I think I am ready to admit to myself that despite my best efforts to the contrary, I am not a gardener and nor will I ever be one. The patch of dirt in my small court yard that in my mind was to be filled with luscious vegetables and flowering natives or at the very least, pots of useful herbs is currently nothing more than mud decorated poorly with aging mulch.
Two years ago I moved into my current abode, with big dreams and a heart set on being a real functioning proper adult – with the kind of outdoor area to prove to my friends and family that I’d truly made it. Flash forward to January 2016 and the only colour in my yard comes from the fading retro garden flamingos that were once used as a novelty Christmas decoration – otherwise its brown ground and asbestos fencing as far as the eye can see – which isn’t far anyways, since it (thankfully) is a tiny yard.
Encouragement came from every corner – mum would swing by on Saturday mornings and off we’d venture to Bunnings to find another pretty low maintenance flower to revitalise the passion for gardening. Upon our return however, she would cast her eye over the barren wasteland into which I intended to integrate the pretty little plant and sigh with disappointment. An avid and successful gardener herself, I’m sure she couldn’t help but feel personally responsible that I’d recently killed not one but two supposedly indestructible mint plants. Mother grew bored of my failed attempts at adult life and moved away, like far far away. I’m almost entirely sure she made this major life change so that she would no longer have to regularly bear witness to the failure of a daughter which she herself had raised.
For the past year I have found myself getting rather cosy in many gardens – beer gardens that is, if only to water (that’s a gardening term, right?) my own sorrow – but not drown it – because that’s how we kill plants(I know that much, because humans also die if drowned, duh). My passion was momentarily relocated late last year when I read an article by the excellent Helen Razer, describing how she had found a love of gardening in recent years. Enthused by her words I stepped out into the yard – and then my phone vibrated and a single word flashed up on the screen; “pub?” – ahhhh Helens getting older, her friends are married and have children and no longer waste hours talking shit with a pint in their hand, that must be how she manages to find time to garden…
This morning I re-assessed the situation and sighed deeply – I began to pull out weeds, dressed in the oh so classy combination of pyjamas and thongs. Before I knew it I’d accidentally walked backwards into the peg basket on the washing line and tipped a substantial amount of water on myself – that’s enough gardening for this year then.
I love the idea of sitting in a beautifully landscaped garden but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that everyone needs a fantasy to keep them going in life, so that shall be mine. Perhaps I will one day marry into money, live in a fancy house and hire a gardener? Or perhaps I will continue to live the way I do for many years to come. If that is the case, my lack of gardening talent is probably the least of my worries…maybe I should upgrade to furniture that isn’t made of milk crates? Or learn to correctly file important documents instead of shoving them in drawers (that are sure to overflow soon at this rate)? I should almost certainly learn to eat the yoghurt in the fridge before it starts growing the dangerous looking red mould that I found this morning – the kind that could probably kill at least thirty three unborn babies with a single spoonful. Now I think of it, I might just top up my morning glass of sparkling (FYI it’s Prosecco – because if you’re gonna grow up to be an alcoholic, you may as well be a fabulous, European fun one- and not too expensive either) and plan a picnic – in someone else’s garden. I never said I didn’t like the outdoors but dirt? That stuff is icky.
Late last year I had the absolute pleasure of chatting to a comedian who I’ve enjoyed for many year – the fantastic Wil Anderson. He was funny, interesting and even though there was a phone line between us, he had my blushing like a little school girl! I used the opportunity, as a comedian, to grab a bit of insight from him into the ‘art’ of comedy – and how being a comedian affects every day life – I liked what he said! I’ve copied the article below – but here’s the link to the original on Scenestr if you’d prefer to read it there…
In 2016, the hilarious and talented Wil Anderson bring his new show, ‘Fire At Wil’ to Adelaide and Brisbane.
Always delivering fresh and exciting material, Anderson has forged a reputation in the Australian comedy scene as one of the hardest working comedians around – and it’s easy to see why, as he regularly takes on a slew of projects, delivering high-energy each time.
‘Fire At Wil’ is built on the foundations of his previous show. “The new show is always a reaction to the last show but I don’t really know what that means until I have the show written and up and going,” he explains.
That being said, the most recent show that he brought to Adelaide and Brisbane was, at the time, still a work in progress. “Adelaide last year got to see me write a show basically, on stage. That’s a fun process, I feel that some of those shows that I did in Adelaide were some of the more fun shows of the tour.”
Due to being a work in progress at the time, the show in question – ‘Free Wil’ – relied heavily on improvised material, engaging the audience and building on the energy of the room, arguably something that Anderson absolutely excels at.
While it isn’t always ideal to be workshopping a show and relying so much on improvised material, Anderson explains there is a particular magic to the occurrence. “Essentially what you’re trying to do with a comedy show is put together something that most people can relate to and you can bring a room full of strangers with completely different experiences together and make them laugh.”
However, not all audience members will have shared experiences and be able to understand all the material – that is, unless they experience it there and then. “If something happens in the room… everybody in the room has just seen that happen and just experienced that thing, so it’s one of the rare times when you can have an entire room getting the sense of what you’re meaning in that moment. So in some ways those shows are the most exciting.”
‘Fire At Wil’, however, will be a completely different beast – especially for Adelaide audiences. “Adelaide isn’t going to see a show like that this year because I decided that since I wrote the show in front of them last year, this year I should take them a show that was actually worked on before I got to Adelaide. I’m doing a week of trial shows in Canberra first, so the people in Adelaide will probably see a more advanced show that what they saw last time.”
What can audiences expect though? Anderson hopes to deliver a show that meets the high-standards that his fans have come to expect. “If you buy a ticket to the show, hopefully you’ll buy a ticket to someone who will try his best to make you laugh for an hour.”
With an ever growing profile across a range of mediums – including podcasts and a hosting gig on ABC’s ‘Gruen’ it can be difficult to please everyone though, as he recently experienced. “When they played ‘Wiluminati’ on the ABC I had a person say; ‘they should get the person who writes Wil Anderson’s jokes on ‘Gruen’ to write the jokes for his stand-up.’ But I was like you’re allowed to not like my stand-up or my TV show or vice versa, but the truth of it is that the person who writes the jokes for both of those things is exactly the same person, it’s me. Different aspects of me.”
While it does mean audiences may come to know Anderson for reasons outside his stand-up, he enjoys the variety, explaining that the biggest challenge can in fact be finding the right mix. “If I’m doing too much of one thing, I tend to hate it, no matter what that is.”
More than just being a form of entertainment, comedy is a field that can certainly teach us all a thing or two – and while there are plenty of life lessons to be had, Anderson says that his years in the entertainment industry have taught him two things – both of which are in regards to failure. “The main thing that stops people trying things is the fear of failure and comedy in particular is a failure business, if you’re not failing then you’re just not getting better.
“The second thing that goes with that is the idea that no one can stop you. Every comedian in the world has the worst gig in the world… the thing about comedy is that it teaches you to take responsibility for your own actions because you constantly have to.”
The ultimate lessons? “Embrace failure and you’re in charge of your own destiny – which is terrifying, but an empowering thing too.”
Regardless of the brutal nature of the industry Anderson explains that he wouldn’t have it any other way. “It’s my job, I’ve been doing it for 20 years and it would be tough for me to do anything else.”
‘Fire At Wil’ performs Adelaide Fringe 29 February – 3 March and Brisbane Comedy Festival 15-20 March.
Halloween is once again just around the corner and like every year the pressure is on to come up with a unique costume that doesn’t break the bank. With that in mind, and not forgetting the fact that Halloween is supposed to be scary, may I present you my very own list of Adelaide themed Halloween Costumes on a (very tight) Budget!
Embrace your inner balls…
Grab some balls, wrap em in alfoil and holy shit, you’re the most iconic location in Adelaide. The bigger the balls, the better – mine are small because I’m lazy.
Costume requirements: Aluminium foil and your imagination…
Scare Factor: it all depends on how dirty yer balls are.
I’m a (slutty) pig – duh.
Second only to the balls, the pigs are surely the most regularly mounted attraction in the mall. Ensure that you get all the attention you deserve this all hallows eve – slut it up or play it down, the choice is totally yours.
Costume requirements: I used post-it notes because I am poor.
Scare Factor: Depends how much you embrace your inner-pig
I’m a serial killer – duh.
It’s Adelaide. Apparently serial killers are everywhere. Mess with people even more, just come dressed like you do everyday.
Costume Requirements: None. Dress normally. Idiots will think you’re too lazy to bother with a costume, socially aware Adelaidians will know better. Feel free to add validity by hiding weapons (fake, of course) in your bag / car / dungeon – I mean basement.
Scare factor: watch Wolf Creek and Snow Town and then we can talk.
Uhm Can I Speak to the Manager? AKA The Burnside Mum
Spotted around the Eastern Suburbs but only in the right places, this woman is scary as fuck. You do not want to grow up to be her but you can take the piss out of her.
Costume requirements: You could fully commit and get one of those terrible hair-cuts or you could just use a wig. Incidentally this is the same wig I use to dress as Lady Gaga and ‘Pretty Woman’ so, y’know. Add a pearl necklace (the kind you can buy in a jewellery shop) for authenticity. I got mine from my ex-boyfriend. Incidentally he bought the same one for his mum which I feel says a lot about our relationship.
Scare factor: Have you ever worked in retail? These people are the stuff of nightmares.
Give up on life and you’re half way there. Add a flannelette shirt and you’re almost set…the final touch is forcibly removing a few teeth to complete the look.
Costume requirements: As above. You can only drink West End for the entire night, which probably isn’t the only downside of this costume…just, try to keep the racist comments to a minimum, okay?
Scare factor: petrifying to anyone who looks at you the wrong way…
The name is a palindrome, it’s the same backwards and forwards – and yes I am grasping as straws here. But you too can be the same backwards and forwards if you just try….
Costume requirements: Stick a photo of your own face to the back of your head. Walk with pride. Also a name badge that says Hannah…or…Glenelg, I guess..
Scare factor: I guess this depends on whether people like seeing your face twice or if once is enough…
Look, I’m not a sporty person…so passionate sports fans kinda…scare me. They don’t even have to try but recently it’s gotten even worse; Crows fans can’t seem to let go of all the fact that some of their key players are leaving and they’re a bundle of emotion. Heart break and anger can do frighting things to a person, just one of the many reasons to be afraid of sports fans.
Costume requirements: Sports…stuff. Head to your local op shop for a cheap deal on Port Adelaide merch,as I’m sure many of their ‘true fans’ have jumped off the bandwagon after the season they had.
Scare factor: Did you see Twitter when they officially announced that Dangerfield was leaving?Have you ever sat in the members’ area when the wrong team is winning? I rest my case.
All of my friends…
Leaving Adelaide is just so…Adelaide. You find yourself in your 20s and suddenly there is no worse place to be than Adelaide – apparently. So everyone packs their bags and high tails the fuck out. It’s almost iconic.
Costume requirements: Packed bags and a look of enthusiasm that’ll come in handy when Melbourne’s winter hits hard.
Scare factor: Terrifying. Basically I just want my friends to stop abandoning me.
The Internet has given us a voice where for many of us we previously didn’t have one. Amazing things have happened – stories have been shared from war torn nations, people from cultures with years of bad blood have been able to amicably connect and a guy traded a red paper clip for a house!
As we all know though there are plenty of things that the Internet has provided us with that haven’t been so good – in my opinion the 24/7 constant stream of information about everything Kardashian is a little bit overkill however plenty of people totally dig that. It’s what they live for – and who am I to throw shade their way? Be it good or bad, and I’m totally open to this being argued either way, it truly has given us all the chance to have a voice and for that voice to be heard but sometimes, just sometimes I think that maybe we need to reassess the way in which we frame our voices.
I’m gonna go a little bit ranty here but I think it needs to be said – and heard- people of the Internet and you know what, people at the pub, the water cooler and work kitchen, please remember that your opinions are subjective. They are yours and for the most part they are complex and diverse and incredibly unique to you. They are not gospel – even if you write them on a forum or in the comments section of a Facebook post or article.
You may think that the Bachelorette is the single worst show in the history of the world and of that opinion you are entitled however you probably should say something along the lines of; “I THINK that the Bachelorette is so terrible, if you watch it, I feel like you could likely contract eye cancer” (and yes, I used to date a guy who said these things, WHAT WAS I THINKING?!)– as opposed to; “That is the worst television show in the known universe, people who watch it deserve to die” – you see, the first shows that what you are saying is your opinion, while the second makes it seem like you are trying to talk on behalf of all mankind, which I can assure you is not something you want to do, if you are bagging out the Bachelorette. You will have angry mobs after you if you make outlandish claims involving Osher and beautiful, lovely, wonderful Sam Frost. You do not want that however, feel free to express YOUR opinion- just phrase it as such.
This is a gripe that really hits home when it comes to comedy – one of the single most subjective communication mediums going around. Reading posts about comedians, by comedians or promoting comedians you will no doubt see comments along the lines of; “*insert well known comedian here* is terrible, they should just give up now, their jokes are low grade and dick jokes aren’t even that funny” – contrasted with a comment saying; “oh my gosh, funniest shit I have ever seen” – see, different courses for different horses. The first comment, however, tries to speak for everyone. Just because you say someone is terrible, does not mean they are. You can say that you THINK they are terrible, but who are you to signally decide in entirety that they are?
Finally, and this isn’t what most post is about, it is about the use of subjective terms – duh, but (and this is one that really, really hits home), have you ever said something along the lines of; “women aren’t funny”? That’s okay, you’re allowed to think that. You would be wrong for a thousand and one reasons, but you are entitled to your opinions however next time try saying; “I personally do not find women to be all that funny and that is my personal opinion because I am a backwards asshole who has no concept of what is good, in fact from time to time I like to eat dirt because it pleases my cultureless palate”. To which I would respond; “good day to you sir, now I bid you adieu so that you may comfortably climb back into the hole which you somehow escaped from”
Recently, whilst searching for my favourite purple wig, I stumbled upon an archive that I hadn’t seen for a few years – my year 11 school diary. This artefact spans a year in my life for which I was sixteen years old for the first half and seventeen for the second – turbulent years for most, myself included but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t filled with wisdom – the kind of which can really only be recognised with a hell of a lot of hindsight. Thumbing through the pages of my regulation school diary – which I, against the official rules, decorated to within an inch of its life, I began to realise that the younger version of myself actually had a lot of smart stuff goin on that twenty five year old Alicia and likely many other so called adults could probably learn from…
She readily and happily took the piss out of herself
See page one – the introduction for anyone who dared open my school diary; not only do I describe myself as ‘awesome’ and ‘hot’ (two things I don’t actually remember myself believing at the time), I also include a photo of myself stuck in a toy display at Ikea. Now I’ve never had any trouble ‘taking the piss’ out of myself – in fact it’s clearly one of my favourite past times. Let me repeat: I have no shame. This isn’t a common trait in a lot of adults though – and I’m so sick of meeting people who take themselves too seriously. Life was meant to be fun – if you’re not having fun, you’re wasting your time.
An unwavering love for only one man
On page two you’ll find a countless of pictures of one man (oh and his band mates) covered in silver hearts and lipstick marks. Younger me had it bad for Alex Turner from The Arctic Monkeys and let’s be honest, 25 year old Alicia wouldn’t turn him down. Seeing this reminds me of how my heart ached with love (or lust?) for him, hearing his (admittedly heinous) accent through the speakers in my bedroom stereo. The lesson here? Never settle for a love that is any less than the rock star crush that your teenage self had.
Friends were everything
As our lives get busier and supposed priorities – like careers and new love interests get in the way, sometimes we can find ourselves neglecting friendships. My teenage self would have never done this and while sometimes her time would have been better spent studying or figuring out some realistic life goals, she always had her friends to lean on. As adults, sometimes our real friendships slip away. Please make sure that there is still time for real friends – the kind that will let you cry on their shoulder and snot in their hair (if you really must).
Fat thighs were a secondary consideration
As a teenager I was lucky to have a really good and positive body image. I know that this certainly wasn’t the case for most of my peers and as I’ve gotten older I’ve began to relate to what they were going through. While it’s not always at the forefront of my mind, I must admit that I do spend probably too much time thinking about how I look. I love a good hamburger but the thought of the fat cells on my ass is never far from my mind – sad but true. Sixteen year old me would not stand for that shit – she was pro food and while she had a terrible attitude to exercise (which I have now rectified), it wouldn’t hurt to invite her and her attitudes to dinner a little more regularly.
She had a hell of a lot of ambitions
There were lots of things that I wanted to do in life and all of a sudden being an adult got in the way. My goals have changed as I’ve aged, I think they’ve certainly gotten a hell of a lot less ambitious, also there are less of them and actually that’s kinda sad. Young Alicia surely lacked direction and had a wild and ridiculous imagination – but what’s wrong with that? Who was gonna tell me that I couldn’t direct an Academy Award winning movie (number 6) or write a children’s book with underlying drug references (number 42) or even make my parents proud (legitimately number 39 on the list)? Looking over the list, I’ve actually achieved some of the stuff that my young self thought would be really cool – joined dance classes, attended protests, performed stand-up comedy, travelled and made vodka jelly (some dreams weren’t as big as others) – so who’s to say that I can’t make more of my dreams come true, if I can actually dream them?
…and her dreams weren’t always smart or noble…and that was okay
And some of the stuff on my list was ridiculous – but what’s wrong with that? In a world where we’re always indulging in self-promotion, trying to make ourselves seem like ‘the best version of a human that we can be’ or some crap like that, I think we can become far too self-indulged. We’re too busy trying to make it seem like we’re making the world a better place and get so wrapped up in our own image that we actually become the kinda douche bags that make the world painful. Maybe if we could all indulge the idea that we don’t always have to be the gift that the world needs, the world might actually benefit – somehow? At least the douche bag factor would decrease.
She made time for herself
Taking a day off school to go to a music festival was more than acceptable but many of us struggle to allow ourselves time off from our busy (paid) jobs to do things that we love. Sometimes you just need to take it off and enjoy something. Hopefully you work in an understanding environment and if you don’t then maybe you need to consider changing things up because you don’t want to be like those unfortunate girls who missed seeing My Chemical Romance at the 2007 Big Day Out… which wasn’t me because I took the day off school. Yeah.
Her priorities were mostly right
A printed version of a MySpace quiz that I did at the time shows that it’s important to be annoyed by important things. While every other item on my list, other than my first is kinda selfish, the first item ‘ignorance’ is kinda vital. These days if someone asked what annoyed me, I’d probably say something pathetic like ‘bills’ ‘traffic’ or ‘people who don’t clean up their sweat at the gym’ – but younger Alicia’s concern with ignorance was kinda important. With mass communication at our finger tips, we all seem to spend a lot of time whinging these days, maybe we should whinge about more important issues than bad coffee though.
She spent her money on better things than alcohol
I bloody well loved tea – and I still do. Imagine how much better my world would be if I never had the idea to mix booze into my tea (by which I mean delicious summer tea cocktails, not spiked English Breakfast during my morning break). I’d probably have more money in my bank account but that being said, I certainly wouldn’t have a lot of the ridiculous experiences that have made me who I am today!
She didn’t overload herself
While this may not have been an accurate reflection of what I did do on that particular week, this page struck me. I know I had a lot more free time as a kid – that’s what being a kid is about but I think as adults we should probably find a bit more free time for ourselves. I have a lot of hobbies, passions and pre-occupations and while these are the things that make me who I am – they are what makes me happy and keeps me going, bloody hell I do a lot. Sometimes I probably need to be more like my lazy ass teenage self and indulge in watching every John Hughes movie ever in one sitting, just because I owe it to myself.
BONUS IMAGE – I found this piece of art in there (along with many others, if you want to see the other stuff, invite yourself over for dinner.) Just thought y’all might appreciate it…?
I should have started writing this at least ten minutes ago (okay, twenty…) but I found myself distracted by my old friend Tinder. I wasn’t even looking – I mean, yes I was “looking” but only in the sense that I was using my eyes to peruse while my fingers did the swiping (on the screen that is). Technically I’m currently otherwise satisfied – but I haven’t got to the point where I’ve deleted the app yet; that’s the kind of thing that signifies real commitment and I’m not sure that I’m ready for that yet. Two of my friends recently made that call in their blossoming relationship and the very thought of it made me break into cold sweats. I’d be more prepared to walk down the aisle and commit to someone I was matched with via an online love calculator on a reality TV show than commit to deleting Tinder. Why, I hear you ask – well boys and girls, the list pretty much writes itself, so without further ado; my top ten reasons why I won’t be deleting Tinder (any time yet, that is…)
(oh and for the uninitiated, a swipe to the left means “sorry mate, better luck next time”, while a swipe to the right means “good one sweetheart, something has sparked my attention”)
1 – Shameless – every last one of us…
I’ve got no shame – regular readers on my blog should have figured that out by now but even those people with standards and self respect seem to lose it all the moment they sign up for Tinder. Remember, I’m on there too, so every negative thing I say could also be about myself (but let’s be honest, it’s probably not). People are upfront about everything – start a conversation and you’ll be surprised at what you find out – and your suspicions that every member of Gen Y is a self absorbed twat will probably be confirmed
2 – I don’t have a cat and free to air TV is boring…
I feel like if I had the patience to rear a pet then I’d probably get one and that way I’d be entertained for hours on end. Otherwise I could sign up to Netflix – but that also requires effort. What requires probably equal amounts of effort but has a better pay off is swiping through Tinder. Sure striking up conversation can be a pain in the ass but hey, most of the time the shit that my Tinder matches dribble is more entertaining than an episode of Home and Away – plus if I’m lucky, they’ll invite me to their place that has a Netflix subscription – and if I’m even luckier they’ll have a heater / air con (seasonal variance, obviously) and that’s great because electricity is expensive.
3- I don’t need to search ‘hot shirtless guy’ to get my kicks…
FREE PORN SAY WHAT?! Okay, ‘porn’ might be an exaggeration but as someone who proudly admits to enjoying the occasional male strip show (I’m only human after all…), I do enjoy swiping, swiping and BAM RIPPED AS HOT TOPLESS DUDE. Thank you gods of Tinder – you know just what I needed on this lonely, cold Tuesday night. It’s not like I’ll swipe right – I doubt that any guy who posts a shirtless gym pic is the kind I’d want to introduce to my parents but that doesn’t mean I can’t look…and screen shot for later.
4- I live in a post land line world…
Back in the day, basically before my dating years, if you wanted to ask a girl (or a guy) out, you had to dial a landline, never knowing who would answer. Did they live with their parents still? What if they had a psycho housemate who liked to mess with potential suitors? WHAT IF? That kind of fear could weed out the weakest of contenders however with the ease of direct contact through mobile phones and messenger apps, it’s now way too easy to contact the person that of your desires. For that reason, the short description under Tinder photos is now part on an essential veto process. A quote from Anchor Man? It says he likes that movie – and that’s alright, it’s a funny movie, but he lacks creativity and he’s probably dull as can be. A Dad joke? I like your style. An upfront admission to being a sexist creep? Well I’m glad we got that out the way! Or you could be like Jacob*, 28 from Adelaide. He’s in a polyamorous relationship and wants to broaden his horizons – good for him, and good for me. Glad we cleared that up, I’ll be swiping left and going on my way.
5- I live in Adelaide and I have a really big family
I can literally swipe five times and bump into someone I know – or am related to. It’s like walking down Rundle Street in March. Okay, I lie, I’m exaggerating a bit – it took me fifteen swipes tonight before I found a kid I went to primary school tonight. Finding these people always puts a smile on my face – not just because I enjoy making sly judgements about what they choose to put out there but because it’s nice to know that they’re still alive and kicking. This counts for family too – as creepy as it is to almost swipe right on your first cousin (and no, it doesn’t go ‘your cousins and then your first cousins’ – it’s all as bad as one another…) it really is nice to know that they’re getting out there – I do have a huge family and if I had to keep up with their lives using Facebook and human contact alone, I’d run out of time to sleep (around).
6 – I’m a stickler for good spelling
Communicating via a message app allows me to make judgement calls based on your spelling and grammar. Sure, I could do this via text messages but by that point you’ve already got my number – you could deceive me with your dulcet tones down the line rather than accidentally revealing your major flaws. Let’s have a text only probation period – and that includes no sending of pictures, I want to judge you on your conversation skills, not your package…I’ll save that judgment for later.
7- I’m a sucker for compliments
I chose five of my most flattering and interesting pictures to adorn my profile; in them I look pretty and fun. Little do viewers know that I usually wake up looking like a swamp monster and that sometimes (regularly) I’d rather cuddle up with my electric blanket and a good book than go an drink in a bar. They don’t need to know the truth so early on – let them be fooled and falsely believe I am the coolest babe going around. I will therefore accept the compliments that follow; “hey beautiful” – oh you! “You do comedy – that’s so cool – and brave!” – oh thanks (it’s not cool, it makes me neurotic and crazed but I’ll let you believe it’s cool)! “What, you’re on a diet? Don’t bother, you’re so sexy” – says the guy that will never get to see me naked or learn the bumpy truth…
8 – Being a judgmental jerk is way easier behind a screen…
Can’t we all be bitchy from time to time? Probably better to do it in a setting that won’t get you death stares across the dance floor. Just swipe left or right and reap the joy and satisfaction that they power of your phone gives you – because feeling powerful from Tinder is healthier than starting a death cult.
9 – I’m paranoid…
That my fingers will get fat if they don’t get their daily swipe-ercise. I may be grasping at straws for reasons to not delete the app but c’mon, I’ve made some valid points so far!
10 -The excitement of getting a match is too much to deny myself…!
That thrill of my phone producing that distinct long and low buzzing sound can be matched by no other. It’s either keep Tinder or become a drug addict, clearly the choice is simple.
*Name changed because I don’t want to be a total bitch – but I’m sure he’d know who is and probably be totally fine with being named and shamed – Tinder is public after all!I
I want to get married. One day – when the right guy comes along. It’s not a religious thing or anything like that; I just really like the idea of getting married (and y’know, having a wedding and all). That being said, I’m not just gonna settle for any old guy and I’m sure that I’m not the only one whose got a list of requirements for their future husband (though I may be the only one daft enough to air them online while I’m still single as all hell). Meghan Trainor released ‘Dear Future Husband’ earlier this year and plenty of feminists (like me) sure do think she got it wrong – I definitely feel like her list should have been a little more realistic…a little more like mine.
Of course I would like all the normal things that anyone would expect of a relationship; respect, love and shared dreams (blah blah blah) – but no one wants to hear about that. You want to hear my obscure diva demands and boy have I got some for you, so without any further hesitation I must present to you the list of 12 requirements (because 12 is my second favourite number, a fact that you WILL know if you wanna put a ring on it) of anyone hoping to wife me;
Must choose dogs over cats Dogs are superior to cats – it’s a scientific fact. Furthermore, I cannot take a cat man seriously – no disrespect, but these kinds’ guys certainly do not make me feel safe and secure. Much like cats, I feel like a guy who like cats will in fact try to suffocate me in my sleep – and not because he’s strangely abusive but because he has a superiority complex. You know it makes sense.
Must be okay with hair Please realise that I am not a dolphin. Yes, there are times where my skin will be silky smooth however there will be other times when you will be concerned that I’m turning into a Chia Pet – you know, those things from the 90s that grow sprouts out of them? I will try to regularly keep it all under control but let’s just put it this way, if he’s not willing to be silky smooth as a cyclist (side note; I probs won’t go for a cyclist) then you can’t give me grief for the occasional slip in standards. Basically, if you’re willing to wax your crack on the reg then I’ll consider putting in more effort.
Must drink (and enjoy) wine You’re not a real man if you don’t like wine – well not in my books anyways. I’ve written about it before – but basically, you must enjoy wine. I don’t need you to know everything there is to know about it (but if you do, please note that I don’t really care – and neither does anyone else). Wine is good – take note fellas.
Must have a star sign that is compatible with mine My star sign is Cancer. This means fuck all – except of course when it comes to figuring out with whom I could in fact be compatible. Let’s be honest though, I’ll twist it in my favour if he’s worth it.
Must be accepting… Of the fact that I’ve already decided on a name for our first born – and our second and third for that matter. Call me crazy (go on, see what happens) but I’ve got some damned good names picked out, so if ya wanna lock this down, just accept the fact that we will not be naming our child after your great-aunt Edna.
Must be okay with Nacho Cheese feet Sometimes (not often, I promise) my feet smell. There was one particular occasion that they smelled like nacho cheese Doritos. I have no explanation for this but it is a thing that happened and who’s to say that it won’t happen again? Be prepared.
Must be able to deal with my chronic fatigue paranoia I don’t stress much and surprisingly I’m not an overly anxious person but every now and then I convince myself (with no solid evidence) that I’m suffering chronic fatigue. On multiple occasions I have ended up in tears, having a tantrum because I think I have chronic fatigue. I’m fine within a few hours though; just ride out the storm with me, okay?
Must understand that carbs are great (and sometimes they are not) Don’t make me eat healthy if I don’t want to but don’t make me eat shit food when I’m trying so god damned hard to ‘be good’ – and I swear to god, if you think that you’re gonna have any opinion on what goes into my mouth then you may as well just give up now. This includes edible and non-edible objects, pay attention.
Must be able to drive a manual It may be a strange measure of man hood but in my mind, real men have the ability to drive a manual. If you can’t drive a car at all, keep on peddling by sweetheart because as hot as your fit bod will probably be, I ain’t gonna dinky on the back of your fixie all the way to your parents house. Oh what was that? We could catch the bus? Been with that guy, done that, those days are in my past buddy.
Must not have nicer hair than me If your hair is nicer than mine, I will inevitably be intimidated. The inequality that this will cause in our relationship will be too much for either of us will handle and will inevitably end in tears.
Must not be too muscular Most girls have a type, my type is basically anyone who doesn’t make me feel inadequate (see above…) therefore, if you’re biceps are bigger than my head then it’s probably not gonna work. Don’t get sneaky on me either; I might have to put a clause in our pre-nup.
Must get along with my Dad My dad is the raddest bloke in the world, closely followed by my brother. They certainly have their flaws – anyone who’s seen my Dad on the dance floor can attest to that however anyone who wants to put a ring on it will need to get along with the main men in my life. The easy thing is that Dad pretty much gets along with everyone but lucky for me he won’t be backwards in telling me if he doesn’t like a guy – believe me, it’s happened before. Oh and some people might think I’m a little bit backwards but I would want a guy to ask my Dad if he was cool with it before asking ME to marry him. I don’t think my Dad needs to give permission as such, but I’d definitely want my Dad to be down with it.
So there you have it – some might call me nuts but I just like to think I’m organised and under control. Trust me ladies, if you don’t think like me you’ll be regretting it down the track when 15 years into the marriage you’re stuck with a cat loving, wine hating body builder with luscious locks flowing in the breeze
Isn’t it funny how sometimes the same reason that you hate a thing, a person, or a place can be the exact same reason that you love them?
When I was younger, I hated Adelaide; I hated this small town, with its quiet streets and familiar places. I hated the cliquey nature of all the social groups and I hated that it was impossible to hide – anywhere you went, you would always bump into someone to know. Everyone has these random, ridiculous stories of whom they bumped into and where – sometimes even on the other side of the world; every single Adelaidian has surely uttered the phrase: “ahh, Adelaide”. It’s always followed by a cautious chuckle, of course.
All these things though, can also be brilliant attributes for our wonderful town. Last night I fell head over heels in love with this beautiful town, all over again.
I’d been having a pretty crappy day and anyone who knows me certainly knows that when I’m saying I had a bad day, there is no exaggeration there. It was the kind of day that in which I was thankful that there are plenty of packing crates stacked up in the warehouse outside my office – they’re perfect to hide behind when you’re on the verge of crying or so full of rage that even the friendliest of soul better not cross your path. I felt like rubbish.
After work I was aimlessly wandering around the Central Market Coles, buying chocolate that I didn’t need – claiming it was ‘a gift for someone’ – yeah, I’m a terrible liar.
Feeling sorry for myself, dazed and confused, I hear over my shoulder; ‘Alicia’ – immediately I turned my head to see my beautiful, wonderful friend Sophie. She’s amazing – the kinda girl that can always make me feel better when I’m feeling down – and I quote “you’re a mutha fucking babe and lots of guys wanna touch your butt” – thanks sweetie, I know I can always rely on you to make me feel wonderful!
So she’s there and I realise I’ve got about 45 minutes to kill before I have to be anywhere. She’s walking to dinner to meet her friends (after stopping by home to drop off the toilet paper she’s just bought – yes, we are adults and make adult purchase decisions sometimes) and do I want to walk with her? Yes. I need her wise words of wisdom in my life – even if they mostly include pointing out that many of the people we encounter in our lives are indeed absolute dicks.
We walk to the pub and I’ve still got fifteen minutes to kill, so I go in with her. Almost straight away I walk into a friend from high school. We chat, Sophie’s friends walk in. Sophie’s friends know my friend.
Welcome to Adelaide – where you’re never alone, all you have to do is leave the house and this beautiful city will open up her arms and hold you in a sweet, (sometimes intrusive, invasive and furiously bitchy) sweet embrace.
Why do I watch bad TV shows and movies? It’s kinda like asking ‘why do you drink terrible wine?’ – except it’s not at all. The answer to the latter question could be simple – ‘because it’s cheap’ – however living close to some of the best wine regions means this is no excuse. My excuse is usually that it was left at our house. It might have been open a while, lost its taste, on top of the fact that it was a bad drop to begin with and yet I’ll still drink it, because I like feeling giddy. I’m doing it right now, in fact. This glass of wine is deplorable – it’s been poured from a bottle of red that’s been open a month. I was using it for cooking and just kind of left it there. Today, on a relaxing Saturday afternoon, my gaze fell upon the wine and I though, well, ‘waste not want not’.
As I wrote the above, I realised there is actually a parallel between bad wine and bad viewing. The wine will get you giddy but the viewing will at least make you feel something – even if it is just the anger at the fact that something so terrible could in fact make its way to a screen near you. As I write this, and drink the terrible wine, I am watching a fine example of this, but I guess that means I should perhaps explain what I mean by bad – because if it really was ‘bad’ then why would I be watching it?!
I mean shitty TV shows – mostly aimed at women and lonely people; the ‘reality shows’ with unrealistic scenarios involving pressurised situations – usually in a kitchen or on a date with a ‘bachelor’ – (and you can’t decide if he actually is good looking or you just think he is because all the women on the show are crazily lusting after him). I’m sure you get the gist. There’s also the ones with the vapid female leads, driven by soul destroying consumerist motives, whose love lives are destined to fail time and time again – until some day they don’t. It’s not real, they’re not nice and I think my head might explode.
I’m talking about horrendous films, the kind that girls get together and watch while sharing a bottle of wine, blocks of chocolate and the tears of ruined relationships. Like the one I’m watching right now – alone, with that disgusting glass of wine that I am actually considering tipping down the sink (but let’s be honest, no matter how bad it tastes, I’ll probably still keep drinking it). It’s bad, I know exactly how it will end – and she certainly won’t end up with the bloke she thinks she will – it’s her quirky off-sider she just met whose currently driving her insane that she’ll marry – not the wealthy doctor who she’s known for four years. Yet, I keep watching it. If my boyfriend were here he’d probably say something like ‘Oh god, why don’t you just get in a hot bath and slit your wrists, that would be less painful than watching this, I think it’s giving you eye cancer.’ – yeah, he’s a sweet heart.
From a technical sense, these flicks aren’t gonna win any acclaim – ditto the TV shows, they might not even break even at the box office but you know what? They’ll certainly make you feel something. Sure that ‘something’ might be a strange mix of happiness that the leading lady got her man, mixed with jealousy that your man may never live up to the high standards set by the on screen gents – or it might just be anger that you’ve wasted your precious time watching something that could potentially be used as torture material in Guantanamo bay.
Netflix tells me that most of these titles fall under the category of ‘feel good’ – and who am I to argue with the beauty that is Netflix?! I don’t know if it’s because they make me ‘feel good’ or because they sooth my brain cells (by not forcing me to use them) but one things for sure; I could be reading a really good piece of literature right now (honest, there is an actual book next to my bed) but I choose to watch this tripe – I, therefore, am no better than an accused terrorist!* Either that or I’m just a sucker for cheap thrills and mind numbing brilliance!
*That may not have been my point, but I’ve drunk a lot of wine now, that may or may not have morphed into poison, therefore my opinion is valid. Very valid indeed.
Oh mi gawd guys, it’s over (sad face!) – but in all seriousness, I am so incredibly simultaneously sad (because this past month was one of the most incredibly amazing of my life and I never wanted it to end) and happy (because I can now get re-antiquated with my bed regularly and get started working on some new projects that I haven’t had time to even contemplate for the last month!)
So I must apologize for the lateness of my write-up; let’s just say that the final weekend of Fringe was big. The biggest. It’s Wednesday and I’m still in recovery mode – my body aches like it never has before (but that could have something to do with the gym sessions) and I’m covered in dance (drinking) related bruises. Regardless, it was all worth it.
So quickly, a summary of the shows that I managed to catch in the last week (and hold on tight because there are certainly some good moments squeezed in here…)
35) Sarah Bennetto’s Funeral – Sarah is gorgeous, funny and a little bit sassy and guess what?! She’s planning her own funeral so her friends and family don’t fuck it up! The theme held her show together incredibly well and allowed Sarah to demonstrate a really good comic range and absolutely shine! A really fun experience!
36) Elf Lyons Being Barbarella – Eeeek! I was SO excited to FINALLY see this show – I’d been wanting to see it earlier in the month and had unfortunately not been able to so I was THRILLED when she announced extra shows. I was not disappointed. Far from it – I was awe struck and inspired. She is the performer that I want to be like. Funny and affable while being incredibly engaging in a very unique manner. The show was tied up in a nice little package, flowed incredibly well and the gorgeous, charismatic Elf Lyons won over the hearts of every single audience member as most of them burst on stage for a dance with her at the end!
37) Michael Bowley Original Cynic – Another great show by a true professional. The hour of comedy was tight and well rehearsed but with plenty of room for improvisation and bouncing off the crowd. Squeezed tightly into a tiny room, the crowed buzzed with glee and seemed to revel in Bowley’s quick wit and polished performance – a little bit naughty with a single C bomb dropped, the show was approachable and fun!
38) Unsound (Festival Show) – My final review show for the 2015 festival season, you can read my full write up here but suffice to say it was a unique experience. I’ve been to an Unsound event in the past and while it’s not 100% my ‘thing’, the noise, experimental and electronic music scene is truly something to behold…
39) Alice Fraser Everyone’s a Winner – We’re all winners for having seen the show – yay! Alice is a talented performer and while this particular show felt disjointed and there were certainly aspects that needed work (the flow and rhythm really wasn’t there, which definitely distracted from her capable performance), Alice is a bubbly little ball of energy and hilarity – I would be keen to see her again in something that makes a little more sense…
SIDE NOTE – part of this show was TOTALLY ruined for me by some INCREDIBLY rude and inconsiderate audience members. A couple who were sitting next to us (I went to the show with my Mum) were talking the whole way through. I was VERY close to telling them to be quiet or just shusshing them, but I didn’t want to come off as a bitch so early on a Friday night. At one point the female got her phone out and was scrolling through the facebook feed. She is the kind of people that I want to tell to just go get fucked.
40) Storytellers Club – The same as last time but totally different – more great communicators telling entertaining stories. You can not go wrong – except that it was a little cold in the beer garden, fuck you early Autumn chill.
41) Fancy Boy Variety Show – With no idea what to expect but with glowing recommendations, I settled near the front for the hour(ish) show. It consisted of a range of sketches, most of which I found hilarious. The ones that I didn’t were still pretty good. The large majority of the audience seemed to agree, although there were certainly those who didn’t – different courses for different horses I guess (and yeah, I think that’s a saying and if it’s not….just go with me on it, okay?)
42) Lunatics (the end of it at least…) – I’m not sure that I can do this justice – the bearpit (the section where comedians allow heckling) got really real, with a few truth bombs being dropped. It was rather intense, however the mood began to lighten and the evening was rounded off with a god quality rap battle and no physical altercations – yay!
43) Le Gateau Chocolat Icons – It was Sunday afternoon and I’d just rolled out of bed “hey, tix for Le Gateau are on halftix, wanna come?” eeek, I was still at the point where I didn’t know if I could hold down water, let alone head out to a show but HEY, it’s last night. Just do it (Nike, please don’t sue me, I’m broke as fuck) – and I’m glad I did! Always a professional, the show was fun with plenty of levels and some beautiful costumes!
aka, the crazy shit that went down before, after and inbetwixt it all. I’ll start with the last Friday night – although I’m sure I’ve forgotten some stuff, this one deserves a ‘special’ mention. I was waiting at The Producers to meet my buddy Josh and the most fabulous (read: outwardly homosexual) man I’ve ever seen in my life approached me (and I’ve partied at Sydney Mardi Gras ladies and gents…). He was all like ‘omigawd you should go see a show with mah friend’ – which I couldn’t, because I was waiting for my friend.
Anyhow, he insisted on buying me a drink – and reiterating the fact that he was into dudes (like the perfectly manicured glittery nails didn’t give that away…) – so while waiting for Josh I sat down for a drink and just as I was thinking ‘I have to blog about this…’ – he called me sassy and shrieked ‘I’MA BLOG ABOUT YOU BITCH’. So great minds think alike, I guess.
When Josh showed up, there is no way my little munchkin of a buddy could be prepared at what was coming for him. Josh is straight (as far as we all know…) and all of a sudden he was the subject of desire for ‘the gayest gay man in the producers’ – (now please don’t take this the wrong way Josh) but I’m not sure he’s been hit on by a lady before, let alone a queen. I think I may have almost died of laughter – and the look of disappointment on the guys face when we FINALLY managed to convince him that Josh is straight? gold. Things were said by that guy that I’m not sure I’m ready to repeat yet but needless to say, he was keen for the D – the D that was attached to poor Josh.
Now I must discuss my Saturday night – having attended a Hens afternoon and proceeded on to my little brothers engagement party, I was in the mood to party (and commiserate that my baby bro is gonna get married before me). Both events were super fun and a rousing success so I proceeded to go back into the city to meet up with the ladies who were still henning on. We ended up at the artists bar, like any good self respecting Adelaideian on the last weekend of Fringe and proceeded to get drunkerer. At that point of the night, drunkerer had become a legitimate term. Next thing I knew I was on the dance floor of the Rhino Room, simultaneously having tequila shots and trying to sweat out all the alcohol I’d been consuming, needless to say, my efforts were fruitless in the face off $5 tequilas.
I danced hard and before we knew it, 5am had arrived. I was with two of my best friends (shouts to Rob and Moe) who I’ve known for an eternity and I couldn’t have asked for a more fun night. After only just mentioning days before that I’d never been to Adelaide institution San Georgio, I was soon seated in the 24hr Italian joint, famous for its early morning alcohol service. Shit get heavy – D&Ms (that’s deep and meaningfuls for all you foreigners) were had and I stumbled into a taxi at 6.30am.
NOW what happend in that taxi will go down in history as one of the most magical experiences of Fringe 2015. To find out more, come see one of my gigs. the written word can not do this justice – and get your mind out of the gutter, it was nothing like that – simply it was one of the funniest taxi experiences I have ever had. Come see me for more.
Closing night at the Fringe club was happiness and sadness. A fantastic festival was being closed, artists were being recognized for their amazing efforts and I was lucky to catch up with so many friends, old and new.
I’m sad but I’m inspired, Fringe 2015, you did me good xx