The Picky Bitch

hey...

2011-04-07T19:52:00.000+08:00

I'm a teeny bit in love with my new boobs...

Strangely calm...

2011-03-29T21:48:00.005+08:00

...for someone about to have parts of her body removed. I think my overriding concern is that something will happen to me under anaesthesia and I'll die never knowing I died. I wonder if that's how ghosts are really made, a la Sixth Sense... I really believe that when I die, I want to at least know about it. I want that deathbed confession, the weeping family surrounding me - children, grand-children and, what the hell, great-grandchildren touching my hand and wishing me well on my journey, me saying something incredibly witty at the very end (would you expect anything less, really?) and hopefully just dying with a smile on my face at the thought of a life well-lived. But hopefully, the only things to die on the table tomorrow will be a bunch of my cells - only the ones getting chopped out and being deprived of a blood-supply and oxygen. Not any BRAIN cells, or HEART cells or cells I will need for hopefully a long while into the future. None of THEM. So it's time to (as Andrea Bocelli sings so beautifully) say good-bye to those bits that are leaving me.

Good-bye breast tissue - thank you for being there. No thanks that there was so MUCH of you. "Bountiful breasts" - so poetic to Shakespeare and the fantasy of adolescent boys - and adolescent men, to be frank - not so poetic when trying to be shoved into too tight bras and hoisted to somewhere they wouldn't normally reside unless sheathed in lacy lace and stretchy lycra. But definite thanks for the milk, the gallons of milk that have made my babies strong and smart and beautiful. Thank you for the comfort you gave - thank you for providing a bouncy castle of boobiness that my children have loved. Thank you for adding to the hugginess of me, the squooshiness of me. That was not a bad thing. Thank you from Sam for being so much. He loves you, he really does. I love you too. I just need less of you.

Good-bye uterus - thank you for being such a wonderful home for my children. I love your work. Keeping them safe and warm and fed and nurtured. You and Placenta - no place like womb. Thanks for the reminder every month that there are cycles in nature that we are still part of despite the crazy denial that we are above it, beyond it. It's not really your fault. You are the fall guy for those little fucker ovaries. It's their fault I have to get rid of you. But I need them more than I need you. Sorry, I know that's harsh. But true. I need those little bastards to keep doing what they do for a few more years. Otherwise I will turn into a man-beast. With more hair on my lip and chin that I know what to do with. Not ready for that just yet. I was not able to tame them. They had me in the palm of their hands. Squeezing hard. Too hard. So you gotta go. Sorry.

Good-bye leaky bladder - goodbye wet knickers when I sneeze, jump, skip, hop, bounce, scream at Duran Duran concerts and cough. Although you may revisit me later in life...Depends. [Get it? See what I did there?] I will not miss that. That is yuk.

So what's the worst thing so far? The anxiety? The knowledge that I have left things undone? The fear that I will have made a mistake? Bah - done all that. Don't need having multiple procedures to go there... that's my modus operandi for my life. No, it was really the waxing. Sweet Jesus. I had a pretty close wax today. Not a Brazilian. Not even an East German, really. But a little more of a mow than usual. The waxer, aka Sadistic Sadist Grrrl, took a strip off the top of my map of Tassie, right under the leftover pregnancy spare skin I've been hanging on to just in case anyone needed any ["Skin? Anyone got some spare skin and a little fat?" "Yep! Over here!"] and I was thinking, as I broke out into a sweat and almost hit the ceiling, "If that's what it feels like on my tummy bits, WHAT THE HELL DOES WAXING LABIA FEEL LIKE???"

And you know what? I will NEVER find out.

Ch..ch..ch..ch..changes...

2011-02-09T17:14:00.003+08:00

Yep. The only thing you can rely on in life is change.

Things that are changing:

My tolerance for the crap in my house. While it hasn't made it off the porch, there's been a bunch of stuff to leave the house recently. While it was almost easy to get it out of the house, the paralysing indecision that arises from "whether to sell it/whether to donate" is negating the good feeling from making the decision to put it out the door. Given my inability to organise a garage sale and given all the fires and floods, maybe the stuff should just get taken to a donation bin where hopefully it will find a grateful home. Or at least be someone's answer to what to wear to that 'bad taste' party.
My house itself. We have met with an architect and have a 'concept'. Whoa - I don't think you actually realise what a big step that is. Someone else is now involved in my dreams - literally an architect of my dreams. Now let's take that next step and turn a concept into a plan...
My daughter's life. New school, new rules, new dress... I wonder at what is happening in her head and am simultaneously pleased and horrified at our decision to move her from her chrysalis and out into the world. She seems different and maybe, and just maybe, to assuage my guilt, I think the change is for the good.
My relationship with my husband. Seems more grounded. He is more determined to live his life and I have gotten over my resentment (kinda, sorta) and actually am acknowledging his right to do so.
Me. Bits will be removed and reshaped and I'm again swaying between horror and delight at the thought of actually being physically different. Saying 'goodbye' to a chapter in my history - or should that be herstory...

Happy Birthday Dad

2011-01-10T20:19:00.004+08:00

Yes, I know. I do go on about my Dad a bit. For someone who's been dead for almost 11 years now, he still tends to occupy my thoughts a lot. He is my Dad, after all. So I'm not really apologising but even when there's been a bit of a 'Picky Bitch' drought, it's usually my Dad who'll get me posting again.

So today would have been my Dad's 78th birthday. Wow. Born in 1933. A long time ago although to my rapidly ageing self, 78 isn't that old. My Mum has a friend who just turned 96 and she's pretty amazing - still making cakes and gnocchi by the truckload.

I have to wonder what kind of 78-year-old my Dad would have been. Would he just look the same but wrinklier and have whiter hair? As he already had white hair at 67 I suppose it couldn't have gotten much whiter so maybe that's a dumb thought.

If he hadn't died of cancer, would he have died of something else by now? His heart wasn't good. Would I be in the fresh throes of grief, mourning my father for having just died from a heart attack? Would my children be devastated at losing their Nonno, having known him for only a few short years instead of being oblivious not knowing him at all? What would have been better, really? I was 25 before losing the first of my significant relatives. My kids would have been less than 10.

Of course, he might not have died of something else in the meantime. He might have been still alive, pottering around the house, driving my mother nuts. I wonder how patient he would have been with this noisy mess of kids.

But he died at 67 and he's gone and my kids don't know him that well. I still remember though. And I still love him and I still miss him and I will forever and ever and ever.

And somewhere as I remember my Dad on the 78th anniversary of his birth, somewhere in Arizona is a family mourning the loss of their nine year old daughter. Their daughter, only two days older than mine. I am so sorry for their terrible loss. I wish she would have lived to 67. I wish she would have lived to 78. I wish she would have lived.

Ding Dong The Witch is Dead...

2011-01-01T12:40:00.002+08:00

Predictably, here I am. The 1st of January. All filled up with hope and renewal and such. Making another effort to revive The Picky Bitch, God love her.

What did I learn in 2010:

Never take anyone for granted. People can surprise you. Big time.
There are still lessons I need to learn.
I don't have to do everything on my own. It's okay to lean.
I will die someday.

That pretty much sums up the year.

Booyah!

Where have all the emails gone...?

2010-05-29T10:48:00.005+08:00

In a misguided effort to be the first cab off the rank, I signed up to switch my work laptop (which also acts, let's admit, as my home computer) to Windows 7. In a miscommunication with our IT Guy (some of my readers will know who he is), I lost about 7 years of personal emails and email addresses.

Lessons learned? Always back up EVERYTHING and always be the SECOND cab off the rack in an IT roll-out.

So does this count as one more thing on my '50 Things' even though it was inadvertent?

While not within that realm of losing your life, limb or country, there is some indescribable (although I am in the throes of trying to describe it anyway) mourning that is taking place within me. It's a loss that is unique to this century - virtual loss.

But to keep it in perspective, it's more a case of an ongoing "Oh, well" instead of weeping and gnashing of teeth and renting of garments - so Old Testament. Okay, maybe I gnashed and rented and wept a teeny little bit and threw in a few other choice words for a little added drama first and the "Oh, well" came later. And I thank those among you who have shown me the appropriate level of sympathy. That combination of "Thank God that didn't happen to me" mixed with "I feel your pain". Anything more would be ridiculous. Words from the Age to mirror a loss from the Age.

I feel as though a portion of my life has been stripped away - all those chain letters, all those offers to purchase shoes, books, holidays...GONE - gone back into the ether from whence they came. But also gone are the emails from people no longer with me, either separated by death or distance.

And to be honest, it's not that I read them all that often. But knowing they were there was a small measure of comfort. It seems that I have the same desire for virtual clutter as I do for the stuff clogging up my cupboards and drawers.

There was also the issue of the congratulations emails I was saving from the birth of my son. Although the child has no Baby Book, I held on to me holding on to these emails as evidence that I at least had done that for him.

So, like paving Paradise and putting in a parking lot, I won't know what I've got 'til it's gone - or what I had now it's gone as there could be other things in there - not just emails - that have just up and left me.

My emails got run over on the Information Superhighway by the 18 wheeler Behemoth that is Windows 7. Virtual Infanticide.

Rest in bytes.

Oh, well.

Throwing out 50 things...

2010-04-11T16:45:00.006+08:00

Just been reading Gail Blanke's Throw Out 50 Things.

Fifty??? I could probably throw out 1 bazillion and 50 and it still might not make a dent in the stuff in my life. However - let's not get all negative before we start as that's a prime example of one of the behaviours I need to throw out: my need to put myself down. Guess what? The emotional stuff - the negative voices, the old scripts one keeps living even though they've been outgrown - they count as things too.

But before I get ahead of myself - and let's face it, most of my humour is based on making some fun of myself so I won't give that up completely because that just wouldn't be fun for anyone - I have actually taken on board what this woman is telling me.

Why her? Why now? Did the planets align? Have I finally kept my New Year's Resolution to "Act Like a Grown-Up"?

Dang it - I think I have.

So - what have I chucked?

[And the killer is that 50 magazines count as ONE THING!!! Oi vey - so it's not as easy as it looks.]

Old non-stick frying pans that are now stick frying pans - did I somehow think that stray Teflon particles in the atmosphere would find my kitchen and miraculously re-coat my pans??? Out they go.

Old bakeware - I just had an amazing insight that I don't need chipped Corning Ware baking dishes in 5 different sizes as - guess what? - my mother - Queen of the Baking Dish of Any Size You Desire - LIVES NEXT DOOR. Out they go.

My non-stick 9" cake tins - I have brand new(-ish) Chicago Metallic cake pans that are MUCH BETTER in my oven and so I don't need those crappy old ones ANY MORE - OUT THEY GO!!!

Django's Faux Crocs from last summer - and I mean LAST summer as in 2008/09. His feet ain't getting smaller, sunshine. And there's nothing to get sentimental about over skanky pitted rubber shoes. Won't be bronzing those.... out they go.

My skinny jeans. 'Nuff said. OTG!!!*

This old navy blue wool coat I dragged home from Alaska that used to belong to my friend Jenee' - she was smart enough not to take it back home to North Carolina - WHY, OH WHY did I think that a coat that was too hot for Raleigh, wouldn't be too hot for Perth, freaking Australia??? It also weighs about 10 kilos so not only have I never worn it, I probably also paid some serious postage to never wear it. Out IT goes...(to be donated to someone with bad circulation 'cause you could LIVE in that coat in the winter - okay, now that's given me a sad 'bag lady' image. But at least she'd be warm.) This is getting bad on so many levels.***

About 48 kilos of tissue paper. What makes me think that I would ever re-use skanky crushed tissue paper. There's being green and then there's being deluded.

Old nappies. Unused, you'll be pleased to hear. I cannot be sentimental over a Newborn Baby Love any longer. There weren't millions of them - I'm not a total lunatic - just about 6 total in various sizes. I just really don't know why I was keeping them. In case we all went back in time, I guess. It could happen. It could.

Books. This is a hard one for me. I love to hang on to books but I must admit that I had a few stinkers that needed to go. Actually I had already taken about 10 to a book exchange and got about $70 in credit for them so that's okay. I'm just not into putting them on eBay and I'm not a swap meet person - it kills me to sell things for 10 cents or a dollar - in a weird way, I'd rather just give it away for free. But the book exchange thing is good - I can do that. Those places don't smell gross like they used to when I was a kid - there's a fine line between Eau de Olde Bookes and Eau de Skanke.
Funny thing though: when I was sorting my books I came across Cut the Clutter, Peter Walsh's It's All Too Much and Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Big? as well as The Queen of Clean Conquers Clutter. And Simple Steps: 10 Weeks to Getting Control of Your Life: Health, Weight, Home, Spirit . And I say: HUH! Why not them and why Gail Blanke? Is it her engaging wit? She's pretty funny. It is her crazy coiffure? Actually I think I've just figured it out - it's because she reminds me of Nanee Barbara and has that same kick your ass-ness about her coated in love. That's it! She's channeling Nanee. How cool. Nanee though, it has to be said, was probably the biggest pack-rat in the world. Even so, it's something in the way she writes that makes me think of Nanee.

Magazines. See above. Magazines are magical. I can re-read them over and over and because I have such bad memory retention, they are always new to me. I actually have a theory that the stories change between readings but that's just my kind of crazy. Got rid of a few old IKEA catalogues because I realised I actually own everything in there now.
[IN AN ASIDE - because I've been known to interrupt myself on occasion - I just bought another bunch of IKEA furniture. I told my friend C that I'd be screwing all weekend and I have. First Micke, who was pretty easy although I got something stuck in him and it took AGES to get it out. Then last night, it was Billy. Wham bang, thank you ma'am. Up he went, nice and erect, in no time at all. And then Billy again today. But this time he was bigger. About twice the size. I still managed to handle him on my own as Sam was out. I put the screws on him and he got himself together and when I put my nails in his back he was done. A bit of IKEA raunch there for my readers' pleasure. Really, it was nothing.]

Okay - so because of the additional IKEA furniture, I've been able to clear through bookcases - and have created some space, both physical as well as mentally. Hence a Picky Bitch posting and everything. See - it does work.

Gotta go now because even though I've cleaned my kitchen - somewhat - that food won't cook itself - damned, stupid food - and I've got to go and apply heat to it and everything.

So - what's my tally? I've also thrown out:

Video cassettes
Old shampoos and conditioners - and as a result of cleaning out under the sink, I found the motherlode of NEW shampoo and conditioner bottles - I will not need to buy hair cleaning products until 2012 - and once the end of the world comes, who'll need more, right?
Skank-fest old toothbrushes - I mean, I use them to clean my tile but only need one at a time - I am not Edward Toothbrushhands, for pete's sake
Papers - YE OLDE BANKE STATEMENTES from 1873 - on parchment and everything...
Not one but TWO rusted spring-form pans
Single socks - 437 single socks
Random cardboard boxes. The accumulation is because of my kids' penchant for 'making things' out of them. Enough of pandering to their ways!

17 things that I can think of right now.

Not bad.

*Out they go.

***Am getting tired of the whole rousing 'OUT THEY GO' thing so I won't do that anymore - you get the picture.

And in an embarassing PS I also threw out a bunch of 'flours' - about 6 kilos of completely moth and larvae infested flours. Seems as though pantry moths are an equal opportunity insect as they infested the regular flour with as much alacrity as the spelt and rye. In a complete more-lunatic-than-usual-even-for-me lunacy, I purchased all this flour in the weeks prior to going overseas, thinking idiot thoughts that I would have the time to bake some bread. You wouldn't want to eat the bread I would have baked with that flour. Vegetarians wouldn't eat it, that's for sure. Erk. So that makes 18, 19 if you count the moths. 20 if you count the larvae as a separate item.

Have I really been having fun? Is that why the time has flown?

2010-03-28T21:07:00.002+08:00

So yes.

We all know.

It's been a while.

Okay - so that bit's over. Don't even really know what to say. Life is pretty good. Work is okay. My kids never listen to anything I say but apart from that total lack of respect, I think they love me.

My husband loves me and I love him. I may not have been able to say that with such certainty a year ago.

We have lost another man in the family and it's almost a year since my Zio Mick died.

I wish I commemorated my Dad's 10th anniversary in a joyful way but I just have to realise that my family is not that way. We don't 'do' celebrations around death.

I had an interesting discussion with my eight-year-old daughter who was in an existential mood, "Mum, why are we here? Why this planet? Is there anyone else out there?"

This 42-year-old would love to have had the answers but I had none. Just more questions.

Nine.

2009-02-02T17:27:00.006+09:00

I'm feeling crappy today - it's hot and humid, nobody could sleep in our house last night so we were all wandering around like zombies bumping into each other as we needed more water and to be comforted from bad dreams. I think that in my mind I'm disasterating - if I'm pissing and moaning about the first really hot day of the summer, what's it going to be like when it's 40degrees for weeks on end.

Nice, huh?

It's also the ninth anniversary of my Dad's death and this year, I'm more annoyed than anything. Annoyed that after nine years, there is no excuse for bringing it up and wanting some sympathy - that's all done with. It's a limbo year - not quite ten, too far past five. But it still really sucks and I still really miss him and I still want to talk about him but feel stupid for wanting to. I can get all excited about next year - the BIG TEN - you have an excuse for telling people, "My Dad died TEN YEARS AGO! Can you believe it's been TEN YEARS?" And you get the sympathy and the hugs and there is some allowance for bringing it up because it's TEN YEARS - a nice, neat number. People wouldn't look at you funny for mentioning that.

But nine? Nine is just nine.

I miss you Dad. And you're not coming back. And it still hurts. And I still love you. And I miss you more today than I did nine years ago when it was so raw and painful.

I want to think about you and miss you on all your anniversaries - the 11th, the 17th, the 23rd, the 37th. All those awkward numbers.

Until someone starts mourning me.

a brand new day

2009-01-21T15:54:00.004+09:00

We stayed up to watch the Inauguration last night into the wee hours - and thank you J., for all the texts and all the tears - it got a little lonely there at 2am, with S. and I having our little party for two.

It's a lovely feeling to have intellect win over indolence, brains over braindeadedness (if that's not a word, it should be), and other alliterative phrases that I'm too tired to think of right now (a little of that braindeadedness is making itself felt in my noggin today).

So the burning question is not what you can do for your country, but - what the hell is Jon Stewart going to talk about now? Unless we get another Sarah Palin - sweet Jesus, NO! - what has he got to work with?? Surely, I mean, surely he is not going to pick on Obama. I may have to not love him as much if he does that.

[Note to Jon: I will always love you.]

Oh what bittersweet times these are when the Republicans have their tails between their legs and there is nothing to bitch about. I'm hoping for a very uneventful administration so that some hard work can be done and people can pull their heads out of their asses and realise the American Dream needs a little tweaking.

So what was my favourite bit of the whole shebang? Apart from Obama's beautifully stunning oratory? It had to be this guy:

Some are finding the ending of this offensive but criminy, can't we all just be mellow (not just the 'yellows')?

*cringe*

I thought it was a beautiful benediction and a call for tolerance.

With a few racial stereotypes thrown in for 'colour' (see what I did there?).

It's OVER!!!! - UPDATE - I know what a SHAMWOW is now!!!

2009-01-19T21:02:00.006+09:00

This is wonderful -

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Barack Obama: Path to the Presidency

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

"This man is charisma, piled on top of gorgeous, wrapped in a sex tortilla and served with two scoops of 'raorrrrrr'!" GO SAMANTHA BEE!!!

...and this is hilarious....roll on tomorrow!

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

The Bush Years: Jon's Dubya Impression

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

"Here's what I like about monkeys?..."

UPDATE: I just found out what a ShamWow is by pure chance (thanks, StumbleUpon!).

Check it out:

He sells something else called a SLAP CHOP - Hilarious!

Happy 2009...

2009-01-06T12:03:00.001+09:00

To the three people who read this blog... Happy New Year and thanks for your continued love and friendship.

Been having a lot of fun on Facebook lately and am feeling slightly guilty for giving it so much time when my sweet little PB page is so neglected.

Facebook is phenomenal. I really think it's an amazing tool for reconnection. And a lot of crap-sharing. Do people really need to know that I think it's ridiculous that hot cross buns are already on the shelves of the grocery store???

The funny thing is that there are total strangers wanting to join the group I created "Hot Cross Buns should be sold on Good Friday only". What makes people want to join a group like that? What makes people want to let everyone else know that they lost their shoes/are doing the ironing/are going skiiing/baked a pie...? (I'd want to know who baked a pie as long as I lived close enough to get to eat it).

So what happened in 2008? Apart from 'growing up'?

I visited my beautiful friend J., in Hobart, easily my most favourite place in Australia.
Saw Rufus TWICE
Went into marriage therapy
Went on my first romantic holiday with my husband (see 'marriage therapy')
Taught myself how to film and edit a short movie
Cried a lot
Laughed some
Reconnected with old friends
Healed some old wounds
Picked the scabs off a lot of others to discover they were nice and shiny with scars and not still bleedy (gross, but accurate analogy)
Said good-bye to my brother's former life formally and welcomed his new one by baking lots of delicious cupcakes with my wonderful friend, C.
Won a team award at work
Won an individual award at work
Made people laugh
Tried to keep breathing

Goals for 2009:

To be a better friend to my husband
To be a better friend to my kids - have more 'Dad' time with them instead of just 'Angry Mum' moments
To really figure out if I want to move my family to Portland
To try and get a handle on my financial karma
To keep staying 'grown up'

That's it for now.

Love yas all!

What a long time between drinks...

2008-12-18T12:41:00.003+09:00

I felt compelled this morning to write again after not having written for so long.

It's been an amazing year in that I think I've finally grown up.

Yes - grown up.

This year has taught me that I don't have to cling to the 'me' of the past, that the 'angry me' is not the entirety of me, that I can rejoice in my blessings and the roof won't cave in (although my neck is braced as I write that - old habits...) - that I can be HAPPY. That it's okay to be HAPPY. That while I don't have the right to be happy, that there is no entitlement to be happy, it's still okay to be HAPPY.

I love my life, the crazy goals I set myself, the sense that I can actually do things, that I'm accomplished, that the world is simultaneously fucked up and beautiful, just like me.

An amazing year of looking inside, turning myself inside out and actually liking the result.

Truly blessed.

Truly, truly blessed.

Here I go again...

2008-07-20T21:16:00.005+08:00

Okay, so to continue the Adventures of Nadia in Her Year of Going Out, I had quite possibly (and this is a sad revelation in its own way) one of the BEST nights of my LIFE last week.

I took it upon myself to book out a Gold Class Cinema - 34 seats in all - and invited all my girlfriends and female family members - no stinky boys allowed - to go to Mamma Mia! the Movie. What a HOOT! I don't know what was most exhilarating - knowing that I could sing my freakin' HEAD OFF and not get looked at that strangely (as my family and friends are more than aware of my penchant for singing OUT LOUD and in public) or seeing Meryl Streep sing HER head off and not get looked at that strangely - WHO KNEW!! The girl can BELT out a tune along with all her other talents - AND do the splits mid-air AND actually convince me that she could have shagged Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skargard (with the funny little 'o' thing over the second 'a') AND Colin Firth not only in her 20s but could pretty much manage it at the age of 58. She is just GORgeous!

So how much better could it get??? Being surrounded by friends, drinking wine, eating food (incidentally - don't order the parmesan and rocket salad unless you want parmesan and rocket down your cleavage - it's hardly safe eating POPcorn in the dark without it going everywhere, let alone an actual MEAL), watching Colin - all gorgeous and WET (it should be in his contract that he MUST appear wet in every movie (this one)/TV series (check out 0:55) and commercial

as he looks so very good wet, he really, really does) - and me being able to sing AND dance without censure - it was like the most glorified Karaoke experience of MY LIFE!!!

Go and see the movie (have done, twice so far this week), buy the soundtrack (check!) and enjoy one of the most fun movies of the decade. I've got to say, it even beats singing along to Grease (and co-incidentally, was filmed in Greece - spooky).

PS Even Pierce's crap singing can't cast a pall over the sheer joy of it. Poor love, he did his best. And let's not analyse that if, in fact, Meryl had shagged them 20 years ago, she would have practically been my age - she does look amazingly youthful but I think she could pass for closer to 50, not quite 40 - BUT WHO CARES !!!

Weird dreams...

2008-06-25T19:38:00.005+08:00

Okay - so I know that one of the biggest conversation killers starts with this line, "I had the weirdest dream last night..." and you sit there and try not to stifle a yawn while someone proceeds to tell you ALL about their aMAzing dream. And it isn't 'amazing' as you know - it didn't REALLY HAPPEN!!! And it happened in their head, while they were asleep...

But even so.... get ready people, cause I'm about to unload!

Now some of you - okay - all of the three people who read this blog - know of my slightly off-kilter obsession with Duran Duran. 'Obsession' might not be exactly the right word as it's not as though I even listen to their music now all that much - it's more of an obsession with re-capturing the obsession I had with them when I was 15.

So I saw them in concert in November 1983 (good grief) and then again, only 20 years later in December 2003 and then most recently in April. And it was great - every time it was great. Because every time, not only did I experience the concert, but also had some sort of loosely defined 'personal encounter' with them, in that, I saw them outside their hotel, outside the arena of them being a band on stage and more like them just being really famous people trying to get away from me. Although, and R. will back me up on this - the last two times - 2003 and 2008 - we totally did have personal encounters with Nick Rhodes (who was always my favourite even if he's the most effeminate and pretentious). And he was SO NICE!!! Like, 'take time to be with us' nice. Like 'I will make eye-contact with this person and actually respond to their frantic questions' nice. I LOVE the guy because he is one of the few (and I actually have met a few - see previous post) famous people who 'connected' with me. So the short of it is that I still have a deep affection for him that I don't think will ever dissipate in that he is decent to his fans and does not treat them like lepers (Si-MON!) and does not run away from them (Si-MON!).

Wow - that was one heck of a digression, even for me.

So back to the weird dream. Well - you three also know that I have the most amazingly vivid dreams with the most incredible attention to detail. I dream theatrically - and this is not a lie - I even once had a dream with credits... so last night I had this lovely dream where I got to hang out with Nick and Simon (who wasn't a butthead like usual) and it was totally lovely. Weird? Okay, maybe not so much. But just lovely. Lovely in the way that I am totally starting to convince myself that I actually have an alternate life in my dreams where I get to hang out with famous people ALL THE TIME. I dream about famous people ALL THE TIME. I hardly ever dream about my family - I've probably dreamed about Nick Rhodes more than I've dreamt of my own kids and I've definitely dreamed about Al Gore more than my own husband.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN????

It means that I wake up with the HUGEST smile on my face as I get to be a groupie without any of the guilt. [Okay - I don't have sex with Nick cause he is pure and asexual but I totally would go there with Simon even if in real life he would not look at me.] It's fun and I love it. I get to have these great conversations with famous people I like and it's hilarious. In my dreams, I have kissed Bill Clinton (don't vomit, C. cause if he was as hot in your dreams as he was in mine, you totally would have too!), I've cuddled on a couch with Al Gore while discussing our kids, I sang "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" with Simon Le Bon just last week. One of the stranger celebrity dream encounters I've had was finding Jimmy Barnes in my closet (?). There are countless famous people in my dream states....

So it's fun to go to sleep when you're me. I never know who I'll meet in my head. I love my crazy-ass stupid dreams - MUCH better than those hideous ones where you find yourself at the airport having no idea where your luggage/family/passport is. Of course, if it's me, then most likely I'm travelling First Class with the band....

My new love (Liz Lemon) meets one one of my old loves (Al, Baby).

2008-05-17T22:11:00.004+08:00

Dear GOD, I about DIED laughing watching this on my new latest favourite TV show, 30 Rock, and was so happy to find this clip on the NBC website so I could share it. Apparently NBC did have a 'green week' and I'm trying not to be too cynical about it as they are owned by GE, after all. But they are still allowed to make money as long as they make it ethically - now am I being too naive???

[So as I've met Al Gore, does this mean that I'm only two degrees of separation from my new idol, Liz Lemon aka Tina Fey??? Life just gets better every day]

Thanks for the mammaries....

2008-04-23T15:08:00.003+08:00

So on 17 April 2008, after approximately 2032 days and nights (give or take the few nights I didn't nurse because S put the babies to bed), I finished nursing my children. A. had, of course, already finished a long time ago, but the other night my dear boy and I decided that 'yum-yum' time was over and that he would now be happy to go to bed after a cup of warm milk, a story and a cuddle.

And he is.

And I am not.

I'd be lying if I said that the night after the 17th, it didn't tear me up a little to see my boy drink his milk, kiss me goodnight and turn over and fall asleep.

I'd be lying if the times he has asked for it again - and he has asked a few times - when I reminded him of our 'deal', that I didn't want to renege and cuddle him close and watch him nurse one last time...

But I'm trying to be strong not for him - because he is not the weak one - but for myself, to keep the deal with myself that I would stop this when it became all about me and not about him. He is ready. I am not. I am learning for the first time, despite being a mother for almost seven years, what it is to mother in a different way. How to tell a story, rub a back, pat a tummy, put a child - my baby - to bed without the comfort of my breast and the warmth of the milk within.

I thank my kids for being willing and enthusiastic recipients of the love I wanted to give them. I thank my breasts for giving those kids all the 'good stuff' and making them strong and smart. I thank myself and honour myself for continuing despite the times of doubt and pain and inconvenience and frustration. I mourn the loss. I loved it almost always and I know I will miss it and miss this time of my time with my babies, my intimate mum-only time. Almost smug in being able to give them what nobody else could. Now I have to find new ways of giving them nourishment and goodness.

So as my breasts head for the floor, my mind is filled with tender and soft memories of quietness, warmth and love.

Thank you to them.

Thank you to me.

Gotta love those little things...

2008-04-22T13:32:00.003+08:00

I am so proud of being part of a movement that is finally making moves to inclusion.

It's been a long, long wait...

The Bitch is BACK - again...

2008-03-21T10:42:00.005+09:00

It's been so long, mi amigas...

So I thought I'd get back into the swing of the blog by revisiting The List of 2008 and seeing whether I have anything to add to it: original answers are in blue. New answers will be in, ooh, let's see...maybe this colour...

Questions for the New Year

1. In 2008 name one person that you will make the attempt to have a stronger relationship with? My husband. Is this really happening?? I'm trying to be nicer to him, I think we're closer - we're still separated by crazy schedules and kids pitting us one against the other [devious little boogers] but at least I've started to cook for him again...maybe three or four times, so far...
2. In 2008 what is one risk that you promise to take? Couldn't answer this one earlier and it still stumps me - I really am a risk-averse person. We are considering moving to the States - is that considered a risk? I really don't think it is as I don't feel we have that much to lose - except money - but when did that ever stop us?
3. In 2008 what is one aspect of your personality that you will be willing to change to make yourself more likeable? So many to choose from...hmmm...maybe my acid tongue - try to rein it in a little. And my crappy short temper. I have tried to be less crappy-tongued but the temper still needs work - I am trying to not scream at my kids as the first line of attack
4. In 2008, what is one daily ritual that you can commit to? Waking up every morning would be good. Waking up every morning excited would be better. It's amazing that I still can't think of one thing that I would be willing to do every day.
5. In 2008, what song could you choose to represent the year you are going to have and will you download that song after reading these words? [What is this - a plug for iTunes?] Not sure about a theme song - just went through all that in thinking about the past - can't think of one for the future. I am loving Rufus Wainwright and in saying that I suppose it's not embracing a particular song but knowing that I can still fall in love with music - that is representing my year. Can I still fall in love with life?
6. In 2008, who is one civil servant that you will say hello to for the entire year? None of my servants are civil in the least - you just can't get good help these days...not sure about this. The security guy at work comes around every day and I say hello to him, does that count? I'm actually very friendly to people behind counters, wait-staff, etc. so I don't think I have a problem with this - it's the higher-ups (as perceived by society - and me, I must admit) I have a problem with acknowledging. Maybe I should vow to say 'hello' to a rich person every day.
7. In 2008, what is one body of water that you promise yourself you will swim in? The Pacific. So maybe not the Pacific - not at least until we move to the States, but I DID swim in the Southern Ocean already this year, was not expecting that at the start of the year.
8. In 2008, name one person that you will truly thank who rarely gets thanked. I try to thank my Mum for all that she does for me. I don't know if I am thanking her 'truly' as I'm not sure what she wants from me most of the time. Maybe for me to clean my house, which is beyond me for some reason - fragments of passive-aggressive rebellion?
9. In 2008, what is an artistic experience that you promise to have? More experimental photography. I've taken some great photos this year and also vowed to learn to sew come April.
10. In 2008, what is one argument that you will no longer have? I wish I could say it would be the argument my mother and I have constantly over my house, but I don't believe that will ever end.
11. In 2008, what is one thing that you will do to give back to the world or community that you live in?
12. In 2008, what is one thing that you will learn? How to sew.
13. In 2008, what is one thing you will let go of knowing you don't have the power to change it?
14. In 2008, where will your quiet place be?
15. In 2008, name three people you will surprise with a random gift? Well crap - the only three worth giving a gift to are the three people who read this blog so that would hardly be a surprise now, would it???
16. In 2008, what is one thing that you will teach someone else?
17. In 2008, what is one fear that you will overcome?
18. In 2008, what is one food that you will eat more often? No doubt about it - I vow to try to eat more cake.
19. In 2008, what is something wonderful about your personality that you promise to consciously appreciate? I can be pretty funny now and again.
20. In 2008, what will you do that you have always known you had to do? I will start my soup project. THERE - it's on the Internets - it must be true!

Keating! The Musical

2008-01-13T21:16:00.000+09:00

Just got back from watching Keating! The Musical and it was brilliant. Very well put together - the portrayals were just razor-sharp (like Keating's tongue, really) and the talent in the show was fantastic. I kinda almost half fell in love with ole Paul there having to remind myself that he wasn't as cute as the lead and certainly probably not as charming. *sigh*

I think I am going to enjoy My Year of Going Out. What a great start... and still to come:

Meow-Meow (freaky chick that looks like a LOT of fun - thanks, N.!)
Rufus Wainwright - ooh he's a pretty boy, that one - can't wait, J.!
DURAN DURAN!!!! (cause I'm hungry like a wolf - RAOR! - thanks, A. and R.!)

That's it so far - would still love to go to k.d lang - we'll see...

But it you get a chance to see Keating! - GO SEE IT! It should be part of every high school history curriculum.

UPDATE!!! Was just googling Rufus Wainwright, who is famous for lots, but mainly his version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and found this....

I think I've just had my mind made up for me - add her to The List...

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

2008-01-09T15:27:00.000+09:00

Oh, doesn't it feel good to get rid of clothes and move stuff around and throw things out...I imagine it would if I could actually do that instead of just write about it.

I have filled a huge bag with goods for passing on/donating - finally parting with kids' clothes that I am absurdly sentimental about. It's a start. It's 3:30pm and I am still in my pyjamas so that gives you a clue as to my overall state of being.

I am trying to look at my house with different eyes, eyes that actually see the junk everywhere instead of skim over it. As my husband says (repeatedly), it's easy to tidy up this house (cause it's tiny) but it's hard to keep it tidy (because it's you-guessed-it).

If I were asked which cartoon character I am, it would have to be Pigpen. I so get him.

My God, we could be twins...

And so this is...

2008-01-06T23:32:00.000+09:00

Well, didn't 2007 just pass in a blur? January, February, March... here we go again...

What's in store for 2008? Apparently great things for me. I am supposed to be realising a dream, finally putting into play something that I've wished to do for a long time - I have had so many ideas over the years, I'm a little perplexed at realising which one I'm to realise.

Oh, and Happy New Year to you all (all three of you and you know who you are)!

The Picky Bitch is seeking to be kinder and not so picky this year - think that's possible? According to my horoscope, I'm heading to become the next Mother Teresa (but hopefully with a slightly better wardrobe and moisturiser, God bless her) so I feel compelled to be a nicer person. But I don't feel nicer. I think after turning 40 (oooh - for a whole month now) I'm a little saddened at my own inherent meanness. And I'm a little disheartened that this is how I might be for the rest of my life. How do you train the old brain into not automatically thinking nasty thoughts about people. I know I'm the picky bitch, but I don't want to become the mean, old, nasty bitch.

Resolutions? Still thinking them over.

My friend J. sent this email with the following list of questions that we both agreed would take most of the year to complete, let alone play out - it's a duesie of a list.

Questions for the New Year

1. In 2008 name one person that you will make the attempt to have a stronger relationship with? My husband.
2. In 2008 what is one risk that you promise to take?
3. In 2008 what is one aspect of your personality that you will be willing to change to make yourself more likeable? So many to choose from...hmmm...maybe my acid tongue - try to rein it in a little. And my crappy short temper.
4. In 2008, what is one daily ritual that you can commit to? Waking up every morning would be good. Waking up every morning excited would be better.
5. In 2008, what song could you choose to represent the year you are going to have and will you download that song after reading these words? [What is this - a plug for iTunes?] Not sure about a theme song - just went through all that in thinking about the past - can't think of one for the future.
6. In 2008, who is one civil servant that you will say hello to for the entire year? None of my servants are civil in the least - you just can't get good help these days...not sure about this.
7. In 2008, what is one body of water that you promise yourself you will swim in? The Pacific.
8. In 2008, name one person that you will truly thank who rarely gets thanked.
9. In 2008, what is an artistic experience that you promise to have? More experimental photography.
10. In 2008, what is one argument that you will no longer have?
11. In 2008, what is one thing that you will do to give back to the world or community that you live in?
12. In 2008, what is one thing that you will learn?
13. In 2008, what is one thing you will let go of knowing you don't have the power to change it?
14. In 2008, where will your quiet place be?
15. In 2008, name three people you will surprise with a random gift? Well crap - the only three worth giving a gift to are the three people who read this blog so that would hardly be a surprise now, would it???
16. In 2008, what is one thing that you will teach someone else?
17. In 2008, what is one fear that you will overcome?
18. In 2008, what is one food that you will eat more often? No doubt about it - I vow to try to eat more cake.
19. In 2008, what is something wonderful about your personality that you promise to consciously appreciate? I can be pretty funny now and again.
20. In 2008, what will you do that you have always known you had to do? I will start my soup project. THERE - it's on the Internets - it must be true!

Don't say I didn't warn you! It's a good list of questions, but at time of posting, exhausting to contemplate. Check back for answers in the upcoming millenium, could have it completed by 2015.

[The self indulgence continues] Nadia: The Soundtrack Part Two

2007-12-04T18:31:00.000+09:00

[For those who came late, read Part One first - see below]

Track 11: "Deeply Dippy" Right Said Fred
Cripes, this is a goddamn chirpy little song! Picture this (Sicily, 1953 - no, not really) - Juneau, Alaska - 1994 - we were sharing a spare family car with my husband's sister and this tape (yes, tape) was in the player - we were hooked. The whole CD is great but this song in particular just stuck in my mind and heart. Funny and cheerful and when the brass section comes in, it's just wonderful stuff. And that guy had a terrific voice - whatever happened to them? [Gotta love those internets]

Track 12: "Skin Deep" The Stranglers
What is it about this song that I love so much? JJ Burnel's compelling voice? The great lyrics "better watch out for the skin deep" - haven't we all met some of those...? The way the song starts simply and ends on this great build-up? "Golden Brown" almost pipped this one out - it's a more beautiful song and I also love its almost Dave Brubeckian rhythm. Love them both actually.

Track 13: "Constant Craving" k.d. lang
One of my favourite singers. This is sheer gorgeousity. I love love love this whole CD - all the songs fit together so beautifully and this song is the most wonderful climactic end to a great ride about love, lust, disappointment and longing. Apart from Drew Barrymore, this is who I would turn gay for. [Sorry, M]

Track 14: "Mambo Italiano" Rosemary Clooney
What's not to love about an Irish-American sweetheart (who also happens to be the lovely George's aunt) singing about 'fisha baccala' and "if you gonna be a square you ain'ta gonna go-a now-a-where'? Love that Lurch-like harpsichord solo in the middle - what a crazy song. Also reminiscing about our swing-dancing days when we used to listen to the wonderful Libby Hammer and her delightfully young and handsome 16 piece Big Band - Hip Mo' Toast. SO many fantasies about being a singer in front of a band like that. Sigh.

Track 15: "The Chauffeur" Duran Duran, as interpreted by Powderfinger
[See - told you I was sneaky] What do I love more? The perverse flamenco reworking of this song or the fact that it's by Powderfinger? I love that Bernard Fanning has never apologised for being a huge Duran Duran fan. I feel in esteemed company. This song is part of a CD called 'Come Undone' - a collection of Duran Duran songs covered by Australian bands and singers. Lots of interesting song/artist pairings.
I first heard this in Brisbane in my friend A.'s car as she picked me up from the airport two days before going to the Duran Duran concert I had flown across the country for. Two days before sneaking through the security gate with my friend, R., and having our photo taken with Nick Rhodes. Sweet, sweet memories...

Track 16: "Get What You Give" New Radicals
This world IS gonna pull through. I hope.
This was the song I would dance to with my unborn baby. It is such an anthem and I still find it inspiring. I had actually burned a CD with this song on continuous loop thinking that I would listen to it while labouring. When it came time, I could barely ask for a glass of water, let alone articulate that I wanted a CD on the player. Listening to it 15 times in a row may have sent me quietly insane anyway. Still love it. A lot.

Track 17: "Going Gone" The Black Eyed Peas (featuring Jack Johnson)
A new addition to my personal favourites. The Peas are just an amazingly musically accomplished band with the most insightful and relevant lyrics (okay - maybe not "My Humps" but, hey). This is a great song that I think is about realising that all the stuff, all the bling is meaningless. Fun, but meaningless. Pretty obvious, I know, but it bears repeating.
Also - does Jack Johnson have one of the loveliest voices ever? He is honey and maple syrup, silk and clean sheets. Yummy.

Track 18: "I Don't Feel Like Dancin'" Scissor Sisters
I defy you to not feel like dancin' to this. I think people in deep coma would be surreptitiously tapping their (mental) toes to this song in defiance of all things medical. Like all great pop tunes - it sticks in your head so that a week later you still have that piano thumping in the old craw. What total fun. What a great world.

Track 19: "Come Undone" Duran Duran, as interpreted by Bachelor Girl
Tricked ya! Yes, another offering from those poster boys for seemingly getting by on a modicum of talent and a bundle of good looks. I think that this song gives great proof that the opposite is true (except the good looking part - they are good looking - esp. Roger - growl!). This is a beautiful song - I love it better than the DD version (hope I don't get burned at the stake for heresy) - Simon Le Bon is whinier than usual in his effort but to give him credit, he did write the lyrics which I think are just wonderful. Bachelor Girl - another band on the whatever happened to...? list - let's check The Google: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bachelor_Girl
Is Wikipedia amazing, or what?

Track 20: "Going Home (Theme from "Local Hero")" Mark Knopfler
This is the song that I imagine will get played at my funeral. Brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it - I plan to have people heaving with great big dramatic weepy sobs... mmm. How sad.
But on a cheerier note - what a great film - definitely in my Top Ten of My All-Time Favourite Flicks. Great soundtrack. Great dialogue. Going home. Indeed.

Nadia: The Soundtrack Part One

2007-12-04T13:26:00.000+09:00

As a party favour/bonbonniere for my dear friends who attended my "Last Day of My 30s Party", I put together the millenial version of the 'mixed tape' - remember those? - and burned a CD with twenty of my favourite songs - all which have a connection to some period in my life.

[My dear friend, S. suggested that I should have called it "Nadia: The Musical" which is just so funny, I can't believe I didn't think of it and she did]

So - just to add another chapter to the Nadia: The Narcissistic Years boxed set, here are the sleeve notes for the CD:

TRACK 1: "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" Nancy Sinatra
My parents owned this 45 (I have since stolen it and actually played it on my brand-new $59.95 record player on Saturday night) and I listened to it constantly as a child. I had NO idea what the lyrics really meant - I just thought Nancy sounded a little mean/a little pissed off and little did I know she would have such an influence on the way I speak to my husband most days. Not that he's "messin' where [he] shouldna been messin'". Love the thrumming bassline and who can resist going ape-shit crazy when she tells those boots to "start walkin'!"

TRACK 2: "Let's Stick Together" Bryan Ferry
From the opening one-note sax riff, this song is three-minutes of solid lust. Remember the film clip with Jerry Hall's slutty little animal-printed sashay through the curtain? Even better - here it is, thanks to youtube:

How did she possibly think sexing it up with Mick Jagger was better than sexing it up with Bryan Ferry - was she really that afraid of becoming Mrs Jerry Ferry? This song is embedded in the ole brain as the song my brother and his friends used to actually dance to. Although maybe 'dancing' is too loose an interpretation of their imitation of the almost non-moving bass player. The thin moustache, the white suit, the sexy slim-hipped Bryan - sigh. Bryan Ferry was my first concert experience in 1976 and I still remember going mad when this song came on - not bad for a nine-year old. (Even if I did miss the two-hour episode of the Return of the Bionic Woman - it was worth it!)

TRACK 3: "Don't Stand So Close to Me" The Police
[I'm starting to detect a very strong sexual subtext in the songs so far - for a 40-year-old virgin I was sure a subliminally sexually-aware kid - who knew?]I just knew that this song was WRONG - it was sexy and WRONG - and made me even more aware that my feelings for my Human Biology teacher were sexy and WRONG. Nothing like a good dose of Catholic guilt to suppress those urges. Sting, whatever you think of him - he is a bit of a pretentious dork, really - does certainly have a way with words and the ole vocal chords do make him one of the most distinctive voices of the era. I still love the song even now that I know who Nabokov is - that was a lightbulb moment!

TRACK 4: "Rio" Duran Duran
Aaaahhhh...Rio...like a birthday or a pretty view...two of a billion stars... you really do mean that much to me, you really do. I think my buddies thought the entire CD would be a playlist of Duran Duran songs (and see below for the sneaky way I snuck them in) but no. There was no need to have more because I am confident in my love for them [even Andy, although he is no longer in the band (thank God)]. No need to overdo the sheer exhilaration of basking in the glow of my boys. They are so "me in the 80s", it's not funny. I vowed that I would never look back on my sixteen-year-old self and laugh in derision and I haven't - I can't. I know it sounds ridiculous, but this band really did give me so much. They gave me friends (met half of them in the queue for tickets), they gave me a world view, they gave me lots of laughs and joy. And they'll continue to do so, because come 6 April, I will be able to laugh and remember and rejoice and revisit that 16-year-old-self and honour that girl.

Track 5: "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" The Smiths
So what happens to a girl who enters teenagerhood loving Duran Duran and leaves loving The Smiths? I remember getting about as rebellious as I got by listening to them on my Walkman in class and having the principal talk to me about anger issues sitting on a bench in the school playgound. I thought "I've fooled you all" because I really wasn't all that miserable, I just loved that someone else could articulate it for me. Morrissey is a brilliant lyricist - his words are funny and biting and true - and he gave another gift to me: Oscar Wilde - I ended up reading everything he wrote and even visited his grave in Paris to pay homage - so that's not all bad.

Track 6: "Vagabond Moon" Robyn Dale Ford
Skip forward a few years to being a newlywed living in a cabin in the middle of Alaska. Ford is a Fairbanksan and I heard her as a support act for Don McLean at the Fairbanks Hockey Stadium (and we think this city has no appropriate concert venues - hah!) I love her plucky heart and her plucky banjo. This CD was also lasered into my brain by my Juneau upstairs neighbours Eric and Kate, who played her seemingly non-stop. Robyn Dale Ford fired up an unlikely love for the banjo which Eric then proceeded to destroy over the 18 months by his incessant practicing of said instrument. The banjo, when played by a master, is actually a beautiful thing. The banjo, when played by an enthusiastic beginner, is not.

Track 7: "Where Do the Children Play? Cat Stevens
This song is all wrapped up in my love for the movie "Harold and Maude" which, if you haven't seen it,... well, I don't even know what to say to you...try and see it. That movie formed what I believe to be my true life-view although I don't always live up to it. It's the life-view I wish I could live. And this song is still so remarkably relevant. I also listened to this CD a LOT when I lived in Alaska. I remember listening to this sitting on my crappy couch in my little one-roomed log cabin and thinking to myself "I am really happy".
A true classic. A beautiful song. Go Yusuf.

Track 8: "Galileo" The Indigo Girls
Again, an Alaskan memory. Must have worn out whatever grooves exist on a CD playing this constantly. And again, it's all angst-y and existential-y and confused about life. Our actions do have repercussions and I hope I'm burning off some negative karma for the next one. And I truly, to quote Queen Julie Andrews "somewhere in my youth or childhood [or last life], I must have done something good" to get such a great life this time 'round.

Track 9: "Beggar on the Street of Love" Jenny Morris
Another early marriage song. Love these lyrics of Paul Kelly's. So plaintive and raw and lovely. I love to sing this song to Sam. He doesn't alway love it though.

Track 10: "Want You Back" Take That
Living in Alaska where the headline act was Don McLean or 'Weird Al' Yankovich, I missed the whole Take That phenomenon. When I heard this song, it must have been a few years old. It made me want to leave my husband just so he would stand under my window, holding up a boombox with this song blaring a la Lloyd Dobbler. I love it - it's so freakin' romantic. Great musical climax, beautiful harmonies and how funny that one of those voices is Robbie Williams.

It's the mid-lfe crisis talking, people...

2007-12-02T09:07:00.000+09:00

It really is weird knowing almost to a certainty, given life expectancies and statistics and all that, that I actually only have up to half of my life left. I mean, I could be at 9/10s for all I know (hopefully not) but if I live an average lifespan, this is it. It's half over. Which is simultaneously horrifying and exciting.
Horrifying cause it's half over - and exciting because it's only half over. And I've always said that the first twenty years really don't count because you're learning all the basics - how to talk, walk and do algorithms ("You know what I don't understand?"). So adult life, which is really different to the protoplasm years - 0-19 - is really the start of your "life" so essentially, I may only be a third through my adult life, and when I was paying attention in math class, I did learn that a third is less than a half. So that's good news. And my life has seemed really long so far - in fact, to paraphrase Billy Connolly, it's the longest thing I've ever done - so the possibility that there are 40 more years ahead makes me tired.
But that could also be because I was up until 3am and awoken by a chorus of Happy Birthday accompanied by maraccas and bells by my kids at 7:30am. That could have more to do with it.

WHAT is going on?????

2007-11-29T21:18:00.000+09:00

Oh my God!!!

Now I know that my horoscope said that I would be entering into a good and lucky phase but this is freakin' RIDICULOUS!!!

This is what I have gotten for my birthday - and this is only 'so far' as it's NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY YET!!!

A new Prime Minister - really, Australia - you shouldn't have - but I'm really glad you did.
[I won't dwell on also being able to witness the total humiliation of the opposing party as I have already detailed that in a previous post and I wouldn't want to dwell on also being able to witness the total humiliation of the opposing party because I already talked about witnessing the total humiliation of the opposing party already in another post and I don't want to dwell...]
Tickets to Keating! The Musical which will be even sweeter because of the thing I didn't want to dwell on earlier...
A trip to Melbourne/Hobart to rendezvous with my dearest friend, J. to see one of my favourite singers - Rufus Wainwright.
My Mum is making my favourite cake for my birthday - Chocolate Prune Torte - YUM YUM YUM!!!
I'm going to have a fun girly party with my best girl buddies.
I am also going to have breakfast at my favourite beach-side cafe' with my family and even if it rains, it will even be more perfect as I love the rain and hate the heat.
An offer from my dear friend N., to go to the Festival event of my choice.

BUT - this is the ICING ON THE CAKE - the CHERRY ON TOP - the CREME DE LA CREME - and other food-related superlatives:

DURAN DURAN IS COMING TO TOWN AND I ALREADY HAVE A TICKET!!!

My cup runneth over, it surely does... I can't breathe - it's all too, too much.

Thank God, and the Universe for showering me with such riches - IN ADDITION to the wonderful family and friends I have - I am truly blessed.

O Happy Day!

2007-11-25T21:30:00.000+09:00

[CVW - you may not want to read this - you have been warned.]

I am a very happy woman today. I am blessed to live in a country that has a working political process. I've had to suck it up for the last twelve years but today I almost feel patriotic - I know - moi? I was watching John Howard concede last night and actually felt sorry for him for about a split-second but soon reminded myself that he was hoisted by his own petard - his megalomania got him in that situation - he really did have every chance to bow out gracefully but refused to. So hoist away!

And I really don't thank him for his 33 years of service, particularly the last twelve. I think he would have been terrific if he'd lived his political life in the 40s and 50s. He was perfectly suited in personality to a nation at war, a nation who clung to the White Australia policy, a nation living in fear. When I think of how he has been complicit in dividing this nation, it still angers me at all the time we've wasted shrinking in meanness instead of thriving with compassion.

Here's a little review of his 'finer' moments:

Refusing to say 'sorry'
The Children Overboard fiasco
Sabotaging the referendum on the Republic
Refusing to ratify Kyoto
Getting us into Iraq and lying about WMDs
Making people believe that the Federal Government controls interest rates
WorkChoices
Welfare to Work
Backing the Gunns Pulp Mill (and yes, I do realise that Labor did also but I think things might change now that The Greens did so well for them - go, Bob Brown!)
UPDATE - just remembered this one. The GST. And not just the GST but the GST on books. And not just the GST on books but the GST on educational texts. There is no justification for a tax on education. And the Democrats' karma bit them in the arse too.

Yep - back to not feeling sorry for him at all. Or his toadying sidekick, Smithers. What a pair - and we're rid of both of them - I haven't felt this happy since Karl Rove resigned. The next bit of good news would be that Malcolm Turnbull becomes Leader of the Opposition. We might actually get some bipartisan movement on climate change - and have a good chance of getting the Republic back on the agenda - shaking off the mantle of Mother England, once and for all.

O Happy Day, indeed!

I'm about to lose control and I think I like it...

2007-11-23T12:36:00.000+09:00

I'M SO EXCITED!!!

I bought my new 2008 Diary and with it a WHOLE NEW LIFE!

It looks as though turning 40 will see me lose all sense of financial reason. Some may think this has already happened - and they'd be right.

I've just booked tickets for two, count 'em, TWO concerts/shows next year. Going to see the 'hilarious smash-hit comedy'* KEATING! in January (the '!' is part of the title and I had nothing to do with it) and RUFUS WAINWRIGHT in February. I LOVE him and his sweet little gay ways. But the BEST thing is that I will be seeing Rufus in a city that is not this one- yes! INTERSTATE TRAVEL!!! Yay!

Also thinking about purchasing tickets for my favourite lesbian who is coming to this city in April but thought I might do some food-shopping first, pay the electricity bill and whatnot. Along with the extortionate school fees I will now be paying, I may need to just say a big "Steady, Thunder..." to my own sweet self.

OH - WHAT THE HELL! Let me get that credit card....

OH! And I may sign up for a phone plan that includes 12 free movie tickets so my plans of being courted by my girlfriends may have to wait for 2009! Well - you know they say 'the greatest love of all...'

*according to someone

What a difference a letter makes...

2007-11-20T18:54:00.000+09:00

My dear friend, Julia, just pointed out to me that if you type in http://the-picky-bitch.glogspot.com/ instead of 'blogspot', you are directed to a site called http://www.passion.com/ - you've got to admire those porn people - they have chutzpah in spades! Securing http://thewhitehouse.com/ - it used to be a porn site - now it's some bizarre commercial links site. For a time there, the owner of the domain http://www.westernaustralia.com.au/ threatened to sell it to a porn company - it's still inactive (drop the .au to get the WA Tourism site)...ahh, the smell of free enterprise - there's nothing like it.

Also, it seems as though some of you have taken my undergarment dilemma seriously. It was not my intention, although the thought of getting possibly close to 20 pairs of random knickers definitely has its appeal. So - I am a size 14-16, prefer boy leg cut and am not crazy about bikini style, crotchless or edible. Do with that what you will.

What I want for my birthday...

2007-11-18T15:24:00.000+09:00

I'm having a Girls Only Party to celebrate my 40th Birthday and what I really really want for my birthday is to be courted by my girlfriends. At the party, I will have a 2008 Diary that I want my buddies to start filling in with our 'dates' throughout the year.
I want to be wined and dined and taken to breakfast, lunch and dinner. Taken to the movies, the theatre and museums. I've realised that I don't really need or want any more 'stuff' but what I do want is to enter into the next decade knowing that I will have time with the friends that I've loved, some for almost 40 years, some for only a few.
So that's what I want for my birthday. Your undivided attention. Time with you...and possibly new knickers - the knickers I have are TERRIBLE. I still have knickers from being pregnant - real Nanna/Partial-Eclipse-of-the-Sun-When-They're-Hung-Out knickers.

So time.

And underpants.

That's it.

My Man Bill

2007-09-25T20:11:00.001+08:00

President Bill Clinton on The Daily Show - the full uncut interview. Jon and Bill - aaahhhh...like a song in my heart. Two of my favourite men. Buy Clinton's book Giving - How Each of Us Can Change the World - it will make you happy...

Anita Roddick

2007-09-12T14:15:00.000+08:00

Anita Roddick died this week at age 64 of a brain haemorrhage.

I felt really saddened by this news. I met her at a public lecture and booksigning many years ago and she had that typical famous person's inability to look you in the eyes (I know a haven't met a lot of famous people but the ones I have met all exhibit this - maybe they think they'd turn to stone or something). Her energy was palpable. She was a 4'10" vortex. Very magnetic.

She ate my food (I catered the event). She signed my book "To Nadia. The last one!! Yea!! Anita Roddick" She was referring to me being last in the queue. She had signed hundreds of books by then - the lecture was one of the most successful we'd staged.

There is a photo of the bookshop staff and Anita somewhere. She was a wee lady who took up all the space in the room.

She was principled and strong. And had totally mad hair. I remembered thinking -bitchily - that she could have used some of her own product.

Not only will I miss her, I think the planet will in some way mourn. She was definitely on its side and it needs all the allies it can get these days.

Update on the Green Challenge...

2007-08-25T13:05:00.000+08:00

Last week we had a solar hot water heating system installed - that was one of the things that I had on my list of many moons ago. And bloody hell - the water's frickin' HOT. We have a gas booster so I'll be really curious as to how the gas bill will drop over coming months. It's so pretty sitting up there on our silver roof. I love it.

Man - do I love me some Jon Stewart...

2007-08-15T14:28:00.001+08:00

This is the BEST news I have heard in, oooh, let me think - about almost eight years now...

Click here for a laugh and break out the champagne.

We won't miss you, Turd Blossom.

Here we are again...

2007-07-08T10:14:00.000+08:00

So I just discovered that you can back-date your blog entry so even though today is really the 8th of July, I could pretend that I am an incredibly devoted Picky Bitch (instead of the slacker that I really am) and date it any date I like.

Ooh...the power....

But I won't, because everyone that knows me, knows that I am a slacker and why lie to those you love?

I am facing down the barrel of two weeks of school vacation like it's a Glock - I love my kids but it's not even Monday of the first week and my previously very brown hair is streaking up a grey storm.

Mothers of the world, unite. The only thing you have to lose is your mind.

Bad attitude day.

I have actually been cooking (make that, baking) up a storm so if they were still giving out Betty Crocker Future Homemaker pins, I'd be in with a chance (and in some pretty esteemed company, hey J. and Barbara Kingsolver, if you're reading this...I know you are, J.)

Been baking pies out the kazoo - luscious apple pies with flaky, flaky crusts. Vegetable pies, savoury fruit pies (an intruiging apple/cheese pie - jury is still out on that one) and I am LOVING the pastry experience. I feel that same awe as when I first baked a loaf of bread. I made this. I MADE THIS.

Sort of like having children but not as edible.

Whatever happened to my blog???

2007-05-22T13:32:00.000+08:00

Wow.

It's been a while since I wrote - 8 April. Now it's 26 May. Holy cow.

So what cheerful little tidbit do I have to share today?

You know - I don't even want to go there...

My hair is back to brown. Very brown. Probably too brown. After the past two months of having hair in every shade of blue, violet and red, I was heading for Skanky Ho Blonde Streak Land - it was time to get it back to the brown I was born with. I used a box dye from the supermarket in 'Darkest Brown' (because I'm worth it) so I can hardly be too surprised to discover it's very very brown indeed. I really didn't believe anything I bought from the store could cover all the bleachy bits, but it has. This whole exercise has made me realise that I really do love the natural colour of my hair and I doubt I'll ever dye my hair again. I always thought I would embrace the gray and I might have a spaz about that in years to come so the jury's out, really.

Okay, my dog died.

I thought I could get through this post without blurting that out cause I've just been Little Miss Sunshine ever since I started this blog but I couldn't.

I miss my beautiful Denali, my baby-dog, my first-born 'son', my buddy, my pal. I loved him a lot and I'll miss his sweet ways forever. Go sniff lots of whiffy things, wherever you are, sweet boy.

It does make you think...

2007-04-08T18:18:00.000+08:00

I read Salon on a fairly regular basis I think it's gone through a few shifts - it had times when it was terrific - now it's in a not-so-terrific phase of its life. They mess with the layout all the time and it gets irritating. Isn't the fact that an online magazine changes everyday satisfying enough without having to change the layout every five seconds as well? Are people bored that easily?
Anyway, in Salon is a section called Broadsheet with which I have a love/hate relationship - there is a very smart-arse tone to the writing which I can appreciate at times but at others I find annoying (Pot? Meet Kettle) and the section is rife with "thinking women's"-style stories. They include a lot of crap but often a "I can't believe that happens anymore" piece comes along and then, every once in a while, they'll make mention of a story that just makes my jaw drop in wonder. Not always good wonder but wonder nonetheless.

Today they had one of those stories.

It references a op-ed piece in The New York Times by Thomas Friedman - I think you need to be a paid subscriber to access the full story - ya can't get nothin' for free anymore - but here is the blurb as posted in Broadsheet:

Life-changing Maxi-pads?
New York Times: Here's a no-nonsense approach to quickly improving the lot of Kenyan women and girls: Provide them with Maxi-pads. Thomas L. Friedman's Op-Ed suggests that access to sanitary napkins is much more than an issue of comfort or convenience. Naisiae Tobiko, a native to Kenya's Masai region, told Friedman that around puberty she started to notice some that some girls would miss a few consecutive days of class each month. Friedman writes, "When she finally asked, they confided that they did not come to school when they were menstruating -- because their parents could not afford sanitary napkins." Some tried to make due with "rags or soil or mud," says Tobiko. But, ultimately, many of her classmates dropped out of school because they had already missed too many days of school.

Wow.

WOW.

This planet houses so many different worlds. There is my world in which I can buy anything I want (and I mean pretty much anything, if I took full advantage of every credit card offer that came in the mail - I send 'buy', not 'pay for'). And then there is a world where girls don't go to school because they still have to use "rags or soil or mud" - RAGS! SOIL! MUD! to deal with their period. I mean - wow. I am a spoiled, privileged, RICH RICH RICH person compared to so many people on this planet. I kind of knew that on some level, but that story - knowing that those girls are halting their education every month, because they are still dealing with an age-old phenomenon in an age-old way. The thought of these girls at least being able to pursue an education is wonderful. The fact that they're staying home because of lack of pads or tampons is heartbreaking. What a juxtaposition for them. A 20th century right hampered by a 21st century wrong.

Don't it make your brown [hair] blue...continued

2007-04-02T14:05:00.000+08:00

Isn't it amazing what relatively normal people will do for money?

Thanks for all the monetary and emotional support as I now navigate through life with blue hair.

I could say that it hasn't made all that much of a difference to my life but I'd be lying. I have had to question myself at length. I thought I had the kind of personality that would be able to take the stares and finger-pointing but I really don't. I am a bit freaked out to be honest.

When I think of why I did this, I feel better. Better to have blue hair than none at all. Unless you're my brother. And then you've just been screwed by genetics, not cancer.

All I'm saying now is that with my HUGE fundraising efforts (AUD$1300 and counting) they had better find a damn cure!

I knew there was a reason I didn't like her...

2007-03-02T19:15:00.000+09:00

Just reading through Salon.com's story "Why do journalists suddenly love Al Gore?" (you may have to sign in with a day pass to the site, but it's worth reading) and along comes that name - and I suddenly feel even more justified for not kneeling at this woman's feet when she came to speak at the Festival a couple of years ago.

Yes - MAUREEN DOWD. Yeuck.

There's a great link to Media Matters which details (to quote salon.com) "[h]er past columns on the subject of Gore, replete with false accusations and trendy sneering, [which] is must reading."

I know that I'm am so off-topic with The Picky Bitch. This blog has turned more into an Al Gore lovefest - maybe I should rename it! I thought that I needed an outlet for all those nasty thoughts I had about life in general and how stupid people are in particular but maybe life is too short to bog down in that kind of thing. It's SO much more rewarding to bitch about Maureen Dowd.

Yay Yay Yippee Yahoo!

2007-02-27T15:04:00.000+09:00

Although I missed this - set the tape for the wrong freakin' channel, thank you very much - I was very happy to see this on youtube. What a ham, but I love him anyhoo...

Don't it make your brown hair blue?

2007-02-26T16:49:00.000+09:00

I have finally gotten up the nerve to enter The World's Greatest Shave (or in my case The World's Greatest Dye Job). Every year the Leukaemia Foundation gets people to ask others for sponsorship to shave or dye their hair. This year is my turn.

For the low, low price of $1,000 (can I even write that without thinking of Dr Evil? And yes - I know it was $1,000,000!) I will be dyeing my hair to match Al's tie (as below). (Who needs an excuse to drag THAT photo out for another airing!?)

To clarify - not the whole head of hair - just big old streaks of it - think Lily Munster.
So if you want to sponsor me (and let's face it - I already know that the 3 people who read The Picky Bitch already have sponsored me but I live in hope of hitting the big time!), click here.

What is it with people who...

2007-02-21T15:02:00.000+09:00

...have vanity plates that are the variations on the make of the car? The worst offenders seem to be PT Cruiser drivers. I have seen: PTCRUZ PT, CRUZR, CRUISER (at least that one could spell) and CRUZ. WHY??? Do they think that we are unable to determine the make of the vehicle and literally need to (mis-) spell it out for us? It is not even that the shape of a PT Cruiser could easily be mistaken for any other car on the road either. It has a big fat ass and you know when one is bearing down at you. It is not often that I am peering down the road, thinking to myself, "Hmm, isn't that a....? Oh, what is it again? Oh darn, if only the driver were courteous enough to have a vanity plate that would tell me the name of that car!" Other offenders are Porsche owners - my favourite - "P911" - make AND model! Can't beat that! You will notice that the cars are usually at the higher end of the vehicular price range - not often will you see "HNDAIXEL" or DHATSWIFT? Funny, that.

Seven years...

2007-02-02T22:00:00.000+09:00

I've spent most of the day wondering if I should post something about it being seven years since my Dad died. My posts have been so miserable lately and I really didn't want it to be a maudlin entry. But it's getting late and although I went to visit his grave this morning - something I always feel a little ambivalent about as although I don't really believe he's there (I actually believe he's been re-born as my daughter as the resemblance around the eyes is spooky to me sometimes - maybe that's what reincarnation actually is - genetics), I do believe there is a part of him there although I don't really want to think too closely about that without getting morbid AND gruesome - I did feel as though I should mark the day somehow and not only by creating the world's longest sentence in history.

My Dad was a terrific guy.

[J. - are you crying yet?]

He was about as stubborn as a human being can be without being an actual mule and boy, did he love to argue. But he also loved to laugh - you never heard my Dad laugh as much as felt him - he would convulse silently, in place, progressively turning more and more red in the face until he finally exploded. Seeing him laugh made me laugh all the harder myself.

I think the thing about him being gone that I find the hardest to deal with is that he is really gone. I don't dream about him that often but just about a month ago, I dreamt that he was still alive and he was explaining to me that he wasn't dead after all but had been on a deserted island in the Pacific as part of a reality TV show that he had entered. The problem was that the only person who knew where he was, my friend Virginia (who has been dead for 11 years this April) had died - and so he was stuck on this island but had made the best of it by becoming an expert in the island's eco-system and was now actually very famous and rich because of it.

Weird and crazy dream-shit. Sometimes I really wonder about my own capacity for dream-fantasy - no wonder I wake up exhausted most mornings.

The best thing about the dream was that I got to hug him and I smelled him again. Dad always smelled salty and humid but not in a yucky way - he was like an ocean with skin.

God I miss him.

I miss him being a grandfather to my kids. My Dad was grooming himself his entire life to be a Nonno and only got to be one to my nephew for a little over 4 years. It sucks and it's unfair and it sucks.

Don't post comments about this to me, please. I just needed a vehicle to get this out but I don't really want to hear anything about it.

Thanks.

Sorry for the delay...

2007-01-21T18:52:00.000+09:00

My friend, J., brought to my attention that it's been a while since I bitched so I thought I had better shoot off a little something to keep her happy.

Seems that 2007 is shaping up to be a 'doing' year for me. I think, facing 40 later this year, I've finally come to realise that all those tired cliches - 'life isn't a dress rehearsal', 'Life is a journey, not a destination' - are immortalised in coffee cups and those cheesy PowerPoint slide shows I get in my email for a reason - they are true.

So what have I been waiting for??? When is my life going to start?

When I lose 15 kilos, be svelte and have perky boobs? Maybe - but have I done anything to make this a reality? I've always wanted this to happen without engaging in any form of exercise, discipline or dieting. Now I need to get my head out of my sagging ass and face the fact that it ain't gonna happen unless I start to think about getting off said sagging ass.
When I suddenly get 'discovered' as a major writing/singing/cooking talent? By a Broadway talent scout who happens to read The Picky Bitch and walks by my window one day while I'm singing show-tunes and baking cupcakes. You know, I think one of the biggest mistakes in my life was to believe my own press. When I was in high school, one of my English teachers wrote in my yearbook that he thought I was capable of great things and that he was sure he'd be reading about me one day. (My Religious Ed teacher also said that she thought I could be a great religious leader but I just think she was just recruiting for the nunnery). So I have always believed that one day I would be a published author, living in a loft in New York and dabbling in a little off-Broadway musical action in my spare time. Wow, what an imagination. The only writing I've ever done has been this blog - and it's been three weeks since my last entry. Such devotion to my craft.

I think I've come to realise that my life is already in progress and for some reason - hitting 40? a new year that ends in '7', one of my favourite numbers? finally getting it? - I've already packed in quite a lot this year.

Things I've already done this year:

Repainted my hall which was a very dark blue (which I actually did like for a long time) to a celestial blue - for some reason named "Jockey" by the weirdos in the paint-name department at the paint factory - must be the fumes. It totally changes the feel of the house for me, highlighting all the other walls that needs repainting - it sets up an expectation that the rest of the house is actually nicer than it is but maybe that's the inspiration I need to keep going. But my heart lifts looking at it so I guess that's a good thing.
Painted the tile in my kitchen. Not that I didn't like the avocado green swirl on the cream tile - I loathed it. Another thing that I've been looking at for the last 10 years while cooking, washing the dishes, boiling the kettle and thinking, "Ick." Well, we have the technology, we can rebuild him. I went to the hardware store and there it was - tile paint - and now it's just cream coloured, which a la hallway, just makes the kitchen walls look grimy and yucky. So painting the kitchen is next. I think.
Sorted through the kids' clothing in order to sell them at a`swap meet. That was difficult. I am so goddamned sentimental, it's nuts. I remember my kids wearing every piece and I have to be honest, I've still kept a bunch but I managed to whittle down the stuff to 2 boxes from 4. It's progress.
I cleaned out the area under my sink. David Attenborough should have been on hand to document the wildlife inhabiting it. Icky cockroach carapaces everywhere. I have basically not opened those cupboards for about 5 years in fear of what was under there. Totally justified fear, I'm afraid. I'm embarrassed to admit it but nothing like a little cyber-humiliation to ensure it'll never happen again.
I have started to ride my bike - only a couple of times a week so far - but I am loving that bike. So far, no obvious weight loss, boob-perking or svelteness making an appearance but it's early days ( is that grammatically correct? - it's early days - to say 'they're early days' sounds weird - comments, people? PB has fallen off the grammar perch tonight.)

And it's only 23 January. Maybe I will be a Broadway-starring, loft-dwelling, perky-boobed novelist one day. Or maybe I won't. But it will be my life - and that's just good anyway it comes.

I goat you a gift...

2007-01-05T12:06:00.000+09:00

This one is for TJ and RC...

I've told this story a number of times now and thought it so amusing that I've decided to share it with the world...

While at a New Year's Day breakfast, I was talking with one of my oldest and dearest friends, RC about Christmas and what Santa brought us. RC's husband is a GP and often gets showered with gifts all year long from his grateful patients who are mainly old aged ethnic pensioners - those cute little old nonni that seem sweet but would put out a hit on you so fast if you messed with their families you'd be in concrete shoes before you could blink - you know the ones. He especially gets inundated at Christmas - I often think of the scene in To Kill a Mockingbird, where Atticus gets paid in potatoes and collard greens and imagine RC surrounded by bushels of whatever is growing locally in little old ladies' gardens that season. But she seemed particularly excited by one gift and so goes the exchange:

RC: We got a goat.

PB (that's me): Oh! I got a goat too! My friend TJ got me a goat through Oxfam. What a great idea - that's what we ended up buying for all our family overseas - we bought sewing lessons in Africa and a carpentry workshop and a business start-up...

I stopped speaking when I noticed my friend's expression as I was blathering on about Oxfam and goats and chickens...

RC: No, you don't understand - we got a goat.

And then I understood. We weren't talking Oxfam, we were talking carcasses.

RC then went on to describe the phone-call from her husband and the subsequent panic as she had to drive to his surgery to collect said goat. Like Laura Palmer, the goat (mercifully headless but otherwise intact) was wrapped in plastic. Luckily, she has a spare refrigerator (one of those half-fridge, half freezer jobs, I think) which she cleared out by taking out the shelves and found she had to shove the cadaver in vertically as it would not fit in any other way. While all the time shrieking "eeeuuuwww....eeeuuuwww..." as you would.

Now to most people, being on the receiving end of a goat would be an interesting space to be in. What the hell do you do with a whole goat? I don't even own a knife that would cut butter effectively let alone a cleaver that could do some damage to a real animal. My butchering skills lie on about a par with being able to tell the chicken thigh from a breast but even then sometimes those damned plump thighs will have me looking twice (damned hormone-injected chickens and their fat thighed ways!).

So what did RC do? What any self-respecting Italian girl does on receipt of a goat - she calls her dad.

[If my Dad were still alive, and I had made that phone-call, "Dad, someone gave me a fresh goat" - it would be news on a par with Italy winning the World Cup (AGAIN!) or them finally acknowledging that William Shakespeare was Italian after all (my father believed that anything good in this world naturally is of Italian origin).]

RC's dad sets a land-speed record for getting to her house and all is well. He has a wood-fired oven, people - this man knows what to do with a goat.

So all's well that ends well.

Now I'm hankering for a little marinated capretto....mmmmm...

What will the New Year bring?

2006-12-31T18:12:00.000+09:00

Who knows?

New Year's Eve is not my favourite day of the year - too much expectation, too much pressure. Who are you going to kiss at midnight? No mystery there. Pretty much a given for me for the past 15 years. What are you going to wear? Generally something that becomes uncomfortable by about 9:30pm. And then there are the dreaded New Year's resolutions - eek. As I never drank enough to feel the need to give it up, one year I actually made the resolution to drink more - but less than a month later, I discovered I was pregnant. [Note to self: Possible correlation? Maybe.] So although joyful news, it was a bummer only because I actually believed I had discovered a resolution I could really get behind, for once.

The best New Year's Eve I ever had was six years ago - 31 December, 2000. The year 2000 was the crappiest year of my life - both my Dad and Grandpa died (within weeks of each other) and by the end of the year, my husband and I had been trying to get pregnant for 3 years. Things got better with the birth of my niece in early December and as I was a witness to her birth, (more or less - I was loading the freaking camera with high-speed film with my back turned to the action when she suddenly emerged - goddamned non-digital cameras and their film-requiring ways!) I think things got mentally (and obviously physically) unstuck as New Year's Eve saw me making that trip to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. My husband and I were giddy and sick to our stomachs with the anticipation and lo and behold, after peeing all over my hand, the little line showed its pretty little line-like face. Sigh.

Apart from the joy of actually being pregnant - finally, at last, finally - the best part of the night was telling my Mum, who had sustained such loss. She was planning a very morose New Year's Eve, by herself at home but once we told her the news - she was recharged. It was wonderful. We spent the night with good friends who had also been through the crapper, V, emerging from chemotherapy for breast cancer and her husband K, having to witness his new bride enduring that hideous treatment. So K got smashed for all of us, my Mum and husband not being huge drinkers and it was a fabulous and glorious end to a shitty year and a wonderful start to the next.

So that's my Best New Year's Eve story.

Hope this one is full of joy for all and you get to kiss the person you want to and you're still comfortable in your stilettoes at midnight.

The Christmas Spirit hits... and not a moment too soon.

2006-12-26T19:04:00.000+09:00

Is 6:30pm on Christmas Eve too late to be hit by the Christmas Spirit? I think what happened was I shared so much of my pre-Christmas angst with so many that I infected my loved ones and so by comparison, I seemed almost cheerful. Thanks to all who listened to my ranting and basically absorbed it for me - I feel a lot better now.

The summer of my discontent...

2006-12-23T18:59:00.000+09:00

Okay, so maybe I should have titled this blog The Whiny Bitch - would be more apt at the moment. I really did start this blog with the intention of highlighting all those annoying spelling mistakes I stumble across on a fairly regular basis...

[NEWSFLASH: Was out at dinner the other night and on the menu, without a hint of apology was:

Brushetta

Now - what could I possibly say to that? At least, at least, they had the chutzpah to spell it the way most people pronounce it and I found myself in that surreal situation where I actually mispronounced it in order to not be wrong. Good grief.]

...but it seems as those it metamorphosed into a therapy session with the potential of having eleventy million therapists (although I am not that mired in my own sense of self-importance - I know that only 3 people actually read this - and I thank each and every one of you - you know who you are).

The humbugedness I wrote of earlier is not dissipating, but is actually getting a little worse.

Maybe it's just the heat.

Maybe it's just me.

Ho Ho Hum...

2006-12-19T14:36:00.000+09:00

I suppose I should be thinking about Christmas but as it's still 6 days away, what's the hurry?

We're not hosting this year, which is fine by me as for some reason, I'm totally bah humbug about the whole thing. I think the reason is that, for some bizarre reason, I have most of my Christmas shopping done and the fact of being relatively organised is sitting so badly with me, I'm finding it hard to cope. I'm also in a soul-searching time in my life (in case you hadn't noticed) and while yes, I like Christmas and I like shopping and I like consuming - I also feel a little paralysed and confronted by the total sham of Christmas and what it's become. Actually, why stop there - it's not just Christmas but pretty much the whole world.

Is this the first true sign of "My Midlife Crisis"?

Why are people so mean to each other? Why do people continue to ignore warning signs - of relationships in crisis, of political games, of global warming? Am I the only one who SEES?? Surely that can't be true. Surely more people know that we're in that handbasket and where we're heading?

Ack. I'm depressing myself. Time to make cookies.

Elvis has left the building

2006-12-14T07:17:00.000+09:00

Here I am posting in an undisclosed location, far away from home...

The first time I have left my kids and already the Guilt Gods (who travel with me wherever I go) have reared their ugly heads and bestowed their punishment upon me for daring to leave my sweet, sweet children behind: the airline lost my bag.

There is a happy ending as it should be here in a couple of hours but there was a good period of misery time in there, so the gods should be placated and I will be able to change my underwear by lunch time so everything is hunky-dory.

The real stinger? The airline made me pay excess baggage charges for the bloody thing.

Not happy.

Happy Birthday to me!

2006-12-02T11:45:00.000+08:00

Yes, many happy returns and all that for moi. And I'm not afraid to tell how old I am. I am now 39 years old. Yes and hopefully I will be turning 40 next year. Funny, that.

I had a great day - went out a bought a bicycle for a combined birthday/Christmas present (people may feel that having a birthday close to Christmas is unfortunate but it actually has its advantages, one being that you can justify buying a big present for your birthday and tell people, ie. your husband, that the one present will do for both occasions and then by the time Christmas rolls around, they/he would have forgotten and then feels compelled to buy another - bwah ha ha!). I rode it home and didn't die. The boy (and he was a boy, bless him) at the cycle shop exchanged the seat from a ball-buster to one that didn't impinge on my ladybits too much - reasonably comfortable and no need to wear 17 sanitary napkins, a la my friend J.

Went out to lunch with dear friend, C. - we went to a Japanese place with a conveyor and were speculating on the success of a similar concept with cake. Should the conveyor proceed in a clockwise rotation, heaven help the poor schlubs who would be sitting to the left of us, is what I say. NO CAKE FOR YOU!

Found a nice work dress - in black, of course - is there any other non-colour? And of course, because it was my birthday, it was reduced and then when I went to pay, it was reduced again - the Shopping Gods really do look out for me, they surely do.

Went and spent a blissful hour in an unnamed chain bookstore which deep in my soul, I know is an abomination as I am a diehard independent bookstore gal from way back but DAMN - they have a fantastic cookbook section - what's a girl to do? Plus I had a 30% voucher to use so at least I know they were only making 10% off that deal which assuaged the chainstore guilt somewhat.

Friends came over for an easy dinner. Made some stunning cupcakes - Magnolia Bakery Vanilla with cream cheese frosting - used C's piping tip and bugger me if they didn't look like they came straight from a bakery. Blew out my one candle and made my wish and all was right with the world as I watched fireworks from the local fair to finish the day.

Aaaaaahhhh. Lovely.

Al and The Picky Bitch

2006-11-19T16:20:00.000+08:00

Once upon a time there was a girl named Picky who lived in a far away land... She dreamed about ex-Vice Presidents on a semi-regular basis and was very excited to hear that one was coming to her fair city - and best of all, that it was her favourite ex-VP, Albert Gore Jr. When she came to think about it, she actually realised that she had no other favourite ex-Vice Presidents other than him as all the others were either crooks, illiterates or Republicans - and then when she thought about it some more, she realised that they were actually all of those three things pretty much in every case - but back to the story...

Al was coming to speak to her city about a terrible thing called "global warming". Picky has heard about this wretched phenomenon (and had read the book and seen the movie) but knew in her heart that she had to see her sweet ex-VP in person to get the full picture - actually, it was really more of a case of her wanting to exchange a bit of that dreaded CO2 with him - talk about carbon emissions! - but 15 years of marriage to her other sweet prince was gonna kinda sorta put the brakes on that fantasy.

The day arrived for the Climate Change Ball. What to wear? Luckily her fairy godmother, LaVisa (who knew how to take her where she wanted to be), suggested with a little mind-wallet merge trick that she does, to point Picky to the fabled Myer where she found a kicky little number with her name on it (and 30% off just for good measure). Add to the ensemble the snappy shoes referred to in previous posts and Picky was all set for the Ball.

She arrived in a daze, "Where was her VP?" Oh yes, there he was, making sure his Apple was in good working order. Oh how handsome he looked. Yes - he'd gotten a little chunky. And a little grey at the temples. And Picky really didn't understand what it was about Al that made her heart race - it was really that he made her brain race. She loved a smart guy - but not a smart ass. Yes, Picky's Other Sweet Prince was there as well (looking very snazzy in an outfit supplied by his fairy godmother aka Amexia) - he liked smart guys as well. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Then it was time to be seated and listen to boring old white men from evil organisations and corporations talk crap about how they were leading the way in creating, sorry, combatting global warming. And then much to Picky's surprise, the leader of her fair land (state, definitely not country) spoke and impressed upon Picky with his intellect, humour and not to forget - his damn sexy voice. Picky thought, Hmmm - he is a hottie... not in the same league as Al - could be a good substitute though, once Al left town, for her weird politico fantasies.

It was then almost time for the ex-VP to address the masses. But not before a bathroom stop. Was it fate or kismet (or are they the same thing?) that Al had to pass by Picky's table in order to perform his ablutions? Picky thought that it might be further intervention of her fairy godmother, this time in the guise of her friend Boss Lady, who grabbing Al's arm, told the stunned personage that he just had to meet his greatest fan, something that certainly he had never heard before. And then, and then...the first words that Al spoke to Picky, words she would never forget:

"Lovely dress."

"LOVELY DRESS"

HE LIKED MY DRESS! HE LIKED MY DRESS! HE LIKED MY DRESS! HE LIKED MY DRESS!

And then, Picky had her photo taken with Al (and her Sweet Prince) - and all was well.

They all lived happily ever after. Or at least until CO2 emissions hit 600ppm.

Oh Happy Day!!!

2006-11-09T07:04:00.000+08:00

So here are the last 24 hours of my life, chronicled...

Things that made this the best day I've had in a long time:

Had a fantastic dream about Al Gore. No - not one of those dreams but just as good. We were hanging out together, talking about the state of the world. I told him how proud I was of what he was doing. At one point we were laying on a couch, head to toe, under a blanket (I told you - NOT one of those dreams, people!) just chatting - he told me he had 11 grandchildren (?) and how they were his primary motivation. I asked him flat out how he thought we were going to make out (make out as a planet - sheesh - how many times? It was NOT ONE OF THOSE DREAMS! Damn it) and he had to concede that he just didn't know - which he doesn't. Anyhow, I woke up with a great sense of calm, that maybe things weren't as awful, that there was hope. Nice.
Woke up in the morning to hear that although the polls hadn't closed yet in most states in the US, things were looking good for the Democrats. As I'd heard that before (Nov 2000, Nov 2004...), I wasn't putting much stock in it. Vowed I wouldn't look at the news until the polls had closed in California.
Had a pleasant morning hanging around the house, doing a little ironing (I know, I know...) - in all, a reasonably relaxed environment. The child was playing nicely and being ultra-cute.
Went out with child and my Mum. We did not irritate each other, I did not say anything mean - we had a lovely lunch together. The child was still ultra-adorable. We shopped.
Don't you just love when this happens... I'd been looking for a pair of shoes - shoes that would somehow make my Size 10 flippers look dainty and not quite so flipper-like. A hard ask, I know. Just happened to glance into a store that markets to girls, perpetuating the old "lamb dressed as mutton" look and saw a pair of shoes on the sale table that looked just the ticket. They were my size, they had a heel that seemed negotiable (I have a problem with bad knees and gravity) and they miraculously made my huge feet look somehow, I know, I know - dainty and not quite so flipper-like. AND THEY WERE ON SALE!! Reduced from $100 to $80 (not too shabby). But then... but THEN, people - pause for dramatic effect - when I went to pay for them - THEY WERE REDUCED AGAIN - YES! THE OLD '30% OFF THE LAST MARKED PRICE' chestnut! I LOVE it when that happens!!
Bought another skirt for a mere $20. AND my Mum (blessed woman) paid for it for me AND used her senior's discount (she doesn't look a day over 50) and so she saved on part of my birthday present and I got a new skirt - winners all 'round!
Had to go to the dentist (something that doesn't usually qualify for lists like these) but the end result is that I got my splint (to prevent me grinding my teeth to buggery) to wear at night and I suppose the inconvenience of wearing it is off-set by actually being able to keep my own teeth for a few more years.
While shopping, got a call on my mobile phone (and actually caught the call before it went to message bank - so rare an occurrence for me, it's not funny) from my hairdresser. I'd been put on a waiting list (3rd on the list too) to get my hair done (for my conference next week, for dinner with Al) and lo and behold - they'd had 3 cancellations and I could get my hair done THAT AFTERNOON at 5:30pm.
The weather was more in keeping with a November day - not blazingly hot and humid - sunny, yes - but also breezy - delightful.
Had an encounter with a make-up counter creature (they are not women - don't let anyone tell you that they are) - and managed to survive it with my self-esteem intact, my principles in place and a lip liner that totally matches my current lipstick - SNAPS!
Had a delightful haircutting experience with one of my favourite males who is not my husband. Mr G is sweet, funny, straight (and married to the lovely Mrs G who is also gorgeous), shares my political and social views and can make me look like a freaking movie star for AT LEAST five and a half hours at a time. Got a great haircut, some styling tips and even bought some product.
Got home to find out that the Democrats had swept the House and could (go recount in VA and MT!) take control of the Senate. The House had its first female Speaker (go Nancy!) and Rick Santorum had been defeated. Hah! I LOVE it when that happens.
Went to sleep with the splint and realised it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Slept well knowing that I wasn't cracking my teeth to smithereens while I slept.
Woke up this morning (as I woke up at 5am, it comes into the 24 hours since I woke up yesterday) to read online that DONALD RUMSFELD HAS RESIGNED! Glorious, glorious day - I LOVE it when that happens.

Husband is going around the house singing "Beautiful Day" by U2, Child 1 is rousing from sleep, Child 2 who has been up since 5am is cute and gorgeous - and I feel as though the tide has turned. I LOVE it when that happens.

Enjoy your day too!

Spell checking the SpellCheck:
Oh these are beauties:
Santorum: 'sanatorium', 'sanitarium' (those are obvious), but this is one is priceless - 'tantrum'
Rumsfeld: 'misfield', 'misfiled', 'Roosevelt' (hardly!), and the best - 'remorseful' - I can only wish!

When I saw this the first time....

2006-10-31T21:52:00.000+08:00

...I would love to say that I thought:

"Typical! Another example of the patriarchy objectifying women!"
or
"Wow - I should show this to every girl I know to show them how official beauty is constructed."
or
"This is disgusting - we should boycott all makeup brands until they stop this shit."

But no, what I really thought, the first time I saw this clip was:

"Wow! I want them to do that to me!"

(In my defense, I did think the other thoughts when I watched it for the second, third and fourth time...)

Sorry for the silence...updated

2006-10-28T19:08:00.000+08:00

Yes, I've been busy. And actually a little worn down by all this inconvenient truth biting me in the ass.

I went back to the hardware store and located the correct type of light bulbs and now I have replaced the front porch light, the back porch lights, the lights in my kitchen and bedroom, the lights in our bedside lamps and the light in the living room lamp. I read that the light cast by the energy-efficient bulbs can be a little harsh - they are in effect, fluorescent tubes - but I must say I've been impressed with it. It doesn't make me look any more hideous than normal. And I actually like the light it casts in the bedroom, which has always been a bit gloomy. So, ironically, I'm actually using the lights in the bedroom more. Great.
I have been using the basin insert into the sink and not running the water so much which makes me feel all supercilious and smug. At least while I'm washing the dishes.
Man of the House (snerk!) has made enquiries about solar hot water systems. About $4000 to install but will pay for itself in about 5 years, provided it doesn't have that charming 'inbuilt obsolescence' feature common to most household appliances and it craps itself 4 years and 364 days after installation. We need to figure out how to work that into the household"budget" (double snerk!!). But I think we'll go ahead with that sooner rather than later. We'll go hungry but at least we'll be clean.
Prius...no, haven't gone there yet.
I have caught the train to work and the bus back once a week for the past two weeks and it wasn't awful - because I don't go to work in peak time, I always get a seat and it's always amusing to see what the young'uns are wearing these days.
I haven't tackled the phone thing yet. A friend told me that the phone company will supply a non-electrical phone if you go ask them for one and I could just get rid of the answering machine altogether which is a possibility as no one calls me anyway or knows to get a hold of me on the mobile. The jury is still out...

So - not all bad. I'm still trying to work my brain out of the "too little, too late" mental patterning. I have to believe that all these little things will make a difference. Look at what chaos those damned butterflies in the Amazon can cause with one wing flutter...damn those butterflies and their wing-flapping ways!

What I have done so far...

2006-10-18T12:08:00.000+08:00

I went to the hardware store this morning and bought up on energy-efficient light bulbs and have installed 6 so far that have just required me to stand on a kitchen chair to replace. Anything that requires a ladder is beyond me as I do not own a ladder, but I do 'own' a 6'2" husband who is the next best thing...

Of course I dropped one, shattering it into a million pieces. The child says to me: "Silly Mama" which is the latest phrase that is uttered a bazillion times a day. I should have said, "I'm doing this for your future, sunshine!" but the fact of the matter is that it was a little silly of me to try to balance on a rickety kitchen chair on an uneven porch to change the light bulb. Damn these kids with their know-all ways!

And then I discovered that some of my light fittings are bayonets and others are screw in types. So I have to go back to the hardware store to get the different types. And buy a replacement for the one I shattered. So I'm only going to use a tank of petrol to get this all right...sigh...

I know there is a "How many Picky Bitches does it take to change a light bulb?"-joke in all this somewhere but I just can't think of a decent punch-line. I'll leave that up to you...

Something I've done already that I've been meaning to do for ages...

2006-10-18T08:04:00.000+08:00

Our mailbox used to have a 'No Junk Mail' sticker on it that fell off at some point and I've been meaning to get a new one. I must admit that since becoming a mother, the crappy supermarket specials brochures would get me all excited to see who would have nappies on sale that week.

Well - no more. Forget the sticker - I couldn't wait until the stores were open - so I took to my letter box with a permanent marker and wrote: NO JUNK MAIL PLEASE (at least I said 'please') all over it. It looks totally classy and not 'white-trashy' at all!

But this is what gets me about the 'no junk mail' thing. Aren't those flyers already all printed? Does it really have an effect to ask to not have them? Don't the people stuffing them in mailboxes just ditch the ones left over? Is there another way to make my point? Should I be collecting them and sending them back (C.O.D.) to the store headquarters? Has anyone ever approached these chains about starting up a mailing list to be notified of weekly specials by email? I wouldn't mind that. It would make a change from being asked to enlarge my penis on a daily basis. Maybe I will call Supermarket HQ and suggest it? They all came on board about the plastic bag reduction thing - maybe this could be their next step.

The Spell Check prompted 'flyer' as a misspelling suggesting 'flier' so I looked it up on dictionary.com and it accepts both spellings - probably an American thing. It also informed me that a 'flyer' in Australian language (that obscure off-shoot of the Mother Tongue) is an 'exceptionally swift kangaroo' - who knew?

Earth in the balance

2006-10-17T22:36:00.000+08:00

Tonight I finally went to see An Inconvenient Truth and felt I really had to get some thoughts out there. I wouldn't say it was enjoyable - it wasn't Little Miss Sunshine - more like Little Miss Radiation, really - I cried in the car all the way home. But I am trying to take on board something that Al Gore said in the movie that seemed to be summing up all that I was feeling. And to paraphrase, he said something like: in the face of all this data, a lot of people will jump straight from denial into despair, without stopping to ask what they can do to change things.

So, even though I did sob all the way home, I was also trying to think of ways to make changes. So I'm putting them out there as a matter of public record. If anyone happens to stumble across this blog, feel free to nag me about whether I've done what I am about to say I will do.

Things I feel I can do to not only assuage a guilty conscience, but hopefully make a difference:

Replace the lightbulbs in the house with energy-efficient bulbs. I will not swap out the bathroom bulbs - it's one of those 4 in one deals with heat lamps but I will not use the heat lamps except in winter and only for the kids' baths.
Track down a push-button or rotary dial phone and disconnect my electric phone and answering machine. They are both plugged in all day every day and surely that adds up to a lot of energy consumption over the year. Also, I find the damned things break down after about a year and need to be replaced (nothing like in-built obsolescence) whereas I'm sure I had the same rotary dial phone in my house for my entire childhood. Also, in blackouts, it's dangerous not to have a functioning phone - every house should have a non-electric phone as a matter of public safety. I am going to wire the house with extra plugs so we can move the phone around according to where we want to talk - there are already outlets in the hall and kitchen and I'll get one put in the bedroom. In the meantime, I'll just get an extra-long cable. Regarding the inconvenience of not having an answering machine: I don't have that many friends and the ones I do have my mobile number.
Take the train to work one day a week. I drive because I need to get to school for pick-up but I can arrange for someone else to collect one day a week and when they grow up they may even thank me for my pathetic effort.
Use a basin to wash the dishes in. I live in an old house with a single sink in the kitchen and am absolutely guilt-stricken every time I do the dishes because I let the water run instead of fill up the sink. I will STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY. I will not stop rinsing the dishes though because not rinsing dishes is just disgusting.
Investigate installing a solar hot water system. This is a big expense but we were told recently that our gas hot water system is actually illegally installed and need to either get it moved or replaced. As good a time as any then to investigate changing systems altogether. Bank loan, here we come!
Even BIGGER - look into the cost of getting a hybrid car. Our cars (yes - we have two) are reasonably efficient Toyotas. You have to get on a waitlist here for a Prius - so let's get on the waitlist and hopefully by the time we get it, we can afford it!
Urge everyone I know to see An Inconvenient Truth. GO AND SEE IT! Seriously, this issue is bigger than politics, bigger than ideology - if you're a naysayer, entertain the thought that you might be wrong. I sure wish Al Gore was wrong, but sadly, I don't think he is. Let's listen to this Cassandra before it's too late.
Jump from denial into action, not despair. This needs to be my personal mantra as my nature tends to get stuck in the negative groove. If I can get upset at bad spelling...you get the idea.

This is not The Picky Bitch's usual rant. We will resume normal programming as soon as possible...

Okay, I couldn't resist - Checking the Spell Check:
lightbulbs - apart from light bulbs, which is probably more correct or should at least be hypenated, it prompted LETTER BOMBS - dear Jesus - what kind of people are on blogger.com!!!
waitlist - same deal - probably should be hyphenated but it prompted our SICK FUCK SPELL CHECK to suggest titlist - TITLIST ohhhhh... I just realised...it's ME who is the sick fuck... I was reading it as TIT-LIST but I think it means someone who has a title, as in Heavy-weight Titlist. Now I know what kind of people are on blogger.com and I'm one of them. I'm embarrassed.

I know, I know...YouTube strikes again...

2006-10-14T16:36:00.000+08:00

I'm overdoing the whole YouTube thing, I know, but there is so much great stuff on that site. I LOVE it.

Found this today and had to share.

Al Gore is coming to my town soon and I'm getting very excited at the thought of seeing him in person. It makes me wonder what it is about famous people that makes other non-famous people want to, or feel the need to be in their presence. I was trying to analyse my reasoning behind spending a lot of money to eat in the same room (it's a hoity-toity dinner event thing) as the former Vice President of the United States. My husband is going because he adores the man - I will be spending most of the night trying to calm him down and keep him in his chair. I will be working Secret Service detail on my own husband!

But really - and I don't think I'm the only one who has these feelings - what is it about celebrity or fame that is so intoxicating. Is it about making connections? Is it thinking that the celebrity/fame/fortune will somehow rub off - is fame contagious? Whenever I have met famous people - I've met a few - I've been taken aback by that total disconnect - I've looked them in the eye to see no one looking back. The exception was Patrick Stewart, who I accosted outside a Broadway theatre for an autograph. That man stopped, looked me in the eye, sustained eye contact for what seemed a million years and responded to my amazingly in-depth analysis of his turn as Prospero in The Tempest - "You were great" (yes, that's the best I could do - the pressure, people!) by saying warmly, "Thank you." And THAT is why I will remain a loyal Star Trek: Next Generation fan to the day I DIE!

Is that disconnect a survival technique on their part to get them through meeting lots of people who want a piece of whatever it is they have or we think they have? Or maybe I don't even figure on their radar of people they need to impress? Nah - can't be that! After all, I am The Picky Bitch!

Checking the "Spell Check"
YouTube: Yoruba
Hoity: Hoyt, Hort (!)
Toity: (you're gonna love this) - titty, toot, tout, tit and tot (sounds like a children's radio show in the 30's)

How much do I love YouTube?

2006-10-10T20:50:00.000+08:00

A lot (note - two words, not one).

A friend forwarded this to me and it filled my heart with so much joy, I became less picky about stuff. So people want to spell their child's name Typfpfannee - is it really my place to poke fun? So kids think it's great to use the shift key randomly and spell lIKe THiS? Kids - they do the darndest things. So waitstaff think that 'bruschetta' is pronounced "brooshetta" - who am I to correct them?*

Watch this clip and I defy you not to be moved.

*Let's not get carried away by good feeling here - I really do feel it is my place to smirk at hideous spellings of (kind of crappy) names, bitch-slap young people across the head for making an abomination of the English language and give an impromptu Italian lesson to cafe staff. That is why I am the Picky Bitch.

What I'm not that picky about...

2006-10-08T21:54:00.000+08:00

I am a movie slut. I love the movies and because of my current circumstances I don't get to go that often, so when I do, I am completely in thrall of that huge screen. I am picky about where I sit - I am a 'sit down the front'-type of person - and also, being judgmental (take note: that is how you're supposed to spell it), can dismiss a potential new friendship based entirely on their suggestion of sitting at the back or on the sides - WHO CHOOSES TO SIT ON THE SIDES??? I have had to sit there on occasion and I won't lie - those whole movie-going experiences were ruined for me. If I have to sit anywhere but where I want to (at the back of the first third of the cinema, in the middle of the row or very close to it) - I am a total brat about it. I've sat by myself down front (yes, I remember it was Moulin Rouge) rather than sit at the back with "friends" - "friends" that are as picky about sitting at the back as I am about sitting in the front. Damn them and their sitting-at-the-back ways!
So it's amazing my friends even want to go to the movies with me, right?
But what I'm not that fussy about is the movie itself. Sure, I pick them carefully, but once I'm in the theatre, I just totally fall in love with what I'm seeing. Usually. I am not that blinded that I wouldn't recognise a completely crappy film but being an optimistic picky bitch, I usually try to find some good in it. Actually that probably has more to do with my arrogance in not wanting to admit to making a bad movie choice.
Another thing I have a tendency to do is fall in love with the lead and start imagining our future together. Tonight I went to see Little Miss Sunshine - which was terrific - and I don't just think that because I was imagining being in simultaneous long-term relationships with both Greg Kinnear and Steve Carell. But it might have had something to do with it. [Where would I be stacking all these men? In the backyard, like cordwood? How would I tell my husband that Greg/Steve and I just "fell in love" and were moving in to have babies with me?? And then would Jon Stewart (who is another fantasy mate - even my husband would like to have him around the house) be jealous? Do I dare hope?]
Can you see why I would be a terrible movie critic? (Apart from the fact that I am demented?) I'd be too busy making up all this domestic bliss crap with the leading men (and dare I admit, even with some leading women - hmm- that got your attention, boys - you are pathetic).
So Little Miss Sunshine was wonderful - go see it. Just remember - they're both mine.

'Spell check' check: Kinnear - came up with 'sinner' (yeah, baby!), 'cannery', knower (as in the Biblical sense?) and 'gunnery'. Who would type 'Kinnear' and mean to type 'cannery' - are those letters even anywhere near each other? I THINK NOT!
Carell offers 'crawly', 'curlew', 'Carl', "Carlo' and 'Carla' (you can't fault the Spell Check for being racist or sexist!) and my favourite: 'cereal'. Which is pretty close when you think about it, 'cause I'd like to be in a situation where I'd be eating cereal with Steve Carell. Snaps to the Spell Check!

A funny story...

2006-10-07T14:46:00.000+08:00

Not that funny really but it backs up my thinking about layout artists and designers.

I recently had to get a poster printed for an event I'm organising and was in a bit of a hurry to get it done. Essentially, the work was laid out and set and really, all that needed to be done was to re-style it and smooth out the rough edges - I was working in MS Publisher, which is very clunky and the designer works on a Mac G3000 Turbo with an in-built cappuccino maker and a mouse that doubles as a shoulder massager.

So what comes back from the designer for my approval? A poster that is not only extremely different in 'look' (not all bad as they have access to some great graphics) but is only missing the date of the event, the time of the event, the place where the event is being held, one of the guest speakers and none of the contact details.

Hmmm.

So now I understand how designers could possibly ignore the need for correct spelling - they are too busy trying to de-nude the entire work of any useful information and so 'spell-check' probably doesn't have any use for them as there is no text left for them to check. But it looks real pretty...

Ranting Picky Bitch - over and out.

Words I find hard to spell v's words I find hard to type

2006-10-03T08:46:00.000+08:00

I must make a confession - until about 2 years ago, maybe 3, I misspelled the word 'embarrassment' - how embarrassing is that!?! I could have sworn on some-person-who-I-do-not-know's grave that there was only one 'r' in that word. 'Embarassment' - that still looks right to me - can't get my head around the fact that I, supercilious-spelling-bitch-face-that-I-am, misspelled it for eons. Well, maybe decades. I always have to check my own spelling of: liaise, conjure ( a word I totally over-used in English Literature essays and to make matters worse, spelled as 'conjer' - oh, the humanity), humorous...oh, I can't think of any others now but I know they're out there.

On the other hand, there are words that I just can't type without making a mistake: my own name, for Pete's sake - I must have to retype my name 9 times out of 10 - I always reverse a couple of the letters. And for the life of me: October - I cannot type that word without having made at least three attempts. And as it is October now, I'm right in the thick of retyping hell.

Roll on November.

Keeping it all in perspective

2006-10-01T12:16:00.000+08:00

I do get a little steamed when I see misspellings on menus, notices, posters, TV advertisements - some would say that's an understatement and that I go on a full-blown rant - I would tend to agree with them, actually. Judgmentally, I perceive it as laziness or at least carelessness. I suppose I put a lot on having standards and I get disappointed, more than anything when I see spelling mistakes - is that pathetic?

When I see a misspelling, my thoughts do not turn to the original writer of the piece but with the layout artist or type-setter or sub-editor - do these people not realise there's a reasonably nifty feature - in direct contrast to that piece of crap paper-clip thing - on most word processing packages called SPELL CHECK ? Seriously, when I saw the word 'brief' spelled as 'breif' on a TELEVISION COMMERCIAL, I needed a little lie-down.

It's TV, people! Lots of people watch it.

Lots of little kids studying for spelling tests (do they still even have spelling tests anymore? - that could explain a lot) while watching television (don't tell me you never did homework in front of the box, because I would be calling you a Mr/Ms Pants on Fire), boning up on the whole 'i before e' thing would be totally confused by that stupid ad.

USE THE SPELL CHECK !

Of course, I am going to be totally humiliated if I get caught on this blog misspelling a word.

To keep it in perspective, I realise that there are bigger things in this world to worry about: the environment, world hunger, raising my kids to be decent human beings (and good spellers!). It won't all fall down on a misplaced vowel. But in my own way, I see the beauty of language as a hold-out against a lot of other ugliness.

Thus endeth the lesson.

(Hey - I just used 'spell check' and it identified 'blog' as a misspelled word - oh, the irony! It offers up: bloc, Bloch, blows, bloke, bolos, blouse and blocky as alternatives - Bloc, I can understand, but BLOUSE? BLOCKY?? BOLOS???)

Time for a disclaimer

2006-10-01T07:34:00.000+08:00

Before we get too excited here, I want to specify that although I abhor bad spelling, I am a bit of a punctuation slut. I overuse parentheses, em-dashes, am not too sure about the use of semi-colons and will do the whole '...'-thing to death.

I am human, people.

Just so we're clear.

Oh my - I've found my True Love

2006-10-01T07:20:00.000+08:00

Barely is this blog 15 minutes old and I've already found others of 'my kind'.

I love you all.

I found this on pshaw.org and like Kat, don't know who to thank for it. But if you see it, come and claim credit and be embraced by another like-minded individual.

Welcome to my world

2006-10-01T06:55:00.000+08:00

You know - in this day and age of mobile phones and instant messaging, I like to think that there is someone out there not taken in by 'LOL' and 'hELlo'. Someone who still believes that that the word connoting gratitude is not spelled 'thx', 'thanx' or 'fanx'. Someone who knows that there are only two 'p's in 'cappuccino'.

I like to believe that.

I believe that that person is me.

Welcome to my world. I will split an infinitive but never cave and spell 'tomorrow' - '2morrow' (except right now to prove my point and only then).