I Come From a Proud Family of Liars

If there has been one constant in my life, it would be the lies that I have been fed – regularly and casually by members of my family. Usually they were innocent enough and mostly just off handed jokes that I was gullible enough to fall for. I genuinely believed for a long time that my grandma was a witch. Not JUST because my Mum (her daughter in law) would call her ‘that witch of a woman’ (kidding, they have a great relationship, though there was that one time that my Mum, in her early 20s called the incredibly proper, lovely woman who was to be her mother in law ‘fuckle features’ to her face – but that’s a story for another time). No, I genuinely believed that my grandmother was a witch because there was this HILARIOUS in joke in my family about it. I have literally no idea where it came from because that woman is as God loving as they bloody well come however for some insane reason apparently she was a witch, complete with her very own broom featuring handle bars and a bike seat. I shit you not. So there I was, all of eight years old, waiting to be handed a wand and taught the ways of people and I’m sure you can imagine how bloody disappointed I was, age eleven when I never did receive my letter from Hogwarts. Damn.

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This is me with my witch of a grandma (looks pretty innocent, doesn’t she?) at a dress up party.

I literally had no hope though – turns out liars have been in my family for generations. My great grandparents fudged the date on their marriage certificate. When cleaning out the house after my great grandfather had passed away, my Mum and my aunties found the marriage certificate in question, complete with poorly applied whiteout placed strategically over the date, altering the date of their marriage by two months.  How they thought that they could get away with it is beyond me. I get it, it was a different time, photoshop wasn’t a thing, but shit, Nanna Jarrett must have really been on another planet to think she could sneak that one on by. Even if she had been able to do a half decent job using the stationary her plan would have been thwarted by anyone with a half decent grasp of MATHS and MONTHS. My grandpa was born suspiciously soon after the hastily organised wedding date – that’s all I’m saying team.

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My mum and her sisters, all born into a web of lies.

The lies carried on though, I recall finding a ultrasound picture at my aunties when I was nine. “OH MY GOD YOU’RE HAVING A BABY” I shrieked. “No” she calmly replied, “The cat’s pregnant” which was a weird coincidence because a couple months later my auntie was married and not long after I had a new cousin. Furthermore, the cat suspiciously never had any kittens. EVER.

I’m no innocent bystander here though; I was a mean, mean terrible sister. I lied to my brother heaps. The most memorable, I will never live down. The tale goes as such; I was six years old, nagging my Mum to take my brother and I to the local kindy fete. Nagging, nagging and nagging some more. I do not blame my Mother for what happened next, she was not an irresponsible parent, I was just a really shit child. She snapped and without thinking said; “why don’t you just walk then?”
So off I went, to scrounge up some change (approximately $5) and find my four year old brother so that I didn’t have to walk alone. This was before my brother became a bad ass rule breaker (that didn’t happen until he was at least seven) so I needed to tell a half truth (LIE) to get him to come along. I knew that mum didn’t actually want us to walk. I was smart enough to understand sarcasm, but I still wanted to go, so I just told my darling innocent baby (like actually he was pretty much still a baby) brother that Mum had said it was okay.
Flash forward 45 minutes, Mum notices we’re missing, Dad finds us about 2kms away wandering down Greenhill Road and Mum learned that sarcasm isn’t an ideal parenting technique. I never actually revealed (until now) that I purposely lied to make this happen – so I guess my whole life has been a lie?

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Look how cute we were (okay, the story in question happened a few years later than this photo)

I’ll leave you with this though and that is, sometimes lies are important – or half truths at least. I wish my mum hadn’t told me the truth of how she found out she was pregnant with me, how, after a booze filled weekend in Melbourne she returned to Adelaide and thought “hmmm maybe I am up the duff”, did the test and a few months later – hello, Alicia’s here! It’s all good, I mean she was married, to my Dad (though if she wasn’t that would have been fine – no judgement, obviously) however what I wish she had lied about (a little) was the vomiting in gutters level drinking that she achieved just prior to finding out that she was with child. I mean sure, I’m proud of her, she’s the lady that truly taught me how to party but it’s just that, every time something weird happens in my life, every time my brain is a little bit erratic and I feel unnecessarily violent I wonder if I can blame it on my Mum. Rather than just accepting my own personal failures like a normal person. So Mum, while I love you insane amounts, I wish that one time you had lied because now there is always going to be a little bit of me that feels like I genuinely can blame you for my failings.

 

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Here’s a photo of my mum before I came into her life and made her cool. She is on the right at the front (the only lady in the picture…) and behind her…MY DAD!

 

That One Time I Got Lash Extensions…

I should probably start this by explaining that I am certainly not the most sophisticated of women; I buy my make-up from the supermarket and I wouldn’t even think twice about eating an entire Dominos Deep Crust all to myself. However, when I was offered the chance to try an eye enhancing treatment thanks to the excellent folk at Essential Beauty, I was intrigued.

Furthermore, when I found out that it would mean I could get flawless eyes without having to wear (and therefore remove) any eye make-up for at least two weeks, well that’s when this lazy girl was sold!

To read the rest of the article, head on over to Adelady.

Bunting Is Not A Dirty Word*

Attending yet another friend’s wedding recently, with my boyfriend in tow, I was struck by the gorgeous decorations that adorned the venue, remarking to said boyfriend; “Isn’t that some lovely bunting?” What happened next left me gob smacked, in a state of shock and absolute despair, my boyfriend replied by saying; “what in the Lords good name is bunting?” (okay, that’s not what he said but I kind of wanted him to sound cutesy and proper, he actually said “what the fuck is bunting?”). It was at this point that I began to question every decision that I had made about my life up until that very point – how could I be planning to spend the rest of my life with a man who does not know what bunting is? Slight overreaction, perhaps however I was in a little bit of shock.

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The bunting in question, at said friends wedding.

The mark and sign of adorable hipster gals and guys worldwide, decorative bunting is a diverse thing of absolute majesty. Being a bearded man who, when it pleases him, refers to himself as a barista and at other times a comedian, I assumed that he would have knowledge of such things. It turns out that I put too much faith in him.

After pointing at the delicate material hanging from ornate ribbon strung across the venue, I expected him to be impressed however my explanation was simply met with a shrug and ignorant comment; “Ah right, just looks like bits of scrappy material on a string to me”. The feeling of disappointment once again filled my being, I would never be able to commit to a man so ignorant of such beauty.

Lucky for him, my love can look past him lack of knowledge about this simple facet of society and my mind got to thinking. Bunting is a staple of many happy households, cafes, bars, baby showers, weddings and awkwardly nostalgic 60th birthday parties filled with relatives that you’d secretly hoped were already dead. It is diverse in its application and a thing of much excellence, could its purpose not be bigger than we had previously imagined with our feeble narrow minds?
Bunting could probably fix marriages that are on the brink of destruction, it could likely cure cancer and without a doubt end many a mental illness.
Bono (of U2 fame, just in case  he is not longer relevant at the time of publishing, as is the nature of the world we live in) recently suggested that comedians could end wars, with jokes spreading laughter far and wide soldiers would not be able to resist the urge to laugh and their hearts would inevitable be filled with joy. Bono is an idiot however he could be onto something, filling the hearts of soldiers with joy could in fact end all wars and if there is one sure way to bring about joy then that is, without a doubt, bunting.
So let’s all raise a glass, to that oft overlooked, at times misunderstood, beautiful addition to any life: bunting.

*Okay, so if you look it up on Urban Dictionary, it totally is (a dirty word that is). On so many levels and with so so so many interpretations. I suggest that you click on this paragraph, pick any interpretation that you like and re-read the above with that very definition in life.

Confessions of a No Lights No Lycra Addict

Those who know me may have heard me raving about one of my favourite past times – No Lights No Lycra (NLNL) because it is SO FREAKIN FUN. Head to the link for the full story but in short, basically you go into a room, the lights get switched off and you dance your ass off to excellent tunes for an hour – without the fear of anyone seeing your potentially heinous dance moves. I love it. I head along whenever I get the chance, to the Adelaide one in Stepney and shake what my mumma gave me. It’s a chance, for most, to switch off mentally however I have found that with the tunes pumping and my feet moving, some odd things pass through my mind – so I thought I would share them with you…(and hey, maybe you might want to come along some time?)

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  • Oh Wow, it’s so dark…OHMIGAWD WHOSE HAND IS THAT ON MY NECK? Oh wait, it’s mine…
  • Argh how great is this song, hey if Missy Elliot can learn all the words to a Missy Elliot song then I should be able to as well. I’d be a sick rapper…
  • Not enough people pull out the ‘shopping trolley’ move in the club. I must incorporate it next time I hit the d-floor
  • Oh wow, I’m stuffed…how has it only been four songs….
  • SHIT YEAH THIS SONG TOTALLY SPEAKS TO MY SOUL, I AM TOTALLY ADDICTED TO BASS

 

  • Note to self, I must download ALL Taylor Swift songs when I get home, especially the earlier stuff
  • There really isn’t enough Prodigy on the work playlist, I think I’ll add ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ when I’m in the office next
  • Shit I am good at this, I wonder if ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ is still a thing…actually I may as well go straight to the top, hopefully Britney is still taking applications for dancers for her Vegas show, I’m a shoe in
  • Oh shit, note to self, don’t pull that move again, Alicia you need your ankles functioning for the purpose of WALKING
  • Oh what is this song, I must ask the girl who programmed the list, I really want to add it to the playlist for my fantasy wedding reception (actual legit thing)
  • Holy shit, I like most music but for some reason Dubstep really makes me want to destroy every electrical appliance I own – even the ones I really like…
  • Gee George Michael really was so sassy in his prime – and I honestly think that the use of tambourine in Faith is pure musical genius
  • Oh wow, this song is great, I haven’t heard THIS club track since 2003 when I thought Celicas were the coolest cars in the world because the cute boy down the street drove one…he turned out to be a bit of a knob. No surprises there.
  • WHAT?! Last song already…okay I better enjoy this…
  • Just sayin, how bloody awesome is my damned fine, strong, beautiful, powerful and capable body that allows me to dance like crazy for an hour? AND how awesome are the bits that jiggle when I shake ma thang? They the best.
  • OHMIGAWD IT IS SO BRIGHT…BRIGHT LIGHT BRIGHT LIGHT.

 

12 HOURS LATER:

Does anyone know a good physio? It hurts when I try to human.

48 HOURS LATER

Eugh can’t it be Monday already? I wanna dance again!!!!

 

The excitement of an alone stroll…

Today I went for a walk, look at me go! Unfortunately, being a public holiday, the rest of Adelaide seemed to have the same idea. The thing is, when you get a whole heap of people in the same place, suddenly some people just seem…worse than others. Rather than enjoy the scenery, I kept myself distracted by noticing the flaws in those around me and I choose to share them now with you, in this blog post – enjoy xx

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At least the scenery was worth it.

Car Park Wankers

Without being reminded by my fellow walkers, I already find it weird that I am DRIVING MY CAR to go somewhere to WALK. Growing up in the beautiful surrounds of the Adelaide Hills, you just go for a walk where you live however since moving to suburbia, I’ve had to get comfortable with the concept of driving to nature – rather than just stepping out of the front door and into it.
On top of this, on a day like this, the park was absolutely full to the brim with a number of cars (predominantly ‘tough’ 4WDs) parked in non-designated parking areas – ALL OVER THE NATURE. The cars were parked on the nature that their inhabitants were there to enjoy. I just don’t get it. For the record, I parked further away and…here’s an abstract concept…walked to the walk.

Croc Sock Dag

Someone is very embarrassed to be related to this human. Not only was he wearing crocs, he was wearing them with socks on a hike up a rocky hill. Go home.

Headphone Farter

She may not have been able to hear it but surely she could feel it? Sure she was blasting T-Swiz pretty loudly through her noise cancelling headphones but that is no excuse for farting loudly whilst walking past another group of walkers. None at all.

Ipad Dad

Taking photos with an Ipad is bad at the best of times however when its half way through a three hour hike you really have to question everything you ever thought you knew. Furthermore, if the photographer in question is dressed head to toe in bike riding Lycra with not a single road nor road bike in sight, perhaps it is in fact time to give up on this world.

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I shouldn’t judge though – I was snapchatting shitty pictures of koalas…

Glasses Buddy

This lady was wearing the same sunglasses as me so walked out of her way, just to tell me. It wasn’t a huge shock as I could in fact easily see that we were wearing the same glasses myself. Wearing the same glasses is not reason enough to become friends and someone should explain that to this woman. After pointing out out common eye wear to me, she then tried to continue the conversation – lady I just wanna enjoy nature on my own – enough!

Couples Therapy

Next up I was stuck behind Michelle and Lucas; Lucas barely ever empties the dishwasher and having to constantly ask Lucas to do so distresses Michelle as she is very conscious of not nagging him. My life is enriched with this knowledge.

Selfie Stick Owner

They are big, they are awkward and they are pointy and you look like an idiot.

Star Wars Spoiler

I’m torn, I can’t decide if this is adorable or super shitty. Whilst catching my breath in the car park before heading back to my car I could over hear a woman reading out the Wikipedia plot overview of Star Wars to her incredibly eager child. Now I haven’t seen Star Wars however I am incredibly familiar with the Wikipedia plot overview – because I’ve read it just to keep up with pop culture and to make sure I’m down with the youth. So anyways, my gripe? While it was kinda cute how much the kid was loving it and how adorable the entertainment method was I was concerned for THE PEOPLE – the woman’s voice was kinda loud and what if the other people didn’t want to know any Star Wars spoiler alerts? WHAT IF?

10/10 Douche Bros

For a solid three minutes, the absolute worst of my life, I was stuck within hearing distance of two ‘roided up twats who felt the need to rate every single woman that they spotted on a scale out of ten, pulling apart every aspect of their physical appearance in a terribly degrading way that only a truly insecure person could. They were terrible people and I hope that their dicks shrivel up and their hair falls out. For the record, I’m a seven with a great butt who could ‘lose a bit off the thighs and should check out fake tanning ’ while they were far too muscular for my liking with faces that only a paper bag could improve and personalities that could never be saved.

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This is what a ‘7’ looks like – taken WITHOUT a selfie stick.

Runners

Up the hill, down the hill, super fast on the flats and constantly making us non-runners feel inadequate. Runners are not your friends, they are super human beasts put on this earth to keep the rest of us in our place – and they deserve every shin splint that comes their way.

 

So if you ever decide to go on a walk and spot me out and about, perhaps have a nice trait that I can write about next time I do this?

I love you because you are a piece of shit.

I’m sorry to be the bitch that has to break it to you but your sole purpose on my Facebook feed is to make me feel better about myself. Not all of you lot – just you (points at the woman posting photos of her children as they suffer asthma attacks on the way to the hospital) and you (family member who keeps posting passive aggressive ‘look at me, look at me’ posts) and you (bloke who thinks starting your statuses with “I’m not a racist but…” makes what you’re about to say okay). Yeah – all you lot, you’re not my Facebook ‘friends’ because I like you, you’re just there because sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think “damn girl you really need to get your shit together” but then I turn away from the mirror, open up my laptop, peruse my Facebook feed and realise that actually I’m not the worst person to ever walk the face of this earth. Far from it in fact and that reminder is all thanks to you guys. Not once do I recall in my twenty five years, ever (and I could be wrong) donning black face, taking a whole heap of photos of myself doing so, posting it on the internet and then acting like it’s the least racist thing that’s ever happened in the history of the world (well yeah it’s not but it’s fairly shitty). No, I do not recall doing that. I do however have ‘friends’ who have and whilst I look at these people with disgust, shame and sadness, I also feel a little bit of affection. Not towards them exactly though but towards their sheer stupidity and general horribleness as a human. I love them just a little bit because they are there, as a constant and present reminder that no matter how dumb I am, no matter what stupid thing I do or say, no matter how shameful I was on the weekend when I got super super drunk and vomited on the window of the Apple store, I will never be so shitty as to dress in black face, let alone post a picture of it on the internet. Sometimes I talk about my friends behind their backs (sorry but sometimes you just have to let it out) but my Facebook feed reminds me that even though sometimes I can be a mean girl, actually I am okay (compared to some) because I have never stooped so low as to publicly call my former best friend a whore on social media (no, I save that for the stage…)
I guess what I’m saying is that life is a matter of perspective and my true love of Facebook comes from the fact that it is the most convenient way to remind myself that I’d have to lose a hell of alotta brain cells to be the worst person I know. Facebook is like watching the love child of A Current Affair and Today Tonight speed dating every soap opera ever made. A beautiful train wreck and I can’t turn away because ultimately…at times I’m kinda dumb, kinda terrible and kinda gross and baby I need people worse than me so I can feel validated. #SorryNotSorry

P.S I am 110% aware and proud that I am probably the person who some people keep to make THEMSELVES feel better about THEIR life choices, for those people I have this: I once went out to the city, pretended to be from the UK (with a terrible accent) and told people I was back in Australia for a funeral JUST SO THAT I COULD GET FREE DRINKS. I am a piece of shit. Thank you and good night.

 

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UnPlotted Potter – More Fun Than You Can Poke A Wand At…

I’m not a crazy Harry Potter fan or anything, I mean it’s not like I’ve got a quote from the books tattooed on my arm or anything…oh wait, I do. Well this is awkward, I guess now the whole world knows that I REALLY BLOODY LIKE HARRY POTTER. Phew, well now that we’ve got that out of the way, I guess that it’s time to admit that I went to a Harry Potter themed improv show on the weekend. Yep, that’s right, this cute and quirky show explored the back story of a previously low key character from the mind of JK Rowling.

Each night the character in question will inevitably be different as it can be any one of over 150 minor Potter characters. On the night I attended we were lucky enough to experience the tale of Phineas Nigellus Black – and what a boisterous ride it was!

The talented team of improvisers from Scriptease brought bundles full of energy and genuine laughs to the stage.

I do adore Harry Potter but I’m certainly no crazy expert. Off the top of my head, I wouldn’t know the name of Dumbledores Mother (it’s Kendra, for future reference) but many attendees would have. There were plenty of experts in the crowd who were given the opportunity to defend the honor of the Potter tale to call out the performers when they committed a magical faux-pas which made for many a laugh throughout the hour. To this, a number of performers seemed to be showing off in their knowledge of the world of Potter while others dodged any mention of this completely – which only added for laughs and contrast!

A delightful and fun show for Potter fans and ignorant muggles alike! For tickets and more info, head to FringeTix – and don’t forget, there are HEAPS of awesome shows still to see this Fringe…how about checking out some from this list:

Emily Tresidder – Crazy Is

Duncan Turner Was An Inside Job

Marcel Blanch- de Wilt: PLAY

Beep Boop

Angus Hodge – Guy Alone

SIGH FI

Caught In The Crosswire

Annnnd heaps more – head to the Producers, Tuxedo Cat or Rhino for plenty of great shows! xx

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Will I Ever Be Bey? Part Two…

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I donned my favourite dancing pants and got into the swing of things!

If you had told me this time last week that I’d be dancing in broad daylight, stone cold sober to a Justin Bieber song in front of a crowd of people at Gluttony – I’d probably have asked what you’d been smoking. But it’s happened now and I can’t take it back – really, I can’t, there’s video evidence of it on the internet.
If you read my post last week, you might already know that I don’t exactly consider myself to be the best of dancers but I want to be…I really really want to Bey. So when I heard about the Bey dance classes I was keen to jump on board – though I didn’t know that I’d be shakin my booty in front of a crowd.
The class kicked off on a warm Saturday arvo in Gluttony but thank goodness for air con and fans because you can’t dance up a storm without working up a bit of a sweat! The wonderful founder of Bey Dance, Liz introduced us to our teacher, Rhys and broke the news that may have shattered some attendees – we wouldn’t actually be dancing to a Beyonce song (what, oh no!) but instead a Justin Bieber song. Thankfully the Biebs has come into his own recently – no more of this whiny ‘oh baby baby’ rubbish. No. ‘Sorry’ was one of the catchiest yet not completely shit songs of 2015 and I wasn’t sorry that we would be getting to dance along to that (though I am sorry for that sentence, it was shameful and the use of the word sorry as a mild pun was pathetic. Soz).
On one hand we were thrown into the deep end – getting straight into the moves but on the other hand, we were thrown really gently! The way that Rhys and Liz eased everyone into the choreography whilst also helping us feel like we were achieving something really quickly was impressive. I’ve tried my hand at a few dance classes over the years and I’m not lying when I say this was the most fun, most energetic and most satisfying!
Sure, my legs are still aching a bit today (though that may have more to do with the extra dancing that I did ALL Saturday night…) however it was totally worth it! The Bey dance class was all about being confident and positive – not necessarily about getting the moves 100% right. That being said, the moves were simple enough that it wasn’t too difficult at all – and even if you didn’t get them right, you would still look pretty damned fabulous!
So after an hour and a half, filled with plenty of laughter, we were gently ushered out into the centre of Gluttony to ‘flashmob’ the crowd outside. It was heaps and heaps of fun – while I can’t bring myself to watch the video of it, I feel like it doesn’t matter what we looked like because it was an absolute blast! Thanks Bey Dance!

Ten Adeladies You Should Check Out This Fringe…

Have you looked around lately? You’d be crazy not to because this beautiful city of ours is absolutely BRIMMING with talent!

With the Adelaide Fringe Festival taking over the town in the next few weeks, there’ll be endless chances to catch some of the best international and established performers for over a month – but that doesn’t mean you should forget about the locals!

There are heaps of people kicking goals in the Adelaide arts scene – and better yet, plenty of gals representing! It’s tough to make a decision on where to throw your cash but hey, this year how about you throw some of it at a local babe – in an artistic sense that is! So without further ado, here’s my personal list of Adeladies you should see at this year’s Fringe!

To continue reading this post, head on over to http://adelady.com.au/10-adelaides-you-should-see-at-the-fringe/ – also don’t forget to grab tix to my show… available from Fringe Tix!

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