Vanessa is…

 

The utterly glorious Mister Peace tagged me inadvertantly with his “google images” meme.

 

What is this, you ask?

 

Here are the rules:

1) Go to www.Google.com

2) Click on Google images

3) Type in your name and search

4) Repost (w/ a link) the picture of the oddest, craziest, strangest, coolest, oldest, etc. person that shares your name. Post multiples if you find a few you like. (See Below)

5) Pass it on to at least 5 other people.

 

As is my way, I don’t do tags by halves. I find them oddly inspiring. Probably because it’s a chance to wax lyrical about myself to my heart’s content.

So, here we have it.

I’ve always liked my name. Nay, loved my name. Not many people say that about their own name… but I suppose I can credit my parents for having immaculate taste. Mind you, I was almost called Miranda, which is also a lovely name, but my grandmother protested loudly, and I became Vanessa.

I have been told most often throughout my life, is that my name means, “butterfly”.

So, it’s quite understandable that for a long time, I believed that I was some kind of enigmatic butterfly, until I discovered that the name Vanessa, is just the name for a genus of butterly, like these:

I am all of these butterflys, and if that means that my name “means” butterfly, how could I complain? Butterflys are the epitome of delicacy and beauty…

Of course, that also makes me pupa and caterpillar, which strangely thrills me just as much, if not more…

I delved further.

 

Apparently, I am also shoes, which would please me no end if I had a shoe fetish, but then again maybe not, because you’ve got to admit, they’re not very spectaclar shoes…

 

It turns out, I am also a doll. A hot doll, no less. I am ever so pleased.

 

And some beautiful blooms. I can’t think of prettier flowers to carry my name….

 

 

This painting is called “Vanessa”, by Guy Morand. Does this make me his muse by default…?

 

I am also fluffy white cats. Only. No other colour need apply. Apparently.

 

Hey, I’m a computerised chess game! Which is pretty cool. I haven’t played chess since before my grandfather died when I was 9. Nobody has agreed to played with me since. I can’t help but wonder if there is a reason for that…?

 

Girlfriend! I’m a drag queen. Fabulous, darling! (you know it had to be a big photo with that outfit…)

 

And, as is the contrary nature of my being, I am also a strange piece of machinery related to the rotary process, whatever that is….

 

 

A somewhat groovy chair? It works for me. I do work with furniture, after all…

 

I am also Johnny Depp’s gorgeous, French pseudo ex-popstar girlfriend/partner/wife. Go, me!

 

And facial cleanser. I wonder if I could snag an endorsement?

 

 

Ships. Can you believe that all these ships are called “Vanessa”? Me neither. I like it. I love ships. And boats. Water is my element, all over. I dig it.

 

 

 

This one pleases me more than most. I love aeroplanes. A biplane called “Vanessa”. How many people can boast that? I wonder who inspired it?

 

 

But, I think above all, I will always remain a pygmy goat.

 

What is in your name?

 

(Don’t) Follow the rules, people… ;)

 

Tag yourself.

 

 

 

Song of the Day – Turin Brakes – Forever

 

 

 

Those Crazy Scandinavians…

I wasn’t going to post another blog until tomorrow night, but I just came across this little gem and if I don’t share it with you right this minute, I couldn’t live with myself for depriving you of such a stellar slice of cheese.

It’s a Finnish cover of The Village People’s “YMCA”, by ’70s rokk ikkons Gregorious. Remember them?

No, me neither, but I hear they were HUGE in Finland.

I don’t care what anyone says, any video featuring scoop shorts, tube socks and an electric organ has to be good.

This video makes me happy.

Just watch. You won’t regret it:

And if you can’t get enough of those wonderful Finns and their cutting-edge choreography and fashion sense, CLICK HERE.

I am booking a holiday to Finland tomorrow. Anyone care to join me?

Ok, I’m taking my poor, sleep deprived self off to bed. I will endeavour to be back tomorrow, to begin posting the seemingly endless backlog of photo blogs I have pending… oyy…

Via Boing Boing

Song Of The Day – The Sex Pistols – Silly Thing

I Bin Crushin’…

Modobs wants to know which celebrity I’d spend time with on a desert island.

It’s a new tag. Woohoo!

Although, there is a really big part of me that just really doesn’t want to go there.

Why, you ask?

Well, I’ve been known to have odd taste in men. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I prefer to think of myself as umm… eclectic? I really don’t have a “type”. People appeal to me for different reasons, and it’s more often than not, it’s some kind of talent or cerebral connection that makes me all hot and bothered. I also change crushes almost as often as I change my underwear – which is quite often, I’m sure you’re pleased to know.

I sometimes also fancy people that even I wouldn’t expect.

Take Criss Angel, for example.

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I said I don’t have a type, but if I did, he doesn’t fit it. He’s showy, he wears tacky jewellery and his contrived “too cool for school” image would normally be enough to turn me off quite spectacularly. Not to mention that unintentionally hilarious theme song for his show. Did nobody have the guts to tell him that he can’t sing? That said, I still get it stuck in my head for days on end…

However.

The guy is fucking sexy. His show has been on repeating on late night TV for the last few weeks here and I’m hooked.

He’s like Houdini on crack.

Almost everything he does is an illusion, but dang it’s impressive. He’s a master of sleight of hand and his stunts are insane. Everything from having a Humvee drive onto his chest whilst lying on a bed of spikes, to purposely getting struck by lightning and trying to blow himself up with dynamite.

He likes to push the boundaries, and that to me, is sexy. He can conjure me up some coconuts any time.

Here is Criss being hit by a car at high speed. As you do.

… and here’s one of his many tricks he perfoms on the unsuspecting public in the street. Almonds and plums into cockroaches, yum!

Looking for photos of him tonight, I noticed that he has a really bad haircut now. I might not like him anymore.

:D

My other crush of the moment is Verka Serduchka.

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No modobs, I’m not kidding.. hah!

Verka Serduchka is a comedic character, and could best be described as Ukraine’s answer to Dame Edna Everage.

Verka came second (representing Ukraine) in this year’s Eurovision Song Contest. He/she was the hot favourite to win, but was tragically pipped at the post by that mob from Serbia… [sob]

Before the Eurovision final, Jules sent me a video of Verka’s entry in the competition, Dancing Lasha Tumbai and I was transfixed. I think you either love her or hate him/her. If nothing else, you have to laugh. This song just makes me so very happy…

So, I have a crush on a drag queen (who is by all reports not gay… so that’s something in my favour), and imagine my joy when I discovered that the man under the sparkly headwear is so dashingly handsome, I want to have his babies. Immediately.

andriy_danylko.jpg

The only photo of him on the internet – and it’s not even a good one.

Watch this instead. It’s a rather clever video featuring a duet and tango between Verka and her alter ego (see above), Andrey Danilko, who is a rather talented composer apart from Verka.  He really is rather gorgeous…

So. As a result of this year’s Eurovision, I now have a rather obnoxious fetish for eastern European accents and cheesy Europop novelty songs. I think I need help. Especially since just this week I purchased 3 cd’s by Verka Serduchka on Ebay (AU$40 for the three including postage – bargain!) from someone in the Ukraine. The cd’s don’t even have english lettering on them. It’s all in that crazy Ukranian/Russian chirography.

[sigh]

I am a poor, lost soul…

So there you go modobs. Are you happy now I have revealed my ridiculous taste in men to the entire interweb? Then again, it could be worse… I could have picked Julian MacMahon… Teehee!

Ok, I think I’m supposed to tag some people: JulesJenniferStilettoMister PeaceRichardQelqoth.

Ok, happy end.

Song Of The Day – Siouxsie and the Banshees – Cities in Dust

Far Too Random For A Cohesive Title

Woah.

My eyes are going crosseyed and my shoulders are super tense from typing.

Typing what, you ask?

I finally came to realise yesterday, what a bloody good thing is flickr.

I’ve had an account for a while, but haven’t really used it until now. I was having a poke around the site and was impressed with the easy and logical methods as to which you can organise your photos. Also, they’re stored online whether you pay your bill or not. This is heartening and to me, a lot more comforting than my non-existant dodgy backup methods.

I also realised pretty quickly that the free account wasn’t going to cut it for the volume of photographs I keep on my computer. I upgraded to the Pro account and since yesterday, I’ve uploaded, labeled and categorised 350 photographs… and I’ve barely touched the surface.

Tonight I was uploading photos from a trip to Sydney last year, and I noticed something strange. Literally as my photographs were being uploaded, people were looking at them. Freaky. The more I uploaded, the more the individual photo view count increased, within seconds of uploading.

I’m bloody glad they you can adjust the settings for who can view what, although I have to admit I did get a bit of a thrill from people actually being interested in my boring holiday photos, heh.

I was given the gift of Photoshop a couple of weeks ago, and it’s got me all gooey about taking photos again. Although, what I’ve been uploading to flickr, is mostly archival to this point. Check out my page if you’re having trouble sleeping, heh.

It’s 3am and I’m done with flickr for today.

In lieu of something more interesting, here are some photos I took of a truck that rolled over on the Mitchell Freeway recently. I thought it was pretty exciting….

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As you can see, emergency services were out in force. It made a big bloody mess. Thankfully nobody was hurt.

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Yes, I am taking photos and driving on the freeway at the same time. Don’t ty this at home, kids.

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It’s around this time that I’m feeling rather smug for driving north at the right time. Those people would have been stuck there for hours. And I mean, hours. The jam went on for miles, too.

Other than that, I’ve not energy for much although I’m feeling quite spiffy from a few glasses of the ol’ strawberry champagne….

Here is a list of music I joyfully downloaded on the weekend:

Emilie Simon – Ice Girl
Emilie Simon – Femme FataleEmilie Simon – Je N’Veux Pas Rester Sage
Emilie Simon – Fleur de Saison
Emilie Simon – Le Desert
Emilie Simon – All Is White
Emilie Simon – Flowers
Marvin Gaye – Praise
The Jam – The Butterfly Collector
The Jackson Five – Looking Through The Windows
Pulp – Cocaine Socialism
Brian Eno – Another Green World
Curtis Mayfield – Trippin’ Out
Gang of Four – To Hell With Poverty!
The Verve – On Your Own
Geordie – All Because Of You
Dusty Springfield – How Can I Be Sure?
Dusty Springfield – Wishin’ and Hopin’
Nick Drake – Tow The Line
Charlotte Gainsbourg – L’un Part L’Autre Reste
Charlotte Gainsbourg – Little Monsters
Charlotte Gainsbourg - The Songs That We Sing
Charlotte Gainsbourg – Morning Song
Coldplay – Bigger Stronger
The Osmonds – One Bad Apple
Lulu – The Man Who Sold The World
Jona Lewie – You’ll Always Find Me In The Kitchen At Parties
Chris Spedding – Motor Bikin’
Phoenix – Long Distance Call
Phoenix – Run Run Run
Phoenix – Too Young
Phoenix – If I Ever Feel Better
Arctic Monkeys – Bigger Boys And Stolen Sweethearts
All Saints - Black Coffee
Joy Division – Dead Souls
Nick Lowe – Cruel To Be Kind
Dave Edmunds – Girls Talk
Talking Heads – Crosseyed And Painless
Talking Heads – Radio Head
Outkast – Two Dope Boyz (In A Cadillac)
Kings Of Convenience – I’d Rather Dance With You
Kings Of Convenience – Misread
Kings Of Convenience – The Weight Of My Words (Four Tet Instrumental Remix)
Heaven 17 - Let Me Go
ABBA – The Day Before You Came
Razorlight – Before I Fall To Pieces
Razorlight – America
Razorlight – Golden Touch
Razorlight - Stumble And Fall
Anita O’Day & Gene Krupa – Side By Side
Time Bandits – Endless Road
The Finn Brothers – Won’t Give In
Britney Spears – Breathe On Me (Jacques Lu Conts Thin White Duke Mix)
The Toys – A Lover’s Concerto
Air - How Does It Make You Feel?
Air – Alpha Beta Gaga
Air – Surfin’ On A Rock
Johnny Wakelin - In Zaire
Gorillaz – Ghost Train
Judy Street – What

Music makes me happy. You may have guessed.


Song Of The Day – Talking Heads – Crosseyed And Painless

Vibrator = Hysterically, No Hysteria…

 

I’ve had an awful week. It did get better and yes, I am going to talk about sex toys, but first I’m going to have a little whinge. So, nerr.

It was so very awful at the beginning of the week that the pose I adopted for the whole of Monday was somewhat reminiscent of Cameron in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”, after he crashes the Ferarri; lying prone on the couch under a blanket with my eyes closed.

What was wrong? Oh, nothing I’d want to bore you with. Things were either going wrong, had gone wrong or were (in my mind) about to go wrong. You know how it is.

Interpersonal strife does my head in.

I also thought my cat had cancer. On Sunday night I discovered a huge lump that appeared to be growing out of his ribcage. I was (internally) quite beside myself. I love my cat. On Monday I took him to the vet:

“Who do we have here?”

“This is Bilbo”

“Hello Bilbo. My, aren’t you a big boy? What seems to be wrong with Bilbo?”

“He has a big lump on his chest. It’s really big. It’s internal, not on his skin”

“Ok, let’s have a look, shall we? Where is it exactly?”

[points]

“Here.”

“That’s his sternum.”

“Oh.”

[barely concealed smirk from the vet type person]

“I can still take an x-ray if you like.”

“Um, no thanks. I’ll be going now…”

So, there we have the latest addition to Vanessa’s Omnibus of Embarrassing Moments. I mean, I might as well have gone to the doctor and said “I’ve got a lump growing out of my foot”, to be told, “That’s your toe.”

Well, on the bright side, my cat doesn’t have cancer. Big huggles to Firm, who has not been so fortunate this week… :(

Today, I feel pretty good. Everything is sorted and working well. Nobody is pissed off with anybody anymore and all is well in the world. Amazing how things can turn around.

So, as is my wont, I celebrated with a bit of retail therapy.

And what did I buy?

Vibrators.

Plural.

I thought it was time I updated my collection. One of my old favourites (a bullet for those playing at home – mine was the blue one) died recently and it was definitely time to find a replacement. I didn’t want to buy another bullet, because I had, at times, found it a little difficult to keep hold of, as many women who have owned one may understand. Something with a bit more of a handle was in order.

I usually buy such implements in person at a chain of adult stores here in the city. They are staffed by women and everytime I shop there, I end up having a blast with the girl behind the counter. Vibrators, boxes and batteries strewn everywhere, because they don’t at all mind removing items from their packaging and handing them to you for a test run. Hah! I’m not kidding, although the testing tends to be more on the fingers and tip of the nose than anywhere else. I also think it’s quite fun to observe the men skulking around the dvd section, obviously quite intimidated by two women talking quite openly about their preferences in regards to the inclusion of pearls in a vibrator, or which stimulator provides more bang for your buck…

This time, for something different, I decided to surf the range of Australian adult stores online. It took me an entire evening and I almost gave up at one point because the range was so enormous I just about ran out of steam, until I noticed at one particular site that there were…. free gifts! Woohoo! I ended up buying not one, but three vibrators… and the free gift makes four. Go me!

I guess the free gift kind of makes up for the fact that my package didn’t arrive today. Which means that I have to wait until after the weekend. Which kinda sucks because I was going to take an abstract photo of my purchases to show you. So much for Overnight Express. Oh, well. Use your imagination. ;)

So, whilst we’re on the subject, I thought I’d give a quick dissertation on the history of the vibrator. I’m sure most of you know that they’ve been around for a very, very long time and were orignally used to treat what was known as “Hysteria” in women. That is, sexual arousal and PMS (often go hand in hand – at least they do for me).

I saw a great little Australian doco on SBS a couple of weeks ago called Turn Me On: The History Of The Vibrator. You can watch it for yourself by clicking on the link – it’s only 17 minutes long, (I’m really taken with the music they used for the soundtrack, heh), but if you can’t be bothered watching it, I’ll relay a few interesting facts I gleaned from this short, yet very informative documentary.

  • The Hysterical Paroxysm – better known now as the orgasm, was the temporary cure, or preferred outcome of the disease called Hysteria, which was caused by sexual deprivation in passionate women. Nun’s seemed to suffer from it a lot… And they talk about blue balls! In 200AD, it was recommended by the ancient Greek physcian Galen that massaging the genitals be used as a treatment for Hysteria. This was a strictly medical condition.
  • Doctors only, were qualified to “treat” Hysteria until the early 20th century. Women were not to treat themselves, as masturbation was considered evil. Sex was solely considered to be penile penetration of a woman, by a man.
  • Vibration was considered very useful to create the “Paroxysm” by the medical profession. Before electricity, doctors used enormous steam powered vibrators, pedal driven models (terribly tiring for the poor fellow), then came the handle powered models, which looked disturbingly like a manual drill.

This is one version that is not so much like a drill…, but still what a chore!
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Those poor doctors…

Here is an air compressed model from the late 19th century:
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Interesting attachments, no? Already looking vaguely familiar, yet still horribly speculum-like…

  • The invent of the electric vibrator was a boon for doctors. They were overjoyed. If a doctor had an electronic vibrator, they could have women in and out of the surgery within about 10 minutes, thereby quadrupling their profit margin. It was a revolving door situation with women you see, because they were never able to be cured, due to the nature of the “disease”…

Here is a 1906 version of an electric vibrator. It’s not the famous Veedee vibrator, which bore a frightening resemblance to a circular sander, but it still has that drill appeal:
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A bit bloody scary looking if you ask me…. Anyone up for a good drilling? Or a Paroxysm, perhaps?

  • Advertisements for all these apparatus appeared in women’s magazines all over the world. Needlework magazines, journals, you name it. Doctors were treating women for Hysteria up until the 1920’s. It wasn’t until the 1950’s that Hysteria was written out of medical journals as being an official “disease”.

Here is an early battery operated vibrator, circa 1950’s (minus the various attachments). Of course it was marketed to smooth out those pesky facial wrinkles…
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

  • During the documentary, an interesting modern-day observation was added by a middle-aged male gynaecologist: “A woman who has never climaxed is extremely unlikely to climax with anything but a proper vibrator.” Personally, I wouldn’t know, but it seems likely in many cases. I found my way to it in my mid-teens…

Are you vibrated beyond all recognition now? I would be if I were you. If it took you .001% of the time to read it as it took me to put this together, I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to lay eyes on another vibrator….. Bloody fiddly blogs.

‘Ave a bonza weekend, my sweet things… and indulge yourself, if you will…

Thanks to Vibrator Museum for the photos…

Oh, and happy first day of winter to my fellow southern hemisphere dwellers…:)

 

Song Of The Day – Frank Zappa – Dynamo Hum

Vinyl Beauties 2

I love vinyl.

I have loads of it. So much that it’s becoming a bit of a problem, because I move house so often… but I can’t seem to part with any of my records.

More about that here:

Vinyl Beauties – Part 1

And here is Part Deux. Not before time, I know. I’ve gathered such a huge collection of dodgy album covers online, that it may take me a year to post them all….

Yay!

I chose these ones at random.  I closed my eyes and clicked.

First off the block we have:


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Is her neck broken? Or perhaps her back?

I’ve been doing aerobics on and off for 20 years and I can quite safely say that this particular move has never been part of any routine I’ve followed. In fact, I used to throw my head around like that when I was dancing in my misspent youth, and all the favours it did me, was ongoing neck and back problems. I wonder how she’s doing these days..?

Is my interpretation of digital timing wrong, or is that a 20 second workout? Ah, 20 minutes. Oh, well… if I’d end up with a body like hers, I might just try it…

It was seen on TV, after all…

space-people.jpg

Astronauts in gaily coloured suits and multicoloured women from outer space (those curly antennae never work well, in my experence). Apparently they’re thrilling the ladies with gifts. What those gifts are, are anyone’s guess. I think they’re cocktails…? In brandy balloons. Hey, brandy is brown, man! I hate being misrepresented, don’t you?

I’m always up for an escapade, though. Especially in space.

I bags being the pink lady…

jim-hogg.jpg

Nice to be with you too, Jim. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?

Smug bastard.

omega.jpg

Their name is Omega, in case you didn’t get it from the prominently placed symbol. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, because it wasn’t the first thing I noticed…

I think they guy with the blond frizz and I have the same hairdresser….

Is the guy on the right wearing a frock? It’s all very odd. They must be Scandinavian.

milsteingrow.jpg

Just because I’ve been so active in my garden this week, I had to choose this one (the only one I actually chose). I always play music whist I’m pottering amongst the living things, but I hadn’t considered playing them Dr George’s music when I’m not around. Maybe that’s why my snow peas died overnight?

Does the fact he is a doctor, have any bearing on his horticultural skills? Maybe he’s a Doctor of Wilting Indoor Plants…

Arright. That’s it for another episode, my lovelies.

Feel free to make your own interpretations…

Song Of The Day – Scott Matthews – Elusive

Ready, Set, EUROVISION!

Pop the champagne and fire up the popcorn maker…. it’s Eurovision!

A high-camp feast of musical mayhem and predictable political prejudices and persuasions. A boon for the bookmakers. An excuse for the European pop music community to drink copious amounts of alcohol and rub uglies. An opportunity for European dancers to grin maniacally and display their interpretive dancing skills. A chance for European set designers to let their penchant for garish colours and flashing lights run free. A night for female performers to wear costumes so brief and wispy so as to get a chill in their kidneys.

Not familiar with the Eurovision Song Contest? Abba had their big break when they won it back in the 70’s with their ostentasiously costumed rendition of ‘Waterloo’.

It is the highlight of my television viewing year. Better even, than the AFL Grand Final. 3 1/2 hours of laugh-til-your-cheeks-hurt, cringe-worthy bliss. This show is FUNNY. F.U.N.N.Y. Thanks, in large part to the wonderful commentary of British tv/radio icon Terry Wogan. Sardonic, dry, and very, very witty with his lovely lilting Irish accent. He ought to be good. He’s been commentating Eurovision for nearly 40 years…

ixsvwogan317.jpg

Every year, Eurovision unintentionally takes on a different theme. Most years at least 90% of the songs feature something in common. Last year just about every person on stage was wearing white. This year, was the year of gothic overtones and pyrotechnics, thanks to the stylings of last year’s winners, Lordi from Finland.

This is the video of Lordi’s winning performace from last year. So much fun. Watch. You won’t regret it. Hard Rock Hallelujah! [how they don't all go up in flames towards the end, is still quite beyond me...]

Eurovision is watched by over 600 million people worldwide and has a cult following in Australia. We don’t take part in it, for obvious reasons, so we have no vested interest, but the people of Europe take it all terribly seriously, which is funny in itself. We just sit and laugh our boxes off at the supreme kitschness of it all and Sir Wogan’s witticisms.

There are heats and semi-finals in every country that takes part; it goes on and on for months, but the Grand Prix de Europe (er, Grand Final), is open to only 24 countries. The format of the show runs in two parts. First, all 24 countries perform their respective and universally puke-worthy songs. Second half of the programme is the vote. We’ll get to that part.

First, I’ll share some stills of a few choice acts chosen to represent their respective countries:

BULGARIA

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It’s the Bulgarian Sheila E and the Mulletman. Ok, his name isn’t really Mulletman, but he does have rather spectacular hair. It’s all about percussion…

UNITED KINGDOM

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Honestly. CAN they be serious? Just look at them. This lot make Bucks Fizz look like The Beatles. The UK are given a free pass to the Eurovision final every year, along with Germany, France and Spain. Their entries are almost universally TERRIBLE. The thing that concerns me most, is that the songs selected to represent each country are chosen by the general public… I thought Morrissey was supposed to get a gander this year? What happened?!

GERMANY

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Last year, Germany did a Country & Western song, complete with cowboy outfits. This year the flavour was Big Band Swing. In German. How very…. Brecht. Not.

BELARUS

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A chintzy pseudo rock song of the highest order, sung by a young man bearing an uncanny resemblance to Princess Diana. Complete with chorus:

Work your magic

You set my beating heart in motion

Will you cast your loving potion

Over me

I rest my case.

GEORGIA

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Georgia’s first ever Eurovision Grand Final appearance. It wasn’t half bad, either, if not a bit strange to look at. A couple of energetic, spinning Cossacks waving swords about and a pretty woman in a red dress, singing a kind of electro-goth anthem. I guess you had to be there….

MOLDOVA

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This is probably best illustrated by Terry Wogan’s introduction:

“There’s a lot of impetuous head-shaking and scarf-waving, and it’s the outfit of the evening, lads, from Natalia. Altogether now, when she’s finished playing the fiddle, I want you to shout….”PULL UP YOUR TROUSERS!!”"

Then, when the song was over:

“We can only hope her mother wasn’t watching that.. [chuckles]. That was quite frightening…”

FORMER YUGOSLAV REPUBLIC OF MACEDONIA

eurovision_00008.jpg

Aren’t you glad you don’t live there? It would take you ten years just to say where you lived. I include this young lady, because she had the longest legs and shortest skirt of the evening, by a long shot. There was even a fairly decent shot of her arse at one point, which thrilled my husband no end. Gotta love those Eurobabes.

HUNGARY

eurovision_00009.jpg

Hungary sings the blues. Maybe they are hung(a)ry? Ok, that was possibly the lamest joke ever uttered, even in the name of Eurovision., but that’s what it does to you. I swear.

Did I mention how wonderful this all looked on the 42″ inch Plasma? Fan-bloody-tastic.

The second half of the show is made up of the voting process, where they cross to 42 separate countries by satellite link to have a short chat and get the results of the telephone votes from the public, via some local tv celebrity. You’d think it would be quite torturous, but it’s actually very amusing. Partly because so many of the votes are so utterly predictable with neighbouring countries and political allies voting for each other, often with complete disregard to the quality of the act they’re voting for. Croatia gives top votes to Bosnia & Herzogovina and vice versa, Iceland votes for Finland, Moldova votes for Romania, Belarus for Russia, Cyprus for Greece… you get the picture. There was an even more apparent voting block going on this year between the Eastern European countries, not helped that there were two new additions to the fray.

Despite the bias and the accompanying tutting and pffting, it all seems to work out in the end.

What really tickles me is that the poor old UK, France and Germany really don’t have any friends to give them the big points, so they just pick up the odd stray vote along the way. Everybody say “awwwwwww”, heh.

SERBIA

This year, Serbia came out on top, by a fairly decent margin with a heart wrenching power ballad to rival all power ballads, sung by a bunch of women in drag, looking like refugees from the island of Lesbos who all seem to have had a nasty accident with the same curling iron:

UKRAINE

… but this is who should have won! If you only watch one of these videos, make it Verka! Hilarious! I’m in love. I want to have his babies. It’s taken me so long to put this blog up because I’ve spent most of the week so far watching Verka videos on YouTube. Best Eurovision song, EVER. It even gives Lordi a run for their money…. WATCH IT. I dare you! [titter]

Only in Europe, could millions of people vote a bunch of women in drag, and a cross dressing man into first and second place in such a political minefield of a song contest. I love it.

So, that pretty much wraps up Eurovision for another year. There were more videos I wanted to include, and if you want to see more, there are loads of great, chuckle-worthy performances on YouTube.

Serbia – 268

Ireland – 5

Oh, stuff it. Here’s one more. This is Switzerland’s entry which didn’t make it past the Semi Final, even though it was tipped as a hot favourite. It cracks me up. The artist is DJ Bobo (which is funny in itself), and the song is…. well, quite surreal. ‘Vampires Are Alive”. Just see it for yourself. Personally I’m quite fond of the shop mannequins in the background.

If you still can’t get enough, check out this blog here. It’s a cracker and it was written by an American who has never felt the sheer elation that a Eurovision final can bring, yet still manages to intrinsically appreciate the supreme cheesiness of it all.  ;)

Song Of The Day – Verka Serduchka – Dancing Lasha Tumbai

Flash Cube Flashback!

I found this Kodak commercial from the 60’s. It thrills me.

It’s new! It’s now! It’s Flash Cube!

Help me…. I can’t stop go-go dancing…

Does anyone else remember flash cubes, or am I really starting to show my age? I was a child of the ’70’s and my first camera predated me, but I have very clear memories of those little cubes. You only got 4 flashes per cube…

Whatever you do, don’t blink!

This was my first camera:

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No frills, circa 1968-’73 with no built-in flash. It had a manual wind-on mechanism and I distinctly remember the resounding “click” when you pressed the shutter and the torturous process of winding back the film at the end of a roll. I used to think I was pretty special because my camera had two different settings for if it was sunny or overcast, as you can see in the picture above, just above the lens. It took crappy pictures, but I didn’t care. I took it everywhere with me. Nice to see nothing has changed in that regard…

Ohh, look! I found a picture of me with my trusty Instamatic 33:

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I still have the photos I took that day, which would illustrate beautifully the quality (or lack thereof) of the prints, but I couldn’t be arsed going through 30 boxes to find them. I think I still have the camera somewhere, too….

I am such a hoarder.

Song Of The Day – Cream – Tales Of Brave Ulysses

That dog is trying to tell you something…

When I was 18, I lived in a 3 bedroom house in Brookman Street, Northbridge. Brookman Street was the most notorious residential street in the city, and Northbridge is where it all happens. Clubs, drugs, Asian gangs… and some rather nice restaurants. A colourful place.

I had some new housemates, after my previous housemates moved out under rather nasty circumstances.

I loved my new housemates, Troy and Michael.

Troy was an old school friend of mine, who had lived over the road from me for a couple of years during highschool. We got up to all kinds of hijinks together, but that was a few years gone by this time. Troy was into the Northbridge clubbing ’scene’. Still adorable in that ‘Troy’ way, but quite vain and into being seen and being ’scene’.

Michael was a sweetheart. He was quite effeminate, cute as hell, and never had a bad word to say about anyone, except when he did.

Troy and Michael were very different to me in many ways. I was a bit of a flower child in those days, but not at all unwise to the ways of the world. They were into clubbing, dance music and all that went along with that.

I’d left all my friends behind in Fremantle to move up to Perth (about a 40 minute drive or so). Perth was a very different scene to Freo, which had a much more laid back vibe. I hung out with my new housemates and their friends a lot because none of my friends had the means to get to me anymore without a long drive or an even longer public transport route. Troy and Michael’s friend’s loved me. I was like nobody they’d ever met. I surprised them and made them laugh, in a good way. Hmmm. I seem to have that effect on people… Maybe there’s another story (or 6) in that…

We had some good times.

One night, Troy, Michael and I were sitting around the kitchen table, examining a couple of very large marijuana plants that had been pulled up that day and given to us by a friend of Troy’s. Lovely big plants. Complete with roots and dirt, wrapped up in newspaper.

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We had a little smoke and agreed that all was well in the world.

Quite suddenly, the dog started barking it’s head off.

We heard car doors, but didn’t think much of it. It was a one-way, inner city street, renowned for it’s bohemian inhabitants. At least two drug dealers lived in the street, so there was a lot of coming and going. No big deal.

We had another bong each, then started stripping the leaves and heads from the plants.

There was a knock at the door.

The dog was still barking, but I chose to ignore it, because it was a stupid dog. I say that with authority, because I’d lived with this particular dog for a couple of years by this stage and I was well qualified to say that Lettie the dog, was really quite dumb.

Troy thought he ought to investigate. The kitchen was at the rear of our little semi-detached house…

On the way to the front door, he placed the bong on top of the fridge next to the phone.

Michael and I sat in silence, straining our ears to hear what was going on. Troy was talking to someone.

I looked at Michael. He looked back at me, quizically. We waited and listened some more.

It wasn’t at all clear what was going on, but we figured it was just a neighbour or a friend. However, Troy was taking a while, and just in case, we placed a couple of sheets of newspaper over the rather large plants (with dirt, roots and leaves sticking out everywhere) on the table.

Troy reappeared. Behind him was a man. A man we’d never met nor seen before.

He introduced himself.

“Hi. I’m Senior Constable Mike Wilson. I’ve just caught a kid in a stolen car outside your house. Is it okay if I use your phone?”

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Troy was standing with a fixed grin on his face. Michael and I tried in vain to lean over the evidence. The evidence that he would have to be legally blind to miss. It was a large table.

We didn’t do a good job of covering up. Not at all.

We were shitting ourselves, collectively. All the time, Troy was grounded to the spot with a look on his face of sheer, grinning horror.

The cop wanted to use the phone. The phone was mounted on the wall right next to the fridge.

On top of the fridge, right on the edge closest to him was that dirty old bong.

Michael stared at the sink, anywhere but where the blinding evidence was…

Senior Constable Mike Wilson called in for backup, or whatever the hell he needed our phone for. I don’t think any of us were listening. His partner was outside with the car theif in cuffs on the ground.

Thinking back, I’m not sure why they needed to use our phone… Don’t even “plain car” cops have a CB radio or something of the like?

The bong was at head height, about 4 inches from his face. He was standing directly in front of the table overflowing with fresh cannabis debris. The newspaper covering it was levitating.

It was a long few minutes. One of the longest few minutes of our lives, to that point.

Eventually Senior Constable Mike Wilson hung up the phone.

He thanked us, kindly.

And left.

He left.

HE LEFT.

We stared at each other, wide eyed. Followed by a collective chorus of “FUUUUUCKKK!!!!”

Followed by much laughter. Disbelieving laughter.

We’d got away with it.

Of all people to walk into our house at that moment, it was a cop wanting to use the phone.

I guess he had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

I think I underestimated that dog…

Song Of The Day – Iggy Pop – Bored

 

Blog Paste (spread it around)

I interrupt this broadcast for a community service annoucement:

I’ve been surfing around the blog-o-sphere in an expansive fashion of late, and have come across a lot of links to various blog directories. Some of them are networking sites where you add people as contacts or join their communities, i.e My BlogLog, SpicyPage, or BlogCatalogue. Others are sites where you register your blog in certain categories, and others again have a voting/ranking system (which doesn’t particularly interest me…).

I also recieved a message on SpicyPage yesterday from blog owner who is conducting a Technorati Favourites Exchange Experiment which may be of interest to some of you.

Also, the lovely Meg is a jolly good resource for linking together and promoting Australian bloggers (not enough of us around, mate… fair dinkum ;) ).

After joining a bunch of sites over the last few days, my blog views have jumped considerably (coinciding nicely with my blog about Colonoscopys, hah!) and I can see on my Stats page that readers are coming from almost all these new directories I’ve joined. This of course, is a good thing, even though I’ve never been much one for networking or self promotion. I may have signed up for these directories, but other than that I don’t go out of my way to get hits on my blog. I would rather have readers that I have a connection with, than 1000 people randomly clicking on my page in a day, and not taking in a word. I suppose you have to find regular readers some way, though. I mean, that’s the reason for posting a public blog, isn’t it? So people will read what you’ve written…

So, if you’re interested in gaining more exposure for your own posts, whilst having access to more blogs on more topics than you could poke a stick at, I recommend that you check out some of the buttons at the bottom of my right hand sidebar.

Or…

If none of this means anything to you and you’d rather stick a fork in your eye, than bother with all that stuff about stats, traffic and readership, here is a picture of two women doing something very strange:

What exactly that is, I do not know….

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Song Of The Day – Wall Of Voodoo – Far Side Of Crazy

Yacht Rock #4

Greetings, groovers…

Yes, it’s that time again.

Time to pull on your deck shoes for another episode of Yacht Rock.

In this week’s episode, ‘Rosanna’, the following questions are posed, or answered (or not):

  1. Will Michael McDonald save himself from becoming an irrelevant joke? Or will someone do it for him, in the name of “chakra alignment”?
  2. Did I just see Christopher Cross’ head explode?
  3. Why did Steve Perry run away?

I just can’t get enough of those smooth montages…

Yacht Rock #1 – “What a Fool Believes”
Yacht Rock #2 – “Keep The Fire”
Yacht Rock #3 – “I’m Alright”

Yacht Rock online

Coming in episode 5: Michael and Kenny reunited? Could it be? What part might Michael Jackson and Vincent Price play in this miracle….?

Song Of The Day – Toto – Hold The Line

Diary Of An Anal Probee

Disclaimer: This blog is not for the overly squeamish.  Enter at your own risk. 

Oh, it’s not that bad….. really.  I’ve tried to be delicate.

There are two good things about having a Colonoscopy.

  1. A total detox of your digestive system
  2. Pethedine
  3. Pethedine

Oops.  Heh.

Ever since my late teens, I’ve had to have a Colonoscopy every 2-5 years.  It’s all to do with the fact my father had bowel cancer twice – first time in his 20’s.  

I’m a bit of an old-hand at the old Colonoscopy procedure, or at least I ought to be.  The fact is, it’s a horrible thing to go through, and it never, ever gets easier.  The actual procedure itself is fine – it’s the preparation that’s the problem.  It takes days and involves prolonged starvation and extreme diarrhoea.  It’s just no fun for anyone.  

If you’re not familiar with the procedure, in basic terms, it involves a doctor poking a 4ft tube with a camera attached to it, up your arse and all the way into your large intestine to look for polyps and cancerous growths. 

You even get to watch your innards on colour tv, if the pethedine doesn’t knock you out (which it never does, me).

So, follow along, if you’re up to it.  It’s quite entertaining.  You could even look at it as preparation – for it is most likely that you too will have to go through this charming procedure one of these days.  Although, if you don’t have a family history like mine, it probably won’t be until you’re over 50… (lucky bastards)

SUNDAY

4.30pm – Attend screening of Spiderman 3 at local cinema and spend duration of film gorging self with medium sized box of popcorn.

8.00pm – Read instruction sheet for colonoscopy preparation and realise that popcorn is included on the list of ’NO’  foods for 3 days before procedure.  It is now 3 days before procedure.  Oops.  

List of contraband foods: bran or muesli, vegetables, fruit, seeds, wholemeal bread, red meat.

List of allowed foods: strained fruit juice, rice bubbles, cornflakes, eggs, rice, pasta, chicken, fish, clear soups, white bread, crackers, low-fat dairy products.

MONDAY

Work.

Follow limited diet as instructed. 

6.00pm – Visit local shops to purchase items, i.e. day-before-procedure preparatory solution and assorted allowed items for Tuesday’s liquid fast.  Get a bit carried away.

List of purchases:

1 litre of Guava Nectar

2 litres of pulp free Orange Juice

2 litres of Apple & Mango Juice

1.25 litres of sparkling mineral water

2 litres of Mountain Dew

500ml of Nippy’s Lemon Juice

Packet of mango flavoured jelly crystals

Large bag of Barley Sugar sweets

1 sachet of Colonlytely (to make one litre of solution)

8.00pm – Consume final meal before procedure on Wednesday.  Feel cheated that bowl of pasta isn’t nearly big enough to sustain hungry girl for 40+ hours.  Curse husband silently.  It’s my last supper, dammit!

TUESDAY

Preparatory instructions:  Take a clear fluids diet only all day.  This allows you to take black coffee and tea, clear soups, strained fruit juices, clear jelly (not red), soft drinks (eg lemonade) and cordial.   Barley sugar sweets may be taken. 

Sleep badly, woken often by bad dreams and demanding felines.

8.23am – Jolted out of fitful doze by telephone.  Hospital calls to demand to know the whereabouts of Patient Admission Form and Waiver.  Agree to fax relevant papers from work.  Informed that given time for procedure is 8.15am tomorrow.  Heart sinks. Too early. Know from experience there will be at least a 2-3 hour wait.

Look forward to another shitty night’s sleep. 

8.50am – Mix up sachet of Colonlytely prep solution with 1 litre of water.  Recoil at familiar, synthetic lemon stench.  Refrigerate.

9.00am – Leave for work without breakfast as instructed [sob].  Stop on the way for further provisions.  Realise there is no such thing as a clear soup.

List of further purchases:

Packet of passionfruit flavoured jelly crystals

Packet of lemon flavoured jelly crystals

1 box of Pico Prep

9.30am – Arrive at work and regale workmates with tales of hunger and paltry list of permissable substances.  Take great pleasure in explicitly explaining upcoming procedure to young co-worker and in return, receive satisfying look of abject horror.  

Periodically descend staircase and cross shop floor to attempt to fax relevant papers to hospital.

10.30am – Halfway through litre bottle of guava nectar, come to abrupt realisation that fruit juice can never take the place of solid food.   Shit.  Another 30 hours to go.

11.30am – Feel lightheaded, tired and a bit cranky.  Stomach and headache.  Wish that the taste of coffee didn’t induce gag reflex.  Hum.  What else can I have?  Barley sugars.  Brilliant.  Even more brilliant had they not been left at home.

12noon -  Wonder if I can take a camera into surgery during the procedure.  Cheered by thought of grossing out blog readers with colour photos of large intestine.

1.00pm - Go home.  Drink copious amounts of fruit juice and water.

2.00pm – Feel very cranky due to lack of sustenance and jealous of cats stuffing their faces with biscuits.  Feel a bit better after stomping and huffing around the house for a few minutes.  Drink more.

2.30pm – Call hospital and manually feed (did somebody say feed??) surgery receptionist all personal information over phone due to stupid work fax machine not working.  Drink more.

3.00pm – Review contents of refrigerator.  Come to realisation that I’ve bought at least 10 times more fruit juice and jelly than could possibly be consumed in a week, let alone a day and a half.    Oh, well.   Drink more.

3.30pm – Call father-in-law to organise post-procedure pick up of doped out, anally probed daughter-in-law.

4.30pm – Feel distinctly over-hydrated.  Eat mango jelly which turns to liquid in mouth.  Continue to resemble a walking water-balloon.  

It is now 20 hours since last ingestion of solid food.  Half way there.  It is apparent I am not well suited to fasting.

Evening Preparation:  At about 5.00pm, drink the Colonlytely solution over a 1 hour period.  At 7.00pm dilute the contents of one of the Picoprep sachets in a warm glass of water and leave to cool for 20 mins before drinking.  Follow then with a further 2 full glasses of water and then continue drinking water at a rate of 1 glass per hour until you go to bed.  During the course of the evening you will have watery diarrhoea

HURRAH!

5.00pm – Begin drinking Colonlytely solution.  Feel an overwhelming sense of dread.  Curse father for having had bowel cancer at such a young age.  Curse other things, including door handle, office chair and cat.  Wait for inevitable explosion.

6.30pm – Stomach cramps and the “cleansing” has begun.  “Explosive” is one word to describe it.  As is “urgent”.

6.34pm – You do not want to know what just happened.

6.45pm – Ohhhhh….  [sob]  At least now I feel so nauseous that I’m not hungry…..

7.10pm - Mix Picoprep powder with water and note immediate resemblence to watered-down milk.  Also reminiscent of a medicine I once regurgitated.   I have a headache.

9.00pm:(   I have the shakes, am sick with hunger and a weird and unpleasant combination of waterlogged and grossly dehydrated.  Kill me now.  One almost hopes that they find something, so it will all be worth it.

12midnight – Crawl to bed filled with hope there are no nasty accidents in the night.

WEDNESDAY (D-DAY)

Morning of Procedure Preparation:  at least 2 hours before your appointment time, dilute the contents of the second Picoprep sachet in a glass of water and drink it.  Follow this immediately with a further 2 full glasses of water.  Note: this may mean you have to set an early alarm clock if you have an early appointment time at the hospital.

6.00am – Rise to resume 3 minute intervalled dashes in general direction of the lavatory.  Drink second sachet of Pricoprep in water, followed by 2 more glasses of water.  Feel waterlogged all over again.  Am beyond hunger by now.  Feeling akin to nasty stomach flu.

8.15am – Report to hospital reception and stake out all patient toilets in vicinity.  Sit in waiting room nursing headache and listen to deaf woman “talk” at the top of her voice, whilst using sign language. 

9.00am – Directed by nurse to remove all clothing, including underwear.  Don attractive, gaping robe, dressing gown and paper booties.  Sit.  Wait.  Read.  Try not to think about food.

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As far as I could get with the camera….

9.30am – Shown to hospital bed.  Ob’s taken.  All is well.  Have slightly tripped out feeling due to combination of lack of food, bright lights and soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar echoing throughout the ward.

10.00am – Place bets with anaesthatist on whether he is able to knock me out for the procedure. 

10.15am – Anaethsatist wins bet. 

10.45am – Wake after procedure, hooked up to machines and wearing oxygen mask.  Feel slightly disappointed at not seeing innards on television.  Thinks to self to ask to stay awake for next procedure.

11.00am – Feel wide awake (although slightly drunk from Pethedine) and insist I am ready to eat and go home.   Doctor C. gives all clear.  Feast on chicken sandwiches, yoghurt and fruit juice (not more fruit juice!).

11.30am – Father-in-law arrives to pick up doped out, anally probed daughter-in-law.

…. and now I’m home.  Still a bit woozy from the Pethedine, but you’ll hear no complaints from me about that. 

The good news is, that I don’t have to have another Colonoscopy for a whole five years.   I think I’ll go back to Doctor C. again.  He wasn’t pervy like the last one.

Now, where’s my bloody lunch!  I’ve got 40 hours worth of eating to make up….

Song Of The Day – Jesus Christ Superstar (OST) – Superstar

Spidey… and me

I went to the cinema today.

Spidey!  Yay!

I’ve never been a comic book freak, but I’ve always loved me some Spidey.  I think it had a lot to with the theme song being so deeply imprinted, watching Saturday morning television as a kid.

I won’t harp on about it at length, as the hype is bordering on overkill as it is.  Also it’s quite boring to read about a film you haven’t seen.

Here is a list of a few things that occurred to me during the movie (no spoilers to speak of):  

Yeah, I’m critical.  I’m an ex-film critic.  So shoot me.

  • Kirsten Dunst has a most unfortunate voice.  She does sing in the film (she’s actually meant to not be all that good), but I’m talking about her speaking voice.  It annoys the bejesus out of me. She sounds like she’s being strangled.  Every time she opens her mouth, I feel an uncontrollable urge to clear my throat.  Use your diaphragm, woman!
  • The opening credits are really naff and almost as long as the film.  That’s very, very long.
  • There is a lot of crying in this movie.  I mean, it’s really noticeable.  I didn’t feel terribly affected by the drama, so by the end of the film I was starting to giggle every time someone started snuffling. 
  • It drove me nuts when every time Peter Parker pulled his sexy cozzie out of the trunk, he would hold it out in front on himself and gaze at it in earnest for what seemed like aeons.  This must have happened about six times, at least.  People to save, Peter!  Get a move on, lad!  It was actually quite comical (ahem)…
  • People who criticise the amount of CGI in Spiderman 3, need to stop and remember that it is a comic book!  Next stop: animation!  It was almost blurring the line between cartoon and reality, but it really worked – unlike in Superman Returns.
  • It was nice to see a cameo from Stan Lee.
  • One of the things I like most about the Spiderman franchise is its sense of humour.  There are some cack laugh-out-loud moments in this movie.  Shame that the rest of the (very young) audience missed it.
  • The action scenes are hot.   See it on the big screen
  • Is it just me, or does anyone else find Spiderman in his cozzie really bloody sexy?  Makes me all a bit fluttery in naughty places , I tell ya….

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Come and get me, Spidey baby….(just leave your costume on)

All in all, a jolly enjoyable romp, as you would expect.    I give Spidey 3, ***1/2 stars.

Oh!  I nearly forgot to tell you.  Just as well it’s not a film you where need to concentrate terribly hard to follow along, because there was a group of unsupervised children in the session and they were taking turns running up and down the stairs in the theatre.[thud, thud, thud-thud, thud, thud-thud-thud, thud]  You get the picture.  They also didn’t shut up for the entirety of the film – vocally or with their constant rustling.  Fortnuately I was in the fourth row and they were at the back, so I managed to mostly tune them out…..

….Unlike the guy 4 rows behind me who had not one, but two loud conversations on his mobile phone in the middle of the movie.  How rude!  The second time he did it was the last time, because I turned around and yelled at him:

“GET OFF THE PHONE!!!”

He got off the phone.  :)

In other news:

I coloured my hair today.  Woohoo!

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Damn.  It didn’t really come out all that well in the photo.  It’s quite….. red.

Alright.  That’s all.  Carry on.

Song Of The Day – Kasabian – Reason Is Treason

I don’t shop for clothes…

It was my birthday in February.

I know, you most likely missed it.

Don’t worry, there’s always next year….

Every year on my birthday, I am given a sizeable shopping voucher for my favourite shop in Perth, 78 Records.

78’s is brilliant. My cup of tea, entirely. It’s a huge place, for Perth. Two stories full of CD’s, DVD’s, books and all kinds of other paraphenalia, all waay left of centre.

When I was neck-high in the music industry, this was the coolest place to take bands for an instore appearance. I had a fine old time babysitting Weezer for a couple of days, and that equated to 78’s most successful instore appearance to date. 700+ people spilling out the door. It was a crazy day. They played an acoustic set. If I could be bothered uploading photos, I would….

Yay!

(it’s very nice to get gushing, congratulatory notes from head office…)

I become very, very excited at the prospect of going to 78’s and having money to spend…

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Doesn’t look like much, I know. This is only a corner. I was a bit iffy about getting told off for taking pictures…

 

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After shopping, it was time for some lunch…. (who thinks they’ll mind me giving them a plug? heh)

 

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…and a beer… or several. Little Creatures make some of the best beers on the planet. They’re based here and I know people in other parts of the world, who are so very knowledgable about beer, and they will agree….

 

And, it’s on to the purchases. [blissful sigh]

 

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I couldn’t believe my luck finding this. Love are one of my favourite bands of all time. They were around in the 60’s and are completely and totally underrated. Oh, Arthur Lee, for you are my hero….

 

He died late last year. It was a sad day.

 

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Ol’ Hunter is a jolly good writer and I love me some boozy adventures….

 

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Hehe. I also have a thing for B Z-grade schlock horror…..

 

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Speaking of which….. A Russ Meyer favourite. Nude ladies, crazy psychedelia and murder. What more can you ask for?

 

(Not to be confused with Jacqueline Sussan’s ‘Valley of the Dolls’, parody aside…)

 

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Brilliant film. It’s what I imagine life to be like on a submarine in wartime, and is highly regarded in terms of realism. Tommy, care to comment?

 

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I haven’t seen this for nearly 20 years. For someone like me, who feels very at home blissing out in a mid-late ’60’s kind of way, it’s essential. Born at the wrong time…

 

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I’ve never heard of this film. It’s Australian. It just tickled my fancy so much that I bought it simply by viewing the cover art. I’m thinking, poor man’s ‘Tommy’, minus the music… or maybe with some. It has impressive musical credentials, if you’re Australian. I haven’t watched it yet. It’s probably unwatchable, but I’m a curious cat…..

 

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Silverchair are mostly regarded overseas as a teenage grunge band from Oz, made good. That was 15 years ago. They grew up. They started working with Van Dyke Parks (think, good Beach Boys) on their last album, Diorama. Stuff happened. It was good. Very good. Daniel Johns is a fucking genius. He grew up in a way nobody would have expected. I could go on about where that came from, but I’d bore you. What I will say is, there was a lot of physical pain associated with that, and all that goes with it. This is their new album.

 

I was sitting on a balcony. The day looked like this down below :

 

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… and there was good food to be eaten. So very good…

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Then there was more beer…. (and wine)

 

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After that, things looked a little wobbly….

 

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… but I managed to take a dodgy photo of myself in the lav…

 

 

 

[Photo of self removed due to overwhelming feelings of utter self disgust]

 

 

Ok, that’s it. The ending has changed now since I removed that photo and I have an horrendous hangover.

 

Ow.

 

 

Song Of The Day – Magic Dirt – Pace it

 

PS I’m tired of battling with the spacing on posts. If anyone wants to give me a tutorial, I’m up for it, but other than that…. deal with it. As I know you willl…

 

 


Yacht Rock #3

Hey, all you lovers of smooth grooves…

It’s time for Yacht Rock – Episode Three, “I’m Alright”

It’s what you’ve been waiting for.

I know you have. Don’t be shy.

In this episode, we witness Kenny Loggins’ transition from purveyor of gentle grooves, to hard rockin’ soundtrack king.

These questions and more, may or may not be answered:

  • Will Michael McDonald survive the loss of his two closest comrades in the yacht rock family?
  • Is Steve Perry really from the dark side?
  • What the hell is Donald Fagan talking about?
  • Yacht Rock #1 – “What a Fool Believes”
    Yacht Rock #2 – “Keep The Fire”

    Coming in Episode Four (it’s a corker!):
    Will Toto be the ones to bring Michael McDonald Into the smooth rock of the ’80’s? And whatever happened to Tab anyway?

    Song Of The Day – Steely Dan – Kid Charlemagne