DAY 35: Super Philosophise Me

5 Oct

I'll be the judge of that.

OH HEY! CHECK OUT THE NEW BLOG: THE SNAKE OIL SKEPTIC!

ALWAYS in need of guidance, I put out the call for toilet wall philosophies I can live my life by. I’ve marked in red the ones the most pertinent ones that I’ll have to tattoo somewhere on myself in Latin.

Here we go.

Make every decision knowing it could be your last – Stacey

If you look like you should be in a band, be in a band  – Michael

Everything in moderation; especially moderation – Helen

Never let fact ruin a good story – Stacey

Clutch and Henry Rollins are the only religions worth following – Stacey

If you fuck it, you fix it – David

Never eat anything bigger than your head – Rick

They who hesitate are lost – Ben

You can’t turn shit into strawberry jam – Libby

This too shall pass – Libby

You’ve only got one shot, do not miss your chance to blow – Eminem (via Cheryl)

Try everything but line-dancing once – Mr Doman (Although, I can actually line-dance, for shame)

Design your own life based on what you’re about and who you are – Miss Kimberlina

Mama is always right – Cheryl

Keep on movin’, don’t look back – Lou

Whip it. Whip it good – Jessamy

Be kind. You never know when you’ll be applying for a job from that prick – Lou

The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience – Atticus Finch (via Cheryl)

HTFU – Cheryl

Change the things you can and accept the things you can’t – Jacqui

Stand for something or you’ll fall for anything – Mikey

Shit ALWAYS works out – Mikey

All truly great thoughts come from walking (or shitting) – Mikey

Ask yourself: Is that a helpful thing to think? – Esther

There is only one thing worse than being talked about. And that is not being talked about – Oscar Wilde (via Jessica)

Always remember, ITS NOT A KIDNEY! (Based on the premise you’re not delivering organs for transplant, so relax) – Lani

If at first you don’t succeed, retreat quietly in case anyone sees – Sam

Walk softly and carry a big stick – Tal

Winning may not be everything, but losing isn’t anything – Ben

Always better to regret something you have done, than to regret something you haven’t. This is also true if you replace the word ‘thing’ with ‘one’ – Alexis

You’re a fucking rapper, fucking rap – music mogul Lyor Cohen (via Mikolai – “I feel this quote can be applied to any career path / occupation / thing that you say you do”)

Sometimes your knight in shining armour is a retard in tinfoil – Mikey

If at first you don’t succeed… perhaps failure is your style – James

Life’s a joke: you either laugh or you don’t get it – Michelle

Nothing worthwhile is ever easy – Michelle’s mum

Never believe your own press – Tal

Repent one day before you die – Tal

A bloke in a country pub once said to me, “I don’t need to believe in God because I believe in me…” I’ve used it ever since – Brendan

Don’t try and solve serious problems in the middle of the night – Tal

Just do it (great marketing slogan) – Lara

Life’s too short to drink bad coffee – 65 Degrees

Less qq more pew pew (means less crying more killing things in computer games) – Tiger

It will get better – Sam

The time is now – Sam

Remember, no matter how crap your life is, there is always someone worse off than you – unless of course you are that last person, which would really suck balls – Mike

My dad mentioned when I was about seven: “A dirty mind is a joy forever” – Mike

Try make at least one person smile every day. If you can’t do that, think of something that makes you smile once a day. If you can’t do that, then shut the fuck up you miserable bastard and stop ruining it for everybody else – Mike

The more it scares you, the more obliged you are to do it – Tamara

Respect the apostrophe – Tamara

When life gives you lemons, grab some tequila and have a party – Quirky Gal

If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all – Lou

Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people – Eleanor Roosevelt, (via Lou)

How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it – Marcus Aurelius (via Volk)

Keeper? Yes.

 

Add your pearls of wisdom in the comment box!

DAY 34: Watching Foxtel at Fed Square with a free cheese toastie

4 Oct

BIT of a rush today… but not too much of a rush to stop at the Coon promotional stall for a cheese toastie and sit and watch Foxtel on the big screen.

Nothing like a bit of home in the city (thankfully there are no Bolivian nose flutes or Holden promotions to spoil the view). I normally grimace politely and continue forth like an interstate truck when I have food thrust at me in the street, but seriously – what am I worried about? What we have here is a big slice of buttery, cheesy manna from heaven, and no one makes any attempt to engage me in conversation or ask me if I’m a friend of Jesus.

Who’s got the remote? Surely Two and a Half Men is on?

Keeper? Sure! I’m not a fan of free cereal though, for future reference.

DAY 33: Tree wailing, tree hugging

3 Oct

THE last year’s been a bit challenging, truth be told.

At one stage in deepest, darkest winter, every time I passed beneath this big tree on the home stretch, something inside would crumple and I’d have a sob till I got to my front door – at which point I’d pull myself together for the sake of the rabbit. It was like some strange sort of Enid Blyton phenomenon; like its branches were a magical portal between the daytime and way-past-someone’s-bedtime. It got to the point where I’d light a cigarette just before I got to the tree, so that I could at least have a nice fag while I was sobbing.

Hang on … let me just wait for this wave of self-pity to pass… (fans face)

Today on the way home I decided to sit down under the tree and wrench the headphones from my ears.  There was a strange low moaning from the branches – and no, it wasn’t me. “Loam loam” it sort of went. I picked out four different bird songs, and the late-afternoon light did quite moving things I will not attempt to describe here. I don’t reckon there’ll be any more wailing beneath the tree. Particularly now daylight saving has come into play and the curtain twitching will be in full force.

Keeper? Yes, will dust off a book on birds.

View from the tree of another tree I'm quite partial to.

DAY 32: Going to the Deni Ute Muster with PMT

2 Oct

WHEN these two dramatic events aligned on my calendar, I’ll admit I was concerned. I’m a joy most days of the month, but on special days I can feel irritation churning like boiling soup; all the scum rising to the surface before exploding in scalding hot bubbles of rage. Still, as long as I avoid loud noises, crowds, jostling, fuckwits, and gets tons of sleep, I should be right.

Fortunately, the Deni Ute Muster turns out to be a breeze, a hoot, and surprisingly laidback. So much so that I decide to brave the ridicule of the RM Williams brigade and climb aboard the mechanical bull. 

Blokes in cowboy hats quickly gather and yell out bumper stickerisms at me: “It works better if you take your top off!” “You can do that for free in my ute!” – but I’d be gutted if they didn’t.

 Keeper? Yahoo!

I cannot BELIEVE this kid is not watching.

DAY 31: Getting a publicist to make all my decisions

1 Oct

Stacey has your Best Interests At Heart.

JEEZ, I’ve made some bad decisions in my time. From the incident with the Sunday supplements, to the run-in with the shopping trolley, to the balls-up with that arseclown… I just seem to get ‘instinct’ muddled up with ‘impulse’.

Stacey is a publicist, therefore it’s her job to know what people should do, more than they could possibly know themselves.  Today, she’s going to run my life for me.

DO NOT STITCH ME UP! I thunder.
Sickness! she replies.

Here are her choices – and the outcomes.

What shall I have for lunch?
Today you will eat ice cream sundae for lunch. And take a picture of it….it MUST have a cherry on top with whipped cream.
Melbourne’s not quite as chi-chi as Sydney, so Stacey fails to realise her suggestion is an unreasonable one. I am forced to buy a McFlurry from McDonalds and decorate it myself with a banana and some blueberries.
 
What will I do in the office today to make people happy?
I think a very large box of chocolates that can be shared around……..an afternoon full of good tunes, a cheese platter and wine for a little afternoon social event, or an office plant. I don’t know these people so it’s hard to know what would make them happy.
I’m that person who always sidles up during the last few notes of Happy Birthday, grabs a piece of cake and skulks back to their desk like Gollum with his precious hoard. Now I realise how gratifying it is to be the bearer of cake and give people a brief brain-spike of sugar love for no reason whatsoever.

Who shall I write a card/letter/email to?
You can write to your seventh grade English teacher………tell them why you hated / liked their class.  
I’ve always felt bad my seventh grade English teacher copped it. He was the only teacher that reached out, and he got his hands slapped smartly back for his efforts, as I roadtested my Traci-Lords-in-Crybaby staredown. Little did he know he was supposed to try harder. I’ll come back to this one… if I can remember his name.
 
What will I talk about during my date tonight?
You will talk about neuro plasticity and how scientists now realise that the brain is not actually a machine like organ, they have discovered it is plastic and can change and mutate at will to make up for any of its failings or injuries. And it will be fucking fascinating.
I owned up to this challenge, and he told ME all about neuroplasticity.

No, try again.
You can talk about how the Chief Minister of Dehli is called Sheila Dickshit…..but no one seems to make fun of it….is it because people are no longer funny or because we have politically corrected all the funniness out of life because it can be seen as being mean. Then you can talk about fake tan, and if that gorgeous orange glow is more attractive to men than a pale, untanned skin.

Shall I wear the Tralala-in-Last-Exit-to-Brooklyn dress, or the NY-door-bitch dress?
You shall wear which ever one makes you feel most comfortable at the time of trying them on. If you are comfortable you will be irresistible.
It turned out they were both ‘you’re not going out wearing that’ dresses, but I just accepted the fact I would not be able to ascend any stairs in front of anybody.

DAY THIRTY: Having a knee-trembler on a Yamaha FZ1N

30 Sep

I forgot my protective pants. And my skirt.

“I’M so bored of thinking about myself,” I complain to Steve Crombie, Professional Adventurer, raconteur and author of ace new book Lost On Earth. He’s an expert on how to give your life a kick up the arse, but on a day-to-day basis he recommends not taking things personally, practicing the art of detachment and living in the moment. Headphones out, phone off, then.

We’re going to test the latter by going out for a ride on his motorbike in Sydney’s Surry Hills. “I look like a hooker,” I warn him as I climb on the back in my poorly thought-out ‘slut-but-punk-slut’ gear. He laughs approvingly.

I shouldn’t really have expected any different, but upon weaving smoothly out of the garage, Steve takes off like a missile down Foveaux Street and pops a wheelie. We’re hooning so fast my mind barely registers we’re only half on the ground, before he bombs around a corner and breaks sharply at the light. “Mum would kill me,” flits through my head, then I look down and see my undies staring back at me. She’d be proud, too.

We stop for a caffeine break to really send my adrenal glands into overdrive, and I wipe away tears that have appeared from somewhere; like from the g-force, probably. “Have you had an epiphany yet?” Steve asks intently, as I spasm my coffee all over the saucer.

On the way back, Steve yells something that sounds exactly like: “We’re going to jump straight over that intersection,” and next thing you know we’re home. As we pull in, he grabs my rattling thigh and laughs, “I didn’t know I could have that effect on someone.”

It’s a pretty amazing feeling, completely putting your trust in someone who could skin you alive with one wrong move. I’m still laughing as I board my flight to Melbourne. Damn it, I don’t want to be sitting still on a plane right now. Hopefully the pilot does a loop-the-loop.

Keeper? I’m driving next time.

Keep track of Steve’s adventures here:
Twitter: stevecrombie
Lost On… www.loston.com
Facebook: Steve Crombie

DAY TWENTY-NINE: Following hot guys around the airport

29 Sep

There's one, on the left.

LOOK, obviously I have done this before, but not with a camera. This may seem like a lame, last-minute entry to you, but if you think about it, wandering around the security checks of Tullamarine (Perth Airport would have been hotter) with a loudly clicking iPhone is quite risky. 

Keeper? Duh. Yeah

Keep still, ya little bugga!

.

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Zumba!

28 Sep
WORDS little-used in my world: ‘Fusion’. ‘Funky’. ‘Booty’. ‘Jelly’. And yet, and yet… tonight, at zumba class, we’ll be using them all liberally.

Zumba crept up behind us all and goosed us like a pervert last year. Originating in Colombia in the 1990s, it’s inspired cult-like fervour, blending reggaeton and variations of Latin dancing in an inanely upbeat, strangely brainwashy, supposedly sexual manner. For many, it’s clearly a great opportunity to breakout ’80s gym wear.

“We’re never gonna see these people again,” I reassure Ben and Natalie en route to Zumba World, before Natalie cunningly rolls her ankle and hobbles off.

“Tummies in, coconuts out!” yells out our instructor, who looks a bit like Shakira. In fact, strange remixes of Shakira and Lady Gaga are heard wailing from every room, presumably with backwards messages implanted. “If you start feeling sick,” our instructor says, worryingly, “just stop.”

The instructor wriggles around like an electric eel, but I can’t get the hang of this wobbling malarkey. Ben and I find ourselves ill equipped to shake what our mamas gave us – we’re more like ironing boards set to vibrate. In the jumpy numbers I feel like a grinning skull on a pogo stick.

The routines are fast, and range from unco children’s party flailing to x-rated hokey-cokey – I’m pretty sure our instructor’s making them up as she goes along. In fact, a future adventure might be to wear some undies over my tights, infiltrate a zumba class and lead it. To glory!

Keeper?
Sure, next time the infomercial comes to my lounge-room.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: Making a last will and testament

27 Sep

FOR the bargain price of $24.95 I download will stuff from a website that mutters into its fist that it is “not a legal practice and nothing in the documents provided constitutes legal advice”.  Which must be true, because surely lawyers can afford proofreaders? I am obliged to go through the official looking bumf with a red crayon, correcting things.

Keeper? Yep. It’s under my bed.

DAY TWENTY-SIX: Handling a snake

26 Sep

It's like a snakey nunchucks.

LIKE any English, I am obsessed with stumbling across a snake in the wild. Everyone in Castlemaine has nonchalant tales of doing so (when they can tear themselves away from recounting the various ways you can slay rabbits), but I’m yet to see one of the slippery customers.

At Melbourne Zoo, I am smuggled ‘backstage’ by friend Lou and settle for a hold of this wee red wriggler, which is smooth, oily and immediately tries to get in my dress (insert Wog Boy-style joke here). It’s not big enough to recall the phallic rearing-cobra nightmares of my childhood, but its devious forays around my waist (this serpent clearly has ambitions to be a belt) scare me off after 30 seconds regardless.

Keeper? Yeah, I’ll work my way up to the serious bastards.