The Year That Was…2015

To put it bluntly, 2015 was the year that pushed me down, and then kicked me, while I was still down and then just as I was starting to pull myself back up again it decided to throw me back down again. It doesn’t sound like a pleasant experience and to be honest, those parts of it really were the worst I have ever experienced – without being dramatic, it was the toughest year of my life. That being said, it was also the greatest year of my life with more high points than I can even recall. I learned that true, all encompassing happiness and joy can only be experienced after you’ve reached the lowest of lows and strangely enough, I am incredibly thankful for the pain that I experienced this year because if I hadn’t been through that, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate all the good times like I can now. That’s not to say that there are things I wouldn’t change – I would give anything to have Rikki back in our lives but I don’t think I really knew the true value of life until I had to say good bye to her. Losing her has taught me a lot – thanks to her I have learned to make the most of life, not to waste time on the bullshit stuff and the bullshit people, to appreciate every wonderful moment and amazing person and to share positivity and not be bitter and negative.

Beyond all the serious stuff, this year has taught me some other great lessons;
Make time for baths – and if your house mate is away, watch trashy TV whilst in the bath!
Don’t put up with bad sex (sorry Mum, I know you’re reading this…) but seriously, it’s not worth anyone’s time!
Eat ALL the brilliant food (but also go to the gym, preferably dance classes and it does not matter if you are super unco)
Do what you love and chase it with a fervent passion – and if you don’t know what it is that you love to do, FIND IT. Why waste your life waiting for an opportunity to present itself?
Say ‘YES’ to crazy adventures – I know I’m starting to sound like an ‘inspiration calendar’ but it’s ‘YES’ that caused me to dance in the mud all night in the cold of winter with some excellent people, ‘YES’ meant that I was half way up a mountain at 3am in a castle singing at the top of my lungs (and drinking red wine from the bottle) and ‘YES’ allowed me to do more writing and more comedy – which as I’ve discovered is the THING that I LOVE! (Finally, I think I’ve found it!)
Live your own life – take good advice but ditch the useless advice. I was given some shitty advice from people who turned out to be not so good at different times this year. Needless to say, they are no longer in my life.
In contrast, surround yourself with rad folks. This year I’ve had the support of some amazing people in a range of different ways – shout outs to my whole family who have been there every step of the way and the amazing beautiful Gaskin – Rollins Clan who are some of the strongest and most beautiful people I’ve ever met – your bravery through adversity has truly been an inspiration. Special love to my excellent brother – I love you more than I can express – and Ma and Pa too (you guys are crazy dream chasing nutters).
Stacey – you are one tough cookie, your grace and strength to keep on keeping on is amazing.
Sophie Miller – 2015 brought you into my life good and proper and I couldn’t be more thankful. As much as we drive each other crazy, you are a constant source of encouragement and creative inspiration and I love that you’re always up for a good bitch session – plus super talented and an absolute babe!
Mark & Chris – you get a mention together because you are awesome in many of the same ways – and basically you are a brilliant package deal!
Josh Cruse – thanks for being rad and my first comedy friend, I’ll never forget that!
Moe – My best Moe, Moe of honour, a constant friend who absolutely kicked 2015 in the dick, achieving all sorts of brilliant things – Runner Up Rural Ambassador, El Presidente – what what?!
Brittany – absence makes the heart grow fonder and I miss you a butt load, you rad chick!
Emmica – The girl who magically knows just when to check in on me and say exactly what I need to hear! Thanks huni!
Hannah W –To think you still put up with me after all the crap I put you through as a kid! You don’t have to marry my brother; I’ll still let you be a part of my family!
Bec Taylor – You are just such a beautiful, bubbly ball of positivity and an excellent hugger!
Linda Hamley – for being and excellent sounding board and a great example of how to soldier on.
Basically ANYONE who I’ve met through comedy this year – I actually cannot express how much happiness I have gained from doing comedy and just generally being around these people – you all the raddest.
My crew of awesome cousins – you guys rock! Especially Sean (who brought me a birthday cheeseburger when I was hung over as all hell and crying like a little bitch at episodes of Parks and Rec), Emma who is absolutely HILARIOUS and will probably be a better comedian than me (Emma, you are very ‘seductive’) Chelsea whose love and compassion for others and ability to know the right thing to do and say is inspiring and Russ who is always there to talk shit with when needed!

Sorry if I have forgotten anyone – you probably were amazing and please do share excellent memories of the year!
Finally, before I go I must say that I am certain this year will finish well because…look what I scored when hung-over / sleep deprived shopping this morning….HAPPY 2016 EVERYONE!


How to Have The Best New Years Eve Ever



Every year, every damned year, the anticipation builds, the invitations start to roll in and you think to yourself; “I’m going to make this the best New Years Eve ever”.

Best. New. Years. Eve. Ever.

And it never happens, does it? Well I hate to say it — but the most overrated night of the year for most has never been that way for me. I don’t mean to show off but I haven’t had a bad New Years that I can recall. Sure, I can’t recall all of them clearly but I distinctly remember fun was had. Yes, a twenty-something part-time comedian / part time wine taster (read: goon connoisseur) whose idea of a well balanced dinner is budget dips and cheese might not be the person you should logically take advice from, but seriously, since when do ‘logic’ and ‘fun’ go hand in hand? And with that in mind, ladies, my advice to help you have The Best New Years Eve Ever. You’re welcome.


Read the rest of the article at the following link;

Why Christmas Proves That I am a Shit Adult

Being an adult is tough. The thing that is even more difficult though, is realising that although you might tick many ‘adult boxes’ (not a sex thing, I mean ‘receives bills (paying them is questionable), holds down a steady(ish) job, understands (but doesn’t always acknowledge) the affects of alcohol’) when Christmas rolls around, all your adult talent goes out the window – well mine does at least. The festive season reminds me, every bloody year that I am still and will forever be in many ways a child. People tell me that when I have children of my own, all that will go out the window and it’ll be ‘all about the kids’ – however these people clearly do not know me well enough. For one thing, I don’t think that birthing a poop producing, money draining brat would have the desired effect of forcing me to grow up – it would probably have the opposite and I would revert into being a child myself but secondly, who says that I will have kids? I’ve been told that I’d be a ‘fun mum’ – but a fun mum does not necessarily make a good mum…so I’ll certainly consider skipping the whole parenting thing for a while – until at least I get better at tying my own laces that is.
What are the things that have convince me every year at Christmas that I am a terrible adult? Well I’m glad you asked!

Christmas is a time for abusing animals. I was very hungover in this picture and would go on to get drunk later that day. I was twenty one. I had temporary tattoos of pirates on my arm because…drunk fun.

Advent Calendars
My Mum still buys me an advent calendar every year. Not because she wants to necessarily but because every year sometime in the middle of November I leave her subtle reminders to do so. And by subtle reminders I mean I set an alarm in her phone, there’s a note on her calendar and I’ll just come out with a verbal reminder in our weekly phone conversation. Without fail, an advent calendar appears prior to December one. “But Alicia” I hear you say, “Your mother is aging (soz ma) and will someday die” – yes it is a sad fact and one which I have of course accounted for. I am going to ensure that my Mum organises to send me an advent calendar beyond the grave every year. We live in a wonderful modern internet filled world – surely she can set up a payment and delivery plan with some website thingymagiggy?

This photo was taken when I was a ninteen year old Christmas elf. Look at that glitter. And those over plucked eyebrows – WHY DID NOBODY STOP ME?!

Christmas Decorations
I love Christmas – the glitter, the tinsel, the sparkles in general but one thing that I truly and wholly believe is that purchasing your own decorations is a move just as adult as buying shares in a company not just for novelty purposes. It’s way too real. For this reason and this reason alone I only have decorations in my house that have been…shall I say…organically acquired. Stolen. All my Christmas decorations have been added to my home after previously belonging to pubs, bars or relatives who I just didn’t care much for. This is a lesson in why ‘fun mums’ don’t always make ‘good mums’ because I developed this habit after years of watching my own mother bring home new decorations after drunken evenings at Christmas functions so I guess when I finally do get in trouble or caught out, at least I have someone else to blame?

Twenty-one? I’d been at a 70s themed party. Without a doubt I was beyond classy drunk.

Christmas Food
While all my ‘adult’ friends have this thing that they like to call ‘will power’ (or as I like to think, they’ve just lost their sense of fun), I have none. Come Christmas time, nothing excites me more than those gross lollies that only come out once a year – in the shape of Santa, made of a hard marshmallow consistency and about as tasty as coloured cardboard – you know the ones. On top of that, I love candy canes, eggnog and I’ll never say no to chocolate coins – even if the chocolate that they use is the literal worst. While all my friends – and most of the white western world are saying no to sugar, all I can think about is getting my Christmas hit because isn’t that the reason for the season?!

Another taken when I was about nineteen. Definitely NOT red cordial in those drink bottles.

Christmas Carols
When you are a child and you have a terrible singing voice, people call it cute. You sing at the top of your lungs and it fills you with joy and happiness however as you age and become more self aware you realise that no longer are you cute. People block their ears when you fill the room with your rousing rendition of ‘Silent Night’ that is, in no way, silent. You retreat, you stop singing for the most part and of course never ever for the love of God do you sing in a public place. You have too much self respect. Me? I missed that phase of my life – not that I have a good singing voice, I’ve just never been ashamed of it. I’m that girl in the toiletries isle at the supermarket singing loudly along to Wham’s timeless hit ‘Last Christmas’. You wish you could be me.

A more recent photo – twenty three I think. Of course there’s wine in my hand. When will I fuckin learn?

Unwrapping Gifts
I LOVE buying presents – I enjoy the challenge of finding the perfect gift for someone and seeing (hopefully) the look of joy and wonder on their face when they unwrap it – mushy, I know. More than that though, I love receiving…presents that is. I’ll rip off that wrapping paper, making a monumental mess of the effort that my friend has gone to in getting it properly wrapped. What the fuck else am I supposed to do though? Gently unwrap the paper and save it in my craft box for the scrap booking obsession that I’m sure to acquire when I give up on hope, life and happiness? Sure, something like that. Get fucked. Christmas paper was mean for ripping to shreds – and then placing in the recycling bin like the good little environmentally aware gen-y that I am.

Worked in the Magic Cave. The following year TWO Santa’s lost their jobs for inappropriate touching of Children – CHRISTMAS SPIRIT PEOPLE.

See why Christmas proves that why I can’t ever be a proper adult? I’m sure I’ll recall plenty more reasons over the coming days as the season gets into full swing but hey, I’ll probably get too drunk and forget to write them all down! Merry Christmas Bitches. xx

P.S I think maybe you realised that this post was a partial excuse for me to share photos of Cute Christmas Alicia either hungover or drunk from years past. YEAH – I used to be skinnier and had nicer hair, so sue me.


My Love Letter to Our Street of Shame

Oh Hindley, you’re the street version of that boy our mothers warned us about; you know, the one that rides a motorbike and is completely covered in tattoos? I mean, I’m sure that he’s a lovely guy, with plenty of great redeeming qualities but on the surface he’s got trouble written all over him!
As a child I was told to stay away from you, words of advice which stayed in the back of my mind through my teenage years, a time in which doing what my mother told me to do was the exact opposite of what I would do. During days which I perhaps should have been in school, my friends and I would wander along your streets with a bounce of rebellious joy in our step, however I was a good girl and waited until I was legally old enough to pay you a visit after the sun set – though I’m sure that I am not the norm! There are so many reasons to love you (and probably more reasons to stay away) but let’s today, agree on ten reasons why I love our street of shame… sure, we all know that you’ve stepped up your game lately, bringing some class to town in the form of your brother and sister streets, but today I want to send all of my love, personally to your filthy self.


  • A RITE OF PASSAGE: Any Adelaidian worth their salt has trod Hindley’s somewhat grubby path at some point or another, sometimes more frequently than others and as we grow up a bit, probably only on the odd occasion. Okay, it hasn’t always been a smooth relationship; there have been mornings after the night before in which I can personally blame Hindley for the terrible feeling that left me stuck in bed –making frequent friends with that emergency bucket that everyone keeps in their laundry. We’ve all been there – right?!
    I like to think that those days are in my past, the days when I could be enticed through a door with the promise of $3 vodkas, not even giving credence to the idea that the alcohol content was probably less than what you can find in a bottle of food colour – though sometimes the idea of taking advantage of those kinda drink specials is pretty tempting. Can you still even get a drink for that much? Shows how long it’s been since I dropped by Hindley I guess!
  • NEVER A DULL MOMENT: We’ve all got stories to tell – if we can remember them! I’ve got a mate who got kicked out of The Dog and Duck for taking off his pants on the dance floor; according to him he was helping out some ladies on a Hens Night, they had been tasked with collecting a pair of men’s underwear at some point in the night. They managed to get them before he was evicted, though – and props to those flirty minxes, I’m sure they tried plenty of blokes who had more sense than my buddy before they found him.
  • THE GREAT EQUALISER: I’ve seen beautiful girls eat pizza they found on the floor of Australia’s Pizza House (I can promise, as much as I love food, this definitely wasn’t me!) and probably those same girls, struggling to find a bathroom get creative and use a gutter. The guys aren’t exempt here either; let me repeat, a gutter is never an okay toilet option, regardless of gender. Unless you’re on Hindley, I guess? No, it’s probably still not okay. My point here; Hindley can make even the beautiful people into an embarrassing mess, and as someone who feels like an embarrassing mess most of the time, I say thank you.
  • YOU MAKE ME FEEL CLEAN: Okay, hear me out, I know you’re thinking; “How can one feel clean when immersed in such filth?” well it’s all about perspective dear friends. In comparison to the grime on Hindley, my own messy abode seems like a designer home you’d find in a magazine spread. I’ve visited Hindley on Saturday and Sunday mornings– for various work related activities (completely above board, trust me!) and the stench it produces is almost unfathomable. There are probably sewage plants that smell of roses in comparison, and since my own home has never stooped to this level, I can at least feel better about myself!
    I have a theory – if Hindley Street were a girl, she’d be Kim Kardashian; everyone is always talking about her (though not necessarily in the best way) – but at least everyone has a story to tell about her. If Hindley was a guy though, he’d definitely be one you’d stay away from, for fear of catching something that you’ll never be able to rid yourself of…
    Boys and girls alike may recall (if they can remember at all, you’ve been known to cause people temporary amnesia it seems…) being lucky enough to score their first kiss when frequenting one Hindley Streets venues – and though I hope most people have better memories of their first kiss than that, but well done for making dreams come true – I guess?
    Surely we’ve all had a fantasy about meeting a sexy cowboy, right? Hollywood has shown us a skewed version of reality and much as Hindley tries to make our dreams come true by bringing the country to town at The Woolshed, surely I’m not the only one whose woken up to realise that that sheep tag covered akubras aren’t as sexy as they seemed on the haze of the dance floor?
  • YOU MAKE ME SWEAT: And not because the heavy police presence makes me nervous, or because many of the cops on the beat are damned fine (and who would say no to a man in uniform?!) but because I can always find a place to dance when I visit Hindley! Dancing can burn up to 500 calories per hour (so the Google machine tells me…) and I can only assume (because I’m not an expert in any field what so ever) that doing it in heels burns even more. Add to that the walks between multiple venues and you’ve got yourself an intense workout – just ignore the fact that you’re consuming empty calories all night and you can basically consider yourself a fitness guru, update your career status to ‘fitness blogger’ ladies because you know everything there is to know about working it out!
Me. Four years ago. A misspent youth.

I’m a massive dag but give me an excuse to dress up and I’ll be there. As the great Canadian poet, Shania Twain once said;

“Men’s shirts-short skirts

Oh, oh, oh, really go wild-yeah, doin’ it in style

Oh, oh, oh, get in the action-feel the attraction

Color my hair-do what I dare

Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free-yeah, to feel the way I feel

Man! I feel like a woman!”

Hindley, thanks for having my back when I need an excuse to bring the hem line up and slip on those ankle-breaking heels – just once in a while!

Dear Internet, I’m a liar

Last night I did something that I’d previously said I never would. At 2.45am, Sunday morning actually, the 13th of December 2015 I deleted my Tinder account. Now I’m not saying that it’s forever however it is, for now. It wasn’t a thought out choice but rather a spur of the moment decision, as I drifted off to sleep and the low hum of my phone awoke me, I stared with shock (at behaviour I should be immune to now) as yet another sexist message flashed across my screen in the early hours of the morning.
That’s it, I’d had my fun. If you call endless dull conversations with strangers, that inevitably slide into poorly worded sexual innuendos fun – which I did, for a while at least. Like I’ve said before, there is plenty of hilarity to be found in the world of online dating and many have found long lasting relationships – which is excellent however it sure isn’t easy.

I could blame it on a single message but truly I’d be kidding myself, it wasn’t anything in particular that pushed me over the edge – I’d rather been enjoying the banter, using much of it as inspiration for musings and comedy however all of a sudden I realised how ridiculous the whole thing was. The best ideas come in the middle of the night, they say, and for now, I think that this one really has been good. I did, however, have nightmares after I drifted off to sleep; fearing that I’d made the wrong choice. Dramatic, yes – that’s me in a nutshell.

The downsides to Tinder though had become clear to me – I was beginning to get paranoid that matches from the site would see me out and about. I put enough of myself out into the world without doing it via an app that lets you – neigh, encourages you, to message strangers when under the influence of copious amounts of booze. With the party season in full swing and many more occasions ahead, I could feel that trouble would be brewing. I’d find myself at a table at a party, swiping like my life depended on it, acquiring match after match who I’d likely only chat to simply to prove that people these days are just terrible. The irony of which does not go un-noticed by me, I just chose to ignore it.
I am done though – done with the barrage of sexist messages, comments assuming that I’d go alright (in bed) – they’re right, I’m great in bed – however what gives them the right to make that judgement of a complete stranger? Oh yeah, Tinder. I’m hoping that now I’ve deleted my online dating profile that I’ll never again have a stranger offer to ‘stick his cock in my mouth’ or send me a photo of their genitals – unrequested, thank you very much. Sure, dicks are great – handy, but not attractive and certainly not something that I like to receive via photo message on a Sunday afternoon, other than for the comedic value, there is little other to appreciate. I’m also done with chatting to guys who later reveal that they have a girlfriend – or worse, a wife, and still expect to continue the conversation. Sure – they could have waited until after we’d met up, dated, that would be worse – but way to go and destroy my faith in humanity and belief in the dream that respectful relationships exist. Thanks Tinder users.

It was fun while it lasted and hey, I certainly got some tales to tell. I never say never – wait until the winter chill rolls around and I’ll likely be singing a completely different song but for now, Tinder and I are unmatched.