…let me write your boss a letter.
when i am drunk at the queens.

Dear [insert boss’ name here]

Can we digit mingle one day? I love your defined cheek bones and your baby cows – they look amazing when you cross your legs.

What would you say to a manage-et-neuf one day, eight out of nine people enjoy rape – which one of us will be the one waking home crying?

I am really drunk as I write this, but cannot stop thinking about you – and your masculine features – including your masculine features – including the way you hold your iphone to your ear as you are organising meetings.

I am probably on crack right now – hence I will be probably be coming down as you read this letter, so please let me go home!! I’ll brek stuff anyway if I don’t, then I might kick you in the ankle multiple times.

Thank you for reading this letter – now let me get out of this basement with no windows… I want to be free!

Yours sincerely and drunk/on crack/sleeping on a verge,

Love long time.
[insert your name here]

p.s when in the company of greg, jeff and beer - we also are good at writing birthday cards. they involve aiming for stars and landing on clouds… and buying umbrellas.

let me paint the picture. the hail storms in march thrashed our roof - so we have to get a new one. sounds easy enough yes?

the scaffolding gets delivered along with an oversized skip bin. we now have no grass or driveways. a week later it gets constructed around our house, pity they forgot that once they had put it up ll the way around the house - they had to get the rest of the scaffolding into the backyard somehow. dilemma. 

day one was 30 degrees on a friday and clearly they didn’t want to be there. so spent the majority of the day going to the deli for smokes, solo and pies. obviously the scaffolding was hot, heavy and it’s a bitch to put up… but it’s not going to do it itself.

day two was even hotter, and this time a saturday - and new scaffolders and a few hangovers apparently. they were ‘in the shit’ as it was them that had to find a way to get the scaffolding to the back of the house. they didn’t follow through, so the people fixing the garage roof, had to go au natural. more solo and more pies and a request that i take them to the train station as they wanted to go home.

day three through six - the scaffolding is up and the roof is going on. the roofers are efficient and get the work done. in the process they do scatter the sharp bolts/screws/metal all over the driveway and path though - apparently cut feet and flat tyres are the new black.

two weeks later, the scaffolding is still up, perfect time for halloween really - with a council pick up… our place fits the bill perfectly - we looked like the crazy cat lady’s house. we’ve been told the scaffolding can’t come down until the insurance people have come to make sure it’s safe and secure. (oh and did i mention at the council pickup, people took some of the scaffolding as they thought it was junk. brilliant)

it’s been three weeks now and the insurance man has not come round, but the scaffolders don’t know this and came to take it down. they start deconstructing and throwing it all into the garden - who needs a garden anyway - just throw the metal planks in the rose bushes and knock down the fence. no biggie. 

so we have it half up half down when the insurance man rings to say it’s not safe yet. but the real reason the scaffolding has been taken down is because the workers CAME TO THE WRONG HOUSE they are pulling down the wrong scaffolding. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!

now it’s been too long to count - but because there is a likelihood that it will be raining over the next week, they can’t start the next process of taking the roof off again and securing it properly.

so for all we know, we will be living in a house surrounded by scaffolding for the rest of our lives, we will be ducking under the pole, wrapped in a chux cloth that is right across the entry to the house.

don’t forget to duck. it hurts. 

disappointment can come in a can. in a can of pasito. it costs one dollar twenty.

i was craving a passiona the other day, but in true me style, i couldn’t be bothered going to get one. but a pasito caught my eye in the vending machine at work - so i told myself it was the next best thing, and it would be thouroughly enjoyable, even though it wasn’t exactly what i wanted.

after watching the can of pasito tumble out of the vending machine - what did i see behind it, but a can of frikkin’ passiona.

that my friends, is disappointment. 

The Royal Show is back in town, and after having to work there all day, every day last year (to the point that I could tell you the sequence of the fireworks down to the very last colour combination) I thought I would never want to go again.

But today I went along with Nath and Steve from work, Nath had only ever been once, and Steve hadn’t been for a long time. We entered in with all engines blazing, looking at everything - starting with the poultry and pigeons. Damn, there are some ugly birds* on show. I even found myself a new fascinator for Melbourne Cup.

(*both of the poultry and human female variety. ouch - but i’m sorry a mini leopard skin clinging dress with your boobs hangin’ out doesn’t look good on anyone, let alone a pregnant chick who looked like she was about to blow, and had that awkward limp you get when you’re really preggers) 

 
[my new fascinator for the Melb Cup. Like it?] 

We then made our way around to all the ‘carnies’ stores with their glow sticks, stupid bird whistles, shamwows, fake jewelry, slap chops and annoying things you put on your tongue that make you sound like the seedy old man clown at kiddies parties - yep, you know that squeaky high pitched sound don’t you! 

We also made our way past multiple food vans - with donuts, dagwood dogs, fairy floss, overside cups with massive straws, corn cobs and slushies. We fell victim to a bag of 10 hot cinnamon donuts - this is where we learnt our first lesson, it is impossible to properly swallow fresh donuts, they sit in the back of your throat/half way down your food passage for the majority of the day. This can become awkward if you want to eat anything else or go on rides. 

We then headed to sideshow alley, amongst a pack of ‘parents with prams’ but funnily enough, they actually don’t own any kids of pram age, so use it more as a shopping trolley. Sometimes they are good people to walk behind, as they clear the path for you - other times they can be inconvenient when they have to keep stopping. We finally got there through the wrath of giant oversized stuffed toys - anything from finding nemo fish, to spidermen, to massive soccerballs with arms, yeah really. 

The first ride we hit was the ghost train, everyone loves a good old fashion scare, from the creepy man with the sheet over his head with a deep, mysterious voice. This one was taken to a whole new level - it was in 3D, yep, we put on the glasses and instantly felt high/drunk/certain that we were going to get groped by that creep. What we thought was going to be the shittest ride ever, as I had yet had my boobs grabbed, and Nath had yet to be touched on the back of the neck - turned out to actually be quite scary. That same guy got us good, four times. Wanker! It probably wasn’t worth the 10 dollars that we paid, but i definitely worked on my ninja skills - AND we had to return the 3D glasses afterwards. what a rip!

[3D glasses on a ghost train]

Next on the hit list was the clowns mouths, can’t go past sticking balls in a mouth and either winning a bouncy ball or an embarrassingly oversized crocodile which you then have to carry around all day. We won a crap little teddy bear. No fun there. 

The coin slots, yep the totally rigged, completely addictive game that draws you in every time - was our next stop. Not by choice let me tell you, we all started with two dollars worth of 20c coins… and lost them as quickly as we got them. how is it that he little old ladies, or the kids next to you seem to be winning everything. stupid game.

Then it was more food and wandering aimlessly past smelly cows (again both of the human and animal variety - the ladies all with big boobs/milking appendages) to the Dairy Pavillion, where I got my daily intake, plus more of dairy. I tried to drink milk to wash down the donuts that were still sitting in my throat. It didn’t work! 

We had decided we hadn’t been on enough rides so we headed back to Sideshow Alley where I made the decision to go on the Mixer. We should have stopped right there, when we saw the ‘happy hour’ sign. It was one of he cheaper rides, only 5 bucks - but you got your monies worth - if you like being tossed around in a washing machine, and being disowned by your own body - because you have broken your neck and turned your stomach inside out… Obviously we missed the note that said in happy hour, your ride will actually go for an HOUR, well not quite, but seven minutes. They think they are all sneaky, making you think the ride is over, then off you go again. This is where I learnt another lesson - If you are going to ride those rides that hang you upside down, make sure you don’t have boobs, or strap them in before the ride. I learnt this the hard way. See the ride here it looks tame, but let me tell you…  

We were now feeling ill, delirious and were walking slowly dragging our feet behind us. But there was one more thing we had to conquer. A dagwood dog. This was a mean feat in itself - as we had to walk what felt like three kilometres to find one - even though hours before, there seemed to be a dagwood dog store around every corner! Then when we got there, we still had donut throat, which we’d tried to wash down with a boost juice, but we pushed on through the pain… and took a bite into our sauce covered sausage on a stick and immediately regretted the decision.

We had now eaten fresh donut and deep fried donut - that batter stuff is pretty much the same thing and the omoato sauce was burning our lips. Needless to say, we posed with our DD’s in the only way we knew how and like all mature adults had a sword fight and gave each other tribal markings on our faces with the left over sauce. Then they went in the bin, we dragged our sorry feet, full stomachs and spinning heads back to the car, with our prizes, purchases (more to come on that later) and a hatred for people, rides, food, boobs and life in general. Thanks 2010 Perth Smokefree Royal Show. Oh and stay tuned for the video of the day.

[so mature huh]

rising from the dead is not as hard as jesus made it out to be (actually, it didn’t seem all that hard for him either, but that would defeat the purpose of this rant, so just roll with me here) but after a crucifying day in the office - all you need is some september sunshine, a blanket on the grass and a little afternoon nap. the combination of these three things brings you back to life. and i didn’t have to move a massive rock from in front a cave i was hiding in either to do so either. i win!

to my friends that let me talk about them on the radio. if you want avoid such thing - then make sure nothing funny, stupid, weird etc comes out of your mouth or happens to us while we are together. i WILL talk about it… not necessarily by choice, sometimes these things just come out while we are chatting before the show. i apologise in advance to teh next victim.

last night at my ‘other office’/the pub there was a chick playing the harp. she had a dog collar attached to it… when we asked why - she said “it’s because i play my harp at some burlesque nights, so i chain my self to the harp”. the boys got excited!

dear coles. your honeycomb whirls biscuits got me through the three o’clock munchies. not only did i save money going to the vending machine, you also saved me walking to the vending machine. thanks again.

sunday night at the left bank with tommy
+
no four thirty am start
+
bar cards
+
coronas
+
perving on an ex crush
=
drunk. booyah.

so my lovely friend paul asked me to head along to a concert at the convention center last night and i willingly accepted the invitation - as they are usually quite enjoyable and/or a chance for a few drinks.                          

not this one. picture a sea of grey hair, zimmerframes and walking sticks galore, a whole lot of mothball protected tweed and bulk diddly dee potato lovers. i luckily have both my hips and knees in working order as we were seated right down the front (that’s a lot of stairs to go down) … of the daniel o’donnell concert. this guy was massive amongst the older generation (and the irish), i had never heard of him in my life and looking around - i was clearly one of the youngest by a good thirty/forty years.

he started off with a bang and man could he move, but when your not really very familiar with his music/completely unfamiliar - you begin to wonder what’s coming next - then you begin to worry as the last song he sang sounded just like the last three before that. then he would disappear off stage and another lady would join his band on stage. his band let me mention has been with him for the last twenty three years - and you could tell.

as paul became fidgety in his seat and i began to tire - daniel powered on. he went for a good hour and half before interval, which was meant to be twenty minutes - but dragged on a bit thanks to the stairs, the cold joints and the extremely long toilet queue… so half an hour later we found ourselves back in our seats and daniel back on stage - this time in an outfit that made me vom just a little in my mouth… think silver bomber jacket, leather pants and chucks. pelvic thrusts and irish jigs (who would have thought i’d use those both in the same sentence) was like a magnet for the old ladies, who were handing him roses and koala bears.

it got to the point where you thought he would be done - but he just kept going (and going and going) and by this time i had nodded off a few times and was thinking how it was going to be navigating our way out of the car park with all these tired, old granny drivers trying to find where they parked three hours earlier.

after multiple costume changes, some irish jigs and five minutes of dedications to people (apparently you could email him and send a shout out!?) he finally finished and it was ten fourty five. kudos to the oldies for making it through the night, and if i was sixty years older, i probably would have lost my sh*t and been jumping out my wheelchair … but if you wouldn’t mind daniel, could you give me back those three and half hours of my life and pay for my dry cleaning so i don’t smell like talcum powder and mothballs for the next month. ta.

i’d never seen the video clip for this… now i have, i am wondering what drugs they must have been on.

this guy went to primary school with me. he’s gone on to do some killer photography and has done some amazing things. check it out! or see his other website here.

• i always wanted to be a power ballard singer, so i could sit on the edge of a tall stool and click my fingers with my eyes closed - then burst out the big notes. celine dion springs to mind. more recently, musicals and glee have dominated my singing ‘career’.
• i don’t do necks and feet.    
• i always wanted to be on price is right. then it got cancelled. buggger! but last year i met frank ‘fudge’ raco. he was the hot model who used to wind up his hips and ‘bump’ the train off the tracks. if you’re a big fan, you’ll know who i’m talking about.  
• my first crush was peter andre - mysterious girl was pretty much the best song ever! then there was taylor hanson… a god send i say. 
• white wine must be iced… but not too much.
• i was the ‘S’ in the JACKS club in year 6 and 7. jill, amy, catherine, kate and sally. we sat in this order in class. we also all wanted to live together in a house when we grew up.
• i still have a HANSON t-shirt that emma gillingham, kait green and i got GIVEN in year 8 from the CD shop guy, because it hadn’t sold for ages… it matches my ring, the ‘tulsa, tokyo and middle of nowhere’ video and the signed poster I have.
• i remember the days when pizza hut used to offer the ‘all you can eat’ option. we ate the peppermint grove one out of soft serve once.
• i had a crush on my ‘fill-in’ teacher mr holmes. he wore ‘movie star glasses’ and was really tall. my ‘real’ teacher miss thomas also had a crush on him. so one day she took me out of class and made me go tell him i had a crush on him…. heavy!
• i have been across (and back) the nullabor 8 times. the first time was fun, because i had a tamagotchi. it survived with me all the way home… then mum put it in the washing machine the day i got home. i cried!
• i ran away from home for the first time when i was 4, because my dad got a bigger piece of cake than me. i couldn’t cross the road, so i sat on the corner of the street with my teddy basil.
• my dad told my family that the fish flip over and swim upside down when they hit the equator. i believed him for years!
• at my 6th birthday, mum cooked the womans weekly blackboard cake… wasn’t even eaten. no one ate a piece.
• salbee. abby. sal. briggsey. SB. shmallbot. las.
• i’m not a very competitive person, but i really like to win games like UNO and snap. i used to cheat at monopoly and hide 500’s under the board, so we invented UNOPOLY.
• i have a thing for abbreviations and making up my own words and phrases. along with making up my own dance moves - the underwater scene and the christmas tree have graced the dance floors all over town!
• the beach, me and beers are great friends.
• i have a thing for dreadlocks… i don’t even know what it is… but i do.
• i don’t understand how boys can make machine gun noises, and know what buttons to press/how to play video games, when they have never played them before - they just know how to do it.
• i love cooking. anything and everything… and on that note, jeremy hamilton taught me that a nacho roll is the best thing ever - corn chips and tomato sauce with cheese in a roll. toasted. awesome.
• i’m pretty sure i can recite the whole of ‘the castle’ - i have seen it a good trillion times - and don’t tell me I’m dreamin’, as I think a trillion is actually the truth!
• i still fit into a gym leotard from year 3, i don’t know how, and i probably wouldn’t want to wear it out… but it must just grow with me? huh!?
• i like to meet famous people. and I’ve had my fair share… working for a radio station, you get to do that. i also find myself doing stupid stuff on the streets of perth - but in my work uniform i can get away with it.
• sally finds herself referring to herself and others in third person too often. sally tends to over use it, but she can’t help it.
• when i did tap dancing, i quit the day before the concert, of ‘singing in the rain’ with winne the pooh umbrellas. i wish i had kept it up, but i didn’t. otherwise i would have been in the tap dogs with adam garcia. he’s hot.