Turn of phrase

There's been some amusing twisted phrases out of Rancho Clumsy this week:

Talking about a new acquaintance, I referred to not knowing this bloke "from a bar of Adam".

And Greg surprised himself while discussing how his success at study will require a good deal of personal responsibilty, saying "The University's not going to organise my balls".

He meant to say "the ball's in my court", but the tennis analogy got lost somewhere along the way (Don't even ask why Greg has balls on the brain).

Seriously, with this kind of literary awkwardness, we could write a Kath and Kim episode.

Anybody else got some sterling examples of clumsy speech?

An Open Letter to Britney Spears

Dear Britney,

It's no secret that you've had a pretty rough couple of weeks. Radical image changes, rehab, public explosions of anger, looming child custody battles - it hasn't been a good time for you. The massive media attention can't be helping; indeed, as a journalist, I know it must only be making matters worse. What you need is some down time, somewhere far away from the U.S. paparazzi. Somewhere you can just have time to clear your head.

So I would cordially like to invite you to come to stay with me, Girl Clumsy, at my new apartment in beautiful Brisbane, Australia. I've only just moved in so the place is still clean, and you'll have your own room and bathroom. I also have a really, really cool new red lounge suite (you'll love it).

I've had my problems with anger in the past - you should have seen how mad I got when I wasn't cast in my school's play back in 1996. I had to go and see the Head of Students and everything. So I know what it's like for everyone to think you're a freak, and what it feels like when everyone's watching you and waiting to see what your next mistake will be. I know that at my house, no one will judge you, and you can just relax.

If you come and stay at my house, we can play Monopoly, or Cranium. I have heaps of DVDs we can watch. Do you like Futurama? But if you want to be mostly by yourself, that's fine too. I'm at work full-time, so you'll have to get yourself lunch, and sometimes dinner. I'll make sure the fridge is stocked, and there's lots of nice cafes in our area.

Please consider my offer. I'd really like to help you get back on your feet. But please don't think I'm telling you what to do. God knows you've had enough of people telling you what to do your whole life. If you do decide to come down to Brisbane, I hope it's 100 per cent your own decision.

Hope to see you soon,

Girl Clumsy.

P.S. I really liked what Craig Ferguson had to say about you! He seems like a nice Scottish man.

On the Box

I have been reliably informed by several people who've seen the promo ads that I will be on the telly tonight.

I did an interview with Today Tonight about a month ago for a segment they were doing on scratchie winners. I thought I must have missed its air date - but apparently not, they've just been holding it because it's obviously such a hot story. Ahem.

With the whole "elderly lady in chains conveniently supplied by the TT reporter" fiasco, it's probably not the best week to be featured on tabloid current affairs TV. But oh well.

6:30pm Friday 23 February
Channel 7

Look for the chick with the big hair, and a lack of proper grooming.

A Love that dare not speak its Name

Until yesterday, I never believed it was possible to be sexually attracted to furniture.

But then, my new lounge suite arrived...

Oooh.... so red. So sexy. So reminiscent of a 1920s Parisian bordello.

Of course I picked it out in the shop, so I knew what it looked like, but that was six weeks ago, and actually seeing it in my living room in all of its red suede glory is like taking a bath in chocolate while eating chocolate and dreaming about chocolate.

To add to the saloon-like feel, I today had my DIY-lovin' Dad round to help put up my Paris-themed art prints in a 3X3 fashion...

The prints themselves were bought Seine-side while in Gay Paris last October, but the frames are $2.99 jobs from "The Warehouse". The prints include a couple of Toulouse-Lautrec's popular paintings of the Montmatre/bohemian life, as well as some turn-of-the-century advertisements and my favourite, a from-behind portrait of the famous cabaret dancer (and French Resistance fighter) Josephine Baker. My grandmother Pat, who's down from Vanuatu at the moment, saw that print, and told me that my late grandfather Maciej actually SAW Baker perform live when he was a 17-year-old naval cadet on R&R in the French capital. Apparently he never forgot Josephine Baker and her bananas. So there you go - a sweet, if somewhat bizarre, link with my Grandad.

The roses on the table and the gorgeous crystal vase they're in are courtesy of my Gran. I also had a visit from my mentor Robyn, who very kindly gave me a set of gorgeous tumblers and a wok as a house-warming gift. My mother has also chipped in (again) with a bucket-and-sticks arrangement for the front entrance. With all these things, my previously messy bit of space is now becoming more like a home, albeit with a slightly brothel-y feel!

The Curious Incident of the Cockroach in the Dishwasher

I have very few complaints about my new abode, but I would like to remark on an increasingly-common occurence in my kitchen. I am blessed to have a mini-dishwasher, but I am obviously not the only one to enjoy it. At least twice a week, I open my dishwasher drawer only to have a mammoth cockroach jump out at me.

Why are they in there? What can be so appealing about being spun around the pots and pans in a whirl of Finish powder and blue rinsing liquid? Why has my household appliance been turned into a theme park for vermin, the insect-equivalent of the Gravitron?

The very existence of the cockroach, to me, basically rules out any credibility to the "creationism", sorry, "intelligent design" theory. If there indeed is a "creator", sorry, "designer", why in seven types of quick-drying cement would he/she/it invent the cockroach? What possible purpose does this tiny beast fulfil, apart from annoying and freaking out homeowners who simply want to do the dishes?

I'm not afraid to admit I'm a wee bit paranoid about cockroaches. I date that back to a time when one crawled up the leg of my jeans - while I was in them. Once you've had a creature creeping, tickling on your upper calf, you never really trust that creature again.

Daydreaming

My friends, it's been too long. Stuff has been happening in the ol' Land O'Nat, but I've been waiting for some motivation to write to kick in before plastering my thoughts all over the interwebby once more. That same mental blockage is also hampering my attempts to update my movie review page - I really must take a long drink of creative Metamucil to really get things flowing again (possibly the wrong choice of metaphor there, but I'm sure you get the picture).

But let me start by listing a few recent points of interest.

Wedding belles. Last weekend I tripped up to the lovely Daydream Island, for the nuptials of my dear friend Jacqueline (or "Jax" as we call her) to her English beau Ben. The couple have the cutest kid this side of the Jolie-Pitt family, and young Harrison was on hand to be the page-boy at their charming sunset ceremony in a chapel overlooking the sea. Everyone had a great time, and looked fabulous - as you can see in my pictures, including this one:

Yours truly, Briony, Carly, Jax, Clare, Alisha & Debbi

These are "the girls", and although we have our scrapes from time to time, I love 'em all really. ;) Thanks Jax & Ben for inviting me - I know you'll have the Best. Marriage. Ever.

Working girl. I've been back at 4BC for a few weeks now working casually, and I've been enjoying myself immensely. I've jumped back into the movie-reviewing lark, and have seen about 7 films in the past couple of weeks. Hence the difficulty of getting all my thoughts on paper for the aforementioned review site.

Breaking the Girl. Well, breaking the boy really. The one and only Wah was shocked to learn his bones were not actually made of adamantium, when he went arse-over-handlebars on his bike and fractured his elbow. He does however possess something of Wolverine's mutant healing ability in that he RODE HOME with only slight pain, and it wasn't until two hours after the crash did he phone me saying "I think I've broken my arm - will you take me to hospital?". We'll find out soon how long he'll have to remain in a cast/sling.

Homegirl. Life in an inner-city apartment is even better than it looked like in "Sex and the City". (Except for the shoes... I really need to get a lot more shoes). We still have very little furniture, and we still have a garbage sorting area instead of a living room, but the location is great, the street is surprisingly quiet at night, and I love my kitchen. But that's about as domestic as I get. There's a lot of clothes-washing that needs to be done, let me tell you.

Well, that should be enough for now. I plan to write more in this blog, but I'd like to write more interesting things than "Today I got up and went to work"-style posts.

Anyone got any suggestions for starters?