History has been made! Good work America!

7 more days.....

As a member of the free world I am hoping that in 7 days time we will have this dude as our new leader. It is serious time for a change and after 8 years, two wars, one financial meltdown, one fraudulent election, millions discriminated against/marginalised and thousands killed me and 5+ billion other people on this planet have officially put the US on notice.

As an American friend of mine commented, "The US have a serious PR problem now and if they get this right all is forgiven. if we get is wrong and its the fall of Rome all over again."

I have faith, not just because of the polls , but in the ability of smart people to say enough is enough.

Duty Bound Part 3

Now for the thrilling conclusion to "Dynasty - the return of the husband stealing whore". Oh wait that was on TV...silly brain.

The deliberation period ended up being one of the most stressful things I have ever been a part of. As the Australian legal system decrees the jury’s decision has to be unanimous there were no majority rules votes, we had to all utterly agree on each point of the law to come to a guilty verdict. We had two counts to rule on and, much to my surprise, the first one was simple. After forty mins we all voted and found him guilty. Imagining myself running from the jury room a free man that day I was wholly unprepared for the fuss the second count would create.

Due to the second count hinging on what the accused’s intent was, we had issues proving what was in his mind at the time of the crime. Some of the jury (me included) saw intent could be inferred from what he did and said. But some of the jury could not infer guilt without solid statement of intent or action. Thus started a three day argument which saw the group fracture, reassemble and then fracture in a final implosion of jury frustration. The entire trial’s evidence was trucked up and down the stairs everyday by our poor old sheriff, someone needs to get him a mule or at least a forklift. We requested the court transcripts and much debate was based around the judge’s last instructions, and what she deemed as being the laws we had to work from. We role played phone calls, drew Venn diagrams, siphoned through tons of paper and talked until we were blue in the face, still we were getting nowhere.

So we decided to send the judge a love note saying we had reached a verdict on count one but were unable to reach a verdict on the second count. We were then ushered into the court room faster than a speeding bullet, the old court Sherriff practically popping a ventricle. Immediately the foreman was asked to stand and deliver the verdict, and no sooner than the word guilty slipped from his lips a mysterious set of stairs behind the accused opened up and out spilled a subterranean army of bailiffs who took him away down into the holding cells. It was the most bizarre and serious sign of the entire trial, and compounded the overall seriousness of this all, that we were not just locked away for the hell of it. We had to make a decision on this man’s actions, and now it was so real, he was guilty and I had been one of twelve people who have indelibly altered his life and his family’s. It was hard not to feel a twinge in my heart, even in the face of all the evidence, it being the first time I had realised he was simply a man who had made a big mistake and not just as a faceless person called ‘The accused’.

But, for us, it was not over, the judge instructed us to return and continue deliberating on the second count. If we could not come to a decision by tomorrow, then we were to let her know. We all left and were so emotionally drained we slumped in our tiny chairs like ragdolls. The next day, we fought and argued, people were starting to crack, shouting, crying etcetera, including myself. I was becoming very angry and about to lose it with the corroded hinge. So by 3pm we decided finally we were never going to agree, and a letter was drafted for the judge and dispatched via huffing Sherriff mail, and ten seconds later we were whooshed into the courtroom as if by waterslide. The accused stood in the dock, surrounded by bailiffs and looking very tired. The judge asked the foreman to stand and asked if we were able to come to a decision based on all the evidence, he said we could not and immediately she thanked us and we were dismissed. It was a blur, five mins later I was collecting my belongings and happily shaking the hands of people who thirty mins ago I wished to slap.

And that was it. I wandered out of Kings Street Court Complex and off into the light, blinking while my phone erupted into a dozen messages, and wondered why I felt a tiny bit sad it was all over. Thinking I was about to suffer the juror’s version of Stockholm Syndrome and marry the judge, the reality of over five weeks of work to catch up on and various relationships to resuscitate snapped me back into this world, soon forgetting about my former institution. It still affects me every now and then though. A dramatic month of amplified emotion and vigorous debate, cathartic and disturbing, I consider it one of the most illuminatingly visceral but valuable experiences of my life.

Duty Bound - Part 2

So on my second trip back to judicial land, we were again unceremoniously shuffled into another cold room where we were told in no uncertain terms that, unless you had a limb falling off or a UN meeting to chair, there was no way you were being excused from Jury duty a second time. The trial slated was also a ‘short’ trial, expected to run for only four weeks so, with that, all excuses were sent spiralling to earth in Hindenburg fashion. Hearing this I crumpled my eloquently pre-crafted employer signed essay into a ball and imagined all the types of office materials I would have to remove from my skull after dropping this bombshell at work. At this point we were stripped of our names, and assigned numbers. While I was trying to remember my new catchy seven digit number, we were informed that the numbers protected our identity and if anyone asked us our real name we were to scream ‘Stranger Danger!’ and run and find the nearest adult. With our new identities in hand, we were moved off to empanelling.

This was not as I expected. It was swift, our numbers were dropped into a large oak box (maybe related to the first judge), and like a Bingo game from hell once our name was called out we walked into the jury box and sat. Once the twelve seats were full, we each stood up one at a time and the barristers had an opportunity to challenge us. I knew about this final chance for dismissal and had decided that day to look particularly redneck. So when my number was inevitably called I, wearing a biker jacket, freshly cropped hair and black jeans, I stomped across the court room with a prize winning scowl. Half expecting the bar table to erupt when it was my turn to stand in the box, all that greeted me was a silence so piercing I could hear the blood throbbing in my ears and the crickets outside. After what seemed liked an eternity I was asked to sit, and that was it. I was there. Being one of the last to come onto the jury box, I looked about at the rest of jurors who all wore the same stunned mullet expression as I. These were faces I was going to get to know very well and yet I had no idea who they were.

After some initial instructions from the judge that I can’t remember due to my mind shrieking with horror, we were asked to leave and go to the jury quarters through a separate door to the left of the box. To say the room was small is an understatement. The pokey staircase twisted up and revealed a claustrophobic room with a large wooden table, twelve rather tightly packed chairs, a tiny kitchenette and a plasma TV - which we later discovered was broken. To make matters worse, there was no natural light only four arch shaped windows made from frosted bullet proof Lucite. The light that was strangled through these windows was powdery and diffused, and to this day I have no idea if it was natural light or from phosphorescent tube lighting sandwiched between the gaps. The feeling it created was like being in a large panted greenhouse, being aware of the world outside but never able to confirm it. When in this room we could only talk about the case once all 12 were present (toilet breaks included) and once we all arrived in the morning, the doors were locked and we were trapped in this unnatural room with 12 strangers, trying to make a decision that would seriously alter another stranger’s life.

We all sat down at the long table and eyeballed each other for a time, then introduced ourselves. Surprisingly we were all quite cavalier about telling each other details about ourselves. The judge had told us that we could ask to be referred to by our numbers if we wished, even though the idea of being called Juror 84-59-006 SCR H was quite charming, I bit the bullet (hopefully not taking one as a result) and joined the party. The jury was a perfect cross section of people including the friendly older Aussie bloke, the chatterbox, the engaged girl, the stoner, the young buck and the know it all. So our life as an empanelled jury began.

We were required to be at the court room my 9.15am sharp, where we were locked into our Lucite box at 10am. After an hour or so a kind hearted semi retired court Sherriff lumbered up the stairs, and spluttered that the court required our presence. Every day our Sherriff ran up the stairs and every day I thought he would drop dead once reaching the top. Walking into the court room as “the Jury” was an awkward feeling, as all eyes are literally on you. You are being eyeballed by the judge, the predatory defence team, the smiling prosecution, court reporters, family and finally the accused. Each group had their own reasons for staring you down, the defence and prosecution tried to read you, whispering and pointing or furiously making notes. But the accused just stared at us, slowly and purposely, looking at everyone as if making a memory facsimile of our entire DNA structure. It was unnerving.

The trial itself went from brain meltingly dull to incredibly absorbing, but mostly we felt as if we were gormless drones due to the detail that was laid out for us. I understood that the case has to be created in detail and in a chronologic order but for some things it was just mind numbing. One ‘expert’ witness was brought in to explain to us about the mysterious world of the home computer. We were presented with a folder of graphical diagrams and pictures, on what a computer was, how one would turn it on, what it looked like and what was this crazy “Internet”. I felt as though my eyeballs were going melt and run down my face from boredom, the ‘expert’ took great care and fifteen mins to let us know a mouse on a computer was not as a result of a rodent problem (no one laughed) but in fact a tool for inputting information. This was not helped by the fact that the ‘experts’ acted out each operation of working a computer. Typing was represented by his fingers wiggling furiously in the air, the computer monitor was represented by a theatrically drawn mid air square, the internet was some kind of floaty cloud thing with a huge open mouth, and inserting a DVD was done in violent jabbing motion with bulging eyes as if he was describing a murder. Initially funny, but after two days this was just plain irritating.

Over the four weeks, we took our pleasures where we could find them. Talking about the teams and discussing possible love affairs within the court “is the judge actually married to the defence?”, we took bets on how long the court would be in session each day for an entire week, we also nicknamed some members of the court. There was ‘Doily’, a court reporter who loved to wear her grandmother’s tablecloths, a junior barrister who was named ‘Green Girl’ due to her rather off putting skin colour, “Madge” the judge’s assistant who was as gruff as a Victorian statue with surprisingly super feminine embellishments like plastic flowers and pink ribbons in her hair and the ‘Court goblins’ who were the defence team assistants that sniggered and smirked at us on a daily basis.

We also talked about run ins with the legal teams outside the court. One girl kept on running into the judge who literally hitched her robes and ran away from her, one guy saw a witness at the pub and I saw the accused in the park, who I ran away hysterically from smashing through the bushes, spilling my latte all down my white tee.

The weeks passed and I became accustomed to my double life as a crime fighter, days locked in a court, evenings spend furiously catching up on work via wireless laptop, nights spent working out and falling asleep before the 9.30 news. I drifted into work when I had ‘days off’ looking like a ghost and feeling rather redundant in the efficacy of my impact on my team’s deadlines. But due to a highly supportive boss and co workers I was able to balance my demands and commitments, without going crazy and slamming my head in the fridge door. I felt strangely disembodied from the world, busier than I have ever been in years, but unable to talk to anyone about my stresses or even about my day. I became the bore at drinks, with friends prodding me for details but with the threat of jail or a pants-peeingly large fine I had to remain tight lipped. So feeling like the most boring interesting person in the world I awaited the end of a trial that was not only wearing down my patience but becoming more a strain at work.

The trial passed the four week point and was still trucking, personalities on the jury became oddly distorted due to the stresses of a daily onslaught of graphical detail and the strain of our lives slowly slipping out of our hands. The friendlies became grumpies, the perky became sobers, the quiet became mutes and the opinionated became utterly dominating and plainly self serving. I, as were others I am sure, was becoming more irritated with one member of the jury who felt everyone wished to hear his forensic detailing and opinions of the court system, or which of his many cars was the most ego-nomical. His voice, like a corroded iron hinge, was quickly making me unhinged, so much so that I had to escape to the toilet three times a day with my powdered coffee for some peace and quiet. In this pressure cooker environment, someone was likely to blow and I starting to understand why one of the Gordon Wood Jurors called the Radio station, they wanted out! Finally after a mumbling and patchy three day closing argument from the prosecution and an angry emotionally charged six hour closing argument from the defence, we were instructed on the law we were to base a decision on and then were sent off up to our shoebox to carry out the most important part of the trial - the deliberation period.

Part 3 coming soon, so is Christmas. No really it actually is. yay!

Duty Bound - Part 1

Hey,
I was asked to write something for the Sydney Morning Herald opinion section on my jury duty expereince. I wrote this, which was 6000 words too long but here it is for you:

When I got called for jury selection, like many people I racked my brain for possible excuses from the experience. Annoyingly I was not pregnant, travelling overseas or in need of an operation. Kicking myself for not going to Bolivia, severing a finger or being a woman, I glumly accepted my fate and found out via a rather Orwellian phone message service the date and time of my required service.

Presenting myself to three gruff sheriffs outside the Dickensian Darlinghurst courts, I was unceremoniously shoved two slips of paper. One form was how you wished to be paid, the other one to fill out if you wanted an “application”. Thinking I was about to go in for a job interview, I was later told by a booming court sheriff that it was an application for my appeal to be excused. With words like ‘application’, ‘appeal’ and ‘excused’, already felt like I was the one on trial, but after entering the cavernous court room one, I realised I was one of 70 citizens, about to serve their community.

After a rather epic speech about how you could be excused if you were a policeman, dentist, miner, mother, butcher, baker, candlestick maker, we were asked to fill in our forms to make an ‘application, explaining our reasons why the judicial machine should let us free. I looked about and pretty much most of the 70 people in the room were hunched over, tongues protruding working on what seemed to be their magnum opus. But what surprised me were the amount of people availing themselves to be on a jury, and they were not the student, old lady, unemployed brigade but a pretty average and cultural biopsy of the community. Anyway, I was wasting precious excuse-making time, so I looked at my form and was horrified that the space available to create the masterpiece was not generous, more space is given to fill out your address on a drivers licence form. So in this 2 cm cube I wrote a poetic description of my job and how great tragedy would befall myself and the company if I was gobbled up in the court system X amount of time. This effort was not helped by the fact it was one of the coldest July mornings of the year and the archaic old court room had no heating expect from an old spluttering fan heater over 20 meters away. My fingers were solid granite and being someone whose writing has been likened to a doctors script the end result was a page of smudged scribblings.

This was not going to go well, I thought as I slid down my oak pew. The sign “jurors in waiting”, officiously branded in the wall behind me, permanent and unmovable, summed up my chances quite aptly I thought.

This case was the Oscar of 2008 trials, the Gordon Wood case, expected to mammoth 16 weeks minimum. As I explain to a sheriff who was as festive as a pit-bull in a party hat, my boss would rather run through Circular Quay in a flaming grass skirt than let my clients go to seed over 4 months. The sheriff growled that my excuse was not good enough and that “anyone could use that excuse”. I was quite taken aback as I thought career requirements would be as serious as studies and well timed breeding. Lady pit-bull then told me that I would have to talk with the judge to be let free. This to my horror would happen two hours later in open court. We were frog marched into the court room and the entire court was set up and chomping at the bit to get moving - barristers, reporters, court assistants and a rather stoic and grand looking judge who looked like he had been whittled from a thousand year old piece of oak.

Lining up for our private audience with the judge, perky words like ‘empanelled’, ‘sequester’, ‘unemployment’ and ‘destitute’ whirled in my head with cyclonic fervour. I snapped to attention when I saw the Judge beckoning me over with a finger so long and bony that it must have creaked like a wooden box lid when moved. Up close he took on an even more Tolkien like severity, this was not helped by the fact he was a little over 3 feet higher than my head (I am 6’3) in his seat. The similarities between this and Oliver and the slop server were not lost on me. The judge then spoke in an alarmingly soft and kind voice “what is your application” he asked. I managed to ramble coherently about work, 16 weeks, elves and a grand quest to not be on the bread line by December. He smiled kindly, half expecting him to flick a large lever and I would tumble into a pit lined with spikes. But he whispered ‘you are excused’.

But that, however, was not it. I was promptly told by Ms Pit-bull that I was required back in two weeks for another trial.

Oooh gripping, stay turned for next week's part 2, where I lose my marbles.

Grottiest Flat Ever!

Jeez words can't describe, the state this flat is in. Apparently two cats are lost, feared dead (or buried) under all this crap. Just wait till you see the toilet! PUKE www.buymydump.com

Music to say "F%$K You" to

Aaah were would we be without that angry break up song to get you going in the morn. Probably still crying in the shower rubbing soap into your eyes. But we are not, any way here are my recommendations for some "get bent you fool" songs. They work and make you run like a mutha on the treadmill:

Tears dry on their own – Amy Winehouse
Hung Up / Sorry / Nobody Knows Me - Madonna
I Don’t Give A Fuck - Peaches
What goes around comes around – Justin Timberlake
Wheel – John Mayer
I Don’t Think So - Kelis
Say it right – Nelly Furtado
Handle Me - Robyn
Kiss You off – Sister Sisters
Don’t Get You – Sneaky Sound System
No Regrets – Robbie Williams
Far From Home - Tiga

WORK!

Working Working, is a good trick to get over a rubbish man. You may feel like laying down on train tracks and chewing live electrical wires, but NO i would rather put on my new $2000 hot suit and go out and work, while looking hot. Did I mention i looked hot? So I say "go on and stuff yourself you silly man, i am amazing with church bells on, and hot". Anyhoo, back on track... Last night was a proper good example of beavering away. We successfully pulled of a launch last night for our client Jurlique and their amazing Bondi Beach Concept Store. The event went really well, considering it was a Monday, in Bondi and horror weather was threatening. It was a quite long day and I was relieved though to crawl home into my trackies and eat pizza watching a disaster movie. PS: starting looking at flats, have a viewing tomorrow. Let you know how that goes.

Pics care of our mate: Kris Baum www.krisbaum.com

BAAAAAHHAHAAAAHAAAAAAA!

LEGO MADONNA!!

Work it or loose it

I think its universally agreed that when your personal life suddenly turns to compost, you turn to distractions. Rather hookers or drugs. I am throwing myself into work.

Here is some images from a recent client summer shoot I produced, hope you like.

The Idea

10 years ago this week, I left New Zealand to embark on my life overseas. It seems so very far away when I look back over that time, being a rather green Kiwi kid hoping off the jet in Amsterdam, journal and a rather anorexic wallet in hand. It’s crazy to think about all the concepts and values I held dear when I left and what has shifted and what has become a priority or a moot point. Early on in my trip I came out, which provided to be the biggest single hurdle I have faced in the way I considered myself and my place in the world. Everything that occurred after was effected to some degree, it was like having a thick heavy carpet being pulled off your head and taking a long time to get use to the light in the swirl of dust. I went from being very happy to being very low, a seesaw of emotions and introspection that must have made me seem insular and goofy.

My hunt for a career path and a goal for the future saw me focus on setting myself on a path to greater possibilities, this occur with its own battles. Interning in magazines where they would rather step on your foot rather than acknowledge your existence by stopping, late nights of the service industry, which lead to temptations that come with a somewhat inverted lifestyle going to bed at 5am and waking at 3pm. I kind of look back on those days with a lonely kind of nostalgia, the hard work and the mini dramas that seemed so serious and all consuming.
I have succeed in some ways, and failed in others. I am still single and never had a thought I would be at 31. I assumed I would have someone special when I went through life’s biggest ups and downs, but does that make me a weaker or stronger person for doing it alone?

One thing I do miss, is the fearless way I went about approaching love and relationships. I use to throw myself into these situations, strike up conversations with anyone, fly to other countries all in the name of finding someone special. How can confidence grow with certain things but reduce with others. You would think time would make you more savvy with partners. Skipping forward and now I have met someone who considers some attention, and I am doubting myself and every hiccup is inspected with CSI detail. Because of this I am now concerned that I have damaged things with the first person in 4 years I have had an interest in, but if you ask me what I think I did. I am not so sure, I just feel I have ruined it.

What is that?? A friend told me you have to watch what you play out in your head as they could end up happening. But could it be I am looking for problems where there are none? Can I create my own hell when I should be happy?

I am not sure what I am scared of, being dumped for someone buffer, smarter, dumber, younger, older, richer or hotter? These things have already happened in the past, why am I still scared.

How funny it is that just a few weeks ago I was so sure of myself and happy that I was a person I could like and now I doubt every thought and move.
The guy travels a fair bit, has a place in the country and is there a fair bit doing renovations, so it has proved a bit hard to stay in contact when I he is away. This I sometimes construe as a lack of interest and work myself up into a tornado-like whizz of hysteria.

I am still trying to iron myself out, as I am in serious potential of losing my shit and ruining something new. I need to figure how to sort myself. Keep busy though, keep my fingers busy and away from the phone. Maybe a dried pasta hobby or miniature basket weaving. It’s so hard, as I though these things were supposed to be easy, but it’s seems the greatest struggle you have in life is not with anyone else but with yourself and your own cruel confidence killers.

That aside I still hold true to the I guess I have always had an idea about love. Maybe idea is not right, an imagined analogy seems more apt.
I see myself walking through life, like walking down a path, and every now and then I pass someone who has meant something to me, and as I walk I half expect them to stop. Take a moment. So far most of them have kept on walking. So I kept going, sure in the fact I would meet someone, that one day someone would make me want to stand still for a while. I feel that way now, I have stopped, now all my nail biting is waiting for them to stop walking too.

I am still hopeful this will happen, sometime.

Relationship - 101

I recently met someone who is quite different from anyone I have met before. Among being a kind, nice guy with a decent head on his shoulders. He seems to carry himself with a type of humanity and soul that makes me think he is something quite special. We have gone out a few times and each date has just been easy. By easy I mean, just relaxed and fun. No games, no ego. Just getting to know someone who is interesting, amazingly refreshing. It's hard, like i am starting from step one again. I have become so use to the games, that it takes me back when someone is game free. This has made me truly stop and pay attention. He is a Kiwi so that also explains his honest and laid back attitude. But the thing i am worried about is my own neurotic brain farts.

It is common for most people doubt themselves when they meet someone who turns their head, and after a couple years of career shifts, health scares, indifferent men and all the subsequent stresses and changes in focus as a result. His arrival comes at a time i feel the most together and certain of myself. But all that becomes shaken slightly when you doubt yourself especially in the presence of a new paramour, more so when he seems genuinely seems to be quite a find. To exercise these goblins I have to remind myself to believe in myself, and in what he sees in me. I also remind myself that relationships take time, and if he is worth as much I suspect he is, time is the best thing to iron out the creases from emotional upsets. So is love.

Regardless of the outcome of the present situation, it seems it is time for me to settle these old hurts to focus on a future where i can be happy, settled and have a person to share this with. The change begins with me.

My double life as a crime fighter

Jury duty has been quite a trial (ha get it?!), i have been serving the community, as a crime-fighter as my friend likes to call it, pretty much 5 days a week for 2 weeks now. Its hard going, we have to be at the court at 9am to be locked (yes locked) into a small room with one large table, no natural light and dehydrated coffee in polystyrene cups. We are  kept in this room for about 1.5 hours until we are called to the court by a kindhearted old sheriff who i think will have a heart attack each time he climbs the stairs. We stay in court for an hour and a half, listening to the meandering prosecution and the strutting and pompous defense lawyer, then its back to our den for morning tea. After 20 mins we are back in court till 1pm, where we break for lunch again in our rabbit hutch. Then comes 2pm we are back in court till 4pm. All this time we shuffle back and forth like drones, when ever the lawyers want to squabble about evidence and what not. Its all done at quite an irritatingly slow speed.

Not to say its not interesting, in the past week its really become quite absorbing, but to race home afterwards and try to do a full days work before i fall asleep is taking its toll. Luckily my boss is being super cool about this and had set me up with wireless remote desktop thingie for my laptop.

It seems this jury duty has come at a time when there is a natural lull in things before the spring summer crazy time. So that's a good thing, and once this is over (which is next week) i will be free for 5 years if not forever.

My follow jurors are quite a sight, most of them are quite lovely and very nice. But one has an opinion on everything from where the bullet proofed windows are made to the utterly interesting 100 differences between his Prius and his MX5. The term "going on" is sent to a strange new place orbiting the world Fat Mouth with this guy. You see peoples eyes glaze when he whines "well that's interesting you say that because..." Or "I grew up with his mother's dog's hair brush's toilet seat and they use to.." The other is Bobblehead, she is quite harmless and very sweet but you mention the Olympics and her head shakes like San Francisco in 1902. It does not help she has a voice like a corroded iron hinge. I am thinking peoples nuances become magnified by a trillion in such a pressure cooker environment, i have become positively mute most of the time, till i think Yappy has had too much airtime.

It is genuinely fun when the lawyers go for each other throats and the judge has to prize them apart like a primary school teacher in the school yard. It is also amazing when they get a principle witness, the last of which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. 

I do look forward to having regular hours  again and not needing to go hide in the toilet for some quiet time.

Law and Disorder

Just when I thought I was back, Jury Duty has crept up on me like Gary Glitter in a Thai playground. I have been select for 3-4 weeks on a trial in the supreme court. Dang! Luckily I will be paid and my boss will top up my earnings so I am not out of pocket. Just a bit of a bugger as I have to work from home in the evenings, doing what i can.

But this case is a very short one in law-land and it may wrap before 4 weeks. Fingers crossed. I may not be able to talk about the case, but i can talk about my fellow jurors, one I have already nicknamed 'Bobblehead' because of the way her head moves when she talks.

Hopefully i can make some entries in this time, would not want for you (one person and a dog with wheels for legs) to miss out.

Springs Coming

I can smell it, I can see it in the eyes of small fluffy creatures, the fruit store owner and even in the eyes my boring flatmate (Who I only thought only looked forward to brushing her imaginary cat and the biweekly bible and bumper sticker mail-order catalogue).

Spring is a mere hop, skip and Brazilian wax away. Yes, we may still be shivering in our leathers and gazing enviously at the sizzling roast we just pulled from the oven, wishing our head be so golden brown, crispy and covered in rosemary and oil.

But in three weeks time I can consider wearing shorts and thinking about how translucent white skin will look when skipping to the shops for Beef Stock during the first spring day. Kind of like snow blindness in khaki. I have the new flip flops that I got as a gift at fashion week, staring up at me optimistically from under my bed, much alike a virgin at a strip bar.

I have already formed a mental list rivalling the dead sea scrolls of what I need to get my hairy little hands on for Summer. New bathers, check. New sunnies, check. Interesting but fun love affair, dream on. Funny thing about summer love, they are a lot like sunglasses. Very hard to find the right one, but so easily lost.

ok ok ok!

Let it be said, yes i have been AWOL for a good part of July. So sorry, but hey, no news is good news. No i have not been sequestered away in some jury room (i got excused BTW) or hit by some runaway trolley full of drag kings in Newtown. I have just been working hard and laying low. But i promise i am back and with that here is something utterly filthy and completely funny. I am gonna write up a storm for you my pretties, now where is my flying monkey quill and ink....

Its COLD!!!!!

My fingers are frozen to the clackboard its so cold. Took this pic of frigid Sydney on my iPhone. BRRRRRRRRRRRRR! I am off to stick my fingers up the dogs bum to get them warm.

Jury Duty

Dum DUM! I knew something was fishy when I was asked to confirm my address by the justice department. Either I was being subpoenaed or jury duty was looming. Soon hence forth after skipping to the post box to mail my form, I received a rather stern email demanding my presence fresh and early at Darlinghurst courts on Monday 21st. Boo!

The form which says that I am just in the selection process also says, if selected, I could be up for 16 weeks of full time jury duty. Not cool. My bosses face drained of colour as soon as I told him, but then I tried to smooth it over by saying most people sit in a room for an entire day before being told to go home. Service served.

Please please please let this be me!

If I do go through to being interviewed by lawyers another tip, from a Lawyer no less, is to look very YUPPIE as they do not want too successful people on a jury as they seem to want Mr and Mrs Average.

But worse case is that you have to serve almost three months, paid by work, to do 12 hours of a day of Jury Duty. People have been know to lose homes, fail courses and, gulp, lose their jobs due to these things. Though being fired for jury duty is highly illegal. Also if movies serve me well I will be kiddnapped by the mafia and blackmailed to vote non guity or they will kill my 10 year old son.

Still not fun. I need to charge my iPhone and take a book I think for Monday. Just think of this as a down day, hopefully with no return visits.

UPDATE: It got delayed till next week.

I Goty Goty Goty!

This morning this baby arrived for me. I have been fingering it all day long. Its brilliant, i love it. i need to take a moment and put my head between my knees.

Beached in New Zeelund

Love this, makes me homesick a tad. Very funny

Almost here.

oooo. oooo. Can't talk. Me needy to see. Batman. NOW! *deep breath, foot stamp and bottom lip sticking out* Apparently it is amazing and Ledger is utterly mind blowing as The Joker in The Dark Knight. It will be very strange to watch him and think he is dead. I hear that posthumous Oscar talk is starting to mount for him. Sad but a fitting tribute.

Let Jesus-a-looza commence

World Youth Day has plopped finally into Sydney, much to the collective sighs of most residents. Firstly the word day is a bit wrong, last time I looked 'day' was a 24 hour hour period and not 5 days. So World Youth Week already got off on the wrong foot with me, today the trains were more messed up than usual, apparently due to lost American Christians wearing "Jesus is cool, so you be too" tees holding up trains while they ask a train map where 'Bandi Beach' is.

Wishing I could run from the city to avoid all related Pope-mania. Things are set to become much worse, as apparently this weekend is where it will all come to a tambourine smashing conclusion with over a million people expected to disco with the Pope in Randwick. Thousands of Sydney-siders will need to walk to get places as most streets in a six suburb radius will be closed so the faithful can shuffle to the site.

I will avoid my evils of organised religion diatribe this time as I think I could be arrested under the newly enforced "annoying" laws past by the state government. The "annoying' law mean that anyone wearing a tee shirt that can be offensive (aka: freedom of speech), acting inappropriately (aka: right to protest) and behaving in an embarrassing fashion to Sydney (anyone that is not straight, white and religious) can be spirited off to detention for the period of the 'day'. The funny thing is no one from World Youth Day, The Police Force or the NSW govt will own up to asking for these draconian laws to be adopted.

Oh how lovely. Best keep your anti-pope/Jesus-a-looza thoughts under your lion cloth for the next few days and leave your "God who?" t-shirts at home or you will be smoted by the local cops.

UPDATE: The annoyance laws have been overturned in a NSW court who have declared " the annoyance clause was invalid because it could not have been the intention of Parliament to make such vague and extensive limits to free speech". See here

Govt to scare underage drinkers straight

Not really, this is the new tourist 'experience' from the new Darwin theme park, Crocasaurus Cove. Looks rather pants crappingly exciting, I would try it. According to local redneck chip shop owner, 'Choppa' the croc packs a whoppa of a punch when approached. I find that easy to believe. I would think if I was lounging about in my hole wondering what dog I would eat for dinner when a large plastic beer jug containing a shrieking Japanese tourist dropped on my head, I would give it a hell of a whack to see if something chewy or dead fell out. How long before Pamela Anderson turns up in hotpants to rescue Chopper?

How many did you cross off this weekend?

The New South Wales Office of Liquor and Gaming have released a very useful list of signs of drunkenness over the weekend. Its incredibly illuminating and utterly useless. what they going to do? laminate it and stick it in the toilets so you can check every time you go for a slash, to see if your drunk yet. Check yourself on this list. I got about 13 now, and I am sober and at work. What a load of tosh.

You are drunk if you are experiencing or have experienced:
1. Slurring words

2. Rambling or unintelligible conversation

3. Incoherent or muddled speech

4. Loss of train of thought

5. Not understanding normal conversation

6. Difficulty in paying attention

7. Unsteady on feet

8. Swaying uncontrollably

9. Staggering

10. Difficulting walking straight

11. Cannot stand or falling down

12. Stumbling

13. Bumping into or knocking over furniture and people

14. Lack of co-ordination

15. Spilling drinks

16. Dropping drinks

17. Fumbling change

18. Difficulty counting money or paying

19. Difficulty opening doors

20. Inability to find one's mouth with a glass

21. Rudeness

22. Aggression

23. Belligerent

24. Argumentative

25. Offensive

26. Bad tempered

27. Physically violent

28. Loud or boisterous

29. Confused

30. Disorderly

31. Exuberance

32. Using offensive language

33. Annoying or pestering others

34. Overly friendly

35. Loss of inhibition

36. Inappropriate sexual advances

37. Drowsiness or sleeping at a bar or table

38. Vomiting

39. Drinking rapidly

40. Reading Lists to find out if one is drunk or not

Scary. No words needed

Ok words are indeed needed....Bindi the Doll from Hell talks too! Says things like "Lets go rescue some wildlife", "Is that a Galah in your dunny?', "Come on guys lets poke a Croc with a didgeridoo" and "Watch me sing and dance while I scare the world with my dead DEAD EYES!"

Yippie Skippie! News

Soz about me not updating this for a few days buuuuuuut, I bagged myself a grand promotion! I have been shifted to be the 2IC (don't ya love my corp speak) aka second in charge of the new lifestyle division for Saunders&Co, our sister company. So i will be working on a bit of beauty, bit of Fashion and a bit of lifestyle and I am working with a great team as well. Oh my it all makes my man-nips tingle. This has come as a huge surprise but a welcome one, I love a challenge... and a curry. I also received a rather generous pay increase so i wont be running out of loo paper anytime soon hopefully. Bar something totally left of centre happening my entire set of teeth falling out, being sued by Cher or Jodhi Meares showing up for work. Ooo topical. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

When you're alone, and life is making you lonely You can always go....to a cuddle party!?

Forget Downtown, when you can go to a party and hug strangers for three and a half hours. Nothing naughty, just flannies and an ambrosia salad. The website describes a Cuddle Party as:
"A Cuddle Party is an event for adults to get together and explore affectionate touch and communication without it becoming sexualized. At these events, we create the safe space to talk about and explore what our needs are as adults when it comes to affection, intimacy and welcomed touch" ooooooookaaay...

Don't believe me look at the website.

I Wanty Wanty Wanty 3

I have stopped hyperventilating now, so I can type the keyboard whilst I sip down a gin and prune smoothie to calm my nerves. Introducing the Nooka Zub, a glow in the dark watch made exclusively for the conclusion of the Kanye West 'Glow in the Dark' tour. The will only be, *deep breath and gulp* 15 made and Kanye himself will find most these babies a home on a spoilt wrist somewhere. What plop I say, surrrre there will be 15 now but then their will be 30 more, then 300 then ooh we set up a website selling theses babies and before I know it the homeless guy outside my building will be wearing one. He already has a taste for Missoni, kid you not.
Sigh, I am off to top up my smoothie and find another way to read time when I am locked in a bank vault.

Spiders and Drugs

Healthy or not?

Right you see I am confused, last night bundled in my PJ's the SBS news told me that Australia was one of the healthiest countries on Earth and people live now some 40% longer than sometime other than now. Great! I was just about to jump off the couch and have a hand full of icing sugar when I thought I would switch and see what those crazy kids on the ABC were up too. They said that Australia was 'Drunker, Fatter and more diseased' than ever before. They get the same press kit? Somebodies poor PR intern mucked up bad, 'Oh I was supposed to send, like, the UN-diseased press pack? oopsy'. So the ABC, who I always imagined as a wise old woman in a rocking chair who loves cream on everything and watching man o man repeats, said Aussies are huge binge drinkers, are bustling belt sizes nationally and...have more STD's than ever before. Cripes but I think that might having something to do with the binge drinking, beer goggles anyone?

Oh ma, I don't know who to believe. One one hand I want to go out and have that extra piece of garlic bread, the other hand I want to have my stomach stapled and walk around in a vacuum packed coverall from Glad. So to calm my nerves I consulted the daily oracle, not Perez Hilton, SMH.com.au. They said both, and I paraphrase:"Congrats Australia your healthier than a while back, but your still fat, have more chance of dieing of nasty things like cancer and heart disease. There is still a 17 year gap between indigenous people and non indigenous peoples lifespans. Don't even get us started on whats down ya pants!" OK so that's not really good news is it...

Also here is a picture of a strange handbag I found on google images. Is it just me or does that black powder puff have glowing pink eyes?! Creeeeepy!

Love Love Love!!

Went to Cut Copy on Saturday night care of my friends at Universal Music, and it was amazing! I love them. The set was so tight and kept the music charging for the entire set, only with a couple pauses to wipe the sweat away or guzzle a beer before the songs pick up the pace again. I was dancing non stop for the entire set. Wicked. They pretty much focused on the new album In Ghost Colours, with a couple of faves from Bright Like Neon Love. Just awesome!! Thanks so much to Kirsty and Corinne. Quite funny too, got propositioned by a teenage girl!

Abby Cornish - Sexiest Vegetarian 2008 Woot Woot!

So Abby Cornish won, the sexiest vegetarian of 2008 award from PETA in the Hunter Valley last night and I could not be happier, considering I have never heard of this prize and wondering what the point was. I have no problem with vegetarians, but I am risking a masked beetroot attack tonight by saying I think this is the oddest award I have ever heard of. Apparently competition was tight for this coveted crown, supposedly made out of lima beans, turnips and a large fennel bush. Abby fought off the best of the vego mafia including John Butler and Missy Higgins as well as those single letter last name entertainers Andrew G and Jackie O, to take home the world’s first edible award.

Tens of thousands of people voted for sexiest vegetarian, I obviously missed that invite. I believe the other categories were, Happiest Pumpkin Grower, Nicest Cat Owner and my favourite, Rescuer of tubular fruit from sexual harassment and vilification. I believe people where elbowing each other to get to the Banquet, which was a sumptuous spread of pumpernickel bread and twig salad. I also hear things got really crazy after too many wheat grass shots and they headed off to Newtown to harass poor old ladies who still use plastic shopping bags.
Congrats Abby!

Cut Copy. Me. Saturday!

I was at a disco party by my friend Oli and i got talking to her friend Kirsty who works at Universal Music and does the marketing for most of the Australian Electro bands i love. I started to ramble when i heard she did Cut Copy, I love their new Album In Ghost Colours and their old album too. Anyway she offered me a ticket to the sold out gig on Saturday and i literally ran screaming through the house.

I can't wait! Will let you know how it goes.....Jealous?

Button Up Rednecks!

After this horrific button was sold at the Republican Annual (Witch Hunt Against Every One We Hate or Deem Anti American Cause They Are Not Us) conference, I took a look at the Republican online shop. The http://www.republicanmarket.com/ has such teeth grind inducing horrors like "Life's a bitch so don't vote for one" and "Stand for our troops or stand in front of them". You can almost smell the gears burning at the republican spin factory to work themselves out of this one.

Check it out in all its redneck glory http://www.republicanmarket.com/store/cat/21.Buttons

Me Mum

I just found out that the investment company my Mum had invested a majority of her money in NZ has gone bust. It is so sad, she is understandably devastated by it. But in the midst of this she is still stoic saying it could have been worse and other people are worse off than her. Which is true she has an amazing property that will only appreciate in value no matter how stink economic outlooks get. But its just so hard to hear this happening to your Mum, i just want to fly home and give her a big hug and make her a cup of tea. I have sent a box of treats to make her feel better.

The outcome for the investment firm is not clear, they are in lock down and have to wait to see whether they dissolve the company and spread out the fund to investors or hold onto it and live to fight another day. Its all up to the vote, my Mum's as well. So SAD! I just want to cry for her, especially when she gave me the money for the tooth last week. I said i wanted to pay her back but she said for me to pay off my CC and sort out that.

Unfortunately this puts the house plans on permanent hold as my Mum was going to help me with this investment. She was apologetic but i said do not worry i just want to know she will be OK. I think she will be as she has always been a real estate maverick. But I love me Mum and it breaks my heart to think how bad she must be feeling.

UPDATE: Mum's feeling better now, things are not as bad compared to other stories i have read. The company has gone into moratorium which means all the funds are locked until a decision on the company is made. Last word was Dominion was appealing for overseas investors to bail out the company, then a meeting will be called to vote on the next steps. Chances are Mum will get her initial investment back, but nothing extra.

Sex and the Shitty

My tanturm looked very similar to this.

I have been holding back seeing the movie version as the utter estrogenically charged mania surrounding it made me frankly a bit scared for the safety of my testicles. I loved the series but was slightly apprehensive of the movie version, but after talking to several of my female friends who (in between their foaming mouth corners and scratching past me with red nails to rebook tickets) told me it 'Tooootally' is worth seeing. Now all my friends have seen it and the one person i was going to see it with, has downloaded it! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! So now either I have to go alone and look like a utter loser or wait for the DVD and look like a bigger loser renting it on a Saturday night. Gawd.

I wanty wanty wanty 2

I feel as office supplies go, the more crass or stylish the better it is for the entire universe. Well by universe i mean, office and by entire i mean, me. This ticks both boxes. Today i continued my lunchtime hunt for things i will buy when I go overseas, which is now longer than a Peter Jackson movie, i saw this brilliant all-in-one office thingee. Called The Butt Station, the Urban Outfitters site says "This really puts the "ass" in "businass!" and continues to say "The Butt Station is perfect for any desk, keeping you smiling and organized! Includes a tape dispenser with metal cutter, pen and business card holders and a toilet paper clip compartment with magnetic butt for easy retrieval. Imported. Wipe clean." Ewww.

New Front Tooth

"I can suck a straw and talk as well!"

Finally, after 2 and half months and nearly $4000 spent on ONE tooth, i have a brand new front tooth and it looks......amazing.

It is difficult to describe but it looks so real i would not even know, even the gum looks healthy. jeez what an episode, which i would not have been able to do so fast if my mum did not fork up half the $$ for the treatment.

I tells ya, dental care should be more subsided in this country. I am just lucky i could afford do something about it.

Anyway after weeks of chopping my food into bite sized chunks or chewing away from my front teeth (which is very hard, try it!) i christened my new chomper on a ham and cheese sandwich. Hardly a glam unit but still was the best sandwich i have had in ages. My dentist (who does Miss Australia and Craig Wing) said i can pretty much eat anything bar biting ice cubes and watch apples. who bites ices with their front teeth???

Hopefully the dramatic teeth chapter of my life is closed for a few years now.

Emotional Russian roulette anyone?

Don't care what people think? I dare you to try http://www.facestat.com/, this is Hot or Not from hell. FaceStat lets you up load images of yourself and then other people post comments and opinions on your picture. Random strangers judge your looks, intelligence, political leanings, if you are drunk or not as well as your ability to win fights with house pets. These opinions are then pasted on your face like one of those 'glue and newspaper' primary school social studies projects. Facestat explains "Within a couple hours, you will have detailed statistics about how people feel about the picture you provide. It's like market research for the individual." I am quite certain I do not need that much information or 'research' on myself. If anyone has the moxie to take on Facestat, please let me know. I will provide a hot cup of bovril and a shoulder to cry on if need be.

Old friend and cow sex.

I was just reading an online news piece before i bugger off home, about a US high court judge who had been busted putting porngraphic pictures online of women dressed like cows and men romping with turned on farm yard animals, (if you are more interested in that story than this one click here) and a picture of my old school friend Barnie popped up in an ad. so funny! I saw him in the TV ad but did not expect to see his face in the middle of beastiality trial news story!

Winter in the city

Love this picture, but who is the Alfred Hitchcock look alike on the left!?

So winter is finally here and i was just counting on my fingers the other day on the escalator that its only 8 more weeks till spring. 8 FUDGING WEEKS! Jeezing flipping heck, half the year has gone and i have done stuff all exciting things. That gonna change now, i have booked in with freediving spearfishing with great white sharks and sample shopping with menopausal house wives. i am living life on the edge now, i may not even flush the toilet after i use it. Not sure if my flatmates will like that, but i am just craaaaazy now so they can ship off to boring-ville if they can't handle the heat. Bloody hell, what was my point?

I am back now

Ok, yes the past week or so has been quite dramatic. On Saturday, I had to go to the police and file a report against this lunatic who is using my pics on websites. I had the funniest community liaison officer, who told me she and her mum are huge fag hag, she loved horse racing and then told me some rather saucy stuff about the son of one of Australia's largest media moguls found in a carpark in Kings X having 'bum sex' with his boyfriend. It was quite the eye opening visit to the local cop shop.

Anyway, they are being quite helpful. They are unsure how to tackle it as the whole online thing is a new frontier for policing. But one of the websites said they would be open to release the details of the offender to the police, so fingers crossed the police will do that.

Also my mum has fronted the money for my new tooth, which was quite embarrassing for me as I really wanted to do it alone. But I guess sometimes you have to let someone help you when your struggling.

How you been?

I wanty wanty wanty!

I is hyperventilating after confirmation that the iPhone is FINALLY coming to Australia, through Optus, 3 and Vodafone. I have been obsessed since I snatched one out of the hand of a Neighbours actor at a function, stroking it slowly and muttering "me need this" and "my preciousssssh". For me, whose iPod has seen better days and my mobile phone spends more time searching for a network than ringing, the amalgamation of both units would be a techies dream come true. One thing though, if you are listening to music on an iPhone and it rings, are you totally deafened by the ring tone shrieking straight into your ear drum?

Picture not so perfect

"Subtle and tastefully decorated property available. May contain dwarfs. A must see"

Ok yeah, trying to start house hunting. not in a manic Sydney I-must-get-up-at-5am-every-weekend-and-slog-around-looking-at-every-house-available way but in a oh-that-looks-spiffy-i-may-go-have-a-look-if-i-get-up-in-time kinda way. But what has surprised me is that the images you see are totally not what you get. Some of the pictures look like the available place is this gargantuan property with huge white walls and space enough to catapult the cat let alone swing one. But when you get there, its the size of a Peruvian torture hut, low ceiling, dark and packed full of strangers. Its kinda annoying, rather like making a date on the Internet with a svelte looking person and turning up to meet the Hindenburg. Here is one i want to see on Saturday.

http://www.domain.com.au/Public/propertydetails.aspx?adid=2007169677&s_rid=HomeAlert:NSW:buy:photo&prevChannel=Emails&prevPage=Home+Alert+Open+(postclick)&prevServer=Emails&s_cid=HomeAlert:NSW&haprof=938026

what do you think? Looks good but may be the size of a dolls house, so i may be able to slide an arm through the window and grope about to see whats its like.

Knot Me!

Had my massage on Friday night. It was amazing, though it did not realise i had to go naked. The heavy eyelined swede lady said she "would cover me at all times, but here...we go nude like". So ever so bashfully i succumbed but with an extra towel underneath just in case of tornado. It was still a bit hard (no pun intended) to keep my privacy contained when she was doing the foot scrub. But i think all parties all remained...accounted for. Any way it was just awesome, i have never had a full body massage and it was incredible. A wee be strange having a stranger kneed your buttocks and inner thighs, but good never the less. She had her work cut out for her, i had the most massive knot but my left shoulder blade. It felt like one a river stone under there. She worked at it for ages and it shrank but not all the way. It was so odd, but not a surprise. Its weird to realise how many aches and injuries you have, especially when someone is going over your entire body looking for them like a sniffer dog! She said i need to get a few deep tissue massages to get rid of it. I am such a pussy when i comes to hard massages, but i will look into it. Overall pretty awesome, though after i was covered in so much oil i looked like a wrestler or a porn star.

Hoping for a change...

I am going to get an hour long massage at SpaChakra at Blue Hotel in Woolloomooloo, a gift from my boss for workin hard. Have a going away after, not sure how i will scrape up for that! I may be a bit floppy.

I have had a really bad day, Last week i found out that the person who put a false profile using my pictures in a gay dating website, was up to his (or her) old tricks again. I complained to the site, provided my ID and they supposedly took it down, but i looked again today and they we back up. I feel like the website are not taking this seriously. Can they not block this person or black list the pics?

Obviously not. My friend Alex said i should take it as a complement, that someone has taken all this time to set up this fake profile. That's true to a certain extent and bless Alex for looking on the bright side of things, but its awful nevertheless as every second look from a guy , i think think "Argh!" and that they think I like humiliation sex, Gloria Gaynor and scrap-booking (?!). At least the site does not say i have HIV anymore, that was horrible and just wrong.

The really odd thing is that the pics on the site are from years ago and i do not have any idea where they came from, so it makes me think its a spurned ex or a Facebook leak. I doubt it was the ex (s), not that i am all 'skippy-ole'-lollypop' with them but i doubt they would do something as vile. Facebook is a safer bet, but some of the pics used are not even on my Facebook. Confusing. Anyway i have heightened my security on my Facebook page, so only friends and the pope can see my pics.

When did i become this person, who has such bad luck?

Please wish me some good karma or Mojo to give this bad run of luck, a permanent flick. Have a good weekend x