Friday, September 21, 2007

I Think I Also Need to Join a 'Little House on the Prairie" Addiction Group

Yes, I admit it. I cannot go one day without watching an episode of Little House on the Prairie on DVD.

I hate this show. I hate the goodie-goodie stories and the predictable lines from the characters. I hate the fact that anytime one of the Olesons say something of a mocking nature to one of the Ingalls girls, the response is always, “My pa says… “.

Last night I sat through an hour of Mary Ingalls’ dilemma of her new bloody glasses. I mean, what a waste! She goes blind in the end of the series anyway. I really hate this show!! So why can I not stop watching it? Or better still, why can I not stop buying the show on DVD?

No matter how hard I search myself, I cannot find an explanation for this addiction. It could be memories of a childhood crush on a sweaty Michael Landon, or maybe because I always wanted to be Nellie Oleson (she had the best candy). Maybe it is because it reminds of when I was growing up it was the only show on TV which my dad let us watch.

My dad turned christianity into something similar to a S&M fetish. He controlled everything we did or saw. We were not allowed to go to movie theatres because the same theatres that showed movies such as “Freaky Friday” or “The Sound of Music” were the same theatres that showed porn (I don’t know what theatres he was going to). We were not allowed to dance because dancing promoted sexual activity. TV shows were strictly monitored: The Facts of Life was deemed too racy.

So why, if this was seemingly such a horrible time in my life, do I have a strong affinity for this Little House on the Prairie? They used to air re-runs of it at 9:00 am on weekdays. Of course, being on at the time it was, I could never watch the re-runs as I was in school. Except for those few days a year when snow fell from the sky like manna and school was cancelled. Yes, I speak of the desperately wanted and often illusive snow day.

That special day when you wake up to a blanket of thick virgin snow and as you gobble down a giant bowl of Golden Grahams, you listen to the radio eagerly awaiting the announcer to list your school. Unfortunately, I lived a in a very strict school district and more often than not, the surrounding school districts cancelled their school day due to the weather but not mine.

So when it happened, it was special. My parents would schlep off to work and I would be left to my own devices. I would crawl back underneath the covers and turn on my little black and white television set and watch Little House on the Prairie. Heaven!

So that may just be the reason. I am not addicted to the show itself, but the feeling of happiness it brings to me when I watch it. My own private snow day everyday.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

I Think I May Need to Join Haircut Addicts Anonymous

I knew that I had a problem when about 10 years ago when I lived in Chicago and could not function in life unless I went to the hairdresser at least once every two weeks. During these visits I would confess my sins and it was a lot like going to church only with margaritas and head massages.

I didn’t give her any literal explanations of what I wanted my hair to look like, only short interpretive dance movements, the feeling of which was what I looking to capture with my hair. The first time I gave a description using movement, I extended my arms and made a fluid type gesture of a big jaw biting down on an invisible object. I was also thinking of the colour red when I did this.

She responded with a hearty laugh and said, “You really trip me out.”

But she proceeded to give me a cut which captured the essence of my movement perfectly. In addition, not knowing I was thinking of the colour red, she dyed bits of my hair red. This is when I knew, it was a match made in the beauty school heaven.

When I moved away from Chicago, the biggest loss was her. When I arrived in Australia, I immediately went on a search for a replacement. Every week I went to a new stylist, sat down in the chair, and told them to do whatever they wanted. No one got it right. The closest was a fat drag queen who after three sessions with me left the business entirely and became a bank teller.

So I decided to try the salon next door to the drag queen’s salon. I sat down, told her to do whatever she wanted and at the end of the appointment, she had captured it. Everything about me, my mood, my point in life, my job at that time, the season, the weather, my star sign… Everything was represented in my hair cut. I knew she was the one, and every three weeks for the past four years, I sat down in her chair and let her do her thing.

Last Saturday, I walked into the salon only to be told that she had resigned. I immediately went into a panic and started to hyperventilate. What was I going to do, I had waited 4 weeks for this appointment and I had a photo shoot the next day! They could fit me in for a cut, but I knew it just wasn’t going to be the same.

And it wasn’t. I sat there for 15 minutes while some guy with a waxed moustache talked about his sexual attraction to Hillary Clinton. I love Hillary but…. gross. On top of it all, he gave me a generic cut with no depth or texture. I took it personally.

I have been lost this entire week. But this morning I got a message on my mobile and it was my hairdresser with her new salon number. If you live within a 5 kilometre radius of my house, this morning you may have been awaken by a loud, high pitched- squeal of joy. That was me. Sorry.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

I am the Modern (and male) Aphrodite

My friend just spoke of Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of Love & Fertility (How's that for a business card?). She was born of the sea and everywhere she walks turns into spring and all beings begin to make love.

So I figure that I am a male version of Aphrodite. I am a water sign (Pisces) so metaphorically I was born of the sea. I was also born on the first day of Spring in America... The birth of spring is in my presence. Also, for some unexplainable reason, whomever I am around is overcome with a strong desire to make love.

But the fact of the matter is that most of the time I just couldn't be bothered. I suppose I was the world's biggest tease... I wonder if they make a coffee mug for that one?

In the past, the idea was more alluring than the actual act... or at least the act in it's entirety. It is funny if you think about it, but the act of wooing is all about trying to find out what a person looks like naked and erect, imagining them naked and erect, and touching their naked and erect body. It's hot and turn-on.

Until of course, I unwrapped the paper and saw what those cleverly chosen articles of clothing were hiding! The biggest disappointment in all, was that this person does not have a ten incher like I imagined... well they have once or twice, but then it always smelled awful or went soft. Such is life I suppose.

Nowadays, I do love to have sex with my partner. It is because I so much love him and the package underneath that I can't wait to unwrap him and play like a kid on Christmas morning... He drives me "wild with desire" (and if you guess where I stole (and altered) that phrase from, you'll get a free doughnut*).
* at some point in time, when the Dunkin Donut vouchers come out and I purchase a dozen and you happen to be in my neighbourhood at the same time

Gay Railroad Workers

In the little free moments of this hectic day, I have been on the internet looking up personal stories of people who have come out later in life, usually after marrying the opposite sex and having kids, etc.

I have really only been able to find mostly stories of men who have known throughout their lives that they had an attraction to other men, but for one reason or another, tried to live a straight life.

What I am most interested in, however, are stories of men (or women) who have spent most of their lives in a heterosexual manner, without realising until later in life that they are gay... and if this is actually possible, or they are still in a subconscious mental denial of their past.

Then I came across a statement, from a psychic or tarot reader, who seemed to have an opinion, or at least relaying what they have learnt from gay clients about coming out and being gay. This statement was that reality is based on codes... mathematics, DNA, etc... and that your lifestyle shifts as your codes change.

This person did not go much in depth beyond that. So what I am wondering is if they are insinuating that a person can live a heterosexual life and then one day wake up and be gay, if that is the point which they are at in their genetic "railway track".

Even stating that, on this same theory, a gay man could one day go to bed sucking on some man's cock and then the next morning wake up and only desire wet vaginas?

I suppose that is all very sudden and dramatic and if you look at most spatial or geometric transitions of shape of railroad tracks, they are smooth, subtle and without much "in the moment" notice of a change. This is done to keep the railcars (or us mere human beings) from de-railing.

So in theory, this sexual orientation transition would happen gradually. One would go through an initial stage of "soft" realisations, then more full-on fantasies, to experimentation, to trying out relationships, and so forth.

It is scientifically stated that your sexual orientation is genetic, so does that mean at what point you in life you realise you are gay or straight or bi is genetic as well?

Of course this is all a debate of nature vs. nurture, which opens up another can of worms, and who can be bothered?

Fact of the day: Men produce more sperm when they are in a state of jealousy.

Friday, September 7, 2007

I Always Thought My Life Should be a Musical

I was reading a great blog the other day ( ham & cheese on wry ) and there was a really fun activity listed on there… Creating the soundtrack to the movie of your life.

The rules are as follows:

Open up whatever program or device you use to listen to music (media player, iTunes, etc), put it on random and go through the list below.

The first song that comes up will be played during your opening credits, second song which is played will be played during your wake up scene, and so forth.

Here is the soundtrack to the movie of my life:

Opening Credits: "Angel" Aretha Franklin
Someone is sending for an angel, and here I come.

Waking Up: "Desormais" Charles Aznavour
The title means 'henceforth' but I am not really clear on the rest of the lyrics, I believe it is about revenge in love (the French are always good for lyrics like that). In any case, it is a good waking up song for several reasons, one being the literal 'Henceforth" as in "Henceforth unto the day." The next reason is because it's just a really peppy sounding song and if I actually did wake up to it I would be in a great mood all morning.

First Day of School: "Dancing on the Ceiling" Ella Fitzgerald
No, this is not the Lionel Richie song. Remember that video with all those people dancing on the ceiling? That was cool.

Falling in Love: "Treat Me Rough" Ella Fitzgerald
I don't wish to make an explanation for this one.

Fight Song: "One Night Only (Disco version)" Dreamgirls Movie Soundtrack
This is not the most aggressive of fight songs but just imagine all the great sparkly costumes and fantastic disco choreography! Plus Beyonce would be there… It is going to be the most fabulous fight scene ever!

Breaking Up: "Love for Sale" Ella Fitzgerald
This song just screams "I have been used and abused, but I will keep coming back for more!" …or maybe it is my window media player's way of calling me a cheap puta.

Prom: "I Come From a Land Down Under" Men at Work
This one is especially interesting since I did not go to the prom, therefore this song will not be appearing in my movie. And even though it is a movie and things will be altered to make me look good, I still am not going to re-write my life to go to the prom. The mere mention of a prom reminds me of a picture of my oldest sister at her prom. It was 1985. She wore a pink lacy dress that had a hoop skirt.

Life: "Espabilate" Josephine Baker
Don't you just LUUUUUUUURVE Josephine Baker? I have no idea what the song means. However once I fell asleep listening to a Josephine Baker CD and my entire dream I spoke and understood perfect Parisian French. It was the best dream ever.

Mental Breakdown: "The Half of It, Dearie, Blues" Ella Fitzgerald
To quote a lyric from this song, "You are just a duffer, who makes me suffer." So obviously in my life movie, my mental breakdown will be over some man. I reckon that my real life breakdown will happen when I wake up from a dream and realise that I cannot actually speak and understand perfect Parisian French.

Driving: "Dirty Harry" Bootie Brown/Gorillaz
I don't actually know how this song got in my library, but it has a really funky 70s blaxplotation movie meets Barney Miller feel to it. And of course, after having a mental breakdown, one always goes driving.

Flashback: "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" Johnny Mercer
Yes, I am a loser who listens to Christmas music even when it is not Christmas.

Getting Back Together: "One Way Ticket" Mama Cass
If you get back together with someone, it should be because you love them and they love you and both have placed issues and insecurities aside because you trust and feel safe with that other person. If you get back together with anyone, there is no going back.

Wedding: "You've Got What Gets Me" Ella Fitzgerald
Well, obviously.

Birth of a Child: "Fame" Fame, Original Broadway Soundtrack
Because any child that I spawn is going to live forever and learn how to fly.

Final Battle: "Where or When" Ella Fitzgerald
This song is about déjà vu. So when I make my final battle it will be one that I have fought before but from which I learned nothing.

Death Scene: "Human Behaviour" Bjork
Just seems fitting for a death scene.

Funeral: "By the Beautiful Sea" Some Like It Hot Soundtrack
I think it kind of turns my funeral into something more fun, like a New Orleans funeral only in 1920s Miami.

End Credits: "Ballade No. 2 in F Major, Op. 38" Chopin (composer)
Oh, well. No one stays for the end credits anyway

Go Dive in a Pond

James and I have been doing a lot of renovations to the house since the beginning of the year. With the outside newly rendered and a beautiful new carport now built, the landscaping was looking a bit drab. So when the suggestion was made that we "do something" with the front garden I could only think of two words:

Lily. Pond.

To me, lily ponds are very romantic, soft soothing ideas. They have long been the muse of artists like Claude Monet, whose lily pond inspired a series of larger than life impressionist paintings. Imagine the world without Monet.

A water lily represents purity of heart. To speak religiously in a non-religious way, the archangel Gabriel is sometimes shown to appear before the Virgin Mary with a group of water lilies. To speak spiritually in a non-spiritual way, a water lily represents a self-producing soul, with its seed nestled in the mud of a pond, is awakened by the sun and grows upwards through the illusions of the water to blossom in the free air of truth.

Everyday I will pass the lily pond and be instantly transported into warm days of simplicity and fantasy. I can imagine being in a European garden reflecting at the tranquil beauty of the lily. I will see the frogs rest on the lily pads waiting for their afternoon tea and for that space in time I will cease to exist as myself and disintegrate into the vast being of life.

The Blind Man & The Retard

Last night James and I watched a film called 'Regarding Billy' The cheap cover with it's standard MS Word font text did not promise a well shot movie with terrific acting.

For those of you not familiar with gay cinema, as a reason of low budget, the actors can be of the same quality of your average kindergarten school play. On top of the strenuous acting, the director can try to make it artsy and real. Making use of tight close ups of greasy, pimpled faces and extended pauses.

I am all for real and natural in movies, but only if "real and natural" is obtained with a generous smother of make-up and good lighting.

So the cover of this particular movie did not fill me with hope.

The movie opens with simple shots of a quaint picturesque dock on a grey afternoon or maybe it opened with the title character, Billy, trying to read a book whilst his best friend, Dean, is throwing potato chips in his face (which is an obvious freudian type metaphor for what he woud really to throw in Billy's face).

I can't really remember how the movie opens, and that is not important, the important part is that when we saw the opening scene, it was well filmed, and when Billy and Dean open their mouths, the words sound natural.

Somewhere near the beginning, Billy and Dean are laying down in a tent (Billy reading, Dean doing his freudian toss) and Dean tells Billy that he enlisted in the armed forces for four years and is going to fight in Iraq.

Billy throws a little tantrum, "I'm not going to see your for four years!"
Then Dean says "Billy I want to tell you something... Do you think you and I... Oh forget about it."

Then Billy says," Dean, there is something I want to tell you... I... I... Oh forget about it."

Then skip forward to some indefinate time in the future (four years later perhaps?) and Billy's parents are killed some how. He does mention how they died later on, but I can't remember, it was something about icy water.

Well his parents died and left Billy to take care of his mentally challenged little brother.. I think his name was Johnnie, if not, that is what we will call him as all little brothers in movies are called Johnnie.

There is some dreadfully mundane dialogue between Billy and Johnnie about their parents death. Johnnie constantly asks, "Hey, Billy? What do you think our parents are doing now?"
If you can survive those excrutiating three scenes, then you will get the good part when Dean gets out of the army and comes to live with Billy and Johnnie.

Let's talk about sexual tension!!! I think that there were two further conversations that went the same as the tent chat. "Billy, there's something I want to tell you.... Nevermind I can't." "Dean, there is something I really need to tell you.... but I can't."

In the meantime, whilst they both refuse to admit their gayness and undying love for the other, they are acting like that gayest couple on the planet. Billy and Johnnie are making christmas cookies (Billy is wearing an apron) and Dean comes home from his job on the docks and does all but kiss Billy hello.

Then Billy tells Dean he smells like fish and to leave the kitchen before the cookies start to smell like fish, then Billy and Dean continue to have a flour fight.
Gay. Gay. Gay.

You sit there, going, "Come on! Just tell him!! I want to see some hot naked man sex!!!" but the tension continues.

Well, finally Johnnie goes out to a Christmas Party at the local sped house and it is a boys night in for Billy and Dean. Billy brings home pizza and beer. OK so it is at this point that I think, "Oh goodie, they will get drunk, have some drunken tense moment where they look into each others eyes and finally someone will make a move!!"


Instead Dean says he got blown up in the war and is going blind.

Well then something or rather happens and Billy says to Dean, "Dean I really need to tell you something... But I just can't"

My god! This is just as frustrating as when The Nanny was on TV and I missed the episode when Mr. Sheffield told Fran "the thing", and every episode that followed mentioned "the thing" but never said what "the thing" was and I was holding out for weeks to find out what "the thing" was. It was a lot like that.

Then Billy repeats the above statements and Dean says, "Billy, its me, you can tell me anything, tell me"

And then Billy says" I can't... I can't... OK. Ever since you've come back.. I... I... have been having these... feelings for you... and I have had them for a long time."

Dean stands there in shocked silence.

Billy stands there shocked, but not in silence. He says, "But I don't want it to ruin our friendship."

Dean stands there a bit longer in shocked silence. Then lunges at Billy and gives him the juiciest tongue kiss you can imagine.

Billy stands there in shocked silence.

Then Dean says, "I have always loved you!"

Then they kiss.

The next scene begins with the camera panning down from a fire place to some pillows on the floor to Billy and Dean's heads then a full body shot... Let me repeat that.. A fully clothed body shot.

They were lying in front of the fire hold hands and talking... yep, I said "talking". The man you have been secretly pining for, The man who is your best friend, The man you love almost more than anything else in the entire world, just told you he loved you too, and they just lay holding hands?

You would imagine that after a lifetime of hidden love, you would want to kiss, hold, caress every inch of your love's body. naked body. Not in a skanky let's fuck sort of way, but in that, I have wanted you to be with me my entire life and now I want to explore every bit of what we couldn't do before kind of way.

I suppose it was sweet. However as a veiwer, they are two good looking fellows and it would be nice if we would have seen at least one ass shot.

The final scenes are the clinchers. Johnnie makes ornaments from Christmas cookies every year. One to represent him, Billy and their parents. This year, he also makes one for Dean and his parents (who are dead as well) so that Dean's family becomes part of their family. Then Dean gives Johnnie his dog tags. The whole time, Billy is looking on at Dean, and in his eyes are full of love and touched by the whole scene, his face says, "This is way I love you."

Movie ends.

It was heartwarming and I am no worse off having seen Regarding Billy. James thinks that Billy is stupid, he will be stuck taking care of a blind man and retard for the rest of his life.

Don't know if I would want to see that sequel.

To steal the words of a friend, Regarding Billy did not "rock my pussy" but it was just a sweet film about love and family.

I Can't Believe It's Butter

I hate Australian sandwiches.
This is the general construction of sandwich in Australia:

Layer 1: slice of bread.

Layer 2: butter.

Layer 3: One slice of meat.

Layer 4: Lots and lots of "salad".

Layer 5: more butter.

Layer 6: slice of bread.

My first issue with the good ol' Aussie 'sambo' is this:
One slice of meat?!? Who is one peice of meat sandwhich supposed to satisfy? How stingy can one get?

The second and more confrusting is the sandwich is constructed on slices fo buttered bread.... butter on a sandwich... Can you imagine anything less necessary?

The Australians, and one can only assume the British, have an odd habit of smearing butter all over a sandwich. Order a Ham Sandwhich and there is butter on it. Order an egg salad sandwhich and there is butter on it.

When I left my previous place of employment, I was thrown a "leaving-the-company-for-a-better-job-so-let's-all-pretend-we-got-along-and-will-miss-each-other" party. To honour my american heritage, someone made Peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, with grape jelly.

Now the grape jelly may not seem like a big deal to anyone who is living in the US, but it is next to impossible to find grape jelly in Australia. Why? Beats me. I suppose they use all of the good grapes to make wine, and all the reject grapes to make sub-standard wine for export to America.

So needless to say, I was deeply touched that someone had taken all of this thougt and effort to make Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwiches with Grape Jelly for my LTCFABJSLAPWGAAWMEO party. So I energetically bit into the sandwich only to discover a layer of butter between the bread and grape jelly AND a layer of butter underneath the blooming peanut butter!


Believe me when I tell you that butter does not add any flavour to the sandwich! You do not even know it is there until all of your sandwich innards slip out from between the bun!
Putting butter on your sandwich is only wasted calories and fat for little return.

Why not use lard? That would give my ass the same amount of jiggle as butter AND contribute to the taste of the sandwich!

While I am on the subject, how do you even spell 'sandwich'?

wait... what?

I am not big fan of a certain "musician" Nelly Furtado. But that latest song she has out is catchy.

It is almost like Kylie Minogue reject song. This morning on the way to work I actually listened to the lyrics:

"Dogs were whistling a new tune
Barking at the new moonH
oping it would come soon so that they could

WHAT?? What the hell does that mean?

Aunt Bertha's Blue Ribbon Pie

It is the first day of a new week.

Not really of much importance, but the sentence somehow is full of hope and looking upwards towards the future, almost in a "world war two soldier propaganda poster" sort of way.

In light of that spirit of opportunism, I have decided that I shall make self predictions of the week ahead:

Prediction 1 - I will get upset that all my socks have disappeared and will end up wearing the same ones for at least two days in a row.

Prediction 2 - I will drink approximately 7 cappucinos.

Prediction 3 - I will eat spaghetti bolognese at least once.

Prediction 4 - I will drink approximately 18 scotch & sodas (keep your fingers crossed this one comes true).

This upcoming Saturday I will be having a Christmas in July party. I have not made any plans for food or invited anyone as yet, but I have set a date and told the family that we are having an X-mas in July party then. I have also did a "test-bake" for a lemon meringue pie.

Let me tell you! Lemon meringue pie may appear to be simple, but it is NOT!
Don't believe those bitches that tell you, "Oh that's easy" and then give a little smirk. Just thinking about that smirk makes me want to smack them.

First you have to make the pastry, then refrigerate the pastry, then roll the pastry and some how manage to get the pastry from the counter into the pie dish without breaking, tearing or crumbling the dough. Then you have to pinch the edges. My mum does this and makes the pinches look appetising, my pinches however resemble something similar to the tip of Micheal Jackson's nose.

After pinching little noses into the pastry, you have to bake the pastry. Whilst the pastry is baking, you need to squeeze a bunch of lemons, and boil lemon juice, flour, corn starch and more sugar than you want to admit to putting in.

This all sounds easy, right? Well, as you may be aware freshly squeezed lemon juice can have seeds. You spend several minutes, picking out the "floaties" with a tiny spoon and give a great big shout out when this task is complete. This moment of happiness is of course a false confidence because after you dump the jug of juice into the pan, there are about 100 big seeds which were hiding in the bottom of the jug that are now mocking you as they make a bed in the gooey concoction!

I am not about to go digging the seeds out of the mixture, so I just stirred them into the other ingredients. That is a secret between the two of us, and gratefully nobody noticed or chipped a tooth when tasting the pie.

So the mixture is boiling and I took my eyes of it for one second, I barely had enough time to pour a drink, light a cigarette and send some text messages, before the stuff started burning!

Well, I figured it was done, so I grabbed a big spoon and give it a good stir to mix the brown burnt bits into the attractive yellow bit, to make a deep yellow.
Now you have to send that aside to cool and make your meringue, also at this point, you should have taken your pie pastry out of the oven. That part is important to remember, because as I have discovered, a pie pastry is not like toast, you cannot just scrap the black part off with a knife.

As for the meringue, despite the occassional egg shell, is actually very simple (insert smirk here).

There are some other things that you have to do to finish the pie, but they are not exciting, so let's skip to the good part. I had some people taste it. The kids liked the meringue, but no the lemon part. But they are kids, what do they know for taste?

Despite the kids not liking the lemon part, the adults loved the whole pie! The only problem is that all of the adults who tasted the pie are coming over for X-mas in July (once I send out the invites anyway). So of course, now that they have already had the pie, I cannot serve the pie at the party.