Wednesday, April 29, 2009

1 x Curse Removal

About 4 years ago, an angry chinese woman put a curse on me. Want Proof!?

Number of Books Published = 0
Number of properties in the mountains = 0
Beachhouse = 0
City Penthouse 0
Original Basquiat Paintings = 0
Personal chefs/stylists = 0
Scared underlings working below me = 0

As you can see - a pretty comprehensive list of things I do.not.have, due to the curse... and also the fact that I wasted 4 perfectly good years of my life working in stupid jobs with psychopaths, when I could have been selling my ovums to gay parents who want kids. Alas I have none of these things.

So last week I went back to where it all began and had my curse removed.

Four Years Ago: I was at the Chinese Gardens in Darling Harbour and was in one of those 'I don't really feel like paying for this' moods, $6 for some strategically placed rocks! a well manicured pond?!.. pffft. we'll see.

So I snuck in, got about 5 meters in when a very angry chinese lady chased me out of there yelling at me in both english and chinese, to which I assumed was a curse, and 4 years of plague/ruin/suckfest have proven me correct!

Last Friday: I went back to the Chinese Gardens and paid the money to get in, and threw change into any body of water I could find, and touched all their magic rocks, and spied many magical koi fish. All in all, I felt very prosperous about life post curse removal.

Afterwards - I went to Imax, and they made a mistake with our tickets, and gave us a $10 refund. Awesome!!!!!!!!!!! Curse is Removed Officially!!

Although I did get cripplingly bad blisters on the way home, but you can't expect all remnants of the curse to be removed entirely in 3 hours.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Dear Fudge Shop

Dearest Fudge Shop Proprietor,

I am a massive fudge connoisseur. Every outing I go on will end up in a purchase of fudge, if fudge is indeed on the menu somewhere.

Blue Mountains - fudge
Tambourine Mountain - fudge
Rocks Markets - fudge
you can rest assured, if there is fudge - I will find it.

Today, being that I resigned my job - I thought I would go to darling harbour and poke around a bit before going to IMAX and try and fill out another pointless friday. and HO HO! i come across your fudge shop.

No testers however... nevermind, I've never come across bad fudge, so I don't see the harm in buying......... 15 types of fudge.. (well we only brought 2, but that's not the point)

The point is that I got my fudge home, savoured in the unpacking and slicing to pop into my mouth whilst I watched Black Books, and guess what?!

Worst Fudge Ever.

Like - can't even eat more than one tiny bite bad... in the garbage you go!!!

Now it's not the fact that i wasted $8 on fudge, but it does bug me being unemployed at the moment - I cant go wasting precious money on bad fudge, when I should be saving up that money to go and get hynotised or something. But bad fudge!! you should be ashamed.

It's not even fudge. It's sludge.

Shouldn't "mint chocolate" have some semblance of the taste of mint?? I'm too afraid to try the caramel. I already have the runs, who knows what it could do to me.

So in closing dear sir - please make better fudge next time, or at least have testers, or warnings that bad fudge could induce severe fudge-intolerance.

And on an unrelated topic, I think your fairy floss gave me a sugar induced headache and caused me to get into an argument on my way to the gym. I don't blame you for this though, as we all have to take responsibility for our lives at some stage.

(and i'm pretty sure the chick working there ripped me off a $1 when she gave me my change back)

Regards.
Massive Fudge-Packer.

Remnants of Bitchface

You know when you're thinking up baby names for your yet - unborn, and un fertilised baby. And you are going through names in your head and you come across one in a book and you throw the book across the room because you can not stand to be around a particular name.

I have this issue. With the name AMY

I have massive residual anger at some bitchface called Amy whom I had a long standing hatred of since year 2. Therefore the name has been tainted and I will never be able to look at another Amy without immedately wanting to punch them in the face, and you can flat out forget about naming my baby Amy.

Amy was a cunt. A little blonde cunt. We met in the hallways of second grade and had an instant hatred of each other. Maybe it was primal? Perhaps we just oozed an undetectable stench perceptible only to the other, and our gut instinct was to beat the crap out of each other.

Amy was always telling me she was going to beat me up after school. So I was always mindful to run home as fast as I could. I hate running. However one afternoon I had enough of being terrorised by this fat ho, and stuck around for the showdown.

She pulled my hair. I pulled her hair. She kicked me. I kicked her. It was a very even fight with no clear winner, but after we released our pent up anger at each other - the fight was over.

But I still hated her.. and anyone else called Amy.

Then years later I was at a friends party - as she was turning 13, and look who shows up.. AMY. Die Bitch. Luckily for me, she was fatter, and more pigfaced than I remembered. She also was too poor to bring my friend a present and had to have a private chat with her to let her know (which I eavesdropped on) HA HA suck shit Amy. Take your povo fat blonde ass to whatever rock you crawled out from under and die die die. Victory to Me!! (c0s I can afford birthday presents, cheapskate hobag)

16 years later, and I still blanche and make a poo-face when I hear or see the word Amy. So there is no way in the world a kid of mine is ever going to have that name, or any friends of that name. Amy's of the world watch out.

Next up: Why I will never call my unborn daughter Laura and other misplaced residual anger stories.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Collection Plate Crap

When I resigned I thought it would be equal parts funny, and equal parts stupid to celebrate with a resignation party. I mean its the recession, people are losing jobs all over the place, and I (the fool) just walk away from mine!! what a doofus! Let's get hammered!

So I sent out my invite, and I am celebrating my foolishness (but uber relaxedness) in May. On my invite I joked about sending a collection plate around, and I harked back to a time when I went to a party and they actually passed a collection plate around.

I was friends with these interesting people called "the stoogey stoogersons" they were ridiculously frugal. I was going to one of the stoogerson's birthdays (30+ birthday) in the city somewhere. Now any birthdays past the age of 15, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who buys you a birthday present. So I rocked up to the birthday drinks, spent money on food and alcohol, brought the birthday boy a drink, then as we're leaving the bar this happens:

Stoogey Stoogerson's Friend: "Ok, thanks for coming everyone, Stoogey really appreciates you all coming out, so if you could please put some money into the hat we'll be moving onto the next location"

Hat? Money? Are we paying for some sort of service?? is a stripper about to arrive or something? but No. apparently we were all contributing to the 'waterski' fund. Yeah I don't think so.

A birthday is not a fundraiser. I brought you a drink. In these twilight adult years, that should be more than enough. Perhaps you'll get lucky and recieve a card that when opened sings "tequila tequila tequila". But forget about the collection hat.

So when I sent out a note about a collection fund at my resignation party, I thought I could actually be a mega cunt and hand one around. OR I could wear a non-existant skirt and have them stick bills in my garter... either one is good.

Actually i'm more anxious about what I will say when people ask me 'so why did you resign?' as I will have to answer in a very grown up, non-defamatory way, so I think i'lll go with this:

"because my boss yelled at me when I didn't tell her about a client's in-grown toenail" (true story)

I think thats reason enough to leave anywhere.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Whore School

Ever wondered what it would be like to be a stripper? like reallllllllllly wondered?? I have. I wonder all the time. I wonder if its totally awesome. I wonder if they make millions and become GUESS models, and have songs written about them by rockstars.

Who can listen to Warrant's 'Cherry Pie' without wanting to rip their top off?? It's like a stripper anthem. However, if you thought you'd make a good stripper just because you can gyrate your way around a kitchen, you would be in for a huge eye-opening experience if you went to 'stripper college' (read: went to a stripper workshop on your day off because lets face it, the couch gets tedius after 10 days)

Strip Clubs with daytime lights on.. not so sexy.

A strippers time is spent in 15 minute increments. There's 7 hours to fill, and you don't make any money for showing up for your shift. you make what you earn in shows and tips, and the club takes 30%.

I thought this was a high end joint where you'd stand around in cute outfits and maybe get your tasseled nipples out at some stage but no, its complete nudity. flaps n all, and there is a lot of law-abiding when it comes to getting your flange on display.

One of the stupider laws was you can't leave the club with someone (unless its another stripper) because you could be soliciting. So that means you have to leave the club, in the dark, in the middle of the night, and walk alone to your car/cab.. yeah good plan!! Did a serial killer come up with that law??!!

Anyway - of our group of potentials, there were 6 of us, two who had clearly done this before and the rest of us (me) whose eyebrows leaped off their head halfway through the induction talk (tampons!! you cut the string off tampons so you can strip in the nude!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!)

One girl had to leave when she realised if you wanted to work there you'd be getting the pink taco out. And the rest of us fumbled our way through the whore routine.

One thing that did upset me, was that you don't get to choose the songs you dance to. How annoying.. all these years imagining myself whoring it up to madonna, well now that bubble has burst!

My favourite part of the tour was the 'shower room' - where the girl gets naked in the shower and .. showers.. they even have loofers and shower gel, and the guys watch on a couch behind the glass. That doesn't seem to disgusting. who doesnt like to shower?? I wonder how sexy it would be to watch a girl shaving her pits, or holding the faucet like a dick and pretending to go to the toilet. This would be my area of choice if I was a stripper. Shower-Room, don't have to talk to anyone, and clean yourself.. (plus at $140 for 15 mins, whose complaining?)

Tricks of the Trade: apparently it can get really painful rolling around on your knees in 15 min increments, so one should always bring a nice furry sheepskin rug to roll on. How does one dance and look sexy and carry a rug at the same time??

Noone knows who you are. Your real name. Your real identity. Not the other girls. Noone. I would have a hard time with this, because you have your stripper identity "candee" and then your pretend identity that the other girls in the club and preferred clients know, and then the real you.. how the hell can you keep track of so many identities?!?! I'd be 'Eva' - the coma victim who woke up 6 months ago and has no identity, and is stripping to pay off the medical bills.

I learnt its all about the lies, all about creating a fantasy, and getting as much money out of the customer as possible. Which I always knew, I just didnt realise it was so cold. Surely in Pretty Woman, Vivienne is having a good time with Richard Gere? she's not just there for the money! right?!! right!! I always thought strippers had secret hearts of gold, but just like Brett Michaels says - never fall in love with a stripper.

They didn't tell us anything about what the guys do with their boners though, they said there is no touching allowed, but they didnt say there is no 'lipsticks' allowed. I couldnt handle that. No way.

I learnt a lot today. I learnt more than mere mortals should know about the tantalising world of stripclubs.

Next week: the army.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

....and that's how its Done!

I love going to weddings of good friends. They are the best kind.

I especially love it when my friends arrive in this:

Does it get better than a pink cadillac???!! the answer is No.

I wish I had that car. I would drive around in it everyday. Driving to the doctors for a vadge-scrape would take on all new meaning. I'm sure every event you could possibly attend, would become awesome just cos you're driving there in a pink cadillac... "i'm pickin up an AIDS test.. in my pink cadillac... i'm going to a funeral.... in my pink cadillac"

Onwards with the wedding. Palm Beach. Frangipani's. Purple Parasol. Cruisin on Pittwater. Excellent Vows. Excellent Music. One Excellent Couple.

Weeeeeeee. Officially Best Fucking Friends Forever.

Love that shit.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Not My Assembly

I was talking to some school teachers this weekend, and the topic of School Assembly came up, to which I learnt that threatening children with having to perform at school assembly is a done thing?

Not to me.

I looooved performing at school assembly. I would go out of my way to make up routines so I could perform, and would pester the school principal for permission to perform.

I can rememeber my School Assembly performances as so:

Primary School:

The Turnip Story: I was new at school and they were going to perform some show for the old people, in which a group of farm type characters - attempt to pull a difficult turnip out of the ground. I was the old hag. Score

Monster Mash: the year above me at school was doing a dance routine for the "monster mash" technically, I wasnt in the production. But I snuck into the hall to watch and learn their routine, so I could perform it at a later stage.

Ghostbusters Routine: we dressed up in sheets and performed a dance to 'ghostbusters'

Da Doo Ron Ron Routine: exasperated at the lack of routines I got to perform in at assembly I self choreographed a dance routine to 'da do ron ron'. This went down well.

Physical Routine: with the highs of my 'da do ron ron' I decided I would yet again, perform a self choreographed routine, this time to Olivia Newton Johns 'physical' unbeknownst to me the sexual connotations of the song, and not to mention that my pink dress was see-thru and everyone could see my blue underpants.. I would not return to the stage for a few years after this debacle

High School

I performed in many a dramatic production at high-school, from the evil witch in Hansel & Gretel, to another evil witch in a self devised play about heavy metal, evil witches and dramatic eye-makeup, then I played a detective and had my own solo song... but nothing beats my year 12 performance for music, when I got up and played 'La Cuca Racha' on the xylophone.

If only I had the chance to perform at assembly these days.....

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Air Guitar World Championships

I have to say I reckon I am pretty good at air-guitar. I am ambidextrous. I never fuck a chord up, and I can wail out a solo like Jimi Hendrix. However put me at a real guitar and its like a cat being strangled. Yeah Air is definitely the way forward.

So I was very pleased when I came across this documentary.

HILARIOUS.. .and furthermore.. Inspiring.

That. Could. Be. Me

The Australian Air-Guitar Championships are being held this year in Canberra over the Queens Birthday Long Weekend. Siic. It makes me want to head into the heathen land better known for its dead kangaroo carcasses, fireworks, and anal fisting porn. Finally it has something good to offer the world.

But that is not the best part.

The actual "World Championships" are held in Finland every year. and they will be in August this year, and guess who is going to be floating around Europe and the arctic circle at that time of year... ME!!!!!!!!!

OMG!! I could go and see C-Diddy in the flesh!! and sleep with Bjorn Turoque!

First stop: Auschwitz!!! Then the 'Air Guitar World Championships'!!!!

This is shaping up to be a very fine August... Very Fine Indeed!

(I can only hope that one day the world evolves to a stage where we have the 'Air Drums Championships, and dare I say the 'Air Pole-Dancing Championships'.. Eeeeshk!)

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Is This.....

A tiny bloody stingray?? (the bloodus stingus) OR a disgusting placenta, fresh out of the oven?

who knows??!

who cares?

gonna go spew now.

I wont be setting foot in the ocean again if there's a chance one of these could swim up and touch me.

Bags not having sex again either (just in case) pigs in space.