Baby's Got Back

It's no secret that I'm on an eating plan AKA "loose your ass before next year so you can go to NYC and rule the world plan."

I was sticking so closely to it for 3 weeks then broke on the long weekend. It was a lovely sweet pastry that started it and a slippery slope from there that included a schnitzel but I'm back on it now.

I'm in the process of figuring out what food I can substitute for wine. Surely I can do a cheeky switch dependent on calories. Just skip a meal right? I'd be willing to have a glass of wine in place of say 2 apples.

Save the Dates

There's something about public holidays where I end up searching personal ads on the net. It's Labour Day and once again I've been lured into www.RSVP.com.au

I usually end up spending hours assessing profiles of eligible men who I'll never contact. I'll add a few to my hotlist - get quite addicted - and burn out after a few days. I've got a profile and all but it's not visible. I've had it up before but thought it wrong since I never contacted anyone back. I like to fly under the radar.

I even had a profile on J-Date which is ridiculous since I'm not Jewish. Naturally my preference was for New Yorker men. Yeah - that wasn't a success for obvious reasons.

Do the Bus Stop

I've had quite a few public transport tales over the years but this one is rather interesting.

I was riding the bus yesterday and the bus driver pulled over on the 16 lane freeway. He stood up the front of the bus and announced that the bus was alost out of petrol and to board the bus in front?

What ? I've never come across this before. Hello - a little preparation please.

Farewell My Gucci

For two weeks I have been ponying about town feeling fabulous due to the new addition to my wardrobe: hot Gucci shades. It just feels like more people are looking in my direction when I'm wearing the dark masters.

Yes, it might well be because they are covering the majority of my face but whose to judge the much needed male attention? I'll take it as it comes thanks.

I'll level with you: I tend to lose sunglasses, scratch them, or break them. This time was meant to be different. I promised myself to keep the man magnets in the case when I was not wearing them. Till yesterday I succeeded.

This morning in my usual mad rush out the door I couldn't find them. The penny dropped. They are lost.

Why sacrifice the Guccis? Why not take something less essential?

I still hold a glimmer of hope that they will show up. I'll start calling around a couple of bars I was at last night. Meanwhile some lucky punter is probably ponying about town in my shades...

Love Chances Love Shmances

"Around September 19 your love chances soar. " Sweet - "thanks www.Cainer.com" I thought to myself then glanced over at the calendar only to see that the 19th is today!

Well, those chances suddenly took a massive nose dive. Considering I was sitting at my desk shoveling down a Jenny Craig's microwaved shepherd's pie at that exact moment (it was only 3pm, I was alone in the office, and was now polishing off the last of my allowed food for the day.) I thought those chances remote.

It's day 8 of the new JC 'eating plan' after a long winters food fest. Stay tuned top see how far I make it.

Now back to bit about love chances - there is one contender: (isn't there always?) He's my new radio teacher. He'll be the only male I'll be coming across today (no pun intended) unless I want to count the randoms on the bus (and frankly I don't want to count them.)

Anyway, I'm not sure if I actually like Radio guy or if it's just a proximity thing. He does have a hot voice as required for the radio biz I'm sure. He's a baldy but I like it. The thing is - he used to be a vegan and is now a strict vegetarian so I think that's an automatic rule out. I once had a friend who wouldn't date a guy if he owned a cat or was vegetarian. Thoughts? Although, I am on Jenny Craigs so who knows what he's thinking anyway.

What do you suppose it means that he sent me an e-mail today about Tom Cruise being gay?

Hello Possums

Caught in the act- well not quite - enter the resident possum family. These litte buggers live in the palm tree behind my back balcony. The late night visitors love to play tricks on us. Their favourite is sneaking into the apartment and chowing down on our bananas.

I have to admit they are very neat and leave the skins in a neat little pile on the bench top. They also like running along the fence in the middle of the night.

Shaking the Maracas

The crotch watching event of the year is here (bar Mardi Gras - natch).

Tonight I will be zeroing in on the tight white pants painted on Hugh Jackman who will frolic around the stage.

Don't despair - I'm leaving nothing to chance and will be there binoculars in hand with my eyes on the prize.

Yes, it's all very gay and frankly that's the way I like it.

Champers all round please!

Cock or Sock?

I got 8 out of 10 correct!

http://www.cockorsock.co.nz

Speaking of I'll be getting an up-close and personal look at Hugh Jackman this week when I go see the "Boy from Oz." Tres excited about seeing him leap about in those tight white pants.

Spanish GYCO

Today was the Spanish Quarter Festival in Sydney and I have to say I am loving Spanish men at the moment. Absolutely adoring the cute accent - just sounds better with the lisp.

I sampled some Spanish sausage (not the kind your thinking of), sipped sangria and admired the sights. Yes, there were a few Gael Garcia Bernal look-a-likes. Yum.

(Cher forget the Italians- were going to hit up the Spanish Club when you get back.)

Spring is in the air and it's GYCO season.

I'm going to sleep while this is all fresh in my mind.

Good Head for Radio

New York has been postponed so I'll continue as a Sydney resident for the next year before jetting off to my new and fabulous life in NYC.

Big changes have happened during my hiatus and I've chosen to go multi media (it was an obvious next step really.)

Be prepared for a hot radio show starting in the next few months. Pre-production is under way and word is that Ms Cherry Banchele will be joining me on air upon her return to Aus.

Stay tuned

MIA

Currently MIA. Will be back once I've located amongst the clusterfuck.

Standby

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 .

Red Card - I'm Out

Sexy Clefty,

Even though I saw the signs, I refused to believe it was true but now I know. I got it - Loud and Clear. "You are just not that into me."

The red card you gave me last night was harsh but inevitable.

Yes, I still think you are amazing but I'm not going to pretend that my freshly manicured nails and I aren't shattered. We are.

I will get over this and when I do we'll cross paths again at which time I hope you eat your heart out.

Achtung Baby!

Sexy Clefty you have officially earned a yellow card for your performance or lack there of on Saturday evening.

You have one chance to redeem yourself on Thursday.

I'm not just 'holding hands' with this idea of a date I intend to 'shag it'. Your words - not mine.

Please know I have a time limit on the amount of time I can work on you. Stop playing with me and give it up.

If I do not get an indication from you on Thursday you will be awarded a red card and can fuck off!

Love,

The Venomous Bitch

Confessions of a Clusterfuck

The story of the personal trainer just doesn't seem to end.

One of my old crushes seems to have surfaced in a very public way. My former personal trainer, who I was totes in love with, has landed a job on an evening Aussie soap. It was bad enough when he was on commercials and I had to watch him being the Solo man but now he'll be on a nightly show for Australia and the UK to view. It just seems cruel.

I may have already told you the tale of the unfortunate event of the ticket debacle that ended up with me drunk in a bar in Paddington with him and his acting teacher. In short I was a bitch and still feel bad about it. So I did the only thing possible: avoided him at the gym. Quite a few months later I chose another personal trainer. This time I carefully selected a female to avoid another messy scene. Wouldn't you know that the person I chose was his ex-girlfriend who he lived in NYC with for a year while going to acting school and doing modelling. Ha ha go figure.
I'm sure ill probably have another encounter with him in the years to come.

In an effort to have good karma I sent him a little congratulatory e-mail but I'm not holding my breath for a response. Thank God his number has been deleted from my phone, I just can't be trusted. ...

Aww, he is rather charming and good looking. Best of luck hottie.