Thursday, 31 January 2008

Spew glorious spew

This morning i had the delight of catching the ferry to Circular Quay to go to work. It was wonderful and the sea was slightly choppy which was exciting.

As i walked from the Quay to my office in Wynyard, i counted several piles of vomit. I didn't think that Wednesday was a notoriously boozy night even for the Rocks area. Perhaps the piles were left over from the nation's weekend celebrations but they really did look too fresh. Seasick ferry travellers?

Anyway i didn't give it a second thought until 10 minutes ago when returning home from the bottleshop after having had a somewhat fraught and dispiriting driving lesson - thunderstorm, lightning, mental traffic and my steering is spaz and erratic, I passed the old post office and noticed a scrawl on its wall that read "Cass spewed here" with an arrow pointed towards the ground.

Saturday, 26 January 2008

Like a circle within a spiral

A tall man, looking like a cross between Alastair Campbell and Stephen Fry, wearing a camel hair coat over a suit, pushes his way agitatedly through a revolving door and enters an impressive and enormous corridor. Mr Important Business strides and strides, the sound of his shoes resonant against the marble floor - similar to the sound Aqua boy made when he walked on land, brushing the fringe away from his brow, pushing his way extravagantly through some swing doors, his pace becoming more urgent and impatient.

Finally he bursts into an office, where a young woman (played by Kelly MacDonald) is seated busily shuffling paper, looking harried, and he cries:

"We can't let this happen!

We've got to get rid of him!

We can't let Adam Ant overthrow the government!"

Unfortunately I then woke and desperately tried to return to the dream but could not - to be continued January 2009 non-ratings season.

Now where did I put that opinion?

The non-ratings season has had some top little shows hasn’t it. I have enthused about the non-ratings season to you before but as if you’d remember, sweet nsrs. You've minds of sieves and remember sweet fanny adams about things past, present and lost and need me to act as prompt and diarist of your dreary lives, which I’m happy to do while advantageously spreading lies about good times, feuds and birthdays. Haven’t been sprung yet and you’ll forget in one, two...

Yes that’s right, we were talking about non-ratings season. Yes, I said hasn’t it been good, mother. Yes. Very good. Lovely. We’ve been enjoying all those interesting dramatisations of English lives, haven’t we, mother. Adored Wallis and Noblet (about he who would never be crowned and his abdication in 1936) – would have liked to have seen more about those greedy toads lives in exile but have since read the Viceroy's daughters by Anne de Courcey and the thirst for historical information about Anglo/German aristos has beeen well and truly slaked. Rivetted by Elizabeth David portrayed by a Charlotte Rampling look-a-like and with Hot Ploddy Phil Hunter’s wife Cindy playing Elizabeth’s sister. It was a boozy, racy, adventurous and kind of volatile tale. Ooh we’ve also been enjoying that adaptation of The Line of Beauty, haven’t we. Oh the sex scenes have been a bit too much for some, haven't they, mother, but I for one find it absurd that people comment on that rather than the absolutely vile characters.

I did try to read the book two years ago but couldn’t. The characters were just too ghastly. On the telly the characters’ hideousness is slightly diluted in that you only see them for an hour whereas when you read those characters penetrate your mind and haunt you. I am looking forward to tomorrow night’s finale of LoB.

The Line of Beauty being set in Blighty in the 80’s and whatnot caused my mind to wander to one day in 1988, I think the Poll Tax (?) had just been passed. I was walking down the Cromwell Road or was it Gloucester Road, oh as if you’d remember, I was on a pilgrimmage to Froxbury Mansions, and this woman in her 50’s wearing one of those enormous and hideous Liberty scarves/shawls (which were in fashion for her set at the time) around her shoulders bowled up to me for I was kitted as a Sloane Ranger, sporting Fergie bow and diaphanous skirt, peppering my speech with OK Yah in between scoffing profiteroles and throwing bread rolls all the while bopping to Bros on the Sony Walkman.

Anyway for some reason this woman, probably a Mrs Towers-Smythe or Miss Dodo Macintosh, came up to me and boomed in my face “oh isn’t it marvellous SHE got it through”. I sought clarification with a “sorry, what?” and expressed my opinion to which she replied through her nasal passage:

“Oh you’re from Orstralia are you? Happy Bicentenary!”

Friday, 25 January 2008

Friday morning nightmare

While reading this morning’s paper my gimlet eyes, well alright they’re more like those of Arnold the pig from Greenacres – 2008 is the year when I will be keepin' it real, caught sight of a little review of last night’s concert by the punk pop travesty known as the Police.

Can you imagine the smirk that spread across my lips as I bit into my toasted half bagel, smeared with Mum’s garlic spread (used to be produced in Enmore), and read:

“Sting implored the audience to clap*- an instruction that even the celebs down the front - such as Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban, Hugh Jackman and Deborra-Lee Furness - didn't care to ignore.”

Here a sham, there a sham, everywhere a sham-sham. A veritable sham-a-rama.

Now while I’ve got your attention may I please table this:

Has Cate Blanchett hired Clan Kidman's PR agent? Can’t flick through a paper or magazine or channel surf without seeing CB and that fixed pained smile on her face as she trots down the red carpet, advises of her $10M environmentally sound mansion or freshly laid log (oh the crudite as Mark Latham used to say).

The media overload was happening well before the two Oscar nominations. Yes, she is a gifted and talented actress/impressionist and went to the opportunity school for actors, but really she’s become such a publicity hound that the mistress recommends that she lie low for a while and work on a new "photo look", ie facial expression for the poor snap happy paparazzi.

*says it all

Thursday, 24 January 2008

Honey, honey, call me on the telephone

For some reason i have that line from Star Star on my brain. I do wonder where fun city is -Bulli, Bendi or Mel?

Since i lasted posted i have been up to much important business.

F'instance, i was searching for information about pink flowering dwarf gums on the gardening Australia website and look what came up at
number 11.

Friday, 18 January 2008

Where membership’s a smiling face

Well may people ask “what are you listening to at the moment?” (MySpacien in origin?) but would enquirer care to know about lyrics and toons that randomly emerge from your memory banks to become that day’s, week’s soundtrack.

This week I’ve been staring at my work schedule for 2008 trying to work out the very latest I can submit stuff so I can focus on personal emails, facebook and reading blogs when the sound of cicadas vibrate in my right ear (too high a frequency for my partially deaf left ear), a mesmerising Calypso or Cuban beat starts tapping in my mind, my shoulders sway (moving in the disconcerting fashion that the shoulders of Nightmoves host Lee Simon did when he spoke) and I mouth “all that’s missing is the sea” to holler “But don’t worry, you can suntan!”, with great gusto, then a "woah woah wooaaaaaaaah" descending to a bit of "cool, coooooooooool" and ending with a pathetic cough to conceal my folly.

Nevertheless a hauntingly satiric lyric such as this should be sung out loud with exuberant abandon.

Keep your crystal visions to yourself

Following the trail of some friends, whose opinion I hold in high regard, I went and saw no country for old men. What did I think of it? I really do not know. I don't think i even understood it. I didn’t hate it but it left me feeling like I’ve got mad cow’s disease, or perhaps that’s just returning to work after the Xmas break. I’m dazed and almost without an opinion.

I rather liked the actors, the scenery and feeling freaked out by the violence'n'gore and watching those bits through the parted fingers covering my face while yelping. However, I just feel that the film went in my mind and straight out. And although I had been warned that Tommy Lee Jones’ monologue was the last part of the film and not to zone out I did. I believe this is because he was recounting a dream. I mean really who listens to anybody's recount of a dream. Furthermore it didn't sound as though there was one celeb in it!

Hanyways I'd much rather have seen that film than the one about the Bobster. Still I am left worrying that perhaps, like Lady Di once lamented, "i have the brain of a pea" - still that "devious moron" had one over me - i'm so ignorant i didn't know that peas had brains.

I will leave you the following to ponder in 2008 (please read it with the voice of Ronald Coleman or Maxwell Smart as that Prince)

Is it a far, far better thing to be a devious moron or a Best Party Eva Corey, or are they the same thing?

Friday, 4 January 2008

self-obsessed and unawares

Fiii-nally i've got your attention.

On new year's eve i saw the fireworks which were exciting, particularly the ones at midnight. I wasn't so keen on the accompanying music that was booming around the harbour but FJG, Sputnik for short these days, don't ye know, and i did sing along to that latest silverchair hit. I met some very nice people, encountered some rude articles and witnessed Maria Venuti's girlfriends attempting to make a burst for freedom from the bare constraints of Maria's frock. Hardly a scoop, I know, but my eyes are still bruised.

Now that's some beginning for 2008 and no doubt augurs a bountiful year ahead. Well not for the majority of carry-on stars, so whichever one of you is loitering feeding me those titty boom-boom jokes naff orf back to bishop and actress heaven.

I have made about 5 resolutions. Unfortunately my resolve has dissolved, like Calgon but the bath tub ring that was my life in 2007 remains. (i lifted that from stanza 4 of Macarthur Park).

One thing i must no longer be culpable or part of in 2008 is the see-saw Marjory bore conversation. You know, the conversations where an anecdote or something topical, well anything really, is being recounted and the interlocutor doesn't roll with the conversation, let the see-saw evenly teeter and totter if you will, or allow speaker to come to a conclusion, but cuts in and attempts to top it with some tenuously linked tale (about her/himself natch), thus springing her/himself high into the air causing the other to thump down to the ground smacking the coccyx. And yes, we're back on course, hearing about you, glorious, tediously lacking self-deprecation, blissfully bouncing a-top a fluffy wad of self-satisfaction, you! It will however be open slather in 2009. I wonder if Mrs Christmas or Chrisco sell muzzles with those appealing hampers?

I certainly won't be dabbling with Limewire any more. Lawks what a freaky time i had with it recently. I'd been thinking about Lucky Jim and the 1957 film adaptation starring Ian Carmichael and Terry-Thomas (Tel played either Prof or Bertrand Welch). I'd taped it from the television in the early 90's; it wasn't that great but i thought it would be interesting to see again, in light of my enjoyment of I.C. playing, sorry, playin', Lord Peter Wimsey. Unfortunately tape of Lucky Jim has completely faded (?). I thought i could purchase it from Amazon but my tightness led me to Limewire. I began my search for Lucky Jim and some really nauseating pornographic titles came up. A total freak out, ugh, and before you could say Dolly Dunn i'd stopped that search and removed Limewire. The treacherous pervy waters of the internet. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh and quadruple Ugh.

The quote for today from Women's Wit calendar is by Maryanne Fahey:

How many ughs does it take to make an ugg boot?

Wednesday, 2 January 2008

Happy newie

That was inspired wasn't it?

I guess i could have written a pome but I prefer subjects such as people and biscuits, being the people person foodie that i am .

Speaking of inspiration, the quote for 2 January of the Women's Wit 2008 calendar, one of the exciting gifts from my Christmas treasure, is by that legendary wit and humorist Nicole Kidman:

"Life has got all those twists and turns. You've just got to hold on tight and off you go."

Ooh i feel a poetic tribute coming on.