Baby Don't Cry

The role of the 8-month pregnant wife will NOT be played by Lush.

I had my first TV audition today. The audition seemed simple enough - crying on cue. Walk into the room, hit the mark, and breakdown after hearing the news that your husband has been murdered. I practiced in the mirror last night and early this morning - it was believable.

But push came to shove in the room and there I was at 8am and I was not sobbing uncontrollably. Needless to say I am not expecting a call. Damn, I was rather looking forward to wearing the pregnant suit on set too.

Real Life Drama

I've been accepted into drama school in New York City!

Thanks to Sexy Clefty for helping me with my monologue. Why is it in situations like this I always seem to feel like a fraud?

I'm awaiting the official confirmation and visa papers but it looks as though i'll be in NYC this September (assuming I don't freak out and stay in Sydney .)

This move is a mere 6 weeks away.

What the hell did I get myself into and how will I be able to pull this off?

If you know peeps in NYC please contact me as I'll need a cash job as soon as I land. Something to pay my bills through drama school and is flexible.

Why Buy the Cow When...

In my torrid search for new flatmates something off-centre has happened and twice in the same week.

A girl showed up to meet me and check out the apartment. She texted me after saying she was keen to move in so I offered her the room. Okay that's fine BUT the thing is that she immediately started campaigning for my friendship - telling me how cool I was - how we should hang out - go for drinks - asking me if I party - do I want to work on her TVS 31 show?

What?

I thought this was a one off thing and agreed to meet up with her but then the same thing happened again tonight. I offered the room to another girl who also said she was interested in taking the room and she too turned it down but wouldn't let me off the phone because she was telling me how much she wants to hang out with me, go for coffee/ dinner, etc.

What? What?

Seriously - the apartment is fabulous so what the hell is this situation? Is this the Real Estate equivalent of "I don't want to date you let's just be friends?" or am I the slutty extra-realtor affair you are simply not willing to commit to?

Frankly, I really don't know what this means. Actually I do, it means that the hippy is moving in. Sod it.

The Hippie v's the Banker - Game On

I constantly get myself into jams, wonder why, then proceed to ignore the situation I have created by pretending that its not happening. Sooner or later I arrive at a point where I absolutely must deal with it.

For ridiculous reasons that made sense at the time the decision had to be made, I have agreed to allow a hipppie and a banker to move into the apartment . What the gunt was I thinking?

Well, I was loosely following the advice of my current roomie, Delta, who suggested that I not choose potential friends but rather select people who would be easy to live with. I am not one of those 'laid back' people that are described in the sharehouse adverts. I am more like one of those 'eccentric' types some may say 'high strung' but clearly they are the laid back types.

The thought pattern was somewhere along the lines of not wanting to get attached to the new people that would in the long run make it easier for me to leave. With this in mind I went for the quiet, chilled, and bland type of people who are very unlike myslef - in an attempt not to clash of course. What a dumb dumb dumb move this was.

The hippie chick is now constantly calling me asking weird questions about vegetarianism, incense and oil burning, parking and the philosophy of the council on the matter, meditation, the overall vibe of the apartment, and the appropriate hours to play her drum that she insists I won't be able to pronounce the name of.

The banker on the other hand has developed an instant hatred for the hippie who he has never met. Granted this is probably due to my mentioning of the incense burning and even more idiodic mention of the word hippie. IDIOT.

So, we are all having a rendevous on Saturday afternoon at which time a further decision will be made about the suitability of the hippie. What a stinking mess I have created.

Delts - for the love of Sexy Clefty - please stay!

This Song Shits Me

"I wish I Was a Punk Rocker With Flowers in My Hair."

Sandi Thom - do you even know what you are singing about?

Here's a news flash for you:

PUNKS DON'T WEAR FLOWERS IN THEIR HAIR.

I like the tune, I like your voice, I don't mind the song but my issue is that you don't really want to be a punk rocker you want to be a hippie.

Punks are a counter-culture formed in opposition to hippies. Hello? Green mowkawks, safety pins through their faces, black nails, the Sex Pistols, anarchists. Think the true London punks of the 70s, for quick reference even think the "Young Ones" but not for one minute should you think flowers in hair.

Admit it Sandi you really want to be a hippy don't you? It just had too many syllables and you thought that no one would notice if you slipped "Punk Rocker" through. WRONG .