I have more stand up gigs booked - and whilst the routine I have tattooed onto my brain is good, I also think that I need more - so I am considering just doing a set called;
"Everything my husband does makes me want to punch him in the face. Including Breathing"
Using my towel and then lying about it. Umm it's wet and there is no one else around?? who else would it be??... we don't have a poltergeist who takes showers - even then the poltergeist would know about my strict MY TOWEL/YOUR TOWEL rule. Don't make me break out the skanky hard cardboard scratchy 'training towel' again just stick to your own towel!
Blaming me for hiding his clothes when he doesn't put his own clothes away. hey here's a novel idea! when the laundry is done - maybe put your own clothes away - otherwise I will put them away - and by away I mean stuffing them into the first available drawer I find - if this isn't good enough for you why don't you move into Buckingham Palace where you would have a real slave who will put your clothes away to your standards.
Being unable to sleep an entire night in a bed like a normal person. What's the point in having a bedroom with our bed if you are going to get out every morning and sleep in the spare bed?? or huddled up on the crampy couch?? Did the bed do something to offend you? This behaviour makes everyone feel bad - just stick to your side and lay still until the alarm says you can get up.
Knowingly walking past a stinky poo in the litter box... "oh Lenny must have just done that" ha! the old "Lenny just did that" excuse. Don't try to invoke the "I didn't see it" rule. I invented that rule.
Telling me every two seconds when we are lounging around eating our body weight in expensive imported Pizza Shapes and Burger Rings that you're "going to go the gym tomorrow" good for you! I'm not. Just let me eat 4 bowls of this stuff and shut up about the stupid gym.
Being a knobhead specifically when someone else is in earshot: ie - I tell you to turn the computer off when no one else is around and you turn the computer off - I tell you to turn the computer off when someone else is around and you go "don't tell me to turn the computer off!" who are you big-ing it up for?? just turn the computer off or I will turn it off.
Leaving the disgusting ring of saliva and toothpaste scum on the electric toothbrush holder.. why do I have to clean up all the disgusting things in the house??
Being a Hero when we go food shopping "I'll carry all the bags". seriously. do you think you are The Hulk or something?? Then getting one block down and asking me to carry the bags. We should just split the bags at the checkout.
Being obsessed with buying juice.. "just gonna go buy some juice" where does all the juice go?? Are you off selling juice at a self made juice stand or something?? and even when we just brought about 5 cartons of juice - we will go to the shop and you will be like "hmm do we have any juice at home?" ahh ya - about 500 litres of the shit. plus you buy rubbish flavours - you think you are the Juice King, but insist on buying things like 'tropical burst' flavour - that's not even a flavour. if you can't pick it from a tree it ain't a flavour. just sayin.
Emailing our landlord about everything "should I email Nigel about the vacuum??" I don't know? should you?? we have our own vacuum... then making me sit in the bedroom wrestling Lenny for 3 hours to keep him quiet, whilst you talk Nigel's ear off about vacuums, then we just stick it in the attic anyway because our vacuum is superior.
Having more than two coffee's and not shutting the hell up. If you are the type of fidgety person who can't sit still for two seconds nor stand a moment of comfortable silence, then maybe coffee shouldn't be the drink of choice for you?? maybe you should start chugging down all the juice you make us buy.
Purposely skidding up the bowl when I just cleaned it - and when I ask you not to skid up the bowl you get annoyed, like it's your right to skid up the bowl just because you have to go. Uncool.
Making me go clothes shopping with you even though I HATE going clothes shopping with you, and then asking me my opinion on 15 identical sweaters/jeans/shirts, buying it, then putting it in the cupboard and never wearing it because you "don't like it" and "I made you buy it"
You also do the washing up badly.
But don't die, because I would be sad. And only I am allowed to punch you in the face. If anyone else did it, I would punch them in their face - that is MY face. Only I can punch it. Get your own annoying face to punch.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Well - I am officially a Comedian. I have a certificate n all....Which means now when I'm having a conversation with someone and they start telling me "omg the funniest thing happened the other day" I can be the judge of that.. "actually it wasn't that funny. I know funny. I did a course in funny."
Over the past seven weeks I honed my Comedy Skills - trying out bits to my coven of classmate Comedians to test if it was funny or not...
Losing all bladder control.
Pretending to be robbed at the gym.
Any disgusting thing I could think of.
Then last Friday we had our showcase, it came around really quickly!! One minute I'm writing comedy routines in my comedy journal, then all of a sudden I'm gluing my fake eyelashes into my eyebrows trying to get ready for my debut performance.
The venue incidentally was sold out - to over a hundred people. I wasn't at all nervous until 30 seconds before I went on stage - maybe because my brain was like "this isn't really happening" but it was - and my teacher held onto my shoulders and whispered into my ear "allow them to laugh" and then I was shoved onto the stage blinded by the lights and under the gaze of hundreds of judgemental eyes.
Luckily - I nailed it. Every other time I had performed my routine to the group I would have mental blanks, or just not be funny and think to myself "why am I even here unfunny lady??" everyone else is so much funnier than me. Yet the crowd responded well - laughing in my carefully planned punchlines breaks, and giving me the slow clap for a well thought out simile.
I was so proud of everyone in my class - I think we all did amazingly. It was almost as though the show was just for us - because we had been through them 500 times with each other and could have recited verbatim each others routines. We had lots of in-jokes and I think our show was more professional with quality material than some of the rubbish I've seen in real comedy venues.
Of the 16 of us I know this is how I will remember them all and their comedy gems:
Richard - did a poo like the severed arm of a bear.
Ariel - we just fucked and now you owe me £600
Amy D - LUPUS!!! not in the showcase routine, but at least I got to hear it.
Amy C - raised by mice.
Paul H - I knew a black guy once.
James - Greater London is.... better.
Charles - One day you'll want to tile your bathroom.. No I won't (yellow pages gag)
George - YOU FUCKING MAN UNITED!!
Carly - it's a shed.
Leanne - moisturising her pubes for half an hour. HA!
Caroline - hates lifts.
Paul H2 - door handles. not that hard to work out.
Andy - dad ran off with a lady with multiple sclerosis.
Matt - You can take the boy out of Essex, but you can't... Essex. You can take the Essex.... Essex.
Ramsey - Fake Vaginas.
And this was me:
Didn't even need to look at it. Totes Professionalism.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Since moving to London I have gone without a lot of things. Sunshine, Nasal Twangs, and Cheds!
Seriously is anything better than Cheds??
(its hard to picture the awesome-ness oozing off the box)
It's been 15 months and I cracked and went to the Saddest Place on Earth - aka: The Australia Shop.
The Australia Shop is this sad place in Covent Garden that caters for Australians living overseas who get a hankerin for some homestyle preservatives. And it's sad because when you decide you have to go to the Australia shop to get your fix, you have desperation coming out of every orifice. They know this and they are going to take you for every pretty penny.
The Australia Shop is dimly lit, exorbitant prices, everything going out of date within the month, and loads of random Canadian and NZ things that have somehow snuck in (can't the stockist read the sign?? its the Straya Shop!!!) The aisles are brimming with all sorts of awesome shit you've forgotten about: ie - Summer Rolls, Pizza Shapes and Cheds. How the fuck could I have forgotten about Cheds??
Needless to say we dropped an offensive amount of money, and walked out of there with a bag full to brim with Australian-ness cupboard snacks.
Which now poses the question - what sort of occasion is good enough to get the Cheds out?? I think the only acceptable occasion is Kate Middleton's hens night, I'll be invited of course, because I am exotic and I bring the Cheds.
I need some Cristal to wash down this cheesey greatness.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
One great thing about being an Australian in London is keeping all kinds of crazy myths alive about life back home, ie - spiders, riding kangaroos to school, living in mudhuts, basically perpetuating the myth that we are an under evolved species who are one generation away from cave-folk... "yehah! we don't have innernetwatsits.. we just chuck that dang boomerang and sees what the reply is when it comes back, hyuck!"
Basically lying about everything back home is my favourite past time. Down there we have two moons! And in the winter all the sheep lie down on their backs and all their wools falls off and that's how we make the warm socks!
So anyway, I was at this party with some typical Londoners enthralling them with stories of home. This is where I made up the Steggles Story.
Did you know...
Back in the 80's there was this huge scandal in Australia relating to Steggles Chickens, they were putting way too many hormones in them, so that a whole generation of working class families were raising children who were eating too much Steggles chicken and growing huge breasts - and specifically Man Boobs on boys.
The result being that the slur "Steggles!!!!!!!" could be heard ringing through the playground whenever a child would run past with a bounce in their front section.
There was no greater insult than to call someone Steggles back then, because it implied your family couldn't afford genetically non-modified chicken, and that you had Moobs and that's just weird. No one wants to be friends with the 10 year old with Moobs. Plus no girl wants to be known as being overly sexually developed at a young age due to Chicken Steroids, so the slur worked for both sexes.
This story had everything - facts of Australian life, chicken hormones, and a new racial slur to the ever open ears of the British youth.
I thought it was funny anyway.
Then today the guy I told the story to tells me how his friend from Australia visited him recently and when they met up he shouted across the street "Steggles!!!!!!!!" and his friend was clearly confused "why are you calling me Steggles??" "you know! the chicken hormones! the playground. man boobs! Steggles!!!"
Whilst he had clearly heard of Steggles the new terminology and imagery it invoked was something new all together.
I think I just created an Australian based urban legend.