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?