from roof-rocking the burbs to the bizarre world of tv, (sub)urban tomboy reveals what it's like to be a hyperactive, queer only-kid with a taste for adventure
when i was about 7-years-old i got sent to the johnny young talent school. this doesn't mean i was on the tv show... although all the kids who went to the school had that little carrot dangled in front of their noses so the stage mums and dads kept forking out the cash for weekly singing and dancing lessons.
instead we got to sing at MOOMBA and do annual concerts at DALLAS BROOKS HALL which scarred me for life. i'll come back to this in a sec.
each class was divided into two parts. first was the singing. here the teacher hit notes on an electric keyboard and we got to sing them back at her. now don't get me wrong... i loved to sing. i still do. and i can still remember the words to nearly all the songs we learnt... like this one:
and even this (unfortunately we didn't get to do guns'n'roses):
but i hated the dancing... which was the second part of the lesson. i just felt un-co. and for a kid who lived in dirt covered tracksuits and bubblegummers i hated having to wear a leotard. and i didn't like the other girls at the school who were bossy cos their mums had told them they were gonna be famous... even though my mum liked to tell me that i was gonna be famous... when really, if anyone was gonna be famous it'd be her:
johnny young was every sunday in richmond. and on weekends i liked to play with my cousins down blackburn creek exploring storm water drains and making rope swings. so i resented having to leave the creek early to get back in time for johnny young.
occasionally we were paid a visit by johnny himself... or some of the kids from the tv show. this was special and i liked it. johnny never touched any of us up in case you were wondering. well not that i know of anyways.
i went to johnny young for about 4-5 years. i'd had a gut full of it by grade 5 and decided to play basketball instead which didn't involve sequins.
ah yeah... the scarring. as i mentioned, each year we had a major concert where you could invite anyone who cared. sooo mums, dads and grandparents... and my auntie 'nin' liked to come too. for these occasions we'd learn a big group number and dress up in special coloured leotards with extra sequins and tassels. the singing was pre-recorded at a studio and we'd mime to ourselves while galavanting across the stage.
we were also encouraged to wear make up because our faces would be washed out by the lights... and this was my mum's favourite part... because it meant she got to spend ages colouring in my face with eyeliner, eye shadow, lip stick and blusher transforming me into a star. unfortunately, compared to the other kids... this (sub)urban tomboy ended up looking like a clown... or more accurately, like someone had punched me in the eyes. and the other girly girls used to tell me i had too much make up on which made me feel even more retarded.
i'm the freak standing up on the far right.
here you go... you can see better now:
i come from a loving, supportive, yet eccentric family, but i do believe this is child abuse.
i went to a funeral today. i cried. like you’re supposed to… allowed to... like you do. sometimes i forget what crying feels like but times like these remind me that i’m not a cyborg like the t-1000.
actually i take that back. i do cry a lot. but only when i laugh. when i laugh my eyes piss out water. so much so that the front of my t-shirt gets wet. it’s like i got wired back to front when they built me.
i didn’t really know the old lady who died. it was my nanna ina’s 92 year-old sister, jessie, who i’ve only met about 4 times. but i cried for my nan. i cried cos nan is one of 5 sisters and jessie was the first of them to go. nan is in her 80s and now lives in a nursing home. while she’s still all smiles she’s quickly fading and i’m missing her already.
the morning was beautiful. the funeral was very typical. there were prayers and stuff which didn’t mean anything… and they kept making everyone stand up for these bits which wasn’t fun for my nan and her sisters with their walking frames.
but the photo montage of nan and her sisters growing up… looking pretty and happy and lively and cheeky made me cry… sad and happy tears. happy for the silly times that mean so much… and sad that time is running out for this gang of 5 golden girls from the western suburbs. sad that occasions like these have become the only times they all get to see each other.
i sat behind nan... watching her shake from parkinsons. watching her share crumpled tissues with her sister nancy. watching her embroidered jacket that my auntie dressed her in for the occasion. watching her slowly turn to her sisters when a particular photo brought back a good memory.
i sat next to dad. he knew the words to some of the prayers off by heart which surprised me. must have been the sunday school he got sent to when he was little… which the rest of my uncles wagged (dad was the good kid). and a few of my uncles sat to dad’s right in their jeans and polar fleece tracksuit tops. and when nat king cole’s ‘unforgettable’ played their eyes welled up.
after the service we all went to jessie’s daughter’s house around the corner for morning tea… an elaborate spread of home made snot blocks (vanilla slices if you're uncouth) and curried egg sandwiches and bottomless cups of tea.
i found nan in the sun room with all the other old ladies. i told her about work (cos she likes to know what’s coming up on neighbours) and she squinted at me cos the sun was too bright.
it was here that i met my new friend, mrs charles.
sitting directly opposite nan, mrs charles had long whiskers and hardly any teeth. i said hello and she smiled brightly and said ‘who are you?’ spitting chunks of cake through the gaps in her teeth. i explained that i was ina’s granddaughter and she said she was mrs charles. she’d nearly finished her cake so i asked her if she’d like some more. she thrust her ear in my direction and told me she was deaf so i bent down closer and repeated my offer. she said ‘yes please… but not one of the gooey ones’ so i went to the kitchen and chose 4 cakes for her to choose from… brushing the cake off my face once i was out of the sun room.
she was happy with the cakes i brought back and insisted that i help her eat them… but i was already full and said they were to share with the other ladies. but i don’t think this got through as she ended up eating them all herself.
she asked again who i was and what i did, smiled widely, and said sorry for spitting cake on me again. then she pulled a tissue out of her sleeve to wipe my face. she had a good wipe and finally stopped when she realised my piercing wasn’t another crumb.
i said goodbye to nan and the ladies and left them with their cakes. i had to get back to work to get more neighbours goss for nan. unfortunately this didn’t impress mrs charles. she preferred home and away.
i've loved guns'n'roses ever since i was a little kid. i love the music. i love the band. and i love the man... AXL ROSE. so... he might be an egotistical wanker but my love for him is unconditional. the aiyeeyaiyeeeyaiii voice... the bandanna and bike shorts... the distinctive swaying moves... for me, he's the ultimate rock star.
my love for this band peaked in 1991 when the gunners' track YOU COULD BE MINE featured in TERMINATOR 2 JUDGMENT DAY.
those of you familiar with my blog will already know how important this film and arnold schwarzenegger were to me back then. i wanted to be a motorbike riding cyborg like arnie and i wanted to save the future. and the fact that the gunners' music video featured footage from the movie almost made me wet myself every time it came on rage. even though i don't believe in heaven... i reckon it'd have to be as cool as this:
which is why, as an 11-year-old tomboy, i was inspired to recreate the magic that is YOU COULD BE MINE by G'N'R'S at somers caravan park over the christmas holidays:
since then, my love for axl has not subsided. i even entered a drag king competition a few years ago and performed a cave man act to WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE... cutting up my great grandma's fur coat in the process to make a loin cloth.
i didn't win. it was more like weirdo tarzan performance art than a drag act and alienated the lesbians who wanted to see dildo-wearing, moustached dykes miming to emo tunes. but i belted my chest and ate bananas on stage.
and then, last year, axl toured under the name GUNS'N'ROSES even though it was him and a bunch of session musos playing old gunners tracks (cos none of the original band members like him these days). but i fuckin loved it.
my mate sparrow and i dressed up as flannel x acid wash clad cock-rockin bogans and got a spot right up the front... with all the other flannel x acid wash clad cock-rockin bogans who didn't seem to have the same sense of irony as us... but i'm from wantirna so can't really talk.
and we got crushed and had beer tipped on us and it was like being in heaven... if only arnie was there... but these days he's busy saving the future of california or something...
ever been in a gang? when i was little i was always in a gang. my friendship groups became gangs... and the name of the gang was generally a weirdo word made up of the first letters of our names... like J.J.A.M. now that's the shit.
and our gangs always had a base. in primary school our base was the SNOT SHIP... a wooden construction in the playground that we baggsed as our own and the other kids knew not to sit there or there'd be trouble.
my cousins and i were also a gang. a gang of little shits who used to steal kids balls and play 'keepings off' just for the fun of it. yup. we ruled the blacky south primary school oval on weekends... riding mini motorbikes full speed across the footy field and crashing into the metal fence cos we'd lose control showing off to the other kids... and then uncle terry would give us a hiding for being dickheads. suburban justice.
i'm now heading towards my late twenties and find myself about as happy as i was when i was 8 years old. which was a bloody sweet time. at my current age, i feel very similar to who i was when i was a little kid. i play, i take risks and i have a confidence in my gut that only kids have because they just do what feels right regardless of what anyone else thinks. i am once again a little shit. if only i knew i had it right back then.
my teens were spent wondering why it wasn't cool to play 40 / 40 at lunch time and trying to get used to the social ritual of kissing someone you didn't care too much about when you greeted them. and my early 20s were spent trying to be impressive. yawn.
but now... nearly 20 (post-little-shit) years later i have a GANG again and it's cowabunga cool. we're mainly a bunch of tomboys who like to ride bikes on the weekend, crash on each other's couches, dress up for parties like TUFF MUFF, punch each other (tough love) and just hang out. we've got each other's backs and there's a code of respect that just happened by itself. we talk about girls and try to figure them out... and when it all gets too much we kick the footy or go shopping for flannies. ok we're not THAT brain dead. tix moisturises and skillz knows how to screen print and sew. impressive on both fronts. and wheels knows more about history than my nanna. and i can.... ummmm... do stuff too.
the other saturday we went shopping for military gear for the tuff muff 'women in uniform' party. we met at aussie disposals around lunchtime and spent about an hour trying on camo gear and parading around the store like a bunch of excited lezzers.... for us, this was the equivalent of shopping for the school formal dress.
after purchasing our gear we walked back to my car to inspect my back tyre which i had a feeling might have been flat... well it looked pretty flat when tix and i got out of the car before going shopping. sure enough it was flat. THIS WAS A CHALLENGE FOR GANG.
skillz took the lead having a changed a few tyres in her time... whipping off my hubcaps (that sounds dirty but isn't) and getting the bald spare tyre out of my boot. wheels got her camera out and took pictures of the action. tix was the foreman and gave direction... and i was employed to unscrew the nuts which took brute strength (which is my skill apparently).
the following weekend we went to tuff muff. after having an awesome gang roast dinner at tix's place (where i was taught how to roast) the four of us got on the tram and headed to collingwood. cars tooted at us and people stared... and it was awesome... strength in numbers (especially with gay epilates on our shoulders...) lucky we weren't travelling to frankston. as soon as we got off the tram a bunch of drunk (i think) gay-lady-folk rushed at us like groupies and touched our outfits. they even tracked us down later that night. shit hey.
and best of all... (well there were better moments in the evening... for me this was pashing bob the builder at the request of some random punter in the toilet queue who wanted to take a picture of us)... we won the costume comp.
in australia that's the logies (according to richard wilkins) and that's where i was last sunday. well i wasn't actually inside... but i was doing funny logies things all day for work.
you see my day job occasionally requires me to follow actors around to create videos for the interweb.
work takes me to all sorts of places and i meet all sorts of people with all sorts of quirks...
like one time i was on a shoot with tara moss (international model, crime writer and unicef ambassador... as you can tell by the pic)
who was hosting this reality show pilot we were making... anyways, instead of going over the script tara spent most of the time telling me about martial arts and motorbikes. and i learnt that she prefers to be called T-BONE, rides a bike and is into kick boxing... and she didn't hesitate to show me her moves (wicked). so i'm on set with this like 7-foot-tall glamazon doing round house kicks above my head. i repeat... wicked.
back to the logies...
i spent sunday afternoon at caitlin stasey's house (she plays 'rachel' on neighbours - the school girl who is on with her teacher) filming her and matt werkmeister (who plays rachel's geeky kid-brother 'zeke') getting ready. it was caitlin's 18th birthday party on the saturday so matt had stayed over cos they're besties in real life. cute hey?
the story behind the shoot was that it was matt's first logies.... so i was trying to capture all the nerves and excitement of the experience.
i rocked up at 2pm and met caitlin's mum, dad, her boyfriend (a very sweet, skinny, pimply emo dude - i was expecting a jock so was pleasantly surprised) as well as matt's mum and a million other siblings and family members. wow... it was like we were getting ready for the school formal only shinier.
while i'd like to be able to tell you that the neighbours kids are obnoxious little turds (for the sake of a funny perez hilton-style blog) i can't. matt and caitlin are lovely, polite, down-to-earth teens. my best footage is of matt's mum repeatedly brushing white cat fur off the bum of his black suit pants with matt getting embarrassed and then narky cos she wouldn't stop. i was waiting for the hanky to come out so she could spit on it and wipe some vegemite off his face.
matt showed me how he did his hair with four different (but essential products) and caitlin didn't mind me filming the argument between her and her mum about who had put the camera down last... and once the camera was found... the mums and dads made them pose together so they could get some photos to show the grandparents.
FYI... the actors aren't allowed to bring plus ones to the logies so the getting ready part is a big deal for their folks who can only wave at their kids once they hit the red carpet.
oh yeah... this is matt and caitlin in case you're wondering:
anyways... once everyone was ready and free-of-cat-hair i jumped in the back seat of the family range rover next to rachel and zeke and we headed off to crown.
before the big extravaganza we were going to the network ten pre-logies party at 'tonic'. i'd arranged for matt to interview the other neighbours cast members as well as any other famous people who'd be prepared to talk about neighbours. like nat bass (who used to be on neighbours) and who looked much nicer in real life than she did on SYTYCD... what was with her eyes?
so we get to tonic and matt and caitlin are awesome and help me lug my camera gear and tripod inside. i let them do a bit of mingling then i grab matt so we can start harassing the famous people.
matt, who had never done anything like this before, was cute and nervous which worked well because it meant the famous people were nice and generous when talking to him. he asked some stupid questions... and managed to make imogen bailey look like a "complete bimbo" (her words not mine)...
(something about how hard she was intending to party later on)... but all in all he did a good job... and he handled the numerous, annoying dad-like comments about the fact that he was too young to drink (easy on the lemonade there kiddo) with maturity and good humour.
so after about half an hour's worth of interviewing... and many failed attempts at luring the neighbours new recruit erin mcnaught (you may know her as miss australia) away from the clutches of my company's CEO... it was time to face the red carpet.
the neighbours gang walked from tonic to crown (no limos this time as ten was doing this whole 'glamorously green' thing... lame considering it was a 2-minute walk) and i filmed them strutting their stuff... yelling out to matt that i'd make a copy of the footage for his mum and dad (who were terribly proud of their boy and disappointed they couldn't be there).
then when they got to the star-studded venue i waved goodbye like a proud parent, got in a taxi and went home to watch gladiators (which is the BEST show on tv)...
it's been over a week since my last entry. does it feel like i'm about to confess something? i've actually been recovering from the biggest come down ever after the anzac day long weekend. and it wasn't drug induced. well only a little bit. it was much more hard core... it was fun induced.
starting on the wednesday (yeah... i did work on thurs but weekend celebrations always start one day before they're supposed to... that's how you fit all the fun in) i'd been on a 5-day funfest... and now it's time to blog (or blag) all about it:
DAY 1 (WEDS) - EXTREME KARAOKE WITH MUM
i have discovered the best way (well... the only way) to connect with my mum.
it involves alcohol (a sneaky hip flask of gin is required), a dark karaoke bar and extreme skinhead/sharpie dance moves. me, mum, dad and my auntie ventured to the laundry in fitzroy for extreme karaoke (as well as a bunch of my favourite peeps... many of whom came along just to meet mum). this night had been planned for months. a trip to the city is a big deal for my folks. my dad and my auntie had even taken the following day of work because we all knew it was gonna be big. and it was.
mum brought the gin. i showed her the extensive list of songs (she was disappointed the rolling stones' track 'starfucker' wasn't on there). we picked stacks. zeppelin, gunners, madonna, sabbath, B52s... assigning our names and fake names against them on the list so the karaoke MC wouldn't get sick of us... well actually we knew the karaoke MC would get sick of us which is why we wrote down fake names.
dad (who doesn't drink) sat quietly and happily on the couch near the stage minding our bags and concealing mum's bottle of gin whenever bar staff were near... while mum and i bolted to the stage whenever the next song came up. and if it wasn't our song... we'd grab auntie nin and dance like skinheads with our knees knocking and fists clenched in true sharpie style (regardless of what era the song was from).
FYI... this has been something we've always done (mum taught me the moves for my first primary school disco)... like at christmas night, family reunions, nan's birthday... it doesn't matter... if there's dancing involved... we do it this way.
the highlight of my night (aside from watching mum totally lose herself in sabbath's 'paranoid') was our duet rendition of madonna's 'hanky panky' (as in... 'nothin like a good spanky'... at which point mum would spank my arse like they do in the music video). while i find it hard to relate to my mum over dinner or in any 'normal' situation... i am completely comfortable and proud to be drunk on stage with her singing and acting out a song that is probably inappropriate for a mother and daughter to perform together... suck it up;)
FYI... next extreme karaoke date is june 11. put that in your diary madge:
DAY 2 (THURS) - PUNK BANDS WITH CANNON
while i intended to have a quiet night... a text from cannon wonderful soon changed that. cannon was gonna check out a band at the tote so that was a good enough reason to leave the apartment and hang out with a good egg. and cannon is freaky cool (like... the last time i saw her was at rollerderby training when she fell and re-opened a chunky scab on her knee... so there was a fair bit of blood but she was cool and skated off.... then she comes back after a lap of the concrete and there's blood all over her face... and i'm like 'what the fuck?'... and i worked out she'd applied war paint using the blood from her knee).
i didn't know what bands were playing that night but turns out they were a bunch of old school punk and psychobilly bands (like 6 for 6 bucks or something) that cannon knew from way back. anyways, so the crowd was dirty and the real frickin deal (as in no blink 182 fans) and i thought they were fighting but really they were just dancing... and cannon fought/danced with her house mate and they tipped beer all over each other and then regretted the fact that they'd committed beer crime and reckoned they should've tipped it in each others mouths instead. i felt middle class.
DAYS 3-4 (FRI-SAT) - AK 47's FARM (LESBIAN DISNEYLAND)
so the next morning i felt totally knackered. it was the anzac day holiday but i got up pretty early cos it was time to head to lesbian disneyland. this meant a 4-hour drive to NSW en route to THE farm owned by none other than the enigmatic AK 47.
after 4 wicked hours of iPod magic i arrived at an RSL in the middle of nowhere and met up with licker-royalty and a pot of blonde (which is so not tough but is light on the carbs and tastes nice). from here we followed AK 47 down a thousand sandy, dirt roads (where i almost lost control because my blue mistubishi mirage couldn't handle the terrain at the speed we were traveling).
the next two days were pure fantasy but totally real. think quadbikes... no helmets... 60kms across paddocks filled with hundreds of cows and one sheep who thought it was a cow.
think firing bullets into the sky... only to have the gun spark unexpectedly (which is when AK 47 takes it off you and says it's time for the next activity).
think chainsawing down tall dead trees singlehandedly (after some instruction from the farm folk) like a lumberjack to get wood to make the biggest bonfire you've ever seen in your life.
think yabbying (not so extreme but good fun in a hunter/gatherer sense and very nice to eat i found out).
think numerous drunk, stoned attempts at jumping a boob-height metal fence without actually having to climb over it... and it DIDN'T even end in tears.
FYI... other things that were awesome but not extreme included making chocolate pudding (which involved wearing an apron), scrabble (which was killer cos i won thanks to a 50-point bonus for using all my 7 letters in 'RESTARTS'... the plural is slightly lame i will admit) and learning how to hold live yabbies (which actually was extreme because i shat myself whenever their nippers moved).
and just before leaving lesbian disneyland we made a plan to hold the coolest ever lesbian music festival there sometime down the track... and your ticket would let you ride the motorbikes but not use the chainsaws cos AK 47 reckons that'd be too dangerous.
DAY 5 (SUN) - JULIETTE "OFF CHOPS" LEWIS AND THE LICKS
this is an authentic camera phone pic. just so you know.
so i got back to melbs on the sunday night and after washing the farm off headed to the prince to see the one and only juliette lewis and her band the licks... with nit. to be honest, nit and i had never heard her music before but we were both massive fans of juliette from her role in natural born killers. we were there as starfuckers and were happy to admit it.
the crowd that night was really freaky. this tall, weird forrest gump type dude kept trying to hit on nit (in a gentle but creepy way) and he asked both of us separately if we were either french or italian... which we're not... and don't look it... or sound it??
anyways, when the very hot and very rock and very fucked-off-her-head juliette came on stage we moved away from forrest gump and pushed down the front (forrest did follow but we shook him eventually)... but it was really funny because the people up close to the stage were also totally fucked-off-their-heads. like... not in a happy/lovey kinda way... but in a shake your head and body around violently and keep lunging aggressively at juliette kinda way...
nit and i had to stand with our arms in a defensive position (my stance was learnt from basketball/karate and nit's was from her time as a shopping centre security guard) in order to prevent the drug pigs from breaking our noses with the back of their heads. full on. and then for a minute a couple of the drugs pigs fought each other and one of them got dragged away by someone.
but juliette didn't mind all this. she contorted her face in all sorts of aggressive but euphoric ways and lunged back at them in the crowd. she even crowd surfed and we all got to touch her clammy celebrity skin.
when juliette (who's eyes were really big and sometimes wayward) did a cover of acca dacca's 'dirty deeds' she brought the house down and the drug pigs shook their torsos from side to side as well as their heads. nit and i decided that we may as well do the same... at least this way if the rhythm was right we'd avoid a collision.
so i've just come out and am a little intimidated by the scene. remember we're reminiscing here.
(back then i was fresh meat so dyke clubs were a little too dykey for a girl who had only just realised why she got bored kissing intelligent, good looking, talented boys with good taste in music)
baby dyke. baby steps. so many steps.
so at a friend's party i meet this really hot lez couple who don't look like the girls with pool cues who scared me at the glassy. these girls are really cool and good looking and have asymmetrical hair and rockin clothes and piercings and killer tatts and like to talk about music that's not ani difranco. WOW.
i said NOT ani difranco... you've got enough fans. you don't need me anyways.
so we hit if off and i'm just rapt that i've met two confident gay girls who don't look like kd lang.
i said DON'T look like kd lang (mum reckons she is what lesbians look like)
so we're talking about bands and films and stuff and one of the girls (who seems to know a whole lot about lesbians and coming out and stuff) is paying me extra special attention because i'm wide eyed and am lapping up the "you-don't-have-to-look-gay-to-be-gay" spiel.
so here i am with my new hot-lezbo-couple friends who totally get my situation (nothing like bonding over a bit of internalised homophobia) and one of them has already entered my number in her phone and is really keen to hang out. awesome.
so anyways... over the next few weeks i do a lot of hanging out with that girl and am completely overwhelmed and smitten with all the attention i'm receiving... the text messages, the special 'moments' shared over the phone... the numerous offers to assist me with whatever i needed assistance with... and i do wonder what her girlfriend thinks about all this. it's dodgy. i'm not steering the ship but i'm not about to drop the anchor either. HELLO SAILOR.
soooo then one day... standing in the hall of my share house we talk in whispers... we stand close... we pash (at last) and it's hot... but it's not like it was never going to happen so i've already processed the guilt and have decided that my morals don't matter cos i was a teenager deprived (and oblivious to the hotness) of hot girl on girl action... so bring it. i have some hot catching up to do.
now let me cut to the getting busted part... which is why i'm telling you this story. the three of us (yes... me and the couple) head to a warehouse party and we're all pretty pissy. over the course of the night the girl (let's call her shane) keeps whispering suggestive things in my ear and touching me whenever her gf is out of sight. danger. hot. R-O-N-G. hot.
the plan was that i'd be crashing at their house (i'd ditched my car earlier in the night) so we'd all share a cab post party. which we did. when we arrive, shane's girlfriend retires early after a few music vids on rage. so this leaves me and shane on the couch... which was also my bed for the night...
so of course... the legs occasionally, coincidentally, more frequently brush against each other... the hand that was on your knee ever so slowly and slightly finds itself touching my knee. the gf is about 7 meters away in the bedroom. why does this make it hotter? dunno but it does. we kiss. we kiss in short passionate bursts listening for the sound of our third amigo. yikes. this is stupid. and we become less careful... caught up in the heat of it. and shane says 'follow me' and leads me (ever so quietly) to the garage out the back.
and we (ever so quietly) lift the roller door... and lower it once we're in.
and then shane says 'did you hear that?' and we both stop (breathing) and listen. beat beat beat beat beat beat beat (as in two THUMPING hearts). AND shane's girlfriend pulls up the garage door to see her girlfriend and that baby dyke... frozen, semi naked, up against the car. BUSTED. and she piffs something (i can't remember if it was house keys or a mobile phone) at shane... and yells something (i think the trauma of the ordeal has erased it from my memory) and then bolts off... and shane sprints off after her.
and i'm left standing outside their house contemplating my next move. i'm pissed. my car is here. if i leave i'm gutless. but they need to sort shit out. but i'm accountable. fuck.
so i go back inside to the couch which is my bed and lie down. and then sometime later the two of them come back and there's yelling and crying and pleas for forgiveness and i go to leave but i'm told to stay... so i stay on the couch and imagine i'm somewhere else as their world collapses around me.
and then later... after the yelling has stopped... shane comes over and cries and strokes my head and tells me that she loves her girlfriend.
and i leave at first light.
yup... so that's when i got busted. formative much?
i got busted big time once. well probably twice. the first time was when i was about 9 mucking around with my cousins when the police got us. we were at my uncle's house making our own fun... which sometimes meant antagonising people just to see what they'd do. but on this occasion we took it a bit too far and copped a hiding as a result.
my uncle lived next door to a park with a scout hall. we could hear 'olden days' music coming from the hall so went to investigate... and through the open front door saw a bunch of old people learning how to dance. at first the game was about spying on them without being seen... but then we started making animal noises and knocking on the door to get a reaction. when they told us to bugger off the game got even more fun.
FYI... me and my cousins all wanted to be macaulay culkin... most of the time our lives resembled home alone but occasionally we veered into the good son territory. this was one of those sundays.
our next move was slamming the heavy wooden door of the scout hall... followed by locking the door from the outside so the dancers couldn't escape. but the old people didn't seem to care about this and continued on with their dancing... and their lack of care meant that we needed to up the ante to make the game worthwhile.
sooo... we started throwing stones on the tin roof proving without a doubt that we were a bunch of little shits. this tactic got the desired reaction (the old people started threatening us) which meant that it was almost time to run... and run we did... especially when we heard the glass smash.
so the four of us bolted through the park back towards my uncle's house. at the end of his street we saw a police car crawling slowly past... so shit-scared, we sprinted inside the house and sat in the lounge room like a bunch of good churchy kids eager for someone to test them on their nine times table.
and that's when the police knocked at the door.
my uncle terry (the angry one) answered and the four of us were called to the front door... staring at the carpet as we dragged our feet. we were criminals. we thought we were going to jail.
the police explained what had happened and terry's veins started popping out of his head. he then called us a bunch of bloody dickheads and asked who had smashed the window. my two younger cousins pointed at little pete (who was about 7). so the police took down pete's details and said they'd be in touch with his dad big pete and drove away.
then the four of us were blasted by terry who whacked his two kids on the bum... and told pete and i not to think ourselves lucky as we'd be getting the same as soon as our dads arrived to pick us up... we all cried... we got busted.
the second time i got busted was just as fun and just as scary... but a little different. fast forward roughly 10 years and this (sub)urban tomboy has just come out... and so for a formative experience... it's pretty formative. more to come.
so if my cousin little pete is the closest thing i've got to a sibling... my best friend 'nit' must be an honorary cousin... and in my book that's pretty damn special.
nit and i have known each other since we were two... our friendship began when we crashed tricycles one day on the footpaths of wantirna (nit was a very pale kid... i used to think she was an albino... who was allergic to everything and lived about 2-minutes down the road in a house with an in-ground pool).
nit was also an only kid and a tomboy... so we immediately bonded over scabby knees, dirt bombs and beating the boys at everything...
while nit and i hit it off immediately... our parents didn't. i think her mum (a cultured and dutifully polite person) tried to make friends with my mum but changed her mind when a semi-naked, cigarette smoking, suburban 'blondie' answered the door with an aggressive HELLO (that translates to: 'who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?') after 10 or so minutes because she couldn't hear the knocking because the music was up so loud.
our dads would say hello if they bumped into each other walking the dogs... but that's about it.
nit and i spent nearly every day together when we were little. we both went to the same primary school and i'd always head over to her place after school.
(FYI... i spent a lot of time at other kids' houses. even before i'd started primary school i'd leave my house early in the morning and come back when it got dark... mum didn't like having me inside and i didn't like being inside... so when i got sick of the backyard i'd just go to a friend's house until 'it was time to go'... then i'd go to another friend's house and hang around until 'it was time to go'... and so on)
anyways, nit was a very busy child whose parents gave her a lot of extra-curricular activities... she either had piano lessons, elite tennis practice, swimming training, language classes... or some other thing that prodigious kids with 'encouraging' parents had to do. and while we were equally good at everything at school... nit's folks didn't really approve of her hanging out with the nomadic bogan kid from down the road with THAT mother.
one morning on the christmas holidays (before we were to commence grade 2) i went round to nit's house to play. her mum answered the door and said that anita couldn't play today because she was busy. disappointed, i said bye and left... but not before peeking over the gate to see if i could wave at nit. and i did see her... i saw her playing inside with the ridiculously tall, boringly well-mannered and well-spoken red head from school, louise harris.
feeling rejected, i went back home and sat in my cubby, staring at the latest new kids on the block poster torn from the back page of tv week... and that's when i did something that would almost wreck our friendship forever. i got out a clean piece of foolscap paper and a sharpened grey-lead... and in my best cursive script... wrote a hate letter to anita using the worst profanities and expletives that a nomadic, bogan, 7-year-old tomboy could come up with. i finished my letter... folded it in four... walked back to nit's house and put it in the letterbox.
later that afternoon nit's mum came over and belted at our front door. when mum eventually answered i could hear nit's mum yelling (but in a refined voice)... accusing mum of helping me write a despicable letter that had made her daughter very upset. mum said she didn't know anything about it (which was true)... so nit's mum kept waving the crumpled piece of paper under mum's nose pointing at f-words and c-words and other words that she reckoned a 7-year-old couldn't have come up with on their own.
when nit's mum eventually left mum came outside to chat. while she wouldn't encourage me to write obscene hate letters, she was aware that nit's mum had been interfering with our friendship and had a fair idea of why i'd reacted the way i did. i think she probably wished i'd addressed the letter to nit's mum and not to nit though...
from then on our mums were at war and as a result nit and i hated each other. we turned into fierce rivals at school... competing to be the BEST at cross-countries, poison ball, maths tests, bike-ed, spelling bees... you name it. nit hung out with louise harris... and i made friends with 'reidy' (the kid with the growing problem who stole kids' play lunches) and 'jenkins' (the only boy who could do the flip around the bar on the monkey bars).
this fight lasted for nearly 2 years... and it was really hard to maintain the hate when we had so much in common and shared the same basketball court at lunchtimes.
eventually we gave up competing and admitted that both our mums were mental. i apologised for being a psycho bogan and nit apologised for letting her mum pick her friends and for giving me the cold shoulder.
we've been friends ever since... and we will be forever.
FYI... both our parents still live in the same houses in the eastern suburbs. our mums still hate each other... even though they are polite when they bump into each other at the supermarket... and our dads still say hi if they see each other in the street... even though the dogs died a long time ago.
my cousin little pete is about the closest thing i've got to a sibling. he's called little pete because his dad is big pete. and it's not just to do with age. little pete is an incredibly pretty, pint-sized, twink who (when working at the peel) would jump on top of the bar and sexy dance whenever christina aguilera's 'dirrty' came on...
his dad on the other hand is the strongest and toughest of all my dad's brothers... like a cross between the terminator and crocodile dundee. i'll tell you why soon.
growing up pete and i were close... much closer than all the other cousins. and guess what? we both turned out gay... and while no one ever said anything when we were little... the writing was on the wall.
every saturday at nan's place pete would want to style my nan's hair and give her a makeover... i'd yell if he touched my knotted mane... as i rolled back and forth on a skateboard in nan's kitchen telling him to hurry up so we could go explore storm water drains. but he loved that stuff too... and there was always enough time to play all sorts of games (creek jumping, nick knocking, motorbike riding, taste testing, cubby house making, tree climbing, roof jumping, roof rocking, slip n sliding... the list goes on) so our weekends spent together were the coolest ever.
my uncle big pete is like an ocker cyborg. his body is made up of metal plates from a zillion motorbike racing accidents that have shattered his bones... and while he walks with a limp... he is inhumanly strong (apparently, it took 4-5 police officers to get him into a divvy van one afternoon after a plumbers' pub crawl that got out of hand... and he didn't start it... he just looks like he'd start something). but big pete is also your typical charming larrikin... english backpackers always want him to act out scenes from croc dundee... "you call that a knife?!"
and big pete, for all his toughness, was one of the best playmates a kid could have had. he'd take all us cousins down the creek where we'd make bike swings (same as rope swings except you tie a bmx on the end of the rope and ride off the bank of the creek)... and do other adventurous things that normal grown ups wouldn't let you do... most likely because they were either dangerous or illegal. and every adventure was always followed by a stop off at dairy bell on the way home...
(FYI... we either travelled on the back of big pete's motorbike or in the sidecar... or in the back of his panel van where we'd get him to do 'swervies' down nan's street so we'd all get chucked around). THE BEST.
even though they are complete opposites, it seems little pete has inherited big pete's invincibility. while big pete has lived through motorbike crashes, fist fights, a near broken neck (from a push bike accident... there was a low hanging branch) and wing chun blood baths (did i mention he did some strict, traditional form of kung fu for a while?)... little pete has survived 2 car crashes, a highly obsessive sugar daddy (on the scene), gay bashings as well as some of the hardest partying that a person could put their body through...
they're both totally awesome... and after a number of years of not speaking to each other... little pete has just moved in with his dad.
FYI... big pete is having a few months off work to recover from his most recent near death experience... i'll tell you quickly... he was riding his racer bike home from work after those crazy storms the other week and swerved to dodge a car that was double parked... then his tyre got stuck in a tram track and he flew over the handle bars and hit the ground... people rushed to help him but he said he was ok... got back on his bike and pedalled home.
when he got home his partner kym (a physio he met after a motorbike crash one time) said he didn't look too good and that he should go to hospital. he said he was ok but wanted to lie down... then when big pete went to move he collapsed so kym called an ambulance... so they get to emergency and pete gets checked out... turns out he's only got a broken pelvis and a dislocated collar bone.
i haven't told you much about mum yet because i don't know where to start.
i am going to tell you stuff... but not to make fun of her... and not just for my own catharsis... i'm going to tell you about mum because she is not from this earth... and you will see the universe in a different light as a result.
i'll start with 10 things you should know... not including the fact that she doesn't like wearing clothes at home... and that this used to be a point of interest amongst teenage boys when i was at high school... and well... she wouldn't let me or dad shut the curtains which meant that the neighbourhood knew quite a lot about our family.
10 random facts
#1 while most people request 'no msg' at a chinese restaurant... mum would specifically ask for extra msg to be sprinkled over her takeaway dim sims
#2 when mormons or jehovah's witnesses came to the door... mum would tell them that she was a satan worshipper
#3 whenever we went to the cinema mum would take a bag of potato chips and over the course of the movie would aggressively shake the foil chip bag around to make sure the salt was evenly distributed
#4 mum has an amazing singing voice and an incredible ability to paint and draw - however she has no interest in pursuing these talents... BUT she does break out into song when drunk... i.e. shirley bassey / led zeppelin / velvet underground... and will skinhead dance when the beat is right... and if the beat isn't right she'll harass whoever is in control of the music until they get it right
#5 mum has an obsession with thunderstorms... she and dad holiday at surfers paradise every year and stay on the top floor of the same hotel so mum can watch storms coming in from the sea
#6 mum wooed my dad by sitting on his desk every lunchtime when they both worked for the public service... she hasn't worked since they got married 28 years ago
#7 while we had a fully functioning kitchen and laundry at home they weren't to be used... instead we ate takeaway or would have barbecues... and all washing was done at the laundromat (save your questions til later)
#8 mum is a huge fan of i love lucy and would record old black and white episodes played in the morning on channel 31 to watch during prime time every evening
#9 mum would tuck the dog into bed every night (FYI... the dog was a hairy border collie x kelpie x blue heeler x cocker spaniel)... the dog's bed was in the garage outside... tucking in also involved hand feeding it water and singing the special 'close those puppy eyes' nigh nigh song
#10 although that photo was taken in the '80s... mum pretty much still looks the same... she is very, very tall and this is one of her modeling shots
apparently this is true. while most people are said to have doppelgangers... i have a soundalike. and it happens to be the logie winning, dancing with the stars conquering wife of lleyton hewitt. lucky me...
this isn't one of those things that a mate said to take the piss... or even a comment made by a random one night while they were off chops. i've actually been told this by about 5 different people who have never met.
the first one was the lovely neighbours casting assistant, clare, who deals with aspiring starlets on a daily basis. she knows what soap stars sound like.
when she said it to me in the kitchen everyone agreed. and they even got me to say stuff just to make sure. and when i said 'i do not sound like bec cartwright' they all nodded at each other and said 'oh yes, yes... she does, doesn't she?'
another person who said this was the lady who works in the deli at safeway on smith street. while i was ordering olives one day she said 'do you know who you sound like?'... and i said 'who?' (thinking she was going to say bec cartwright)... and she said 'that sweet little blonde girl from home and away' and i said 'bec cartwright' and she said 'yes'...... FOR SHIZ.
and then one day when i was at home a current affair came on and bec and lleyton were being interviewed about their marriage or something... and that's when i heard it. i heard that high-pitched, childlike, fast-talking squeak.... and i shuddered. that's what i sound like.
i'm not too sure what i'll do with this skill yet... not that it's a skill... more like a tragic coincidence. but it might have something to do with a call to commercial radio and an announcement of some sort. any ideas?
aside from the voice, bec and i do have something in common. we both write poems. my poems are more like song lyrics about climbing trees... or when i'm feeling a little more punk... lesbian sex beats. but bec is a true romantic and writes stuff like this:
Bec's poem
I really don't know where to start but I definitely know you've captured my heart, It started that night you called me up, to see if I'd play in the Starlight Cup Way back then, little did we know, That our love for one another could grow and grow, A text message or two is what kept us in touch And I want you to know that I love you so much
It wasn't'til late in 2004 That I received another phone call When we decided to meet, we went up the street for something to eat, From that day on I've been by your side And look at me now, I am here as your bride! I used to wish upon a star that I'd meet the perfect husband - and here you are!
You're an inspiration to so many including me, Anyone who's ever met you can count themselves lucky, I'm so lucky I've found the one, Being with you I have nothing but fun, You are my best friend and my dream come true And I'm so glad to be sharing all this with you
This is only the start of our dream together, But I promise to love you until forever I can't wait to start my life with you, Just being together, our dreams will come true I have no doubt I'm glad to be your wife, And being with me is now a part of your life I admire you for so many reasons, I mean look at what happened at the Four Seasons!
We're about to experience the miracle of life, but always remember I'm so proud to be your wife, Having a family with you makes me so glad, I know I'll never get sad, Thanks so much for choosing me, By sticking together we'll make a great family
Engaged and then married and now one on the way, I'll take such good care of you every day, It's safe to say I'll love you more and more And marrying you today, I couldn't be more sure. Rebecca Hewitt! I'm your wife! I promise you one thing, stick with me and you'll have a bloody good life!
i was reciting that as you were reading it (with a natural emphasis that occurs wherever you see an exclamation mark - uncanny!)... just like bec would have read it out to lleyton on their wedding day. perhaps i will write a sequel to this poem and send lleyton a podcast... (when i'm feeling punk).
anyways, here's bec... perhaps watch 5 seconds of this if you can bare it. the kids are looking at pics of graffiti... uh oh here comes trouble:
some kids might have called me one when i was younger. i wasn't so much a bully but more the 'go to' person if someone was doing you wrong in the playground and the problem needed fixing. debra copped it this way. she'd been teasing my second-best-friend janice and i was called upon 'to get her'. so after school as debra was walking across the quadrangle i whacked her over the head with my wantirna heights primary school school bag.
in most cases this would have been the end of it... but in this instance, her mum was waiting to pick her up from school and saw the whole thing happen. when her mum yelled out i took flight and bolted in the opposite direction... and she took off after me. i knew that quadrangle like the back of my hand due to daily blood-sport bouts of 40/40 so there was no chance she was going to catch me on my own turf. i ducked and weaved through the bushes and adventure playground like a wet jack russell that'd managed to escape its bath.
but while i escaped debra's mum... i didn't escape the principal's office the next day. but what was funny is that the principal understood why i'd done it and didn't even call my mum. it seems that debra's nastiness wasn't only directed at janice... and at wantirna heights primary it was ok to take the law into your own hands.
fast forward 5 years later to wantirna high and once again i find myself needing to protect janice's honour. this time we're putting our books away in the year 9 locker bay and maria (head of the home girls) pushes janice head first into her locker as she's walking past (all because they were both in love with the head home boy). i see this happen and slam maria back into the lockers on the other side... and then there's this big stand off between MARIA - HEAD OF THE HOME GIRLS and ME - YEAR 9C FORM CAPTAIN.
at this point i'm not sure what to do... maria calls her homies over and keeps saying "that fuckin scrubber just hit me" and i try to defuse the situation by mocking her and tapping my chest like the 'real' home girls do in american movies. luckily the bell rings so it ends with an aggressive shoulder bump as we both head to our respective classes. hard core wanny style;)
so yes... i was never really a starter of fights... nor would i feel the need to fight if someone teased me... but it seemed i had no hesitation to take someone down if they messed with someone i cared about. bully? a bit... tonka tough? my first instinct would be to run;)
it is true that as a kid i was obsessed with action and martial arts movies. i did my year 8 english assignment on van damme (the only reason i was allowed to was because miss dight thought he was a spunk) and i turned my backyard cubby house into an arnold schwarzenegger shrine. at the time i thought i had a crush on him but i figured out later that i just wanted to be him:
fast forward another 5 years and my ability to fight got a little more sophisticated when i took up karate. but after 3 or so years of that i got sick of the kata (detailed patterns of movements, like trying to learn a dance... which i suck at despite my talented friend renegade's expert tutelage) and just wanted to focus on the kumite (sparring)... which is why i now box!!
there's something totally addictive about training with stinky, hairy, sweaty men 3 times a week... a certain kinda loyalty and respect that reminds me of spending time with my dad and uncles at football and motorbike meets as a kid. i'm not the only girl at the boxing club but i think we all get off on the no bullshit, grueling slog of group training at our rundown 'rocky' style gym... it's all about instinct and determination and not wanting to slack off while everyone else is busting their arses. and the pain is real... there's a bit of that fight club masochism for sure.
it's funny... wheels and i have started our own fight club recently. we're not dickheads and would never get involved in a glassy brawl (a dyke bar) or anything... but we've started punching each other (mostly when we get drunk) in a playful but not-so-soft kinda way. i'm sure someone would put it down to the same reason people peel the labels off bottles of coopers... but we're buddies and it's a good way to let off steam!
the whole sex / fighting analogy is an interesting one though. and i don't mean that in a creepy way. i reckon it's true that both are about instinct and body language and timing and interpretation... less head more heart... intuition over tricks... haha... i'm crapping on... we've all got tricks.
i used to have a big crush on the veronicas. actually... it probably wasn't a REAL crush but more something i did to antagonise my ex-girlfriend. whenever they came on video hits i'd run to the tv and sit as close as i could to it and say 'VERONICA!' with my eyes wide open and a ridiculous smile on my face. it made my ex shake her head but then laugh (as i read over this i can see it's probably not an anecdote i should be sharing... ah... too late now weirdos).
but i was into that emo look for a while and one of them has tattoos... (you sometimes get confused... like with avril).
anyways, i'm lucky enough to work in a job where i get to meet famous people. i've worked in tv for nearly 7 years and at the moment i'm involved in a show that has just started having guest appearances by bands and pop stars. when i heard we'd be featuring 'veronica' i got very excited and even more intrigued by all that weird incest / pseudo lez stuff... time to see it with my own eyes.
lisa was the first on set and my initial reaction was that she was too small to be real. i mean... all the people you see on telly are smaller in real life but veronica #1 was like a tiny little doll that had the head of a much larger doll - like when kids disassemble their toys and put them back the wrong way. she looked like something my nan would have put on the top shelf so i couldn't break it... for the second time.
then jess (veronica #2) came in and she looked even more fragile. FYI... the twins don't look identical in real life but they do hold hands a lot. i mean a lot. and jess agrees with lisa a lot. and they don't laugh at jokes... or at least my attempt at a joke... but i think they were more focused on the task at hand... but i had less of a crush as a result.
anyways... we did the introductions and i was careful not to crush anyone's fingers in the process. they were polite and professional (with mum standing by at all times) and talked like street savvy teenagers who had already pretty much conquered the L.A. party scene... because they had.
the highlight of my day (aside from getting my picture taken in between the two of them - like a giant being hugged by a pair of emo thumbelinas ) was overhearing a comment made by lisa after we'd done a take of them performing their single 'this love'.
as i mentioned... they hold hands a lot (on and off camera) but even more so in this performance because of the lyrics:
You took my hand You told me it would be ok I trusted you to hold my heart Now fate is pulling me away, from you
when the assistant director called cut... lisa said to jess, "we shouldn't hold hands so much... it looks really gay..." and THAT was my special moment.
so it was ace to meet 'veronica' but i am over my crush. well at least in the real life sense. they look human-sized on telly and i bet they'd laugh at my joke on telly.
i've been warned by friends that i'll have the same reaction when i meet missy higgins. doubt it. missy and i will get married and live happily-ever-after. even if she is ridiculously little in person. hello missy...
FYI (tangent time)... i wrote a song about missy a while ago. it sounds a bit like 'pump up the jam'. i'll play it for you sometime. but for now you can read the lyrics and think about 'pump up the jam' and visualise my bad '80s dance moves.
and i think i'll leave you with this tonight because i'm forgetting to eat with all this blogging. time for some tofu (cos i'm told that's one of the things lesbians eat).
MISSSSSSY
Missy stop teasing me Relieve my curiosity Oh ba-by do you prefer A piece of him or a piece of her?
Missy stop teasing me Your secret's safe with me baby You've given me a scar hot stuff Get over here and let's talk muff
Miss Missy - Uh - Do you have a girlfriend? Missy - Uh - Do you wanna be mine? Miss Missy - Uh - There's a whole lotta ladies Missy - Uh - Who think you're fine x2
Missy stop teasing me I wanna know if you're family You're so damn hot I've got a blister Let's work it girl, sister to sister
Missy stop teasing me Stop being such a mystery C'mon Miss are you a lez? Cos that's what all of Northcote says
Miss Missy - Uh - Do you have a girlfriend? Missy - Uh - Do you wanna be mine? Miss Missy - Uh - There's a whole lotta ladies Missy - Uh - Who think you're fine x2
Missy stop teasing me You and I are meant to be Your casual, earthy, folk pop ways Does crazy things to all us gays
Missy stop teasing me Your words are just like poetry Each simple verse keeps me guessing So why don't you start confessing?
Miss Missy - Uh - Do you have a girlfriend? Missy - Uh - Do you wanna be mine? Miss Missy - Uh - There's a whole lotta ladies Missy - Uh - Who think you're fine x2
Miss Missy - Uh - Come to the party Missy - Uh - Cos you want to Miss Missy - Uh - And we can be Missy - Uh - The special two
Miss Missy - Uh - You foolin me? Missy - Uh - To sell CDs? Miss Missy - Uh - Well it's workin baby Missy - Uh - I'm on my knees
i was (pretty much) a good kid. aside from whacking debra over the head with my school bag (it was justified) and locking those old people in the scout hall (that one's for another time)... i've always had good grades and i've always visited my grandparents.
a lot of the time while growing up it felt like i was the adult and mum was the obnoxious teen. when i was at high school studying for exams mum would play zeppelin and sabbath albums at full volume until until about 1:30am... despite me saying that i couldn't memorise the periodic table with 'black dog' blaring out of the stereo. anyways, as a result of this i have a very high tolerance for noise and i can actually concentrate better (and even sleep soundly) in loud, chaotic environments...
it seems my neighbours can't.
i am now the obnoxious teen my mum was when i was 16. in the past couple weeks i've been on a few benders with my playmates that have resulted in early morning jam sessions in my fitzroy apartment (please refer to picture for offending instruments).
the first one was on easter saturday. i'd been to see my friend's comedy festival show 'gay conversion school drop out' and we had post-show drinks until about 3am in the morn... at this point i hit the wall so left trades hall bar and staggered home to fitzroy. on my walk home i bumped into my rollerderby pal 'cannon wonderful' who was rollerskating on the wrong side of the road up brunswick street. i was pissed. cannon was pissed. and we couldn't believe this chance encounter at 3:15am on a saturday night. there was a moment of "isss tha really yooooou?" or am i just muntedness...
turns out cannon had been at a party and had missed the last tram back to st kilda so she was attempting to rollerskate all the way home. even in my drunk state i knew this was a stupid and dangerous idea... it would have taken a fit, sober person at least an hour-and-a-half in daylight i reckon.
anyways... i said she should crash on my couch so we headed back to mine which was pretty close... after contemplating going back to the party which she'd come from. but i was over people and beer.
so cannon skates up the stairs to the 1st floor lift in my building (doing a few spinning tricks as she goes) and we head to my bachelor pad which is a drunk musician's utopia. we get inside and cannon heads straight for the drum kit (with skates still on) and i turn on the marshall valve amp and plug in my beloved bo diddley rectangular guitar.
it was a hot night so i opened the doors to the balcony and we busted out our own interpretation of the joy division classic 'dead souls'. at this stage it was 4am and we were killin it homos.
about 15-minutes into our extended rendition i could hear noises coming from outside and it was my neighbour on the left-hand-side leaning over the balcony shouting out HELLO. i didn't really know my neighbours (at this stage) so i went out to say hey. anyways, she was really, really cool and said that she really liked the music but couldn't sleep... so i said something in a happy drunk voice and shut the doors... then cannon and i continued to play... this time, some original noise-art psychedelic soundscape. we eventually got bored and tired and went to sleep.
i had an easter sunday date with my nursing-home-nan at the pancake parlour the next day so left fitzroy for the burbs pretty early. when i got home in the arvo there was a knock at the door and it was my neighbour from the right-hand-side. he politely said that he was woken up last night because it sounded like there was a band rehearsing??? i apologised and said it wouldn't happen again.
i lied.
four days later on the wednesday night i went to extreme karaoke with my favourite little biker cherub 'wheels' where our posse busted out the best gunners, split enz and kinks renditions this side of the yarra. anyways, wheels was crashing at mine to avoid a long trip home and in our midweek crazy, drunken state (fueled by respective girl troubles) we thought it was the perfect time for a jam. i jumped on the kit, wheels picked up the geeetar and we played our best heart-wrenching-folk-punk originals. did i mention it was about 3:30am on a school night?
after a short nap it was time for work and we both did our best to get to our respective employers in one piece (FYI... upon leaving my carpark wheels rode the wrong way down a one-way street and got tooted at by the people who don't think rules are meant to be broken).
at work that afternoon i received an email from my body corporate referring me to the resident and good neighbour guide - specifically point 53a (i) on noise pollution and being respectful of my fellow apartment dwellers. pasted below it was an email from my neighbour (on the right-hand-side) threatening to call the police if it happened again (apparently he'd knocked on the door on both occasions... but i didn't hear it).
so i sent a sorry email for the body corporate to forward onto my neighbour and said that i was going to bake a cake (very quietly) to make up for it. and i haven't been noisy (in the a.m.) since... well not yet.
i can be a good kid... pretty much.
man... if i was my neighbours i'd just tell me to shut the fuck up. but now as punishment one of my neighbours keeps having loud sex. i don't know if it's coming from the apartments either side of me or from upstairs. i might email the body corporate or threaten to call the police... or just tell them to shut the fuck up.
i got me a new racer bike. well it's an old fluoro racer bike that came to me in bits and my ace dad put it back together. so now it's my new bike. dad has since bought me tools so i am less lame on this front. but i like giving him projects.
so today (being sunday) me and some of the crew from friday are jumping on our bikes and heading nowhere in particular. we punished our bodies at blonde and now it's time to be wholesome and make up for it.
when i was little bike riding was an everyday activity and at one point i thought that grown up girls must get sick of bikes or forget how to ride them. you see my mum was unco at anything mildly sporty and wouldn't even try... and as far as hanging out with grown ups, i only really saw my uncles riding bikes... push bikes, motor bikes, side-car bikes, tandem bikes... there were always lots of bikes... and most of them were in bits.
(FYI... i have a million uncles. dad is the eldest of 8 kids (7 boys / 1 girl) and they are all bikers / tradies (except dad)... he is the black sheep... or whatever the opposite of that is. they are some of the toughest but nicest folks you will meet)
i remember the first time i realised that my dad was just as tough... even though he doesn't look or sound much likes his brothers... i was about 10 or something and dad and i hopped on our bikes to head down to the creek where there was a grouse bike track. we did this nearly every weekend. so we were riding along beside the creek (me in front as always with a bright orange stack hat) and these two teenage boys on bmx bikes were heading towards us.
anyways, one of the boys did a slag as he approached us and it landed on my arm. i made some grossed out noise and dad saw what happened and with one fell swoop he lifted this boy off his bike the moment we were about to whoosh past each other... and because i was setting the pace we were riding pretty fast. the boy's friend skidded to a stop and the boy who slagged just looked terrified as his bike crashed to the ground. somehow dad had managed to stay on his bike and stop while restraining the slagger. i just stopped and looked (at the boy and at the slag) wondering what was going to happen next.
then dad said "i think you should apologise to my daughter". and the boy did. and dad got out his hanky and wiped the slag off my arm. and then it was all ok. he let the boys go and we continued to ride along the bike track heading nowhere in particular.
ok... this is the first entry so i really should intro you to the folks who make up my world but i've gotta get something off my chest. i'm feeling uber trashy today after 4-hours sleep and a night of partying at blonde on the rocks. for those of you who aren't down with melbourne's ya-ya sisterhood... blonde is one of melbourne's monthly lady-lover parties (definitely not my fave... generally boring housey music / pretty conservative southside type dykes / the inescapable waft of hair product / occasional burlesque act, etc.)... but that's where the crew was at.
anyways, somehow (i can't really remember how or why... actually i do know how and why) i found myself pashing on with this girl who looked like the cougar girl... you know, the blonde/booby one from the ad? i know a bunch of folks would think H-O-T but that's so not my style. i go for indie girls, arty girls, pretty/tough girls, sarcastic/smart/smart-arse girls... not COUGAR girls! not blonde straight-boy fantasy girls with fishnets and miniskirts and cleavage and... and so we made-out and groped in public and against a wall (classy) and in the little dark corridor that connects the dance floor to the smoking bit. t-r-a-s-h-b-a-g. one minute i'm talking to my mates and the next minute i'm sucking face with a girl whose name i mucked up three times (abby/gabby/jabby?)... and i said sorry and then she pulled me in for the tongue pash. and so i went with the flow... on the dancefloor... with the blonde at blonde on the rocks.
and so kissing is fun and that's all i was up for but she wanted to go home (as in not alone) and i just wanted to hang with my homos and then i felt uncomfortable and wanted to rewind... and then i snuck away and found my friends in the smoking area and was so relieved... but then cougar found me again and pounced.
thankfully my mates did some good sheparding (FYI... there was also footy playing on a tv out the back) and i felt a little safer. but then when we were all leaving she wanted to come and i said very clearly and politely "i just want to hang out with my mates" but she didn't listen. she just clawed me and followed us to the next bar!!! at this point i was not at my party-peak and wanted to go home but i was afraid she'd follow. thankfully my awesome buddies did the fake girlfriend trick and put their arms around me... but i think she called their bluff because i couldn't have that many girlfriends.
anyways... it is now 4:39pm on saturday and i have to head to my nan's retirement village for dinner. it's in box hill and they eat early.
if you're wondering... i did escape... with a good buddy and a good debrief. but it wasn't easy.
(sub)urban tomboy co-hosted 'hungry beast' on the abc, likes boxing and occasionally performs electro-punk ditties as 'the kill room'... now... but earlier... she grew up in the suburbs making rope swings with her cousins while trying to make sense of her ott/ocd, patsy x peggy bundy inspired mum... it's still a work in progress...
when i was about 7-years-old i got sent to the johnny young talent school. this doesn't mean i was on the tv show... although all the kids who went to the school had that little carrot dangled in front of their noses so the stage mums and dads kept forking out the cash for weekly singing and dancing lessons.
