tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77953902024-03-14T15:06:51.642+10:00The Bruising Adventures of Girl ClumsyJournalist. Writer. Improviser. Traveller. KlutzGirl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.comBlogger952125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-44626946577086002352015-09-02T23:23:00.002+10:002015-09-02T23:23:27.459+10:00What happened?I'm still around, just not here. One day I hope to change that; start doing some creative writing again.<br />
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Until then, I've got a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nataliesthrone" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> where you can enjoy various updates, particularly <i>Game of Thrones-</i>related (those recaps owe it all to this blog; poor thing, how I have neglected you).<br />
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If you like <i>Game of Thrones</i> and/or my recaps, my buddy Stu and I started a Raven On companion podcast for Season Five. You can go back and <a href="https://soundcloud.com/girlclumsy" target="_blank">listen to the episodes online</a>. It's just two GoT nerds shooting the breeze.<br />
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I still jibber-jabber on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/girlclumsy" target="_blank">Twitter</a>.<br />
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I write for <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/" target="_blank">Brisbane Times</a>.<br />
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I'm doing a show called <i><a href="http://brisbanepowerhouse.org/events/2015/09/30/speed/" target="_blank">Speed: The Movie, The Play</a></i> at the Brisbane Powerhouse from September 30 to October 17. It's the 1994 action thriller <i>Speed</i>, staged on an actual bus, with designer low-fi special effects. It's always hard for me to give myself credit for anything good, but damn this show is good. It's fun, silly, clever and I'm so proud of it. Come and see it.<br />
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And I'm trying to work out how I can be a better writer, blogger, creative type, friend and adult in general. All suggestions warmly accepted.Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-53397636524627888312014-06-08T10:46:00.001+10:002014-06-08T10:46:05.528+10:00Signs of China<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f4tQaH2nHLw/U5OyNs713TI/AAAAAAAADc4/U9dnSIZVrno/s640/blogger-image--1223675373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hQj_v6nV0DY/U5OyKywr7gI/AAAAAAAADcw/bRSyUqO85e4/s640/blogger-image--1914248379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-UBCodY2rOj0/U5OySlp0nFI/AAAAAAAADdQ/uNNQ9T8Udok/s640/blogger-image--174068307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-UBCodY2rOj0/U5OySlp0nFI/AAAAAAAADdQ/uNNQ9T8Udok/s640/blogger-image--174068307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--cY3qrEcrCw/U5OyRBxvesI/AAAAAAAADdI/smtN-2VJFqg/s640/blogger-image--902382452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--cY3qrEcrCw/U5OyRBxvesI/AAAAAAAADdI/smtN-2VJFqg/s640/blogger-image--902382452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8fxXLQvX-Mg/U5OyJIgGfRI/AAAAAAAADco/7yj54_MGJeE/s640/blogger-image--639680947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8fxXLQvX-Mg/U5OyJIgGfRI/AAAAAAAADco/7yj54_MGJeE/s640/blogger-image--639680947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-yJeem9y67Qg/U5OyBv0AL7I/AAAAAAAADcQ/I6ZUy_jeOkE/s640/blogger-image-1689265721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-yJeem9y67Qg/U5OyBv0AL7I/AAAAAAAADcQ/I6ZUy_jeOkE/s640/blogger-image-1689265721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-is0frq4yb90/U5OyG0yREhI/AAAAAAAADcg/KjBuzCQlTxE/s640/blogger-image-628617306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-is0frq4yb90/U5OyG0yREhI/AAAAAAAADcg/KjBuzCQlTxE/s640/blogger-image-628617306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bjw60Trp-_k/U5OyEEKTc6I/AAAAAAAADcY/jIp5Gwx_oxA/s640/blogger-image-930574668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Beijing: A City of Strangeness and Wonder That Is Wonderfully Photogenic</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bjw60Trp-_k/U5OyEEKTc6I/AAAAAAAADcY/jIp5Gwx_oxA/s640/blogger-image-930574668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-u4kRh3rWryU/U5Ox-4R7C6I/AAAAAAAADcI/usk4NUZSOnk/s640/blogger-image--1970147685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-u4kRh3rWryU/U5Ox-4R7C6I/AAAAAAAADcI/usk4NUZSOnk/s640/blogger-image--1970147685.jpg"></a></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bjw60Trp-_k/U5OyEEKTc6I/AAAAAAAADcY/jIp5Gwx_oxA/s640/blogger-image-930574668.jpg"></div><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-is0frq4yb90/U5OyG0yREhI/AAAAAAAADcg/KjBuzCQlTxE/s640/blogger-image-628617306.jpg"></div><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-yJeem9y67Qg/U5OyBv0AL7I/AAAAAAAADcQ/I6ZUy_jeOkE/s640/blogger-image-1689265721.jpg"></div><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8fxXLQvX-Mg/U5OyJIgGfRI/AAAAAAAADco/7yj54_MGJeE/s640/blogger-image--639680947.jpg"></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--cY3qrEcrCw/U5OyRBxvesI/AAAAAAAADdI/smtN-2VJFqg/s640/blogger-image--902382452.jpg"></div><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-UBCodY2rOj0/U5OySlp0nFI/AAAAAAAADdQ/uNNQ9T8Udok/s640/blogger-image--174068307.jpg"></div><br></div><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hQj_v6nV0DY/U5OyKywr7gI/AAAAAAAADcw/bRSyUqO85e4/s640/blogger-image--1914248379.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-WOsL9Eg6wRc/U5OyPIVNhYI/AAAAAAAADdA/0cJhS8ZetPg/s640/blogger-image--2064456365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-WOsL9Eg6wRc/U5OyPIVNhYI/AAAAAAAADdA/0cJhS8ZetPg/s640/blogger-image--2064456365.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-56362842120663770302014-03-30T21:16:00.001+10:002014-03-31T00:50:10.539+10:00The Greatest Prank to Go UnnoticedI've just wrapped up ten days in the Big Apple, New York City. <div><br></div><div>Our travel party included: my grandmother, Queen Pat, who had never been and decided that at 89, she was finally ready; my friend Amy, with whom I would perform in a NY Improv Festival; and our friend Daren, aka Dazzler, who had wanted to go in April but then tweaked his schedule when he heard we were all going, and wouldn't it be more fun to party on as a big group?</div><div><br></div><div>Thing about Dazzler though, is that he wanted to keep his American jaunt secret, so he could pop up in the States and surprise all his friends on Facebook.</div><div><br></div><div>Whaddya gonna do? Spoil his big thing? So Amy and I kept radio silence.</div><div><br></div><div>Daren turned up in Los Angeles and posted, but didn't mention he was joining us in New York.</div><div><br></div><div>So we concocted an awesome photo bombing plan, that turned the first few days of our trip into a game of 'Where's Dazzler?'</div><div><br></div><div>For reference, here is Dazzler in NY:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-A7FEdVAbjtI/Uzf88JYcGBI/AAAAAAAADbM/05N2oV1q4Ug/s640/blogger-image-293530142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-A7FEdVAbjtI/Uzf88JYcGBI/AAAAAAAADbM/05N2oV1q4Ug/s640/blogger-image-293530142.jpg"></a></div><br></div>And here are the shots Amy and I took and posted on Facebook, just waiting for somebody to ping to the ruse.</div><div><br></div><div>Times Square:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ar0mPrUNcdI/Uzf89rXUH5I/AAAAAAAADbU/3JPvHiwz8ao/s640/blogger-image-2077576589.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Ar0mPrUNcdI/Uzf89rXUH5I/AAAAAAAADbU/3JPvHiwz8ao/s640/blogger-image-2077576589.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Empire State Building:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1A_xVcMuNjs/Uzf82t7_NlI/AAAAAAAADas/-jaw8-zlWpI/s640/blogger-image-1531653868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1A_xVcMuNjs/Uzf82t7_NlI/AAAAAAAADas/-jaw8-zlWpI/s640/blogger-image-1531653868.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Statue of Liberty:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4yZDpBSOm44/Uzf9BNCd0zI/AAAAAAAADbs/vrm1YKXyHvY/s640/blogger-image--23235443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4yZDpBSOm44/Uzf9BNCd0zI/AAAAAAAADbs/vrm1YKXyHvY/s640/blogger-image--23235443.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In a Broadway theatre:</span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-LEGxatrWfAI/Uzf84F8cS3I/AAAAAAAADa0/8CSGZgPtjp0/s640/blogger-image-412086214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-LEGxatrWfAI/Uzf84F8cS3I/AAAAAAAADa0/8CSGZgPtjp0/s640/blogger-image-412086214.jpg"></a></div><br></div>And in front of the PIT theatre, home of the Improv festival:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-SZjVWs0czAk/Uzf87ETC_VI/AAAAAAAADbE/p1NwpQ84XKI/s640/blogger-image-1678154503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-SZjVWs0czAk/Uzf87ETC_VI/AAAAAAAADbE/p1NwpQ84XKI/s640/blogger-image-1678154503.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But nobody pinged! People on Facebook kept liking our pictures, but nobody seem to work out that the bloke in the striped beanie seemed to show up a lot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Eventually we posted a video where Daren derides the great art of Impro (jokingly of course - well, I think), and a few people liked it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">POSTSCRIPT</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Once Amy left us in New York, Daren and I made a silly 'We miss you' picture.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HMZK74t4Q6k/Uzf8-qGerpI/AAAAAAAADbc/0QmMS_Y9_1g/s640/blogger-image--991249114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HMZK74t4Q6k/Uzf8-qGerpI/AAAAAAAADbc/0QmMS_Y9_1g/s640/blogger-image--991249114.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I've just met up with Amy in Edinburgh, where she now lives. So we decided to replicate:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dJqMclgfViU/Uzf8_-skQ8I/AAAAAAAADbk/9ke6qxm-Tt0/s640/blogger-image-267729440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dJqMclgfViU/Uzf8_-skQ8I/AAAAAAAADbk/9ke6qxm-Tt0/s640/blogger-image-267729440.jpg"></a></div><br></div>After posting that on Facebook this morning, I received a brilliant response from my friend Scott:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K1zxBo567Bc/Uzf85kxJn8I/AAAAAAAADa8/vBDEIMJwu_g/s640/blogger-image--1000952995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K1zxBo567Bc/Uzf85kxJn8I/AAAAAAAADa8/vBDEIMJwu_g/s640/blogger-image--1000952995.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hats off to you sir, some fine work. I hope this means our awesome prank did tickle people's fancies. </div><br></div>Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com3Edinburgh Edinburgh55.979045 -3.185819tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-28080027516745429022013-12-29T11:31:00.001+10:002013-12-29T15:01:02.315+10:00In TentsI've been telling folks here at Woodford that the last time I put up a tent was ten years ago, but it's actually longer.<div><br></div><div>Some focused reflection on years gone by has confirmed that the last time I was responsible for erecting a nylon horror from beyond the stars was Year 10 camp, and I was 14. That's more than half my life ago.</div><div><br></div><div>I borrowed this tent from a work colleague late on Friday night, before heading up to the Folk Festival on Saturday morning. It took some hours for organisers to figure out my assigned camping spot, so it was only around 5pm that I was able to unload the mighty tent and realise... "I have absolutely no idea how to do this."</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WthqJ2q5uv8/Ur97SZ8C0yI/AAAAAAAADaE/mgZkI7aXdRs/s640/blogger-image-142700437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WthqJ2q5uv8/Ur97SZ8C0yI/AAAAAAAADaE/mgZkI7aXdRs/s640/blogger-image-142700437.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But never fear! I would push on. It would be like brain training, those exercises in logic and problem solving that you do to improve your grey matter.</span></div><div><br></div><div>The tent came with no instructions, but rather two long interconnected poles, and one short one, plus twelve tent pegs. I did not have a "hammer" or anything useful like that, so I started by laying out the tent and driving the pegs into the semi-hard ground with the palms of my hands. </div><div><br></div><div>When I stayed in a Mongolian ger, it had a chimney in the middle, so I first tried to emulate that by shoving the short pole smack bang in the middle of the tent.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5KR5ho6FhUk/Ur97OmBtndI/AAAAAAAADZ0/E43MMlZ-_HI/s640/blogger-image--1195963171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5KR5ho6FhUk/Ur97OmBtndI/AAAAAAAADZ0/E43MMlZ-_HI/s640/blogger-image--1195963171.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I then realised there was no way to secure such an arrangement, and besides, it was not conducive to setting up the air mattress I had brought along.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So I looked at the blue tent next to me, which had a curved pole across its entryway, forming a sort of patio in front of the dome. All right, I thought, I'll give that a go.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-k0okUwvqxXY/Ur97UVoPT5I/AAAAAAAADaM/r-R2VYaGGvk/s640/blogger-image--1834220536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-k0okUwvqxXY/Ur97UVoPT5I/AAAAAAAADaM/r-R2VYaGGvk/s640/blogger-image--1834220536.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Not quite the same. My rapidly overheating brain eventually pinged that the two long interconnected poles needed to run corner to corner, crossing at the top of the tent. I took a punt and ran them under the tent, remembering that the last tent I erected had poles on the inside.</div><div><br></div><div>I clipped the clips to the outside of the material, then grabbed the silver cover sheet to go over the top. It didn't seem to fit properly. Then I remembered - the shorter pole! It must have to attach to the cover somehow. </div><div><br></div><div>I tried a range of positions, but none seemed right.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Wu1gqk6nPwg/Ur97QnTkbzI/AAAAAAAADZ8/ldDRTqB-GqA/s640/blogger-image--2117884788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Wu1gqk6nPwg/Ur97QnTkbzI/AAAAAAAADZ8/ldDRTqB-GqA/s640/blogger-image--2117884788.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Eventually I gave up on ever finding a purpose for the shorter rod. I enlisted the help of Maeve, a kindly young volunteer at the camping HQ, who hadn't seen a tent like mine before either. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We redraped the cover as best we could, then Maeve, bless her, grabbed a hammer and thrust in the remaining tent pegs to hold it down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RlFZmnghMrA/Ur97MuoawJI/AAAAAAAADZs/9lPF00K6Vzg/s640/blogger-image-1961832049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-RlFZmnghMrA/Ur97MuoawJI/AAAAAAAADZs/9lPF00K6Vzg/s640/blogger-image-1961832049.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It wasn't quite right, but still, I had to get my car out of the way and get to my first "Game On" panel show.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I've since discovered (thanks to mercy cries on Twitter) that these types of tents are supposed to have the poles on the outside of the tent, and underneath the cover. Similarly if it rains and I don't have that air gap between the two, the tent will leak.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So I need to reconfigure my tent. Problem is, it's already over 30 degrees and climbing. Frankly the tent can stuff it.</div></div></div>Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com4Woodford Woodford-26.9662 152.766859tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-5961542438130488392013-12-27T16:36:00.001+10:002013-12-27T16:49:55.615+10:00Treasure hunt!<div>
Greetings, one and all.</div>
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I hope you all had a very merry Christmas and a relaxed and fun-filled Boxing Day.</div>
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I am enjoying my first official holidays over the Christmas/New Year period in some years. I had hoped to perhaps write something every day, but that ambition was promptly sunk by the prospect of doing not terribly much at all. </div>
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One thing I did manage to pull off, however, was a super fun Christmas treasure hunt for The Wah. </div>
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I had bought him a very shiny new present, but I felt it was something that required working for. Given that we had a quiet Christmas at home this year (our respective families being out of town), I thought it might help add some extra zest to the morning.</div>
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I worked out all the locations for clues a few days beforehand, wrote them up in dodgy rhyme, then printed out and sealed them on Christmas Eve.</div>
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The Wah is a very light sleeper, so it was some kind of Christmas miracle that I was able to get up and out of the house at 6 o'clock in the morning without him catching me in the act. I walked around our local park, planted the clues and buried the present (something I was a bit uncertain how to do until I surreptitiously managed to borrow a gardening trowel from our friend Dan). There was the odd jogger and dog-walker out, but no one paid much attention.</div>
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As I wandered back home, I did feel a small amount of fear at the fact I'd buried a rather expensive bit of kit in a public place. Had someone found any one of the clues, and had half a brain, they probably would've been able to uncover it. That would've been a fun insurance claim to make.</div>
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Thankfully they were all still there when The Wah opened his card with the first clue and we set off on a brisk jaunt to find the treasure.</div>
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I suppose treasure hunts are usually considered as activities for children and/or pirates, but The Wah seemed to enjoy it. I would heartily recommend it for anyone wanting to give a fun experience along with a present - or hell, just do it for fun one day. It's fun for the recepient, but for the mastermind it's entertaining as well, as you watch the person try to figure out riddles and give as many - or as few - hints as you want!</div>
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Tomorrow I'm heading up to the Woodford Folk Festival, where I shall be a panellist on the comedy quiz show "Game On" for four nights (Saturday 28, Sunday 29, Monday 30, Tuesday 31). It's on at 7.30pm in the GreenHouse each night, if you're planning to be at the event at all during those times. </div>
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I'm hoping to do more blogging while at Woodford to see in the New Year with a renewed vigour for this poor, neglected site.</div>
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com0Spring Hill Spring Hill-27.45969 153.020853tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-80258579774688233652013-11-18T23:55:00.000+10:002013-11-18T23:58:15.480+10:00Uninspired & Terrified<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i>It's a sad day to realise that not only do you feel like you have nothing to say, but that you feel something akin to fear in saying anything at all.</i></b><br />
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Here it comes - the obligatory "Gee, I don't blog much anymore, do I?" post.<br />
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I've been avoiding it all year, truth be told. I read a "Tips for How to Blog Properly" type of list once that said you should never write such a post because it will frustrate your readers. Instead, you should just post when you are inspired.<br />
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But it's been so long since I was inspired, hasn't it? My last few posts have been relatively run of the mill. I couldn't even summon the energy to write in more detail about my beloved <i>He Died With a Felafel in His Hand</i> adventure at the Powerhouse. You'd think I could've mustered up some juicy titbits about staging a production, or lyrical prose about the transience of art and shared human experiences in the performance realm.<br />
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But no. I was too busy living the production, being responsible for as much detail as possible, and trying to keep my own head above water during a stressful time that it all went in a blur and now almost feels like a dream just out of reach. Like a massage with a feather, leaving just a faint sensation of having been drawn across your skin.<br />
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I write all day, (almost) every day for work now, you see. I enjoy my job as an arts writer, but it uses a lot of the creative energy that I used to dollop out on blogging. I have to find a way into arts stories, write them in an interesting and hopefully dynamic way. I spend a lot of time on trying to make what I write something people will want to read. It's not a task that I can ever imagine finishing to my complete satisfaction. There will always be more to try, more to do.<br />
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When something happens and I get the faint spark of an idea for a blog post, it is hard to capture that and keep it sacred, keep it away from the gaping maw of the internet, whose job it is to write, rewrite, attack, counter-attack and reposte on every conceivable topic all before I've had my lunch on any given day.<br />
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There's so much on the internet, you see. So much sturm und drang, so much opinion, so many articles about what does and does not constitute equality/sexism/douchebaggery/right/wrong, so much goddamned commentary about rape that it makes me want to scream.<br />
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I'm not an expert on anything, so why should I throw my voice into the beast? What good does it do? What the hell do I know? At a time in my life where I'm slowly growing more confident in my own skills to achieve certain things, I have simultaneously never felt dumber. Apart from a few dodgy puns, I'm at a loss to explain what kind of contribution I can make.<br />
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Putting out any kind of "statement" now seems risky. Given the aforementioned state of "feeling dumb", I constantly feel that I am "wrong", that what I think is abhorrent to others and a stigma on me. All of it - their opinions, my opinions, are tiring.<br />
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The other night I tweeted about tattoos...<br />
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Girls in the valley - you have such lovely legs, why ruin them with tattoos?<br />
— Natalie Bochenski (@girlclumsy) <a href="https://twitter.com/girlclumsy/statuses/401693351272923136">November 16, 2013</a></blockquote>
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...which prompted a few narky responses about my use of the word 'ruin'. I was called out for being judgemental and/or making women feel bad about their bodies.<br />
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I got a bit flustered by that, and metaphorically threw my hands up. "There's just no point saying anything," I thought. <br />
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I felt angered because I'm really quite the feminist, and actually believe in freedom of choice. I honestly am happy for people to tattoo the words to Nine Inch Nails' Closer on their forehead if it's what they want.<br />
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But you know what? I WAS judging. Because I personally hate tattoos. I loathe them, on men and women. My brain's particular pleasure centres find them displeasing. I do actually think that when you're a young woman with slim toned legs that I personally would strangle a newborn kitten for, that tattoos flung carelessly about your thighs do "ruin" them.<br />
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(Here I feel compelled to give a disclaimer: I think I'm personally ruining my body through all number of other factors - poor diet, not enough exercise, sun exposure, etc. So I don't feel "superior", I just feel "judgy").<br />
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I do accept reasons that people get tattoos done - remembering or honouring family members or friends, for the beauty they find in them, and most importantly of all, because they fricking well just want some fricking tattoos, and despite the best efforts of the Queensland government, we don't yet live in a total police state.<br />
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Now, I hear you wondering, and I myself am pondering, what the frick does it matter if I hate tattoos or not? Maybe I should just shut the hell up and let people get on with their lives. Which is absolutely true.<br />
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But it proved to me that I have just gone quiet on so many things. Even just writing the above about disliking tattoos has me fearful of copping an earful.<br />
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I've just shut up because I'm honestly too tired to argue, and because I'm tired of being "wrong" all the time. And if I've just shut up about something so trivial (ie tattoos), what else have I shut up about?<br />
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Pretty much everything.<br />
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I've been listening to the song <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CevxZvSJLk8" target="_blank"><i>Roar</i> by Katy Perry</a> a lot recently. I know it's just gummy candy pop with a cute video clip, but a few of its lyrics seem to issue a warning that's hit me right in the girly brain meats.<br />
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<b><i>"I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything."</i></b></blockquote>
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I would like to stand for something. For several things, even. More importantly, I would like to be able to articulate my position without fear of causing offence and being "wrong".<br />
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Hopefully my next post will be about what those things are.*<br />
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*<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Beyond "Say no to tattoos", obviously.</span></i><br />
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-452243506277002252013-10-23T00:14:00.000+10:002013-10-23T22:00:47.011+10:00Five Early 90s Female Pop Songs You Didn't Realise You Needed to Hear Again....or indeed for the first time, for the young (re: uneducated) people out there.<br />
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The 1990s was a golden era for solo female pop. The Spice Girls, Girls Aloud and Destiny's Child heralded a new era of pop girl bands from the mid-to-late 90s, before the rise of Britney and Christina once again secured pop music for the solo femmes.</div>
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Of course, Madonna was doing her thing throughout all of this, but Madonna's just so far ahead of the pack she should comprise every Top X List of Everything Ever.<br />
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Here are five tracks that demonstrate what a young girl might be exposed to musically as her teenage years approached.</div>
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<b>5. <i>One of Us</i> by Joan Osborne</b></div>
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OK, so its 1995 release date technically puts it out of the early 90s. But in tone, timbre and intent, it belongs in this list. Most people would probably now know this song as the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vD-85ABVkkY" target="_blank">loving duet Dr Evil and Mini-Me sing in Austin Powers 2</a>, or as the theme for the TV show <i>Joan of Arcadia</i>.</div>
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But before that it was a massive hit. It was everywhere, you couldn't escape it. That riff, that yearning voice, that nostril ring she wears in the video clip - it all made Joan Osborne a star. For about five minutes.</div>
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Songwriter Eric Bazilian supposedly dashed off the song quickly to impress hit future wife, and offered it to Joan Osborne while working on her album. Her raw vocals turned the "wacky" song about faith and Jesus and the saints and all the prophets into an endearing search for meaning. Despite his hopes, Eric didn't win a Grammy, but he's no doubt made a Bazilian dollars in royalties.</div>
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<b>4. <i>Boy in the Moon</i> by Margaret Urlich</b></div>
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You've probably sung along to Margaret Urlich dozens of times and never realised it. The New Zealand-born singer provided the backing vocals in Darryl Braithwaite's 1990 mega hit The Horses. Since then, countless karaoke nights have included some tomfool maxing out the reverb with a "Beeeeeee, little darling!" Sometimes it's not even me.</div>
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But Urlich chose not to appear in Dazzer's film clip for The Horses, because she was trying to establish herself as a soloist. 1992's The Boy in the Moon was possibly her biggest hit, a cheerful love ballad supported by an artsy video clip that really highlights the importance of the choker to early 90s fashion. My god, the chokers. They were like an albatross around your neck. </div>
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<b>3. <i>Cry</i> by Lisa Edwards</b></div>
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What did I just tell you about chokers?</div>
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I remember getting the CD single of this song from my aunt. I think she'd won it or something and didn't want it. I had that CD for years, just sitting in a rack under Madonna's Erotica and Michael Jackson's Dangerous. I can't remember if I even played it much, just that I felt it boosted my meagre collection.</div>
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But who was Lisa Edwards? John Farnham's backing singer, that's who. An experienced session and back-up singer, she somehow managed to score a Top 5 hit with this splendidly dramatic ode to heartbreak, before going back on the road with Whispering Jack about eleventy billion times. </div>
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Researching this post has led me to uncover the fact that this song was actually a cover. English duo Godley and Creme wrote <i>Cry</i> in 1985, and the video shows how New Wave-y it originally was. It also starts out with a pudgy dude crying awkwardly, so I think Edwards deserves points for her theatrical glam black-and-white clip. The tradition of pop stars rolling around on beds was not a new one, but 90s femmes really took it to a new level.</div>
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<b>2. <i>Love...Thy Will Be Done</i> by Martika</b></div>
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What did I just tell you about rolling around on beds?</div>
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This is the tune that inspired this post. It just randomly popped into my head a few days ago, and I was struck by a deep frission of nostalgic energy. I loved this song in 1991. It was soft, melodic, philosophical and it didn't have a chorus. It was more hymn than song and it always took my breath away </div>
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And it was co-written by Prince! The small, purple-wearing musical genius who's pretty much written everything for everyone. Once you know this fact, you can really hear his guiding hand over the orchestration - the random backing cries ("Satisfied!") and the tumbling, cascading way lyrics would run over each other ("Even when there's no
peace outside my window there's peace inside and that's why I can
not longer run"). It's magic.</div>
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Despite this song doing well in the US and hitting number 1 for ages in Australia, it didn't really help Martika in the long run. After starting so promisingly with the brilliant <i>Toy Soliders</i> back in 1988, dropped out of the limelight after the <i>Martika's Kitchen</i> album was released. Naming an album after a room in your house was probably the reason. Even if I was a brilliant singer, I can't imagine anyone forking out the folding stuff for a copy of <i>Natalie's Bathroom</i>.</div>
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<b>1. <i>Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover</i> by Sophie B. Hawkins.</b></div>
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I remember dancing so hard to this song at Tanya Packer's 12th birthday party. That was the party we managed to get a bra off another sleeping girl and hang it off a ceiling light. I know, right? Off the hook. Actually, Tanya Packer was really a bully and the "bad girl" of the school and I'd once gotten in trouble after she wrote me and Melita Grace a letter filled with swear words just because she thought it was cool. My peer-pressure-induced reply (yes, I was weak, I remain weak) was discovered by someone (A teacher? My mother?) and it became an Issue With The Principal. I didn't even have Tanya's original letter to show them because I clearly remember riding my red bike out to the bins (we had a long driveway) to personally dispose of it before anyone could see it. But I tell you, I learned a valuable fucking lesson about language after that whole affair. </div>
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Where was I? Oh yes, Tanya Packer. We parted ways at the end of primary school. I assume she hit adulthood, got knocked up several times by different fellas and now lives a flea-bitten existence somewhere on Brisbane's northside with more children than teeth. I realise that's cruel, but let's face it, she was going that way. You don't know what a head job is at age 10 without certain paths drawing you towards them. Yes, that was how I learned what a head job was. I've never recovered.</div>
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I'll admit something though - for a good part of the 1990s, I thought Sophie B. Hawkins and Sarah Jessica Parker were the same person. I'm sure you can understand the confusion - big blonde curly hair, pointy faces, unnecessary middle names/initials. It was only really after Sex and the City began that it dawned on me that SJP probably wouldn't be seen dead in grungy flannel, even in the early 90s.</div>
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<i>Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover </i>was a proper rock ballad by a bonafide good singer. SBH had a pleasant raspy richness to her voice, which no doubt inspired the dingy basement setting of the video clip. While this song is no doubt entirely of the early 90s, it retains a certain sense of timelessness. Perhaps it's that deep two-note signature riff, or the way Sophie's soft verses build into the explosive "Damn!" of the chorus. Watch the clip, and I'm fairly certain it will get into your head. But unlike so many other earworms, it's not a wholly unpleasant experience.</div>
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-80057016055611658142013-10-07T21:22:00.002+10:002013-10-07T21:27:18.204+10:00A Wrap on FelafelI had planned oh-so-many in-depth, behind-the-scenes, special-extras type of posts about <i>He Died With a Felafel in His Hand.</i><br />
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Then the whole thing sort of sprang up, and before you know it, it was October 6 and the whole bally show was done and dusted.<br />
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It wasn't that the production and performance week was a blur; more that it would've been nice to slow time down just a little. Just a smidge. Just a fraction.<br />
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The adventure began, of course, about six months ago, when I confirmed production dates with the <a href="http://www.brisbanepowerhouse.org/" target="_blank">Brisbane Powerhouse</a>.<br />
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It continued throughout the warm winter, rehearsing every Saturday, then ramping it up through September.<br />
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On Sunday September 29 we bumped into the beautiful Visy Theatre, following it up with rehearsals all day Monday and Tuesday, before the Tuesday evening preview.<br />
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Having an audience was a blessed relief and a joy. Their energy fed us, boosted us, made us work harder and hit our comedic beats even better. The actors revelled in their roles, and I delighted in watching them squeeze every last laugh, giggle, groan, howl and squeal out of their audiences.<br />
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We then had wonderful houses all week, including sell-outs on both Friday and Saturday nights.<br />
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So many people supported the show by coming along. I'm yet to get all the final figures, but at this stage I'm confident I will make the money I invested back. That makes me so proud: of Brisbane theatre-goers, of the cast and crew, and even of myself.<br />
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The experiment has given me some faith that I can apply myself to fairly ambitious projects and, with the help of good people, make them happen. Don't get me wrong - I have many skills still to acquire. I remain too easily stressed and upset when problems arise, and some of my technical and budgeting knowledge needs to be improved.<br />
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But still, it all got done in the end. So while I'm not launching into another theatre show straightaway, who knows what the future might hold?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dressing room wig shenanigans</i>.</td></tr>
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Finally, I'd like to throw up some links to people who helped along the way:<br />
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Author John Birmingham, obviously - his <a href="http://www.cheeseburgergothic.com/" target="_blank">Cheeseburger Gothic website</a> now also comes complete with a podcast.<br />
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My friends Dan and Aurelie Beeston let me abuse their talents in the way of graphic design and photography. Do check them out at <a href="http://www.civicnet.com.au/" target="_blank">CivicNet</a> and <a href="http://www.elyseephotography.com/" target="_blank">Elysee Photography</a>. Their level of talent should be illegal.<br />
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Heath Carney generously took fantastic production shots of the show; you can see them and more at <a href="http://heathcarney.com/" target="_blank">his website</a>.<br />
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Despite my renovations being finished, my builder Craig generously donated his time and expertise to help build our set pieces. I would highly recommend <a href="http://brisbanebuilders.com/" target="_blank">Corella Construction</a>.<br />
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The lovely Heena from <a href="http://thebluelotusretreat.com/" target="_blank">The Blue Lotus Retreat</a> came and gave the cast massages and professional make-up on our final day. She is just a gorgeous lady, and I can recommend her if you're looking for a beauty treat.<br />
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<a href="http://bentantari.com/" target="_blank">Ben Tantari</a> is a local Brisbane filmmaker who put together our teaser trailer.<br />
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One of our actors, Michael Fitzhywel, is a talented artist who has <a href="http://www.redbubble.com/people/sadako?ref=artist_title_name" target="_blank">cool designs for sale on Red Bubble</a>.<br />
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Another actor, Elizabeth Best, runs a great movie review site called <a href="http://superquickreviews.com/" target="_blank">Super Quick Reviews</a>.<br />
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Thank you, once again, to everyone who supported the show. Thank you so much.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lying on the Visy Theatre stage. <br />Didn't want to leave.</i></td></tr>
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-3709572142087135042013-09-15T23:51:00.000+10:002013-09-16T00:01:57.577+10:00Lost in Translation, or, Chinese WhispersI have thousands of pictures in my iPhone's camera roll. Occasionally I try to go through and delete batches of them, but still they mount up.<br />
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During one such attempted clean-out while standing in a queue this weekend, I found shots from my trip to China earlier this year, which I had always intended to form into a hopefully-interesting-sort-of-post.<br />
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One of my favourite things about visiting China is seeking out odd products, and even better, the mistranslation of product descriptions into English. I think it's because Chinese is a very visual, descriptive language, and the transplanting of those concepts into English is either innately pretty or hilariously off-putting.<br />
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For example: These wax strips are described as "Depilate Sacrificial Paper", and when you think about, that kind of makes sense. You are, after all, offering up your unwanted body hair to the temple of beauty. Note: these strips work best on human body limbs, so forget about waxing your ... cat.<br />
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Here's a helpful product to stop the waste plastic bags create. My favourite is the pleading catchphrase at the bottom of the pack.</div>
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This one was for some sort of music festival. I've got no idea what's going on.</div>
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A still picture doesn't really do justice to the "Shrilling Chicken". When you squeezed this toy, it let off a sound that can only be described as a busty soprano being steamrolled by a boiling kettle.</div>
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I'm pretty certain the "There are no ugly women only lazy women" line is credited to Coco Chanel. But who came up with "Clothes is women's face job", Buffalo Bill?</div>
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If memory serves, these didn't taste half bad.</div>
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And then there was this one. Again, no idea. I almost bought this one, because I wanted to try to work out exactly what it was. My best guess was an ice-block mould in the shape of the dog turd. But I chickened out of forking over my hard-earned yuan for it because of the SWASTIKA EYEBALLS. I just didn't want to answer odd questions at Customs on the way back into Australia.<br />
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These next ones were my favourite. We took a day trip out to the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall, and our driver decided the best way to entertain us on the hour-long commute would be to whack on his pirated copy of noted singer Sarah Brightman's 2008 opus <i>A Winter Symphony</i>.<br />
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I can say that it was pirated because - beyond the obvious joke - the English lyrics to the songs were fantastically wrong. As in, I could sit here for days and not come up with a funnier match of song title and actual lyrics.</div>
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That's the lyrics of <i>Jumpin' Jack Flash</i> by the Rolling Stones, NOT <i>Ave Maria</i>. And it's followed by <i>I Believe in Father Christmas</i>, which bears a striking resemblance to <i>Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves</i>. As I said, comic fricking genius.</div>
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But the best was this one - and sadly I don't know the name of the song, but <i>Canto Della Terra</i> sure got a lot fruitier than Ms Brightman probably intended.</div>
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Have you got any good examples of strange products and crazy translations?</div>
Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-65273364374605464182013-09-12T00:25:00.000+10:002013-09-12T00:30:29.619+10:00Queensland Police Pay Lip(ton) Service to Equality<div class="p1">
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The Queensland Police Service has denied allegations of sexism in its ranks, describing its female officers as a vitally important and attractive part of the force.</div>
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A review of the state’s emergency services by former AFP commissioner Mick Keelty highlighted examples of senior policewomen <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/queensland/queensland-police-to-probe-sexism-claims-20130911-2tj15.html" target="_blank">being asked to make tea at meetings</a>.</div>
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“We don’t believe sexism is rampant in the QPS,” said Deputy Commissioner Russ McSweeney, sipping on a Twinings Earl Grey.</div>
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“Our female officers are treated with respect and dignity, nothing to do with cuppas or cup sizes,” he said. </div>
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Deputy Commissioner McSweeney cited a recent case in which 29-year-old Constable Sheryl Jones was celebrated for her efforts in arresting a suspected shoplifter in the Queen Street Mall.</div>
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“She held the bloke down during a struggle, during which time buttons were ripped off her uniform issue shirtfront, exposing her lace bra,” he said.</div>
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“The boys made sure they took photographic evidence on their smartphones so Constable Jones could be appropriately honoured that Friday night at the pub.”</div>
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Deputy Commissioner McSweeney said the incident proved that highly skilled female officers were part of a well-rounded police service.</div>
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“Some of them are very well-rounded indeed,” he said.</div>
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Detective Inspector Maureen Srakowski said the service was a more positive place for women officers than when she first joined up.</div>
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“It was common in the early 1990s to receive a lot of abuse on call outs,” she said.</div>
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“It made sense - we were invading someone’s space and forcing them to improve their behaviour to a standard acceptable to the community.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NwOHOunOw_g/UjB302VYYVI/AAAAAAAADXM/HSPJaEwUX98/s1600/sexycop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NwOHOunOw_g/UjB302VYYVI/AAAAAAAADXM/HSPJaEwUX98/s400/sexycop.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Constable Mavis Duncan was poached by <br />the Academy while working at Starbucks.</i></td></tr>
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“But still, it made it hard to actually get out of the paddywagon and arrest some bad guys.”</div>
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DI Srakowski, now a widely recognised expert in organised crime and drug trafficking, said anti-discrimination and workplace safety training had come along in leaps and bounds.</div>
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“Now I can go days without hearing a single ‘Remember your gun, sugartits?’”</div>
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Deputy Commissioner McSweeney said the key to building confidence and respect for female recruits lay in providing a variety of challenging opportunities.</div>
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“For example, C.I.B just purchased a new Nespresso machine, so we’ll have a range of coffee options for upcoming meetings as well,” he said.</div>
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“If they can make that cream frothing thing work, I say go the femmos.”</div>
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-86282791314843878572013-09-10T07:41:00.003+10:002013-09-10T07:42:39.155+10:00Felafel on FilmToday marks three weeks - three weeks! - until the curtains come up on <i><a href="http://www.felafeltheplay.com/" target="_blank">He Died With a Felafel in His Hand</a></i> at the Brisbane Powerhouse.<br />
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Of course we're in the Visy Theatre, which is a thrust stage, so there are no curtains, but you get the general idea.</div>
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I must admit this date makes the situation quite stark - while I'm happy with our progress so far there is a metric truckload of work still to be done.</div>
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In the meantime, please enjoy this wonderful <i>Felafel</i> taster film, courtesy of the very talented and very generous <a href="http://bentantari.com/" target="_blank">Ben Tantari</a>.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Knp0xbHbG3g?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br />
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You can book tickets to <i>He Died With a Felafel in His Hand</i> <a href="http://www.felafeltheplay.com/" target="_blank">online now</a>, or check out the backstory of <a href="http://www.girlclumsy.com/2013/08/he-died-with-felafel-in-his-hand-again.html" target="_blank">how it all came about</a>.Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-33919164305824321162013-09-02T23:10:00.000+10:002013-09-02T23:27:09.209+10:00ThunderclapMy father retired recently. He's still working the odd job as a marine pilot, but he now finds himself with a whole lot more spare time to spend at the pokies beating The Man at his own game.<br />
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I am being cheeky here of course; my Dad is the eminently sensible kind of person who insists I put extra money into my superannuation, and so I'm sure his trips to the Kedron-Wavell Services Club are kept entirely within affordable means.<br />
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One of his retirement gifts was an Apple TV which, being a gadget nut, he had set up within 24 hours of receiving it.<br />
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I popped over this evening for dinner and to welcome my Gran, the esteemed Queen Pat herself, into town on her latest visit. She assures me that her arrival from Vanuatu was all about seeing family, and absolutely nothing to do with the <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/international-drug-bust-nets-750kg-of-cocaine-20130823-2sfsq.html" target="_blank">recent seizure of 750kg of cocaine in Port Vila</a>.<br />
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Après le dîner, my Dad busted out the YouTube app on the Apple TV.<br />
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"Oh! I have the YouTube," said my Gran cheerfully, still impressed with her recently installed broadband WiFi connection. "I've been watching <i>Yes, Minister</i>, and <i>The Two Ronnies</i>."<br />
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Gran picked at her cuticles as she told me about the YouTube - that's Yoo Tyoob in her English accent, not the ocker Yew Chube - and I picked at my cuticles as I listened.<br />
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The family resemblance is strong.<br />
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Dad found the clip he was looking for, and it started playing.<br />
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"The <i>Grom</i>!" he yelled triumphantly.<br />
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"The what? Your Daddy was on the <i>Grom</i>," said Gran.<br />
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"Yes, look, here it is!"<br />
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My grandfather, Maciej, was an officer in the Polish Navy, part of the section that escaped after the German invasion and put themselves under Allied command.<br />
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The <i>Grom</i> was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ORP_Grom_(1936)" target="_blank">a speedy destroyer </a>which ran gunfire support missions during the Norwegian campaign. She was built in England and her name was Polish for Thunderclap. Her twin, the <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Błyskawica, </i>can still be seen today in the port of Gdynia. Her name meant... you guessed it, Lightning.</span></span><br />
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The <i>Grom</i> was apparently feared by Germans for her kick-ass determination to kill as many of them as possible - although local civilians who copped the friendly fire apparently weren't as impressed.<br />
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She was sunk during the Battle of Narvik on May 4, 1940.<br />
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At the time, Grandad was a navigator, but also manned the guns, which left him deaf in one ear.<br />
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He was obviously thrown into the water - or got himself into the water quickly - when a German bomb hit the <i>Grom</i>. He later told Gran he watched his fellow sailors' faces through the portholes as they struggled but failed to best the rushing water.<br />
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Fifty-nine souls were lost.<br />
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Maciej was rescued after an hour in the icy water. Apparently his first memory was trying to punch out rescuers on deck of the ship that retrieved him - he thought they were stealing his lifejacket when it fact they were trying to take the sodden garment off him.<br />
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As the clip finished, I thought about just how much of a badass my Grandad must have been.<br />
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I wasn't alone.<br />
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"That was when they made men as real men," my Gran mused aloud.<br />
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"What, they're not men now?" I asked.<br />
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"No, they're namby-pamby things."<br />
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And I'm reminded once more that it's Gran who's the real badass.<br />
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<br />Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-81142492699519270912013-09-01T00:00:00.000+10:002013-09-01T00:00:00.474+10:00White RabbitsA public service announcement:<br />
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<br />I'm not exactly sure when the competition to say "Pinch and a punch" first began between <a href="http://www.smartenough.org/" target="_blank">The Wah</a> and I.<br />
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All I know is that I usually lose. The Wah will pop up, usually under the guise of giving me a hug, which of course suckers me in.<br />
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But then it comes: the bite of fingertips into flesh, a stinging reality bomb that is ten times worse than the friendly follow-up cuff to the shoulder.<br />
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"Pinch and a punch!"<br />
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Cue The Wah flashing an impishly smug grin while I jump up and down yelling "Not again!"<br />
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Well! I remembered this month. BOOM.Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-73352911859779636752013-08-30T01:19:00.000+10:002013-08-30T01:19:32.948+10:00EllouiseThis is a genuinely nice story.<br />
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I met Ellouise at a pub in Brisbane's west two weeks ago. She was hosting a function to raise money for a Ride to Conquer Cancer event she was due to take part in the following weekend.<br />
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She'd been expecting sixty guests. Only ten came.<br />
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I felt desperately sad for Ellouise. I've had that horrible sinking feeling when you've planned something, made an effort, tried so hard to capture people's attention... and fallen short of what you wanted to achieve.<br />
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I chatted with Ellouise's mum, who gave us the background on why she was holding the fundraiser. Ellouise's Dad had died four years previously after fighting a brain tumour. This charity bike ride, which raises money for research centre QIMR Berghofer, was the first thing she had done to try to pay tribute to her Dad's memory.<br />
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While the guests who did attend evidently loved and supported Ellouise, her mum was worried the low turnout would negatively affect her daughter going into the ride... and beyond.<br />
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I went to sleep that night thinking of Ellouise - such a sweet young lady trying to do a good thing.<br />
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The next morning, I interspersed regular work with a bit of amateur sleuthing/stalking. I was able to track down Ellouise on Facebook, then get a media contact at QIMR Berghofer to find her official Ride to Conquer Cancer fundraising page.<br />
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That was another gut punch - there were no donations recorded, despite a $2500 fundraising goal.<br />
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I took out my credit card and donated $50. Then I posted a message on Facebook explaining the story and making a plea:<br />
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I was hoping a few people might feel generous and we could raise a few hundred dollars. I went back to doing my work, and when I checked back a few minutes later, the tally was already at $120. Then it was $360. Then $480. Then $530.<br />
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It kept going up. And up. The tally was over $800 a mere 30 minutes after my original post.<br />
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Friends on Facebook liked my post, then shared it. Friends of friends starting posting comments saying they were chipping in. Other friends popped up on my Facebook chat to give me running updates on the tally.<br />
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Something about Ellouise's story simply swept people up, and so many joined in the fun of what one friend described as "the best kind of practical joke on a stranger".<br />
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An hour or so after my post went up, I told my deputy editor and asked if I could do a short story on the Ride to Conquer Cancer for <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/" target="_blank">Brisbane Times</a>. She agreed, so I spoke with the head of QIMR Berghofer about the event - and then I rang Ellouise.<br />
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She remembered me from the night before; I explained that I was a journalist and that I wanted to interview her as a participant in the ride. She seemed chuffed and we had a good chat. Just before I let her go, I asked Ellouise how her fundraising was going. She replied that her internet had been down and she hadn't had a chance to check before heading out to pick up her bike and other equipment for the ride.<br />
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By this point there was well over $1000 in donations to Ellouise's campaign - and she had no idea.<br />
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While I wrote my story, the Facebook post kept being shared, and donations kept flowing in.<br />
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I left work around 4.00pm to head to the ABC, where I do a regular Friday afternoon segment. At that point, a work colleague filled my boss in on the social media blitz - and he suggested we put the post up on the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/brisbanetimes" target="_blank">Brisbane Times Facebook page</a>. This extra boost put it in front of thousands more people, many of whom jumped right onboard the fundraising wagon.<br />
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By the time I finished at the ABC at 5.00pm, Elouise had surpassed that magic $2500 mark.<br />
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It was, simply put, the best feeling I'd had in a fair while. I couldn't stop smiling.<br />
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The donations continued into Saturday morning, when a relative of Ellouise commented on the Brisbane Times Facebook page that she had seen her tally erupt and was pumped and "riding her heart out".<br />
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In total, friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends donated $3000 to young Ellouise - a stranger to them. It was a really wonderful credit to all of those good-hearted people, and gave me a real buzz about humanity in general.<br />
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On Thursday, two weeks to the day after I met Ellouise, I received an email from her. She had completed the ride - or as she called it "a small journey of significance" - despite a flat tyre just metres after the starting line, and other gear problems along the way.<br />
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Here's another excerpt that I wanted to share for all those who donated:<br />
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<i>I just want to say the most biggest THANK YOU to you for helping me out in the Conquer Cancer fundraising. As soon as I got home from the day you called me to check the donation website, I was completely overwhelmed with the generosity and support I had. It went above and beyond. I went to call you back but never could get through, but my mum had found out about an article you had posted in the Brisbane Times. Thank you for doing such a wonderful thing. As I cycled the ride it felt great to know that so many people cared and were truly passionate in fighting to conquer cancer.</i></blockquote>
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And here's her concluding line:<br />
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<i>I'm sure my father was watching over me at the time I met you.</i></blockquote>
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And yes, that may have made me tear up.<br />
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They often say there aren't a lot of good news stories out there. I'm so pleased I got the opportunity to help make one happen.<br />
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Thanks again to all those who donated, and all the credit in the world to Ellouise for her strength and love for her Dad.Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-66178159705135665012013-08-24T00:38:00.001+10:002013-08-24T00:38:49.299+10:00CorsetryIn the words of <a href="http://www.smartenough.org/">Dan Beeston</a>:<br />
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"It's like you were attacked by two space hoppers!"<br />
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<br />Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-39126972352178880312013-08-05T21:53:00.000+10:002013-08-23T08:49:47.261+10:00He Died With a Felafel in His Hand.... againBecause there's nothing tastier than a reheated kebab...
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That's right, <a href="http://www.felafeltheplay.com/" target="_blank">we're bringing <i>Felafel</i> back</a>, in much the same way Justin Timberlake brought sexy back in 2006.</div>
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Author and generous supporter John Birmingham <a href="http://cheeseburgergothic.com/5602" target="_blank">made the official announcement via his blog</a> last week, but I thought it might be prudent to give a bit of background on how it all came about.</div>
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Long time followers of the Girl Clumsy wunderblog (which has been Gobe-like in its sparseness of late, and this is part of the reason why) may recall I first directed at production of <i>Felafel</i> at the Brisbane Arts Theatre back in 2009.</div>
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It was a huge success for that beloved theatre of mine - it helped the place get through a terribly rocky financial time and enjoyed a great positive response. Except for one ABC radio home reviewer who described it as a show "you wouldn't take your wife to". We put that on a badge and sold it by the truckload.</div>
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Anyway, we returned for an encore season in January 2010, followed just a few months later by the premiere of its sequel, <i>The Tasmanian Babes Fiasco</i>, written especially for us by playwright Simon Bedak.</div>
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The trilogy was completed with 2011's <i>How to Be a Man</i>, loosely inspired by JB and Dirk Flinthart's guide for young men.</div>
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At the tail end of last year - or was it early January? I can't remember - I was at the Brisbane Powerhouse for some other reason and I started thinking about how I'd love to put on a show there, but how the financial risk was problematic.</div>
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Then I remembered <i>Felafel - </i>a show I know back to front, a popular work with a reputation that might just put bums on seats and give me the best chance of a self-funded show breaking even.</div>
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I immediately texted Simon Bedak, saying "What do you think about doing a run of Felafel at the Powerhouse?"</div>
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He texted back. "Sure. Who is this?"</div>
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After establishing that my contact number wasn't in his new phone, we got to talking, and agreed that the idea had merit.</div>
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I touched base with the wonderful cast of actors I've surrounded myself with since those first <i>Felafel</i> days. They were excited by the idea, bless them. I couldn't have gone ahead with it if it weren't for their encouragement and enthusiasm.</div>
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I began negotiations with the Powerhouse to find a suitable date. In late April we settled on a week-long run in the Visy Theatre during the first week of October, and by June we had begun rehearsals.</div>
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It's pretty much a perfect scenario. Six shows across five days, after a few days to bump in and tech the show. It means the cast could take one week off their day jobs (if they were able to) and enjoy being a working actor for a week. </div>
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A limited season means anyone keen to see the show needs to book in. A familiar show means less stress for me as a director (and an actor, hint hint).</div>
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However, I don't want people to think this is a carbon copy of our 2009/2010 production. Of course, the script remains the same, but the staging will change based on the Visy Theatre's thrust, as opposed to the BAT's proscenium. </div>
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We're also updating and refreshing aspects of the show that we created, and returning to those beloved characters has given us a chance to really ramp up our acting game.</div>
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Bottom line - it's going to be a whole lot of fun.</div>
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I'm funding this project, and I'm really proud of myself for doing that. It's given me, and by extension my friends in the cast, a real sense of ownership and dedication to making it the best possible product we can. Of course, we've always done that - we're just stepping that commitment up again.</div>
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So I hope you consider booking tickets to <i><a href="http://www.felafeltheplay.com/" target="_blank">He Died With a Felafel in His Hand</a></i>.</div>
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I've tried to keep the tickets affordable - $39 for adults, $35 for concessions, plus the Tuesday night show is a preview with all tickets $30. </div>
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At the end of the day, I will come out ahead no matter what happens with the cash - the experience itself and production knowledge gained is priceless.</div>
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But it would be wonderful to give my actors killer audiences at each and every show. They're damn professionals and deserve to be seen. </div>
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If you're keen on spreading the love via social media you can <a href="http://www.facebook.com/felafeltheplay" target="_blank">"Like" our page on Facebook</a> - or follow our Twitter account <a href="http://www.twitter.com/felafeltheplay" target="_blank">@felafeltheplay</a>.</div>
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-63846450095146531852013-07-18T22:42:00.000+10:002013-08-22T10:47:03.118+10:00David Bradley: Britain's Go-To TV CreepI've just finished watching <i>Broadchurch</i>, the sensational ITV drama about a Dorset town torn apart when an 11-year-old boy is found murdered.<br />
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It features a great cast, including David Tenant, Oliva Colman and Arthur Darvill. But it also includes this man:</div>
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This is actor David Bradley. He plays the local newsagent in <i>Broadchurch</i>, and his character is one of a number who come under suspicion in the show. Now I don't think this is too much of a spoiler (as I highly recommend you watch the series), but he attracts attention because he's, well, creepy.</div>
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And that's the thing about David Bradley. I'm sure he's a lovely gentlemen, but as a character actor, he has become Britain's go-to TV creep.</div>
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He's been acting since 1971, but I first became aware of him in 1998, when he played the lascivious nobleman Sir Pitt Crawley in a BBC adaptation of <i>Vanity Fair</i>. Sir Pitt was a widower who got keen on young Becky Sharp, and was enraged when she turned down his proposal and married his younger, handsomer soldier son instead.</div>
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I would suggest that most people would know David Bradley from his role as cantankerous caretaker Argus Filch from the Harry Potter movie adaptations. He was generally comic relief in those films, but it was comedy that relied on his innate creepiness to work.</div>
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He's done a bunch of TV shows as a regular, and the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0103195/?ref_=sr_1">Internet Movie Database</a> lists him as a one-off character in other series including <i>Midsomer Murders </i>and <i>Ashes to Ashes</i>. He was also Cohen the Barbarian in the adaptation of Terry Pratchett's Discworld book, <i>The Colour of Magic</i>. Now sure, Cohen is a badass old warrior, but he's still creepy.</div>
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Bradley also turned up as villainous interstellar trader Solomon in the 2012 <i>Doctor Who</i> episode Dinosaurs on a Spaceship. To be honest, I can't remember much about that episode apart from the appalling "comedy" robots that shockingly misused the talents of David Mitchell and Robert Webb. But whatever, Bradley was still creepy.</div>
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And of course, the role for which he is probably most famous for at the moment, even though he's only appeared in about four scenes across three series: Ser Walder Frey in <i>Game of Thrones</i>.</div>
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Frey was always a creep - about 90 years old, he's produced dozens of children from a variety of wives and mistresses. But the events of the Red Wedding prove him as an UTTER, UTTER CREEP. </div>
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Now Bradley is always great in these roles, a testament to his acting prowess. But still, it's got to the point where every time I see him, I expect him to be a creep. Which is unfortunate, because very soon he'll be seen on screen in <i>An Adventure in Space and Time</i>, a dramatisation about the origins of Doctor Who. David Bradley is playing William Hartnell, aka the First Doctor.</div>
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Now I don't know a lot about William Hartnell, but he seems a kindly-enough old man, perhaps a bit stuffy. But the fact that he's being portrayed by David Bradley means I'm going to watch this program biting my nails and just waiting for Hartnell to be set up as a raving lunatic, a homicidal maniac or a Beatles fan.</div>
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<i><b>Do you have a favourite character actor, someone who turns up all the time in similar roles?</b></i></div>
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Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-45314574795218867972013-06-14T21:39:00.000+10:002013-08-22T10:46:49.576+10:00Raven On Recap WrapHello friends!<br />
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I thought it might be prudent to post some links here to my <i>Game of Thrones</i> Season 3 recaps, published this year on the Fairfax media sites (my own <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/">Brisbane Times</a>, the <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/">SMH</a> and <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/">The Age</a>).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I wish I was artistic and clever so I could make <a href="http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/game-of-thrones/images/23883770/title/game-thrones-wallpaper">cool fan art like this</a>!</i></td></tr>
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I was so stunned by the positive reaction that they got - to the point where I would get tweets and emails demanding to know where it was whenever it went up later than expected.<br />
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I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to read, share and comment - internet comment feeds can so often been a foul-smelling den of trolling and derp, but the <i>Game of Thrones</i> ones have just been delightful. Everyone's gone in with the right attitude, which is that we love this show and just want to bond over it!<br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/raven-on-game-of-thrones-premiere-recap-20130402-2h3ng.html">S3 Episode 1</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/cheese-of-thrones-20130408-2hgzx.html">S3 Episode 2</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/heads-hands-and-armies-20130415-2hvpd.html">S3 Episode 3</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/less-sex-and-more-strife-as-scores-are-settled-20130422-2iag8.html">S3 Episode 4</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/thrones-recap-family-ties-and-severances-20130430-2ippd.html">S3 Episode 5</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/skewed-and-skewered-as-torture-reigns-20130507-2j4ik.html">S3 Episode 6</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/bear-with-me-thrones-hits-the-pits-20130514-2jjf5.html">S3 Episode 7</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/game-of-thrones-recap-wedding-and-bedding-ceremonies-20130520-2jx2t.html">S3 Episode 8</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/got-recap-its-a-nice-day-for-a-red-wedding-20130603-2nmfa.html">S3 Episode 9</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/thrones-finale-filled-with-arrows-shy-of-the-heart-and-daggers-to-the-neck-20130611-2o109.html">S3 Episode 10</a><br />
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I also wrote a piece halfway through the season about <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/ice-and-fire-characters-were-loving-in-game-of-thrones-20130518-2jt7a.html">Characters We're Loving in GoT</a>; then when there was a week's break between episodes 8 and 9, I wrote a fun piece about things you could do <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/survival-guide-how-to-cope-with-thrones-withdrawal-20130528-2n88i.html">about filling the gaping hole in your life</a>.<br />
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After the brutal shock of the Red Wedding, I wrote an essay on <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/fanning-the-ice-and-fire-20130604-2no8k.html">why the fan reaction was so huge.</a><br />
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And author John Birmingham <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/when-you-recap-the-game-of-thrones-you-win-or-you-die-20130524-2k4xs.html">wrote a great essay about recaps as a writing form</a>, in which he very kindly praised my recaps!<br />
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I also want to point you to JB's new podcast, appropriately titled <a href="http://cheeseburgergothic.com/spartacast/spartacast002.mp3">Spartacast</a>, published through his <a href="http://www.cheeseburgergothic.com/">Cheeseburger Gothic website</a>.<br />
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JB invited me on to discuss <i>Game of Thrones</i> and the art of recapping. It was a lot of fun. Of course, I can talk <i>Game of Thrones</i> 'til the Cerseis come home, but there has been judicious editing to make it palatable to the ear for just the right amount of time.<br />
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JB's other partners in podcast crime are Dan & The Wah from <a href="http://www.smartenough.org/">Smart Enough to Know Better</a>, another awesome podcast that you should subscribe to.<br />
<br />Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-81946551792000763212013-06-11T00:14:00.000+10:002013-08-22T10:46:34.917+10:00Floods on the First FloorYou guys, I've found this wonderfully relaxing hobby called "renovating".<br />
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You should all try it.</div>
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I went into this process with the mantra that everything would probably take a bit longer and cost a bit extra than I predicted.</div>
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It has, and that's cool. That's renovating.</div>
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It's been relatively OK living away from home at my parents' house - they're always generous, and due to my work and play commitments keeping me busy, it hardly even feels like I'm there much. </div>
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I even went to Kingaroy the other weekend for a work visit. Look, here's proof:</div>
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What has been interesting is the two types of renovation crises that seem to occur.</div>
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The first is Human Error.</div>
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We had an example of this just last Friday. I returned to the flat to have a look at the living room painting that had been going on. </div>
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We'd tested a few samples and decided on a Dulux colour called "Peplum White" because it seemed the brightest, and we wanted a light living area. </div>
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So I was very surprised, when I opened the door, to discover a distinct tint to our walls. </div>
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"It's.... purple," I said aloud, to no one.</div>
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"Purple," I repeated, as if saying it again would make it stop being true.</div>
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An hour or so, The Wah confirmed the diagnosis, although his declaration was for "lavender", which is quite specific for a colour-blind person.</div>
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Frantic calls to builders were made, notes were wedged in doors, Saturday morning scrambling was arranged to rejig the colour scheme. </div>
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The tradies were very understanding of my decision to repaint - but I was frustrated with myself. I could understand why the sample, that had looked completely fine as a sample, turned out so differently.</div>
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As soon as I walked up to the Dulux bank of colours and started looking at the white options again, it became obviously, painfully clear:</div>
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I'd tested out the Peplum White Quarter Strength, but had forgotten about the "Quarter Strength" part.</div>
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So there's some more cash - entirely my own fault for not double-checking the sample pot.</div>
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If there is a bright side, it's that knowing now that Peplum has a purple undertone, we've decided to go with another white option. Even a lighter shade of purple undertone may still clash with our colour scheme, so we're hoping the repaint will avoid that. </div>
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It's been a lesson in just how many versions of "white" there are out there, I can tell you.</div>
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The second type of crisis is the Unpredictable Disaster.</div>
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This happened to us just yesterday.</div>
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Not long after I arrived at work, I got a call from The Wah. He'd been called by one of our neighbours. Another neighbour had woken to discover water in his flat - coming from ours above.</div>
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I called the builder and he scrambled and reached the flat a few minutes before The Wah did.</div>
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There was over an inch of water across our new tiles, seeping into the carpet in our bedrooms - which are currently being used as storerooms for our furniture, clothes, bedding, books and other miscellaneous items.</div>
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The Wah, our neighbours and our builders worked like champions to stem the tide.</div>
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Feeling a bit helpless at work, I started the ball rolling on an insurance claim.</div>
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By the time I got home, there were damp carpets and a whole lot of water-logged stuff, but the indoor swimming pool had been drained.</div>
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The plumber has confirmed that our new fridge was defective, resulting in some sort of breakdown that caused the flood.</div>
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So now we begin the process of assessing that damage and sorting through our possessions to check what can be salvaged.</div>
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Ironically, due to my human error with the paint, the flat had still been set up with protective canvases over the floors. Those canvases got water-logged - quite possibly slowing the flow of water into the bedrooms.</div>
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So if it wasn't for my Human Error, the Unpredictable Disaster could've been much worse.</div>
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Well, that's my story anyway, and I'm sticking to it.</div>
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Have you got any good renovation stories?</div>
Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-54953338777538985172013-05-15T00:36:00.001+10:002013-05-15T09:00:55.006+10:00Chez Clumsy: The Search for Nazi Gold<div style="margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You expect, when you renovate, to make a few little discoveries here and there.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For example, it turns out our kitchen water pipes all run from the ceiling down, not the floor up. This means rejigging a few things, but it's one of those small hurdles that are simply a part of the renovating experience.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">What we did not expect to discover, on a sneaky Tuesday evening reconnoissance, was this:</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Is that.... is that a <strong><em>swastika</em></strong>?" I heard The Wah say as I was checking out the space where the kitchen used to be. I spun around and stared at the ground.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Ah... that's ... that's a swastika!" I confirmed. Then shock. "What is a <strong><em>swastika</em></strong> doing in my house?!?!"</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">But there was no denying, there was a swastika in the house.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Painted on the concrete, then tiled over.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For six years, The Wah and I - and all of our friends and family members - have been walking upon the world's most infamous insignia.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our urbane, sophisticated inner-city unit had all over a sudden become an Anti-Semitic hate den, or perhaps a repository for hidden Nazi gold.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Of course it begs the question: <strong><em>WTF</em></strong>? Who <strong><em>PAINTS A SWASTIKA ON A FLOOR</em></strong>?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We know our apartment building used to be an office building before it was converted into flats in the early 2000s. We don't know who did the conversion - but we think they, or their sub-contractors, might have had at best a terrible sense of humour, and at worst, DIY tattoos and a dire need for therapy.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The problem is of course - how do we get rid of it? Sure, we'll be re-tiling, but if we don't destroy the swastika underneath, we will forever know it is there, lurking, like a Gestapo officer in a ghetto. We will be compelled to blurt out to anyone unfortunate enough to walk over that spot "DO YOU KNOW YOU'RE WALKING OVER A GODDAMNED SWASTIKA?" and then people will start questioning whether we're obsessing a bit too much about the swastika, and they might think perhaps that we sympathise or share those views, and the next thing you know <em>A Current Affair</em> will be bringing in a hidden camera and we'll end up on hate crime charges and that Girl Clumsy and The Wah always seemed so nice, but then it's always the nice ones who turn out to be rotten fascists...</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">NO! Like Churchill, I will not surrender.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We need ideas. I'm not a big believer in negative energies and whatnot, but I am a big believer in not having a f***ing swastika under your tiles. So what image should we paint or scribble over the top?</span></div>
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<br />Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-57173787922822038552013-05-12T23:04:00.000+10:002013-05-12T23:04:27.974+10:00A Bubbling Source of InspirationChez Clumsy is being renovated.<div>
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Starting within hours, in fact, of me typing this.</div>
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It's been months in the planning, and now we're at a point where most of the to-be-renovated space is clear, a metric f*** ton of clutter has been decluttered, and the old bordello is ready for her facelift.</div>
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Here's a picture of the kitchen with a slice of the balcony area as it was mid clear-out - you can get a sense of the mess:</div>
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If you're my father reading this, you will be currently on a boat somewhere off the west coast of America yelling "What mess? That's how it looks normally!" and feeling very proud of your joke. </div>
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If you're my mother reading this, you will be on the same boat, probably rolling your eyes at my father's joke, but secretly agreeing that you're not sure how the daughter of two neat-freak parents managed to turn out a slob.</div>
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Well, slob I am, slob I shall probably always remain.</div>
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However I have been taking a rather perverse pleasure in the act of decluttering. </div>
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Every bag of rubbish taken down to the bins is a small victory in the never-ending war against <b><i>stuff</i></b>.</div>
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I'm not even being as brutal as I probably should be. Once the renovation is complete, I can see myself ditching more things because they a) don't suit, b) are shabby or c) I just don't need them.</div>
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It can be hard to part with certain things - particularly travel mementos or little personal trinkets received as gifts or picked up randomly somewhere.</div>
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And it's not to say I don't like stuff. I'm just seeing the attraction of less stuff. I want to be more agile in the spaces where I exist. I think I just want to be <b><i>less</i></b>. It ties in a bit with my desire to lose weight (not that anything has happened there; if anything living off mostly take-out and having no time over recent weeks probably means I've stacked on again). Some part of me feels that by being <i><b>less</b></i>, I will actually be <b><i>more</i></b> - more active, more creative, more capable of managing my time and more of a contributor.</div>
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It would also just be nice to not live in a midden.</div>
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Another experience that is relatively new for me is the willingness to shell out for more expensive items even though there are cheaper options available.</div>
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I realise I've become a bit of an appliance/fitting snob.</div>
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It's not that I'm flashing cash around willy-nilly - I'm still wheeling and dealing and buying on discounts and specials. But when The Wah and I visited a big builders' discount-type warehouse recently to look at taps and sinks, all I could really see is how.... <i><b>cheap</b></i>... they were. </div>
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You start to think - I'm paying out a fair slab of the folding to get a custom-made kitchen. It's not the Rolls Royce of kitchens, sure. Maybe the high-end Hyundai of kitchens. But I still don't want to fit it with Bargain Bob's Retreads 'R' Us tyres, you know?</div>
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So all of my appliances are Smeg.</div>
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Heh. Smeg.</div>
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And I've forked over more to get some swish Swiss fittings.</div>
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Look at this baby - my new tap, Eve.</div>
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The instruction sheet for Eve refers to her as "a bubbling source of inspiration" for your kitchen.<br />
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It's airy promotional material, sure, but you try brushing your fingertips across Eve's stainless steel curves and tell me she isn't one sexy culinary muse.</div>
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I look forward to sharing the final results of the renovations with you - a few people have been laughing at my optimistic attitude that it will all run smoothly, but I have no reason to fear at the moment.</div>
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We shall see.</div>
Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-61096819268583496002013-04-23T09:50:00.000+10:002013-04-23T09:50:20.860+10:00Raven MadMy Raven On <i>Game of Thrones</i> episode recaps are still going on over at the mighty Brisbane Times and affiliates - supposedly they're doing quite well in terms of audience response.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aMBovd6AO_k/UXXJ3UJH7WI/AAAAAAAAAGw/H4yV2lHmnrw/s1600/dany.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aMBovd6AO_k/UXXJ3UJH7WI/AAAAAAAAAGw/H4yV2lHmnrw/s400/dany.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Read them, or I'll smite you with infinite prejudice</i></td></tr>
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The <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/less-sex-and-more-strife-as-scores-are-settled-20130422-2iag8.html">S3E4 recap is up today</a>, and I was greeted first thing this morning by my inaugural complaint email.<br />
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Leaving aside the gentleman's name, I reproduce his words here, because they are glorious:<br />
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Why oh why do you insist on spamming us with your articles on Game of Thrones. FFS it's just a TV show and no other TV show gets weekly episode reviews.... give it a rest !!!!</blockquote>
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I can't tell you how thrilled I am to receive my first "Why oh why" email. It's an even better feeling than I had imagined.<br />
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I really want to reply to this gentleman's email. It's taking me a great deal of effort to stick by the philosophy that you shouldn't poke the angry bear.<br />
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But in case he happens to journey around the interwebs, and perhaps come across this blog, I just want to make a few points that perhaps he didn't stop to consider:<br />
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<li>It is actually impossible to be "spammed" by a news website that you yourself choose to visit.</li>
<li>There is no requirement for you to actually click on the recap and read it.</li>
<li>In fact, many TV shows are recapped weekly on Fairfax sites, including <i>Mad Men</i>, <i>My Kitchen Rules</i> and <i>The Voice</i>.</li>
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For the most part though, I've been absolutely delighted with the response of commenters on the recaps, so do join in the fun if you're willing and able.<br />
<br />Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-55666410759500128372013-04-17T01:35:00.002+10:002013-04-17T01:35:46.304+10:00Fake DisneylandMy poor blog, how I neglect you.<br />
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I'm in a frustrating position where I want to post here more often, but find myself without the time or inspiration for an entry. Or I twist myself in knots trying to think of the wittiest possible take on a subject before abandoning the idea as ultimately fruitless or "done somewhere else, probably better".<br />
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Then when I do get some time - such as a few stolen moments on holiday in Beijing last week - the Great Firewall stopped my upload attempts.<br />
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Anyway, that's enough self-flagellation - hopefully I will get a chance over the next few days to post a few things that have been sliding their way through my brain meats.<br />
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For now, I thought you might enjoy this short film made at the Shijingshan Amusement Park in Beijing's west.<br />
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My fellow improviser Amy - who I had travelled with to attend the fourth annual <a href="http://www.beijingimprov.org/" target="_blank">Beijing Improv Festival</a> - was keen to check out the so-called "Fake Disneyland.<br />
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And so it was that we arrived on a Monday morning to find one of the strangest places on Earth.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/b8qzCxQ21-s" width="560"></iframe>Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01056312179921746322noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-16007731198840370582013-04-03T23:26:00.000+10:002013-04-03T23:26:26.895+10:00Raven On returns...with a twistI was looking forward to Game of Thrones returning, not just because it is the MOST BRILLIANT SHOW EVER TRULY EVER EXCEPT MAYBE XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS WOAH CAN YOU IMAGINE IF THEY DID A GoT/XENA CROSSOVER SOMEBODY SHOULD WRITE THAT AS FAN FICTION ACTUALLY WAIT THAT'S A TERRIBLE IDEA, but because I really enjoyed writing my Raven On recaps last season.<br />
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I was sitting at work early last week pondering how good it would be to have a regular requirement to blog, as I am very aware of how derelict I have been in my recreational writing over the past few months.<br />
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Then I remembered I work for a national news organisation that might be interested in recaps. A few emails/calls later, and there it was: <a href="http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/entertainment/box-seat/raven-on-game-of-thrones-premiere-recap-20130402-2h3ng.html">Raven On is going national</a>.<br />
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I do hope fans of the recaps will keep reading over at Fairfax; I've kept the same format and the same unwieldy length.<br />
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Now that I'm an official "reviewer", I've been given previews of future episodes - they are marked and totally traceable so I won't be uploading them to the internet. They're not high def anyway, so it's not like you get the best boob-viewing experience.<br />
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I'm off to Beijing on Saturday, so I have to get a couple of recaps done in advance. But I will give you a bit of a random cryptic clue about Episode 2: the cheesy bit is the best.<br />
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<br />Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795390.post-30243319417773208022013-03-18T00:25:00.000+10:002013-03-18T00:41:44.478+10:00Stop the Bookshelf PornEveryone on the internet loves bookshelf porn.<br />
<br />
You know what I'm talking about.<br />
<br />
That constant stream of photos that do the rounds on social media, attracting drooling "likes", adoring retweets, and gushing comments:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b0wzYUohWFM/UUXQz32ARBI/AAAAAAAAAFw/i-VQHbIQ4r0/s1600/books2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b0wzYUohWFM/UUXQz32ARBI/AAAAAAAAAFw/i-VQHbIQ4r0/s320/books2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>OMG IT'S A PACMAN SHELF CAUSE PACMAN<br />WAS RENOWNED FOR HIS LOVE OF CHERRIES & BOOKS</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmv35m-BhBE/UUXQz1-4PsI/AAAAAAAAAF0/KUUFf1-OXLo/s1600/books3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmv35m-BhBE/UUXQz1-4PsI/AAAAAAAAAF0/KUUFf1-OXLo/s320/books3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It's a bookshelf that says READ, because that's insightful<br />and encouraging, you know?</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk_D-I8gYKo/UUXQ0P7LT2I/AAAAAAAAAF8/on2hgob2rKk/s1600/books1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk_D-I8gYKo/UUXQ0P7LT2I/AAAAAAAAAF8/on2hgob2rKk/s320/books1.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I'm going to get a pointy house just so I can build this!</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dHOYRA80rVk/UUXQ0ey4J4I/AAAAAAAAAGE/DsyrEAbUUJk/s1600/books5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dHOYRA80rVk/UUXQ0ey4J4I/AAAAAAAAAGE/DsyrEAbUUJk/s320/books5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>ARGHGHGH IT'S A POD A READING POD SO ERGONOMIC</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wmbfV0hZkQc/UUXQ1ZV6-tI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/jnD2f2Dpej4/s1600/books4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wmbfV0hZkQc/UUXQ1ZV6-tI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/jnD2f2Dpej4/s320/books4.jpg" width="289" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It's an ideas tree, can you FEEL your creativity GROWING?<br />Also books are made of trees so it's like a life cycle.</i></td></tr>
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<br />
I realise I sound like a bitter illiterate (billiterate?) sow, but honestly, have you people never heard of dust?<br />
<br />
Sure, these bookshelves are marvellously creative and appeal to our collective sense of whimsy, but let's think of the practicalities.<br />
<br />
You show me one of these bookshelves IN REAL LIFE, and I'll show you a warren of so many dust bunnies you could re-enact <i>Watership Down</i>.<br />
<br />
Honestly, all these internet people with fancy bookshelves must live in hermetically sealed, climate controlled environments, where no dust can permeate.<br />
<br />
Or maybe they clean regularly or something. Whatever.<br />
<br />
All I know is that it seems sometimes that these pictures appeal to people because they fancy themselves as "book people".<br />
<br />
You know, the kind of people who imagine themselves as thoroughly literate types, with iced tea and organic mini-muffins on hand as they tuck themselves into their bohemian book nook to take in the latest <b><i>insert 'posh' or 'cred' author here</i></b>.<br />
<br />
Bless you, if you are one of those people. I often wish I could be like you. You probably wash your hair in pure mountain streams and knit your own hemp trousers. All very admirable, until your allergies play up from all the dust collecting on your stack of Frankie magazines.<br />
<br />
Me? I'm trying to clear out books from Chez Clumsy. I've got too many. Of course there are a few favourite fictions and cherished non-fictions that I'll always hold onto, but the vast majority have no re-read value. They're just dust collectors.<br />
<br />
Before you slam me as having no romance in my soul, please remember that bagging books does not mean I'm bagging reading.<br />
<br />
I bought myself an iPad before heading to Burma last year, and I can tell you that the main thing I've used it for is reading eBooks. The damn thing's a bloody marvel. I don't even have to dog-ear a page to remember where I'm up to. THE iPAD REMEMBERS.<br />
<br />
And sure, while the first books I read on it were Stieg Larsson's Millenium Trilogy, followed by <i>A Clash of Kings</i> (aka <i>Game of Thrones</i> Series 2), I have just finished Hilary Mantel's <i>Bring Up the Bodies</i>, and that's PROPER literary.<br />
<br />
Also, you can't get paper cuts from iPads. Paper cuts frighten me on a level only topped by geckos. Just consider this for a moment: getting a paper cut ON YOUR EYEBALL.<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
I once thought of that, and then almost vomited. The thought has haunted me ever since. I shouldn't even write it here, lest the mere noting of the fear helps it manifest in the form of outraged hemp-knitting, Frankie devotees baying for my blood in between cups of dandelion tea.<br />
<br />
Point is - is it OK to not like having books around the place anymore? Have I completely lost my soul because I want less dust in my house?Girl Clumsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00991633192634398228noreply@blogger.com8