Tag: Tv week
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Newtown icon.
Most evenings on King St Newtown, this guy can be found riding his mobility scooter up and down the footpath. What gives him the edge is his scooter is pimped with an Elvis statue, and a pretty fierce sound system. I have to say, his playlist never fails to impress me, from Johnny Cash, all the way through to Rockin’ Robin.
Long may he scoot.
Footage can be viewed HERE
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Nesting.
Something spooky is going on, I’m nesting!. I’ve cleaned and sorted my office, I assembled a glass cabinet, I just framed my own painting, the house has been cleaned and bleached within an inch of it’s life, i’ve rearranged the pot plants . . I wonder what it all means??, I’m terrified I might be turning strait*!!??
* Of course not that there is anything wrong with that.
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Stan Smith.
Tonight I premièred my vintage Stan Smiths in Wollongong, I’m still not sure this place deserves fashion of this calibre, but it seems to be making an effort, so I extended the fashion hand of friendship.
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Cat call.
There is a cat outside my window, it’s one of those creepy bastard talking ones, it’s not meowing, but totally sounds like it’s trying to speak to me.
That weird noise cats make when they want ‘relations’ . . ‘Ullooooooooo, myoooooooo oooooooow ulloooooooooooo nyoooooooow!!!!!!’.
It sounds confused, like it’s had a stroke. I’m helping it all I can by leaning out the window and trying to interpret it’s frustrated messages, “Yes, you want a root, I’m familiar with your tone, but there are no presenting pussycats here, try over the back fence where the crazy cat lady lives“.
Update:It didn’t go to the crazy cat ladies place, her sons had taken a gut full of pingers and were dancing dementedly around the back yard, the cat did however shut up after we ‘shooshed’ it, we were straining to hear what the hot, drug crazed guys were saying, without the added distraction of cacophonous wailing from a root crazed cat!.
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No, just . . no!!.
If i could find anyone willing to admit going to see Farnham on one of his farewell tours i’d organise a class action for a mass refund for false advertising 🙂
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Can we talk?.
RIP Joan Rivers, she was one of my political correctness safety valves. When something awful would happen, and it felt like I couldn’t even smile, along would come Joan with something so crass, so offensive and jarring, it would give me a jolt, and i would have a sense that I would laugh again.
So glad I got to see Joan with my filth sister Beryl, it was fantastic to pay homage, and squirm in my seat before the wonderful Joan.
Some of the first words my little nieces and nephews spoke (as taught by me) were, ‘Oh grow up!, just grow up!!’ and my favorite ‘Oh Arf Arf!!’. They could have had an uncle that taught them the ABC’s, but where would they be now?.
“I’ve had so much plastic surgery when I die they will donate my body to Tupperware”.
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I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN I WAS GAY WHEN . .
No grey area with me, I’ve always been gay, from day one. I may not have known what it was called, but gay it was. From almost as young as I can remember, I had THE biggest crush on Australian Tv star Eric Oldfield. ‘If’ there was ever any questioning on my part, the day I saw Eric Oldfield in the nude, stapled across CLEO magazines centrefold, all questions were rendered null and void.
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WEIRDY CAROLINE:
Working on some Kennedy pics in photoshop recently, i had a photo of a young Caroline Kennedy open on one screen, and a more recent photo of her in another screen. I had to pull one photo down, and when i did the old and the young Carolines met, and weirdly matched. I love bizarro mistakes 🙂
