But This Worries Me

After the triumph of the SLEEVES, Kate Middleton - sorry, the Duchess of Cambridge - changed into this dress for the royal wedding reception at Buckingham Palace.

I guess it could be explained by the angle of the photo, and Kate - sorry, Her Royal Highness - was probably still wearing a tight bodice - but geez. Her waist seems awfully tiny, at least relative to her head. She's reasonably tall too - about my height. Just existing in about 20 kilograms less space.

I know, I know. It's a stupid brain pattern to get into.

All I know is when you look at a photo, and the fact that Camilla is in it worries you the least, something is amiss.

Also, I was a bit disappointed this secondary gown was strapless. At least Kate - sorry, Supreme Leader of the Universe - teamed it with a Fuzzy Bolero. Which, incidentally, is a fantastic name for a character in a blacksploitation film, if anybody happens to be making one.

F*** YEAH SLEEVES

Wave goodbye to bare shoulders and arms!

Up Her Sleeve

So the Royal Wedding is bearing down on humble residents of Planet Earth with more relentless certainty than either death or taxes.

My patriotic British grandmother - known affectionately as "Queen Pat" in her hometown of Port Vila - arrives in town tomorrow, and has informed my parents (by means of some sort of decree, read out by a pageboy), that she will require full access to the HD widescreen television for the day. Properly chilled Moet & Chandon should also be within easy reach.

For me? Well, it's a nice thing for sure, and I wish Wills & Kate all the best, but I've been avoiding the majority of media about it because I don't want to turn into a hater.

I've realised there is only ONE thing that I want out of the Royal Wedding. ONE thing.

Sleeves.

That's right, sleeves. On Kate Middleton's wedding gown.

That's all I want. I'll tell you why.

Good Friday

If you are easily offended by a) making fun of Jesus and/or b) terrible manufactured internet meme pop music - you may want to take this as a warning.

Rest assured, if there is such a construct as hell, I was already heading there. This just upgrades the size of my bungalow on the Lake of Fire.

(Lyrics below if you're interested - might be handy for the bit where I f***ed up)

Clumsy Playlist #1

The trouble with harebrained schemes is that they occur to me. Often. And generally they prove to be exactly what they say on the packaging.

The response to my call for music suggestions was brilliant. Thank you all so much. The only problem is, even taking out the Anonymous comments, and those containing multiple songs - I'm facing over $120 in iTunes fees.

I'm sure to the hardcore music fans $120 is but a drop in the ocean. Unfortunately the pre-Easter bill oscillation has brought on something of a cashflow El Nino, so I'm going to have to restructure the rules a teensy bit.

I know, I know. I wrote something on the internet that turned out to be an untruth. I'm disappointed in myself as well. But we battle on.

I'm going to YouTube the songs you've suggested, and then decide whether they're up my musical alley or not. I also had a suggestion from the always charming Beeso that I write my reviews in 140 characters or less, Twitter-style. Considering the number of tunes to get through, that sounds like it might be a wise idea for me, and less of a grinding pain in the ass for you, dear readers.

So let's get started.

Are You Capable?

Capril is a sensational initiative.

This is me in a cape, after Not So Pleasance, my directed ImproMafia long-form at the Brisbane Arts Theatre last night. A massive thank you to the cast for going with me on quite an ambitious idea, and the audience for supporting it. We had a barrel of fun and learned many lessons - but you know what? Impro isn't worth anything unless you're taking risks and challenging yourself, so HOO-AH! for us, I say.

I'd like to write more about Capril and some personal reflections - particularly in the light of doing a show like Not So Pleasance, which was all about madness and wonder - but we'll see how we go. After all, you come to Girl Clumsy for poor attempts at comedy and a glowing sense of schadenfreude, and I'd hate to ruin the atmos.

Build the Clumsy Playlist

I bought my second Apple product recently - an 8GB iPod Nano. My old mp3 player was just starting to conk out everytime I moved suddenly, and having a MacBook now, I just decided I may as well pip for an iPod.

I was just going to get a Shuffle, but you know what convinced me to go for the Nano?

The inbuilt pedometer function.

Yep, that's right, I'm that easily upsold.

Still, I've been enjoying the pedometer function - realising just how sedentary my job can be, and trying to be a bit more active and get closer to that 10,000 steps per day target I've heard so much about.

Slightly more problematic is the actual MUSIC content of the iPod.

The move to an Apple MacBook computer meant losing all my music - not that it was a particularly huge collection, but still, it was something. The iPod has forced me into the rather scary world of iTunes, but all I've managed is to register for a few podcasts.

My friend Dan very kindly sent me Lady Gaga's The Fame Monster album as a gift, which has been awesome. Have I mentioned before how much I love Lady Gaga? She's fabulous, and I tell you, I get more steps on the pedometer when I'm pounding along listening to a bit of "Ga-ga-ooh-la-la/want your bad romance".

Remember kids, when you get out of the egg,
don't forget to slip, slop, slap.

Dan also sent me a bunch of free songs from the internet, which mostly consisted of Jonathan Coulton numbers and other whimsical parody songs. Apart from that, I've got NO music.

So here's a challenge for you - help me build a music collection.

But... there's a catch (It's GirlClumsy, there's always a catch).

See, I found out that these days, people are all ethical and shit. People actually BUY their music now. I mean, what is this, a new Dark Ages?

Now I simply don't have to sort of moola it would require to buy all of your favourites - or indeed, my own.

So you get ONE song.

Leave a comment, telling me ONE song that I should download - and why. Any genre, any style, any artist, any era. It can be a favourite song of yours, or simply a song you think I would like. Either way, you have to make a call.

I will then buy - yes, BUY - all the songs I get from registered commenters, and write up what I think of each song. I'm afraid I can't accept suggestions from "Anonymous" commenters, because it could be one person making lots of recommendations.

So.

ONE SONG.

What will it be?

Arthouse Dirty Talk

Those of you familiar with nightclubs and commercial music programs may have had cause to hear a charming little ditty called Dirty Talk, by American lass Wynter Gordon. It's not a brand new song; which means it must have taken its time to penetrate the Gaga/Britney/Beyonce pop fortress that is my brain.

This sort of disposable dance music would be generally forgettable, were it not for the detailed sexual imagery of Dirty Talk's lyrics. I'm sure the sexually liberated amongst you would argue that it simply presents a fairly vanilla, even generic set of sensual fantasies as something more risque, but to prudes like me? SHOCK AND GASP.

However, after listening to the song a number of times on repeat, it dawned on me that perhaps Wynter Gordon and her songwriters have a deeper, more powerful message regarding the female quest for internal and external gratification to communicate to their audience, gyrating in front of the TV at home in a genuine Mary-Kate and Ashley tweenie g-string. A message, perhaps, that would be more effective if presented as an undergraduate film student's meditative think piece.

All of which is a lot of garbled set up for what is ostensibly the most ridiculous piece of video to be committed to YouTube today.

Enjoy.

A Good Wrap

I often try to prepare my lunch the night before a work day. Just as often I squirm out of it, saying I'll do it in the morning, I'm too tired, it's a hassle, there's no delicious black olives, etc etc.

But when I actually bother, I find myself becoming giddy with a tiny degree of excitement.

It starts with the tortilla wraps, which I subbed in for bread some years ago and never looked back. Then some light honey mustard dressing, a few slices of honey leg ham, tasty cheese, green capsicum, mixed salad leaves, and delicious, delicious black olives.

I think it's healthy. I hope it's healthy. Because, the thing is, it's virtually the only lunch I make.

And even though I know how it will taste, I still get excited by the prospect. By the time I'm wrapping them up in clingfilm, I'm almost disappointed that it will be a sleep and a morning's labour before I can get stuck into those bad boys.

It's not much, but it's mine. ALL MINE.

And I wonder - is it wrong to have some foods that are a comforting, pleasurable routine? An island of familiarity in what can so often be a day of confusion?

Double Trouble

Man of mystery and chicken lover (wait, that doesn't sound right), Disco Stu and I road test KFC's infamous "Double" burger. The Wah is there to capture it all on high definition digital video.

KFC has no reason to be proud of itself by offering The Double - except of course in the only way it counts - marketing. It truly is a gleeful triumph of "F*** You, Health Nazis". Bravo, Colonel Sanders, bravo.

In the future, aliens will discover the fetid remnants of The Double, and begin to piece together the downfall of human civilisation. Unfortunately they will cook one up as an experiment, and be doomed to repeat our mistakes. Take that, aliens.