Cousins

Among my swag of Christmas goodies was a sweeeet Nikon D80 digital SLR camera. Oooooh, but it's lovely. Now if only I could work out how to use it properly, I'd be laughing.

Thankfully, it has the almost-failsafe idiot's remedy of an "Auto" function, and I used that today on the Gold Coast during a spot of lunch with the Clumsy progenitors, plus my aunt, uncle and two rapscallion young cousins. These are my favourite shots:

This is very meta, as Tiffany and Amber were mucking about with a camera plugged into the TV set on "live view" mode. Tiffany - closing in on 13 and about to start high school - is doing her best mugging. She's actually a stunning young lady, a fact not lost on her Dad, who's quite confident he'll be able to keep her house-bound until she's 35.

 

This is Amber - just turned 10 and all scrawny energy. She just doesn't eat.

I wish I could be like that.

Yes indeed - 2009 will probably be the year I bug the hell out of blog readers with my attempts at proper photography.

A Very Dalek-y Christmas

Christmas gets pretty festive in a mega-geek way 'round at Chez Clumsy:

 

The decorative Dalek tree is not only a cheery addition to any living room, but has the added bonus of being able to scare off any burglars trying to nick off with the stash of goodies.

And please note the Dalek's glittery tiara. He's terrifying, yet so pretty!

This entry is notable for another reason besides tinsel-covered sci-fi villains. It's actually the 400th post here on girlclumsy.com. It all began as a travel blog back in '04, and I guess by many blog standards, an average of a 100 posts per year is fairly weak. But I like to think most of them have been reasonably entertaining to read; that's certainly my goal in writing.

I hope you all have a very happy Christmas with your family and friends. I thank you for reading girlclumsy.com, and hope you'll stick around for the next 400 posts!

On the Nice List

One of my favourite things about Christmas is the annual "Santa-sleigh-tracking" story. Each year, Air Services Australia put out media releases and provide interviews to TV and radio stations about Santa's flight plan, forecast conditions, and the various tracking devices they have on Rudolf's red nose. It's always very cute.

This year, they've got a special Santa Claus feature on their website, with daily online games relating to various North Pole pre-Christmas activities. Apparently today is when St Nick does his final check of the "Naughty or Nice" list, and there's a section where you can enter your own moniker, and see whether Santa found out about that arrest for wilful exposure or not:

Obviously I'm safe.

But then I wondered - exactly how exacting are Santa's standards?

 

Hmmm.

But wait, there's more:

HOLY S**T, PEOPLE, SANTA IS A F***ING SITH. SOMEBODY CALL OBI-WAN KENOBI.

If you're bored, have a go. It's hours of Christmassy entertainment.

He Died With a Felafel in His Hand

Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the impending return to Brisbane of one of the all-time cult/classic/comedy Australian plays:

John Birmingham's classic tale of share-housing "He Died With a Felafel in His Hand" makes its debut at the Brisbane Arts Theatre on Friday 27 March, and plays through until Saturday 2 May (with the exception of Easter week).

I'll be directing the show; and I'd like to send a big thank-you to author John Birmingham and playwright Simon Bedak for being incredibly supportive. Simon has even updated the script for this show - throwing in a tonne of local and topical references just for the Briz Vegas crowds.

Auditions are set down for Sunday 18 January from 4pm. I'll update you if there are any changes; you can also join the Felafel Facebook group I've created for this show (whether you'd like to be in it, or just want to come and watch).

A Journalist's Right to Shoes

I've been giggling all morning about this story:

An Iraqi journalist has thrown his shoes at George W. Bush during the President's surprise visit to Baghdad.

The image of an impassioned newshound tossing his Size 10 Hush Puppies at the leader of the free world while yelling "It is the farewell kiss, you dog!" is surely one we'll see for weeks to come in humourous sketches and skits. Not to mention the fact that Dubya ducked as the leather missile came arcing towards him at speed. Oh, the hilarity.

So I'd like to be one of the first to open the floor for shoe-and-by-extension-foot-and-lower-leg jokes, puns, gags and witty bon-mots. Feel free to kick up your heels, get your foot in the door, and forget about toeing the party line.

Let's have some pun!

Upside-Down Cake

Normally my I bake quite good cakes. But tonight, something went wrong with my usually-reliable Green's Golden Butter Cake Mix:

I was taking this photo of my sad cake just as The Wah came through the door. He assuaged my disappointement with a jaunty "That's okay - it's an upside-down cake!".

He went off for a quick shower, then started rummaging about in the kitchen.

"What's the date today?" he yelled.

"The thirteenth!" I hollered back.

"Hmm, I'd better eat these eggs then."

Now imagine my life as a movie. There I am, tapping away on my computer in the BatCave (the study here at Chez Clumsy). It's at this point that I look directly up from my screen at the wall, looking exactly at the spot where a camera would be pointed directly at me for a close-up of the lightbulb moment that I have just had.

"The eggs!" I cried. "I forgot to put in the eggs!"

No WONDER the fracking cake had crumbled like Australia's top batting order on the recent tour of India.

Luckily the Wah, ever the gracious partner-in-life, was able to add these crucial ingredients in post-baking. Still, I think he may have been taking the piss:

Somehow I can't imagine Nigella Lawson making these kinds of elementary mistakes. Then again, Nigella probably hadn't pulled an all-nighter at the Impro Mafia Christmas party, and was suffering madcap-shenanigan-induced brain paralysis.

Now, anyone for some crumbs of butter cake and tea?

Who is Gunther?

How's this for a random phone call?

A lady in Melbourne just rang Chez Clumsy and asking to confirm my surname. For those of you who know it - it's rather distinctive and Polish.

She went on to ask (rather abruptly actually) if I was related to a man named Gunther.

Turns out her husband's father had gone to school in Austria with this bloke, and had subsequently met him again years later in Melbourne. Last they heard he was living in Queensland, so when they heard my name on the radio (obviously some sort of voice report sent down to 3AW), they decided to put on their deerstalkers, smoke an ounce of rough shag, and get detecting.

I apologised and said sorry, but the only people I know with my surname in South-East Queensland are my direct relatives.

However it's interesting that his name is Gunther. As I said, my surname is Polish - but Gunther is a Germanic name, and he supposedly went to school in Austria.

So it's left me wondering about this mysterious Gunther. What's he like? What's his story?

I'm imagining maybe an ex-Luftwaffe pilot, who fought for the Nazis despite knowing his extended family were all being trampled across the border. Perhaps this ate him up inside, and he defected, turning to desperate relatives in Danzig/Gdansk, who shielded him despite his past, and helped facilitate his escape from Europe.

Who you do think Gunther is?

Presto Pesto

Welcome to my new favourite easy quick delicious tasty meal.

I was flicking through a posh magazine in the doctor's waiting room a couple of months back, and found this among a number of recipes for quick, bread-based treats.

Since then I've been whipping it up every week or so without fail. It's filling, and reasonably nutritious. Best of all it's easy.

So for the first time, I'd like to present to you my (stolen) receipe for goat's cheese, pesto & mushroom melts!

Slice up some nice thick crusty bread - sour dough is genius, but a Vienna loaf or even a baguette is fine. Spread a thin layer of goat's cheese on the bread, and top that with a layer of pesto. Pop under the grill on a low to medium heat for about five minutes.

While the bread's getting nice and toasty and cheesy, chop up a bunch of mushrooms. It's up to you how many - go by the amount of bread you plan on having. Having discovered a newfound addiction to mushrooms (I hated them as a kid), and with The Wah a lifelong fan, I just go nuts with the button and cup 'shrooms. Heat some olive oil in a pan, and throw the mushies in, adding in some herbs for flavour (basil, sage, or a dried herb mix - whatever you fancy). Toss the mushrooms in the oil, and cook until tender.

By that time, the bread should be grilled to perfection - with the goat's cheese and pesto nicely melted. Remove from oven and arrange on a plate, before topping with the flavourful mushrooms.

If you're keen to add a bit of meat for extra taste, I recommend a few thin slices of prosciutto. Fry it up in the same pan as the mushrooms - it only needs a minute or so to get crispy - and put it on before the mushrooms. (I've used champagne ham in tonight's example as I didn't have prosciutto, and it works just as well, but prosciutto has that extra salty kick). Top with a bit of parmesan, and voila. Dinner is served.

As you can see in the above example, I've just had three slices of bread, with a slice of ham on each plus the mushies. It's really filling and tasty. If you've had a busy day, and can't be bothered with anything too complicated - I can highly recommend my "Presto Pesto".

I'm Richard

This evening I learned the terrible news that Richard Marsland has died, aged only 32.

Marsland was a wonderful radio talent, whom I got to know as the panel operator for Get This, the brilliant and criminally mistreated Triple M show of 2006/2007, that was co-hosted by Tony Martin and Ed Kavalee.

He was also an accomplished comedy writer, contributing to shows such as Rove and Newstopia.

I have listened to countless Get This podcasts since it left the airwaves just over one year ago. Radio's brilliance is that feeling of direct connection it gives you to the on-air personalities - you become involved in their world, and learn to love their quirks and characteristics.

On Get This, Richard was the good-natured whipping boy for a lot of Martin and Kavalee's jokes. Often, Ed would read out a story about a bizarre act or crime, then claim he had audio of it occuring. He'd put on a silly voice and declare "I'm Richard..." before going on to take responsibility for said act or crime, usually accompanied by a reference to Marsland's supposed love of The Veronicas or Lily Allen. But perhaps he is best known for his version of the disco hit "The Venga Bus", by The Venga Boys. You can see him performing the song here, at a party held after the final episode of Get This on November 23, 2007. Despite all of their riffing, the trio obviously respected each other enormously, and their sense of humour, sketches, routines and satire not only sizzled, but cut through and had traction to boot. Richard was the goofy heart of all of it, and I loved listening to him.

While Richard and Ed had moved on to other radio projects, and Tony Martin had retreated back into the world of films and writing, a part of me always hoped the boofheads at Triple M might realise what a terrible mistake they'd made, and one day bring back Get This. Sadly, Richard's death means it probably will never be. That realisation adds another dimension to an already staggering loss.

Victorian police say Richard's death is not suspicious. Please, if you're feeling down, or upset, or need someone to talk to, contact Lifeline on 131 114, Sane on 1800 18 7263, or log on to www.beyondblue.org.au or phone 1300 224 636.

Mistatses we mike wen vry tyred

I've never had a huge desire to work in breakfast radio fulltime, even though it's considered the most "prestigious" timeslot by many. These 4am starts are a killer, particularly when you're a night owl like me.

Co-ordinating a publicity and fundraising campaign for the Brisbane Arts Theatre, and workshopping some really exciting new concepts for Impro Mafia are also taking up a fair amount of my time. But more on those later.

Point is, I'm tired. I've got bags under my eyes that wouldn't get on a plane as hand luggage. I'm shuffling like one of George A. Romero's finest. I'm deep-throating Pepsi Max like... well, I'll let you invent your own comedy comparison here. I'm even too tired for innuendo.

Today, being Friday, is the culmination of the week, and an exponential rise in the tiredness. I swear I could have fallen asleep reading the news this morning (that's not a reflection of the content). Tiredness leads to mistakes, and I fluffed a few times each bulletin this morning, including the delightful "transpurting" instead of "transporting". Weird.

What adventures have you had while tired? Any memorable achievements or mistakes?

Replacements

Is it just me, or is Triple M's search for a new female breakfast presenter just a tad creepy?

The rock station's Brisbane breakfast show "The Cage" has been left chick-free with the departure of Sami Lukis for Sydney. So they're holding a "10 Hosts in 10 Days" audition process, whacking on a different female talent every day - and getting listeners to decide who they want to join Skip, Marto and Sully (can anyone just use their normal name in FM radio?) in 2009.

This isn't the first time Triple M has done this. They once held a competition called "Brisbane's Funniest Female", during which they put different chicks on drive shifts, and gave the winner one Sunday night show. I was working in news at the time, and was bitter I couldn't get a go at it. Damnit, I'm funny. Anyway, the chick who won got her Sunday night show, but then one of the others got a full-time gig as breakfast co-host. So it seemed to me (in all my experience) that they'd already decided, but were getting all these chicks in (I believe for free) to get a bit of publicity.

And you know what? I've never heard of any radio station auditioning blokes this way.

I wonder if it could happen. Would blokes be happy to line-up for what's essentially a cattle call, or a Miss Universe style competition? I have a funny feeling blokes would say "Mate, take it or leave it. I'm not wasting my time."

But then again, radio remains a male-dominated industry. It's just harder for women to get in. If you read the biographies of the women they've got on - they're all amazing. Their combined media experience is daunting - rivalling, if not bettering, the experience of the existing male jocks. Each one of them is supremely qualified to be an interesting on-air personality. Yet - they're pitted against each other, forced to compete.

I just loathe the message this sends out to listeners. "Our three blokes can stay, fat and sassy as they are, assured of their position as King of the Heap. The women must fight - preferably in bikinis and jelly - for the right to take a solitary position beside us. You, as the great unwashed, may flap your flabby mouth and give your 'expert' opinion. Now, pass us another fatted calf."

But of course, the great question is - would I, if asked to "audition" in this manner - do it?

The sad truth is, I probably would. But I would only do it once. I hope would have the strength to know my own skill, and subsequent approaches would have to be exclusive.

Of course, these are pipe dreams and rolled-up-dollar-bill fantasies. For now, I'll just stay bitter.