hurricane

i'm a star in New York , i'm a star in L.A. tum da dum , dee, dee, dee, doo, from New York to L.A., from L.A. to New York, tum, da dum, dee, dee, oh hello, nsrs, my that's a healthy look of bemusement you're sporting. Yes, the mistress is back, she's been a busy, busy bel, interstating about and now unpacking her overnight bag, returning her witches britches to their drawer and her toothbrush to its Ipana splattered mug, after yet another whirlwind visit to Mel.

What is a bel to do , so POPular. Me and darren hayes, but I won't be coming out for a while, well Alan Jones said he wouldn't out me till 2010, and that still leaves me plenty of time to pip Tom to the outpost. Tommy and I have a lot in common: obnoxious, sensational teeth, smug, deluded and neither of us have scaled cold mountain. Pour the milk and hit that cymbal as Eric Burdon sang but I preferred the Freaked Out Flower Children's version. Who was sexier, Gumpy or Sophie Lee?

Anyway that's enough libel for one posting, let's take a step back into paradise and talk about me.

So yeah it's been wild, crazy and cuckoo whirly whirly. You may recall i was moaning about my work. Well, i got a new job, starts on Monday, they'll have me working night and day, punching in, punching out but at 41 that's what life is about. ooh. I am excited really, it's only taken 3 years.

The past three days have been fun. Gosh 3 is this week's important number, last couple of weeks 56 has been highly signifcant. Celebrating birthdays in Sydney and Mel. At all celebrations i was the epitome of decorum and charm. It was marvellous to see so many dear friends and i'm sure the pleasure was all theirs too. I ate lots of fries, the best were at acmi cafe, had a quite a few snifters, best champers was at the Pavillion on the Park, saw a few minor identities, scattered about yearning for paparrazi, and all they get are baffled looks from members of the general public as general public member scratches his/head, smiles absently and wonders if he/she knows celebrity minor. The worst must have been Julie McCrossin.

Incidentally, i'm being stalked by Julie McCrossin. I have seen the dame about five times this year. NO wonder she couldn't hack the early rising at 2BL, she's constantly trawling the streets, art galleries , airports, and docks, standing in a demi squat, pen pointed at the pad ready to busily scribble notes or banging on the mobe - waiting for me, yeah, me.

Julie, baby, sweetheart, you should have just fixed yourself a poopy milk drink, retired to sleepy bo bos by 8.30 p.m. and you would have started work fresh as a daisy at 4 a.m., and remained gainfully employed.

Next time i spring her i'll tell her so and perhaps i could become her life coach. And let's not even begin with all the other identity minors prostrating themselves along the path, creating an hazardous obstacle course, to my increasingly important career, that includes you, Peter Garrett and Anthony Green.

Just step off, fellas. This girl is keeping herself real and if that means hanging out with sweet simpletons, so be it.

I love them so.