tid-bits about my life at present. But please, do not contact us for more details. You will receive a terse 'no comment'.

I AM:

• officially in love with Frankie's little baby Charlotte, who I properly met today. My clucky meter has skyrocketed and my uterus is throbbing. Damn you Frankie with your damn placid little piece of bubba, offering nothing to this world but untouched beauty. Damn you for luring me to your den of blissed out reproduction. Damn you to hell!!!!!
  
• reading "Crime and Punishment" for the first time and actually getting into it. Between that and the latest "Family Circle", I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself.
  
• writing TONS of comedy at the moment - the other night alone I was so incredibly inspired by the country storm that hit while we were visiting Tim's dad out in the country (so inspiring that it actually blew up the television set - now THAT'S what I call creative destruction!) that I wrote not one, not two, but THREE entirely new comedy songs. And they're my new favourites. So there, Frankie! You can have your damn cute baby and I'll have my damn cute songs. At least my new babies don't bite my boobies.
  
• excited to have started workshopping my full-length comedy show with my lovely friend/improv coach/mentor Anne Pensalfini, just this very afternoon in fact. It's so wonderful to have the benefit of an outsider's eye who knows your strengths and weaknesses - plus I actually had apple & cranberry tea to offer her and thus was able to perform my little heart out while maintaining the illusion of being a great house-keeper. I'm such a fraud sometimes it kills me.

Well, that's about the wrap-up folks. So yeah, until further notice, I'll be limited to blogging only when I can get hold of a public computer. Or until I can get my a into g and hook my laptop up to the net.

Then again...it's probably a good thing to spend a little more time in the real world. My kids do need to be fed*, after all.

*Where the hell was that in the contract?

Things that make me envious and/or chuckle

My best friend Frankie had her baby last night!!! A little girl, the news of which is making me feel all mushy and jealous and even flirting again with the idea of having another. But don't freak out (just find a happy place, breathe deeply and put the peanut-butter away) I'm definitely not going down that path for at least a while, namely because:

a) We've gotta get through the madness of this year (with Tim on teaching prac and all) and get our relationship a billion times better before we can contemplate another stressor. Even if that stressor happens to be cute and little and innocent and so cuddly and nice-smelling and...

BOOF!

Sorry, that was me smacking sense into myself.

b) We seriously want to get overseas next year and while that's still possible with three, my mummy-senses are telling me that it'd be quite a bit easier just with two (just fuzz up my hair and call me Einstein).

c) I've gotta wait til Frankie's finished breastfeeding so we can at least have one crazy girls-night-out before getting up the duff myself. There's no WAY I'm going two years straight without a single Frankie & Jen paint-the-town-red adventure. That's like asking me to give up dark chocolate. NEVER gonna happen, so please...let it go.

In completely unrelated news, my daughter is cracking me up no end with her bizarre rantings.

Last night...

Me: Alright kiddo time to wash your hands for dinner!

Ella: Whatever Trevor.

At least I know where she got that one. :-)

But I'm at a loss as for where she got this next one...

This morning...

Ella: I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU!!!!

Me: Yes you are yelling at me and you need to stop it or you'll be going into the dungeon of doom....(um, did I just type that? Sorry, I meant:) the bathroom.

Ella: Oh mummy, what would you know about true love?

What the?

But I'll leave you with her all-time favourite insult of the moment:

Ella: I don't believe you and nobody is going to believe you...EVER.

Have a great weekend everybody!

This morning: a sure-fire hit

TITLE: "A morning at Jen's Place"

Scene 1

A children's playground.

Jenny sits on a park-bench with Ella and Caleb, the three of them munching away on ***** brand chocolate bar (like hell I'm name-dropping them without proper paid product placement. Try saying that four times fast.)

An old-ish woman walks by, catches sight of the incredibly suger-laden diet being bestowed upon these two poor innocent creatures of goodness and glares very meanly at Jenny.

Very meanly.

As Jenny contemplates her next move, we dissolve to:

Scene 2

Earlier that morning...

The downstairs studio. Jenny, in an attempt to make herself feel like an actual 'good' mummy, spends the morning helping the kids to draw, write and resist the urge to hurl the basketball at the book-case.

All is calm, all is quiet, all is lovely. In fact if you listen closely you might even be able to hear the soundtrack to "The Mikado" in the background. Or not. Whatever, this is just the script, you can hear whatever you want.

CUT TO:

Scene 3

4 minutes later...

Jenny: NOOOOOO!!!!!

Ella: NOOOOO!!!!!

Caleb: YAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!

SLAM!

Caleb has slammed the dead-locked door to the house shut, thereby locking Jenny and Ella out and himself in.

Ella: Oh no, Mummy, we can't get in!

Jenny: It's okay, let's try the front door. (Note to actor: this should be played with outer calm but inner rage. Only an actor of pure brilliance could pull this off. Failing that, we'll just stick an ugly prosthetic nose on you.)

Ella: Caleb, that was very naughty!!!

CUT TO:

Scene 4

2 minutes later...

At the front door.

Jenny and Ella alternate knocking and screaming, trying to entice Caleb to the front room.

Jenny: Caleb! Caleb!

Ella: CALEB COME HERE YOU NAUGHTY STUPID BOY!!!

Jenny: Ella that's not nice. (adopting a nice voice) Caleb come here you naughty stupid boy!

Ella: Oh NOOO!!! He's not coming!!!

CUT TO:

Scene 5

2 minutes later

At back door.

Jenny: CALEB!!!! Go to the front room!

Scene 6

CUT TO:

1 minute later

Jenny and Ella circle the house trying to find that elusive open window. It is a mission that proves fruitless.

Ella: Holy banana benders batman, looks like we're in a spot of trouble!

(note to reader: some of this script has been fictionalised for dramatic purposes. Which bits is for you to decide)

CUT TO:

Scene 7

12 minutes later

At front door again.

A dishevelled, dehydrated and desperate Jenny is on her knees, her face stained with tears and her back dripping with blood. Why? We'll never know.

Jenny: Caleb. Caleb. Caleb.

Ella: He's not coming, mama.

Jenny: Caleb....

A dramatic pause. Did you feel that? Wasn't it dramatic?

Jenny: Caleb...do you want....CHOCOLATE?

A beat.

Cue climactic resolution music, as Caleb comes running joyously through the house to the front door, unlocking it with the ease of an Olympic Pole-Vaulter stepping over a turtle.

All: Oh Caleb, oh Ella, oh Mummy, oh Batman, etc...

We dissolve to:

Scene 8

PresentTime

We are back in the park, where the old woman has just delivered a filthy 'you revolting unfit-to-own-a-kitten-let-alone-breed-your-own-kind' look from hell.

Jenny smiles sweetly.

JENNY: It was this or a lock-smith. And chocolate's cheaper.

The old woman scowls, spits and suddenly begins to mutate: this is no innocent old lady, this is Hannibal Lector!

Hannibal: Tell me about the lambs, Jenny, tell me abou....

POW!

Before the freaky old woman/Hannibal can utter another syllable, Jenny whips out her very handy pocket-size blow-torch and fries the cannibal to a deep-fried perfection.

Before the smoke has even cleared, Ella looks up at mummy and says...

Ella: I want another chocolate!

Jenny: (looks directly to camera and shrugs) What can I say? It's been one of those mornings.

THE END

But do bloggers like being blogged about?

I just stumbled across Mrs Mogul, a fabulous blog (well, I didn't so much stumble as bump straight into it via my comments' section) which sparked off some pretty interesting thoughts in my sleep-deprived head about whether people like being blogged about or not. Specifically other bloggers.

It had never really occurred to me that people WOULDN'T want to be blogged about, unless of course, you were reporting something majorly personal. But then, as I found out this week, sometimes people don't like what you write. Even if you may have a very valid point to make. (Ehem, did I just type that? I'm sorry, for a moment there I thought I was talking to my hubby.)

Yeah, so I guess some people don't like being 'blogged'. But then others do and indeed, often even see doing so as a nice gesture. I've been really getting more into the blog thing lately (if, by 'getting more into', you mean 'solidifying a serious addiction') and in doing so have witnessed many generous and awesome linkages to other bits of worthy 'net-splatter', as my mate Gempires calls it.

I LOVE this. I just think it is so cool that as writers online, we are not restricted to simply popping up the text and that's it, but purely through that incomprehensible-to-my-mind thing called technology, we can immediately open up doors for each other to entire other worlds of writing, and beyond. Pictures. Videos. Random pop-up boxes advertising you stuff you've never even heard of, let alone need. All this stuff would simply blow the mind right off my grandmother's head. (You think I'm exaggerating? There's a reason she's terrified of computers, you know.)

But most of all, I love that there are people in the blogosphere who can and do extend a hand to help encourage and support each others' blogs. Even those bloggers who already have a huge following and their blog takes up enough of their own thought-life there's barely room to remember to shave, still...some of them are willing to share the love around.

As someone who's only been blogging hard-core for a few months (and am already on the waiting list to have my eye surgically removed from my navel), I find that notion not only cool, but something to aspire to.

Rock on, people! It's not quite the Age of Aquarius (and I KNOW I'm not getting nude, I don't care how many nice posts you write) but seriously..."Can You Feel the Love Tonight??!!!