karaoke, punk, guns n' drugs

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.

LEST WE FORGET these 5 days of fun...

busted - part 2

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.

lips collide. hands clutch. clothing falls. bodies click.... EARS LISTEN.

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?

they make tv shows about this stuff:

busted - part 1

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.

i hate your fu*kin guts

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.

nit, i think this sums it up:

queer kids in the kitchen

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.

petes... this one's for you both:

my mum's a nudist

among other things...

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

i think that's enough for now...

i sound like bec cartwright (hewitt)

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: