Blast off

On Friday night Joanna treated the mistress to a night of hilarity, nostalgia and entertainment of the highest quality.

Not Dirty Dicks but Countdown Spectacular 2!!! I'll reserve the lech and wench themed carry-on for one's 43rd anniversary, bags your seats now!

The show was a four hour spectacular with a punctual 7.30 kick off and 20 minute interval. We got there early to have our bubbles and the delicious rolls that J had kindly prepared for our tea. I particularly savoured the camembert and sundried tomato variety.

The bell rang and a firm but fair sounding bird instructed us to get to our seats, we did. Once seated i surveyed the punters who consisted of some baby boomers, many generation jones (1954-1965 don't ye know. Well i only do because Nickers keeps me apprised of such matters - he gets to listen to Life Matters and I rarely have the opportunity), and a smattering of generations X, Whine and Z. I had a couple of gels from generation Z beside me who leapt up and hollered when Katrina and the Waves opened the show. I don't know what i found more curious their age or reaction to K and the W. Oh settle, bel , that is not the spirit for countdown spectacular.

Where does one begin with such a show. Do you know what, almost all of the performers were great, admittedly the majority only had one song to perfect, occasionally two or three.

Gavin Wood got us settled, Joanna found him too cas, but i rather liked his toode, not to mention his look. It was strangely soothing and womblesque.

Highlights for the mistress:

Supernaut - BIG NATCH. Only did i like it both ways but. Would have loved to have heard too hot to touch, and even i don't want to be unemployed for a bit of comic relief. The look of Gary Twinn (lead singer) has like completely changed (extraordinary after 30 years!) He looks like some kind of US daytime soap star/contestant for INXS singer comp. Perhaps I'm a little bit Kath Day-Knight but i preferred the perm with its peroxided streaks and the long scarves on bare chest image. The gels that I went with thought he was gorrrrrrrrgeous but. So there you go and his new look was worth sighting just to hear them sincerely saying "oh he is gorrrrrrrrrgeous." But the highlight was when they waved a banner which said "Gary u spunk".

The Radiators. Coming home. Tops.

Plastic Bertrand. He looks incredibly young, plastic by name...., so slim for such a middle aged mec and so energetic. Ca Plane Pour Moi was the first 45 I bought. So now that i have seen the stars of the first 45 and 33 i purchased play live i feel truly fulfilled. I didn't purchase a 78 but the first one i encountered was under the house and belonged to my grandfather. It was by Eartha Kitt. I haven't seen her perform live though. Oh so many memories triggered that night.

Bloke from Pilot. Magic. January. When he began singing "magic" he had to give up the ghost for fits of giggles - the audience's singing along was drowning him out.

Ignatius Jones. They won't let my girlfriend talk to me. I'm not like everybody else

Dave Mason. Quasimodo's dream.

Martha Motello. Total control. L out of lover. and another one. There was also some marriage proposal pantomime performance between her and Molly which then led to Molly talking about giving up the booze but not being able to give up the fags. The next day I watched Carry-on cruising on the television and was struck by its sophistication.

Squit from Racey. The two hits.

Wa wa nee. Most contemporary. Sugar free and stimulation. Paul Gray is the spectacular's musical director, which is rather a YTT Greg Millsish destiny. The back up band was pretty good and those backup singers, the Wolfgramm Sisters were sensational.

Rick Springfield. Jesse's girl. Don't talk to strangers. Speak to the sky.

Angels No Secrets. Long line. Ever see your face again - audience did that no way, get fucked, rack off reply - rack off always manages to sound ruder than f.o. The way Bobby from Home and Away uttered rack off made her sound like Summer Bay's answer to Frank from Blue Velvet. Positively xxxx rated delivery, my dears and goldLogieworthy.

Lots more but i need a breather.

Poor little Graham Bonnett was an utter dud but at least he appeared almost oblivious as he hectored "it's all over now, baby blue". Perhaps he should have gone with "warm ride", slightly less challenging. I had an awful vision of him at the end of the evening backstage going up to people saying '' great show, eh", and people smiling weakly at him then turning away. He'd swig back some booze and proceed to the next person, fishing for a complimentary comment about his performance, finally crumpling in a heap, seeking confirmation from the walls that he'd done a good show. Rocknroll can be a tough game, well, so i 've read.

If only cocking Katie Cebs would be struck by a bit of self-doubt. Landsakes what a totally smug article she can be. Sang trust me which was fine but then as she introduced the next song Love don't live here anymore, she had the gall to say that at the time i'm talking released its version someone else did a cover overseas (Madonna?) and scientology talking's was the best. Both seemed to be very closely modelled on the original by Rose Royce. And really such skiting was not in keeping with the event - anyone would have thought she'd made the top ten in Rhodesia.

Later in the show Les McKeown, Smanfa Fox, Sharon O'Neill, LRB, Molly, Squeak but now Chartbusters...

Like a heartbeat ... drives you mad

Since Brian banished me from my own musical (see Street of dreams post July 2006 - i prefer brackets to footnotes) I had no recourse but to put the precious fuck on ice. I made no contact, didn't return her majesty's calls, mildly dissed him in one subsequent posting and crossed the road upon any possible sighting. Unfortunately last week at the pedestrian crossing I was smiling my thanks at the driver for stopping to let me cross when my eyes looked directly into those of Brian who was smack bang behind the steering wheel. I hastily turned the other way, ricking my neck in the process.

But you know what, NSRs, Brian is one tenacious so and so. No sooner do you attempt to freeze him does he insouciantly return, bouncing back up at you like one of those inflatable Romper Room clowns when pushed to the ground. In all honesty how can i cull someone i've known since my mystic days as a tween, besides the mistress cannot afford to lose any more pals.

So that night when the phone rang i didn't screen the call but answered. Sure enough it was Briannon on the blower. My frostiness and reserve didn't even register with him, he just steamrolled on and arranged me to meet him at the cafe down the road from Rockdale library.

As I entered the coffee lounge the next day for luncheon, I was rather intrigued to see seated beside Brian a dude with silver hair what was all new waved up and stoodio lined, sporting a Dennis the Menace red and black stripey long sleeved t. I then recalled that Bri's phone messages had featured a lot of "we" "us" and "our" (also a hilarious film starring Lucille Ball and Hank Fonda) which i had attributed to further evidence of high and mighty Bri.

With great flourish and smugness Bri presented Sylvain, introducing him as his "life partner". Sylvain is a Belgian francophone performance artiste. He seems to be about 50 and his biggest claim to fame is making parties with Plastic B and the lads from Telephone in the 80's. He talked of nothing else during our meal. Brian had a diet coke and a nice air sandwich, and Sylvain imbibed from a 2 litre bottle of orange juice that i suspect was mixed with voddie. The mistress wolfed an open melt with grilled tomato and a side serve of chips, beetroot, grated carrot, onion rings and limp lettuce washed down with a malted milkshake. The only things the mistress relished that lunch hour let me tell you. Oh and the 'ello 'ello accents. Yes, Brian has developed a curious accent, distinctly francophony. Precious and affected - how does he do it!

After we cordially said goodbye, I walked aimlessly down the Princes Highway in search of a bus or train station, tetchily mimicking the previous hour's Brinanities, and realised that Brian and i had yet again called a truce of sorts. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em as Robert le Clair-le Beau used to frequently pronounce to the puzzlement of the patrons at Doug's Place.

"Foot not dissimilar from bottom" corner

The expression done and dusted has probably been around 4eva (ohwuh everyone wants her!!) but it’s only recently registered with me.

I seem to hear done and dusted every day (“once we’ve gone into lockdown, embedded this and rolled out that we’ll be done and dusted before APEC was a boy”; whole lotta cheerful and successful completion of tasks happening in Sydney).

I must confess that I have even tried saying dnd a few times but have got confused and muttered dusted down or it’s all gorne dusty. This morning my tongue even twisted out dusted gold lady (must stop reading mojo – as if! It’s the perfect music magazine for the mistress – it’s crammed with the type of info and opinion I find fascinatin’ even though it's not spouted from me - fancy!)

I think my problem with saying done and dusted is that it does not ring true. I mean you would only be done after the dusting wouldn’t you. I rather like Pledged and Proper because that is how the mistress runs Tupper Mansions. I absolutely love those Pledge grab-it dust cloths and dusters. They are sensational, handy, not to mention wasteful. They remove dust, dustballs and hairs from all surfaces in a trice. Frankly I don't feel completely satisfied with dwelling’s cleanliness until the floors and furniture tops have been Pledged.

Then i can settle on the couch with a soothing cuppa and Scotch finger to watch a nice dvd and feel like all is right. And we all like a bit of alright now don't we.

You're all i've got tonight

It's extraordinary that it's August; I still feel like it's July - it won't truly feel like August until the Virgo's reign commences.

Let's face it we all feel so settled and happy, not to mention superior, when Virgo's time comes.

Virgo is Madge to Dame Edna; Fanny to Linda; Ronnie Corbett to Ronnie Barker but never Ronnie to Keef - sweetheart, there are some levels to which even a Virg will not plummet. It's not all bad* - Virgos make great teachers, accountants, librarians and public servants. Anything a Virgo cannot do? Have fun? Oh downer desist with your negative meddling, and that goes for you too Lllexie!! Wooh, alright Mistress (sorry, am just imagining if this were blogged live in front of a stoodio audience .)

So from end of August until lateish September we can all feel rather good about ourselves, unless of course mid-superiority stride you realise that you are a Virgo. And it's at that point the expression "nervy b" is coined.

Yeah so the Leo part of August has been hotttt, which is all you can expect from a Llleeo, natch.

Good times but also kinda mellow. Had my first beginners yoga class on Wednesday. After initial irritation by ultra mellow guru's sonorous timbre, bel got with the strength and asanaed about. It was fun to do exercises i recalled from childhood and it's reassuring to know i'm as unco now as i was then. However, with sheer determination i will again surmount the unco, temporarily, but i don't think i'll ever come third place again in high jump.

It was a very good stretch session i must say - my neck feels pretty marvellous and my mind not as tetchy as it has been, which admittedly is not saying much.

Still when i saw four people pick their noses today, two on the bus ( a senior mother and her middle-aged son - oh i blame the mother), one on the street and one at work, I did not get het up. I embraced their public quest, made four new friends, and scooped the oyster. So my perspective on life has really improved.

Now NSRs this is the part of the posting where the Mistress has to make a confession.

She has become a fan of a contemporary rocknroll band!!

How do you like them toffee apples?!!

*seems such a quaint expression in the age of it's all good

I who have NOTHING to say*

In the 70's and 80's when midday movies and less racy soap operas wanted to indicate that a heterosexual couple had just had sex, the woman wore the man's shirt in the next scene; generally a big blue number because everyone looks good in blue. It's true. Blondie sang so.

Well that post-coital indicator has well and truly vanished from the screen, only fitting in this the PLASMA age. It's spent, i tell you, spent! As is the sheet-wrap-around-the-torso effect. Now everyone wears white fluffy robes and you know that they have done it. They were probably wearing white fluffy robes to convey consummation in Love American Style or the Love Boat but the trend only hit Australia due to the great love story that was Maggie T and Dickie Z . Dickie actually also inspired all the pollies to wear chambray and chinos when hitting natural disaster zones. And as for Maggie, well hasn't she inspired each and everyone of us in some way. Neighbs has only recently cottoned onto the fluffy robe as root indicator in the past two years. Poor Neighbs no wonder it needed a revamp; so slow on the uptake.

It is a phenomenon that has extended to real life. Last Saturday while doing a spot of shopping in Kmart, I was perusing ladies' undergarments when this man raced up to me from another aisle wearing a white fluffy robe and gleefully cried "you'll never guess what i've been doing!!" Astonishing and true. Poor public doesn't yet realise that you don't need to announce it as sportage of w.f. robe says it all.

Everyone in Neighbours, apart from wearing fluffy white robes - at it like rabbits they are, is moving to goddamn Queensland, Cairns in particular. But not one character pronounces Cairns with care, they pronounce it as cans and that, nsrs, absolutely gets my goat. Do you remember that singer Kim Carnes who sang bette davis eyes. Well, Gavin Wood on Countdown used to pronounce her surname as Cairns should be pronounced!! Topsy turvy am gonna have a nervy.

In other news I have had a hangover for 6 days - attended a great party for a great lady. Unfortunately my capacity to hold booze is not that great.

Post-good times for an old lady requires desperate guzzling of chamomile tea to abate the pounding head and impending nervy b. However, since sinking some light beer, I feel fine. How'd you be.

After next Wednesday the mistress is going to be a really calm and centred person. She is starting Hatha Yoga. And once got a few asanas down pat will venture towards the bank and motoring school.....The mistress is a woman of simple ambitions.

*Sounds like a Bee Gees' song title circa 67, eh? But tisn't. Would have been a great song but.