FOR KERRIE...ALWAYS IN MY THOUGHTS

I still remember the first day Kerrie came along and introduced herself to me. It was 1984 and I was spending another lunch time sitting by myself at school. Think private Catholic College, full uniform including tie and the usual religious scowls from the brothers and sisters who rammed religion down our throats. The few male friends I had we're always running off to the oval to play sport, something I wasn't interested in, so being the shy, delicate flower that I was, I would spend most lunches sitting by myself, hoping no one would notice me.

One day, my worst nightmare was realised when this girl sauntered up to me with a few of her friends in tow and demanded to know if I had any friends. Of course I protested and announced my popularity, explaining that I wasn't interested in going to the oval with them and chose to stay in the main courtyard waiting for lunch to finish. This didn't seem to satisfy Kerrie, she detailed how she had observed me over the past few days sitting by myself, looking lonely and shy and had decided that she and her friends would now be my friend, so I wouldn't have to sit alone anymore. How amazing is that? This 14 year old girl taking the initiative to reach out to someone who was painfully shy and frequently alone.

I can still remember that day vividly, mostly because her questions and my replies would be rubbed in my face for years to come. Unfortunately one of the ice breakers Kerrie chose to ask was "who's your favourite band?" Now at that age I wasn't even listening to the radio, wasn't buying records and wasn't aware of music unless it was my parents Lionel Richie, Helen Reddy, Boney M or ABBA albums. So in a mad panic I chose the band that immediately sprung to mind. The band? Men At Work! For some reason "Down Under" found its way to the front of my brain and before I could bite down on my tongue and sever it to prevent me from forming the words, I actually said it. I'm sure you could hear the screams inside my head from the other side of the school. You could certainly hear the screams of laughter and ridicule from kerrie and her friends...my secret shame...not so secret now, gulp.

Yes my future friend, when confronted with that answer, this delightful girl who had minutes earlier reached out to this shy boy, pretty much threw her head back and all but pissed herself laughing like I had told the joke of the century. Now one trait of mine, especially when I was younger and a lot less extroverted, was to go bright red in the face whenever the focus was on me or I was embaressed. So you can imagine the shade of red I turned. In fact it's safe to say Kerrie and her friends bore witness to the first human to actually morph into a chamelion and pretend they were pressed flat against a big fuck off fire engine trying to become one with its vivid redness. Once the laughter had died down, probably in 1986...kidding, Kerrie mentioned the band INXS.

I had never heard of them of course but Kerrie's face immediately lit up as she went into detail about how great they were, how I had to hear them and how she would do a mix tape of them and bring it to school the very next day so I could listen to them for myself. She was true to her word and the next day INXS became my favourite band in the world, or at the very least, the only cool one I knew. Kerrie's passion for them knew no bounds, she even wrote a brilliant letter about our local FM radio station (one that I now do voiceovers for) telling either 'Rolling Stone' or 'Countdown' magazine how revolutionary they were for playing real, aussie music (FM radio was a much more underground beast back in the early days of the 80's). It was so well written it was of course printed in the very next issue much to all of our delight.

I had some of the greatest laughs of my life with Kerrie, stupid things that if I tried to recount now would seem pointless and hardly worth a smile. We've all got those classic moments that strangers write off as 'had to be there' moments. Special things that only the two of us understood and appreciated, shared moments that are still burned on my all too foggy memory. Kerrie was what some would call a dag, but also the life of the party, the sort of person who could draw a conversation out of anyone and make them feel like they were the only one that mattered. She was a natural journalist because she was genuinely interested in what other people thought, believed and experienced. She was also brilliantly funny with an intelligence to back it up. She was all kinds of fuck off amazing wonderful and I am so lucky to have had her as a close friend. I need to keep recalling memories of Kerrie and I also need to move on a start writing again. So my thoughts and happenings will return to this page and so will stories of Kerrie. As they come to me I'll give them the space to breathe on this blog for others to read and share.

If you didn't know Kerrie you can never understand how truly incredible she is. Her memory will remain with me FOREVER. I don't want this to end up sounding like one of those annoying emails that encourages you to send it to your 5 best friends to show them how much you love them, but I will say this. Find those special people in your life and keep them close because they mean more to you than you will ever know.

APOLOGIES

Hey kids, not sure if anyone cares but haven't felt the need to scribble on this thing for a very long time. I lost a magnificent and beautiful soul to cancer a few months back and want the next words I write to be a tribute to her incredible and wonderful impact on my life. True friends are a beautiful thing, saying goodbye to them when you aren't ready to let them go is heart breaking. I love you Kerrie wherever you are and I look forward to celebrating you within these pages soon, still holding onto tears and a fragile heart for you. Best friends in this life and the ones to follow forever.

me

CHILL TO THESE GROOVES FUCKO

Friday night ahead of a 3 day long weekend, just gone 10pm, listening to a new CD put together on iTunes with a couple of classics and some new favourites. In true 'mosexual style have titled it 'MY NAME AND HUBBY'S NAME FAVOURITES' hmmm if you know both our names then that title will make more sense. If you don't know our names, just pick two names at random and fashion them for us, then insert the names you've chosen in the right places, add an apostrophe and an 's' on the end of hubby's name and then it all becomes clear. Geez I think it is safe to say it is a veritable faggot explosion using a name like that on a fucken mix CD, lets get a grip people some sick came up into my mouth as I was writing it. Not because I actually hate the idea, just that it seems soppy and girlie to admit to it on a 20 inch screen, it's kinda screaming at me.

Note to self...think of better titles for all future mixes. So now chatting to hubby on phone and loving this mix which has inspired me into writing them here so you can go online and download them for yourself. Not sure if they are all available through iTunes cos most of them came from my personal collection but give it a try if this stimulates parts of your funk bone.

NINA SIMONE - I PUT A SPELL ON YOU
JEFF BUCKLEY - EVERYBODY HERE WANTS YOU
PETER GABRIEL/KATE BUSH - DON'T GIVE UP
1 GIANT LEAP (ROBBIE WILLIAMS & FAITHLESS) - MY CULTURE
BOMB THE BASS - BUG POWDER DUST (LA FUNK MOB MIX)
GNARLS BARKLEY - CRAZY
GROOVE ARMADA - SUPER STYLIN'
NATALIE IMBRUGLIA - WRONG IMPRESSION
ESKIMO JOE - SMOKE
FAITHLESS - I WANT MORE
BEYONCE - CHECK ON IT (KING KLUB MIX)
RIHANNA - S.O.S.
AMERIE - 1 THING

Do you love it? It slides along really nicely and that remix of Beyonce is fucken awesome, not really a fan of that song but the remix breathes new life into it. Alright need to go back to focusing on my conversation with the hubby.

'Lovinyoufromherecheckyalaterseeyabye'

THE STORY SO FAR...

Afternoon kids, or evening or morning or geez have you got some drug habit or do you do shift work cos no-one should be up this late...I think that is officially the longest intro to a printed rave ever. So last night was spitting venom and the usual bitchy onslaught at the television because Big Brother is back for a 6th season in Australia (so indulgent thinking someone outside Australia might actually stumble on this blog and read it) but the wheels are in motion again, that was truly a toolish and fucked up statement that one. Last night Gretel passed out her introductions for a cavalcade of Barbies and Kens. It looks like a fashion shoot for steroid munching, self assured energy vampires who kind of remove the air from the room when they are confined in a small space. They're here and they want everyone in the room to know about it...fact is some of them may well be lovely, fun loving people but in the right situation you know you would probably go each one with a Braun Stab Blender given the chance. Just to stop them from crapping all over your aura or whatever the hell you call that funk that makes you...you. Am II making sense? Let me tell you I'm re-reading it over and over again just to make sure this remains slightly funny without skipping with gay abandon into mental case land.

So yeah I could rabbit on for ages about who shits me, who is 'mosexual and who just needs to pull her face out of the 70's sun lamp and try and repair that 19 year old skin that looks like it should be shrink wrapped around an old lady with more cash then sense. It's like she's been smeared with vegemite and melted lolly bananas. No wonder it's a virgin, when you slide into bed with something that glows in the dark like some kind of fractured nuclear power plant you know you ain't interested. So Monday afternoon today and the operator of this keyboard is exhausted and potentially demented from working all weekend and having too little sleep. I sit before you making mouth love to 4 pieces of gum as I try and absorb any sweetness I can from their tired rubbery confines. It is a lost cause, this thing is only good for blowing bubbles with and even that is becoming more difficult. Having no refined sugar in ones diet does things to your cravings. Wish I was chewing cake! In the future I will chew synthetic bubble gum that replicates the exact taste of your favourite foods, not in a

'How the fuck did they honestly believe that this can of pine forest aerosol spray smells like a real pine forest'

way but in a

'Which fucko removed the gum from my mouth and replaced it with real, live fuck off cake flavour"

It probably won't be made available until around the time they replace my pensioner style teeth with steely, white cosmetic teeth designed by a super computer. I think the future will be fun and if it isn't then I'll write a letter to some crappy newspaper complaining of how the future was gonna be better back in my day. Anyway I have had enough of re-reading this all the time and there is a new episode of the Simpsons to watch with my tattoo inspired hero 'Sideshow Bob' in it so it's time too publish and bail on this.

View ya

NOW I HAVE VERBAL DIARRHEA...OF THE ONLINE KIND

Yo Mands, thanks for the comment, much as I am shocked that someone actually comes to this blog to see if I've got anything to say, I am also floored that someone is so dedicated that they check this palaver every now and then just to see if I am keeping up my end of the type and enter bargain. Apparently one person reads this blog with some sort of regularity, Mands I think I love you more than I already do.

So now I feel obliged to add something more entertaining than just a random thankyou...So what is news? Well I will be without the iMac for a few hours tomorrow as my disc drive collapsed and died a hideous death in the midst of me adding Nina Simone onto iTunes...the very idea. Why it decided to throw itself off the edge of some techno cliff is beyond me but even more head fuck worthy is the fact that it did it within 3 weeks of me purchasing the thing.. According to Apple Care I am a one in a million customer as it hasn't happened to them in years. One in a million huh, so do I get anything for my unique status? But of course not, just the inconvenience of having to take this thing to work with me tomorrow so some guy can pick it up and fix it for me.

Anyway now that I have wasted a paragraph on that info allow me to reveal something much more entertaining that actually alludes to the title of this entry. So it was hubbys birthday last month and we decided to celebrate with drinks at our place. Now drinks with hubby usually start early so we decided to get stuck into the action around 11am on a Saturday morning. Being the big 'mosexual that I am I decided to whip up a tres sheikh mixer, write this down cos it fucken rocks as a vodka mixer...

FUCKO INC 'MOSEXUAL MIXER

1 cup of white sugar
2 cups of water
1 organic vanilla pod split in half lengthways, seeds scraped out
lemon zest from 1 lemon
lemon juice from half a lemon
1 saucepan
1 wooden spoon
a source of heat (we're talking a hotplate not your pants area)

Place the vanilla pod and scraped out vanilla seeds in the water and the sugar in a saucepan and place on a low heat, stir with the wooden spoon until the sugar has dissolved into the water, the best way to check this is to check the back of the wooden spoon, if you can see grains of sugar on it still then it aint dissolved, just keep the temperature low and keep stirring, it shouldn't take too long. Once all dissolved add the lemon juice and zest (you can other flavours if you prefer something other than lemon or vanilla like orange zest or cinnamon or fucken cumquat if it takes your fancy...the flavouring is your choice) Once it is cool pour a splash into your vodka add some lemonade or soda water and enjoy.

My big problem was that I decided a nice treat for hubby and myself would be to grab one blender, tip a huge splash of vodka in, a sprinkle of 'mosexual mixer and a few handfuls of ice and blend to make one big fuck off slushie. The problem with this idea is that it was so yummy that we were hoovering them like they were going out of fashion. So after 2 hours of up ending my head and pouring them down my throat like here was a fire in my belly and that was the only way to extinguish it a few guests arrived. I kept mixing and pouring and head tilting and chatting and then someone handed me a sweet baby J and it was laced with tobacco which kicked in my head spins and sent me running for the toilet bowl.

From this moment on the story gets less than pretty and completely shameful, but what the fuck do I care, nothing better than using your humiliation to entertain others I say. So using the time honoured skills of friends who remember everything and my own limited memories here is what happened. Yes I impersonated a dinosaur over the toilet bowl, yes I howled like a t-rex on heat and yes I coughed up everything in my stomach. What I don't remember is passing out on the floor for a few hours and treating my boxer shorts like a toddler that hasn't been toilet trained. When I finally struggled to my feet my pants had a little extra hmmmm lets just say it was carry on baggage of the sort no one wants to clean up. My friends apparently left about an hour after I locked myself in the bathroom and of course hubby was making regular visits to make sure I didn't need an ambulance, thankfully he didn't notice anything thick in the air. Although that didn't stop me from telling him all about it when I finally opened the door.

So if you've read the archives you will know that the idea of me drinking usually ends in disaster and even at the ripe old age of 36...37 in July, I still can't seem to sort my shit out...scuse the pun. On that note it's time to bail, come back for more soon, if you dare.

I GOT SOMETHING TO SAY...AGAIN

I know, I know, I could once again waste time doing the big explain but the truth of the matter is, I've been fucken busy. New job, new city, new life, its all fucken new kids. I'm as shiny and fresh as a botoxed butt on some try hard celeb and I'm loving it. At least when I sit down I can feel my arse and even though I haven't checked, I'm sure it is wrinkled in some way shape or form and at the very least it's more expressive and can show bucketloads more emotion than Nicole Kidman can. I so can't be bothered filling you in on all the nitty gritty and of course one must retain ones secret identity, so it is safe to say I've left Melbourne (boo hoo) and taken up residency in Bris-Vegas (friggen hot).

Things are getting better weather wise thank fuck...oh God I am officially a nanna. Into my second paragraph and already I am crapping on about the weather, hang on gotta go get my travel rug. Phew now it's fucken hot again, anyhow I will persist with my temperature ramble as it finally seems like it is getting bearable around here. It has taken me ages to get used to the steamy, crotch rotting stench of top end weather, what is with mother nature anyway? Silly bitch making it too hot even for soft, doughy white ladies like me. Thank God for air conditioning, now I can spend my days going from frigid, arctic like temperatures to tropical heat, then back into the chill, then out into the heat again. It is so good for one's immune system I think.

Finally threw the money down on a dishy new Apple iMac, the big arse 20 inch screen edition, which I am staring into now like some kind of wanton whore, drives me crazy. It is so hot right now and if it wasn't so dangerous I am sure I would give it regular licks. As it is, I just snuggle up to it and throw it loving glances whenever I have to wander away from its never ending glow. Whilst I indulge this weird, slightly sick affair with an inanimate object, I am occasionally reminded of the card I slid it on to purchase it, which always turns up once a month to remind me of my tawdry affair and rub my face in it, she is a hateful ex mistress. Righto, now I feel like I'm some kind of talk to myself tragic. Like that was a revelation.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that with my in house connection I will hopefully be spending more time writing little anecdotes from my life and boring you senseless with my thoughts, stories and ideas. You're excited already aren't you? Thought so, watch this space kids...I promise.

YOU LOVE ME, YOU REALLY LOVE ME

Hello kids, or adults, or senior citizens, or drooling vegetables who surf the internet using an intricate set of pulleys, some strategically placed pencils and one of those wicked dogs that can pick up remote controls, cross streets, hand over your wallet, open doors and wipe your arse for you. Actually they probably don't do the wiping for you, but they pretty much do everything else. In fact you need one of those little spider monkeys rescued from a laboratory somewhere for the intricate butt work. Now I'm laughing to myself about the image of a helper monkey that wipes your retarded arse for you. How fucken funny would that be, I can see the monkey doing that screaming thing they do when you dress them in dolls clothes and make them ride a tiny bike for the benefit of a bunch of snotty nosed kids. They'd be doing that scream while they shook the piece of loo paper free from their wee little hands, panic struck that you are gonna fall back on top of them with a half wiped ring piece that smothers the last bit of breath from their little lungs. Life must be shit for little monkeys, I hope people are nice to them.

Anyway let's talk about me. It's my topic of choice at all the quiz shows I'm invited onto, as fucken if. Though if I was invited on one, all the black holes within my memory would mean I'd fail and get kicked off the show with sweet fuck all but a copy of the show converted into some lame arse version of a board game. The sort of game you wouldn't play even if it was snowing outside, the log cabin was sealed in and all forms of entertainment were gone but that game. In fact it wouldn't even be useful as fire wood, because it would be filled with toxic game pieces and all that shit. So lets get back on track shall we? Here I am talking to myself via keyboard and being rather pleased that some strangers have been reading this blog and actually enjoying it. Interesting for me, mainly because some of my close friends and the occasional work colleague who has taken the time to visit this place have been so close to accepting a couch in a therapy session somewhere that it is starting to worry me. I mean I know I go off on tangents and ramble on about all sorts of shit but hey that is what this is meant to be about. Also as my readership is close to nil I feel pretty free to write whatever the fuck I like without repercussions or objections. So clearly if someone reads this and goes

"Yo fucko, your blog rocks"

It only encourages me. So to all of you who have sent me positive mentions, what am I up to now, three? I think you fucken rock my jocks and stuff, even though I wear boxers and that. But you get the idea. Jesus, clearly when I'm flattered I start to type like a fucken moron. Oh and what is the fucken story with the cock smacks that send me positive comments about my site only to tag it with links to buying Xmas trees. What kind of fuck knuckle is searching for Xmas trees online and happens to stumble on my blog. Please don't treat me like a fucken dead shit and think I'm stupid enough to believe that you like my site and just wanted to point me in the direction of a great website for buying Xmas trees. I don't think I have ever referenced trees of the Christmas variety EVER, well until now. Clearly if you have to spend your days posting shit like that on blogs like mine you are working in a niche industry that no one gives a fat rats arse about and you should maybe investigate a sideline of selling parts of your body and brain for research projects. Why I would be keen to purchase a tree from the UK makes no sense either. If you have read this blog and enjoyed it by all means leave a comment as it encourages me to write more frequently and tell your friends. I would link to other blogs I read but unfortunately I am a techno wronger when it comes to this thing and no matter how many times I have tried to add links and make this more pretty it doesn't work. Aint it funny how most help sections on these things do little to help and more to confuse, is that just me? Probably, anyway moving on, thanks for reading and I promise more soon.