Sunday, May 28, 2006

Delta Pre-Departure Dates

My roomie, Delta, has decided that Sydney no longer blows her hair back and will move to Melboune in July. A big sign to end the lease? I think so.

The best part is that she's taking this opportunity to cash in on all the dates she's been promised over the past year. "Let's give him a call" she says. "He owes me dinner and drinks." Sounds like a fab idea to me so I say.Why not! Throw caution to the wind, Delts. Line 'em up out the door for you 'guilt free no possibility of making a connection or screwing it up' sticky date. She's got two lined up for this week. I'll be on standby just in case it all goes pear shaped. A well timed emergency text or phone call from moi might be in order to liberate her from said date if it's a bomb.

Delta has just whispered in my ear that she will consider all date offers prior to departure. Send me a pic (best to be more than 6ft tall as she is 6ft1).

Good luck Delts!

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Monday, May 22, 2006

Dear Eurovision,

I am eternally grateful to the Eurovision Song Contest for producing such musical heros as Abba and will forever hate it for subjecting me to the musical ferret that is Celine Dion. But this year I am just shocked and confused: a monster-themed hard rock band from Finland?

Surely I am not alone in thinking - what in the munter is going on?



2006 Winner - Lordi (Finland)


Lordi told the BBC, 'This is a victory for rock music and for open-mindedness. This is proof that there are rock fans watching Eurovision. Maybe in the future we'll see rock bands, metal and hip hop'.

Since when did Eurovision become a battle of the hard core rock bands? Don't get me wrong I'm not anti rock but there is no place for this in the purity that is Eurovision.

Yes, okay, it's such a piss take but this whole Monster thing is just taking the piss. It's gone too far and needs to be stopped.

I like to see pop hopefuls battle it out - fake tan, eighties hair, mini skirts, furrowed manicured brows, confused Euro pop diva looks, and sequence a-plenty. It's all so serious and such dirty work.



1974 Winner ABBA (Sweden).


American Idol contestants could learn a thing or two from Eurovision. It's so trashy and it's oh so very good. So good.

More than 100 million peeps tuned in and people from 38 countries voted. But the 51st winner romped in wearing monster masks? Puh-lease! Give me a freakin' break. Where is the glitter, the big hair, the jump suits?

Eurovision get a grip. Keep it real. Revoke this award!


Sunday, May 21, 2006

I See You Watching Me Watching You...

I'm taking stock of my weekend and can't remember if I left the house yesterday or not. Bloody hell that's a bit freaking sad. It all seems to be a bit blurry. Wait - I went for another round of hypno that lasted for 3 1/2 . That's right then I watched a French film and baked some chocolate mud muffins with hot chocolate sauce that were divine.

I'm no longer crushing on my hypnotherapist; my sights are now back on the acting teacher. After closer inspection of my teacher's rugged looks I think that he has a broken nose so he's really "Sexy Without a Clefty." He still has a Joaquin 'the Dream' Phoenix vibe about him. There's something in the eyes that tells me he's slighlty fucked up and a little rough. Yes please! I just those artistic types slightly on the edge.

Last class there was an "I see you watching me watching you" thing going on. I'll be doing my scene from 'Closer' this week. Hot.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Fuck You, That's My Name.

[Drunken blog]
The other actors from class were talking about a scene from "Glengarry Glen Ross." One of the characters asks another character their name and the response is "fuck you, that's my name." I just love this.

It's Friday night. 8.46pm. I'm home alone and already pissed from going to the bar and having quite a few glasses of champagne. I'm really beginning to love the people I work with but the job is pedestrian. My boss told me she want's to contract me for a year but I really don't give a shit, I'm bored and no longer wish to work for peanuts.

My high school friend turned up at the bar tonight, she has just bought a second house with her partner. Reality check: a) partner b) house - 2nd house in fact. What the fuck am I doing?

Oh yeah, I'm am such the drunk dialer or 'trashed texter' to be more accurate. Give me a mobile and a few glasses of vino and I'll show you a nice phone bill for the evening. I like to go international too. I've been texting away searching for answers.

I bumped into another Vipassna person on the way home. That will be the 3rd this year. She was on the bus, hasn't meditated since the retreat, isn't a vegetarian, and was also on a vino buzz. Sweet.

Can at least one man in Sydney who wears an Ohio State shirt actually be Buckeye? All these Sydney guys have such attitudes about it. Hey, if you're sick of being asked about it don't wear the fucking shirt.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

'N' is for...

Here is my first ever tag given to me by sexy Mike.

"This is how it works: Comment on this entry and I will give you a letter. Write ten words beginning with that letter in your journal, including an explanation of what the word means to you and why, and then pass out letters to those who want to play along."

I got the letter 'N' so here are my teN:

Nemesis
Through out my life I have always had a nemesis. I've also always had a crush too one for every period of my life: high school, college, various jobs, share house situations. My most recent nemesis was the drama school freak but since the change to Sexy Clefty's class (aka my new crush) I'm sans nemesis. It's not so bad.

Nuts
Well since I am a cock dodger of sorts, the real life male kind rarely makes a daily appearance. So I like to replace it with other kind of nuts: nutella, peanut butter etc. I'll admit I had an unfortunate experience this year when I accidentally saw my friend's Dad's nuts. Don't ask -- it was in public...

Nice
This is the kind of person I am not. I wish I was but then I think about it and being 'nice' is overrated. I'd rather be described in so many other ways than boring old 'nice.' Neurotic is probably one -- I prefer eccentric but alas it doesn't start with 'N.'

New York City
It's calling me. It's on my mind but I don't seem to be taking any action. I hate being an Aussie with no visa prospects. Maybe I've just seen too many TV shows and movies but NYC screams challenge, opportunity, excitement, new beginnings etc. Part of writing this one is to talk myself into doing taking the plunge.

Noisy Neighbours
I've said this before but my neighbours like to fuck and fuck loudly. Lucky fuckers! I'm an AV girl so that's the audio component sorted. I guess they are doing community service really.

Okay so that's only 5 but i'll keep thinking and add a few.

HNT - Half Nekkid Thursday

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Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Cock-a-Doodle Do Me

I go to his beautifully decorated apartment in the city and we talk for hours. He brings me a drink and listens intently to every single word I say. He eventually draws the blinds and works on putting me to sleep using only his voice then he sits and watches me; the whole time I'm completely relaxed and willingly tell him the answer to a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g he asks. Afterwards he gazes into my eyes and gently brushes a piece of hair away from my face. He kisses me. We're done. I leave the cash on the table and agree to see him next week for another session.

I swear all of the above is true but it's not what you think-- he's actually my hynotherapist and yes he's tres sexy and gay -- so of course I've developed an instant crush.

I've decided that next session I'm going to come clean about my cock dodging ways and see if he can assist me with permanently ridding me of this curse. Using only hypnotherapy - natch.

Someone in my apartment complex isn't dodging the cock. Noisy fuckers... Literally.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Dead Sexy Clefty

.I heart my acting teacher.

He's got some kind of a nose thing going on (broken?) and possibly a cleft palette but I find him to be dead sexy. A beautiful face with scars and a gorgeous voice to match. Hey, the cleft palette thing works for Joaquin Phoenix so why not my hot new teacher aka"Sexy Clefty"?

By the end of the class he'd cast me as 'Anna' in a scene from "Closer." If you haven't read the play, she's the photographer character played by Julia Roberts in the film who's married to Clive Owen and having an affair with Jude Law.

Anyway, I saw a wicked sparkle in Sexy Clefty's eyes shoot over in my direction the moment he declared his love for the word cunt. Some of the other actors weren't such lovers of the 'c' word but it's their loss really. They need to get in a production of the 'Vagina Monologues' or get some hot gay male friends to help them get desensitized and start appreciating the versatility and usefulness of the word 'cunt' for any number of situations.

So, the reason I'm in Sexy Clefty's class to begin with this semester is essentially because I refused to leave.

My name was called out in my original class but I just couldn't handle another semester with a certain classmate. She's was absolutely doing my head in and is psychotic. She says she's 'psychic' but since she also claims that she lost her memory at 12 but now has 360 degree vision, even with her eyes closed, then I don't really think I can trust her understanding of the difference between 'psychic' and 'psychotic.'

Clefty didn't truly appreciate my situation and even after my desperate plea still asked me to go back to the other class but I simply refused and there really wasn't much he could do about it. Before I knew it class had begun, he had cast me as Anna and we were sharing a look from across the room over the 'c' word -- come to think of it maybe he was just thinking that I was a cunt...

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Nudie Knee Highs

Today I'm wearing nude knee high stockings. Okay so the truth is they are more like the kind popular with grannies. I threw them on in a hurry this morning and not noticing they were two different shades:one tanned leg one pale leg. Shite. Ahh amusement for the masses again. Yesterday it was my apple rolling down the aisle of the bus and out the front door.

I've finally got my appointment with the hypnotherapist. Hoorah! It's set for this Saturday and I can't freaking wait. The hypnotherapist I'm seeing, who I met at the 10 day meditation retreat, used to live in LA and work with actors there. Something about finding their mojo again. I hope I can locate mine and send it on its way to NYC (with me attached). Stand by for a full report post my first 3hr session. Maybe he can also help me memorize lines easier. Stand by for full report.

Last post I was considering Boot Camp. What the hell was I thinking? The colder it gets the less appealing it becomes. It's just not really a winter thing to do is it.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Who's the Biggest Loser?

My obsession with the Biggest Loser led to a gym phase (at least my Fitness First membership was no longer acting as a monthly donation)

Personal trainers at my gym were circling gym goers like sharks all of them waiting to prey on desperados like myself. One PT in particular (PT Gal) took a shine to me luring me into a false sense of security. She started with a string of innocent 'chats' I knew she was selling me so resisted.

Last year I had an extremely hot personal trainer who also happened to be an actor/model. I swear I didn't know this when I signed him up but I must say I wasn't dissapointed with his smooth advances. Anyway, this situation ended up with me out with him one afternoon knocking back a few too many vinos. We were supposed to go see a special advanced screening of a film but there was an embarrasing cock up with tickets (totes his fault but I was blamed) hence us ending up in a bar. It was very messy and needless to say I didn't enter the gym for quite some time after that. Shite. He was hearing the sounds of $$ while I was hearing something quite different.

Anyway, last week in my moment of weakness I finally gave in to PT Gal's lure signed up for a 'comp' session which is actually code for 'I will make you feel so guilty that you will have to take me on as your trainer.' I would love to have my own trainer on a daily basis but hello this is real life not Fantasy Lush Land. It was during this meeting that PT Gal revealed that she was actually the ex-girlfriend of the Trainer Model/ Actor guy aka my former PT. Apparently they lived on the Upper West Side together in NYC while he was off modeling.

"Well this isn't awkward at all then is it?" I though. I did my session with her and she wan't that fab so I'm not really wanting to train with her. But bloody hell I do feel guilty since she gave me the comp session and all. Backed into a corner again.

I'm half arsed considering signing up for Boot Camp (3 mornings a week for 4 weeks). It would cost the same as seein PT Gal. Actually, I pretty much know for a fact know that I won't haul my butt out of bed to be anywhere at 6am but maybe now I have a reason.

Speaking of magic, I'm still waiting to hear back from the hypnotherapist I met at Vipassna. Ooh, in that case Boot Camp or PTs won't be necessary at all. Hooray for hypnotherapy!

BTW this is day two on my binge fest bought on my well meaning colleague who left a candy bar on my desk. I was strong for about and hour then gave in. It was a slippery slope from there that later involved many doughnuts. Plus my roomie is selling Cadbury fundraiser chocolates so of course today I decided to donate to the funds three times. On finding this out she has now hidden the chocolate in her room with strict instructions NOT to go searching for them or I will find a nasty surprise. Maybe she has a sneaky sex toy box hidden away somewhere in which case of course I want to know what is hidden in there. It's a dangling carrot really...or chocolate...

It's so Wrong It's Right

Sunday, April 30, 2006

New York, New York

I’ve been seriously considering moving to NYC for a while. Two years at drama school is the plan du jour. It's something i've always wanted to do and never had the guts to do it. I'll have to sell everything (bed, couch, tables, all that apartment stuff), end my lease, quit my job and start again with only two suitcases. That in itself would be fine it's really the whole US visa crap that is the thing that freaks me the most.

I ended up on IM with Cherry last night and had to confess exactly what I was doing : searching Craigslist for marriages of conveniences...Oh save me, save me now!

Australia just has too many bad memories for me and I just can’t shake the feeling that I am in a parallel life to where I should be. Something like Back to the Future part II.

I’m in the process of applying for a new passport (the old one got soaked when I was in Venice back in 2002). Alas, there are not too many jobs wishing to sponsor in my line of work so maybe i'll have to jump right into the US debate with all the other illegals. Gasp* I've been checking out Mimi's article for tips of how to sneak under the radar.

Is anyone living in NYC at the moment?

Friday, April 28, 2006

The Biggest Loser

I walked out on my blog for one reason: I am addicted to the Aussie version of the BIGGEST LOSER!

I freaking love that show. It has consumed my life for the past few weeks prompting me to make my own chart and post it on the fridge and haul arse to the gym between 4-6 times a week.

Last night was the season finale and I sat my arse on my fabulous blue couch. I am in love with Bob. What can I say he's really the perfect man: American, sexy tatoos, a great body, a beautiful accent and is gay. I'm a sucker for what I can't have. I totes want him to be my trainer.

I had a haircut last week and forced my hairdresser discuss the BL with me. Turns out my salon is contracted to do the hair for the contestants for finale. I immediatley whored myself proclaiming how fab I was and why I should be allowed to go along with them acting as an assistant for the evening. No cigar hence my watching the end game from my living room.

Alas, the BL has been replaced with Big Brother and I couldn't give a shit about Big Bruv. It just reminds me how much I hate my fellow Aussies. OK, I'll admit I was addicted to the UK version when I lived in London. But I refuse to be suckered into the world of Big Bruv!

Thank God there is one more Biggest Loser special this Sunday. Can't wait.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Thursday, March 23, 2006

HNT - Interactive

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Vote for your favourite title or suggest one.

1. I've Got an Itch to Scratch (Rocky Horror)

3. Scratch n' Sniff.




Monday, March 20, 2006

A Hickey from Kenickie

St Patrick's Day - the city is dripping with drunken leprechauns who never returned to their offices from that very long Friday lunch. Everyone seems to be getting a piece of ass these days.

Cherry has a hot Italian on her books/ raring to go with the promise of STRONG sex. Shudder with excitement.

MNH had a story to tell me Saturday morning that involved a liplocking.

Poor moi only got hit up by a sweaty old train driver outside the Empire.

Anyway, my flatmate - who was mistaken for Delta Goodrum and will henceforth be known as Delta - got a hickey from a hottie much younger than her.

Now, hickeys are so retro but this guy is a toy boy so I think we can all marvel and flashback to the the surprise hickey one discovers the morning after. I copped and eyeful Saturday morning and Delts was horrified at first but quickly warmed up to her tongue trophy donated by her sexy 19 year old German backpacker.

Really, he is the perfect toy boy accessory for this fall. We've dubbed him 'Hans the Disco Fox.' Apparently the Disco Fox is a cool dance move in his native Berlin but that and a few other things have been lost in translation. I can't even remember his real name but I'm counting on her calling him Hans by mistake in a moment of passion.

I want a fucking hickey of my own damn it!

*Pashed is to make out.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

HNT - St Patrick's Day

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Pic taken from a boozy night in Dublin last summer. Drinking Guiness of course.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Hitchhikers & Magic Kebabs

I had to turn down a hot dinner invite to MNH's place as it was closing night of the Vagina Monologues.

Naturally I felt compelled to join the cast for a few post show vinos and even though I was offered a few rides back to the city I stupidly chose to catch the bus back with another actor. Mistake #1.

We waited...and waited...and waited. No freaking bus.

We examined the time table a little closer only to see the 11.19 bus had a very tiny 'b' next to it wich means that it boards on the opposite side of the road i.e the same bus stop we got off at to go to the theatre (not logical).


So to add insult to injury we had sat watching our bus drive past us. Now that I think back, I swear that bus driver snarled while waving at us. Bastard. We were pissed and we were screwed. The next bus due was at 7.50am. In 8 hours time. I repeat 8 hours!Hitchhiking quickly became our only option.

Arm out, leg arched in true slapper style we thumbed a ride from the first car that came by.

Introducing: Claire and Jeff.

A mid 50s pair of booze hounds who had a heated arguement right in front of us with the windows open. Luckily they finally agreed to drop us in Hornsby. Sounds great? Well, they also explained that they would be avoiding the main roads because of breathalizers. Oh, fucking great.

My fellow hitchhiker, having only moved to Sydney 3 weeks earlier was freaking out and mouthed to me "are you scared?" The only thing that scared me was the freaky Phantom of the Opera sountrack on their stereo. Claire's driving wasn't so bad. I'd certainly been with worse sober drivers in the past. However, none that played Phantom.


Hitchhiker Girl moronically revealed the name of our show. Jeff flat out did NOT approve. It was sour faced cats bums all round and I personally don't think that either of them had had much vagina action in a while anyway. I still had my flaming red lipstick on that served me so well at mardi gras and I'm sure they thought we were a pair of lying slappers heading back to the city.

By the time we arrived at the train station we had missed the last one and had to wait another half hour for the infamous night bus. Lucky for us we spotted a fellow Vagina Monologue actor who pointed us in the direction of the Magic Kebab Shop yonder:$3 Magic Kebabs. Uber bargain.

The owner of the shop's own skinny kebab was a little overactive and the sexual innuendos were flying around. Magic Kebab Owner Guy was offering his 'fresh meat' to me, did I want it 'cut' or on a 'thick slab' and would I like his 'creamy white sauce? Don't worry baby. I'll tell you when it's coming so you can be ready to swallow.'


'Umm, thanks kebab man but, no. Fuck no actually.'

'Oh, so you want to fuck me?' he asked.

At this point Hitchhiker Girl tried the ole faithful 'she's my girlfriend' routine but Kebab guy wasn't buying it and turned his attention to her. It was at that very moment that she revealed to him she was bi. The penny dropped:

Oh God was I on a lesbian date without realising it? Had I initiated this by offering to get the bus with her? I flashed back to the glasses of wine she plied me with. The compliments on my performance. The saving me from Kebab man. The 'missing' the bus!' Did she think that I had planned all this? Had she planned all this?

Oh, fucking fabulous just what I need a fellow vagina after my vagina and a greasy kebab man that just won't quit. I just want to get home into bed sans both of them.

I picked up a couple of college boys to amuse me while waiting outside said Magic Kebab Shop. The bus ride also took ages as we had to make special stops for a blonde broad to puke on the side of the road. She's got a way to go before becoming a fully fledged lush.



Thursday, March 09, 2006

Before Things Got Messy- HNT

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Okay, so these don't belong to me but I'm borrowing them this week for HNT. Yes, that is my vino charged pout on the right next to my former flatmate.

This pic is from an impromptu party we had with the neighbours. The boy-next-door whom we like to call neighbour boy (we still don't know his name) came by with his opera-singer-in-training sister.

It started out as a friendly neighbour thing and ended up rather messy. Having had a few too many vinos I was texting a few SOS messages to my flatmate from the bathroom meanwhile she ended up doing the neighbourly thing, Desperate Housewives style, with neighbour boy.

He moved out soon after that then so did she. It's too bad his sister still lives next door.I used to be fine with opera but once you've heard a trainee singer squarking away at 7am, in the midle of the day and at midnight one's tune quickly changes to hatred.

I doubt I will ever go to an opera again and shudder at the mere sound of her and any mention of opera.

Enjoy HNT!