Friday q and a #80.

Look! Friday q and a is about as old as Margaret Fulton! Joy among joys.



It's been three weeks since we last met like this (I do apologise, but I've been out having a life and I certainly hope you don't begrudge me my happiness), and things have been rocketing along like Ben Johnson in a crack triathalon. Grand plans for Berlin in September, above-par dining experiences, and just the right amount of swashbuckling with a spectacular tousle-haired ginger rascal. All cause for high spirits, would you not agree? That and a fair dose of Friday questions, of course...

Anonymous said...
Maleny! not Melany- oh but that's just me being pedantic.

You're quite right, Anon. I have edited accordingly. That will teach me for blogging under the influence of sedatives.



And we seem to have triggered some misty-eyed nostalgia...

Ben said...
My grandparents used to live in Maleny. In a house in the forest. We would visit there, and they had a big top-loading fridge with things in it we didn't have at home. My grandpa was a Scrabble fan and he kept the tiles in a lovely cloth bag, something the likes of which I had never before conceived of. It would rain and the mud was bright red. It had a smell I've never smelt anywhere else, it's a smell that lives in my bones. Rainy Maleny.

Thanks for bringing back the days when I was small. I'll think of some questions later, but thanks for that.

You're welcome, Ben. RYWHM - stirring the memory pot with overly flowery sentimentality since 2004.

Miss T said...
Hey Ms Fits!

You’ve been tagged, by ME for “seven strange things about me!” And I want the sevenest, strangest thingiest things about you eva!! It goes like this, I got tagged by Emma Honey another Melbourne bloggin’ gal and then I had to write MY seven strange things and then I thought I’d tag you! Tadah! You’re it! Look forward to reading it! :)

I can't say I normally play the tag game, but since you've so cunningly disguised it as a Friday question YOU FIENDISH GENIUS I am forced to do your bidding and answer.

The sevenest, strangest*, thingiest things about me are:


1. I sleep with my hands clenched in fists.


2. I have an octagonal bed.


3. When I am buying grapes at the supermarket and one falls on the floor I can spend up to ten minutes worrying about whether it was making a bid for freedom or simply suffering a freak accidental separation from its grapely parents.


4. I am obsessed with shelves.


5. I have a rain machine.


6. I have been married three times to the same man.


7. I am one half of an 80's power duo called Blue and Misty.



*I'm not entirely certain how strange these character traits are, but there's certainly seven of them. And they are most definitely 'things'. Two out of three can't be all bad.

Anonymous said...
Hi Fits.

"Gaining some semblance of clarity after time off in the mental wilderness is something to be hugely thrilled by. Tell the world. SAY IT LOUD."

You want people LOUDLY proclaiming how straight and chemically unfettered they are? In public, I assume? What the fuck kind of advice is that? And "mental wilderness"? Hello. Me and mine are fucking lucid, girlfriend, and we pursue "edges smoothed" to "toasted, nicely toasted" at every available opportunity. Lets hope I don't run into one of these LOUD born again pre teens you're sending out into the world for I may have to kill it!

Mikeed is nothing more than a fuckwit. Ban him. Why wring hands or seek consensus on it? This is a blog. Your blog. There is no right to free speech on other people's blogs. An aside. I wonder if Mikeed realises how non anonymous the Internet is and how the time it would take to trace him, attend at his abode and have his DSL cable wrapped around his neck would be measured in minutes rather than hours?

First question. Have you seen merkley???'s work on flikr? I suspect you'd really like it. One of my faves is "Lulu - Patron Saint of AssKickery" but "Beth - Sitting Sorta Shoeless in Front of a Sealed Up Fireplace Wearing a Crappy Green Sombrero and Making Margaritas in an Unplugged Blender Underneath Five Mushroom Head Dealies" is also a goody. So second question is (assuming you have a chance to look at some of the shots), would you just adore posing for this guy/gal?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/merkley/sets/72057594114270629/

You may need this guest pass:

http://www.flickr.com/gp/72738986@N00/PU3469

That's it, I think. Thanks for the work you put into this Blog. You're a top sort with the rare trifecta of superlative aesthetic, brain and (sense of) humour. Oh, and great tits! Oh, and yeah, in my imagination you smell really good too. That wasn't creepy was it?

P.S. Rove has never been, is not and will never be cool. And what's more I suspect he's Daryl Somers' evil doppelganger, incarnation or love child.. But I don't know which. Frankly just the thought of either of them makes me uneasy.

P.P.S. Is "miss t" who just posted before me some sort of strange bot generated blog spam? "You've been tagged, by ME". I guess she does manage to encompass all that is cringeworthy about blogging in one paragraph which is a noteworthy achievement.

Goodness, that's a fair wee handful of queries. Let's see how we go.


1. 'You want people LOUDLY proclaiming how straight and chemically unfettered they are? In public, I assume? What the fuck kind of advice is that?'

It was more a celebration of our friend's foray back into the world of 'on' after so many years in a doped-out haze, Anon. I'm not much a fan of those over-zealous fresh-faced teens shouting about their sobriety either. We all know you jive to Sum41 without the aid of alcoholic cider, no need to fucking go on about it.


2.'Have you seen merkley???'s work on flikr?'

I hadn't, no. But they are rather grand. I'd be most pleased to pose for Mr. or Mrs. Merkley as history has proven I'm not averse to stripping off and making an ass of myself in front of a camera.


3. 'In my imagination you smell really good too. That wasn't creepy was it?'

People have certainly implied creepier. I think it's rather a nice thing to assume about someone, actually.


4. 'Is "miss t" who just posted before me some sort of strange bot generated blog spam?'

I wouldn't say so, no. She just expresses herself differently to you or I. Imagine if we could just write off those with an opposing game plan as human spam? I'm quite keen on the idea of dismissing someone handing out how-to-vote Liberal cards at the next election with the words: 'I'm sorry, you're just spam to me. Consider yourself deleted.'

Anonymous said...
What would you do, now, if you somehow found out that by the time you are 60, you will vote conservative and agree with what right-wing commentators write in their columns?

What would I do? I don't know, enjoy the journey I guess. I am certainly growing more polite as I get older, though whether this will translate into a complete rejection of every political system I've subscribed to throughout my life and a full and thorough character overhaul is another matter altogether. Wouldn't the Right be pleased to have another victim see the light and join them on their evil path? They could parade me around at meetings like one of those ex-gays who solemnly inform Hillsong gatherings that all they needed was a mug of tea and a lie-down and they no longer craved anal with men.

Alice said...
OH NOES!

*tapes mouth up and runs away*

bwahahahaha! Hope you're having a wonderful time :)

word verific - dlmefmc - couldn't possibly be more appropriate

I had and am continuing to have a wonderful time, Alice. Thank you. And for god's sake, COME BACK.

Andy Pants said...
In answer to your question, I'm not aware of any legal boundaries prohibiting a teenager from posessing an unhealthy obsession for a certain strange, highly amusing somebody who happens to be almost thirteen years older than himself.

And besides 'love knows no bounds' or something like that.

Well, I suppose I should ask the most important question I find myself pondering.

What specific type of woo-ing would it take for you to let me throw you onto my shoulder, carry you off and rock your socks off?

Do you like Doctor Who? I hope you understand that if you say no I will be horribly crushed but also that I could learn to love a non-whovian if necessary.

And finally, whats your idea of a great time?

Hello, you fine young fellow. Let's do some mathematics here...thirteen years...which would make you...


....legally allowed to be engaging in flirtatious banter on this blog. Right we are, then.


a) I must admit I'm a fan of a good showy woo, though I have been somewhat poleaxed of late by some rather breathtakingly subtle quiet achieving. Obviously an above-par mixtape works at gaining the attention of an intended love, and I'm also a complete mess when someone cooks for me. Whether these things alone are enough to warrant a caveman-like shoulder toss is debatable. There's always the mystifying and inexplicable element of chemistry, you know.


b) I do like Doctor Who, yes. Although it used to scare the bejesus out of me as a scrap. I am currently sporting a long stripy scarf about town and more than one person has made reference to where I've parked the TARDIS, ho ho.


c) My idea of a great time involves feasting, carousing, exchanging sly witticisms with offensively humorous compadres, and hitting the road with nothing but a travel guide, my dog, and a handsome fellow in charge of the stereo. I'm a simple lass at heart - feed me and make me laugh and take me on the occasional drive and I'm undone. Sad, really.

i am not a cinematographer... said...
ah, sweet byron bay.
i am moving quite near there soon, to a cottage in mullumbimby. do go to mullumbimby...drink cocktails at the pointsiana cafe. it's a tiki bar.

and i do have a spare ticket to splendour up for grabs if you fancy it.

You lucky devil, i am not a cinematographer. Byron is still a pocket of loveliness and the beachly areas free from meaty-jawed backpackers playing hackeysack are wondrous. I've missed the Splendour train (Squalour in the Mud, my oh-so-witty local friend Patrick called it), but thank you very kindly for your offer. I went up bush instead and talked politics with some beautifully dry new friends. I hope you thought of us when you were pogoing to Gotye.

I'm not Craig said...
I love a good game of Guess WHich Obscure Early Nineties Band [A Blogger] was in.

Was Big Matt Stud in Masters Apprentices, and if so is he in prison for tax evasion right now?

Or was it Rosanna's Raiders?

Oh, EVERYONE loves a good game of that. It's very good of you to pass the baton onto someone else for us to torment, INC. Though you may be starting off on the wrong foot...

Ben said...
I'm Not Craig may well have some sort of Memento-type issues if he thinks Master's Apprentices was an early 90s band...they were a 70s-ish band weren't they? They sang about turning up the radio and complex offshore tax schemes.

They were indeed a 70's band, and a brilliant one at that. I saw Jim Keyes play at the Box Hill Golf Club a few years back and he fair silenced the room with his leather trews and howling vocals. The poor bugger's rather ill at the moment. Perhaps we should send him a card signed by everyone on the blog.

Now there's commitment to an idea.



Also:

I'm not Craig said...
Yes, Ben, I am having Memento type issues, which make me think that Masters...

*forgets what Ben wrote*

*hits random stranger in the head with wine bottle*

* goes and gets some seriously freaky tattoos*

* etc etc etc*

SO MUCH VIOLENCE.


Can we not all just learn to get along? Honestly.



BMS replies:

Big Matt Stud said...
Well, there seems to have been reasonably little interest in this round of the guess which band the blogger was in, but I will address the two entries so far:


Indecent Obsession - no, I think if I was to have been in a boy band it would probably be more along the lines of Boytown.

Your Wedding Night - I wish ! Any band that can produce lyrics like "that boy he can please us, like four kinds of cheeses" are bona fide geniuses. Full lyrics to the awesome 'Lachlan' can be enjoyed here.
(A pedantic point, I know, but do they actually count as an early Nineties band ?)

Shakespeare's Sister - no, and I would also like to add that I am not now, nor ever have been married to Dave Stewart.

I have to shamefacedly admit that I'm unfamiliar with the work of Midget or Tweezer.

INC

Was Big Matt Stud in Masters Apprentices, and if so is he in prison for tax evasion right now?

Or was it Rosanna's Raiders?


That would be a no and a no, Mr INC.

Does anybody think that they might have gotten Glen Wheatley on tax evasion simply because they were unable to prosecute him for inflicting John Farnham on us for twenty years ?

As for Rosanna's Raiders, after seeing this awesome album artwork, all I can say is that I'm sorry not to have been in them either.

I'm very sorry, too. Look at it! Utterly magnificent:



They are totally 'calling down fire' in this picture as advertised.


Truth in music, people. Truth in music.

Ben said...

Big Matt Stud, I think they got Glenn Wheatley on tax evasion as revenge for < REDACTED > Delta Goodrem. That's right - watch this space.

ARE YOU TRYING TO GET ME KILLED, YOUNG MAN?


'The Voice' has friends in high places, you know. He could have me knocked off in the time it takes to say 'we're not going to sit in silence'.

Some annoying pedant said...
Hello me lass,

Strange as it is to believe with its "you-couldn't-script-this" hilarity and monumentally deluded protagonist, I understand American Movie to be a documentary rather than a mockumentary. This chappie is the real deal. I think it won the documentary award at Sundance that year.

In other news. I see from a previous post you are a fan of Martin Amis. Ever read much of his pops, Kingsley? I'm reading The Green Man at the moment, which appears to be a bit of a spooky-as-heck ghostie tale... with the occasional three-way.

You're absolutely right about American Movie - my fault for misreading the question. If we're on the topic of mockumentaries it's difficult to go past Spinal Tap for utter genius, and most anything Fred Willard appears in possesses a certain comic je ne sais quois. In terms of Kingsley, I have a couple of his in my teetering stack to delve into the moment I get more than five minutes to sit down and read. Apparently he's a colourfully out-and-out misogynist in his scribblings, which should make the literary journey interesting for all involved.

Marmalade said...
Dear Fits,
This question won't save the whales, but I am curious.

I suffer from the Law of Inverse Hangovers. About every third or fourth time I drink, the hangover is proportionately more crippling than the other times.

So I'll feel a little queasy the morning after three sensible wines with dinner; bloody unpleasant after a six-pack of Coopers. If the LoIH night has ended with absinth at Pony, then zombie wasps will feed on my brain for most of the next day.

On non-LoIH days, bacon & eggs and an iced coffee will see me chipper as a kipper, even after the night ends with some Green Fairy and a Northcote ciggie. It's become so regular that before an upcoming big sesh I'll try to induce a LoIH just to escape those hours counting pubic hairs on the rim of the toilet.

Do you suffer from this? Does anyone? Have I discovered a chemical phenomenon? Do I get to go to Science Heaven and suck boiled eggs into bottles until the Big Crunch? I do like lab coats, you know.

'Zombie wasps'. Heh. I wish I knew who you were, Marmalade. You have an exceedingly pleasing turn of phrase.


Anyways, I do know exactly what you mean. I suffer from exactly the same thing, though whether this means it's a common occurrence or that we are simply scientific freaks of nature together and best off sent to some dark and mysterious sanitorium to play pinochle and braid each other's hair is a matter for Jesus to decide. One can have a reasonably tepid night in with a couple of highbrow glasses of Pinot and a piano-playing misfit for company and wake up the next morning crawling around on the floor searching for paper-shreds of dignity WHY IS THIS SO. Perhaps it's our bodies trying to tell us to give up the sauce and instead become teetotalling monks with naught but love in our hearts.


Our bodies - naturally - can get fucked.

The Girl Next Door said...
Why does Ms Fits smoke so much? She shoild be setting a good example. Gauloise are the most disgusting cigarettes, they are almost all tar. The French might have better heart health than anyone else, but their rates of cancer and lung disease are horrendous. See what she thinks when she's waiting for a lung transplant at 42.

Boy, this is an endlessly entertaining diversion isn't it?


Me: I've never smoked a cigarette.


Anonymous Commenter: You smoke too much, Smokey McSmokington!!!


Rest of world: Please be informing us when to LOL, etc.



But yes - I'll be certain to have your words of warning ringing in my ears when I'm waiting for a lung transplant at 42. That will certainly show me, won't it? Jesus christ.

Ben said...
Here is the tale: I have always been a fast reader, bulleting through lengthy volumes as a child, amazing (sort of) all with my prowess, etc etc. However, in adulthood I have developed a terrible affliction. I think it's some sort of OCD. I find it unbearably difficult to move forward while reading without re-reading a passage over and over. In particular, when I turn a page, I turn it back four or five times to check what I just read before I move on. So I've moved from being a fast reader to a terribly slow one because I effectively read everything several times, and it depresses me mightily. Has done for years.

Have you ever heard of such a thing? Any idea of what I can do to break this misery? Does anyone? Am I doomed?

Also, why are there no narrative or sketch shows on radio these days? Why can we not devise our own era's Goons?

Oh, and given your remark about thinking of what to write about, I think you should write something about the Christian channel on Foxtel.

See you later.

Dear me, Ben. You poor blighter. Thankfully some other sufferer has come forth to assist you as we are a giving community here:

Anonymous said...

Ben, if you're not joking about this, it does sound very much like OCD behaviour.

I have severe OCD and do exactly the same thing. The other thing driving me batty at present is having to restart each song on my Ipod after listening to a little bit first. Very annoying not just listening to an album straight through.

Anyhoo, been dealing with this for years and chances are you're not being serious anyway. If genuine there's some good advice here:

http://ada.mentalhealth.asn.au/ocd.html

That is incredibly helpful of you, Anon. I would no doubt have said something glib and irritating about sticking to Patrick White novels since over time they generally appear to be repeating the same passages anyway, but in the long run I'm wagering that your advice might be a smidgen more pertinent. The closest I get to OCD is having to pat that little metal dog statue in the city square every time I'm within a fifteen metre radius. If I don't do it things seem terribly off-kilter somehow.


Also:

Ben said...
Anonymous 9:51, no, I promise I'm completely genuine, and thanks very much indeed. I'm grateful to you for giving me a clue as to what's been going on the last five or six years of my life.

More medical miracles performed via Friday q and a. I'm starting to feel I should put some kind of 'please consult your physician' disclaimer down the bottom of the page lest you all go home and start trying to saw your legs off at the ankle to heal your blisters.

Waldorf said...
"...sometimes these sidestep flirtations are just that - pressure-valve releases from commitment and never intended to be seen through." I love that, nice one Fits. It reminds me of the glory days of this blog, back in the day I spent six years at the Age doing as little as fucking possible, ie reading this blog and writing novels.
I too will be at that beach, prepared for neck action but sans Robert Hughes. That said, you smoke heaps? WTF? That shit is old school. That said, I just got back from 2 weeks in NYC and most cool people still smoke over there - actually when you're there you have to check out a club called The Box. That shit has to be seen to be believed.
Okay, q: What do you like most about David Niven's The Moon's a Balloon? I love his army days in Malta!
BTW: Mikeed1313, you suck nuts.

Hold on just one second, young Waldorf. You were in Byron Bay for the writers festival and didn't come and say hello? Shame on you. I was in a most pleasant mood and ready for hijinks. I even climbed up a long hill and strolled around the lighthouse making rude comments about the dolphins. Next time you must make yourself known, please*.


With regard to your question - I've not yet finished The Moon's A Balloon as I've been distracted by work books, but so far I love his turn of phrase, his long and involved relationship with a prostitute who occasionally visited him at boarding school, and the man who loaned me his copy.



*NB I tend to get a little overexcited in these situations, so don't be alarmed if I start squeezing your arm and shouting.

Anonymous said...
I live with activists.

They don't have jobs, but vehemently attend rallies and marches to rail against the use of nuclear energy, global warming etc etc . I truly say 'Good on 'em' for geting out there to wrestle with the media beast and call attention to some very important ideas. However, along with polical dissent, these kids also seem to pride themselves in their humble approach to domesticity. They enjoy 'dumpstering' (ie. scavenging onion and ham pullaparts from Bakers Delight which have been turfed by the teenbaker) and living in humble dwellings, with meager, humble belongings and activity. BUT FITS!!! THE HUMBLE PIE IS BEGINNING TO ROT! I am very angry at them right now because they leave partially eaten hunks of food around, great warm, stinking piles of material rags (clothes I believe they are called), weeveled bags of brown nice, sticky old tahini, and on and on.Think Dicken's adaption on tele, think MY HOUSE.
I think it's plain and utter laziness. I ask them to clean up and they say I'm 'uptight' and 'too obsessed with material goods.' (I of course say nothing, but do occasionally yell into their rooms: 'CAN I BORROW THE PEPPER SPRAY FOR A SEC? WINSTON THE RAT IS TRYING TO EAT MY TOES AGAIN') Now I think that just a very warped sense of humiliy they have going on. I am simply sick of dirty activists.....for gawd sake, a clean set of dungarees/steakknives and a clean, shiny ponytail can only help their causes, right????

Wait just one cotton-picking minute here, Anon. ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT PERHAPS A HANDFUL OF POLITICALLY-MINDED SOCIAL AGITATORS MAY IN FACT BE RESIDING IN AN ENVIRONMENT WHICH IS LESS THAN HYGIENICALLY SOUND ?


Well. I. Never. Did.



Anyway, I can't say I'm all that surprised and nor should you be. They're festy drum-bangers and flag-wavers and 'reclaim the street'-ers; they're far too busy saving the world to bother putting the lid back on the cashew spread or remembering to pick lice-ridden towels up off the bathroom floor. You're really wasting your time leaving primly furious notes for these folk and expecting them to have some kind of DEAR GOD I MUST RUSH OUT AND BUY WINDEX revelation. They strive for a different kind of life-standard to you, and I suggest you either shrug your shoulders and brush the toast crumbs from the remote control, or find some new housemates with equally deft politics but perhaps a rudimentary grasp of broom-handling.

Hellglitter said...
I have been intrigued by Monsieur Mikeed1313’s constant references to the shrine of Ms Fits.

Which got me to thinking, should it one day pass that you are canonized by some delightful nut-job religion what would be the sage and holy advice that you would pass on to the world?

What would be the does and do nots according to Saint Fits?

I’m thinking there might be something a little Catholic about it because then you could still drink wine and have any little boy you like if you follow that religious route.

Also, what would be on your shrine – you know the holy objects - and what offerings should worshippers at the shrine of Saint Fits put before the statue of your fine self?

I imagine your graven image would be with arms akimbo – a drink in one hand, a sex toy in the other - with a very lascivious grin on your face staring intently at the pages of your own personal bible. At your feet a furry Bob Ellis – or can you think of a better image that would also look damn fine as a stain glass window?

That’ll do.

I look forward to other religious mysteries being revealed as the disciples of Ms Fits have another tipple of the holy spirit.

I'm to be canonised? Fucking sweet! Is it inappropriate to wear knee-high boots to the ceremony?


Anyway, if you're after the Gospel According To Me I can really only go with the rules I live by which are basically -


1. Never cross a picket line


2. Eat, drink and live well


3. Read and thou shalt not be a shit speller


4. Littering is for chumpeths


5. When in doubt - jive.




I'm sure there are more but they'll do for starters until I write the Sodom and Gomorrah chapter of my life works which is so rude you will just about die.


If anyone wants to drop random objects at a stained glass window with a picture of me and Bob Ellis on it (nicely done, by the way) I would suggest Kit Kats, wine, fake flowers, Castello cheese and a book of dirty limericks. That should do nicely.

i am not a cinematographer... said...
your email link doesn't work ms fits...and no, i'm a melbourne gal.
living back in wales at the moment.

Ah, apologies. It's reasonsyouwillhateme@gmail.com, though I really am the worst correspondent in the world. There are emails on there of men sending photographs of their penii to be 'rated' which are about twelve hundred years old. I really should get back to them with slow blogging days in mind.

elmo said...
thoughts?

Yeah, you're right. I guess I was looking at it the wrong way when I called Bono a fatuous, egotistical, mealy-mouthed tit. All it took for me to change my mind was a photograph with text that contradicted my previous assumption. WHO KNEW YOUR WINNING ME OVER COULD BE SUCH A SIMPLE PROCESS.






p.s.





x

Catbrain said...
Hello, gorgeous!

Haven't heard your dulcet tones here* for a while... any chance of squeezing a visit into your v.busy schedule sometime soon?


(* Dear Reader, please click the link - the podcasts are certainly worth a listen; plus, I'm moving and need some more furniture for the new place. Ever so grateful. xx)

If they ask me and I'm able, I'll always make the time for the nice Boxcutter boys. It's been a bit of a squeeze the past few months but should they ring on my doorbell once I'm back from overseas I'll be sure to throw myself upon them, cans of Gordon's in hand.

Simon said...
Look, if you're ever swaying completely pissed in front of a bathroom mirror, give this a try for a glimpse of mortality:
Peel back both of the lids (carefully!) on ONE eye. Now rotate your head while looking at the eye. Creepy, nuh? It's an EYEBALL in MUSCLE and SKULL, not your normal friendly window.

I was pitying my damaged copy of Primary Colors this morning and thinking about this- Would you be happy for Kevin to toss all principle to get there? Essentially doing all that whoward has done with non-core, etc to get in? I mean, when does a small target become a buttplug?

Why on earth would I want to do that, Simon? If I'm swaying drunk in front of a mirror I'd much rather mime Bryan Adams' 'Run to You' and do toothbrush calisthenics than check out the inside of my skull, anatomically interesting or otherwise. Gracious.


With regards to Our Kevin (07), I'm not sure I'd be entirely thrilled if he started espousing KKK rhetoric and informing all around him to 'burn the darkie camps down, jah'. I'll cop that he's a rather conservative bean and not quite the breathless social reformer that Sir Gough was when he swept into power, but I live in hope - naively, if you will - that he has some solid brains around him ready to bring him back to earth with a thud should he perhaps lose sight of the greater picture.


I'm not sure I can answer the question 'when does a small target become a buttplug'. It sounds like one of those 'when it's ajar' riddles that I am way too thick to ever figure out.

Tim said...
Going to see anything at MIFF? Remember if you go to see anything at ACMI to yell out "YAY GABI!" if that photo of Mrs Barton-Log filing comes up on screen (my record is six times before one movie last year.)

I saw Sicko and will be going to the closing night screening, though everything else I saw was under 50 minutes as I was a juror for the short film competition and sat through every single entry which was NO SMALL TASK.



I didn't see my Gabi onscreen during the festival, though I caught a glimpse of Mel Whimsy eating an ice-cream during some kind of promo reel and shouted HAY THERE'S MEL WHIMSY which made everyone around me start shooshing very loudly.

Ryan said...
Hello darling Fits, I'm sorry for not corresponding for so long. I've just got a new job in the company and they're actually making me work for a living. Who would have thought...

Plus I was away in Norway the week before last; I think I fell in love at least a thousand times in five days. Plus I may have accidently kissed a Norwegian girl (absolutely gorgeous, mind you) whilst there (sans girlf, who is in Kenya at the moment). Was that bad of me? I didn't have it in mind at all; we'd known eah other for a few days and it just happened. If I claim that I thought it was some local custom and I didn't want to be rude? Is it even worse that I would like to kiss her again? And that I suggested to my boss that he gives me all our Scandanavia clients, so that I have to go over to Oslo every now and again?

I'm slipping Fitsy...I'd been good for 6 months, even when there has been pressure not too (quite often).

She is absolutely gorgeous though...

Anyhow, how are you? Sorry for neglecting you! How's your holiday?

I have a favour to ask (I know, poor form after my recent lack of attention). The brother of my soon to be ex-flatmate (sily boy is moving in with his girlf) is a bass player (preferes and teaches jazz, but also plays with a few bands) will be in Melbourne with The Sunpilots next week playing a few gigs. Any chance of a plug on your gig board? They're at La Trobe Uni on Thurs 8th August, The Esplanade Hotel on the 10th (is that the Espy you keep talking about?) and the Empress Hotel on the 11th...

*Disclaimer: I've never heard them play, so they may be shit. He knows his stuff though. And he's single, ladies, so feel free to throw your knickers at him. Or yourself. But don't tell him I've been pimping him out. Or do, as he might buy me beers when I'm next back in Aus.

Sorry for the long post lovely; I may be back next Easter,and in Melbourne for a few days, so promise I will buy you coffees/beverages of an alcoholic nature and sweet treats should I bump into you to say thank you (I would send them in the mail but the envelopes aren't very watertight...)

Hello, Ryan. Let's tackle your pyramid of queries one brick at a time:


1.I may have accidently kissed a Norwegian girl (absolutely gorgeous, mind you) whilst there (sans girlf, who is in Kenya at the moment). Was that bad of me? I didn't have it in mind at all; we'd known eah other for a few days and it just happened.

It sounds like you may be trying to 'un-bad' it in your own conscience already, you scamp. Just because you 'didn't have it in mind' doesn't mean you didn't stick your tongue in the mouth of someone who wasn't your beloved. And what on earth does only knowing someone for a few days have to do with the price of eggs? If I accidentally forgot to not sleep with someone who I wasn't married to only to later confess to my partner with the cheery excuse 'Not to worry, he was a complete stranger I met in a bar' I'm not sure I'd be let off the hook with a foot massage and lengthy make-out session.


I don't think kissing another woman is the worst thing you could have done, but lack of forward planning and an as-yet-not-on-first-name-basis newfound friendship doesn't quite make it hunky dory, either.


2. If I claim that I thought it was some local custom and I didn't want to be rude?

Now you're just being silly.


*books ticket to Oslo*


3. Is it even worse that I would like to kiss her again? And that I suggested to my boss that he gives me all our Scandanavia clients, so that I have to go over to Oslo every now and again?

It's not terrible that you want to kiss her again, as long as you realise that by casually pulling strings to be in the same space as her you're essentially planting the seeds for a tumultuous love affair and will have to wear the consequences should your Kenyan-based paramour suddenly decide to pay you a visit during a dirty Norsca Fresh weekend. Do you really want to be going down that path, dear fellow? Just think it through.


4. Anyhow, how are you? Sorry for neglecting you! How's your holiday?

My many holidays have been most grand, thank you. I'm heading to the UK with occasional jaunts to Paris, Berlin and Spain in a few weeks so if you can suggest any above-par drinking establishments where they serve donuts please feel free to pass them on.


5. I've missed last night's show plug-wise, but the rest of you feel free to head down to the Espy tonight and the Empress tomorrow to see The Sunpilots. I'll be amongst the teens at Gotye tonight, hopefully holding hands with a rakish rogue during the quiet bits, so I'm afraid I'll miss out...everyone else should feel free to go and indulge in a bit of wholesome knicker-tossing, though.

Anonymous said...
What are your impressions of motor ace?

My impressions? I don't mind what I know of their music, though I'm unfamiliar with the bulk of their work. David Ong is a terribly handsome chap who lives just down the road from me and mutters shy 'hello's each time we pass each other so full points for rock n roll manners.



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Oh! I've finished early. There's still time for me to amuse the builders next door with my patented interpretive dance routine before heading up the road to Carlton and a weekend stretched out with whimsy and music and Neil Young.


Please do leave your queries for next Friday in the comments below, and I thank you - most sincerely - for your patience.





96 days til the next election.