i like cookies and milk

the following is an excerpt from a book by robert fulghum called 'all i really need to know i learned in kindergarten'. fulhghum believes that if people apply this list to their daily adult lives, theirs will be a balanced and happy existence, and the world will be a better place. this is the list:

- share everything.

- play fair.

- don't hit people.

- put things back where you found them.

- clean up your own mess.

- don't take things that aren't yours.

- say sorry when you hurt somebody.

- wash your hands before you eat.

- flush.

- warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

- live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.

- take a nap every afternoon.

- when you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.

- be aware of wonder. remember the little seed in the styrofoam cup: the root goes down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

- goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the styrofoam cup - they all die. so do we.

- and then remember the dick-and-jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.

indeed. i'd also like to add 'be good to your mummy', 'everyone is equal in the sandpit', and 'barbie is an unrealistic portrayal of a woman's body'.

matchmaker, matchmaker

for reasons undisclosed i have decided that i must be married by december. i'm talking the whole shebang: barbie, ken, drunk rabbi, horny bridesmaids, corny love songs, schmaltzy photos, painful speeches, etc.

the major problem with this endeavor is a dire lack of potential husbands. yet somehow i have convinced myself that despite my perennial singledom, i will have no problems finding some poor schmuck desperate enough to pledge eternal love and commitment to me by december.

i am, however, taking a very casual approach to the "eternal love and commitment" thing. as this will be a marriage of (my) convenience, the usual emphasis placed on monogamy and intimacy will be eschewed in lieu of providing my family with something to celebrate for once.

the following is a list of those qualities i have deemed imperative for the selection of the groom:

- male

- jewish (or at least willing to tell my mother and rabbi he is - circumcision optional)

- available in december

so if you fit this description, or know someone who does, and are willing to pretend you love me for a few years (i promise to have you divorced by 2007), lets make it happen.

tidbits

things i thought of first but will never get credit for:


- liquid bandaids

- atms

- sliced bread*

- orlando bloom


*in my past life as otto rohwedder .

when a hero comes along

as i said in a previous entry, the job of 'my personal hero' is one that has a very high turnover rate. just when i think i've permanently filled the position, that maybe its time to withdraw the ad from the personals column, someone comes along who for one reason or another seems more qualified than the last. and so it goes.

today my hero is ryan hreljac. a 13 year old boy from canada who has raised over $800,000 to supply clean water to the African nations of uganda, zimbabwe, kenya, malawi, tanzania and nigeria.

at the age of 6 ryan decided to raise $70 by doing extra chores, to build a well for a community in uganda after his teacher spoke to his class about how some children in the world don't have clean water. upon realisation that this amount just wouldn't cut it, ryan determined to raise the $2,000 it was estimated he would need. by the age of 9 he had single-handedly raised over $70,000, and had visited the angolo public school, uganda, the site of his first well.

ryan's mission is to supply clean water to the people of the world, and to inspire others to work hard to make the world a better place. i am truly inspired.

mirror, mirror

no, i haven't become part of the worldwide reflection craze sweeping the webosphere. although i do think its tres chic, and wish i had a digital camera so i could photograph myself in the glimmering reflection of bald men's heads.

no no, this post is about my discovery of why g-d invented reflective surfaces. or rather, for whom she invented them.

last night in dance class, as we were shakin' our thangs to the sounds of the neptunes, i couldn't take my eyes of this one girl. and neither could she. in fact, i don't think she stopped pouting at herself in the mirror once for the entire duration of the class. thats a good hour and 45 minutes of intense vanity.

sure she had the body of an olsen twin (in their 'full house' days), peroxide blonde hair and an orange-hued epidermis, which i believe qualifies her as "beautiful" by today's standards*. and i'll admit that the girl sure could move, but if she inched any closer to the mirror, i think she would have entered a parallel universe.

i have therefore reached the conclusion that g-d invented mirrors so this emaciated prima-donna could ogle herself during dance classes. but she better watch out cause next week i'm going to class armed with a cheeseburger, blindfold, and a copy of carly simon's "you're so vain".

*i'm predicting future rants on this very topic.

bag lady

so i got a call from the head of leather design at louis vuitton today. she explained that the fashion house is determined to make sure that the international fervour caused by their murakami handbag range does not fade into the abyss of couture fads gone by (like the bubble skirt and tie-dye).

"but how can i help?" i asked the nice designer lady.

"well, we'd like to patent the bags under your eyes and use them as the inspiration for our next range." said she.

so fashionistas, look out for the la nadstown range of bags from louis vuitton. they're huge, purple, and worn best with chewed lips and panda eyes.

i heart merlin

this can be considered as my personal standing ovation (though i am neither standing nor clapping) to merlin luck. this big brother evictee turned political activist, is the current holder of the prestigious yet transient title of 'my personal hero'.

for those of you living in a bubble (or perhaps in japan) young merlin used his eviction night as a platform for staging his own protest against the abominable mandatory detention policies of the federal government. merlin retrieved a banner hidden in his tshirt stating 'FREE TH REFUGEES' (apparently the 'e' fell off), taped his mouth shut, and refused to speak for the remainder of the show. this resulted in loud jeering from the audience of imbeciles that sat before him, and also in schoolteacher-like condemnation from the show's inane host gretel killeen who labelled his silent protest as an "aggressive act".

the public can argue all they want over semantics (i.e. merlin's use of the term 'refugee') and whether or not a non-citizen has the right to political commentary. but while they are doing that, i am building a shrine to merlin (over that of my last hero), who has inspired me to drop the complacent act and get active once again. and who valiantly tried to give the makers and viewers of big stupid brother a reality check about what's really important in this world.

bring back trashy goodness

the other night i was supposed to go out for a boogie, but for some unknown reason i was compelled to stay at home and catch up with my couch. i've kinda neglected him lately. and so we had a cuppa tea together and discussed who he's been sleeping with lately. its sad, but i think my couch may have a more exciting existence/sex life than i do.

at about 10.30pm, a voice spoke to me from the heavens/television and revealed what cosmic forces had kept me from leaving the house that night: "and coming up next on channel 7, buffy the vampire slayer, the film that started it all".

i did a mental jig of glee. i thanked the gods/tv programmers for granting me this little slice of happiness in my otherwise joyless existence. and i once again felt love for the box.

because, although far inferior to the television series it spawned - the gosh darn best television series ever created, EVAR - this movie reminded me why i used to be able to spend endless hours on the couch staring at a big black box in the middle of my lounge room (and it stars luke perry. he's such a spunk rat). shows like the wonder years, degrassi, family ties, growing pains, who's the boss?, beverly hills 90210, the simpsons, party of five, melrose place, buffy, wildside, seinfeld, mad about you and other gems had me enraptured.

but what is there now? reality tv, reality tv, diy, competitions, and more reality tv. granted, i cried when paradise hotel ended (as i did when young talent time was axed in my fragile youth), but that's the end of my love affair with reality tv. honestly, there are less than 10 shows worth watching these days, most of them are current affairs and interview-based, and three of them are versions of law and order.

quite frankly i'm fed up. where have all the coming-of-age dramas gone (i'm suspicious of this O.C business)? where are the quality sitcoms? right now i'd even prefer a trashy aaron spelling concoction over another bloody series of big stupid brother.

geez, this post was meant to be about what a legend buffy mastermind joss whedon is. i guess i just can't resist a good rant.

the voices in my head

Lelaina: I was really gonna be something by the age of 23.
Troy: Honey, the only thing you have to be by the age of 23 is yourself.
Lelaina: I don’t know who that is anymore.

- Reality Bites

in less than a month now, nadstown will celebrate its 23rd anniversary of inauguration. i.e. its been almost 23 years since my mum endured the excruciating pain of childbirth for the somewhat disappointing outcome of my birth.

i am not writing to lament my fading youth, as i feel i've got at least 5 years before i divorce my wife, buy a porsche and start screwing schoolgirls. or does that just work for men?

i am simply pondering the truth of the above few lines, which have been circulating in my relentless mind for some months now.

or maybe i've just been listening to too much cowboy junkies music. it tends to induce pondering.

hmmm...

i'm so proud it hurts

go buy this month's edition of yen magazine right now. that's an order people. here's why.

for those who still don't get it, angela bennetts is my bestest bud. she is a contributor in the latest yen. note that i have spelt her name with a double t. apparently the folks at yen found it a bit too tricky though.

i thought i was all about firemen

i went to the police station today to inform the authorities of what happens when ignominious half-wits are permitted to drive. guarding the fort was an officer who was both charming in nature and well-formed in appearance.

sigh...

but, certainly the most appealing thing about this rogue in uniform (other than the uniform itself) was his name: constable challenger.

what a name. i half expected him to pull out a ghetto blaster and start taking his kit off. but alas, he did not.

would it be wrong to go back and request a frisking?

all hail the goddess of wax

when asked how she still appears young despite her difficult lifestyle, mother teresa replied:

"sometimes a good feeling from inside is worth much more than a beautician."

i'd like to take some time now to pay tribute to my beautician, suzie, who not only keeps me hair-free and tinted, but also gives me that "good feeling from inside" whenever i pay her a visit.

hailing from the faraway and mystical land of hungary, the goddess suzie is not only a master of the art of wax, but is also a truly wise and pure-hearted soul, always ready with a raunchy story, a hug, or a piece of chocolate when i need one. she turns an ordinary trip to the beautician into a spiritual experience.

sometimes special people present themselves in the most surprising of situations. even when they're ripping all the hair from your follicles.

the time has come for garrett

in the midnight oil song 'people of australia', writer and lead singer peter garrett sang:

"our continent, our home it needs wise management"

and finally a wise decision has been made in federal politics. musician, environmentalist, aboriginal activist and social justice crusader garrett has been accepted into the ALP and is set to stand for the labor-secure seat of kingsford smith at the next election. you mean we might actually hear a federal politician speaking candidly about environmental and indigenous issues? thats crazy talk.

already howard and downer are going out of their way to discredit garrett, accusing him of voting evasion, radicalism and anti-Americanism (obviously anyone who doesn't want to tongue kiss dubya is a radical and bad politician). they have also criticised latham of "wooing" garrett into the ALP entirely based on his anti-US stance.

peter fitzsimmons had this pearl to say:

"if we can get people in Parliament with his kind of power and passion for australia behaving like a grown-up nation, it can only be to the good."

indeed.

anger management

some malevolent cretin crashed into my car last week. this has rendered me unable to do all of my usual activities such as dance classes and late night visits to friends' houses while the car gets repaired. this makes me very angry. in fact it would be fair to say that i am seething with contempt.

the low-life scum responsible seems determined to make it my problem that he can't tell the difference between a green and red light. first he gives elmo and i a nasty case of ouchies from the impact which threw us forward causing head joltage. and now he seems unwilling to supply me with key insurance details, which leaves me liable to pay the excess on repairs. if i had $400 to spare i guarantee you i could think of better ways to spend it (which i guess is why i don't have $400 to spare).

as a way of channelling my rage into creative output (on advice from my mental health professional) i have written a haiku about the incident:

this friday night past
you rammed the back of my car.
eat shit and die, c*#t.

aaahhh, i feel better already. poetry is so soothing for the soul.

the glory of bette

my friend elmo and i have had a mutual love for bette midler for some time now. i do believe ellouise has too. we pretend its not serious, but i think we all know deep down that there is no love purer than our love for the divine miss m. (we of course ignore her ill-fated sitcom and horrible middle-aged romantic comedies).

some people don't like it when they are getting a free ride in my car yet are "forced" to spend the journey listening to the soothing sounds of elmo and i singing along full-throttle to the beaches soundtrack. apparently these people think bette midler is annoying and/or uncool. to these people i say "f#@*ck you" or "get out of my car".

here is a list of why bette midler rules the world:

- her name is bette, and thats kinda like my mum's name, betty, and my mum is way cool.

- she gave us 'the wind beneath my wings'. and for that alone, i thank her.*

- she also gave us ruthless people, outrageous fortune, and big business. 80s comedy gold.

- ain't noone out there that can look me in the eye and tell me that beaches didn't touch them in their special place.

- she is of the belief that a plunging neckline is the answer to everything. here, here.

- "i married a German. every night I dress up as Poland and he invades me"

- someone out there thinks she's so darn cool that they forged her name on a letter to president bush, slamming his stance on gay marriages, and circulated it on the web.

so go ahead, call me a loser. i don't care. i'm obviously hip. i like hip hop and rock music. i took drugs. i had a rebellious phase (as much as a middle-class, studious, easily guilt-tripped white girl can). and i also like bette. so what?

*you haven't lived until you've heard this sung in an arnold schwarzenegger voice by a full-bearded scottish comedian in a kilt. good times.

top sheilas

don't you love days like today? when despite the fact that the horrible realities of war, famine and disease are plaguing half the world, the front pages of all major newspapers remind us that there are more important things than human suffering. like beauty pageants.

after perusing today's headlines, i have concluded that princess mary from tassie is like, so last month. now that jennifer hawkins, a cheerleader from newcastle has taken out the miss universe title, denmark can have mary. although i am seeing a golden opportunity for an FHM double-page spread featuring a jelly-wrestle competition between these two lovely ladies for the crown of australia's fave gal.

part of this year's pageant required the contestants to strut their stuff in the "traditional dress" of their native land. apparently jennifer tradiitonally gets about newcastle in a tight grey bodice and full skirt with what appear to be native animals crawling their way up to her rude bits. interesting interpretation.

in wanting to stay abreast of important australian current affairs issues while trapped on foreign soil, the lovely lala today emailed this question to me: "if you were in the miss universe pageant*, and you had to wear australian traditional dress, what would you wear?"

i'm pretty much thinking trackies and a vb singlet, with splashes of sequins for that touch of glamour, a stiletto-heeled pair of $2 woolies thongs, and an elaborate diamante-encrusted headpiece made out of a case of (classy) beer.

what would your traditional australian outfit be?

i'd like to thank lala for entertaining the notion, even for a second, that this would ever happen in a million years. maybe they have flying pigs in japan (where she resides).

this month in history

june 10 of this year marks the 166th anniversary of the myall creek massacre. one afternoon in the mid-1800s, 12 stockmen rode into myall creek, in northern NSW, with sinister determination. they proceeded to round up the Wirrayaraay people, who were living next to the town's station. they found 30 Wirrayaraay in total - elderly people, women and children - and herded them a short distance away from the station. when the Wirrayaraay men later returned from working on another property, they found that their elders, wives and children had been brutally massacred - 2 shot, the rest hacked to death, and all the corpses set alight.

this massacre does not stand alone in Australia's history. countless others occurred during and after invasion. some are known, some forgotten. however the myall creek massacre is historically unique because it was the only massacre of Indigenous people in which the murderers were brought to trial for their crime. a public outcry ensued about the "absurdity" of the trial, as it was commonly believed that although the events did indeed happen, no "crime" had actually been committed. and indeed in the first trial, all 12 men were found not guilty. however when the case was retried, 7 of the men were found guilty of murder, and were hanged for their crime (several of the others had been spared because they testified on behalf of the crown). even though the massacres continued, this was an incredible moment in Australia's history.

the massacre is symbolic of all the massacres and arbitrary killings perpetuated by settlers against Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in the colonial and post-colonial era. subsequently the recently erected memorial statue at the site of the massacre and the now annual memorial ceremony represent future possibilities for race relations in this country. since the year 2000, descendants of both the victims and perpetrators of the massacre come together annually to memorialise the slain Wirrayaraay people in the spirit of reconciliation.

so, mr. howard, if these people, direct descendants of murderers, can stand up and say sorry for their ancestors' shame, why is it so hard for you?

the crotch of a person or an animal

a dear friend of mine has recently found himself adrift in the single stratosphere. still confused as to how he got here, and without a safety net nor a lifejacket to keep him grounded, he often seeks guidance from myself and other esteemed members of the spinsterhood. I have granted him counsel when so requested, and am indeed tickled to continue to do so.

however during a conversation this evening, this same friend said something to me that has me all a-contemplating. "nadstown" he said, "you're the single man's crutch". Not sure whether to blush or cry, i decided to hold off on a reaction until i had done some research.

admittedly i was pretty tired, so my research was limited to looking up the definition of 'crutch' in an online dictionary. Here are some of the results:

Crutch:

A staff or support used by the physically injured or disabled as an aid in walking, usually designed to fit under the armpit and often used in pairs.

- the support bit sounds like something i'd like to be for my friends, but i'm not really all that into armpits. and if there should be two of me for maximum effectiveness, i think my single form may prove useless.

A forked leg rest on a sidesaddle.

- i like horses as much as the next girl, but when i think of riding side-saddle its usually while clinging passionately to orlando bloom as we ride off naked into the sunset. i ain't noone's leg rest, honey.

The crotch of a person or an animal.

- this notion evades witty repartee.

in analysing the information at hand which seems to identify a 'crutch' as being an object of support and assistance, i have decided that the friend in question was speaking with the best of intentions. unless he was referring to crotches, in which case i'm a little disturbed.

a final note on the topic: i often question myself about my own perennial lovelessness. "why nadstown", i say to myself, "why are you always a bridesmaid, and never, never a bride?" And now i can answer myself. "well, nadstown" i can say , "if there is any chnace that men see you as an armpit-smelling disbility aid, as a saddle piece, or as the personification of their own groins, you sure ain't going to the chapel any time soon".

i think it may be time for a change of image.